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mairablue · 11 months ago

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Hello! Can I request for Aigonorus, Huedhaut, and Scorpio to them finding out that their lover is a goddess? But there is a bit of a twist, she is a part of a goddess of the zodiac (let's say the zodiac goddesses were hidden or not talked about), and she is the goddess of libra. I hope you have an amazing day!

SCM- The Zodiac Goddess

Aigonorus ♑ Huedhaut ♒ Scorpio ♏

A/N: Thank you for requesting @scarletloves 💖✨ I hope you are doing well!❤ I am sorry for being so late at answering your ask. 😔 I sincerely hope you enjoy reading this! 🥺💜

You were standing in the throne room, infront of the king. You mother was standing beside you with a pensive look on her face.

"Why did the king summon us after all these years? Did we make any mistakes?" she wondered.

This is the first time you have actually met the king in person.

Your father was the former God of Libra. Growing up, you have heard about his tales of legacy. About the honor he brought to himself and his family. He was a man known for his intelligence, bravery and kindness towards all forms of life. People loved and respected him.

Your mother was eight months pregnant at that time, when the dark king attacked heaven. Your father saved thousands of lives in that war; at last losing his own.

After his death, your mother decided to live somewhere quiet, far away from the other gods and goddess with you.

Growing up, you only had one friend, Iris. She was the daughter of the former God of Leo. She had suffered a similar fate; her father dying at an early age.

The gentle noise of the rain drew your attention to the situation in which you found yourself.

"I have summoned you here today to make a very special request." he said. "(Name) I would like you to be the Goddess of Libra. "

You were speechless, you had no idea what to say or think. But your mother on the other hand did not like this idea one bit.

"Your Majesty, I do not want my daughter to suffer the same fate as her father." she said in a calm voice, trying to suppress her vexation.

You took her hand in yours and whispered, " Mom, don't worry, I'll be fine. We cannot refuse His request."

"Your identity as the Goddess of Libra will be concealed. You work papers and other necessities will be sent to you. You need to grant wishes as well as administer punishments." he said.

" Do you have any questions?" he asked with a smile.

" Your Majesty, we already have the Department of Wishes and the Department of Punishment. Why... do we need Goddesses for each zodiac?" you asked.

" To maintain the power balance in heaven. If the dark king or any other dark forces attack us and we lose one of our zodiac gods or one of the zodiac gods chose to retire, the power balance will be maintained by the zodiac goddess of that particular sign." he explained.

It was decided you were going to be the Goddess of Libra. The king recruited other goddess as well. Iris became the Goddess of Leo.

You all began to work covertly in the comfort of your home, as the king provided you with reflective pools.

That was until something happened.

AIGONORUS ♑ -

▪︎You two have known each other since childhood. Lately, you two have started going out. Today was one such date.

You were waiting for him, outside the palace when you heard a voice. The voice came from the nearby forest. You investigated the sound and found a little boy drowning in a pond. You rescued him using your divine abilities.

" How are you feeling?" you questioned in a worried tone.

" I am alright my lady. Thank you for saving my life. " he replied. " Where do you live?" you asked, " I will take you to your parents."

▪︎Meanwhile, Aigonorus had started looking for you when he followed the voice and saw you helping a little boy.

You were carrying the boy in your arms when you saw Aigonorus walking towards you.

" Let me carry him." he said. " How are you feeling kid? " he asked the boy. " I am fine, Lord Aigonorus."

The child tried to smile at Aigonorus, but he didn't succeed. He was exhausted, he could barely keep his eyes open. You got to his house and handed him over to his parents.

"( Name ), may I ask you something?" he said.

" Yes." you replied with a smile.

" ( Name ), your powers have grown significantly and you've been busier recently. Is there any specific reason for that?" he asked

"Is there anything I should be aware of? ( Name )"

You decided to carry on your conversation seated on the grass. You took his hands in yours and whispered, " You can't share this information with anyone, it's confidential. "

He nodded his head in agreement, "Alright. "

You informed him about the predicament you were in, which left him greatly surprised. He was amazed at how you had grown into an adult from the clumsy young girl he had known for his entire life.

He spoke with a mild grin on his lips, " ( Name) i am proud of you."

You didn't even notice when a few small tears started to form in the corner of your eyes.

" Thank you. " you said softly. He hugged you close and whispered, "I love you."

HUEDHAUT ♒ -

▪︎Huedhaut, the wisest man in heaven; your boyfriend. He knows nearly everything there is to know. Naturally he was the one who noticed your strange behavior.

You adored reading and frequently visited the library, but recently you have stopped doing so. You stopped attending the parties and avoided people, as if you were scared of them.

" How is she doing? Perhaps I should check on her." he pondered.

When Huedhaut looked out the window, he saw Vega and Iris on their way somewhere. Vega was carrying a pile of papers. Huedhaut quickly made the decision to follow them.

Iris turned around as if she was aware of his presence. He fled quickly, hiding behind a tree.

" What happened, Lady Iris? Vega inquired with concern. " I believe I sensed someone's presence. Maybe I'm too tired," she said after shaking her head a little.

They seemed to be going to your house. Huedhaut followed them in silence. Once they reached your house, he hid behind a tree, near the open window.

From his hiding spot, he saw you and Iris standing infront of a reflecting pool and Vega handing you both the papers.

They left around 8 pm. Huedhaut waited for 10 minutes, making sure that Iris and Vega have already left, before knocking on the door.

▪︎"Huedhaut? " you opened the door and let him in. You handed him a glass of water as he settled down on the sofa. He appeared perturbed.

He exhaled deeply before asking, "(Name), are you okay, my love? Is there something bothering you?"

You closed the windows and sat beside him. One, two, three... few minutes passed. You took a deep breath, " We were summoned by the king, few months ago," you took another deep breath, " he had a very... special request, one that requires me, and some other goddesses to work covertly."

Huedhaut attentively listened, asking a few questions here and there. " I sometimes get worried about this whole situation," you said " What if something goes wrong? "

He encouraged you to look on the positive side of this arrangement, "(Name), don't worry, I'll help you as much as I can."

The conversation became more pleasant and Huedhaut made an effort to improve the mood. The time passed quickly, he realized it was already 12:30 am and decided to return to his room.

"Would it be possible for you to spend the night here?" you asked him; putting on your best puppy eyes expression, knowing he couldn't refuse.

Huedhaut smiled and agreed, and the two of you went to your room to continue your conversation until you both fell asleep.

SCORPIO ♏

▪︎As the morning sun cast its warm glow, a smile graced your lips at the thought of meeting Scorpio later that day.

As you made your way back home, you were gretted by your mother who expressed her intention of visiting a dear relative, " (Name)", with a warm and affectionate smile. "My dearest, I shall return in the evening." she whispered, planting a gentle kiss upon your forehead before departing.

-Scorpio sat in his chair, writing reports, while keeping an eye on the wall clock. He waited patiently for Altair to arrive with the list of punishments.

Altair rushed forward with a pile of papers in his hand, struggling to maintain his balance. Eventually, he reached in front of the door and knocked on it. Scorpio promptly opened the door by snapping his fingers.

Altair nearly dropped the papers when Scorpio did so, but he managed to keep his balance and handed Scorpio the punishment lists. He thanked Scorpio and left.

Once again Scorpio snapped his fingers, the door closed. He placed the documents on the table and redirected his focus towards the reports he was composing.

After finishing with the reports, he placed them in an envelope. He stood up and took the documents and the envelope. However, before leaving his room, he noticed two papers that had fallen under his desk.

At first glance, the punishment lists appeared normal, with no names mentioned on them, which made it impossible to know whom they were addressed to. However, Scorpio soon noticed a symbol resembling an enchantment when some direct sunlight fell on one of them.

He decided to ask Altair about these and quickly went to find him. As he was walking through the corridor, he saw Altair coming out of Zyglavis's room; he seemed worried.

Scorpio decided to observe Altair from a distance. He quickly snapped his fingers, making himself invisible.

Altair was cautious, he knocked on the doors of the remaining gods one by one and handed them their papers.

Once he was done handing over the papers, he looked around to make sure, nobody was there.

He aimlessly walked around for sometime, before snapping his fingers and disappearing; leaving Scorpio with those papers.

Scorpio wanted to look for him, but he decided against it and went to the reflecting pool to deliver those punishment on his list.

Scorpio neatly put those two papers in a file.

▪︎You had been waiting for Altair since the morning.

"Maybe i should get those papers, myself?" you thought.

You snapped your fingers, which brought you in front of the palace. As you were about to enter the palace, you saw Scorpio heading towards the gate.

He noticed you and called out to you, "( Name )!"

He quickly walked up to you, " I am glad you are here." You smiled at him.

" I have already completed my work. Shall we?" he asked; his voice filled with delight.

How could you deny his request?

" Let's go." you took his hand in yours and he snapped his fingers bringing you in front of a cafe, which had recently opened, in heaven.

" You need to try their coffee. It's delicious. " he said with a boyish smile on his face. Hand in hand, you two entered the Cafe. You sat on a chair while he went to order the coffee.

" I need to go back to the palace and look for Altair. " you thought. You hands were curled on your lap; you desperately tried to suppress your uneasiness. You wanted to enjoy your date; relax with Scorpio but instead you were thinking about work related problems. A deep sigh escaped from your lips. Perhaps things would have been a lot easier if you could just tell him about your situation.

" (Name) ", you looked up at him. " Would you like to go to the lake?" He asked. You snapped your fingers and brought him and yourself in front of the lake.

You snapped your fingers again, and a red picnic mat appeared on the grass. Scorpio sat down and placed the coffee cups and the envelope on the mat; you sat beside him.

You brought the cup to your lips and took a sip, "It's delicious." you said. " Thank you, Scorpio "

He looked at you and a slight smile graced his lips, " I am glad, you like it."

" I wanted to take you on a date, for quite some time. But my work came in the way." he said in an apologetic tone.

" That's ok, you were busy" you said, as you placed your hand in his, " Moreover i was busy myself."

"(Name), do you have any plans for tonight? I would love to spend some more time, with you." he said. " But i might need to assist Zyglavis with some paperwork beforehand. So it might take a while. " he added.

"In the evening?" you asked. He nodded his head in agreement. " You can come to my house after you have finished your work. We can have dinner and you can stay the night, if you want to." you said and winked at him.

He tried his best to hide his bashfulness, with a smile. But his cheeks soon turned red as you smiled back at him. He quickly changed the topic, by asking different questions.

The conversation turned merry, as it took different turns, opening different topics which were filled in the beautiful mixture of both of your voices.

The sun was slowly setting, he stood up extended his hand towards you and you helping you to your feet. You kissed him on the cheek and said goodbye.

Suddenly a massive blow of wind came, which flew away the documents. He started to pick up the papers. You helped picking up the scattered papers and handed them to him. He noticed one of those punishment lists slightly glowing as your fingers brushed against them.

After collecting all the fallen papers, he kept them inside the envelope. " ( Name ), can you please hold these?" he asked.

As your fingers touched those papers, the papers emitted a soft golden light, conforming his suspicions. He peered at you; carefully observing the changes in your expression. Many questions came into his mind but before he could voice any, the silence was broken by your voice, " Where did you find these, Scorpio? "

"And where is Altair?" you asked.

Scorpio explained how Altair had come to give him the lists of punishments and dropped these papers and how he had tried to look for them.

You explained him the whole situation and how the King had appointed you as ' The Goddess of Libra '. As you spoke more about your work, Scorpio couldn't help but smile at you.

Scorpio gently placed a kiss on your forehead, " I am sure you will do a wonderful job, my love. Have faith in yourself. " You wrapped your hands around him and asked, " Scorpio? You are comming for dinner, right?"

" Of course, my moon. How can i refuse?" he said. " But i now need to hurry, otherwise Zyglavis might explode out of anger. " he added jokingly and snapped his fingers.

You quickly snapped your fingers as well and went home to find your mother preparing dinner.

When you were almost done administering all the punishments on the list, you heard a knock on the door. Your mother answered the door and welcomed Scorpio.

#star crossed myth #scm #scm scorpio #scm aigonorus #scm huedhaut #scm headcanon

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sacredpit · 1 year ago

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↳ @praeteritus-memories , continued from here . 🍒

to no extent had kakyoin expected that so significant a tenderness would bloom in his chest upon making giorno’s acquaintance , especially since he’d come to italy for work . over a decade has passed since the momentous events of his egyptian escapade , & in that time , he has learned more about his true self than ever had been previously apparent ━━━━ become more of himself than ever he had been before . but one aspect of his being that has yet to fully emerge from its chrysalis is his reluctance to open himself up to others ; many pensive hours has he sat beside his inner child in healing silence , hoping to unravel , thread by thread , the tightly - wound shroud in which he’d enswathed himself for protection , as if hierophant’s tendrils had coiled ’round his too - soft body like an unbreakable cocoon .

perhaps that had been a necessary response to the corroding heartache of a childhood spent entirely alone . yet , he has managed to make a home for himself on the other side , now , & the white - knuckled grip he’s maintained on the latch to free his heart from its cage doesn’t serve him so well anymore . how ironic a tragedy that letting go is this difficult , but as a man that has survived the unfathomable , kakyoin is not so inclined to think of it as a mountain he cannot summit . even the slackening of one knuckle at a time is still progress .

even so , there was something he saw in giorno early on that rendered his heart’s immaculate camouflage futile , exposing the softness tucked beneath layers & layers of armor without so much as an honest effort . perhaps he saw himself in giorno , & perhaps that extended to him the ability to perceive the lonely child hiding at the core of the strong & straight - shouldered force of nature that brought an entire syndicate to its knees . how could he behold that & allow himself to become another person that abandons him ??

the embrace is as warm as the venetian summer , or maybe warmer still , & the loving width of kakyoin’s smile encapsulates a disposition just the same as his arms anchor tightly around giorno’s smaller frame . as much as he’s dreaded having to bid giorno farewell ( distance can be so cruel ; how unfortunate that the heart can leave pieces of itself all over the world ) , moments like this are precious enough to quell the sinking feeling in his abdomen , leaving a comforting reminder that not even eight thousand kilometers can make strangers of them in its wake .

“ i don’t just mean for practical things , ” he says , straightening his back just enough to look at the boy in his arms , “ though that’s important , of course . but for anything , even if you just need someone to talk to . ” a lavender gaze is devastatingly soft as it meets the blueish emeralds reflecting off of it in a deepening gradient , & in the back of his mind , kakyoin curses the throb in his chest & the pressure building behind his eyes . his husband would surely say he is being dramatic , & maybe he is , but his ever - growing affinity for the golden - haired boy cannot be helped .

“ i know that you’re a busy young man , but if you just want to talk about your day , or tell me about any cute boys in your life , ” his smile grows a little with that remark , the teasing glint to his eye twinkling like a sky full of stars , “ i’d be happy to listen . ”

the raising of a slender wrist & hierophant’s tugging back of a linen sleeve reveals the face of kakyoin’s watch , prompting a slight pout . oh , fuck it . sure , he’s eager to return home to his family ( this is the longest he’s been away since jouta was born ) , but giorno has become family , too . “ say , giogio ━━━━ it seems i don’t have to be at the airport for another few hours , ” he says , ruby - hued lashes fanning out between scarred lids as his eyes become smiling crescents . “ i think that gives us just enough time for one more adventure . i still haven’t gotten to try amarena gelato , & that’s just unfair . ”

#praeteritusmemories #【 * 🍒 教皇 › ❛ 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲 𝗶𝘃 / vento aureo & stone ocean . 】#【 * 🍒 教皇 › ❛ 𝗱𝗼𝗰𝘂𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 / replies . 】#i hope u didn't think i would read ur answer and NOT cry my eyes out #holds them both in my hands like the tiny precious beans they are #i love them so much pls this is everything 2 me #also i set this like a year or 2 after VA i hope that is ok uwu #i always kind of imagined spw would send kak out there to do follow up work w giorno & the new passione #but u know he has a baby now so they had to wait bc kak said sorry my son comes first lol #i hope giorno will get to meet the kiddos at some point could u imagine ... uncle giorno ...#even tho their actual blood relationship is like so fucked up

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hecatemoon87 · 2 years ago

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Mando Mad Max

In a galaxy far, far away...

Chapter Four: A Gift From Max

It was early morning when Max set out to find a new ship. Un Hango and he had returned to the crash site on Hoth, but waves of snow had buried the ship even deeper than before.

So, when Meira woke up later that morning, only Un Hango was in the compound.

Meira stretched and yawned before getting dressed and wandering out to watch Un Hango work on the cargo ramp of his ship.

"Good Morning," Meira said, as she approached. Un Hango glanced up and smiled, "Morning," he replied, wiping some sweat from his brow.

"Where did Max go?" she asked, looking around the compound.

"He went out on my speeder this morning to buy a new ship," he said, tweaking a rusted bolt off the ramp.

"I see," Meira said, placing her hands in her pockets. "Is there anything I can help with?"

"No, you're fine. According to Max, you're a bit clumsy," Un Hango said, chuckling.

"He's exaggerating. I don't know what he has against me," she said, frowning.

"I don't believe he has anything against you. He seems rather fond of you, actually," Un Hango said, tossing the tool he was using into a metal box beside him.

"Fond of me?" Meira asked, surprised.

Un Hango nodded then bending down to grab a can of lubricant that he started spraying liberally on a rusted hinge. "Max, he's a loner, even for a Mandalorian. I've know him for eight years, and he's talked more to me in these last few days than over those eight years."

"About what?" Meira asked.

"You," Un Hango said.

"Not he hasn't, stop teasing me," Meira said, rolling her eyes.

Un Hango shrugged, "It's true."

"If he likes me so much, why is he taking me back to Naboo then?"

"Has he taken you back? I mean, you've been here for four days. He could have taken my ship at any time and delivered you to your parents," he said, wiping his hands on a blue towel.

Meira said nothing then. She took a deep breath and shook her head. "I don't know. Whatever. He should just tell me his intentions so I don't go crazy trying to figure him out."

Un Hango said nothing and focused on securing a new bolt in place of the old one. Meira kicked the ground, trying to think of something else to ask. The question she really wanted to know was, why was he called Mad Max?

Finally, she decided to ask, hoping Un Hango wouldn't be so abrasive as Max had been.

"Why is he called Mad Max?"

Un Hango continued his work, focusing on the bolt he was wrenching on. He was silent for so long that Meira thought that perhaps he hadn't heard her. But before she asked again, he spoke. "Look, that's something he should tell you, not me."

"I tried, but he got really upset with me," Meira said.

Again, he remained silent, as if in pensive thought. Right when Meira decided to just give up ever knowing why he was called Mad Max, Un Hango started the story.

"When Mandalore was being forced to join the Empire, we had a civil war. A lot of people died and a lot of us were exiled. Amongst the dead, was Max's family."

"You mean...his parents?" Meira asked.

"No, his wife and child," Un Hango said, turning to face her.

"That's...that's terrible," Meira said, softly.

"They didn't just die, they were murdered, in front of him. And Max...well, he kinda lost his mind," he said.

"Why would people call him Mad Max? That's a mean nick name considering what happened," Meira said, a little shocked that he had previously had a family.

"Well, most don't know his story. They just encountered him once and notice he's not all there at times. Plus he can be super aggressive," Un Hango said.

"He shot me with maximum taser," Meira said, touching her chest.

"Yeah, well, knowing him, that he hurt you, he feels really bad about it. Besides, if I'm not mistaken, you like him."

"What? No, that's ridiculous," Meira said, folding her arms and looking embarrassed.

"The way you look at him suggests you have a crush," Un Hango said, laughing softly.

Meira blushed again and was going to continue her protest when she heard a speeder bike coming in for landing. She leveled a hand over her eyes to block out the sun and saw that it was Max returning.

Max was dressed in full Mando attire, helmet covering his face. He got off the speeder and headed over to Meira and Un Hango.

"Where's the ship?" Un Hango asked.

"They said they needed to replace a couple power converters and I can pick it up by end of week," Max said, taking off his helmet.

He removed a box from the speeder and approached Meira. His voice was low and flat when he spoke to Un Hango, but when speaking to Meira, is was soft and warm. He looked over and Un Hango, waiting from him to look away.

Un Hango go the message and returned to work. Max, looking less uncomfortable now that another male wasn't watching, handed the box to Meira.

"What's this?" she asked, taking it from him.

"Uh, just something I picked up while searching for a ship," he said, glancing away awkwardly. "You can open it now, if you want."

Meira slowly removed the lid of the box and found nestled inside a blue and silver blaster. Her eyes widen and took it carefully out from the box. "Max, wow. Thank you, it's beautiful."

Then her face fell a little and Max noticed.

"What?" he asked with concerned.

"Well, it's amazing. But my parents wouldn't allow me to keep a weapon. They'll think it...unrefined," she said sadly, placing the blaster back into the box.

"Um, you're not back on Naboo yet, so you can hold on to it for now," Max said.

"Would you help me practice some more, maybe? If you have time, of course," Meira said.

"Yeah, we can. How about now?" Max replied.

As they walked away to the makeshift shooting range they had set up the other day, Meira happened to glance back at Un Hango. He gave her a wink and a knowing smile.

#tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy fan fic #mad max #mad max au #mandalorian

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mollybecameanengineer · 2 years ago

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Immunidad

word count: 9437 | Teen | MSR | @today-in-fic

Summary: A rewrite of Vienen. When Mulder and Scully suspect the black oil is on a drilling platform in the Gulf of Mexico, they realize they are the only ones who can stop it. Too bad he doesn’t work for the FBI and she’s thirty-three weeks pregnant.

This is the third part in my A Second Chance series, which is AU from DeadAlive, in a universe where Mulder never leaves. The series is episodic, like the X-Files, so each piece can stand alone.

Part 1: Reentry -- Mulder tries to get used to being back from the dead.

Part 2: Lots and Lots of Boxes -- Mulder takes a trip down memory lane while cleaning out his storage unit.

Read Immunidad on AO3, or check out the prologue below the break.

April 2001

“Are you still planning to come to work with me tomorrow?”

She and Mulder were in the living room, folding laundry. The TV was on, a Yankees game playing with the sound turned low. It was all horribly domestic.

“Yup, my appointment with HR is at 8:30, and then Skinner at 10,” Mulder replied.

He was being reinstated. Finally. After the weeks it took to get his identity sorted out, he’d turned his attention to getting things in order at the FBI. He thought it would be easy, as Scully had no trouble after her abduction. But she hadn’t been declared dead. So, rather than coming back to a job, he had to be hired again. Which meant applying for his old job and interviewing.

Some days he wondered why he was trying so hard to return to the FBI.

“What are you going to do for the rest of the day?”

Mulder shrugged, folding one of Scully’s bras. “I figured I'd hang out in the office.”

“You remember it’s not just us anymore.”

“Well, I have to meet the new people at some point.”

Scully bit her lip. She seemed to have no confidence in his ability to behave himself.

“If I get bored, I’ll get a cab home. Or you can knock off early and we can spend the afternoon fooling around.”

She rolled her eyes as she sorted socks. “Oh, before I forget, my mom is coming for dinner Friday.”

“Oh?” Mulder picked up a pair of pajama pants. “Does she know I’m living here?”

Scully looked pensive for a moment. “She helped me clean out your place, so she knows you didn’t have an apartment to go back to.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

Scully sighed, throwing a matched pair of socks into his pile. “She probably assumes you’re living here, but I haven’t said anything.”

“And does she know I’m the father?” Mulder dug one of Scully’s shirts out of the pile. Despite being eight months pregnant, the shirt seemed impossibly small.

“I think she assumes.”

“But you never told her.”

“She never asked.”

Mulder groaned, placing the folded top on Scully’s pile before digging a new article out to fold. “Well, I guess I should be comforted that I’m not the only person you’re not always forthcoming with.”

Scully threw a paired sock ball at him. It hit his forehead and dropped to the floor. He picked it up and put it in the correct pile.

“Does she know we’re ‘an item’?” he asked, drawing out the last two words in a playful tone.

She rolled her eyes. “I actually don’t know. I think she assumed we were together long before we were.”

“Good lord, Scully. You talk to your mom every week. How has none of this come up?”

Scully shrugged. “I mostly listen.”

Mulder grabbed the last item of the pile, his jeans, folded them, and then started transporting the stacks of clothes to the bedroom. Scully followed with the socks. “Well, do you want me here Friday night?” he asked, plopping the clothes on the bed.

“Of course.” Scully was putting her socks away. Her sock drawer was impossibly neat. Mulder had no idea how she managed that.

“Well, then how should I act?”

“Normal?” She was done with socks and headed out to the living room for the next batch.

“Should I act like your boyfriend?”

Scully returned with the underwear, her face scrunched in disgust. “Boyfriend?”

He shrugged. “What else would you call me? Once and future co-worker?”

“I think of you as my partner,” she said, putting his boxers away.

“Well, that’s wonderfully ambiguous.” He put the last of her pajamas away and went to get the rest of the clothes from the couch. The Sox had scored another run while they’d been arguing. Nothing was going his way.

Back in the bedroom, he said, “Look, I don’t really care what we call each other. The thing is I don’t want to get my foot stuck so far in my mouth it will take a surgical team to remove it. Can I say I’m living here?” He looked down at her stomach. Though he questioned if the baby was made the old fashioned way, Scully didn’t. And no matter what, it would be his child too. “Can I say ‘my son’?”

“Oh, she doesn’t know the sex.”

“Good to know, but not actually the part I was focused on. Are you being purposefully obtuse?”

Scully threw the last of her underwear into her drawer and slammed it shut. “What the fuck do you want, Mulder? For me to call her up and say, oh, by the way, Mulder and I started fucking on New Years Day last year. In fact, he fucked me so good, it popped and egg out of my defunct ovary, and now he’s my baby daddy! Oh, and we are shacked up, too!”

They glared at each other, silent except for Scully’s huffing. She cracked first. “Sorry. Sorry.” She walked over to him, wrapping her arms around him as much as her stomach would allow. He returned her hug. “I’ll call and tell her. Before Friday.”

He kissed the top of her head. “While you can do whatever you want, may I suggest you clean up your language a bit? For instance, I’d change ‘fucking’ to ‘making loooove’.”

She pulled back and slugged him. Granted, he did deserve it.

Keep reading on AO3

#x files fanfic #msr

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easternpine · 2 days ago

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Taking Off, Chapter 4

Valik Sao: lover of old noir cinema, father of eight, internal auditor, murder victim. The salarian was a private man. Pensive and taciturn, he preferred the company of a good book over the company of others, but Gianna remembered him as kind and dedicated. She’d worked with him during her early years on Noveria and said he was always patient with the juniors, showing them what signs to look for when working a case and encouraging them to apply for new positions as they opened. He’d been so impressed by Gianna’s quick wits that he pointed her toward a well-paying position at Jara Galactic, under his good friend Maro Tir. As Gianna explained this to Shepard in claggy, strained sentences, a palpable fear emerged between her words. Sao’s death had spooked her. “I’ve always joked that this job is a cakewalk. That it’s too boring and clean,” she said with shaky breath. “But…murder? My god, I’ve never even considered it could happen. Nothing like this has ever happened in all my years working this business. Nothing…” The bleariness in her eyes turned to tears, and she seemed too choked up to continue. Alarmed, Shepard placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder and patted slowly a few times. She wasn’t sure what to say to stop her crying. “Gianna, you’re fine. Nothing’s going to happen to you. Sao was an insider investigating his own people.” This somehow made the tears worse. She could see that her words were not having the intended effect. “You have the protection of Maro and the firm—” she added— “not to mention C-Sec. You trust Vakarian, right?” Gianna nodded. “Good.” Personal feelings aside, competent police work is what mattered, and from what Shepard knew of Vakarian’s reputation, he was someone you could rely on to get things done. “Then don’t worry. You’re a professional. You can do this.” “Thanks, Jane.”

read the rest on AO3 💙

#taking off #the carrion eaters trilogy #mass effect #mass effect au #fanfiction #fanfic #bff au #no reapers #femshep #jane shepard #gianna parasini #garrus vakarian #femshep x garrus #shakarian #corporate corruption #murder #rivalry #class differences #slow burn

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thedraught · 11 months ago

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my year in reading (& songs) | 2021

Time, curious time Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs Were there clues I didn't see?

From a perfect start to the year in January to letting go of tension in December, 2021 has me looking back on a year that was - as all years are - full of ups and downs and changes, but ultimately filled with light and friendship and love. In my mind 2021 is tinged in purple-pink hues - or in Taylors words: it gave me the blues and then purple pink skies, it gave me happiness once I was out of the woods and above the trees. It gave me all kinds of rings, from Paper to Mood, 3 filled journals, only 10 new books bought, and a newest obsession (for who would I be without one?). I did not reach my goal of reading 100 books, but at 82, I am rather happy altogether.at the dusk of an old year…

January was pink and frilly and full of good moods - Emma, Bridgerton, - almost a week over New Year’s Eve spent with J and our journals, Jane Austen, embroidery and apple crumbles. The soundtrack of the month then was clearly (as my poor battered roommates can attest to) Donna Summers Hot Stuff that brought light into the grey January air. In total I read 11 books this month but the highlights were Amina Cain’s Indelicacy and Winifred Watson’s Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day. Both of them marked by stunning cover design and stories about women and friendship, though completely different in nature. Indelicacy made me pensive, made me want to write, while Miss Pettigrew charmed me (and still does) - and even made me cry. I also spent time with Susan Sontag and her journals (Reborn: Early Diaries 1947-1963), underlining laughing at the breakfast table in Brussels when she wishes to paganise her young son’s soul, sending updates to J, marvelling at Sontag’s eloquent words (and the people she knew!) scribbled down next to mundane lists and recounts of her meals.

With February came incredibly cold days, hikes and frozen lakes, a picnic set up in my room and five of the eight Bridgerton books, read and discussed with J, heavily entertained and partially staring at blank walls while doing nothing but listening to Julia Quinn’s historical romances. However, I also read the newest Seanan McGuire (Across the Green Grass Fields), Stories of Your Life by Ted Chiang (finally! go read it! it’s “just” a short story) and a highlight of the year: Piranesi by Susanna Clarke. A surprising come-back by an incredibly talented author that whisked me away into one of the strangest worlds I ever had the pleasure to visit. I read In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado, too, and decided I was going to write my thesis about her experience of queer violence that she lays bare in her unique and daunting memoir.

Where February was still ringing with Hot Stuff and Peggy Lee’s Fever, March turned into an emotional turmoil rather quickly and had me in a daze. But the daze also brought me feverish reading weekends, when I devoured Roald Dahl’s Completely Unexpected Tales, John Fowles skin-crawlingly-horrifying The Collector, and finally tackled a mountain that had been looming above me from my bookshelves ever since 2014: The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton. I breathlessly poured over the 800 pages in a single weekend, curing the distress I was feeling with a story so intricate and wondrous it had me spinning more than the heartbreak that raced through me that month. In March, Catton gave me memories, Catton gave me albatrosses, something to tether myself to, when I was lost. For a book the size of The Luminaries was the only one that could anchor me. Outside my window the cherry tree began to bloom.

Work on my thesis began in earnest in April, the whirlwinds of emotions cooling down slightly (though it was only the calm before a storm that would rattle me later), and I turned to the ever comforting Agatha Christie while tackling another beast I had avoided for years: the ever daunting Anna Karenina. I was not as impressed with Tolstoy’s most famous work, as I was with his War & Peace, but I did enjoy most of the book (read: all parts about Anna, none about Levin who takes up half the novel’s space) and enjoyed logging it from place to place with me.

May hit me with pain that had begun in March, and had been (in retrospect), unnecessarily drawn out til now. But I also received love & support, more than anyone could ever wish for. Distraction from my roommates, kind words from people that (mere months ago!) had been nothing but strangers, love from my parents, J and C, all of my friends. And love from books, to which I turned. Marie Antoinette and Die Welt von Gestern by Stefan Zweig enthralled me, Gone Girl kept me up all night and Muriel Spark’s The Girls of Slender Means disturbed and delighted me with its casual cruelty.

In June I was still weathering storms: my thesis, life, fears, which sounds more than dramatic in retrospect but was my reality at the time. I did not read much, except for nights spent with old romance novels by Sophie Kinsella to calm my nervous mind. Musically, however, Lorde made a reappearence and healed my soul with the announcement of a sun-soaked record. And I finally gave up my (hitherto likely unfounded) dislike for Taylor Swift and dipped my toe into her music, filling my days with summer songs from Lover (with Paper Rings front and center), as well as the ever-uplifting Fearless and All Too Well.

July was marked by travel - a strange word in a newsletter that summarises a year in which Covid 19 is and was still very much present. But I travelled locally and carefully. To see my grandmother (finally, after two years!), C in Hamburg, my parents, T and F, pick up my sister in Jena and see J and I, even if just for a day in the sun. I read Pachinko by Min Jin Lee in a heat-filled day on the balcony, before I played scrabble with my grandma and drank cocktails. And I finally read my first Jhumpa Lahiri (I am still dying to read In Altre Paroli, a book with the most interesting premise), The Namesake, and was rather moved by it.

This year’s rain-filled summer culminated with my birthday in August, my second vaccination and a short birthday visit from C, and a long one from J in Maastricht. J and me crafted and painted ceramics, went to the fabric market, cooked food, had picnics, relived the trashiest movies of all time, and finally fully submitted to Taylor. I read Elin Willow’s Inlands (“Precisely because all options are open and I can go wherever I like, it feels like the exact opposite”) and felt it enter my soul at that moment in time, and soothe me and upset me, even though I now barely remember any of it. The soundtrack of August was not Taylor’s eponymous song, but Lorde’s Mood Ring, instead. A brilliantly clever and sympathetically ironic song (paraphrased) - an absolute genius and delight.

In September I began searching for jobs read short-stories of Domestic Suspense, as well as The Dud Avocado by Elaine Dundy (which briefly recalled Bonjour Tristesse, if not in plot, then in atmosphere) and spontaneously purchased Frank Herbert’s Dune that I ploughed through in three days, since I went to watch the adaptation with M and A. I embroidered on the side, and passed the time with more Agatha Christie, as well as walks in the waning summer light, looking at the pumpkin patches.

I remember a party at F’s in October, Sushi with B, and my very first Dutch read Het Achterhuis, a graphic novel adaptation of Anne Frank’s Diary. Next to job interviews and my graduation celebration and fun days with G, I also revisited the Bridgerton universe with J, as I listened to all four of the Rokesby-series books (that were clearly inferior to Bridgerton, I must admit).

I had dinners in November, saw bright-red sunsets, started to work, visited Berlin and saw F. I deepened the attachment to Taylor (All Too Well), spent time with my roommates and organised a move. H and me spent a wholesome evening with Folklore, Evermore, fries and punch. We also had another wonderful silent-dinner. Reading-wise, I finally tackled Imogen Hermes Gowar’s The Mermaid and Mrs Hancock (impeccable writing, a lacking story) and swore off modern romance after a buddy-read of Sally Thorne’s (very well liked?!) The Hating Game.

December saw me moving, laughing lots and being stressed. But now it has me sitting in Rudolstadt at J’s, prepared to put pink highlights in my hair and drink Barbie pink shots to welcome the new year and bid farewell to 2021. Because, I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling 2022, just as well as I felt 2021. Even though I did not read a single book in December (I was busy embroidering for farewell gifts and Christmas), I experienced so much love and light and saw so many changes in my life that I am more than excited about. Closer to J (to further apart from my dear roommates, my friends, I should say), ready for 22, new books to discover and read, new things to see, new things to create. This month’s song obsession is I Bet You Think About Me. For the country, the vibe, the red lipstick. For everything.the magical dawn of a new one awaits.

In retrospect everything happened as it should have. My heartbreak turned out to be not so much of a heartbreak after all, and it gave me Taylor, a development I might give too much meaning to (and talk way too much about), but then again, I’d like to carry myself forward like this into the following years: Giving things too much meaning rather than not finding meaning in anything. And being open to accept new things, even if they mean discarding old views and opinions. I don’t know what 2022 will bring, if it’s still pink and blue, or burning red. Or perhaps maybe golden, like daylight.

I know that, as such, every day and every year, every life in fact, is reflected in the snippet of the song I’m going to leave you with here, but it seems to fit this year especially, for me:Time, mystical time Cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine Were there clues I didn't see? And isn't it just so pretty to think All along there was some Invisible string Tying you to me?

Can you find an invisible string in 2021? A string that pulled you away from something only to lead you somewhere greater? I hope that you can. And if not, I am certain that you will. Time is funny like that.

All the people I had to lose, or that I got to keep and meet and love in 2021, I’m glad that fate tied you to me. And I hope that the dawn of 2022 is a bright one for you.

#year in books #year in review #year in reading #2021

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angryschnauzer · 4 years ago

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Waited So Long

Summary: As an actress in her mid 20′s you had been lucky enough to get the roles you pushed yourself for, but one role in particular needs a scene you have no experience with; a sex scene, and you co-star is surprised to discover you are still a virgin even though you are in your mid 20′s. But he’s willing to help with whatever you need.

Trope: Friends to Lovers, Co-stars to Lovers Pairing: Henry Cavill x Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, loss of virginity, oral sex, fingering, vaginal sex, protection/condoms.

I no longer operate a tag list, but instead pop over and follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert each time i post a new story.

Masterlist got so long all the links broke, so you can now find all my previous stories on my AO3 LINK HERE

Waited So Long

Henry sat at the large table, grinning and laughing as the rest of the cast had finished reading through the latest episode’s script. Everyone was in a good mood and that was down to the fact that tomorrow’s shooting schedule required just you and Henry, meaning that everyone else got a three day weekend. But… but you were just staring at the script. You knew it had been coming, but to see the words in front of you, the stage descriptions, it was overwhelming.

The Netflix special was ten episodes of a sci-fi series, and you played an alien warrior. Henry was the plucky human astronaut that had been aboard the International Space Station when it had been sucked into a black hole and had ended up on the far side of the universe. Eight episodes into the filming schedule and the pivotal sex scene was about to be included, and that’s what was clouding every thought in your mind.

You were far from naive, you had no issue with your costume or even the nudity - you were after all painted purple with patches of ‘scales’ in strategic parts - but it was the fact you had a small secret that was making you so nervous; you hadn’t ever actually had sex.

You were already mid 20’s, you’d been through university and stage school, worked on broadway and the London west end, you’d modelled for artists and had always put your career first. Relationships had just fizzled away after the first couple of dates because of your acting schedule… and that is how you found yourself not only a virgin in her mid 20’s, but one that had never even laid in bed with a partner, been close, felt the weight of a lover on top of them… anything at all.

The producers called it a wrap for the read through, and the sounds of chairs scraping on the floor filled the room. As people shot their empty plastic bottles into the trash you felt your stomach lurch, quickly leaving the room, finding the disabled bathroom and running to the toilet, the contents of your stomach very quickly coming back up.

Finally empty, you sat on the floor and rested your head against the wall, your mind spinning. A quiet knock at the door made you open one eye, watching as the unlocked door swung open and a familiar face peered round;

“Are you ok?” Henry asked, his bulk almost filling the entire doorway; “You’re not coming down with something?”

You shook your head;

“No, just umm… nerves… haha…” you laughed rather awkwardly.

Stepping into the room, he sat against the opposite wall, leaning forwards to hand you his half finished bottle of water;

“... about tomorrow?”

Taking a sip of water you nodded;

“Bit pathetic really, isn’t it?”

“Not at all. Is this your first onscreen love scene?”

“Yeah”

He sat forwards, resting his hands on his knees as he thought pensively for a moment;

“Are you going out with the crew tonight?”

“No. Can’t really face it”

“How about I drive us back to the house and order some chinese and talk things through? This isn’t my first love scene but I remember the nerves. We’ll get everything out in the open so the air is clear ready for tomorrow, yeah?”

Nodding, you watched as he stood, holding out his hand for you and helping you to your feet.

The drive back to the shared house that most of the main cast members were staying at was fun, Henry having linked his Spotify to the stereo, firing up a playlist of old school pop with an eclectic mix of metal. By the time he rolled into the large driveway that the rental house had, you were both yelling out the words, laughing and grinning.

Once inside you excused yourselves to go shower, twenty minutes later finding Henry in the kitchen. His hair was wet and he wore a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants as he looked over the chinese menu;

“What do you fancy?” he asked and you tried not to blurt out what you were thinking, because even though you may be a virgin, your thoughts were far from pure.

Looking over the list he had already scribbled down, you pointed to a couple of dishes, watching as he added them to the list before dialling for delivery.

Pushing your plate away you stretched out and groaned. Still shovelling egg fried rice into his mouth, Henry pointed his fork at your plate;

“Roo dun?” he asked, his cheeks full like a hamster.

“Help yourself!”

He eagerly dumped the rest of your lemon chicken on top of his rice, jabbing at the pieces;

“Hey, about tomorrow… you really don’t need to worry. It’s just going to be you and me, and three other people”

Taking a sip of your beer you quietly snorted;

“That’s still three more people that would ‘usually’ be there… and four more than i’ve ever experienced”

He paused, setting his fork down and you could see his mind working through what you said;

“So uhh, it's been a while…?”

“To be honest, it's been never”

It was like something short circuited in his brain;

“Never never? Like, never?”

Putting your beer down, you fiddled with the label;

“I’m a virgin. I’ve never had sex. I’ve never even slept with anyone”

There was an awkward silence, the air tense before Henry finally spoke;

“Is it a religious thing?”

You shook your head;

“No. I just have been so wrapped up in studying or working or being on stage… I would get two dates into a relationship and some big opportunity would come up. I would get blinkered and end up ghosting guys without even realising. Ambition got in the way of a love life…”

Henry took a deep breath;

“Ok. So you know i’ll be covered up… down there i mean… and so will you… so there won’t be any slips or anything. I won’t be inside you or anything…”

Cocking an eyebrow you scoffed;

“Henry… I know you won’t be inside me. We studied sex scenes at stage school. They gave us the practical run down of what happens. It's lots of rubbing and grunting. I just need to go watch some porn again to figure out what to grunt…” you took a sip of your beer; “... and you probably wouldn’t fit inside me anyway… it’s not like anything has ever breached that hole”

Henry sat with a wide eyed look on his face, his jaw hanging slack;

“So you… you’ve never even pleasured yourself?”

“Of course i have!” you threw a prawn cracker at him; “I’ve just never…. You know… had internal stimulation…”

“Wow” he muttered quietly, shifting in his seat; “So…” he started again but then stopped, his brain seemingly unable to string a coherent sentence together.

Finally he cleared his throat;

“So there’s never been any on set stuff?”

“Nope. Usually I run through my lines for the next day, check the schedule, the set and makeup call times. I guess the one bonus about all of this is that there aren’t any lines for tomorrow”

You both knew that the scene had been set up without dialogue, mostly from Netflix’s instruction because any erotic scenes can cause havoc with sensors in some countries when it comes to subtitles.

“What did you want to do now? Do you want an early night? Watch a movie? Talk? You want me to lay on top of you?” he asked, picking his now cold plate of food up and dumping the leftovers in the waste disposal.

“Yes” you replied far too quickly.

“Which part?”

“All of it”

With the TV in the main living area out of action thanks to a rather rambunctious game of ping pong a few weeks ago, the pair of you had moved to Henry’s room. An hour into the movie and it was far from your thoughts, instead you were in the bizarre situation where Henry was literally laying on top of you as you had a conversation. The feeling of his weight pressing against you was at first a surprise, he was thick with muscles for the role, and with probably 200lbs of human pressing you against the mattress you had found you would have to shift now and again. Finally you found a position that was comfortable, and as you chatted about life you found your legs had naturally parted to allow him to lay between them, his stomach pressing to yours, his face inches from your own;

“This is literally how we’ll be spending our day tomorrow you realise” he quietly pointed out

“But there will be grunting too… plus some thrusting… it’ll probably get your ass in the gossip magazines as best ass in hollywood again” you teased him, knowing that the nudity he’d done in previous shows and movies had earned him a lot of attention thanks to his rather peachy behind.

Henry pushed up a little, poking a finger to your breasts;

“Oh yeah? Well these will earn you a whole legion of fans, you have an awesome pair of tits”

“Pfft, they’re just average”

“They’re good enough to give me a semi” he countered with a crooked grin on his face, using his finger to just tug at your neckline, exposing a tiny bit more skin.

You shifted beneath him without even realising you were doing so and that’s when you felt it, a growing hardness pressing against your abdomen. Your eyes went wide as you stared up at him, the mix of emotions showing on his face;

“I’ll get off…”

“No!” you instinctively wrapped your legs around his, leaning your head up and pressed a kiss to his lips. He let out a grunt of surprise and you felt him tense, before he softened, his lips following yours as you pulled rested your head back on the duvet beneath you.

His lips were soft and plump, and as he rocked his hips against you again this time you felt he was getting harder. Instinctively you gasped, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You may not have had sex before but you had kissed, and your tongue danced with his as hands started to explore each others bodies, fingers seeking out skin as t-shirts were tugged up to expose heated skin.

Pulling your shirt over your head he admired your naked chest, the pattern on your top having hidden the fact you were without a bra;

“Oh yeah, even purple these’ll be popular”

With a smirk on his lips and a wicked grin on his face he lowered his mouth to your naked torso, taking one peaked nipple between his lips to suck on it, his hand cupping your other breast. As he worked his magic your body responded, the wetness between your thighs soaking through your clothing, the subtle movements of your bodies rubbing together making your arousal almost uncontrollable. Winding your hands into his dark locks, the soft hair curled around your fingers as he looked at you, pressing a trail of kisses down your sternum until he reached your leggings;

“Can i continue?” he asked quietly, watching as you nodded your head;

“Yes… please…”

As he pulled your leggings off he pressed kisses to the heated skin that he revealed, never breaking eye contact;

“So here’s what i’m going to do… first i’m going to get you to cum with my tongue, i’ll slip it just a little inside you so you can get used to the feeling, then i’ll gently tease you with my fingers; find that g-spot of yours as i’ve been assured a g-spot orgasm is completely different from a clitoral orgasm…

“Fuck…”

“Yes, that’s the third thing…” he grinned at you; “Once you’re nice and ready, and really really wet i’m going to make love to you… so you can practice your moans for tomorrow…”

He shed you of the rest of your clothing before softly grasping your legs and pulling them apart, revealing your virgin core. Tender fingers parted your petals before his tongue swiped a wide stripe through them, and the sound that emerged from your throat startled even you.

“You like that?”

“Yes… oh my god, please do that again!”

“With pleasure!”

“The pleasure is all mine…”

“Henry?”

“Yes?”

“Please shut up and get on with it” you grinned at him, before he dipped his face back between your legs and went to town. His tongue was seemingly everywhere, grunts and moans as he worked you open, and when he slipped his tongue into the ring of muscle at your entrance your eyes shot open and you giggle-moaned at the unfamiliar but not unpleasant experience. When a finger found your clit you relaxed again, laying back and enjoying the pleasure he was selflessly giving you.

Gripping at the bedcovers you found your hips started to move on their own, only for Henry to press a strong arm across your stomach to hold you in place, pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm. When it finally did hit your body reacted instinctively; your legs wrapping themselves around his head, your back arching and your fingers almost tearing through the fabric of the sheets, before you finally went limp. As your mind was nothing but stars a muffled voice came through the haze of your post orgasmic bliss;

“If i could get some oxygen…”

Not realising your legs were still firmly wrapped around Henry’s head, you quickly released him, his head popping up from beneath your thighs. His cheeks were flushed red and his chin was wet, and it took you a moment to realise you were the cause for the wetness. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand before standing and grabbing a bottle of water to pass to you;

“You’re gonna need to rehydrate after that…”

You went to take the bottle from him but the bulging tent in his sweatpants distracted you, your hand pausing mid air before Henry laughed;

“Drink first, then you can play with it”

“Oh… I… “

“Drink”

Taking the bottle you sipped at the tepid liquid as he lay on the bed beside you. When you’d finished he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to his firm chest before kissing you softly;

“Are you ready for round two?”

“Can i touch you too?”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth before he nodded, watching as you eased the elastic of his sweats down and his heavy cock sprang free. Your jaw fell as you took in his size, but before you could overthink it he pressed a kiss to your lips as his hands wandered between your thighs.

Reaching out you wrapped your fingers around him as his own slid between your folds, dancing over your clit before he pressed a single digit inside you, your eyes going wide and your hand squeezing him involuntarily.

“Does that feel good?”

You nodded;

“Yes, a little strange that i’m not in control, but i think that’s what makes it even more exciting”

“That’s good… now, how about another finger?”

Nodding again you bit your lip as he slid a second finger in alongside the first, your eager hole stretching around his digits. Instinctively you had started to move your hand up and down his shaft, doing little more than gentle movements, but soon the pair of you got into a rhythm, working together to leave your breaths in time with the others.

“Doing so well for me… so wet. Shall we try a third?”

Nodding you let out a quiet ‘uh-huh’ as he repositioned his hand, carefully sliding three fingers into your soaked velvet channel, and the noise that came from your throat was base and full of sin. When his thumb started to rub against your clit while he continued to work three fingers inside you the spring in your belly snapped and you were coming hard, shaking around his hand.

As you came down from your high Henry carefully withdrew his fingers, salaciously licking them clean before he got off the bed and went to the drawer in the little cabinet, pulling out a condom.

“Oh… i’m on the pill…” you blurted out; “You don’t have to… In fact i’d really like to feel you, you know… bare…”

Tearing the packet open he grinned at you;

“I get that… but you’re gonna be in makeup in less than 12 hours” he knelt on the bed as he started to roll the latex down his angry dick.

“Umm yeah?”

“Well its something you’d only know from experience, but it can take up to 24 hours for a guys cum to fully leak out of you”

“Oh…”

“And your costume and makeup gets pretty intimate, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah…”

“So you want Iris in makeup to be able to smell my cum dripping out of you when she’s painting your snatch purple tomorrow?” he said with a grin on his face, rolling the condom down fully before positioning himself between your legs

“I gotta be honest, the idea that someone realises i’ve had sex is kinda kinky” you craned your neck up to kiss him as you felt his dick notch at the entrance to your cunt; “But you’re the expert here”

“That i am… Let me show you just how much of an expert…”

With a smooth roll of his hips he pushed into you and the feeling was indescribable, in fact it was so overwhelming you screwed your eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall, but Henry simply held still, kissing each one of your tears as they fell down your cheeks until you were ready.

“Breathe babe… just breathe… it’s overwhelming i know… i understand…”

Opening your eyes you gazed up at him, smiling as he leaned down and kissed you softly.

“Are you ok?”

“Y-yeah…”

“You want me to keep going?”

“Please… oh god please”

“Gonna make you feel so good”

He carefully pulled his hips back before pushing into you again, seemingly getting deeper before pulling out again. Soon you were lost in the moment, feelings both physical and emotionally almost overwhelming you again as your body was taken to new heights of pleasure, Henry seemingly knowing exactly how to make the moment special for you.

Your body reacted in the best way, the tight spring inside you curling ever tighter, until with just the right roll of his hips he tipped you over the edge and you were coming hard, your body squeezing him so tight he knew he’d found heaven whilst you saw stars.

Whilst you were in the haze of your orgasm you heard the most beautiful moans, and felt as Henry came deep within you. As soon as he stopped shaking he wrapped his arms around you tightly, pressing his face to your neck as he cradled the back of your head with his massive hand, pressing soft kisses to your heated skin as you both basked in the aftershocks of your intense orgasms.

Finally Henry pushed himself up to bear his weight on one arm, sliding his other hand between your bodies to hold the condom in place as he carefully pulled out of you;

“I’m just gonna get rid of this… stay here”

You watched his peachy ass as he quickly mad his way to the bathroom, hearing water running before he reappeared moments later with a damp washcloth. Sitting delicately beside you he carefully cleaned you up, and when he was finished he pulled the duvet over your naked body as he quickly got rid of the cloth and joined you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you to his chest;

“Are you ok?”

“I think so… Did i make a mess of your bed?”

“No. No blood”

“Really? I thought…”

“If you’re relaxed enough you may not bleed… or you may have simply ruptured your hymen just through every day life. A fall, tampons, strenuous exercise… didn’t you do a horseriding movie a couple of years back?”

“Y-yeah…” you cast your mind back; “Now you mention it, there was one really long day when i’d spent all day shooting a galloping scene with jumps… i just thought my period was coming early, and i had this really dull ache in my lower back… i guess that makes sense now…”

“So… you’re good? Feel ok about filming tomorrow?”

You nodded;

“Yeah, i’m good. Thank you” You looked up at him and saw he was chewing his lip nervously; “What?”

“I was wondering… you know… after we’ve finished filming tomorrow… did you want to go to dinner with me?”

“Like a date?”

“Yeah… hey i understand if you say no… that you want to concentrate on your role and acting…”

“No! I mean yes!” you took a deep breath; “I’d love to go to dinner with you”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek before you settled on his chest, his strong heartbeat beating beneath your ear as you let your eyelids drop and you fell asleep in his arms.

Iris tutted as you fidgeted;

“Will you stand still? I need to get these scales on!”

“Sorry Iris… just a little sore…”

The older woman looked up at you as she held the patch of purple scales prosthetic and grinned;

“Well its about time” she nodded to the various bottles and jars that were on the counter; “Make sure you take the coconut oil when you leave tonight, it’ll help get the adhesive off without pulling on any bruises”

You looked down at Iris and smiled;

“Thanks Iris”

“Was it worth it?”

“So worth it”

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fanfiction

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spencers-renaissance · 4 years ago

Text

dry me off and hold me close

Summary: Derek has finally relented and is bringing his boyfriend Spencer to meet the rest of the team. That means, though, he has to finally tell them about his boyfriend's disability. Terrified that they'll react badly, he puts it off until he can't anymore. Turns out he was worried for nothing.

Tags: so much fluff, protective derek, disabled spencer, caretaker derek, au: spencer is not in the bau, team as family, hurt/comfort, light angst, est. rel, day to day disabled life, physical disability/chronic illness

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 5.7k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Hello! I am nervous to share this one, I won't lie. It's incredibly personal. It was a pain in the arse to write but I love how it turned out and I hope you do, too. Just a note: this may be triggering for some people - there is description of nausea and severe chronic pain, as well as frequent references to ableism towards wheelchair users.

As soon as Rossi brings up the prospect of a fully-catered family dinner at his ‘mansion’ this weekend, Derek’s heart sinks. They’re on their way home from a pretty gruelling case and it’s well-deserved of course, but he knows what comes next, knows what question will be asked of him, and he’s dreading it. There’s only so long he can go on avoiding answering.

“Please tell me you’ll finally let us meet Spencer, Derek,” JJ asks, levelling him with a look to rival one of Penelope’s. “At this point I’m starting to think you’ve made him up.”

Spencer is very real. He’s a very real, very sexy, very intelligent man who Derek has no doubt would get on brilliantly with the team. But Spencer also happens to be disabled. And while his boyfriend has had decades to get to terms with broaching such a sensitive, taboo topic, Derek has not. He’s far from ashamed of Spencer — that’s not it at all — he’s just so protective of him, and the idea of others being touchy or patronising or outright rude around him is an idea he’s never been able to get used to, no matter how many times he’s witnessed it.

Derek’s laugh is strained as he rubs his face awkwardly, trying to find the words to politely decline, but the others are pouncing on him before he can speak.

“You’ve put it off enough times now, Morgan,” Emily says, siding with JJ. “If he’s even half of what you say he is then we’ll love him. Just bring him along. Rossi doesn’t mind.”

“Oh no, I’m dying to meet the man who could finally tie Derek Morgan, ladies man extraordinaire, down,” Rossi chimes in.

“He definitely sounds like my kind of guy,” Alex agrees. “I’m impressed you managed to land such an educated man, Derek.”

He looks sort of desperately towards Hotch who raises his hands guiltily. “I would actually like to meet him, too, Morgan,” he says reluctantly, a rare smile playing across his face.

Derek groans and throws his head back against his plane seat. He can only be glad Penelope isn’t on the flight because she’d be absolutely relentless in such a conversation.

As hesitant as he is to let his team in, maybe it is time to finally get over himself and bring Spencer to meet them. After all, none of them have ever given him actual cause to be so nervous, and he knows they’d all inevitably fall in love with him almost as quickly as Derek did, so really it’s his own fears and fierce protective instincts keeping Spencer away from his second family.

“Fine,” he relents, anxious butterflies not easing. “He’s home this weekend, and apart from planning lectures I think he’s free, so I’ll ask him. But I can only promise to ask, I won’t promise he’ll agree.” It’s a pointless caveat; Spencer’s been bugging him to meet the team almost as long as they’ve been bugging him to meet Spencer, he’ll jump at the chance to go to dinner with them.

“Finally,” JJ groans, pretending to collapse against Emily in relief, who giggles fondly at her antics.

“I’m sure we’ll love him, Derek,” Rossi says reassuringly, a proud fatherly look on his face that has his chest clenching painfully.

As everyone settles down, his stomach churns anxiously as he stares back out of the jet window. He knows everyone will love Spencer; he just doesn’t know how to tell them what to expect. What if Spencer has a fainting episode or gets nauseous at dinner time? What if he can’t keep his energy up or is too photosensitive to have the lights on? What if meeting that many people at once overwhelms him? Spencer always tells him he worries too much, but he can’t help it — not when the love of his life is involved.

He’s brought out of his nervous stewing by Hotch. “You know, Morgan, if you really don’t want to bring Spencer, you don’t have to,” he says softly, making him look up to see everyone staring at him guiltily.

“We didn’t mean to pressure you,” JJ says hesitantly, and the others agree, all clearly having noticed his pensive expression.

He forces himself to take a calming breath and bite the damn bullet already. Spencer would be rolling his eyes at him. “Okay. There’s something I haven’t told you,” he starts carefully. He hasn’t had to introduce the concept of Spencer’s disability to anybody since he told his family. “Spencer is disabled. He has a chronic condition that impairs his mobility along with bringing a whole host of other symptoms, and while he’s had it for most of his adult life, I’m still not used to broaching the topic and I didn’t know how you would react. He already experienced enough difficulties in life, he doesn’t need my co-workers, hypothetically, being patronising or weird about it. So, I put it off.”

It feels like a weight off his chest once it’s out in the air, but the surprised looks on his team’s face make him briefly wonder whether telling them was a mistake after all. “Spencer will really look forward to coming though,” he rushes to continue. “He’s on his own a lot of the time and struggles to make it out of the house except for work if I’m not there, so he can feel quite isolated. It will be nice for him to spend time with other people, and finally meet you guys.”

By the time he’s finished speaking, everyone seems to have mostly recovered from their immediate shock, and look relaxed and intrigued again — far more appreciated expressions on Derek’s end.

“Well,” Rossi starts, and he feels like holding his breath in anticipation, “will he need any accommodations?” Relief spreads warm and thick across Derek’s chest as he feels himself physically relax. Of course immediate support would be the response from his team; he was stupid to think otherwise.

“His mobility fluctuates daily. Sometimes he can walk small distances okay, other times — and more frequently — he needs aids like forearm crutches or his wheelchair. Can I text you on the day and let you know?”

“Of course,” Rossi promises, a warm smile on his face, “whatever you and Spencer need.”

“There is one more thing, if Spencer’s coming it will need to be earlier in the evening… think more six rather than eight. He’ll be too exhausted later in the evening and he needs to be home early to get the amount of sleep he needs.”

“That’s fine,” Rossi agrees immediately, “six it is.”

“Sorry for pressuring you, Derek,” JJ says, tilting her head as she looks across the table at him. “But we’ll love Spencer, this won’t change anything.”

“Yeah, fuck you for thinking we’d be assholes about it,” Emily chuckles, punching him softly in the arm.

Derek grins at her before shaking his head. “I’m just too protective of him,” he explains a little guiltily. “He thinks it’s ridiculous but I can’t help it. We’ve been together nearly five years now and I’ve seen the things he has to go through, professionally and in his day to day life. I just saw an area for potential harm, no matter how slim the chances, and immediately bricked it up in my mind. It’s hard to tear walls down like that.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Alex says in her signature gentle tone, smiling at him.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” Hotch agrees and Derek gives them all another quick smile before they settle in for the rest of the flight.

It’s late by the time Derek unlocks the door to his and Spencer’s home and he knows his boyfriend will already be in bed. It had been a weird adjustment when they’d first started dating, Spencer having to be home by 10pm so Spencer could get at least nine hours of sleep, topped up by regular naps during the day. Now though, he’s completely used to operating around Spencer’s sleep schedule; it’s just routine.

He makes his way through the house quietly, toeing his shoes off and shedding his coat before dumping his bag in the living room and padding up the stairs. The house is dark but their room is dimly lit by Spencer’s night lamps, there to ease him off to sleep and keep him company when bouts of painful insomnia torment him. There was a time Derek used to mind, but those days seem so long ago now. He climbs carefully onto the mattress, taking off his trousers and socks but not bothering to change into anything new.

As gentle as he is with his movement, Spencer still stirs beside him. “Derek?” He blinks sleepily over at him in the soft light of the bedroom and Derek immediately scoots over and wraps him in a hug. It might be gone midnight but he misses Spencer like crazy when he’s away and physical contact is very much essential business right now.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispers as he relishes the feeling of Spencer’s small frame against his own. “Sorry I woke you.”

“It’s okay. Just glad you’re home. Missed you.”

“I promise I missed you more,” Derek murmurs as the warmth of the room and comforting presence of his boyfriend wrapped around him finally break down the walls he’s been holding back the sleepiness working a 5 day case inevitably brings.

“Make me pancakes in the morning?”

Spencer doesn’t need to ask, it’s a tradition for Derek to make pancakes for breakfast the day he gets back from the case, but it makes him smile anyway. “Anything for you, baby boy,” he yawns. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

⭐️

Derek waits until dinner the next evening to bring up the subject of the dinner party. It’s just a simple takeaway on the sofa of the house Derek had renovated for them, but even five years into their relationship, every moment shared with Spencer feels like a date.

“How would you feel about going to a dinner party with the team?” Derek asks when there’s a lull in their conversation. Spencer’s just finished explaining a complicated debate he’s having with one of his colleagues about kinetic particle theory and Derek has no idea how to respond. Moments like these used to make him feel stupid and inadequete when they first got together, but now he just stares fondly at his genius boyfriend and wonders how on earth he got so lucky.

Spencer lowers his fork. They’re eating chinese but he still hasn’t mastered chopsticks, and it never fails to make Derek smile. “Are you serious?” he says, an excited grin spreading across his face.

“I am.” He quirks an amused eyebrow as he takes in Spencer’s eager expression. God, he’s so fucking in love.

“Well obviously I want to go,” he giggles, “you know that. When is it?”

“Saturday.”

Spencer just launches himself into Derek’s lap in lieu of response, not that he has far to move on their cosy sofa, slotting himself against his body as they melt into one another. “Thank you for finally getting over yourself,” he says with his face buried in Derek’s neck.

Derek’s responding laugh jostles both of them as he wraps his arms around Spencer’s small frame, loving the way he fits in the palms of his hands. “I’m sorry it took me so long, baby,” he says, tone transitioning into sincerity. “But they can’t wait to meet you, and you’re going to love them.”

“I know,” Spencer says drily, pulling back to look him in his eyes. “Why do you think I’ve been pushing to meet them for the last five years?”

Derek answers with a squeeze to Spencer’s waist and a kiss to his shoulder. “Go on,” he says, lifting him off his lap to sit on the sofa next to him. “Finish your dinner.”

“Mm, I think I’ve had enough,” Spencer hums nonchalantly, busying himself with putting the carton on the coffee table as if Derek doesn’t know him like the back of his hands.

“This is your favourite dish from your favourite Chinese and you’re expecting me to believe you’ve just had enough,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong, pretty boy?”

“Nothing,” Spencer says, but he sounds winded and Derek isn’t stupid. He levels him with a look. “Okay… I just feel a bit sick is all.”

“Floor, sofa, or bed?” He’s aware of the nausea protocol, and he moves his own dinner aside as he springs into action.

“Floor.” He’d been surprised the first time his boyfriend had crawled onto the floor and lay curled up until the nausea passed, but it was second-nature now. Apparently, the flat, firm surface was the most comfortable when such intense sickness consumed him.

“Okay, baby, let’s go.” He gently lifts Spencer off the sofa and down onto the floor, taking care not to jostle him too much. His eyes stay closed, face screwed up as he tries to weather the waves of nausea crashing over him. It never fails to make Derek’s heart twist in pain. “Are you actually going to be sick?” The majority of nausea spells usually pass on their own with no vomit to speak of, and Spencer’s usually very good at telling which kind it is.

“No,” he whispers, reaching his hand slowly towards Derek’s and gripping it tightly. He gets the message and lays down next to him, stroking his hair softly as they wait in silence for Spencer’s body to right itself. It only takes about twenty minutes to pass, and when it does, Derek carries him to bed, bringing him his toothbrush and a flannel as they follow another of their set routines that have been established over so many years of being together.

“I love you so much, Spencer Reid,” Derek murmurs as they lay in bed together that night, the soft light of their bedroom catching on Spencer’s cheekbones.

“I love you more, Derek Morgan,” Spencer whispers back, voice slurred as he cuddles further into the arms of his boyfriend.

“Not possible,” Derek insists, but Spencer’s already dropping off to sleep.

⭐️

Spencer wakes up on the day of the dinner party in what Derek can clearly see is nothing short of agony. He doesn’t try to hide it, they’re mostly past that now — although he still sometimes convinces himself he can handle smaller symptoms by himself, no matter how many times Derek insists they’re a team — but he doesn’t say much either. The morning is spent on the sofa, using numerous heated blankets and painkiller combinations until he can at least think straight.

“How do you feel about this evening?” Derek asks as lunchtime approaches, rubbing Spencer’s good arm gently as he leans against him, legs outstretched on the chaise.

Spencer hums. “I’m gonna take a nap after lunch,” he decides after a moment of deliberation, “and then decide. I think with meds and the wheelchair, I’ll be okay.” He pauses for a moment as he nibbles nervously on his bottom lip. “Do you think they’ll be weird about the chair?”

“No, baby,” Derek says decisively. Really, he can’t believe he ever thought anything different, but he was scared and fear easily spirals into irrationality. “They won’t even blink. Especially since I warned them about the mobility aids. I think they’d be more surprised if you walked into the Rossi mansion.”

“You sure?”

It hurts Derek’s heart to hear him so anxious and uncertain, and it’s only more painful because he knows it's rooted in experience. He’s had to fight for most of his life to be seen as a competent adult, equal to his peers despite his disability, and people can be cruel. “I’m sure. And even if for some reason they were dicks about it, I’m there, okay? Nobody’s gonna get away with being anything other than an angel towards you when I’m around.”

Spencer giggles at that, turning his head into Derek’s chest. “You turn into the hulk when you’re protecting me.”

“I do,” he agrees, chuckling at the sound of Spencer’s adorable laugh, “and for good reason. No-one hurts my baby. You know that, and everyone else knows it, too. We’re gonna be just fine, pretty boy.”

Spencer sighs, reassured by Derek’s words. “Love you,” he whispers, twisting a bit to press a kiss to the side of Derek’s neck.

“I love you more,” Derek promises, lifting a hand to rest on Spencer’s cheek.

“Not possible.”

The rest of the day passes slowly as Spencer takes it easy, deciding that he’s definitely up to it after a decent nap curled up against a reading Derek. They get ready together, Derek helping him shower when his arms hurt too much to wash his hair and getting him dressed in his favourite outfit before dressing himself.

By the time six thirty rolls around, Spencer’s feeling a little bit better, his meds are hitting the spot and they’ve mastered all the wheelchair adaptations to make his life as easy as possible over the years. His cushions and heated seats connected to the wheelchair’s motor, which he uses to help self-propell at work, ease the pain as much as they can and the built in phone charger always makes him popular whenever they go out with friends. Plus, his cane and crutches connect neatly to the back of the chair, giving him more options, which is especially helpful on nights like this.

“Comfy?” Derek asks as he pushes him out of the apartment and into the hallway, locking the door behind them.

Spencer hums in affirmation, wiggling a little as he settles into the warm support of the chair. They have a ground floor apartment for safety reasons: Spencer needs to be able to exit the building if the lifts stop working, but it’s also convenient. They get down to the garage quickly and Derek helps him into the passenger seat before packing the wheelchair in the boot.

He spends the journey in contemplative silence and Derek can’t keep himself from shooting worried looks his way. His hand makes its way onto Spencer’s knee and he rubs his thumb gently against the skin, before stilling the digit, all too conscious of how painful repetitive stimulus can be, especially on days like these.

“Stop worrying, baby,” he says, ten minutes into the drive when Spencer still hasn’t said a word. His bottom lip is chapped from the worried chewing it has endured for most of the day. “They’re going to love you, I promise.”

“You really think so?”

Derek’s about to answer quickly but he looks over and sees how absolutely dead serious Spencer is. He sighs. “Let me tell you exactly why. Alex is a fellow academic with the softest streak of anyone in the BAU field team. Emily and JJ have the ability to befriend literally anyone, and Penelope already is in love with you, just from what I’ve said about you. She’s told me so multiple times. Rossi immediately accommodated you and wasn’t at all fazed when I mentioned your disability. Hotch is a gentle fatherly type when he’s talking to good people and the rest of the team, so he’ll just be interested in you as a person. There’s no-one I’m worried about, okay?”

“Okay,” Spencer whispers eventually, finally sounding like he actually believes him.

“Besides, you’ve already got one member of this team whipped,” Derek smirks, glancing over at him again.

He considers it a win when Spencer rolls his eyes, and his grin couldn’t be wider when he hears him mumble, “arrogant asshole” under his breath.

Derek’s grateful Rossi doesn’t have a gravel driveway as he gets Spencer out of the car and into his wheelchair, before pushing him the short way to the front door. They’d battled some tough terrain over the years, and gravel was absolutely his least favourite. As they approach the house, though, he notices that Spencer’s grip on his armrest is tight enough that his knuckles are white, and it hurts Derek’s heart that he’s only this nervous because real people and real experiences have given him genuine reason to be.

Before he gets to knock, though, the door is thrown open by an uncontainably excited Penelope. “You’re here!” she shouts, and completely bypasses Derek to shake Spencer’s hand. He’s glad she doesn’t crouch, just leans down a little so he doesn't have to reach up so far. “You must be Spencer. I’m Penelope. It is a crime that Derek has kept us apart for so long, but none of that matters now. Would you like me to push you in through to meet the others?”

“Um, it’s nice to finally meet you, Penelope,” he says, smiling at her genuinely. “Would you mind if Derek keeps pushing me, though?”

“Oh, no, that’s fine!” Her smile doesn’t drop a bit. “Come through, everyone’s already in the living room. Oh, and hi Chocolate Thunder.” She sends him a quick wink.

“Hi, Mama,” he says, rolling his eyes. He’s grinning, though. So far, so good.

They follow Penelope further into the house after Derek closes the door behind them, and the girls get up first. “Spencer, oh it’s so good to meet you,” Emily says, coming up and shaking his hand. “I’m Emily, this is JJ.”

“Hi,” JJ says, shaking his hand too, giving him a conspiratorial look. “I’m glad we finally bullied Derek into bringing his oh-so-secret beau to meet us.”

Derek just grins. “What can I say? I’m protective of my baby.” He reaches down and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“Ignore this caveman,” Spencer laughs, and Derek is sure he rolls his eyes again. “I’ve been dying to meet you all, too.”

“Well, it’s our pleasure,” Alex says, coming up for her turn. “I’m Alex. Your paper ‘How Thinking Makes Us Write’ you published a couple of years ago is incredible; I used it in my Psychology of Writing class last year and only just realised it was written by Derek’s top-secret boyfriend! I’d love to talk to you more about that later.”

“That’s so cool, wow, yeah I’d love that.” He smiles at her, clearly feeling a little flattered by the immediate praise of his work. Derek thinks it’s the least he deserves.

“I’m Aaron, but everyone calls me Hotch,” Hotch says as he and Rossi step forward, a warm smile on his face. “Sorry to overwhelm you with all these introductions, but it’s lovely to meet you. It really is a shame Derek’s been so secretive.”

Spencer smiles up at him. “Are we all going to dunk on Derek all night? Because if that’s the case, I’m glad I came,” he laughs, twisting around slightly to look at Derek.

“Yeah, yeah, keep talking, pretty boy,” he says, raising a brow. “Two can play at that game.”

“You’re too whipped, I’m not worried,” Spencer dismisses him, before touching his hand lovingly, letting him know that he’s only teasing.

“I don’t doubt it,” Rossi says. “I’m Dave, or Rossi, whichever you prefer. I actually own this house, despite being the last in line for a formal introduction. I’m sorry I didn’t greet you at the door, Penelope had been waiting on the stairs for half an hour so she could be the first to greet you.”

“That true, baby girl?” Derek chuckles, looking over at her.

She doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed, but then Derek doesn’t know what else he expected. “This is on you,” she defends herself, “if you hadn’t waited so long to introduce me to baby genius here, I wouldn’t have been so desperate to meet him.”

Spencer laughs at their interaction, turning his attention back to Rossi. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “Derek told me you were really accommodating, so thank you for that.”

He waves the thanks aside with a dismissive hand. “It’s nothing. Speaking of which, though, would you rather eat in your wheelchair or transfer to one of the dining chairs.”

Derek knows what’s about to happen even before he sees Spencer tense up. “Give us one second,” he says, wheeling him out into the hallway. Decisions are really hard for Spencer to make on bad days, especially those that pertain to his health or needs, and being under the eyes of so many people was not about to make that an easy interaction.

“Derek…” Spencer says anxiously, looking at him for help as he feels his mind spiral into fogginess at the question.

“Okay, it’s okay, baby,” he says soothingly, crouching down in front of him to be at eye level. He takes his hand and kisses it gently. “Do your hips need a break from the chair or would it be more painful to transfer?”

Phrasing questions like Rossi’s as directly applicable choices is always more digestible for Spencer and he sees him visibly relax at his words. “Hips need a break.”

“Great,” Derek says. “Do you want to go back in or do you need a minute to yourself?”

“No, I’m fine,” Spencer says, and he believes him. He instantly relaxed at having made a decision. “Let’s go back in.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

They walk back into a room full of vibrant conversation and laughter. “Oh, Spencer, Spencer,” Emily says, immediately roping him back into the conversation without making a big deal of him having to leave the room, “we’re debating whether Derek’s really the slob Alex insists he is. You need to help us settle it.”

“I shared a room with him once, okay,” she says, “it was a state!”

“I don’t doubt it,” Spencer agrees. “At home, he’s so anal about ‘everything in it’s place’ and won’t even let a mug sit on the counter without being washed up. But whenever we go away, he can’t keep the place clean, it’s the weirdest thing. It’s like his suitcase vomits its contents all over the room.”

“Hey, I didn’t know this dinner was gonna be all about airing my dirty laundry,” Derek laughs.

“Literally,” JJ points out.

“Right,” Rossi says, interrupting the laughter filling the room. “Dinner is ready, so we should eat. Did you come to a decision about seating, Spencer?” Derek’s impressed at how much he knows about accommodating disabilities. He probably has someone close to him who’s been through something similar to Spencer.

“I’ll transfer,” he confirms.

“Great, we can just move your wheelchair to the hall once you’re settled so it’s not in the way, if that’s okay?”

At Spencer’s nod, they all file into the kitchen/dining area and choose their places. Penelope bags the seat to Spencer’s left, Derek sitting to his right, as the other girls sit opposite them. Hotch and Rossi sit at Derek's end of the table. He holds hands with Spencer under the table all through the delicious pasta primavera, helping to ground him, reminding him he’s right there.

Conversation and laughter flows with the wine Rossi serves, and Derek doesn’t even mind his embarrassing stories being shared with the team, because it’s Spencer, and he’s so far gone for this man that he could slice him open and with his dying breath, Derek would thank him.

“I love you, really,” Spencer grins up at him, after he’s just revealed his Nina Simone shower concerts to everyone sitting around the table, everyone cracking up as the tough exterior Derek’s built up at work over the years slowly disintegrates, his own boyfriend fuelling the fire.

“And I love you, baby,” he says, leaning over to kiss him briefly, before pulling back. “Even when you spill my deepest darkest secrets.”

“Well, aren’t you two just the cutest,” Alex says fondly. “You’re a lucky man, Derek.”

“No, I’m the lucky one,” Spencer insists. “Do you know what he said when we first met? We were at the supermarket, and I was reaching for some baby carrots. He said ‘whoa, pretty boy, don’t get those ones. They go off far too quickly. Someone as beautiful as you deserves better than that’. No mention of the wheelchair or bags under my eyes. He didn’t see Disabled Spencer, he just saw Spencer. Asked for my number then and there.”

“You were irresistible,” Derek says fondly, brushing a thumb against his cheek. “I knew right at that moment I would spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Stop,” Penelope begs, “my heart is literally a puddle on the floor. This world needs more Derek Morgans.”

“I’ll toast to that,” JJ says, her face just as soft as Penelope’s.

“A real toast,” Hotch says, raising his glass with a happy smile on his face. Derek very rarely sees such a relaxed expression on his face, and as much as they have their disagreements, it’s a nice thing to see. “A toast to Derek and Spencer. May your happiness live long and be as contagious as it is tonight.”

Everyone toasts to his words, and Spencer buries his face in Derek’s shoulder, a little embarrassed at the attention. They sit around the table a little longer, but Spencer slowly sags against his body, finding it painful to keep himself upright.

Noticing this, Penelope claps her hands. “Shall we move back to the living room? I bought chocolate and Rossi has wine.”

“This is true,” Rossi says as they all get up. He grabs Spencer’s wheelchair from the hall and Derek helps him back into it as they head back to the sofas.

“It’s weird using my chair inside,” Spencer laughs as Derek pulls him into his chest so he doesn’t have to keep himself steady upright, everyone else settling themselves around the room.

“Do you not need it often?” Hotch asks.

“No, I need it quite a lot. I just don’t usually have to. Derek’s usually fairly insistent on carrying me around our apartment.”

“We’ll never live in a big house,” Derek says, chuckling along with anyone else. “I couldn’t haul this big lug around a Rossi mansion, now could I?”

“Hey!” Spencer smacks his side lightly.

“You’re 6 foot tall, baby,” Derek defends himself. “You might be tiny but there’s still a lot of you.”

“Fair enough,” Spencer acquiesces, laying his head just under Derek’s chin.

“Right,” Rossi says, coming back into the room, “I have more of your non-alcoholic wine, Spencer, and more of the real stuff for everyone else. Hand out the chocolates, Penelope, and we’ll have ourselves some satisfied guests.”

“I don’t live here, old man,” Penelope says, raising an eyebrow but getting up from her seat cuddled against Emily and JJ anyway.

“Hey, you answered the door to pretty much everyone today; you’re co-hosting.”

“Can’t argue with that, Penelope,” Emily says drily, looking on amusedly as she huffs but hands out the chocolates anyway.

Derek discreetly pops two painkillers out in his pocket and hands it to Spencer, who swallows them down with a sip of his non-alcoholic wine, relaxing as they start to take effect. They all chat leisurely for a while, enjoying each other’s company in a non-pressured environment where they’re not surrounded by high profile cases and serial killers.

Eventually, though, Spencer starts to fall asleep on his chest, clearly feeling relaxed enough in the warm room, pressed up against his boyfriend and surrounded by the reassuring conversation of people he trusts. As soon as Derek notices, though, he knows it’s time to get him home and into bed before any true crisis of pain or fatigue takes place.

“I think we’ll need to get going, guys,” he says quietly, drawing everyone’s attention to Spencer’s dozing form. He watches as their faces soften and conversation quietens, everyone clearly enamoured with his boyfriend. It occurs to him that he feels no jealousy, only pride that he gets to call this wonderful man his, that he’ll be going home with him tonight, tucking him into bed and cuddling him until he falls asleep.

He shakes Spencer gently, and the others start to get up, tidying or just moving through to the kitchen so as not to embarrass him when he opens his eyes. “Sorry,” he murmurs sleepily, as he looks up at Derek. “I’m tired.”

“I know, baby,” he says softly, feeling so fond his heart could burst. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

Everyone’s sad to see him go, gathering at the front door to say their goodbyes.

“You are invited to every BAU event from hereon in,” Penelope asserts confidently as she leans down for a gentle hug. She whispers, “you’re better company than Derek, anyway.”

“I heard that, Mama,” he says, poking her in the side.

“You were meant to,” she says, sending him a pointed look, before dropping the act and wrapping him in a hug as the others say goodbye to Spencer.

“It was so nice to finally meet you, Spencer,” Hotch says warmly. “Derek had better not keep us from seeing anymore of you.”

“I’m not sure I could possibly get away with that anymore,” he sighs. “Guess I’ll have to share my baby with you assholes.”

Spencer rolls his eyes at that, stifling a yawn. “Come on, caveman,” he says, rolling his eyes again. “I need to get home.”

“Anything for you, my highness,” he chuckles, before lifting his chin with his knuckle and bending down to kiss him briefly.

“Bye, lovebirds,” Emily calls as they make their way to their car.

“Drive safely,” JJ shouts, which makes Derek laugh fondly. He does love his team.

“See you on Monday,” he calls back as he helps Spencer into the passenger seat. They drive home in the comforting darkness of night, illuminated by the car and street lights of the city, and satisfaction pools in his stomach as he reflects on such a perfect evening as Spencer falls asleep against the passenger window. It really couldn’t have gone any better, and the relief he feels is staggering: the two most important facets of his life finally integrated after far too long.

While his whole life feels like it’s finally falling into place, all that really matters is that the man who is his entire world is happy, a small smile on his sleeping face as the shadows of the city brush their way over his cheekbones. He has to force his eyes back to the road, but he can’t resist the hand he slips into Spencer’s, or the smile that lights up his face as even in his sleep, Spencer’s fingers curl themselves around his.

Spencer's symptoms in this fic could fit any number of neurological conditions, but his unnamed condition was modelled on my own experience with fibromyalgia. I have a rather severe case, as would Spencer if he was diagnosed with this illness. The symptoms could also fit these conditions in one way or another: Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (M.E.), Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS), Lupus, Rheumatoid Arthritis or Axial Spondyloarthritis, as well as others I'm sure I'm forgetting.

Everything about Spencer’s disability is true to the chronically ill/disabled experience as I know it, and to learn more please visit the end notes on AO3 where I explain in a little more detail some of the features of Spencer’s symptoms and condition.

<333

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @hotchgans @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith

#my writing #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #moreid #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #moreid fic #moreid fluff #moreid au #criminal minds au #disabled spencer reid

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silhouetteofacedar · 4 years ago

Text

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 5: Dana's Work Friend

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Friday, April 3rd, 1998. Scully comes into the office in a flurry of coat and red hair. She doesn’t greet him, just drops her briefcase on the desk and sinks into her seat across from him.

“Mulder, I have a favor to ask of you, and you’re probably going to hate it, so just bear in mind that I have exhausted all my other options,” she says, somewhat breathless.

“You’re really selling it,” he deadpans. “What is it?” he asks, settling into his chair and leaning his elbows on the desk.

“You remember Mark,” she prompts, and he nods. Ugh. If only he could forget.

“Well, it turns out that Mark is extremely - almost agonizingly - social, despite having a demanding job and a young child to raise.”

“Sounds awful,” Mulder comments.

“Hence my current predicament. He’s invited me and my friends out for drinks tonight, so his friends can meet me and I can meet his and he can meet mine… “ she rambles before refocusing herself. “He’s not aware that I’ve lost contact with most of my friends. You’re kind of the only one left.”

Mulder had suspected as much, but confirmation of her increasing social isolation is like a punch in the throat. “Are you sure there’s no one else?” he asks softly, not wanting to rub salt into any wounds.

She shakes her head, lips pressed together. “Unless the Lone Gunmen count as my friends,” she replies. “Which in this case is somehow worse than having none at all,” she muses, some humor in her voice.

“Good point,” he chuckles. “Sure, count me in.”

“Thank you,” she says sincerely, and he melts all over again. He’d do anything for her. Even if it means meeting Mark. Ugh.

“It’s worth mentioning,” Mulder says after a moment, “If you don’t want to go, you can always just not go.”

“Shockingly, I have thought of that,” she says dryly, opening her briefcase and pulling out a folder. “But I think it would be good for me to meet people and hold conversations that aren’t related to criminal or paranormal activity. Might be good for you, too,” she adds, glancing up at him.

He pulls a stack of files out of his inbox on the desk. “I’ll stick to ‘ghosties and ghoulies and long-leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night’,” he says.

“‘Good Lord, deliver us',” Scully replies, finishing the old prayer.

Mulder looks up at her and finds her smiling at him, and his whole body flushes with heat and adoration.

“Let’s elope,” he says, and she rolls her eyes fondly before burying her nose in her work.

I’m not kidding, he yells inside the prison of his own thick skull.

After work he and Scully drive straight to the bar together, a yuppie place in Foggy Bottom near George Washington University Hospital.

“Have you ever been through their ER?” Scully asks, scanning the street for parking. “I imagine you’ve been through enough hospitals to warrant a map on the wall with little pins stuck in it.”

“I can’t possibly remember them all at this point,” he says absently, tugging at his seatbelt uncomfortably. Why is he nervous? He’s just here to show Scully’s man friend that she’s not entirely a basement-dwelling hermit.

And Mulder’s the best she could do? God, maybe she really does need to get out more.

She parks, and he feeds the meter while she touches up her lipstick in the rearview mirror. She looks sweet and and rosy, flushed with nerves and traffic, and he could so easily scoop her up and kiss her-

“Alright,” she says, climbing out of the car and closing the driver’s side door a little harder than necessary. She smooths her hair down. “I’m ready for battle.”

“I’m prepared to fall on my sword,” he assures her, guiding her onto the sidewalk with a hand on her lower back before realizing he probably shouldn’t touch her so familiarly when her… friend might see.

“It’ll be fine,” she says over her shoulder as she grasps the bar door’s handle. “Just behave,” she hisses, and they enter.

The onslaught is immediate.

“Dana!” a voice calls out through the bustling bar, and Mulder sees a man waving them over. He’s got neatly styled dishwater blond hair, broad shoulders, and dimples at the corners of his mouth as he smiles at them. Not bad, Mulder thinks, unsure of how to feel about this new information.

He barely has time to process it before they’re enveloped in a tight swarm of strangers. The blond man, presumably Mark, loops an arm around Scully’s shoulders and gives her a side-hug.

“So glad you could make it, Dana,” he says, and proceeds to go around the circle of people and rattle off names Mulder has no reason to remember. Instead, he watches Scully, the way she greets each person as they’re introduced. She’s cool and calm, smiling politely, shaking hands and saying ‘nice to meet you’ to each of the five - no, six - people in the group.

“I’ll grab you two some drinks,” Mark says, glancing at Mulder. “What’s your poison?”

“Shiner,” Mulder says.

“Same for me,” Scully says. “I’m going to freshen up-”

“Sure,” Mark says, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “Two Shiner Bocks coming up.”

That’s how Mulder and this exuberant, Golden Retriever of a man end up sitting at the bar together, nursing sweaty beers and waiting for Scully to return from the bathroom.

“So you’re a work friend of Dana’s?” Mark asks over the noise of the bar.

Mulder was about to set his drink down, but he reconsiders and takes another swig. “In a manner of speaking,” he replies.

Dr. Mark Whatever-the-fuck seems confused. “I don’t follow,” he says.

“I’m her partner,” Mulder says flatly. Since 1993. I’ve seen her naked, cradled her injured body my arms, saved her goddamn life. Have you?

“Oh!” Mark says, clearly making mental connections. “Oh. Sorry, I just- it’s nice to meet you… Fox?”

“Just Mulder’s fine,” he corrects him.

Mark laughs. “Sorry for the confusion on my end; I think Dana only said your name once and I went and assumed Fox Mulder was a woman. And you know what they say about assuming,” he adds with a nudge.

Once. Only once? Maybe that shouldn’t surprise him, but it does. Whenever he meets someone new in Scully’s life they always throw out the usual ‘I’ve heard a lot about you’ line, so he knows she talks about him to others. But not to this guy. Why not to this guy?

Mercifully, Scully returns from the restroom. Mark hands her her beer. “Thanks,” she says softly, giving him a small smile with her lips closed tightly, which strikes Mulder as odd. He knows she’s somewhat self-conscious about smiling with her teeth, but something he sees in her face doesn’t feel quite right.

Of course it doesn’t feel right to you, he thinks. She’s smiling at some other guy.

They’re swept along in a current of conversation, scrambled introductions, and drink orders. He’s introduced to a handful of people he’ll selectively erase from his eidetic memory, standing across from Scully in their little circle instead of by her side. He doesn’t like it. Another man has his hand on her back, although respectfully keeping it between her shoulder blades. Any lower and Mulder would have to excuse himself to have a panic attack in the alley behind the bar. Or throw up.

He’s glad Mark’s friends aren’t particularly interested in making conversation with him; he’s tired and ready to go home. Luckily, the Doctor himself calls the night early, at half-past eight.

“I promised the little one I’d be home to tuck her in,” he explains, and Mulder’s stomach turns from the purity and sweetness of it. “She gets to stay up a little later on Fridays.” He gives Scully another half of a hug and says his goodbyes.

The group disperses pretty quickly after Mark leaves, and Mulder and Scully are left alone outside the bar.

“So, you met Mark,” Scully says simply.

“I did, yeah.” He can sense that she wants him to say something more. “He seems... nice,” Mulder adds.

Scully nods. “Yeah, he’s nice.”

Mulder’s beginning to think ‘nice’ is the only word anyone’s capable of using to describe this guy.

“I’ll bet Bill’s gonna love him,” he comments, hoping he doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels.

Scully shakes her head, smiling. “I knew there had to be a flaw in him somewhere,” she jokes.

Mulder surprises himself with a huffed laugh. This moment with her is strangely precious, despite the circumstances. He doesn’t know how many moments like this he has left, if he’s being honest.

“I’m happy for you,” he says tenderly, and maybe if he says it enough it’ll be true. She deserves this, he reminds himself. It’s become almost a mantra, a lead weight that keeps him from drifting away.

“Are you?” she asks, catching him off guard. “I caught you staring holes into him more than once.”

“I wasn’t,” Mulder says defensively. “This is just my face.”

She gives him a look that clearly says ‘I call bullshit’, and he folds. “He didn’t know who I was,” he says, and it sounds monumentally stupid out loud. “He though Fox Mulder was a woman.”

“I-I don’t know why he would have thought that,” Scully says, pensive. “I never implied-”

“Fox is an unusual name,” Mulder interrupts. “It’s an honest mistake if you just hear it without any context.”

Scully looks down at her feet. “I’m sorry about that,” she says softly. “About all of this. I owe you one.”

Mulder reaches out and squeezes her shoulder, and it seems to have a grounding effect on both of them. “I’ll put it on your tab,” he says.

“Do you want me to drive you back to work?” she asks. They’d left his car in the garage at the Hoover building.

Mulder shakes his head. “You’re almost home,” he says. “I’ll get a cab.”

He ends up walking instead.

The night air cleanses his senses as he makes the half-hour trek back to the Bureau. Their time in the bar had felt sluggish and hazy, despite the fact that he only had a beer and a half. He spend the entire evening focused on Scully, the only sharp image amidst the blur of patrons.

Mark hadn’t kissed Scully goodbye, and Mulder’s relief at not having to witness it was overshadowed by a morbid curiosity. She and Mark had been dating for three weeks; he’s not sure how often they’ve actually gone out, due to the doctor’s shift schedule, but he assumes they’ve seen each other a few times at mass in addition to whatever outings they’ve gone on in the evenings. That was ample time to get to know each other physically on some level, wasn’t it? A peck on the cheek at least.

Mulder’s biased; he’s touch-starved and in love with her. He spends most of his nights on his couch in the dark, touching himself and thinking about Scully. Kissing her, taking her clothes off, tasting her; his mental catalogue of scenarios is robust and well-used. If given half the chance to love her…

Maybe that’s it, he thinks somberly, stepping over sidewalk cracks. Maybe chances are taken, not given.

That’s not how he wants to love her. He wants her to choose him all on her own, and yet he never let her know he was a choice. And now there’s Mark.

But Mark doesn’t kiss her.

#my fic #msr #txf fic #xfiles #fox mulder closet romantic #FMCR #in which mark and Mulder meet #oof #the pain

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randomposterofstuff · 3 years ago

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Soldiers by Choice - Chapter VI

Author's Note: So, real life has been stressing me out immensely. Lol. And I really wanted to post this chapter as soon as I could, so please forgive me for any mistakes and any other problems. Haha. In any case, I hope that you all like it!

Also available on Archive of Our Own. Check my tumblr page to click on the ‘Archive of Our Own’ tab!

Tumblr Chapters List can be found here.

CHAPTER 6: Reasons and Apologies

Summary: Mikasa and Levi encounter troublesome Military Police officers while doing a supply run. Meanwhile, at the Cadet Corps headquarters, Eren Yeager and Jean Kirstein have another confrontation.

Year 847 (5 months later)

---

“Tch. They’re out of bleach.”

Levi glares at the empty row of shelves where jars of commercial bleach usually would be. A few feet away to his left, Mikasa speaks with the shop owner.

“Mr. Gale, I don’t understand. Section Commander Hange told us that you usually have stocks of everything during this time of the month.”

The Titan-scientist and Moblit were on the supply pick-up rotation for the current month. But since they were away on another observation expedition with the Research division, the task had fallen to the two Ackermans.

Mr. Gale, an aging man in his early 50s, clasps his hands apologetically. “I’m sorry, Captain. But due to some issues with our supplier, we won’t have stocks until next month.”

The dark-haired woman sighs at the news. “I see. We will just have to make do with an alternative and the other supplies.”

After a few more words and apologetic gestures from the shop owner, she approaches her co-captain, who is still glowering at the vacant racks.

“They won’t restock until next month.”

His frown deepens. “How the hell are we supposed to properly clean without bleach?”

Mikasa cracks a small smile at his displeasure over the absence of the cleaning agent. In the back of her mind, she muses that even after three years of working together, she still finds his pseudo-obsession with cleanliness to be comical to the point of disbelief.

“We can make our own cleaning formula.” She says. “The store has the necessary ingredients, and the budget is enough to cover them.”

The tautness in his jaw relents at this. “You know how to make bleach?”

She nods. “I do. My mother created her own cleanser. The employees at our estate use it.”

His eyebrows raise in mild surprise. “I didn’t know the Azumabitos also dealt in the cleaning business.” He remarks wryly.

She shifts her eyes from side to side before taking a step closer. "It's a closely guarded family secret." She whispers mock-conspiratorially.

He smirks. “Your secret is safe with me.” He speaks in a similarly hushed tone, and she mirrors his smirk.

---

After perusing the store for the needed ingredients, the two officers help the elderly shop owner place all their purchased supplies in eight wooden crates.

“That’s everything.” Mr. Gale comments as he places the lid on the final crate. “I’ll call my boys to help you load them on your cart.”

“There’s no need for that.” Levi says, already readying himself to lift some of the boxes. “We can handle it.”

The proprietor laughs good-naturedly. "Come now, Captain Levi. I know that you’re ‘Humanity’s Strongest Soldier’ and that Captain Mikasa is the ‘Woman Worth a Hundred Soldiers”, but you can’t rea---”

He cuts himself off when the two Ackermans each lift four boxes with little effort.

Mikasa shifts the crates so that she faces the shop owner properly. "Mr. Gale, you've already received the payment from our budgetary officer, correct?"

The older man merely nods, his mouth still agape in shock at the display of inhuman strength.

“We’ll be on our way, then. Thanks, old man.” Levi states, unfazed by the reaction.

The warm afternoon sun greets them as they exit the shop. The commercial area of Trost is filled with chatter from the mass of patrons. Due to the crowded streets, they had to leave their wagon at a fairly secluded area some ways away from the store.

When they finally arrive at where they parked, the crowd has thinned considerably. The few people there are either entering or exiting the complex. The two are in the process of loading the crates onto the cart when they hear the sound of glass breaking, followed by a frightened yell to their right.

They turn their heads to the source see to see a small saloon. One of its front windows is covered by pull-down drapes, while the other one is unobscured. Through the glass of the second one, the co-captains see a middle-aged man and woman, presumably the owners, anxiously speaking to two Military Police officers.

“Whaddaya mean we have to pay?” An MP with light hair slurs loudly while gripping a long-necked bottle.

The woman, who looks to be in her early 40s, attempts to explain. “Sir, you’ve consumed more than two bottles already.” She says, wringing her hands together nervously. “And our store ---”

“Blah!” The other MP, a man with darker hair, sways as he unslings his rifle from his shoulder. Both the woman and her partner take a step back, visibly terrified. “We serve the kingdom!” He yells. “You lot should be grateful! Besides, your stuff tastes like shit!"

He unsteadily aims his rifle at a row of bottles behind the counter while his companion laughs. “You’re right, Ricky!” He shouts, smashing the bottle he was holding against the floor.

The one called Ricky guffaws. "Damn right, I'm right, George!" Slightly swaying, he disengages the safety lock. “I’ve been wanting to try this beauty out! They say this thing can shoot 15 bullets in a row after just one click!” Just as he is about to place his finger on the trigger, he is suddenly struck across the head. The impact of the attack causes him to drop his weapon.

“Ricky!” George makes to unsling his own rifle but barely has time to react before a heavy boot hits him in the stomach. He faintly registers his gun being snatched from him before he is thrown across the room and roughly crashes onto a table and some chairs. One second later, Ricky lands beside him with a loud thud.

They both groan for a moment before raising their heads and seeing the profiles of two other soldiers in the area where they had been standing before. “Hey!” George yells while unsteadily getting up. “What gives?!” He demands, face flushed with both embarrassment and alcohol. “Who are you anyway?!” He trains his glazed-over beady eyes at their assailants.

Levi narrows his eyes, not the least bit intimidated. “You were harassing innocent civilians.” He crosses his arms, leveling him with a look of disdain. "Taxpayer money is wasted on pigs like you.”

“They’re from the Survey Corps!” Ricky exclaims, pointing to the Wings of Freedom on the fronts of their jackets. “You two have got some nerve!” He glares, eyes glassy with inebriation. “Accusing us of wasting taxpayer money when you ---”

Mikasa quietly raises his rifle at him, causing him to cut himself short. Both MPs freeze at the movement.

“P—put that down and g—give it back!” Ricky demands, voice shaking.

Mikasa shifts her gaze from the anxious Military Police officers and to the firearm in her hands. She examines its long sleek frame and swipes her thumb over the grip.

“It saddens me to see that my father’s guns were used to frighten defenseless civilians.” She comments out loud, her tone a cross between pensive and disappointed.

George’s brows scrunch up in confusion at her statement. “Huh?!” The two MPs look at her dumbly, trying to comprehend the meaning behinds her words.

Meanwhile, Levi picks up the second rifle from the floor, ignoring the whimpers from the two pigs. He feels the gun's weight in his hands and notes that it is light compared to other models. He then places his thumb on the butt of the rifle and runs it over the engraved encircled cursive 'A' which serves as the insignia of Lord Mikhail Ackerman's gun manufacturing company. He muses that the emblem looks similar to the Azumabito clan symbol on the inside of Mikasa’s wrist.

“If it’s any consolation,” he begins, still looking at the rifle, “I think that your father did a great job with this gun, Mikasa.” He remarks almost idly.

“Thanks, Levi.”

“Levi? Mikasa?” George repeats their names, a hint of recognition in their slurred tone. “Mikasa… Mikhail A—“. Shock settles on his features as they finally connect the dots. His eyes further widen in realization when they shift to Levi. “… Ackerman.”

“You’re Levi and Mikasa Ackerman!” George exclaims, lips trembling. At his exclamation, Ricky’s mouth drops open as sweat starts to form on his brow. The two men nervously shift their eyes between the co-captains – panic and recognition clearing away the drink-induced glazes in their eyes.

“I mean, my lord and lady!” George suddenly bows at the waist. His companion scrambles to do the same. “Our apologies! We didn’t recognize you!”

Levi’s jaw clenches at their sycophantic gesture. “Tch. Do not call us those.” He hisses. “And quit your groveling.”

They straighten themselves instantly at the vitriol in his voice. “My lord?” One of them squeaks.

Mikasa takes a sharp breath. “We’re not at the royal court.” She states, an edge to her voice. “Furthermore, we’re acting in our capacities as officers of the Survey Corps. So, if you’re going to address us, do so accordingly.”

“Yes, my la---, I mean, Captain!” The same MP yelps. “We’re sorry!”

Mikasa narrows her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “You’re clearly not genuine.” She speaks coldly. “And it appears that the likes of you get your bravado from carrying my father’s guns. Perhaps I should tell him to terminate his weapons provision contract with the Military Police.”

“Please don’t!” They both plead simultaneously, alarm in their voices. Clearly frightened of the consequences should they be the cause of the loss of the contract. “This won’t happen again!”

The disdain in her dark grey eyes indicates that she is not convinced. “I don’t believe you.” Mikasa then grips that rifle’s ammunition magazine. “So, I’m going to take these.”

Following her lead, Levi makes to do the same with the rifle in his hands. “I’ll take care of this one.”

Once he’s done, Mikasa holds out a hand, and he gives her the second rifle. She throws the weapons at the feet of the two MPs. “Take those and leave.” She commands, voice near imperious. “And don’t forget to put your payment on the counter.”

The two men do as they are told. They wordlessly take the ammo-less rifles and practically empty their wallets onto the counter before leaving the saloon with their heads bowed.

Once they were out of sight, the two Ackermans turn to the shop owners, who had been silently watching the exchange from the sidelines with bated breath.

“We’re not from the Military Police.” Levi states plainly. “But all the same, we’re sorry for the trouble they caused.”

The middle-aged man shakes himself from his daze. “Oh, please! You have nothing to apologize for!” He says, a nervous but sincere smile on his face. “In fact, my wife and I should thank you, my lord and lady!” His eyes then widen at his slip of tongue. “I’m sorry, I mean---”

Mikasa raises her hands in a calming gesture. “It’s alright.” She assures him with a smile.

The man’s tension eases, relieved at her assurance.

“Thank you so much, Captains.” His wife steps forward, wearing a bright and grateful smile. “May we offer you something to eat and drink?”

“Oh, we ---” Mikasa begins, about to politely decline.

“It’s on the house!” The husband insists. “It’s the least that we could do for you! We insist.”

Mikasa observes their smiling and amiable expressions before turning to Levi. She lifts her brows, and he gives a slight shrug before taking out his pocket watch.

“I suppose we have time before we need to get back to headquarters.” He comments.

The shop owners beam at the response. “Wonderful! I’m Tim Briles, by the way, and this is my wife, Frances." Tim introduces himself and his wife. “Please, have a seat. The menu is by the counter. Order anything you want!”

"Sure." Levi replies, and he turns towards the turned-over tables and chairs. “I’ll fix the tables and chairs. I’ll have what you’re having.”

“Noted." Mikasa states as she makes her way to the counter. She peruses the menu and, after a minute of deliberating, settles on a sandwich platter and chamomile tea. She vaguely wonders if the tea selection is meant for customers with hangovers.

After an enthusiastic Frances takes their order, she makes her way to Levi, who has just finished righting the disarray of furniture. As she approaches, her co-captain suddenly pulls out a chair and gestures for her to sit.

Mikasa looks at him questioningly, and he tilts his head towards the offered chair.

She decides to play along. “How very gentlemanly of you.” She jests, voice half-coquettish as she moves to sit.

“Only for you, my lady.” He drawls as he pushes the chair in for her.

They both snicker at the mocking references to their noble backgrounds.

“So, what are we having?” He asks as he sits from across her.

“Tea and sandwiches.” He raised a brow at ‘tea’, and she smiles. "I know; I was also surprised to see it on the menu.”

Levi hums. “In any case, it’s too early for liquor.”

A few minutes pass, and Frances approaches their table with their food and drinks. “Here are your orders. Enjoy!”

The co-captains both thank the female shop owner, and they split the sandwiches and tea between themselves.

Comfortable silence ensues as they eat their sandwiches. Levi muses that the saloon’s turkey sandwich is quite good. He takes a look at the sandwich in Mikasa’s hand and deduces from the green poking out from the bread that it’s full of vegetables.

After he finishes his food and begins stirring his tea, a random realization suddenly occurs to him.

“Something wrong?” Mikasa asks, noticing the contemplative furrow of his brow.

“No.” He replies, taking out the spoon from his cup and gripping it by the rim. “It’s just that I realized you actually used the ‘I’m going to tell my daddy’ card.”

Mikasa blinks at the remark. A beat of silence passes before she bursts into laughter.

Her shoulders slightly shake as hearty chuckles flow from her. She laughs in earnest at the absurdity and the truth of the statement.

Levi’s lips curve upwards at her open display of mirth, observing how her usually stern eyes crinkle at the corners and how genuine joy shines through her typically reserved expression.

“I’m sorry.” Mikasa says, still giggling as she adjusts her cravat around her neck. “You’re right, but it’s just so ridiculous.” She remarks, her smile wide. “Come to think of it, I’ve never used it before.” She muses out loud, her lips still twitching.

“At least you used it for a good cause.” He quips, sharing in her amusement.

She chortles at his joke. He also lets out an amused sound.

She eventually sobers down, though a small smile still remains on her lips.

But after a moment, her eyes suddenly become downcast, and her smile disappears.

Levi frowns in concern at the abrupt change in her demeanor. “What’s wrong?”

She takes a breath before directing her gaze towards the afternoon sky beyond the saloon’s window.

“Moments like this…” she speaks quietly as she raises her hand to gesture at their light-hearted conversation, “…don’t come by often.” A sad gleam then enters her eyes. “In a way, it’s… sort of unsettling.”

Levi’s lips press into a firm line at the reality of her words. Every soldier in the Survey Corps knows that every encounter with the Titans could be their very last. Danger, risk, and bloodshed are their constant companions. And the absences of the comrades lost will always be felt by those who live to join the next expedition.

The survivors know that it is their duty to honor the sacrifices of the fallen by carrying on with their mission. Yet, this knowledge hangs heavy over the heads of those who remain standing.

“I know what you mean.” He says, voice solemn. “Enjoying a moment of peace can be hard sometimes, considering the things we go through.”

They remain quiet for a while, the atmosphere suddenly tenser. Mikasa closes her eyes and sighs before speaking again.

“Sometimes, I wonder what my life would be like right now if I had stayed in the Capital or joined the clan’s Elite Royal Company.” She stares intently into her cup of tea, wistfulness underlying her tone. “I would probably be promenading with the other nobles in the parks. Or patrolling the grounds at the Fritz castle. Either way, my life would be simpler and less daunting."

A flash of resolve then enters her gaze. “But I already made my choice a long time ago.” She declares with a quiet certainty in her words. “And I’ve chosen to be a soldier for the Survey Corps.”

Levi quietly observes her profile. She sits with the graceful posture of a noble lady – a result of her upbringing. But her shoulders are squared with a soldier’s discipline. She holds her teacup delicately, but her fingers are calloused from years of wielding blades. Had she chosen differently, she could have been a socialite hostess.

The passing thought then prompts a question. “Why didyou join the Survey Corps in the first place?”

Mikasa half-smiles at that. It was a question she was often asked – the daughter of a noble joining any of the military branches was unheard of. Although, she never divulged anything apart from saying that she merely wanted to.

“I could ask you the same question, Levi.” She prompts back.

For all his fame, no one has ever known of his reason for joining the Survey Corps. Not surprising, since he would always brush off anyone who asks by telling them that it’s none of their damn business.

But Levi decides that he wouldn’t mind making an exception for her. “I’ll share if you share.”

Mikasa hums as if contemplating the proposition. “Fair enough.”

A moment passes before she continues. “I joined because of my Asian heritage.”

He raises a brow in confusion. But stays silent and waits for her to elaborate.

“The Azumabitos are the last Asians in the world.” She explains. “Our clan’s records state that our ancestors’ homeland, Asia, was full of rare creatures and mysterious fauna. Unfortunately, just like every other continent, it was invaded along with the rest of humanity by the Titans.”

“My parents gave me everything I needed while growing up. But they taught me that if I wanted something, then I should work to earn it.” Mikasa pauses as her lips twist wryly. “And since I wanted to see the roots of my Asian heritage, I decided as a child that I would join the Survey Corps to help eradicate the Titans.”

“It’s silly.” She remarks, more to herself, amused at her younger self’s reason. “But it’s what prompted me to enlist.”

Her expression then becomes more pensive, and she redirects her gaze to the table between them. “But after my first expedition, I realized that there are things which are bigger than my wants. I suppose you could say that it opened my eyes. Seeing first-hand the dangers and struggles made me understand the weight of the Corps’ mission.”

She looks up at him again. “I still want to see Asia…” she admits with a bashful look. “… and if we can eradicate the Titans during my lifetime, then I’ll be to do that.”

“But even if that won’t happen, I won’t have any regrets about joining the Survey Corps.”

With that, she concludes her piece. Levi remains quiet for a moment, feeling astounded and moved at the revelation.

“I’m glad that you joined, Mikasa.” He says softly.

She smiles at his remark. “Thank you for saying that.” A tinge of levity then enters her dark orbs. “Now, I believe it’s your turn to share.”

Levi tsks, but there’s mirth in the slight quirk of his mouth. “I suppose a deal’s a deal.”

He swirls the contents of his teacup before speaking. “When I was a kid, my great grandfather would always preach about upholding the clan’s tradition of being the Crown’s ‘Sword and Shield’.” He drawls out the last two words.

“Just like you and everyone else in our clan, I was trained to be the best fighter possible – because, of course, the royal family only expects the best to protect it.” He pauses to take a drink.

“Sure, it’s natural for the royal family to have protection.” He concedes. “But our clan’s talents are being wasted. The biggest threats are out there beyond the Walls, and our clansmen use their many years of special training to deal with problems that the Military Police pigs are supposed to handle.”

Levi lifts his gaze to hers. "So, I said to myself, ‘to hell with tradition’.”

She lets out a small laugh. “Of course, you would say something like that.”

He smirks before taking another sip. “So, I decided to enlist in the Survey Corps. Thankfully, my uncle became head of the clan even before my rite of passage. And since he isn’t as uptight and prissy as my great grandfather was, he let me go without much of a fuss. I wanted to put my skills to better use. And what better way to use them than to reclaim the lands stolen by the Titans from humanity?”

“And after everything I’ve seen…” he trails off, a more somber and pensive look in his eyes as he stares at his cup, “…I’m now surer than ever that I made the right choice.”

A quiet second passes before Mikasa speaks. “That’s very noble of you.” She says, her voice earnest.

Her co-captain snorts out a harsh laugh. “If it were anyone else, I’d say that they were kissing my ass.”

Remembering the incident with the two MPs earlier, she likewise smiles in good humor; his words can’t be any truer.

“But since it’s you…” his harsh smirk morphs into a gentler smile, “… thanks.”

Her smile remains as their eyes meet again.

“You know, it’s odd…” she begins off-handedly, “We’ve known each other for years, but this is the first time we talked about something like this.”

He raises a brow. “Is it? I wasn’t aware that there was a standard timeline for sharing things.”

Another light laugh escapes her, and Mikasa wonders if Levi realizes how humorous he can be at times.

---

Chatter fills the air of the communal dining hall of the Southern Division’s Cadet Corps Headquarters – with the main source of noise and talk being the long dining table where Eren Yeager sits with his friends.

“Eren, what you did was really cool!”

“Yeah, I don’t think that anyone else here would’ve been able to do that!”

From his seat at another table at the far right of the hall, Jean Kirstein watches as several trainees crowd around Yeager and pay him compliments for his incredible feat earlier this morning.

Connie sits across the green-eyed recruit with a wide grin on his face. “Eren, you were amazing earlier!” He exclaims. “Being able to balance yourself using defective equipment was incredible!”

Beside him, Sasha nods enthusiastically as she munches on a loaf of bread. She smiles broadly after gulping down her food. "You really did well, all things considered!" She exclaims while not so discreetly trying to take Connie's bread from his plate.

The shaved-headed boy snatches her wrist before she could lift the loaf to her mouth. “Oh, come on! You haven’t even finished your own bread!” He grumbles, exasperated as Sasha strains against his grip.

Eren chuckles at the display before scratching the back of his head with a sheepish expression. Even so, his green eyes seem to glow with pride and appreciation. “Thanks, guys.”

“Congratulations on a job well done, Eren.” Christa speaks from amongst the group that congregated around the table. “Your determination paid off.”

Eren's cheeks redden slightly at her smile. "Thanks, Christa. But I can't take all of the credit. Armin here gave me pointers, and Reiner and Betholdt told me to keep calm and not to give up." He then turns to the male blonde seated next to him. "Isn't that right, buddy?"

Armin’s lips quirk upwards. “It’s true that you got help, but all the work was you.”

“Armin’s right.” Reiner’s deep voice resounds from one side of the crowd. To his left, Bertholdt silently watches the interactions with a small smile. “At the end of the day, you were the one ultimately responsible for your success.”

Jean watches as more trainees give the brunette praises for his resolve and performance. It isn’t until he feels something nudge him in the side that he turns away.

“Just talk to him already.” Marco urges with a knowing look.

Jean scoffs at the comment. “Talk to Yeager? About what?”

Marco simply gives him a half-amused and half-exasperated smile. “You know what I mean.” He then picks up his glass of water. “It’s good that you want to apologize. It’s a mature thing to do.” He says before taking a drink.

Jean grumbles something unintelligible as he observes the sky through an open window. The last rays of sunlight are starting to fade behind the darkening sky. He can see some of their Commandant's assistant officers patrolling the grounds and inspecting the outdoor training equipment to ensure they're still working properly.

As his gaze lands on the row of 3DM gear simulators, Jean recalls how he, along with nearly everyone, laughed at Eren when he failed to steady himself using 3DM gear during his first attempt. He also remembers snidely commenting that Yeager was just "all talk and no bite" and how he brushed him off when he asked for pointers to improve.

Jean then sighs before getting up and walking over to the green-eyed recruit’s table.

---

Armin and Eren were in the middle of speaking with fellow recruits when the blonde sees Jean walking up to their table.

“Uhh… Eren?” He taps his friend on the shoulder.

At the prodding, Eren turns away from Mina and Thomas, who were standing behind him. His eyes narrow at the sight of Jean standing behind the other recruits surrounding their table. “What do you want, horse face?”

The entire room goes silent as everyone turns to Jean. The man in question averts his gaze as his cheeks flush at suddenly being the center of attention.

He stays silent for a moment before speaking. “I’m not here to fight.” He then finally raises his gaze to look at Eren. The crowd parts as he moves closer to the table.

Armin notes the sudden tension in the air as his childhood best friend stares at Jean with a cautious look – he deduces that Eren is not entirely convinced that Kirstein came in peace.

Jean halts when he’s near the edge of their table, just a couple of feet from where Eren sits. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I’ll be honest. I still think that going after Titans is stupidly dangerous.”

Eren's eyes further narrow at the remark. He rises to his feet, but Armin pulls at his arm before he can move towards Jean. "Hear him out first.” The blonde half-pleads.

Eren frowns but nonetheless sits back down. His eyes are still trained on Kirstein, who instinctively took a step back at his abrupt movement.

Jean takes another breath before continuing. “But I now get how serious you are.” He admits, voice quiet but clear. “You have real resolve, and I respect that. And I’m…” He pauses, his pride momentarily stifling his next words.

“… I’m sorry for making fun of you before.”

Some trainees gasp lightly while some simply stare – all surprised at his gesture. Armin sees that even Connie and Sasha have paused their food-related grappling to gawk at Jean. The blonde also quietly muses that the entire room probably half-expected another fight to erupt between the two boys. All eyes are now trained on Eren, who looks astounded with his eyes widened and mouth slightly agape.

Armin then lightly nudges his friend’s shoulder. “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”

The question shakes the green-eyed trainee from his stupor. He blinks once before rising to stand – more calmly, Armin notes approvingly.

“Thanks, Jean.” The hardened look in his gaze is now gone. “I appreciate you saying that. Apology accepted.” He says with a small smile.

“And for what it’s worth…” Eren trails off as his eyes dart downwards, a hint of shame in them, “… I shouldn’t have scoffed at you for wanting to go into the Interior. After all, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be safe.”

He then looks directly at Jean again. “So, I guess I also owe you an apology.” He admits with a half-smile, hoping that it would lighten the mood.

It seems to have worked as Kirstein offers him a smile. “Glad to know that you can see things my way, Yeager.”

Eren grins more naturally at the response. “So… friends?” He asks, voice tentative as he holds out his hand.

Jean looks at the offered hand in surprise for a moment before observing the other boy’s expression. There’s a mix of uncertainty and apprehension in his countenance – possibly wary of how he would respond. But the look in Yeager’s eyes tells him that the offer of friendship is genuine.

He eventually grasps the hand offered to him. “Friends.” He says while giving it a firm shake.

There’s a smattering of applause as the crowd gives a slight cheer at the show of camaraderie. Armin especially claps heartily at the sight of the usually hot-headed Eren making peace with Jean even as he hears Connie yelp when Sasha takes advantage of the distraction to take a massive bite from the Springer boy’s loaf.

“Well, it’s nice that we’re all finally getting along.” Marco comments with a smile from the sidelines, hands still pressed together from clapping.

Jean sends a slightly annoyed look at Marco, who only continues to smile in return.

---

End Note: So, the 104th gang finally appears! Since Mikasa is a veteran in this story, I wanted to play a little with the dynamics of the 104th's relationships with one another. On this, I wanted Eren and Jean to have a friendlier relationship in this story than in canon. I hope that I was able to execute this idea (as well as all my other ideas) properly. Lol.

In any case, let me know what you think! Critiques and comments are most welcome!

#rivamika #levimika #levi x mikasa

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imekitty · 4 years ago

Text

Ghost on the Couch: Danny makes a deal with Maddie to attend eight sessions of therapy.

This is the first (unedited) chapter. Enjoy the preview!

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

Danny stared out the passenger side window and crossed his arms.

“You’ll like this therapist, Danny,” said Maddie as she drove through the rush hour traffic. “Dad and I met with him earlier today.”

Danny kept his body turned from her.

“He definitely knows what he’s doing,” continued Maddie. “You can just tell from talking to him. And he’s also got this full head of fluffy blond hair straight out of the eighties.” She sighed dreamily.

“Yes,” said Danny, still looking out the window. “Because good hair is so important in therapy.”

Maddie was quiet for some time. Danny tightened his folded arms against him.

“Danny, I know you’re unsure about this—”

“I’m not unsure. I definitely don’t want to do this.”

“I know. But I really think this could help you.”

Danny glanced at her with just his eyes before turning to face forward. “I just don’t understand,” he said, looking down at his lap. “Do you...think something’s wrong with me?”

“No, of course not, sweetheart.”

“Then why are you making me do this?”

“I just think you’re… You seem to be struggling. You seem stressed, overwhelmed. Especially since starting high school.”

“And is that abnormal to you? I mean, isn’t high school kind of difficult for everyone?”

“No. I mean, no, it’s not abnormal. It is normal. But… You didn’t use to…”

She frowned. Danny fidgeted, waiting for her to elaborate.

“What? I didn’t use to what?” he finally asked.

“All right, well, I guess I’ll just say it.” Maddie tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. “Your grades are terrible. You always look so tired no matter how early you go to bed or how many after-school naps you take. You’re often in your own world, distracted, distant. You go out a lot with your friends, but Dad and I usually don’t know exactly where you are, and you are always cutting curfew so close—”

“But I do make it back before curfew.”

“Not always. You’ve been late many times.”

“Yeah, like a few minutes, maybe.”

“Half an hour or an hour late is a few minutes to you?”

Danny sank back against his seat.

“Curfew is not a negotiable time, Danny,” said Maddie. “It’s a firm cut-off. And the time we expect you to be home each night is very reasonable.”

Danny shrugged.

“And school is definitely not negotiable. I get calls and reports about you being late or even skipping a class altogether. You’re lucky you haven’t been suspended yet.”

“I’ve been working on that.”

“It’s still not good enough.”

Danny scowled. Would anything he did ever be good enough?

“You’re also a lot more jumpy these days,” Maddie went on. “More nervous, more easily startled. And I thought it was Dash. I hoped it was Dash, that maybe that was why you would skip class sometimes. But even after talking to the principal and his parents about it, you’re still...like this.”

She glanced at him. Danny did not move his own gaze.

“And… You just… You don’t smile as often as you used to.” Maddie exhaled. “And I so miss your smile, sweetheart.”

Danny lowered his head and dug his nails into his arms still folded against him.

“Something is going on with you,” said Maddie softly. “I have no idea what, but you’re going through a hard time. Your teachers have noticed it, too. I get emails from them.” She paused. “Are you going to deny that you’re going through a hard time, Danny?”

Haunting memories, agonizing regret, terrifying thoughts, paralyzing fears, dark introspection, lonely isolation, hitting him all at once.

“No,” muttered Danny. “I can’t deny that.” He straightened. “But I can figure it out on my own. I don’t need therapy.”

“I’ve been letting you try to figure it out on your own for a year and a half now. You’ve only gotten worse, not better.” Maddie nodded definitively. “So we’re going to try something else now.”

He knew that tone. He knew that expression. And he knew her accusations were all sound and that he could never adequately argue against them.

“How often do I have to do this?” he asked in defeat.

“Every Monday.”

“Every Monday?”

“Yes.”

“Are you kidding me? I don’t want to do this every Monday!”

“I’m not giving you a choice, Danny.” Maddie pulled into a lot and parked facing a small two-story building. “I almost decided to have you go twice a week, you know.”

“Oh, well, how thoughtful.”

“Hey, watch that tone.” Maddie unbuckled her seatbelt and gave him a disapproving look.

Danny recoiled slightly. “Sorry,” he mumbled. He unbuckled his own belt. “But what makes you think this will even work?”

“I don’t know if it will work, but I think it’s important to try.”

Danny shook his head and moved to open his door but stopped when he noticed his mother was still in the car. He turned to find her staring at him pensively.

“Look.” Maddie sighed and held up her hands. “How about we just try this until school’s out for the summer? That would be a fair trial.”

“School won’t be out for like two months!”

“Danny, I’m offering you a deal here, okay? Can you just work with me, please?”

Danny thinned his lips and waited for her to continue.

“If by the time school is out you think therapy is not helpful and you really don’t want to continue, then I won’t make you go anymore.”

Danny considered this offer. With an ending in sight, maybe he could do this, especially if it would make her even just a little less disappointed with him.

“Okay,” he said simply. He pulled out his phone and began scrolling through his calendar.

Maddie brightened, then turned serious again. “But you have to give this a fair try. You have to be respectful and cooperate with the therapist. Otherwise the deal is off, and I’ll make you continue.”

“Fine, fine,” muttered Danny, still looking at his phone calendar. “But how about until the week before school ends? I mean, the last week is finals week. I need to study. I don’t want to be overwhelmed that week.”

Maddie narrowed her eyes and scrunched her mouth. “Right. You’re going to study,” she said with a sarcastic edge.

Danny gave her a sheepish look. “Well, I mean… That would make it an even eight sessions.”

Maddie exhaled loudly and opened her door. “Fine, okay. The week before school gets out.” She met Danny outside by the hood of her car. “But then you absolutely have to study that Monday finals week.”

“Sure thing.” Danny placed his phone in his pocket.

“Actually, let me have your phone.” Maddie held out a hand to him.

“What? Why?”

“You won’t be needing it for the next hour. I don’t want you to have any distractions.”

“Oh, come on. I promise I won’t use it.”

“Danny.” Stern. Her hand didn’t waver.

With a loud and irritated sigh, Danny pushed his phone into her hand. She put it in her purse and placed a hand on his back to lead him toward the building.

Danny cocked his head as he read the name above the door. “Wait, is this a pizza restaurant?”

Maddie chortled and gestured to a set of stairs nearby. “The therapy offices are on the second floor.”

Danny stared at the metal steps. Maddie prodded him forward and up. He gave in and allowed her to guide him.

Eight weeks. Eight sessions. Eight hours. He only had to do this eight times.

Manageable.

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

If you want to read more, let me know!

#danny phantom #danny fenton #maddie fenton #imekitty writes #ghost on the couch #fanfiction

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sahbibabe · 4 years ago

Note

May I request prompt number 94 from the smut list with Sephiroth?

Here you go! 4,800, almost 5,000 words of pure smut! I hope you enjoy! Tell me if you liked it or not and what I can improve on! ♡

Bright Eyes, Bright Hearts

Sephiroth x Fem! Reader

Smut Prompt #94: "Maybe I should get you a collar so you don't forget who you belong to."

You stared at your cellphone with narrowed eyes, furiously tugging at the loose band of your robe to tie it together in some semblance of a knot to keep it from flying open on the balcony. There had not been an hour that passed by when Biggs or Jessie had not called you to jump in on their Seventh Heaven parties, interrupting your 'me time'. First, it had been right in the middle of one of your amazing bubble baths, the ones that you paid good money for; second, Jessie had called you while you were doing your yoga for the day, messing up your pose sending you sprawling on the floor; third was when Biggs called, again, just as you were getting ready for a long night without your official-yet-unnofficial lover to satisfy your cravings yet again.

You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to be with Sephiroth, but you hadn't anticipated the toll it would take on your sex life. Sure, masturbation and self pleasure was good and all, but sometimes you just wanted him and nothing else, not to lay in your bed and notice the cold sheets every time you woke up.

He went on missions more and more every week, nearly every day, and rarely came home. If he did, he was too tired to do much more than give you a kiss and an apology. Whatever they put him through had drained that impressive SOLDIER stamina that you loved so much down to the barest dregs, even when you sometimes took things way too far for too long. The smugness you would see on his face when you struggled to walk the next day was all completely worth it.

"What do you want?" You answered the phone with a harsh, biting tone, tugging the sheer silk robe over your breasts when a harsh breeze blew by. The potted plants you had on your balcony waved as you took a seat at your coffee table, sitting in one of the cold metal seats that did nothing to douse your frustration. "You've called me three times now. I said no. That's the end of it, Biggs."

"Oh come on, [Name]!" He laughed on the other line, the sound of music and partying echoing over his voice. "You never come down here anymore. Are the slums too good for you now since you became a high and mighty Shinra executive?"

"That's not true and you fucking know it, Biggs." You never went back because you never had the time. And if you did, you didn't want to confront Tifa, who you had a petty disagreement with over your aspirations to live in Sector One, since your money made Avalanche soar. "Don't ever try to pull something like that on me. Ever. I grew up in the slums, same as everyone else."

"Sorry." It was Jessie's voice this time, apologetic and slurred. "Bigg's been drinking too much. I told him to stop, but he wouldn't listen. He's still hung up on that night you two had."

Your mouth thinned to a hard line. "Yeah, well, he needs to get over it. It was a mistake. Adrenaline, or whatever. Near death does that to you."

"Yeah. I know." She cleared her throat. "I'll let you go then! Do you want to say anything to anyone else before you go?"

You assumed you were on speaker, so you said,"Yeah, sure. Biggs? Go find a lay and quit bothering me. It's never going to happen again."

With that you hung up, tossing your phone on the table with a groan. You rubbed your face tiredly, watching as the mako reactor began firing up and readying itself for shut down for the night as the sun lamps dimmed. It was nearly eight and if you wanted to get to work early, you would have to hit the hay pretty soon. Rufus had left you with enough paperwork to drown in, literally and figuratively. If you didn't know the man like you did, you would have thought he hated you, but it was the opposite; he quite trusted you with many things over his father's people, because you were, in a sense, one of Rufus's people, just like Tseng and Reno and Rude.

There had been a few times where Rufus had propositioned you─once at the Golden Saucer when you had dressed nicely for the charity event someone had been holding, and another time when you had been forced to use the communal bath house during a vacation to cool down. You had politely turned him down, usually because Sephiroth's eyes flashed through your mind, the way they narrowed and watched you as you came undone by your own hand. It didn't stop him from giving you appreciative glances, though, but you knew when to take a compliment.

You had intended to sit outside for a bit before going back in and facing an empty apartment, but found yourself picking up your phone and staring at Sephiroth's contact name pensively. If he was busy, he wouldn't answer you, and you would be disappointed; if he wasn't, he would answer and be home right as he finished up his mission to give you a "gift", which was usually mind blowing sex and really nice aftercare.

Did you love him? Yes. Of course you did. But you wouldn't risk saying that to him and risking your entire relationship, of which had been founded on a very shaky foundation of trust and tentative friendship. It had been years since you had first agreed to your arrangement, and now you were wanting something more from him. He had never mentioned how far this would go between the two of you, had probably expected you to be a one time fling and vanish into the night. But you hadn't, and you had been with him for over five years now. Five. Sometimes you had to wonder if he was just amusing your carnal appetites or if he did it because he appreciated you as a whole.

Before you could hit call, the very voice you had been desiring to hear spoke.

"Maybe I should get you a collar to remind you who you belong to." Sephiroth leaned against the far end of the balcony, dressed in his full leather armor and his mako green eyes gleaming mischievously. "Since you seem to have all the men from Sectors One to Seven wanting you in their bed."

"Please," you laughed, a pleasurable jolt running up your belly at the suggestion. You got to your feet and sauntered over to him, noting the way his eyes followed the curves of your body underneath the sheer silk robe, just barely visible to the naked eye. "They may want me, but the only person I want right now is you."

"Is that so?" He hummed, allowing you to trace your fingers up the exposed part of his chest to unhook the leather straps from his pauldrons. "That sounds like it's subject to change."

You leaned up, smothering your chuckle into a kiss upon the hollow of his throat. "Only if you want it to be. Pauldrons off, SOLDIER boy."

"As you command," he purred, that sensuous voice hitting places in your core that you had to stifle a small moan. The pauldrons dropped to the balcony floor. "Does the lady have any more demands?"

"Mm… Lean down," you commanded in your sternest voice. It was one you had perfected over the years, one that made even Rufus Shinra tremble in his boots, though that had probably been arousal and little to do with fear. "Please," you added as an afterthought.

He leaned down to your height, which was somewhat of a discrepancy that you didn't mind. You cupped his chin in your hand and rose to your toes, pressing your lips to his in a deep kiss. Before he could move to kiss you back, you retreated with a sly smile, hands pressed firmly to his chest.

"Welcome home," you whispered, watching his face soften and those cat-like pupils widen just a bit. You decided to push it, to be a little more honest. "I missed you."

He sighed and jerked you close, burying his face in the curve of your neck. You put your arousal on the back burner for this tender moment, if only for a few seconds, relishing in the feel of your breasts against the hard leather of his armor and your hips brushing the leather belt slung around his waist. "It has been a long few days, hasn't it?"

Your eyes fluttered shut when he punctuated his words with little kisses to your neck, his teeth scraping against your pulse, followed by a quick slash of his tongue to soothe the sting.

"That it has," you breathed into his ear, kissing the skin just below it. A little more honesty, then. "It's torturous waking up without you."

"I know." Hands went to your waist, sliding up from the sides of your thighs to press you more firmly against him, his arousal prominent against the skin of your pelvis. "When we are apart, all I dream of is you. Your scent. Your touch."

You sucked your lip into your mouth, biting down when rolled his hips into yours with a smooth motion. You had never had him initiate things like this; usually he would just tell you, order you around. It aroused you when he did, but this felt intimate on a completely new level, one you weren't sure how to navigate with him yet. You could feel yourself growing wetter, the apex of your thighs growing slick.

"I didn't know that," you said, your breath stuttering out from your lungs when one particularly deep roll nudged his bulge right where you wanted it most, the leather an exciting texture against the silk rubbing against your hood.

He deftly untied the knot you had put awkwardly in place, letting the silk part and expose a slit of your body, all the way from your collarbone to your slickened core, his eyes following the skin like a curtain opening to reveal the main act. "Now you do. Lean back."

You removed your face from his neck where you had been placing artful hickeys, eyes heavy as he dragged the silk robe from your shoulders to leave you completely bare to him. Not an inch of you was covered. If anyone looked off of their balconies, or even through the window, they would see you as naked as the day you were born. It excited you.

Sephiroth was not a fan of exhibitionism, however, and preferred to fuck you in the privacy of your own home or his, where he didn't have to worry about someone snapping a picture of him and posting it to the local tabloids.

He picked you up by the waist, those mako enhanced muscles rippling between your thighs as you locked your legs around his hips. He squeezed a giggle out of you when his fingers ghosted across your ribs where you were particularly ticklish, your mouth pressed firmly to the flesh of his collarbone to bury it in your throat.

Sephiroth seemed to be in no rush, shutting the balcony door behind him and walking to your room at a leisurely pace. You had divested him of his leather coat and straps and belt by the time you reached the hallway, your nimble fingers working quickly to get him as naked as you were, and to hopefully not make as much of fuss when you were on the bed.

As you struggled with the button on his pants, pressing kisses to his neck and all the way to his lips, where he trapped you, capturing your lip between his teeth and nibbling it hard enough that it stung, he opened the door to your room and slammed it shut.

"There," you chortled when the button flew apart under the pressure of his erection, your glee smothered by his tongue seeking entrance into your mouth. A moan escaped when he dropped you on the bed, pressing himself flush against you, stepping out of his pants.

He parted from your kiss and leaned towards your ear, his hand sneaking down the length of your stomach, darting past your navel and sliding between the wet lips of your cunt. Your gasp was strangled as he held his free finger over your mouth. "Let's play a game, shall we?"

"What kind of game?" You whispered, heart caught in your lungs as he gently stroked the hot heat between your legs like a patient predator. He rarely, if ever, played games with you because he was so tired by the end of it, or just wanted to be inside you as deeply as you would let him without the foreplay.

"The quiet game." He bit the shell of your ear, rolling it gently between his teeth. "There's a nosy pest standing right outside your apartment door. You don't want him to hear and sell your audio to the black market dealer who pays him the highest gil, do you?"

Sephiroth smirked into your neck when your pussy squeezed close around his fingers in panic. He could feel the flutter of your heartbeat beneath his chest, right above the hard pebbles of your nipples that just begged for his attention, the hot laving of his mouth.

"No," you whispered, your mind going blank when he managed to squeeze a finger past the impossibly tight ring of flesh, stroking your walls with the pad of his thumb. There was the possibility that your room was bugged, as well; who knew if he was listening right now? "Definitely not."

"Good." He pressed a kiss to your cheek and simultaneously shoved another finger in you. You had to smother your face into a pillow by your head, groaning into the cotton with an open mouth. "Feel free to bite me if you can't take it. I'll be torturing you for a while."

While the promise of his brand of torture and 'a while' sounded absolutely amazing, you didn't know how long you could go without letting out an audible noise into the open air. Sephiroth knew how you ticked, knew how to wrangle the most wretched sounds from you with his fingers and mouth, knew how to find your g-spot with just the right stroke that had you screaming his name.

"Rules?" You gasped, wiggling your hips when he removed his fingers from you, desperate to have that friction again. He moved his soiled fingers to your mouth, parted your lips with his thumb. You took it between your teeth, grazing it with your tongue, your heartbeat pounding in time with the pulse in your inner walls. You tasted yourself on him, faintly mild and salty.

He watched as you ran your tongue over his thumb in much the same way that you would his cock, giving little tugs with your tongue or cheeks. "Don't make a sound. Don't try to scream. You can breathe, but that will be hard for you, anyways."

When he removed his thumb from your mouth, you nodded slightly, licking your lips free of your fluids. He smirked and leaned down again, swiping his tongue over your mouth as he kissed you, taking in the dregs that you hadn't gotten completely. "Good girl. Now be a good pet and take me in your mouth."

You sat up when he removed himself from you, tugging off the huggers that kept the leather pants from chafing him too much as he fought. He sprung free, swollen and engorged, precum leaking from the tip tauntingly.

You lowered yourself to your knees, snatching a pillow that had fallen from the bed and settling it under your knees. Sephiroth was bad on your knees, especially when his stamina was up, and you had been to therapy once or twice to help with the sprains he gave you.

When you glanced up, he was looking down at you, those gorgeous eyes narrowed to slits. Whenever you did this for him, he always made you feel like you were the prey and he the predator, his fingers closing around the back of your head to play with the hair there.

"Go on," he said, using his free hand to rub his thumb against your swollen lips. He tilted his head towards the door, hearing something you couldn't. "Take it."

You reached up and took him into a firm grip with your palm. You could have wrapped it around your fist, if you wanted, but it was so engorged and hard that you couldn't resist leaning forward and taking the tip into your mouth for a taste.

Sephiroth blew out a hard breath through his nose, his hips moving forward shallowly to thrust his cock further into your mouth. You didn't let him, though, moving your head back and stroking your thumb over the veins underneath. You reached up and balanced your hand on his hip, feeling the muscles beneath work and flex.

"[Name]..." he whispered, his hand fisting in your hair tight enough to sting. You released him from your mouth with a quiet pop, running your thumb over his head to evenly spread out the beads of precum leaking from him. "Damn."

You hollowed out your cheeks in preparation, swallowing all of your spit so you wouldn't choke when he deep throated you like he was wont to do. You pressed your lips to his cockhead, firmly, parting them and engulfing the swollen tip in your mouth. You stroked the rest of the length you hadn't taken, moving your other hand to cup his balls and squeeze firmly. Precum dripped onto your tongue, salty and sweet.

He dropped his head back, fist tightening in your hair as you took in inch by inch, pushing you further and further to the hilt. He hit your gag reflex earlier than you intended so you squeezed your thumb into a fist, eyes watering when he pushed past your uvula to sit firmly at your throat. You repeated this several times, thoroughly coating his length with saliva and his precum, until your lips and nose touched the skin and hair just above.

You were thankful that you had finished preparing yourself because the moment you returned back to his head, lips wrapped around him like a vice, he thrust into your mouth, going farther down your throat with the aid of his hand at the back of your head. Tears spilled down your face, more water than salt every time he hit the back of your throat. You always managed to avoid using teeth somehow, keeping his length between your cheeks and tongue even when he continued thrusting into you at a pace that could have broken your neck if you weren't careful.

He finished in your mouth, right in the midst of another hard thrust, the quickest release you had gotten from him yet. You swallowed around him, trying your damndest not to choke, and he whispered sweet praises to you, clearly playing the game by his own rules.

"Such a good girl for me," he said, wiping the tears from your cheeks when you allowed his cock to fall from your mouth. He was already at half mast, growing steadily harder, which meant he hadn't been put through the wringer on his mission. He pulled you up delicately and gave you a long, sweet kiss that was unusual for him--usually he just skipped right ahead to ploughing you like an animal. "Thank you."

Your heart was beating miles a minute as he lowered you to your bed once again, parting your legs and kneeling between them, slinging your calves along his shoulders. He had never thanked you before, not like that; you felt like a flustered school girl all over again and you weren't sure how to take it.

When he pressed his mouth to your pussy, tongue twisting past your entrance, all embarassment left you. Your hands flew to his hair, tangling in the long, luxuriously soft lengths, forcing him down on you.

He kept his lips solitary, smoothing his hands over the insides of your thighs and inserting his thumbs into you, pulling you farther open for him. His index finger moved up, pushing your clitoral hood up to expose the bundle of raw nerves there, and when he pressed down firmly, you saw little lights. You bit the pillow beside you and bucked into his face, hiding your keening whine into the cotton.

Sephiroth heard it, felt it vibrate through you, and got to work, sucking and nipping and licking you until all you knew was him. He rolled that little nub just right and you came undone, releasing onto his mouth. He drank it up with relish, tongue coated in your juices, and made a slow climb up your body, kissing the lips of your cunt and moving higher all the while, before paying attention to your sore, hard breasts.

Anyone else would have taken at least fifteen minutes to get you off so spectacularly as that. Anyone but Sephiroth, Biggs being proof of that. It was just that difficult for you.

Your nipples wet now and cold to the exposed air, Sephiroth moved up to claim your lips in a kiss, slanting his mouth over yours. You removed your hands from his hair and cupped his neck with one hand, his face with the other, drowning in the unusual affection he was giving you, offering you.

His cock, heavy and hard against your thigh, was hard to ignore as he continued to kiss you, swiping his tongue across yours with the gentlest of touches. He bucked his hips shallowly against you, rocking to a smooth and deep rhythm that you knew he would be replicating inside you soon enough.

When he finally parted from you, you were gasping for breath, breasts heaving with every inhale you took. He watched you for a moment, taking in the flush of your cheeks and shine in your eyes, full of love even if you didn't notice it yourself.

"On your stomach," he whispered softly, rolling you onto your belly. You obeyed, hiking your hips up and spreading your knees apart just so, so that he could see your wetness, see the pink of your pussy blooming for him. "That's a good pet, [Name]."

You trembled at the sound of your name, lowering your chest to the bed to give you leverage and squeezing the pillow between your hands in case you needed to scream, which you would. This position nearly always made you scream in some form.

He trailed his fingers teasingly down your spine, tracing each invisible vertebrae, before taking a firm hold of your hip with one hand. Between your legs, you watched him take himself in his hand and guide his cockhead to your entrance. He coated it in your weeping slick, dragging it up and down the seam of your pussy, before pushing inside by just the barest of inches.

You gasped into the pillow, taking it between your teeth. You reached a trembling hand down to your nether lips, to feel the smooth velvet of him sliding into you, a perfectly snug fit. You let out a pleased sigh when his hips slotted firmly into you, filling you up with his length. He leaned over you, careful not to pull out, and gathered you into his arms.

With an ease you were shocked by, he rolled you back into his lap in an odd rendition of a reverse cowgirl, just sitting, and kept his arms firm around your hips to keep him pinned within you. You leaned back carefully, shoulders touching his chest, and reached up to wrap your arm around his neck, fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of his neck.

He nudged your hair away from your face and kissed you, this time more sweetly than you had thought possible, thrusting up into you at the same time. Without your pillow you gasped into his mouth, spine tingling pleasantly, and he devoured it, continuing his shallow thrusts until he got too impatient, his eyebrows furrowed as his erection became painful to maintain inside of you.

Sephiroth lifted you and slammed you back down, hard enough that a scream nearly got out. You bit down into your own fist, breathing hard, breath halting every time he thrust back into you. Even though the position was killing your back, you powered through it, nearly to tears as he kissed your neck and shoulder. Good tears, you realized as he began reaching his peak, abandoning the smooth and hard thrusts for something much more frantic that was hitting much more than your g-spot by then.

You were unable to smother your cries and his hand went up around your throat, squeezing just slightly at your windpipe to put pressure on it. He had never choked you or made you black out, but made it just a little hard to breathe that you trusted him enough to do it to you. You would never let anyone else do it. Ever.

He released inside you, hot cum filling your insides and warming you all over. You felt him go flaccid, the beast sated, but he did not pull out of you. Instead, he carefully rotated your body to make you straddle him, allowing you to rest your hot cheek on his sweaty shoulder.

"Are you okay?" He asked, which was the same as asking,'Did I go too far?'

"I'm perfect," you sighed lovingly, squeezing your arms around his neck slightly. "I love you."

You didn't even have a chance to stiffen up and apologize when he buried his face in your hair and mumbled,"I love you, too."

You felt little tears of joy slip from your eyes.

He carefully allowed the both of you to lay down on the bed, keeping you on top of him as he fumbled for one of the sheets to stave off the cold that was kicking up from your AC.

You laid there for quite some time, the both of you, exchanging quick pecks or long, slow kisses that never led anywhere. He traced the hickeys he had left on your neck, the bruises from his grip on your hip, and nuzzled your throat, silently apologizing to the ring of fingerprints that gave a new meaning to the phrase 'put a collar on you'.

BONUS: Aftercare!

When the sun had risen and you had sluggishly called in sick, Sephiroth finally parted from you to allow you privacy on your call and retrieved lotion from your bathroom to help the bruises, as well as a cold cloth to help with the rawness you would be feeling as soon as you got up to walk.

When he returned, you were sat up in bed, awkwardly holding a pillow between your legs and saying goodbye to no other than Rufus Shinra as he shut the door with a quiet snick.

You gave him that dazzling smile when he approached, mouthing 'thank you' as he eased the pillow from between your legs. Rufus finally hung up after wishing you well and you checked twice before tossing your phone on the nightstand. You parted your thighs for him willingly, sighing at the feel of the cool rag against your raw, feverish skin.

"He bought it," you said, grinning as he gave you a quick kiss. "It probably helped that I'm hoarse."

Sephiroth gave you a sly wink. "It's a good look on you."

"Oh, stop it," you teased, slapping his shoulder playfully. He left the cold rag between your legs, letting it sit, and rubbed lotion into the fingerprints on your throat. "That feels nice. This is nice."

"Mm." When he was satisfied the lotion had absorbed into your skin, he moved to the hickeys on your neck. "We should do it more often."

You sent a silent shout to the gods, thankful you hadn't scared him away with your confession.

"Definitely." You sagged against the headboard and watched the sun peek over the buildings of Midgar. "Say, whatever happeend to that tabloid guy? The one outside the door?"

"Him?" Sephiroth shrugged and rubbed some into your breast next. "He was gone before I even got you out of your robe."

Your mouth dropped open. "Sephiroth!"

"What? I felt that if you had stakes, you would really try."

"Ugh, I hate you! I could have been as loud as I wanted."

He smiled--the most genuine one you had ever seen besides grins and smirks--and nosed your forehead. "No, you don't. You love me."

You deflated and smiled too, giving him a gentle kiss on the lips. "That I do. That I very well do."

#sephiroth x reader #final fantasy #final fantasy 7 remake #final fantasy vii remake #smut #consensual #consent

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bitcme · 3 years ago

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justice smith, bisexual, male + he/him ― hey look, it's patrick webb! they're twenty-six years old, they've lived in shrike heights for eight months, and they're currently working at radio shack. i heard they're pretty withdrawn, but i think they're so cautious at the same time. can they make it out alive? || penned by oli, twenty-four, they/them.

content warnings include death, parental death and anxiety briefly described throughout the entire backstory.

THE BASICS

Full Name: Patrick Edward Webb

Nicknames: -

Age: 26

Date of Birth: September 30, 1961

Zodiac: Libra

Hometown: Lake Placid, New York

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Orientation: Bisexual

Occupation: Clerk and handyman at RadioShack

Positive Traits: Analytical, calm, cautious, gentle, handy, helpful, merciful, pensive, philosophical, skilful, studious.

Negative Traits: Antisocial, cowardly, disorganized, evasive, flaky, indecisive, insecure, nervous, self-destructive, timid.

Family: Barbara Webb (mother) Edward Webb (father, now deceased). One younger sister and one younger brother.

THE STORY

Patrick’s early life was regular and desirable to most. He and his two younger siblings lived in the suburbs with their two parents who gave them all of the support and guidance they needed. Though Patrick was reserved by nature he had no issue going through school or fulfilling duties as the oldest siblings due to how nurturing and helpful their parents were.

It wasn’t a flawless life though it was a good one and Patrick had little to complain about. Most of his time was divided between spending time with his friends and helping his father at the shop he owned working as a mechanic. Patrick learnt through his time working there with his father that he had natural skill and talent in the field.

It was decided that Patrick would take over the shop once his father was ready to stand down from his position. While going through school Patrick worked there in preparation for his future career. It was through this job and his studies that he found his passion and learnt that he wanted to do more than work for his father or eventually one day own the shop.

Patrick wanted to become an engineer. It was a difficult conversation to have with his father but once he worked up the courage to talk to his parents he received their support. A couple years after graduating high school Patrick was going to college in the city of New York to become an engineer as he hoped, however just before he left for college his father unexpectedly passed in a shop accident.

Originally Patrick planned to withdraw from college and take over his father’s shop as he had wanted him to. It was Patrick’s mother that encouraged him to give college a go as she assured him his father would want him to make him proud by being more than what he could be. Patrick followed the advice and arrived at college only slightly late after beginning to work through his grief.

Patrick would have found college overwhelming even if he didn’t arrive late and after the death of a loved one. Immediately he was behind, confused and struggling. He wanted to leave almost as soon as he arrived but had unexpectedly arrived with all of the pressure of having to make his father proud. Being in a new environment that was a busy city was hard enough for someone so reserved and used to routine but the addition of complex school work and working through grief and pressure and so much anxiety made it impossible for Patrick.

One year into his classes Patrick withdrew from college. He didn’t tell his family out of shame and instead of returning home as he wished to so badly he remained in New York City for the entire five years that it would have taken to complete the degree. Patrick worked server jobs until it was time to return home and during that time he created his plan to return home and tell his family he wished to work at his father’s business again instead of using his degree. His plan would have worked fine if he didn’t return home to find his mother had to sell the business the winter just gone.

After getting stuck in his hometown with no job, no plan and more shame and anxiety than what he knew what to do with Patrick quickly left again. This time he moved to a town he believed was much more his pace. Shrike Heights Colorado was a town he had heard about through a friend and while it was a long way from home Patrick felt the change of pace and the distance from his family was what was needed.

#PATRICK WEBB. intro #shrikeintro

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kirah69 · 3 years ago

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Hills Animal Home [Petopher]

Day 3: "Stop coming back"

For the @petopher-events

Tags: pre-slash, animal shelter, mentions of covid-19

[It's not betaed so if you find any mistake, let me know]

[AO3 link]

Hills Animal Home

The Hills Animal Home was an animal shelter that had opened at the beginning of the pandemic. Many pet owners abandoned their animals with the stupid idea that they could get infected by them. The shelter saved them from almost certain death. The place was big, it was on the outskirts of Beacon Hills, bordering to other two towns. The main building had space for a veterinary clinic with an operating room and spacious rooms for sick animals. Behind the building there were several square yards divided in areas for cats, dogs and other animals. There were big kennels for them to sleep outside if they so wanted and also closed huts with beds if it was cold outside. There were also large play areas with little trees to climb for the cats and lots of toys to play for the dogs. And everything was clean and cared for thanks to all the workers there. They did not receive any help from the State or the County, but it was rumored that the owner was some millionaire animal lover.

Chris hadn't paid much attention to it, but as the pandemic dragged on and things in Beacon Hills had settled down, he felt lonely and bored. He had had dogs when he was younger. Well, they were hunting dogs, and he wasn't allowed to treat them with love like any other family would do. He wanted to do it right this time.

He went to Hills Animal Home early on a weekday, when he was less likely to meet other people there. He put on his mask before getting out of the car. There was a woman in her seventies at the reception desk, her white hair in a bun and dressed in a striking pink flower shirt. She gave him a big smile as he approached the counter, or that was what he thought giving that he couldn't see her face behind the mask.

“Welcome! What can I do for you?” she asked.

“I want to buy a dog.”

“Adopt.”

“Huh?” Chris frowned.

“We don't sell dogs, we have them up for adoption,” she explained. “Would you like to adopt a dog?”

“Yes, I... I want to adopt a dog, please.”

He suspected they would charge him some money later with whatever excuse, but he already intended to pay so he didn't care. The woman called someone through an intercom, and another woman appeared. This one was a bit younger but not by much. She was wearing a skirt suit and had a folder in her hand.

“Hello, I'm Miranda. And you are...”

“Argent. Chris Argent.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she said with a little bow without even holding out her hand. Chris had to consciously refrain from doing so. “Come with me, I have some questions for you before we consider you qualified for adoption.”

Chris opened his mouth and closed it again. What was she talking about? He only wanted a dog.

As he learned in the following minutes, it wasn't that easy. Not here at least. These dogs had suffered a lot from the abandonment and even abuse, and they had no intention of handing them over to the first guy who walked through the door. She asked him a lot of questions about his daily life, about his house, his job, his previous pets, his family... He commented that it was a bit invasive (even more than a job interview), and Miranda told him that he was not obliged to answer, but then he would leave without a dog.

It seemed that his answers were satisfying enough, and he was allowed to go see the dogs. What he didn't expect was to find Peter Hale there. He was dressed in casual clothes (more casual than Chris had ever seen him) and was playing with the dogs. There was at least eight of them jumping around him while others ran after the balls he threw at them. He had a big smile on his face. A real smile. Chris had never seen him like that.

When Peter felt someone approaching, he took a mask out of his pocket and put it on. It was strange since Chris was pretty sure that werewolves couldn't get infected. Then Peter realized who he was and stood still. As if following his lead, all the dogs stopped jumping and running and looked toward Chris.

“To what do I owe this visit?” he asked coming closer.

“Mr. Argent is qualified for adoption,” Miranda said, handing Peter a clipboard.

“Thank you, Miranda,” Peter nodded and took the clipboard without taking his eyes from Chris. “You can go back inside.”

“Okay. Good luck, Mr. Hale,” she said and left.

Chris wasn't sure why he needed luck, but he nodded anyway.

“So you came to adopt a dog,” Peter said. It wasn't a question. He took a look at Miranda's report and left it on a table full of toys and treats.

“Do I get to choose?” Chris asked and wasn't surprised by Peter's answer.

“Of course not,” he said with a snort. “You only get to choose if you want a small one or a big one.”

“I don't really care, but I have enough space for a big one.”

“Good. Get one of those and play with them,” Peter said, pointing to the toys on the table.

Chris didn't know why, but he just took one of the knotted ropes and followed Peter to a more open area. The dogs relaxed as soon as Peter did and some of them came to Chris and started playing with him. Peter played with them too, and the man looked the most relaxed Chris had ever seen him, even if the 'wolf kept an eye on him all the time. He looked almost... happy?

Chris wasn't sure how long they were there and for what exactly, but he was having fun so he didn't mind. At some point, Peter walked up to him and with just a couple of gestures, all the dogs turned away except for one. It was dark brown, and Chris couldn't guess what breed, probably a mixed-breed, but he didn't care.

“This is Burger,” Peter said, petting its head. “I think he'll be perfect for you.”

“Burger,” Chris repeated arching an eyebrow. “Can I change his name?”

“No. And you can't turn him into a hunting dog either. I'll make sure of it,” Peter said with a clear threat in his voice.

“I won't. I don't work like that anymore,” Chris answered truthfully.

Peter looked at him, and maybe he was satisfied with his steady heartbeat because he just nodded.

“Let's go to my office.”

The three of them went back into the building and got into a small office with windows to the back yard. Peter sat behind the desk and Chris in front of him with Burger at his feet.

“You're the owner of this place, right?” Chris asked while Peter took out some documents.

“What gave it away?” Peter said sarcastic.

“Why?” That was what he had been wondering from minute one.

Peter shrugged.

“Because I can.”

“A lot of people could, but you did it. Why?”

Peter left some papers in front of him and leaned back in the chair with a pensive expression. He probably wasn't thinking of his reasons for opening an animal shelter, but if he should tell him.

“Cora left, Derek left, most of the McCall pack has left, including the alpha. And now this fucking pandemic and the first thing people do is abandon their pets as if they were not part of the family. The same assholes that refuse to wear a mask,” Peter said almost with a growl.

Pack. That was what this was for Peter, a pack. He was there for the same reason as Chris, he felt lonely.

“Why do you wear it, a mask?” Chris asked curiously while he started to fill the papers.

Peter seemed grateful for the change of subject.

“I may not get sick, but I don't know if I can carry it and infect others. Although it's mostly as an example for my workers.”

“I didn't think you were so aware.”

Chris signed the papers and gave them back. Peter was looking at him with narrowed eyes.

“You don't know me at all, Argent.” Peter got up and went to the office door. “Take care of him, let us know if you need anything and don't forget about the vaccines. You can vaccinate him here or at your own vet,” he said almost like a robot.

Chris hooked Burger to a new leash and left the office with him. Peter disappeared through a door, and Chris took his new dog home.

Not even three weeks later, Chris was back at the Hills Animal Home. Again in the morning of a weekday. Peter appeared immediately at the reception desk with an angry look.

“If you're here to return him-.”

“No, no, Burger is wonderful,” Chris hurried to say. “He's quickly adapted to the house and is a fantastic boy.”

“I'm glad. Why are you here then?” Peter relaxed a bit and rounded the desk towards him.

“I thought... Maybe Burger would feel better with a friend.”

Yeah, that's why he was there, there was no other reason. Right.

“Well, dogs are pack animals so yes, I think it'd be a good idea. Beside, you have the means to take care of both.”

Peter gestured for Chris to follow him, and they went to the dogs enclosure.

“Should I take Burger too,” Chris asked at the door.

“Of course, it's gonna be his companion after all.”

And just like that, they spent a couple of hours playing with the dogs. Peter laughed, he really laughed even if Chris could not see it with the mask, but the sound of it was... The dogs, he had to focus on the dogs. Yeah, he was there for the dogs. Fuck.

Chris left the shelter with a golden retriever with only three legs that jumped higher than any other dog. His name was Nigel. And no, he couldn't change it.

“Stop coming back!” Peter almost whined when Chris returned to the shelter two weeks later. “You're not getting another dog, two are enough for now!”

Chris opened his mouth and closed it again. Burger and Nigel were with him and greeted Peter cheerfully.

“I wasn't... I didn't want another... dog...” Okay, now he didn't have an excuse to be there.

“Then what?” Peter asked, crossing his arms. Chris' eyes went straight to his cleavage (you couldn't blame him). Why was he wearing a V-neck instead of casual clothes like the other days? And why did it have to be so wide? “Oh, I see.”

“What?” He was glad that the mask partially hid his face. Surely he had blushed (which was ridiculous for a man his age).

“You don't need to adopt a dog to get a date.”

“I-I don't-,” Chris stammered.

“I can smell it, Chris, even through the mask. Knowing you, you'd fill your house with dogs before you muster up the courage to ask me out,” Peter sighed, rolling his eyes.

He gave the dogs a treat and turned to the back door while Chris looked at him speechless.

“Pick me up at five!” he said before disappearing.

Well, he now had two dogs and a date. That was a lot more than what he had five weeks ago.

#Teen wolf #Petopher #chris argent #peter hale #fanfic #fanfiction #covid mention #covid19 #animals #dogs #pre slash #gay #yaoi #petopher events

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