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homoose · 5 years ago

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Weird is Good

Summary: A story about two people tryna make it through the age of COVID-19 in a country where people are fucking dumb lmao. My hc is that Spencer would be like wtf at all these science-denying anti-maskers. Also, two teachers just tryna make it through quarantine and remote teaching in a one bedroom apartment (this is taking place during a mandatory leave/lecture cycle).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: no warnings. reader is both a kindergarten teacher and a bruh girl with a pirate’s mouth. lots of Spencer x factz.

Word count: 3.1k

———

“We’re home for the next two weeks. ”

Spencer looked up from his desk to see Y/N kicking off her shoes, dropping her bag, and walking directly to the sink. “Starting when?”

“We get to go in on Monday to say goodbye to the kids and get any materials we might need. Then we’re home for two weeks. They’re calling it an early, extended spring break.” Y/N began her hand washing routine. As a kindergarten teacher, she’d always been a strict hand-washer. In the time of COVID, she had only become more zealous. She looked at Spencer. “Have you heard anything?”

“Since we’re so close to the end of the semester, the department head thinks they’ll try to finish out the year as normal.” He set down his pen. “I honestly don’t know. It will all depend on whether people follow the CDC guidelines. The spread of any virus is deducible mathematically, and SARS-COV2 is no different. Based on the outbreak in Italy prior to their lockdown, we can accurately describe its reproductive number, or Rt, to between 2.43 – 3.10.”

Y/N shut off the water and dried her hands on a paper towel. “In layman's terms, Dr. Reid.”

“The Rt tells how many people are infected by the contagious host,” he explained. “In the case of this strain, each infected person is infecting between two and three others. For comparison, the standard seasonal flu has an average Rt between 1.4 and 1.7.”

“So in other words, fucking yikes,” Y/N groaned. She moved to perch on the edge of Spencer’s desk.

“Indeed,” Spencer agreed. “We know how fast the flu can travel through an office or a classroom, so imagine if it was two times as transmissible. But it's also really important to understand that this number changes depending on the mitigations in place. Even prior to full lockdown, mask wearing and social distancing was somewhat common in Italy, so it’s likely the uncontrolled Rt is higher.”

“Jesus Christ.” Y/N scrubbed a hand over her face. “We’ll probably never go back.”

Spencer rubbed his hand up from her ankle to the inside of her knee. “The good news is there’s nothing special about this virus compared to others in terms of how it spreads— it’s just aerosols. So if everyone wears their mask, we’ll be able to keep the spread low.”

⧭⧭⧭

“It’s safe to say that everyone did not wear their fucking masks,” Y/N snapped. She watched from the couch as Mayor Bowser delivered the news that DC Public Schools would remain closed for the remainder of the year. “This is crazy. I mean, I knew it was coming because people in this country are absolute buffoons.” She looked at Spencer, fingers pressed to her temple. “But holy shit, are we ever going to be able to go outside again?”

“With schools and universities closed, people working remotely, and lockdown orders in place, the Rt in the US could stay low. But masks have to be worn at all times, and social distancing has to be strictly followed.” Spencer pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I just— I can’t believe people are refusing to wear masks. The empirical, peer-reviewed data clearly shows—”

“This is ‘Murica, boy.” Y/N mocked. “Ain’t no tyrannical government gonna tell me what to do!” She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, your choice to abstain from social media is paying dividends to your sanity right now.”

Spencer looked truly dumbfounded, setting his newspaper down in his lap. “But that’s just it. It’s not just in social media circles.” He gestured to the article in front of him. “This economist just argued for ‘reopening’ the economy using the justification of herd immunity. Herd immunity can be a plausible option for less lethal diseases. But this virus is not like varicella—the chickenpox,” he clarified at Y/N’s raised eyebrow. He waved his hands around in exasperation. “Putting aside the fact that one facet of herd immunity is vaccinating as many people as possible, its success completely hinges on the Rt of a disease. If you model a population based on an Rt of 2.5, herd immunity wouldn’t be achieved until approximately sixty percent of the population has been infected. Consider that the US population is currently 328 million, and sixty percent of that is 196.8 million. The current mortality rate for SARS-COV2 is 3.06 percent. 196,800,000 multiplied by 0.0306 is 6,022,080. Over six million people would die. It's simple mathematics.”

Y/N let out an exasperated breath. “It used to be that simple math and facts were enough. Now you’ve got basement scientists who think they know better than actual, literal scientists who’ve spent their entire lives studying these things.” She ran a hand over her face and gestured at the news conference still playing. “How long do you think it’ll be before we’re both trying to teach from this tiny ass living room?”

⧭⧭⧭

“Goooooooood morning, kindergarten! It’s Friday, and no Friday is a bad Friday!” Spencer smiled. As he poured his first cup of coffee, he hummed along with Y/N and 23 six-year-olds as they sang their morning song. Observing fourteen days of remote kindergarten from across the living room had given Spencer a new appreciation for elementary school teachers, particularly Y/N. She sang, danced, conducted science experiments, held puppet shows, read stories, led art projects, and fielded questions for four hours a day— three hours less than when they were in the school building. He was exhausted by proxy.

But he was also grateful for the opportunity to watch Y/N in her element. Even though they were at home, she still got dressed every day in bright, patterned sweaters and dresses— her Ms. Frizzle attire, she’d told him once. She was able to channel her personality into a kid-friendly version that her students clearly adored, never afraid to be silly or strange to get their attention and keep them engaged during the long days. He worked from home whenever possible, strangely happy to have the background noise of kindergarten over his quiet university office.

...

“Okay, but where do I put the biiiiiiiiiiiig number?” Y/N made a wide gesture with her arms. “Ariah, where should I put it? In the big box, yes! But oh no, my small number needs a friend. My three is soooooo lonely!” Y/N drew her mouth into a pout. “DJ, how can I help my three not be so sad? You’re absolutely right, let’s put that two right next to him in our number bond.”

…

“I’ve been waitin’ for a girl to mute,” Y/N sang into the gold karaoke mic. “I said, muuuuuuuuuute, I’m blinded by loud sounds. No, I can’t hear the friend who’s tryin’ to talk.”

…

“Oh boy. Kev, honey, we can— we can see you. Kevin, Kevin, Kevin. We can see all of you. I can’t turn your camera off, buddy. You gotta— there we go.”

…

“Mute please, I need— I need everybody to mute, please. Oh my goodness where is that music coming from?” Y/N frantically searched for her index card with the picture of the mute icon, as the sounds of a highly inappropriate song blared through the computer speaker. “I know it’s so loud, guys. Why is my mute power gone?! This is why we need to make sure we keep our mute button on, kindergarten.”

…

“No sweetie, it’s not time to log off yet. I’m sorry, I know it’s such a long day. We have about an hour left. Do you guys wanna do a countdown? It’s the fin-al count-down! Do-do doo dooooo. Do-do-d-do-dooo…”

…

“Annnnnd, I should see all my friends on mute. William, hang on just a second. All my friends need to look at my picture, it’s an oval with a line through it… Okay, William, what did you bring to show us?” Y/N leaned toward the computer screen. “Grandma Kathy? O-oh, she’s— she’s in the—“ Y/N’s eyes widened. “Is that— is that an urn? Oh wow. Um, well, wow. It’s beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing that with us, William. Grandma Kathy, may she rest in peace.”

⧭⧭⧭

A week into Y/N teaching kindergarten from their living room, the university had announced its transition to online coursework for the remainder of the academic year. Spencer had to host his first zoom lecture, and he was absolutely dreading it.

“Spence, it’s going to be fine. It’s not like you’ve never been on a video conference,” Y/N assured him. She sat cross-legged on the couch, waiting for him to let her in to his practice zoom.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t running those meetings. I just showed up.” He squinted at the computer screen. “Are you in?”

Y/N barely resisted the urge to make a joke, knowing that Spencer probably wouldn’t appreciate the innuendo. “No, you have to admit me.”

“What do you mean? How do I do that?”

“There should be a box with a button that says admit.”

Spencer gestured at the computer. “Well there’s a bunch of boxes— which one should I be looking at?”

Y/N sighed and got up from the couch. “IQ of 187 and can’t find the box.”

Spencer dragged a hand through his hair. “I know I shouldn’t find this so difficult. I’m sorry you have to waste your time on this.”

“Hey, it was a joke.” Y/N grabbed his hand from where he was frustratedly pulling on his frazzled curls. “I’m sorry. That was mean and you’re already stressed enough.” She used her free hand to smooth his hair back into place. She scrunched her nose. “I love you and your limited technology skills. And honestly it’s kind of nice to have one thing I can actually teach you about.” She squeezed his hand, leaning over him to peer at his computer screen. “All right, let’s find that elusive admit button.”

When the day of his lecture rolled around, Spencer thanked all the atoms in the observable universe that Y/N had a break during his class. Within the first ten minutes, he’d managed to accidentally kick himself out of his own meeting and then somehow lose track of the screenshare button.

“No one can see me and I don’t know what happened to the screenshare option. It was there and now it’s just… gone,” he told Y/N.

She leaned over his desk, eyes tracking over the screen and mouse clicking around the desktop. “How in the world did you manage to block your camera?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t even touch it!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand how it’s even possible to be this bad at this.”

Y/N bumped his knee with her own, pulling up his camera settings and preferences. “Relax. You can’t be good at everything. It’s a refreshing reminder that you’re a mere mortal like the rest of us.” With a few rapid clicks, Y/N unblocked his camera and located the screenshare bar. “There. Crisis averted. I’m just going to share your whole screen in case you want to toggle between application windows. So just be aware that they’ll be able to see everything. And then you just click here when you’re ready to stop sharing.”

When Y/N turned her head toward him to check that he understood, Spencer grabbed the side of her face and caught her lips in a kiss. Y/N smiled against his mouth, heart speeding up as he traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue.

“Um, Dr. Reid? Your um— your camera’s working now.”

Spencer nearly fell out of his chair, his cheeks about the color of the Leave Meeting icon. Y/N dropped her head, debating whether she wanted to laugh or let the earth open up and swallow her whole. She ultimately decided to compose herself, stepping back and giving a little wave to the sea of tiny, grinning zoom faces before slinking out of frame, miming sorry to one very mortified professor.

⧭⧭⧭

“Would you want to be our mystery reader next week?” Y/N asked, bookmarking the page of her novel and reclining back in bed. “You just have to pick a story to read. Oh, and think of four clues about your identity to give the kiddos.”

Spencer raised his eyebrow, continuing to read. “Any story?”

Y/N laughed. “Well they’re six, so maybe hold off on the Chaucer and Bradbury for now. A picture book would be preferable.”

“Did you know that the first picture book, Orbis Sensualium Pictus, or Visible World in Pictures, was published in 1658?” He looked up from his own book. “Czech educator John Amos Comenius wanted to create a book that would be accessible to children of all levels of ability. The educational theories he explored are actually still in practice in the field of early childhood education.” He turned toward her from his spot under the covers. “For example, when you have your students make a hissing sound and slither their arms when they produce the sound represented by the letter s? Comenius included an alphabet chart with various animal and human sounds representing each letter. He wanted to demonstrate that the incorporation of multiple senses could help increase learning.”

“I guess you don’t fix what isn’t broken,” Y/N mused. “300 years later, and we’re still using the same methods.”

“362, actually,” Spencer corrected.

She gave him a look. “Maybe we can save the Comenius for another time.”

“The genre of children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and philosophical story telling of all time.” Spencer returned his attention to his reading.

“...So is that a yes?”

Spencer smiled. “I’ve got a book in mind.”

“And clues,” Y/N reminded him, snuggling down under the covers and reopening her book. “We need some fun clues, mystery reader.”

…

“Kindergarten, we have a very special mystery reader this week. Oh man, are you ready for the first clue? The mystery reader loves jell-o! Raise your little hand if you love jell-o, too. Okay, kindergarten, I see you! Lots of jell-o lovers in the house.”

…

“Okay, clue number two! Our mystery reader works as a community helper— remember we learned about all different kinds of community helpers; firefighters, nurses, police officers. But if the mystery reader could be anything, they’d want to be a cowboy! How cool is that?”

...

“Clue number three for our mystery reader!” Y/N sucked in a gasp. “You guys. The mystery reader can do magic. Oh my goodness, I am so excited for Friday,” she sing-songed. “Will they show us a trick? Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe if you ask nicely.”

…

“Okay, my friends, the last clue. The mystery reader loves reading. They read every day, and they’ve been reading since 1983! Yes, that was a very long time ago.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Okay, any last guesses about who our mystery reader might be?” Y/N questioned.

“I think it’s your dad,” a little voice called out.

Spencer made a choking noise from where he sat, slightly off camera. Y/N laughed. “The mystery reader is decidedly not my dad, Keyshon. Remember I showed you guys the picture of him— my dad’s a farmer, so he’s kind of already a cowboy.” She clapped her hands together. “Okay, without further ado, drumroll please... Our mystery reader is…” Y/N pushed her desk chair out of frame to allow Spencer to roll in, holding her hands out. “Spencer!”

He gave a little wave, smoothing his hair, suddenly painfully self-aware and nervous about the opinions of two dozen six-year-olds. “Hi guys.”

“You’re the boy on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone.”

“Your hair is so fluffy!”

“Do you have a cowboy hat?”

“I like your sweater.”

“Can you really do magic?”

“What’s your favorite jell-o?”

“Whoa, okay, let’s remember our mute button,” Y/N, holding up her index card. “I promise you’ll get to ask Spencer all your questions after he reads the story.”

Spencer smiled at the excited faces beaming through the screen. “Yes, I’m on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone; I don’t own a cowboy hat, yet; yes, I really can do magic; and the red jell-o is my favorite.”

Y/N watched with interest as Spencer pulled out his book. He’d been secretive about his choice, so she was as curious as her students.

“This is one of my favorite stories. It’s written by Munro Leaf, and illustrated by Robert Lawson. It’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer held the cover up to the camera. “Ferdinand is the bull here on the cover. This story was written in 1935, which was a long time ago! Okay are you ready?” Spencer looked out on a sea of thumbs up, turning the page to the beginning of the story. “Once upon a time in Spain, there was a bull, and his name was Ferdinand.”

Y/N smiled as she listened to Spencer read each page, recounting the story of the peaceful bull. He was an excellent storyteller, changing the inflection and expression of his voice to match each sentence. He held each page up for just the right amount of time, panning it so her students could see each detail of the black and white pictures. He added his own wonderings and exclamations here and there, and her students were decidedly enthralled. Her heart ached at how comfortable he was, how natural this was for him. She rested her chin in her hand, trying to keep her mind in the present— ignoring the persistent little mental image of Spencer as a dad.

“So they had to take Ferdinand home. And for all I know, he is sitting there still, under his favorite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly. He is very happy… And that’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer closed the book with a soft smile. “I love this story. Ferdinand is a very special bull. What do you think makes him so special?”

“Ferdinand didn’t fight,” a little voice piped up.

“Yes!” Spencer agreed. “He practiced pacifism in the face of the persistent, ingrained militarism of his country’s culture.”

Y/N placed a hand on Spencer’s knee and gave a quick squeeze. “Right, Ferdinand chose not to fight, even though everybody else he knew wanted to.” Y/N winked at him before turning back to the screen full of kids. “All his friends thought he was kind of weird, but he just really wanted to hang out in the shade and smell the flowers, huh? Sounds pretty good to me.”

“He wasn’t bothered that the other bulls thought he was strange for wanting to be peaceful,” Spencer added. “Sometimes being different can be a good thing. The Story of Ferdinand reminds me that it’s okay to be yourself, even if other people think you’re weird.” His eyes met Y/N’s. “Because there will always be people who love and appreciate you for who you are.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminals minds self insert #dr spencer reid #professor spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #homoose writes

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sillyrabbit81 · 4 years ago

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The Instructor - Part 3

Summary: Agent Walker starts your training.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader

Word Count: approx 3.2k

Warnings: smut, oral sex (m receiving), rough, fluff?

Masterlist

Part 2 Part 4

Part 3

The plane trip to DC was largely uneventful, for which you were grateful. You didn’t exactly have a fear of flying, you were only scared of crashing. You handled your fear well, except during turbulence.

The flight was smooth, barring one pocket of turbulence. You gasped as the plane dropped in the air and your heart leapt in your chest and you gripped the armrests. Agent Walker was in deep concentration, reading from his laptop. Without taking his eyes off the screen he, uncurled your death grip with warm, gentle fingers, and placed your hand on his thigh before covering it with his. The plane dropped again and your nails dug into his hard muscles. You felt him tense under your touch, sucking in a breath between his teeth, and gave your hand a light squeeze.

You released your pressure on his leg after a few moments of calm air, and removed it altogether after a few minutes. Walker gave a small, dissatisfied grunt when you pulled your hand away. You put your hand back, slipping it under his and were rewarded with a content hum. You left your hand there until you landed.

Now, after disembarking the plane, not a word passes between you and Walker as you follow him out of the airport and into a waiting car. He doesn’t introduce you to the driver, so you follow his lead and stay quiet. You pull up to a standard apartment building in the city, surrounded by other nondescript apartments. You both get out and enter the building as the driver leaves. You shadow Walker into the elevator where he pressed the 9thfloor. The elevator pings as it arrives at the desired level and again you wordlessly follow Walker to an apartment door where he produces a key and lets you in.

He drops his bag on the dining table and you do the same. You stand awkwardly, waiting for him to speak. Is this the room where surveillance would be set up? Is this his room? Your room? Would you be sharing the space?

A door opens and a woman in her late thirties came out. Attractive, well dressed in stylish navy pants and jacket with a knitted sweater, she had the air of confidence you have come to associate with field agents. She looks you up and down, getting your measure, probing for weakness in the same way Walker had on that first day of training. Learning from your mistake, when she meets your eyes you hold her dominant gaze.

She must have approved because she smirks and asks Walker, “Is this Agent New Girl?”

Walker raises an eyebrow and tells her your name.

She scrunches her nose up and says, “I like New Girl better.” She sticks her hand out and says, “I’m Thomas.”

You force a smile and say, “Nice to meet you, Agent Thomas.”

She laughed as we shake hands and says, “Come on, New Girl. We have months of boring listening and watching to do, just call me Thomas.”

Walker picks up his bag, and looking at you he says, “I’m in 907.” He looks at his watch. He continues, completely deadpan, “You’re on duty from six am. Be at my room by four am for a thorough briefing before you start. I suggest you sleep, it’ll be a rough start if you don’t.”

Your façade crumbles at his words and you bite your lip to supress the moan coming from your throat. The first words directed at you in hours were orders laced in seduction, a suggestive reminder of the power he had over you, both professionally and personally. The subtle undertones of his speech, the words he wanted to say were: “Sleep, my pet. You will need it.”

Alone with Thomas, you school your features as you face her. She has a knowing smirk, and although you’re embarrassed, she is light hearted. “Don’t worry New Girl, he has that effect on everyone.”

You allow a giggle to pass your lips, you had to laugh, to ease the tension in your body. Then you stop, curious. With burning cheeks, you play up the New Girl persona and ask, “Should I be worried?” You emphasise your innocence, but hide your desire by asking, “Will he, you know, take advantage?”

Thomas burst with laughter. You look at your feet, hoping the modesty ruse works. “Nah, he’s not like that. He’s hot as fuck, but cold as ice.”

No, you wanted to tell her, he’s not cold. He’s warm, but has locked that part of himself down. You remember the burning kiss he gave you as you left your apartment, there was nothing cold in that. But you also remember the way he pulled away from your touch when your fingers sunk into his hair. No, he wasn’t cold, he was shut down.

“Well, that’s a relief,” you say to Thomas. “Where do I sleep?”

Your alarm wakes you at 3.30 am. You had slept but it was fitful. You woke several times, once so aroused you thought you may have gotten your period you were so wet with anticipation.

You shower, dress, before going to his room, and hope Walker will offer you a coffee at some stage. You knock on his door, and pray your knees don’t give out.

He answers the door in pyjama pants. You see his chest for the first time, and you can’t help staring. You knew he was impressively built, but somehow his finely tailored suits hid his true size. His chest was covered in dark curly hair, and you wanted to sink your fingers into his fur. Would it be soft or coarse? Would it tickle your nose as you kissed him there? Would he allow you kiss him?

His face doesn’t give anything away as he greets you simply with a nod and says, “Agent.” Standing aside from the door, he lets you in with a gruff, “You’re early.”

You mumble an apology, and hear the door close behind you as you enter his apartment. You stand with your head down, waiting. You feel Walker’s breath on your neck and register the heat from his body as he moves behind you. You don’t know how long you stand there, but you don’t move, you wait, wait for him to say something, do something, anything.

“Did you read all of the report I sent you?” He says into your ear. He is closer than you thought he was, his unshaven lip tickles the shell of your ear as he speaks.

“Yes,” you reply, breathless as Walkers body presses into yours. You feel his hand wrap possessively around your throat, lifting your head. His other hand comes over your shoulder, sliding down your chest and into the top of your shirt.

“That’s my good girl,” Walker praises you. “We will have more time for your training,” he says as he slips his huge hand into your bra, cupping your breasts, feeling their weight, digging his fingers into your soft flesh.

You’re confused by his words, you don’t need any more training, not for this case anyway. It was a simple surveillance with express orders not to engage. One of the simplest field assignments you could get. You’re about to ask why you would need training when you feel his lips brush your neck and hear him sniff at your skin and hair.

“I like the perfume you use,” he smells you again and you feel him press himself into your back. “Keep using it, I will add it to the rules.”

At first the words wash over you as you melt under his kisses and hands. His soft warm mouth plays with your neck while his rough hand grips your throat and kneads your breasts.

“Wait,” you try to say, your thoughts are dreamlike under his touch, you’re not sure if you understand him. “Training? Rules?” you mumble.

Walker grunts, “You’re mine, aren’t you, pet? My girl needs rules to know how to behave.” Walker’s hand on your throat tightens and he bites into your flesh, “You want to please me, don’t you?”

Your body shudders, your heart’s rhythm becomes a faltering mess. Fear and excitement grow in your gut. You nod frantically, your voice is unreliable, you don’t trust yourself not to beg for him. If just the implication of his dominance makes you feel this way, you can’t imagine what it would actually be like under his control, under his rules, under his instruction.

Walker lets you go and makes his way to his dining table where his coffee and breakfast is laid out. He sits, his legs spread wide on his chair, the flimsy material of his pants, leave nothing to the imagination as you see the outline of his nearly fully erect cock. He studies you a moment, and says, “Take your clothes off, leave your underwear, stockings and heels.”

Taken aback you bite your lip a moment, and Walker tutted at your hesitation. Not wanting to annoy him further you take off your jacket, button up shirt and skirt. “Good girl,” Walker’s smooth baritone crooned with a gentle roll of the r. Your body warms and heat fills your wet core, both from the praise and the way his eyes ravish you. Then he taps one of his knees. “Sit,” he orders. Not wanting to be admonished for hesitating you go to him and perch yourself on his thigh, your legs resting between his. He wraps an arm around your waist, bouncing you slightly on his knee while he pulls you close. His chest is warm against your naked arm and his curly hair is soft as it rubs against your skin. You want to snuggle into him, but you resist and sit up straight.

“Did you eat before you came to see me?” Walker asks. You shake your head. Once again, he is disappointed. “No more skipping meals pet, you need your strength.”

“Sorry, Walker,” you say. You hated disappointing him, it upset you in a way you couldn’t describe, like it wasn’t just that he wasn’t happy, it was that you wanted to make him happy and any time you didn’t made you feel inadequate.

“When we are alone, I am August or Sir,” he tells you. With a grin he says, “Daddy, if you’re being playful.”

“Yes, Sir,” you reply, your brows furrow in confusion. August and Sir you understood, but Daddy? Usually, Daddy was for a softer Dom, and you hadn’t expected that from him. You knew he had a warmth in him, but you didn’t realise he knew he had it too.

“Don’t let me fool you, pet. I won’t accept bratty behaviour, I enjoy giving punishment. But, do what I want and I can be generous.” He leans over his breakfast and cuts a piece of egg and bacon off and brings the fork to your lips. “Open,” he says.

August alternates between the two of you, feeding you a mouthful then himself. He shares his drink with you too, although you usually like cream in yours, you drink his black unsweetened coffee when he lifts the glass to your lips.

You’re surprised at how turned on you are by sharing this moment with him. It’s almost a glimpse into a life with him, a life where you lived together, had normal lives, maybe even married. You wanted none of those things before, but sitting on August’s knee, having him feed you, you wanted it.

When you were both finished, August glances at his watch. His lips draw into a tight line and you worry you had done something else to disappoint him. Then he looks and you, his eyes on your breasts then moving down your body, mapping you with his eyes. His hand moves between your knees, pushing them apart until he can see your covered slit. You close your eyes, embarrassed, knowing what he would see. He doesn’t comment on the wet patch on your underwear, but you hear a small groan which makes your already throbbing core ache.

“Open your eyes, pet.” August orders. You open them and his bright blue orbs burn into you and you notice for the first time, the brown spot covering the top of his eye. It was as if he came with a warning label, there is a dark spot within him, but his darkness was as beautiful to you as the rest of him.

You lick your lips, your urge to kiss him is strong, you want to show him you want him. The flick of your tongue calls August’s attention away from your eyes and he studies your lips. Your lips part, you lick them again in a silent plea to him, the anticipation too much.

With a nearly indiscernible throat clear August says, “Get up.” His voice is deep and throaty and leaves no room for argument. He guides you to his bedroom and pushes you to your knees in front of him. “If you’re going to offer me your tongue, pet. I will take it.”

August reaches into his pants and pulls out his rapidly hardening cock. He tugs it a few times, you watched rapt as his huge hands twist over his head and down over his broad shaft. You moan as you watch him grow harder, the sight of him holding himself while looking at you is too much. You want to feel him in your mouth, make him feel good, pull from him the reward of his groans and his seed. He looks down at you with blazing azure eyes, and a menacing curl on his lip. His free hand grips your hair, guiding you to him. Without being asked you open your mouth.

There is no gentleness in August now. He presses you deep onto his cock, forcing himself into you until you gag and your stomach heaves. He pulls your head away as tears well in your eyes. “Beautiful,” he whispers.

Forcing you on him again, he fucks your mouth. Thrusting himself into you while pulling your head onto him, you fall into a daze. You keep your jaw open, trying to keep your teeth away from him, your lips fold over your teeth. The bruising action of his pumping cock cause your teeth to press painfully on your fleshy lips and you can feel them swelling. You can’t see August anymore, your sight is too blurry from your tears, but you can hear him. You can hear the grunts as he punishes your mouth, the breathy ‘fuck’ he moans as he uses you and you know you would let him do almost anything to hear him react like that.

His rhythm starts to falter and you prepare yourself for his orgasm, excited to know how he tastes. But he doesn’t, he pulls your hair back so your face pointed up to his, his lips are pulled back, his teeth bared, he sucks in breath which whistles through his teeth. You know he is close.

“Keep your mouth open,” he growls through his clenched teeth. He pumps himself now, and you want to watch but he forces you to look at his face. You watch his eye brows raise and his mouth open as his orgasm hits and the deep guttural cry of his release is followed swiftly by the thick ropes of his seed painting your waiting tongue. His pulse is uncontrolled as he decorates your lips, cheeks and chin.

A long rolling shudder moves over his body and he lets out a content moan. It was one of the single most erotic things you had ever seen. He puffs out a breath and smirks at you. You can’t help but smile back, he appears so relaxed now, almost happy. You’ve never seen him happy.

He tilts his head as he uses his fingers to gather this cum onto his fingers and feeds it you. You eagerly lick his fingers clean with a moan, you feel so proud that you have made him happy. When he has finished feeding you for the second time that morning, he tucks himself in his pants and checks the time. He pulls the covers back and gets into bed, patting the spot next to him, indicating you should join him with a flick of his head.

Sliding your shoes off, you slip in beside him, he lays your head on him stroking your hair a while. You press your ear to his chest and listen to his slowing heart rate, its low reverberation almost lulling you back to sleep. He doesn’t say anything for a long time and when he does speak you are surprised by his question. “Why did you join the CIA? The real reason, not the one in your file.”

Your heart skips a beat. Does he know? Is it his way of telling me? You think for a while, not sure of how to answer. “My aunt was an Agent. She went missing ten years ago. I didn’t want to follow in her footsteps. I wanted to know what happened to her.”

Your reply was an act of trust, the answer could get you thrown out of the Agency. You weren’t supposed to want to know things that were above your security clearance. Wanting to know something was dangerous. If the CIA thought you should know, they will tell you, otherwise, ask no questions.

August just hums and doesn’t ask anything else. For a few more minutes you lay on his chest, until he says, “Time to clean up, Pet and get to work.”

You moan and push your face into his chest, wrapping your arms and legs around him. “I don’t want to, August.”

“If you’re going to whine when it’s time to go, then perhaps we won’t be able to do this again tonight.” His threat gets you out of bed. You are sure August doesn’t make a threat he isn’t prepared to go through with. “Good choice, Pet. I admit, this morning was a little selfish, but tonight we will have longer.” He promises. You go to his bathroom, wash your face and when you return you find your clothes laid on your bed with a black velvet box sitting on top.

Curious, you dress first then sitting on the now made bed you open it to find a discreet day collar. It was gold and was a simple rigid, thin ring shape that required a special hex key to open and close.

“Will you wear it?” August’s voice came from the doorway. Stunned you look from the collar to him and back to the collar. You don’t know what to say. It was pretty and wouldn’t warrant comment, but you still worried about it. Glancing at August again, you couldn’t say no. Wearing his collar, having a sign of his ownership was something you hadn’t dreamed he would want. But you realised how wrong you were, when August owned you, he wanted all of you and wanted you to know it.

“Yes,” you say and take him the box. He opens it and places it around your neck, and you hear the mechanism click in place.

August’s eyes dance as he kisses your swollen and bruised lips. “Now you really are mine, Pet.”

Part 4

Tag List:

@henryobsessed @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @posiemax @nostalgicb-txh @moonlacebeam @anitababi @agniavateira @blakerogue @shadesofarrogance @mansaaay

#august walker #august walker x reader #august walker x you #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #mission impossible fallout #august walker smut #august walker fanfiction

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dreemurr-fever · 3 years ago

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The Backrooms Entities

(I know I normally post DC stuff but I wanted to share my creatures for the Backrooms. Let me know what you think and wether I should post more Backrooms related content)

The All-Seer

A mysterious creature that follows you around. It is unknown whether it’s friendly or aggressive as no one has ever gotten close to it. It stares at you from afar, causing a weird feeling of anxiety. It’s always watching whether you’re aware or not. It might not even be real but a part of your imagination as you lose your sanity running around looking for any way of escape. Getting to it is impossible since the feeling of anxiety worsens the closer you get, causing you to have a panic attack. It can also camouflage itself into its environment allowing it to see you but you cannot see it.

The All-Seer is a long thin black creature with eyes covering parts of its body and a tail made out of floating pieces of bones with a huge eye at the end. The All-Seer seems to be made out of an unknown substance as the top of its head and other parts of its body seem to disintegrate and wave around as well as move like flames. The All-Seer’s eyes can move in any direction, allowing it to look everywhere all at once.

Mother

A giant worm-like creature with the skull of a dragon. She is unable to move from her spot and is confined to one place. Black goopy tears run from her eyes non-stop. She’s a friendly creature who gives you advice on how to deal with other creatures and where to find food. Her body is soft and warm and she allows you to sleep on her while she protects your resting body from hostile creatures. Not many creatures mess with her as they’re afraid of what a giant creature like herself could do to them.

Gilbert the Clown

A headless clown carrying a balloon wth his face on it and the tip of a bone protruding out of his neck. The eyes on his balloon face are spirals which cause any unfortunate soul who comes across him to fall under hypnosis allowing him to feast off of your nightmares and scaring you to death. Gilbert is a trickster and lures you in with false promises of whatever you want most. Sometimes even promising to help you out of the Backrooms.

Gilbert is a simple yet horrifying creature, especially to those with Caulrophobia. He has the body of kids’ birthday clown yet his nails are long and sharp, allowing him to plunge them deep into your skin to prevent you from escaping him. Around his wrists are bellswhich warn of his presence being nearby. The clown’s face is attached to a balloon which he holds and never lets go of it. He sports regular clown makeup with red lips and cheeks as well as a line across both eyes and a big red nose. Unervingly however, his smile is made up of rows of sharp teeth.

Static Error

A cybernetic being wandering around the Backrooms. This creature is neither friendly nor hostile but if you run into it the loud noises and bright lights emitting from it cause migraines and nausea so it’s best to stay out of its way. Not much is known of this creature due to the brutal pain caused when being in its presence for long enough. It carries an old tv for a head displaying static and flashing bright, colorful lights. Its body is robotic and sports a red power button on its chest. It also has a power plug for a tail, most likely used for charging. Perhaps this creature can be turned off?

#the backrooms #weirdcore #backrooms oc #phobias #scopophobia #megalophobia #coulrophobia #technophobia #backrooms entity #backrooms au

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blackstarising · 4 years ago

Text

precipice, a buckysarah fic | also on ao3

bucky and sarah spend saturday mornings together on the wilson's back porch. neither remembers when this became a habit.

She’s awake for a few moments before she hears it, the creaking, through the open window. It’s not loud, of course, it’s never loud, Daddy had dutifully oiled the swing’s joints to make sure that wouldn’t happen, but age had touched it just enough that, nowadays, you’d know if someone was sitting there.

Sarah sits up, and rubs the sleep from her eyes. The thick, summer air fills her lungs, the same that coats her forehead in a sheen of sweat. Lingering tension from melts from her shoulders. Unconsciously, she brushes the dog tags nestled inside of her shirt.

He’s okay. Thank God.

A familiar electric buzz runs up the back of her spine as she pads past the boys’ rooms and tiptoes down the stairs. Months ago, that buzz would have prompted her toss her bonnet onto her bed, to swiftly change into jeans and a somewhat presentable T-shirt, even though Saturday mornings before 8 were, by law, designated as Sarah Time.

And then, three weeks ago, the last time she’d seen him in person, she’d raced down the stairs to get AJ’s stuffed toy (some Minecraft thing? Sarah could never keep track) that he’d accidentally left outside before he woke up, cheesy printed pajamas and all. He hadn’t flinched.

He could fit into Sarah Time, she’d decided, right then and there. Lizzo’s “Cuz I Love You” was left on repeat on her phone for her the rest of the day.

So she slips downstairs, ‘Bad Mama Jama’ shirt and all. Coffee steeps. Two mugs are produced, lactose-free milk dumped into each, and a sizable glop of honey into hers.

After all this time, his breath still catches a little when he sees her come out the back door. The humidity that sticks to Bucky’s skin like a stifling coat makes her skin shimmer in the faint sunlight. She yawns, her nose wrinkling just enough that it’s painfully cute, and then she relaxes, still sleepy but serene as she presses the hot mug into his right hand.

“Hey.” He greets her.

“Hey.” Her smile grows. “You’re back.”

“I am. With cinnamon rolls.” Sure enough, a paper bag rests next to the swing. He pats his left side, and she obliges. Their thighs touch plainly this time.

She takes a slow sip of her coffee. “Hope you haven’t been sitting here all night. Where’s Sam?”

“About an hour, and still in DC. Captain America business, and all that.”

“And what? No Winter Soldier business?”

Bucky shrugs. “I like the quiet.” Her quiet. Or maybe just her and the boys, though the boys weren’t that quiet. And ‘like’ was too weak a word at this point, probably.

She takes another sip of coffee, strangely proud. He does too, if only to silence the annoyingly insistent voice in the back of his head nagging him to just put his arm around her shoulder already.

“Still not sure about this fancy milk, though.”

“You mean milk that me and the kids can actually digest?” Sarah knows damn well he can’t taste the difference. “Well, I have bad news for you about oat milk. And soy milk." She grins wickedly. "And don't forget rice milk-”

“None of which belong in coffee.” After nearly a century of identities and missions she’s not sure if she ever wants to hear about, his Brooklyn accent is faint, but he still stretches out the caw in ‘coffee’. How mortifying it is, the way she perks up when that grit bleeds out.

He brushes the bright blue hem of her bonnet. “Is this new?”

She shakes her head and pulls it off. Dark braids tumble down her shoulders. These ones are new, he notices - they’re tighter at the root, and shimmer with oil that smells of roses. “Found out AJ stuffed it in the couch cushions a month ago. I just happened to stick my hand down there yesterday. I do not know what it is about him and that damn couch.” She snickers. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and find a signed check for a million dollars down there one day.”

He chuckles, and gives the ground a little kick the start the swing going again. “Did he get his new glasses yet? Last time I was here, he was saying that he didn’t want to see the optometrist again.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t like the...” Sarah makes a motion with a finger, like she’s pressing a button. “There’s a little gun they use. They blow a puff of air onto your eyeball.”

Bucky recoils a little. “They what?”

“It’s supposed to measure it for the prescription. They tried to do it on me before they did his. I thought it was supposed to be just like a little breeze, but it bounces off your eye.” She pauses and scratches her head. “I may have hollered-”

“Ha! I bet he took that well.”

“I had to get him on my lap to calm down.” She sighs and pouts, just a little. “At least he still wants to be held. Cass makes me drop him off a block away from school now.”

Cass is indeed growing. Overnight, he’s shot up like a reed so that he’s just as high as Bucky’s shoulders. His normally smooth skin is interrupted by a few bumps, and his voice bounces around in pitch like an untuned clarinet. Something in his chest twinges when he considers it, how time marches forward. How, very soon, the collective wide-eyed innocence of the boys will harden into adulthood.

Her gaze falls to his left hand. The fingers curl and flex. She still remembers the first time she’d looked at his arm, really looked at it, the dark plates molding and shifting. It’d been the second time they’d shared this same porch, waiting for Sam to bring back the boys from fishing.

I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, Sarah, he’d said suddenly, catching her gaze. His voice had been heavy, but clear. Dark blue eyes filled with regret. I’ve hurt people. Killed people. I didn’t have a choice, but, with you and- here, she’d held her breath as his Adam’s apple bobbed, how quickly he’d blinked - and the boys, I...I don’t want- I need you to know all of me. Who I’ve been. Who I am. And then you can decide. But you can’t do that if I’m not honest.

She doesn’t remember what she’d said after. She does remember watching him get into the truck so Sam could take him to the airport. How he’d paused when he’d opened the door, and turned towards her, eyes wide. Vulnerable. How she’d smiled at him, and waved, maybe a bit too cheesily, like it’d been the easiest thing in the world, because despite it all, oddly, she hadn’t been afraid. How the widest grin had broken out on his face and something deep inside her chest that had been closed had burst open for the first time since she’d lost Andrew. And she remembers watching the truck pull out of the drive as her heart filled to such a capacity that her chest hurt, and the second they’d disappeared over the hill she’d promptly burst into tears, well, really, half laughing and half sobbing, because how the hell was she supposed to know she could find that feeling again?

It’s only when she sees his jaw clench that she finally notices the cut, long and fading pink against his chiseled cheekbones. Maybe she’s getting too used to them - he’s always injured in some way when he gets back.

He can see that familiar softening in her eyes as she catches sight of the gash. Well, it had been a gash just an hour before, the result of catching a thrown knife on his cheek before he’d caught the hilt. But what’s about to happen next will play like clockwork.

First, she’s going to try to get a closer look. Her index and pointer finger come up just under his chin, tilting his head to the side. His skin tingles, the electricity of her concern rushing through him.

Then, she’ll hum. She’s never chastised him, though he wouldn’t know what there’d be to say if she tried. But that hum says more than enough.

“Hmm.”

In the moment, she doesn’t feel herself cupping his face with both hands, it just sort of happens. Her throat dries instantly as the stubble brushes in her palms.

He can’t breathe, but every single muscle in his body relaxes. He sinks into her touch.

“Y- you should see the other guy,” he manages to get out. There’s a faint memory that breaks to the surface, the docks in New York, 1940-something, 1943? A date whose name has been lost to time, the last date he’d ever go on. Soft hands cupping his face, just like this, and warm, pleading ruby-red lips crashing dully into his, a whisper to not forget her.

Sarah’s tongue darts between her lips. Both thumbs rub small circles into his cheeks. It wasn’t a question of if he wanted to kiss her, no. When has a day gone by that he hasn’t thought of kissing her? How is it that it’s never happened, but he can see it, clear as crystal, and hold it in his mind’s eye. How can he already feel her warm and flush and present and breathless and real against him?

Very slowly, she comes back to herself, and her face immediately flushes with a sharper heat. Her hands awkwardly drop from his face. She tries to think of something, anything, to interrupt the silence (to explain herself?), but every word that comes to mind sticks helplessly in her throat and she just can’t stand it because she’s the same, she’s exactly the same as she’d been at 17, leg jiggling and sweating and staring a hole right through the back of Andrew’s head in AP Calculus.

(She’d never wanted to punch Sam so bad back then when he’d had the audacity to say well, just tell him, already. The audacity of him, to think things were so simple.)

She leans back, scooting just a hair away this time. The crest of the sun beams through the trees, painfully bright. Her pulse is louder now. She’s looking at the small grove so intently she doesn’t even register the weight gently settle on her left shoulder at first. It only clicks when she feels the cool metal of his thumb brush up and down her bicep. Their eyes lock, brown against against blue.

He’s still smiling, and she, she realizes, is too.

So she melts into him. She melts into him, her ear landing over his chest, her arm wrapping around the small of his back. She sighs into the muted whoosh whoosh whoosh of his heartbeat, the cotton of his shirt, and the faint smell of spearmint on his breath. Another kick of her foot and they’re swinging yet again, back and forth, back and forth. The sun pulls itself up ever higher and higher.

The light starts to burn his cheek. “The boys’ll be up soon,” he murmurs into her hair.

She snuggles deeper into him. “Mmm.”

They’re on the precipice of something, this, they both know. They're inching closer and closer, and one day they’ll step off, and she’ll kiss him full on the mouth and whenever he’ll come back to the house he’ll be coming back home and whenever they go anywhere they’ll stick each others hand in their back pockets in that particular way that teenagers do that let everyone know that they’re each others and there’s nothing they can do about it.

One day. But for now, this is more than enough.

They like the quiet.

#tfatws #tfatws spoilers #bucky barnes #sarah wilson #buckysarah #bucky x sarah #sarahbucky #sarah x bucky #otp: buckysarah

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sl-walker · 4 years ago

Photo

All right, since I’m in the middle of a flare and have to work manual labor for the next four days despite it, I figured I would make myself -- and hopefully other people -- laugh by talking about one of my favorite OG Captain Marvel stories. Namely, from Whiz #50, with a cover date of January, 1944, meaning it was probably produced sometime in late 1943.

I want to share it because why not, this is some absurdly charming stuff.

I’ll get more into why it’s one of my favorites as we go, in the form of running commentary. So, full story (with said commentary) under the cut. If you wanna just read the story without my commentary, stick to the pictures. XD

First, let me say that the cover and splash page definitely live up to the story, though the cover’s a bit more sensationalized. But the premise is pretty damn simple: Our intrepid hero and his newsboy alter ego are on vacation. Cap decides to go swimming. It goes hilariously wrong and thus ensues a bit of a madcap adventure, no puns intended.

Second, the fact that Cap and Billy are depicted as essentially different entities makes what Billy does next the ultimate trolling:

Gee, airing out the stolen laundry on the radio? Really? I’ll leave it up to you, gentle reader, whether Billy actually was trolling his own alter-ego for ratings or whether he was just innocently sharing the story while his other-self winced quietly in whatever ether-space he exists in when not front-and-center.

Either way, I love it.

Continuing on...

I get a kick out of the fact that Billy’s monologue is that he’s no dare-devil. One, because that’s so obviously not true in any way -- (that kid is awesomely, sometimes recklessly brave on the regular even without Cap) -- but two, because the bridge is actually named Dare-Devil Bridge. We aren’t given any reason why this dangerous potential death-trap is there, hanging without so much as a gate or a warning sign or anything, because we don’t need one. It’s there specifically for what happens next.

Which, of course, is Billy calling in Captain Marvel, who does some light complaining about the situation Billy left him in. There’s no bite to it, which I find adorable -- Cap actually does get frustrated once or twice in other issues with Billy calling on him for mundane stuff, though he’s never mean about it -- but there is a bit of the sense of being put-upon there that’s just-- I dunno, cute. It’s something I miss a lot in the various post-crisis takes on the character: That duality, that difference in personality, and the way each of them responds to different situations. Often, they’re on the same page, but notably, sometimes, they aren’t.

Someday, I promise, I need to sit down and write how I think that works between those two without being a truly frightening mental illness manifested, what with them being the same person but not the same person. Because I have so many ideas, and I’ve only had since the early-2000s to percolate them. LOL! But until then, just enjoy this.

Here is another reason why I love the Golden Age Captain Marvel books and why I love this specific story: This is an absolutely normal, mundane thing to do. It’s the human thing to do. These aren’t the actions of some super-serious superdude. These are the actions of a pretty shockingly normal guy doing something mundane. And a whole story is built around that normalcy.

It’s cute. It’s funny. It’s the reader already knowing that he’s getting himself into a situation that he absolutely could have avoided, but also completely understanding how it happened anyway. It’s pretty brilliant writing: I say this as a pretty damned good writer myself.

So much of the reason why, I think, Cap was so endearing as a hero is that humanity. He’s got pretty much god-tier power in the Golden Age, once his powerset is established. He’s utterly invulnerable to all physical harm while powered up. But-- he’s human. He knows he’s human. He acts like it, and decides, “You know what? I’m going skinny-dipping.”

He and Billy are both characters it’s so easy to empathize with.

Also, a reminder that the art under Chief Artist C.C. Beck is really, really good. (He had a whole stable of artists to help produce this stuff!) Ignoring registration issues on the printing press, the actual line art is amazingly good; proportion and perspective and consistency.

But anyway--Cap does get to enjoy his swim. But, then, oh no.

I love the idea of a world where the prime hero -- and he definitely is in that world -- can take off his suit and go swimming, and where someone else is bold enough to steal the damn suit off of him. The first time I read this, I started laughing here. Not at him, but at the situation he’s found himself in. At the idea that some random passer-by saw Captain Marvel’s costume and went yoink!

Another thing I love about this particular story is how much Cap and Billy have to work together, just by necessity. Like-- it’s just really good. But anyway, thank everything Billy Batson is on the ball, coming to the rescue.

Sheer bad luck via the weather keeps this story rolling along in hilarious misdirections. Realistically, that uniform probably wouldn’t be all buttoned together (we see Cap take off pieces of it aside the pants in other issues, including socks!), but who cares? The point of the story is that giant bear rug on the floor’s gonna get put to use.

Man, when have you ever seen Superman creeping naked through some stranger’s house wearing nothing but a random polar bear because he went skinny dipping? No wonder these comics sold so well. This next panel is when I start wheezing, though, and pretty much keep wheezing.

“A lady, too! I’ve got to get away from here!”

I’m dying at this point. That’s such a characteristic response, and yet, I think that’s why it’s funny.

Anyway, because this is an excellent story (I mean this without an ounce of irony, too), our dynamic duo stumbles across a plot in play to rob the hotel they’re staying at.

Here’s a big part of why this is such a good tale: Everything fits. Even when it isn’t explained, like Dare-Devil Bridge, it still fits. Why is the tree down? Because there was just a thunder storm, the same one that blew Cap’s suit into the room with the gangsters.

I don’t know if this is Otto Binder’s story, but I wouldn’t be surprised in the least. It’s a complete story told in relatively few pages that accomplishes everything it’s meant to.

Anyway, using foliage as cover, Cap gets to be heroic----then Billy gets to get back to the business of trying to stop the robbery of the hotel and get his heroic alter-ego dressed again. Which leads to a rather adorable and funny scene of Billy not only trying to describe what Captain Marvel wears, but what size it would need to be tailored in.

(Cap is supposedly a 44 for a suit coat, we find in some earlier appearance, which would refer to his chest size. So, an XL for shirts and suit-coats. He’s a big guy, but he’s actually not a hulking huge guy. But more on that later.)

I love the fact Billy tries to like-- use himself as a model. Maybe in another ten years, kiddo. Billy’s actually pretty buff for like a 12-14 year old, he’s not a scrawny kid at this point, but yeah, no. LOL!

Another thing I also really, really love about this style, though, is that they draw Captain Marvel as being strong, as having a powerful build-- but not as a dehydrated body-builder with deep cuts. He’s got human proportions, regardless of his strength; he’s got a human build, not a superhuman one.

C.C. Beck had a lot of things to say about superheroes who were just muscles on top of muscles, all clearly defined, and he didn’t like it. As someone who first got into comics in the early 90s with Jim Lee’s X-Men--

I do get Beck’s point. I not only get it, but I really highly approve of it. He maintained to the end that he drew (and oversaw) the Marvel family to look like high school and college athletes, and I can see that. I think the one person who’s gotten it right in the modern era is Evan “Doc” Shaner, who did Convergence: Shazam! He not only nailed that strong-but-not-hulking build for Cap, but also how young he looked. College-age, in fact.

But anyway, enough digression into art and why I like this better than most modern takes on the character. Also, that’s just a cute set of panels.

I also like that there wasn’t an easy fix there. Cap’s still in his not-birthday suit, and Billy’s still stuck running around trying to solve the issues at hand. Next comes some other really good panels:

-snorts- He’s locked in. Yeah, that’ll hold him.

Anyway, what I really liked here was again that tandem working; Billy can’t punch through a wall, but Cap can. Cap can’t crawl out while he’s au natural -- well, he could, but he’d probably rather die first -- but Billy’s got no such issue. It’s just fun when you get to see them doing something like that. You have to really think for a minute about the trust each of them must have in their alter-ego.

ANYWAY, we get the rare treat then--

--of Captain Marvel not only yoinking a dude into a dark room, but then stealing his clothes. Except, not his underwear. Because that’s nasty. LOL!

I love that in this series, you do actually get to see him wear other stuff. Go incognito. Get his red suit messed up enough to take it to a dry cleaner’s, wherein he ends up dressed like a musketeer after. Jerry Ordway’s series is, I think, the only other time we see Cap not wearing his famous suit, but it happened enough in the Golden Age that it wasn’t a shock.

Like, I hate to be the one to say this, but I do think DC drops the ball often on just how much you can do with Captain Marvel (or Shazam, depending on timeline, but that’s the wizard’s name to me so mostly I’ll stick with the original name) if you unbend enough to. It’s not just the costume change, or the duality of him and Billy being the same but not, but also his inherent, essential humanity.

But I am digressing again, sorry. XD I just feel strongly enough about these versions of these characters to spend hours writing this.

Anyway, only a single panel later:

And that’s that! Billy Batson has just outed his own alter-ego’s most embarrassing moment to whomever’s listening to WHIZ radio -- thank everything podcasts and the internet weren’t available then, ha! -- and we get to see a recounting of a very fun story.

Like I said earlier, I love this one for its essential humanity. The hero got himself into this mess, he and Billy got him out of this mess, and stopping the criminals was actually just kind of a lucky stroke thrown in there. But even though Cap got himself into this, the story never treats him like he’s stupid. It never treats him like he’s some kind of idiot. You’re laughing, but-- not in a mean way.

I love how human it is. How complete it is. How genuinely funny it is. It’s a thousand times more funny when you genuinely love and respect Captain Marvel and Billy Batson, too.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this dissertation on a skinny-dipping hero. LOL! I enjoyed sharing it with you.

#dc captain marvel #billy batson #shazam #whiz comics

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snarky-badger · 3 years ago

Note

Top 5 or 10 writing tips?

Ask me my top 5/10 anything

This got a little long so #5 to 10 will be behind a cut!

Please remember that these are my personal opinions. If you disagree with me, that's fine!

1. Write for yourself first and foremost. Do it because you love doing it/love the characters/love the topic. Not because it's 'expected' of you. This is supposed to be fun!

2. Take your time. If you can't write everyday, then don't. Forcing a narrative rarely works. If it takes you a month or longer to put out a chapter/story then that's the timeline.

3. You don't have to work on one piece at a time. I get multiple ideas. Do I ignore them and work only on one story? No! Because I don't want to lose that urge to write. If I work on more than one story at a time then so be it. Variety is the spice of life after all ;)

4. First drafts are just that. First drafts. It doesn't have to be perfect. You can always go back to edit. Heck, you can even revise the entire story if you want. It's yours to mold.

5. If you need a beta/friend/fellow writer to help you, don't take that as a criticism to your writing. People need help sometimes. An extra set of eyes can catch things you might have missed. Fellow writers can share tips, and friends who follow your work can be good sounding boards for new ideas/writer's block/etc

6. You can't please everyone. Some people will love your stuff, some won't. Don't take it personally. You may even get a troll. Block buttons exist. Don't interact, don't start a war, just block them. They're not worth your time.

7. If you're writing a character that already exists (Marvel, DC, Movies, Comics, etc), remember that not everyone will look at that character and see the same 'person' you do. Everyone views characters differently, and if there are numerous versions of said character, then there will be numerous takes and beliefs about them. *cough*MCU Ultron *cough* is very different from his comic/cartoon/game counterparts. I learned the hard way that not everyone views him the same way I do. That's okay. To each their own.

8. If you write smut, you can't stop the minors from viewing your stuff. It's infuriating, because it can put you at risk. But it's not your responsibility to parent other people's kids. Yes, it sucks. Yes, they should know better. But they don't care. They're gonna ignore that button/warning/wtf and read it anyway. It's so simple to just make a fake account to get around the warnings. Do what you can, but don't obsess over it, because all you'll do is stress yourself out over something you can't control.

9. Way back when, everyone was up in arms about 'Mary Sues'. Well screw them. You wanna write yourself into a fic? Do it. Save the world, marry that hero, tame that villain. Go nuts. Enjoy writing.

10. Tag your stuff. Please for the love of whatever Gods are listening, tag your stuff. AO3 has an awesome tagging system. And Tumblr is simple enough that you can just pop in some small warnings about things. Remember that not everyone enjoys the same topics you do. Worse, sometimes topics can be triggering to others. Please take that into advisement.

#writing tips #snarky answers #answered asks #top 5/10 asks

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nerdyfangirl67 · 5 years ago

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Through the Night - Criminal Minds Imagine

Pairing: Hotch x reader

Warning: language, intense torture, inflicted pain, violence, anxiety,

Word count: 2,300

Imagine being taken by an unsub and Hotch finding you and not wanting to leave your side.

You weren’t really sure if you were conscious or not. The lack of sight and sound made you believe not, but the intense pain coursing through your body told you otherwise. Your thoughts were fuzzy, making it hard to think. You tried several times to get up but something was holding you down. And you could easily feel the gag in your mouth, preventing you from making any sound.

Nothing. Nothing happened for a long time. The inability to use most of your senses was preventing you from figuring out anything about where you were. After experiencing intense feelings of anger, fear, and frustration, all you felt now was tired.

You may have fallen asleep because you were jerked out of your sensory deprivation by a sudden light. Pain erupted in your head and you blinked your eyes closed at the searing, white intensity.

A hand hit your face, hard. “Open your damn eyes.” The voice was deep and gravelly.

You forced your eyes open and you took in the man before you. It was definitely the unsub of the case you and the team were working. His brown eyes, unfocused and crazed, were studying you. His black hair was unkempt and he was sporting a beard, albeit one only a few days old. He smiled at you, a wild gleam in his eyes as he removed your gag.

“Tell me about your team.” He demanded forcibly. You remained silent, refusing to share anything about those you considered your family. He slapped you again, causing your head to spin and fog up your thoughts. You clenched your jaw tight and said nothing. You were going to suppress the pain for as long as possible, to keep from giving the unsub the satisfaction of hearing you scream.

“Okay, if that is how you want to play it. I sure have a few tools I have been wanting to try out.” He disappeared out of sight. You used that moment to try and remember what happened and if your team knew where you were. Try as you may, you couldn’t recall much of anything.

The unsub, whose name was John or James or something fairly similar, strolled easily back into the room, carrying a large toolbox with him. You squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to watch as he pulled out the tool that would undoubtedly inflict a lot of pain on you.

“Last chance missy. You could save yourself a lot of pain.” He said sadistically.

You opened your mouth as if to speak, waiting for him to lean in before spitting in his face. His features were quickly marred as signs of intense anger overtook his face.

He grabbed a pair of needle-nose pliers, moving quickly towards your hand. You tightened your hand up in a fist but swiftly relaxed it as he slammed the pliers down on your hand. You closed your eyes and turned your head away. A horrific, burning pain exploded from your fingers. You didn’t have to see what he was doing to know he was violently removing your fingernails. It wasn’t long before you were screaming out in pain.

He didn’t stop there though. He replaced his pliers with a new tool, one you quickly learned was a hammer, and turned his attention to your other hand. He put the time in making sure that each of your fingers was broken before bringing the hammer down hard on the back of your hand.

You passed out from the pain shortly after that, drifting in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he would bring you back with a bucket of cold water thrown in your face and others he would leave you be. Each time he demanded the same thing, “Tell me about your team.” You never said a word, the only vocalization you made were the screams of agony and whimpers of pain.

You couldn’t guess how long you had been there, tied to a chair, but you knew it wouldn’t be much longer. Either the team would find you or you would die, simple as that.

You didn’t have much left in you to fight and the only thing keeping you from giving up was the fact that you never told Aaron how you felt about him. After years of loving him silently, you had been ready to tell him. And you didn’t want to go, not knowing if there had been a future for the two of you.

A commotion sounded upstairs, followed quickly by a gunshot. Fear took hold and you tried desperately to free yourself of the gag in your mouth, the one the unsub replaced every time he finished with you. You were unsuccessful in your attempts to remove it and knew that all you could do was wait.

Heavy black boots appeared on the steps, followed quickly by a pair of jean-clad legs, a muscular torso, and finally a face. You cried out, as best you could, in relief and exhaustion when you saw it was Morgan. He was followed by Reid and Rossi. Morgan continued to clear the room, a basement of some sort, as Reid and Rossi moved straight towards you. You relaxed just knowing it was them.

They quickly removed the gag and restraints; the entire time Reid spoke softly to you. Morgan, who had moved over to you, must have sensed your fatigue and pain because he gently said “Baby girl, I’m gonna pick you up” before slowly sweeping you into his arms. Pain exploded from many different places in your body and you were unable to suppress a cry.

You don’t remember much after that. A short moment in the ambulance of a familiar face leaning towards you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, a brief flash of being surrounded by doctors in a bright room, and then darkness.

The darkness was soothing, gentle, and quiet. You were comfortable staying there for a long time. It was only when a nagging sound and returning feelings in your body overtook the sweet darkness that you realized you were indeed alive. Several times you had been aware of your surroundings, of JJ talking rapidly on the phone, of Reid reading out loud, of Morgan chattering loudly, of Garcia telling you all about her day, but most importantly of Aaron talking, telling you about little, unimportant things and about how sorry he was.

Finally, after what felt like ages, you were able to pull yourself away from the darkness. It was quiet and the only thing you felt was someone holding your hand. You opened your eyes and was greeted with semi-darkness. You turned slightly to the right and noticed Aaron was holding your hand. He was leaning back in one of the hospital chairs, legs sprawled out in front of him and head resting in a very uncomfortable looking position.

“Aaron?” You croaked, unsure if he was asleep or not. Not a second after you had pathetically uttered his name, was he up and leaning towards you.

His face lit up with a smile, seeing you were awake. He grabbed a cup that had been sitting beside the bed and helped you hold the cup as you greedily drank the water.

“How’s your pain?” Aaron asked after you had settled back down into the pillows.

“I’ve definitely felt better, that’s for sure.” You whispered, already tired from the effort it had taken to get a drink.

Aaron immediately pressed the call button and a nurse ran in, checking your IV and administering some pain meds before flitting back out of the room. Soon you were pulled back into your drugged darkness.

Days passed in a similar fashion. Most of the time Aaron was at your side. There were a few times that Morgan or Rossi had been beside you when you had awakened. Eventually, you found out the extent of your injuries, but not from Aaron. He had refused to tell you anything about the unsub that had taken you or what they could piece together about what happened.

You learned that you had some brain swelling, bad enough that it required surgery. One of your hand was so badly broken that it needed reconstructive surgery once the swelling receded, you had a few broken ribs and there were even a few burns littering your body. Aside from these injuries, your body was also covered in bruises and welts.

You had trouble sleeping, which led to Aaron spending many a night in the uncomfortable hospital chair, gripping your hand and talking to you. There were even times when you just laid in the hospital bed, listening to Aaron talk.

It was a month before the hospital felt that you were well enough to leave, but they strongly suggested you stay with someone for another month at least. This bit of information threw you for a loop because you were alone in DC. Both your parents had passed years ago and the only living relative you knew of, an aunt in California, was in a retirement facility.

Each one of the team members jumped at the chance to stay with you. Penelope was thrilled at the idea of having a month-long sleepover, Reid wanted to “educate you” in the ways of Star Trek and classic literature, Rossi wanted to use you a guinea pig for his recipes, and Morgan wanted someone who would jam to his beats, and maybe even play a video game or two with him. Seeing how excited the team was to be there for you made your heart squeeze painfully at the thought of how close you had gotten to losing them.

You couldn’t say no to any of them and was ready to just suggest a rotating schedule when Aaron spoke up. “She is staying with me.” He said it with such finality that no one questioned him. You had looked at him questioningly but hadn’t argued.

It was less than an hour later that you found yourself staring at the front door to Aaron’s apartment.

“Are you sure you want me in your space? I mean, I’m sure Penelope would be fine with staying over.” You really doubted that Aaron would feel comfortable with you in his private space. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He replied, staring deep into your Y/E/C eyes. You felt a blush bloom on your face, and had glanced down at your feet in embarrassment.

A hand tilted your face up again. “Really Y/N. I want you here.” He spoke softly, a thumb gently moving back and forth along your jaw.

The door flew open, and Aaron jerked his hand away from your face. Jack stood in front of you both, beaming up at you.

“Hi Y/N. I’m so excited you are here. Want to come to see my legos?” His brimming excitement pulled a laugh from your chest. You walked with Jack to his room, letting him tell you all about his legos.

The rest of the day passed swiftly after that. Aaron had shown you to his guest room and had helped you put away some of your things. You hadn’t worried about sleep until you had gone to your bedroom for the evening.

Once you were alone, laying on your bed, you felt crushing anxiety grip your chest. You had left the lamp on alongside your bed but was freaked out enough to carry a blanket and pillow away from the bed, which was alongside the window, to the other side of the room. You couldn’t remember much of what happened, for that you were grateful, but being alone since leaving the hospital had become something you dreaded. You knew Aaron would help you if you asked but he had already been with you through so much, giving up much of his time to be with you. You tried to get comfortable and even fell into a fitful sleep. You were awoken a while later to hand on your shoulder, to which you screamed and kicked forward repeatedly.

Aaron’s soothing voice reached your ears. “Hey, hey. It’s just me, Aaron. You’re okay Y/N. You’re okay.” You took a deep breath, your wide eyes finding Aaron’s. A whimper escaped your lips and Aaron was pulling you into a hug. You let go, crying into his shoulder as he whispered into your ear.

After a while you managed to calm down, taking a deep breath and leaning back from Aaron’s chest. “I’m sorry.” You murmured, your gaze now on your lap. Aaron gently guided your face until you were looking at him again.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He whispered. “I came in here because you sounded upset like you were having a nightmare.” “Aaron, I…” You paused trying to find the words, looking deep into his warm brown eyes. “I want to thank you for everything you have done for me.” He started to speak but you placed a soft finger over his lips.

“I don’t remember much about what happened, but I do remember that the only thing that kept me going, when I felt like giving up, was knowing that I needed to come back to you. I needed to tell you… I needed to tell you that I love you.” You had somehow found the courage to tell him the secret you had been keeping for months, years even.

You watched as shock crossed his face, and then happiness take over. He pulled you close again, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I love you too Y/N. I love you too.”

You knew you had a long way to go before you ever felt normal again, but knowing that Aaron would be by your side through it all made you believe you could do it.

#aaron hotchner #Hotch #hotch x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #fandom #reader insert #CM x reader #criminal minds reader #criminal minds reader insert #you #hotch x you #imagine

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andrewmoocow · 4 years ago

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Steven Universe Alternate Future chapter 18: Growing Pains (originally published on July 12, 2021)

AN: Welcome back everyone. Now, this is going to be a pretty heavy chapter for me to write. Well, mostly the A-plot, the B-plot will be courtroom nonsense ala Phoenix Wright and Harvey Birdman. But I'm getting off track, as someone who have faced some very tough times before in my life, I hope I can be as respectful to both the original episode and everyone who watched it as possible. Now then, let's get rocking and rolling.

Synopsis: Steven goes to his first doctor's appointment and realizes how deep his problems run.

Cast:

Zach Callison as Steven

Estelle as Garnet

Michaela Dietz as Amethyst

Deedee Magno-Hall as Pearl, Volleyball, Yellow Pearl

Grace Rolek as Connie

Mary Elizabeth McGlynn as Priyanka

Tom Scharpling as Greg

Christine Pedi as Holly Blue Agate

Charlyne Yi as Navy

Hayley Kiyoko as Morganite

Jennifer Paz as Lapis, Zuli

Shelby Rabara as Peridot, Squaridot

Uzo Aduba as Bismuth

Amy Sedaris as Yellow Zircon, Blue Zircon

Patti LuPone as Yellow Diamond

Featuring Casey Lee Williams as Cat's Eye

The day after his failed date with Connie, Steven stayed in his bedroom for most of the morning where he was surrounded by ice cream and watching the preview for a new Dogcopter movie, which showed the titular canine standing on top of a black car chasing a blue car and a mail van while a pug gave him orders.

"I know you're eager to catch the mail truck Dogcopter, but it's really a decoy!" the other dog at the wheel named Drew ordered Dogcopter. "Chase the blue car instead! Good boys chase the blue car, and you're a good boy Dogcopter!"

With a fearless expression, Dogcopter leaped off the black car and used the propeller on his back to fly towards the black car, followed by using a pair of extendable hands to open up the trunk, revealing a bomb and a ring box inside.

"Nice work DC, now get the bomb outta the trunk and off the bridge!" Drew congratulated Dogcopter. "We're almost out of time!"

However, it was too late for Dogcopter. The bomb went off as he tossed it off the bridge, and the resulting explosion blew him away. As Dogcopter collapsed on the bridge, the ring box fell from his mechanical hands and onto the asphalt.

"Dogcopter, no!" Drew cried as he burst from the car to keep his friend alive. "I can't lose you Dogcopter!" Luckily, Dogcopter was unharmed and he woke up to pop open the ring box, which contained a ring shaped like a dog bone that he presented to Drew. "Is that?"

"DOGCOPTER 6: TILL DEATH DO WE BARK: I NOW PRONOUNCE YOU MAN AND WOOF!" the announcer read the film's title as it appeared on the screen, making Steven groan in agony at the irony of the trailer he was watching.

"Everyone's getting married except me!" Steven yelled as he sank into his bed and started turning pink. "Even Dogcopter succeeded in popping the question! I feel like poop." Steven then picked up his phone and tried calling one of the Crystal Gems, but he unfortunately got no answer. "Wish the Gems weren't doing a field trip to Homeworld today. I wonder if they got any reception?"

Meanwhile, on the Gem Homeworld, it was a rather tense time. Following the exposure of Black Rutile's revolution and attempted massacre of the Crystal Gems, the citizens were in fear of who among them could still be a supporter of her. And three followers, in particular, were about to be put on trial.

Garnet, Amethyst, Pearl, Peridot, Lapis, and Bismuth led their classes into the Diamonds' throne room, which was already set up like a courtroom with stands for the judge, jury, witnesses, attorneys, and the accused. Those accused were Holly Blue Agate, Morganite, and Navy, who sat down at the plaintiff's bench with varying expressions of irritation, resignation, and sadness.

"Now class, we want you all to be on your best behavior," Garnet advised the Gem students. "This is a serious time for our kind, and we want absolute silence for most of this trial. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Garnet." The Gems obliged before they retreated to the jury box while their teachers took their seats at the prosecutor's stand. That was when Garnet took notice of Pearl sticking her nose in the book by George Ikari that she had gotten at yesterday's signing.

"I see you're keeping yourself busy Pearl." Garnet remarked, forcing Pearl to look up from her book.

"Thanks for noticing Garnet." Pearl replied to the fusion. "I've just been a little enraptured by this little tome lately. George uses such flowery terms for such simple concepts, and the concepts in question could be very useful to Steven too."

"All y'all, shush!" Amethyst ordered her two seniors. "Here comes the judge!"

"All rise for the honorable Yellow Diamond!" Yellow Pearl announced, serving as the bailiff for this trial, before her former Diamond emerged from the curtained entrance and made her way to her throne.

"Good day to you Gems." Yellow Diamond greeted the other Gems in the makeshift courtroom with utmost seriousness. "In case you are wondering, Blue and White Diamond are out searching for more of Black Rutile's supporters, so I shall serve as sole judge for these proceedings." She informed. "Now without further ado, read the charges."

"Holly Blue Agate-12B, Morganite-8HK, and Ruby-EJ9, you stand here accused of your support of the intelligence officer turned terrorist Black Rutile." Yellow Pearl announced as she read off a hologram. "How do you all plead?"

"Not guilty!" Holly Blue declared, speaking on behalf of all three of them. "Black Rutile is no terrorist, she had big dreams for our kind! She simply wanted to restore us to our old ways because she believed Steven had made us weak, no doubt weak enough to be so easily conquered!"

"Liar. Kinda not surprised you would do this." Amethyst snarked in-between fake coughing, inciting a glare from the Agate before she continued her plea.

"If you can find it within yourself, your most grand clarity, to scrub this silly trial altogether and let us go, it would be most grand." Holly Blue continued.

"Request denied." Yellow declared coldly. "If you really insist on begging on your knees this whole time, then I guess your defense attorney might not be needed."

"Wait, attorney?" Amethyst wondered out loud just as a new Gem stepped into the room.

"Sorry for being so fashionably late, Yellow!" a tall, confident Gem apologized as she strode into the throne room. In addition to the honey yellow pantsuit with large diamond-shaped buttons she wore to match the gemstone above her upper lip that resembled a mole, a straight bob-cut, and a cat's tail emerging from her rear, this new Gem also wore a large sunhat, a neon fur coat, sunglasses, high heels, mustard yellow opera gloves, and a cigarette holder in her left hand. "Had to quell a few uprisings a few districts over. Hope you're not too mad."

"Oh goody." Bismuth shared the sentiments of her fellow Crystal Gems as they grimaced at the cat-like defense attorney, all except for Amethyst.

"Who's the new pussycat here?" Amethyst asked about the attorney.

"That's Cat's Eye, one of the most affluent uppercrusts on Homeworld." Bismuth informed the smaller Gem.

"And one of the most irritating." Lapis groaned as she buried her face in her hands.

"She's almost like an Earth cat in a way." Peridot added. "Incredibly smug, loves making others mad solely for her amusement, and that grin on her face just rubs me the wrong way."

"So Cat, how have you been lately?" Pearl asked the opposing attorney with a strained smile.

"Miserable, my darling Pearl. Perfectly wretched." Cat's Eye answered as she made her coat, hat and sunglasses disappear with a snap of her fingers, revealing a pair of cat ears atop her hair. "Now then, let us get down to business." With that, Cat's Eye took her place alongside the prosecuted trio and kicked her legs up on the table.

"Oh Cat's Eye, thank you so much for coming out today!" Holly Blue exclaimed gratefully. "These horrible traitors have framed us for a crime we clearly didn't commit, and now we could lose every-"

"Could you move approximately 30 centimeters away from me?" Cat's Eye raised a paw-like hand to Holly's face while filing her sharp nails. "You're invading my personal space." The Agate meekly complied and returned to her seat, causing Amethyst to laugh raucously.

"That cat may be trouble, but seeing Holly put in her place will always crack me up!" Amethyst cackled, but her chuckling was cut short when Cat's Eye turned her cigarette holder into a riding crop to whip Amethyst in the hands with. "MEOWCH! Bad kitty, what the H?!"

"Order in the court." Cat's Eye declared crossly as she returned her weapon to her gem and took a stand. "Now, without further ado, I'd like to make my case for these three Gems and call a witness."

"Go right ahead Cat's Eye." Yellow rolled her eyes before the cymophane made her plea.

"Your honor, Gems of the court, these three stand here wrongly accused by these band of ingrates for allying themselves with a known terrorist who once filled a high seat in White Diamond's court." Cat's Eye stated. "But, maybe they could've been spared this fate if the Crystal Gems had simply shown them a little kindness."

"OBJECTION!" Pearl yelled and pointed an accusing finger at Cat. "We tried to show Navy here kindness, but it was all a ploy to steal back her squadron's ship!"

"That is true." Navy agreed. "But I simply played nice because you left us all to drift forever in space, even after Steven said you'd get us all back!"

"I'll admit, she raises a good point." Garnet found herself agreeing with the Ruby. "We were in a rush to get back to Earth, so rescuing the Rubies just flew over our heads."

"I rest my case." Cat's Eye declared with a prideful smirk. "Now, if we have nothing else to discuss, I'd like to call Yellow Zircon to the stand."

The Gems in the gallery began muttering among themselves as Yellow Zircon sadly got up from her seat and marched to the witness's stand, while her blue counterpart gave her a cheeky grin. "Whatever you do," Yellow Zircon said to Blue Zircon. "don't make a fool out of me."

"Oh, I won't." Blue Zircon said innocently as Yellow Zircon made her way to the stands, where Cat's Eye sat down in front of her with a seductive gaze.

"Now my dearest Zircon, do try to not make a fool of yourself for me." Cat cooed, cupping the Zircon's face in her hand and squeezing her cheeks, making her usually arrogant witness blush.

"I-I won't." Yellow Zircon sheepishly obliged and sat down in the witness's box. "But how did you become an attorney? You don't know the first thing about law and order!"

"Well, I'm here because I'm smarter than you think I am!" Cat's Eye yelled at Yellow Zircon's face, a far cry from the smug seductress she presented herself as. "Not because I'm so gorgeous! Though I really am."

"This is going to take a while." Pearl groaned before picking up her book again. "I wonder how Steven is doing."

Back on Earth, Steven continued to scroll through all the numbers he had on his phone. Pretty much most of the people in his contacts had either already began to drift away from him, would probably be too busy to call, or simply didn't have time for him. All except for one.

"Hi, Steven!" Greg greeted his son on the other end after Steven decided to give him a call.

"Hi Dad, how's it going?" Steven asked his father.

"The tour's been going great!" Greg replied happily. "Which reminds me, how have you been doing? You been throwing any dope ragers while you got the house to yourself?"

"Yeah, you know me. Steven the party animal." Steven responded sarcastically. "I'm glad you're finally coming home tonight Dad. I wanna talk to you about something that's happened between me and Connie?"

"Oh, this isn't that whole situation after you came back from Homeworld the first time again, right?" Greg asked sympathetically. "By the way, Sadie and Shep wanna say hi while they're working on a new routine that they're excited to show off. And guess what? The tour got extended!"

"Wow, that's-that's great." Steven tried to sound happy for the musicians and their manager, but at the same time, he was sad that he'd have to wait a little while longer for his dad to come home.

"Yeah." Even if they were far apart, Greg could sense the disappointment in his half-alien son's voice before trying to turn things around. "I get that you want to see me again soon, but this manager job is working great for me! Takes me back to when I was touring as a lad. Anyways, we're gonna go through a tunnel. You wanna call me back about your Connie sitch?"

"I-it's not really important." Steven fibbed.

"You sure?" Greg asked Steven. "You know, I can make a quick stop when we pass through Delmarva."

"No, I'm totally fine. Have fun!" Steven reiterated before hanging up and letting out a deep sigh. "Maybe I should get some more ice cream."

Steven then walked down to the kitchen to fetch some more of that dairy goodness from the freezer, but when he opened the freezer door, he discovered Connie's glow bracelet left in there after last night. Taken by surprise, the depressed half-Gem once again turned pink, but this time was different.

This time, parts of Steven's body began swelling up like a balloon and tearing through his pajamas as he accidentally tore the freezer door off its hinges before slowly turning back to normal. As Steven was left aghast at this new development, he decided to take a breather on the couch. However, his body began swelling up for the second time in a row as Connie began calling him on his phone.

"I shouldn't worry her." Steven tried to hang up on Connie upon realizing her promise yesterday to call him at noon. "You know what, I'll let her go to voicemail!" Steven's body had other plans as his right arm began to inflate and took the call for him, allowing Connie to be seen on his screen while the arm returned to normal.

"Steven, are you there?" Connie asked through video call.

"Hey Connie, what's up?" Steven casually asked, trying to hide the strange new changes his body was going through.

"I've been worried about you Steven." Connie answered when she noticed how pink her best friend was. "Um, are you glowing?" she asked before Steven's face began to puff up. "Good grief, what's wrong with your face?!"

"Wait, my face?" Steven mumbled through his inflated head. "What's wrong with my face?"

"Uh…." Connie replied.

"Oh right, the swelling." Steven realized what his would've been-wife was talking about. "Parts of my body have been randomly growing for some reason. But I'm sure it doesn't hurt, I'm perfectly fine!"

"How long has this been happening?" Connie inquired.

"Since this morning." Steven meekly replied, causing his face to blow up some more.

"What do the Gems think?" Connie began pressing further.

"Can't reach them right now." Steven answered as his face returned to normal while the rest of his body kept growing. "Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl were asked to serve as prosecutors for a trial on Homeworld, so they decided to make it into a Little Homeschool field trip." As Steven finished, his form returned to its normal size. "It's really nothing to worry about."

"You don't look well." Connie nervously observed. "I think you should see a doctor. I can ask my mom if she'd like to give you a checkup."

"I wouldn't want to bother her." Steven declared. "Besides, I already got a pretty okay idea of what doctors do when I went to see Lars in the hospital after his crash landing."

"Steven, you need to see a medical professional," Connie demanded. "Doesn't matter if my mom can see you or not, you need help."

"Okay, you're right." Steven accepted the opportunity while his face began to deform yet again. "Call me when she's ready."

Thankfully for Steven, Connie's mother had an opening and soon enough, Steven was sitting in her office with Connie by his side.

"You're lucky I had a cancellation today," Priyanka stated as she prepared for work. "Usually, I'm booked weeks in advance."

"Think you'll be able to help Steven out?" Connie asked her mother. "Even if this is some sort of Gem issue?"

"Gem issue or otherwise, he still has a human body, which means we can run tests." Priyanka remarked. "At the very least, we can see if you're suffering from a non-Gem condition, Steven."

"See? Everything will be fine." Connie assured Steven. "I'm sure everything will be fine." As Connie left the examination room, she began dialing on her phone and put it to her ear.

"Okay, give me all you got." Steven said reluctantly to the doctor.

"Alright, let's check for symptoms first." Priyanka said before putting a thermometer in Steven's ear to check his temperature. "Mild fever." She observed before walking away to pick up a stethoscope, returning to find that Steven is starting to once again glow pink. "Glowing pink color to the skin." Priyanka continued as she put the stethoscope to Steven's heart and then his gem. Next, she reached for a blood pressure device to check Steven's blood pressure, but it caused his arm to swell up and break the machine, causing his doctor to fall over in alarm.

However, Priyanka was quick to regain her composure as she looked over the notes she had taken. "Blood pressure is high!" she realized as she got up. "Well, these readings are quite interesting. Tell me, Steven, if you don't mind, who's your GP?"

"GP?" Steven wondered.

"Your general practitioner?" Priyanka explained to her patient. "As in, your regular doctor?"

"I guess you?" Steven answered confusedly. "I never have been to a doctor's appointment before, mostly because I have the Gems, my dad, or my healing spit to rely on whenever I get hurt."

"You're almost seventeen and you have never seen a doctor?!" a shocked Priyanka yelled, causing Steven to once again turn pink and inflate before she tried to calm him down. "I-it's okay, it's okay! I'll talk with your father later, but now we'll just need to run some more tests."

Steven looked nervously at Connie's mom as she walked over to a cupboard, opening it to fetch some hospital gowns. "Get undressed, then we'll help you into a gown." Priyanka ordered.

"Is that one of those blue things that don't cover your butt?" Steven asked embarrassedly before he was thrown a hospital gown.

"Yes, now let's get started." Priyanka declared before snapping on a rubber glove.

"Thank you for your testimony little Peridot." Cat's Eye thanked Squaridot, while licking the back of her hand, as the square-headed Peridot finished her testimony. "Tell us your designation so we may enter it into the records."

"Peridot, Facet-4E3M Cut-7ZY." Squaridot stated as she left the witness's stand and rejoined her classmates. "But everyone calls me Squaridot."

"Squaridot?" Cat's Eye repeated with utter disgust. "Who comes up with these abhorrent names?! I mean, Laz, Zuli, and now Squaridot?!"

"Would you care to get to the point?" Bismuth snarked to the catlike defendant.

"Gladly." Cat's Eye answered before clearing her throat. "Gems of this courtroom, the testimonies we have heard so far have given me enough to make my deduction." She announced to the courtroom. "These Crystal Gems are only kind to other Gems who treat them kindly in exchange. And that DOES, NOT, MAKE, SENSE!" She emphasized her declaration by slamming her fist into her open palm with each word. "If they say that they practice restorative justice, then why didn't they use that kind of justice on my clients here?"

"OBJECTION!" Amethyst yelled. "Girl, did you even see the Human Zoo back in the day?! Holly Blue was treating my quartz peeps like garbage!"

"That is because they were beneath her in the caste system!" Cat's Eye argued with Amethyst. "I swear you droll quartz, did you emerge yesterday or something?!"

"Actually, she was," Pearl answered for the purple Gem. "And you're just making stuff up in the hopes of sounding smart!"

"Do I have 'stupid' written on my gem, you no-good servant?!" Cat's Eye shouted at the white Gem, making sure to whip Pearl's hands for added emphasis. "Let's review what we have learned so far. Those two Lapis Lazulis retaliated violently when ordered to not terraform and their friend came close to poofing them both, yet 2F8D immediately forgot all that when coming to your silly little school!" she analyzed. "That does NOT, MAKE, SENSE!"

"Laz and I argued about going to Little Homeschool!" Zuli objected to Cat's Eye's observation. "An argument you obviously weren't there for-" Before Zuli could finish, she got a whip in the hands by Cat's Eye's riding crop.

"No backtalk!" Cat's Eye exclaimed as she returned to her statement. "Back on subject, then came Miss Squaridot here," she once again cringed at the name while gesturing to Squaridot. "who was given a second chance, yet was poofed without a second thought! That does NOT, MAKE, SENSE!"

"I tried to give Squari a second chance after I released her from her bubble," Peridot began. "but she then just ran off and got herself taken over by Hessonite's warship."

"Ah yes, the swashbuckling vigilante Hessonite." Cat's Eye said smugly. "Tell me, why isn't she here today to give a testimony?"

"Hessonite is off weeding out more of Black Rutile's supporters across many of our former colonies, alongside Citrine." Yellow Diamond answered.

"Speaking of Black Rutile, what if, and a very big if here." Cat's Eye stated. "What if Black Rutile wanted to do better than the Crystal Gems by offering these lost Gems a helping hand?"

"OBJECTION!" Pearl roared and once again pointed straight at Cat's Eye. "That no-good Rutile didn't care one bit for her subordinates! Not only did she let them all get defeated by us, but she abused her Topaz as well!"

"As I had stated earlier with Holly Blue, the Topaz was merely a subordinate to Black Rutile, especially since the Rutile had such a shockingly high status in White Diamond's court." Cat replied.

"Same with my Ruby and Pearl that fused into Rhodonite," Morganite spoke up. "It was only natural that we mistreated those beneath us."

"And on the topic of Pink Diamond's entourage," Cat declared. "allow me to call her former Pearl to the stand."

Rising from her seat, Volleyball separated from her Little Homeschool classmates to walk to the witness's stand, where Cat was awaiting her.

"My dear Pearl, you truly deserved a better Diamond than Pink." Cat cooed to Volleyball while stroking her broken eye, which was now showing the absolute faintest signs of a pupil following her fusion with her white-colored successor at the Reef. "Tell us all this court needs to know sweetie,

"Actually, you can call me Volleyball now." Volleyball corrected the defense attorney. "That's the name Steven gave me."

"VOLLEYBALL?!" Cat's Eye shrieked outrageously at the top of her lungs, quickly returning to her normal condescending tone. "I shouldn't have spoken too soon after complaining about that Peridot." She muttered while pointing a thumb over to Squaridot. "Now tell me, word on the street is that you may know a thing or two about this revolution. Is this true?"

"Yes, it's true." Volleyball revealed remorsefully, shocking the prosecutors and the jury. "Not too long after Era 3 began, I was left wondering what purpose I could still serve now that Pink Diamond was gone, until Black Rutile and Holly Blue Agate approached me with the chance to seek revenge by spying on their enemies."

"That is a bold-faced lie if I ever saw one!" Holly Blue fibbed while beginning to sweat profusely. "I never approached her in the slightest, the poor Pearl came crawling to me in tears, begging, no, pleading that she get some sort of payback for the abuse she suffered!"

"Really laying it on thick Holly." Morganite stoically muttered to the Agate.

"Yes, I can clearly see you lying." Pearl added before she walked over for Volleyball. "But as for you Volley, is it true? Did you really join Black Rutile and spy on us this whole time?"

"I'm truly sorry Pearl, they gave me no other choice." Volleyball apologized, now on the verge of tears. "I was so horrified by how they wanted to fight back against you, that I decided to back out after you and Steven offered to fix my eye." Volleyball then began to sob as she rushed out of the witness's stand and into Pearl's arms. "Please forgive me, I just didn't know any better!"

"It's okay VB, I'm here." Pearl comforted her crying fellow ex-servant. "Just let it all out."

"Wah wah wah, I betrayed your trust!" Cat's Eye mockingly cried. "Please forgive me even though I was allied with a proud sociopath! Oh brother, this era has lost all sense of justice. At least give her a week's punishment, anything."

"Big talk coming from the alleycat who doesn't have a single clue about justice." Pearl growled at Cat while Volleyball's tears started drying and she returned to the jury.

"Big talk coming from a Pearl who wanted to be free despite still essentially serving her Diamond." Cat snapped back at the Pearl. "And on that note, I feel we are ignoring the big Jasper in the room." Biggs Jasper raised her hand. "I wasn't talking to you!" Biggs lowered her hand while Cat kept a stiff upper lip. "But really, I wish to speak of a certain Jasper that has been housed on Earth lately."

"Here we go." Lapis rolled her eyes at whatever outlandish claims the defendant was going to make now.

"You see, the Jasper is just as much of a victim of Pink Diamond's faked death as pretty much everyone on this planet." Cat's Eye proclaimed. "And did the Crystal Gems ever try to extend a hand in friendship and sympathy? NO! They just let her get dragged to the bottom of the ocean in an unstable fusion, fall into an earthquake, rocketed sky-high by that Lapis, and later corrupted! That does-"

"Not make sense, we get it." Garnet interrupted what was essentially Cat's catchphrase at this point. "We tried so many times to help Jasper, but she just kept refusing out of her vendetta against Rose."

"And doesn't anyone find it ironic that Jasper has a burning hatred for a Gem that was her Diamond in disguise?" Cat shook her head with a cheeky smile. "Oh, how cruel fate can be."

"Good grief, how long can this puddytat keep yapping?" Amethyst whispered to Pearl, who just groaned and got back to her book.

As for Steven, Priyanka had gotten to work on examining her unusual patient. However, with each test she made him take, things just kept going wrong. Sticking a tongue depressor in Steven's mouth made him glow pink for the second time this appointment, taking his height stretched his neck up high, and testing his reflexes bubbled the hammer she was using. But it was taking Steven's X-rays that really clued Priyanka in on what was going on.

"So this is an average human skeleton." Priyanka demonstrated the X-ray image of exactly that to Steven before moving on to X-rays of the Crystal Gems. "By comparison, these are X-ray images that the Crystal Gems allowed me to take for research purposes. Their charts look like this."

Due to Gems having bodies of light, only their gemstones could be pictured. And in Amethyst's case, whatever she ate that day could be seen too. The doctor then showed off Steven's own skeleton, which was covered in cracks. "And this is your chart." Priyanka continued. "Definitely the skeleton of a human your age, albeit quite a large amount of fractures in the skull." She pointed out the various cracks that decorated Steven's skull. "Yet despite the injuries, everything is still perfectly aligned. Almost like the injuries healed just as fast as they were gained."

"That's good, right?" Steven nervously asked.

"Well, you've made miraculous recoveries," Priyanka replied. "but that doesn't change the fact that you've clearly been traumatized. You may have recovered physically, but what about mentally?"

"Are you saying there's something wrong with my brain?!" Steven cried as he glowed pink.

"Not wrong!" Priyanka assured Steven while kneeling to his gaze, turning his body back to its normal hue. "It's that adverse childhood experiences, or childhood trauma, can leave a lasting impact on how your body reacts to stress." She explained. "This can affect all kinds of development, social, emotional, and physical. When humans are in crisis, their brains release a hormone called cortisol. It can cause your heart to race, your muscles to tense, among other effects. I wonder if your body is perhaps reacting to the Gem equivalent of cortisol, if any. Steven, can you recall any childhood experiences that particularly stuck with you?"

"I can list so many." Steven stated before he began recounting some traumatic experiences. "It all started when I learned my favorite ice cream was discontinued around the same time I nearly got eaten by a bug monster. Then there were even more monsters that threatened my life, I got stuck in a bubble & nearly drowned, I made a new friend who nearly killed me; which is pretty often, I got turned into a giant pulsating blob of cat heads after an attempt at shapeshifting, got so old I nearly died, saw the Gems die multiple times, I woke up on a spaceship with a black eye, and more recently got tossed off a cliff."

"Steven, this is serious!" Priyanka yelled worriedly.

"That was only some of the earlier stuff!" Steven cried. "You really should've been there when I was tossed off the cliff. Black Rutile was a sociopath and proud of it!"

"I think all these experiences have subjected your body to an almost inhuman level of stress, and it's affected your ability to healthily react to new forms of stress." Priyanka deduced as Steven looked back on more harrowing experiences he's been through, from legitimately traumatizing moments to parts that would at first be seen as mere jokes or accidents. "You've been dealing with genuine threats to your life from such a young age, whether big or small, your body is responding to such minuscule threats like your life is always in danger!"

"But, why am I only swelling up now?!" Steven began fretting as he slowly felt his body change once more.

"Stress can be far less harmful when we have a circle of loved ones who can help you," Priyanka advised, causing Steven to flashback to yesterday evening's failed proposal. "Maybe if you've been drifting away from people who would've supported you, or if a recent experience had felt particularly off-"

Before Priyanka can finish, Steven began trembling in place while bolting from his chair before he began to swell up to possibly the biggest size he's ever been today, to the point of cracking the ceiling with a bash of his head.

"There are just some who don't want to be helped, and we try to respect that!" Pearl kept arguing with Cat's Eye while everyone else in the courtroom awkwardly spectating the event.

"And there are also some who you've forced to change without their consent!" Cat's Eye replied, baring her sharp teeth at the former servant. "Think of it, Black Rutile believed she could be a better ruler because she would take into account the feelings of everyone!"

"Are you sure you're not another one of her spies?!" Pearl asked, folding her arms and turning away from the defendant.

"I couldn't care less about what she's doing, I just think she raises many good points for a maniac!" Cat answered while her stuck-up image began cracking apart more and more, slowly revealing the petulant aristocrat underneath. "For example, in ending an oppressive empire, Steven created an even worse one where all who don't agree with him are deemed outcasts!"

"Steven is simply trying his best!" Pearl yelled back.

"You know, I am so glad that we invited our Homeschool classes, because this is way too much fun for just us three to get involved in." Amethyst whispered to the other Little Homeworld teachers.

"You're right, watching an uppercrust get humiliated puts a real big smile on my face." Bismuth grinned.

"They've been going on for too long." Morganite mumbled as her face was buried in the table. "Can't we just shut them up and reach a verdict already?"

"Well, if you're so loving towards Steven, then where is he now?" Cat's Eye asked one final question. "Did you actually care for him to begin with?"

"That is where you are absolutely wrong Cat." Pearl declared with a smug grin as she presented George Ikari's book to her opponent. "Steven is currently going through some tough times, and we're trying our best to help him thanks to this book from Earth. The author has a son much like Steven who lost his mother too, so he knows what he's talking about." With that, Pearl returned the book to her gem and took a bow. "Court adjourned."

It was here where Cat's Eye finally lost all control and lunged at Pearl with a mighty yowl. Gone was the smug and austere wannabe lawyer, and in with the furious predator going in for the kill.

"I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS!" Cat's Eye shrieked as she wrestled with Pearl and kept trying to chomp at her face. "I AM CAT'S EYE, AND I WILL NOT BE TALKED DOWN TO BY A MERE PEARL!"

"Woo, catfight!" Amethyst cheered before Garnet put a stop to her revelry and prepared for a fight.

"Get ready Gems, we're in for a fight." Garnet declared while summoning her gauntlets, and the other Gems prepared for battle against the feral defendant. But fortunately for them, and unfortunately for Cat, the judge finally decided enough was enough.

"Okay, I've had enough sitting down and watching." Yellow declared fiercely before getting up from her throne and flicking a ball of electricity at Cat's Eye, making yellow lines course through her body and finally poofing her, leaving only her small gemstone to be collected by Yellow Pearl. "Now that that's settled, have we reached a verdict?"

"I believe so." Pearl responded after getting up and dusting herself off before turning to the other Gems. "What shall be decided?"

The Gems in the jury all rose up, their decision clear as day. "We, the jury, hereby declare Holly Blue Agate, Morganite, and Navy guilty as charged. In addition, Cat's Eye shall be tried for public assault of the prosecutors." Squaridot announced on the behalf of her classmates, to the horror of Holly Blue as she and her two compatriots were escorted away by Amethysts. While Morganite and Navy had resigned themselves to their fates, Holly was far less than pleased. In fact, she was furious.

"Get your hands off me, you no-good Kindergarten spawn!" Holly Blue shrieked at the Amethysts dragging her away by the arms before turning to the Crystal Gems with hatred in her eyes. "I hope you're happy Crystal Gems! Era 3 has destroyed this planet!" she yelled at the Gems. "Pretty soon, this planet is going to burn! We're all going to die! The Gem race shall be driven to extinction all because of you!"

As soon as Holly Blue was fully removed from the premises, all was finally quiet in the makeshift courtroom as the trial adjourned. Pearl let out a dramatic sigh as Garnet and Amethyst helped her back to her feet and walked her back to the prosecutor's table.

"Court is usually a lot more funny on TV." Amethyst remarked. "What Cat and Holly tried to do was just sad."

"Still, what if they're right?" Pearl moaned in exhaustion and grief. "What if we are soon to be our kind's downfall? Maybe we should've just ended colonization and left it at that."

"Don't get too down on yourself Miss Pearl." Blue Zircon lent some comforting words to Pearl. "You all tried the best you could, and that's all that should matter."

"Uh, can I go now?" Yellow Zircon shakily inquired to her fellow Gems, still reeling from being publically humiliated at the witness's stand.

"Yeah, you're dismissed." Blue Zircon told her fellow Zircon and turned back to Pearl.

"Yeah, we tried our best with Era 3, kinda like how we're trying our best with Steven." Lapis reiterated the other blue Gem's kind words. "Speaking of which, wonder how he's doing?"

"I'll go call him right now!" Pearl stated eagerly as she unsheathed her phone from her gem and began dialing Steven, but she got no answer. "Darn, no signal on Homeworld." She huffed in frustration. "Well, I hope he's doing fine."

Little did Pearl know, there was more than one reason why as to why Steven was unable to reach her, that reason being he was so stressed out, he was swelling up to a massive size.

As Dr. Laurie walked past the office Steven was in with a cup of coffee, he took one look at the giant pink boy, then back at his mug before dumping its contents into a nearby drinking fountain while Connie raced back to the office to aid her friend.

"Mom, what's happening?!" Connie asked her mother while they watched the inflating Steven fill up most of the doctor's office.

"I'm not sure dear, I just asked if he had any stressful experiences lately." Priyanka answered, trying to remain as calm in a crisis as possible while other doctors huddle around the window to watch what was happening, along with a man in sunglasses who seemed to blend in with the crowd.

"Steven, you don't think?" Connie then asked Steven.

"It's not you Connie, it's everything that's been going down lately!" Steven yelled as he grew larger and larger with every second.

"What is he talking about?" Priyanka asked, glaring at Connie.

"You haven't told your mom yet?!" Steven yelled.

"Told me what?!" Priyanka started yelling as well.

"It's not your fault Connie!" Steven tried to assure Connie amidst his growing stress. "But I still think you need to leave!"

"I refuse to leave your side!" Connie's mom fiercely declared. "This is a medical emergency!"

"Hey, you know one of us can take over!" one of the doctors watching Steven called from outside.

"No, he needs to be alone!" Connie stated. "I think anyone else being in here with him is making things worse!"

When Steven's height increased to the point of ripping his hospital gown, breaking the ceiling over him, and causing alarms to sound, the doctors took it as their cue to leave. "Point taken." That same doctor who suggested one of them take care of Steven realized before rushing away.

"Oh no!" Steven was in full-on panic mode now. If he grew any larger, the hospital would surely be destroyed. "Please, just go!"

"Steven!" Connie yelled sorrowfully.

"I just…" Steven began to cry before starting to get angry. "I CAN'T BE AROUND YOU RIGHT NOW!" The Maheswarans braced for impact as Steven's screaming broke the window behind them when suddenly, Greg came barging into the office.

"Steven!" Greg called his son's name while Connie and Priyanka turned to notice him.

"Dad?!" Steven exclaimed while finally beginning to settle down at the sight of his father.

"I'm here for you kiddo!" Greg declared as he ran up to his giant son, turning to the Maheswarans who took it as their cue to leave the area as well.

"Come on Mom, let's give them some space." Connie said to her mother as they abdicated the office.

"Alright." Priyanka agreed and took her daughter's hand while Greg took Steven's side.

"How did you know I was here?" Steven asked Greg.

"Connie called me an hour ago." Greg answered comfortingly. "Plus, I was the only one she could reach since she told me the Gems were off in space today."

"Connie?" Steven called for his friend when she and her mother were outside. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Connie beamed and spoke to him through the broken window. "I'll come when you're ready."

"I'm so sorry Steven." Greg apologized to Steven. "If I had known, I definitely would've been a big help."

"It's alright Dad," Steven sighed. "you were super busy and I didn't know what was going on."

"Come on Steven, talk to me," Greg suggested. "Just you and me, father to son."

"I, well, um," Steven stammered before tears began welling up in his eyes again. "I tried proposing to Connie!"

"You what?!" Greg yelped in alarm. "Steven, aren't you a little too young to think about marriage right now?"

"I know." Steven kept on crying. "That's one of the reasons why she said no."

"Oh, Steven." Greg sighed.

"My body, it keeps reacting like it's always the end of the world." Steven kept on complaining tearfully. "I think I've nearly witnessed the end of the world so many times now, that everything that goes wrong for me just feels that extreme! I should be feeling happy these days, Earth is at peace and it's Era 3, but Black Rutile is still out there saying I'm a bad person and I'm swelling up over all these third-era problems! What do I do now?! How do I move on after every horrible thing that's happened to me?! How can I still live my life when every day it feels like I'm going to die?!"

Despite Steven being overcome with trauma to the point of sobbing, Greg was there to lend a hand like he always did. "It's going to be alright Schtu-ball." He said while holding his son's giant finger. "I'm here for you till the end of the line."

At long last, Steven finally calmed down and began to regress to his normal size, and he only had one request for Greg. "I just want to go home."

"You bet." Greg obliged, and Steven began to fetch his clothes while Connie and Priyanka stepped back into the office. "So, what's up doc?"

"This has certainly been an eventful appointment," Priyanka stated shakily. "Real eye-opener. As I'm sure your son has already told you, he has been through more stress than is normal for a human. I suggest finding ways to monitor these breakdowns."

"I'll see what I can do." Greg nodded while Steven returned to his side fully dressed when Connie gave Steven a big hug.

Outside the office, the doctor in the sunglasses from earlier peeked from behind a corner and spoke into an earpiece. "Giant boy crisis averted." He spoke in a deep voice to someone on the other end. "Yes sir, retrieving copies of the Gems' X-ray scans as we speak." Looking around to see if anyone had caught him, the man then took off his doctor's coat to reveal a black suit underneath and walked away with no one the wiser.

That night, Steven had been returned home and taken to bed, where Greg had prepared him a warm cup of tea and a sympathetic ear to his son's plight.

"I guess I thought I could follow Connie to college." Steven explained to his dad while sipping the tea. "Like, if we got married, I'd know what to do with myself for once. But turns out I still gotta figure everything out on my own."

"Cut yourself some slack, kiddo." Greg smiled earnestly. "It's okay to be worried and make mistakes when figuring out what to do with life, nothing unusual. Okay, maybe turning pink and the swelling is kind of unusual, but I'm sure the Gems will know what to do. And if you want to be a giant boy, I can lend you the carwash to take a shower in."

"Yeah, that's the thing." Steven revealed calmly. "I haven't told the Gems everything yet because I don't want them to worry so much, just like the old days when I was just some little kid who was way over his head." That was when he made a realization and spat out his tea. "Wait Dad, your tour!"

"Don't worry about me." Greg assured his son. "Shep and Sadie will be fine on their own. Just get some rest Steven; you can't just solve every problem in one night. Speaking of the Gems, where are they?"

Just then, the father and son heard the Warp Pad activate from Steven's conservatory, and the Crystal Gems marched into his room utterly exhausted from the trial they had just returned from.

"If I meet another Gem like Cat's Eye ever again, I swear I'm going to freak!" Pearl yelled with her hands buried in her face when she noticed Steven and Greg in the same room. "Oh, good evening you two. How was your day?"

"Nothing really special you guys." Steven fibbed. "Nothing at all."

So ends Growing Pains. Have to say, this might be one of the longest chapters of Alternate Universe yet, probably because of the B-plot. How hateable did you think I made Cat's Eye? I specifically wrote her with Cruella de Vil and Franziska von Karma in mind. And speaking of despicable characters, next chapter has Steven facing quite possibly his greatest challenge yet: making Kevin a better person. Oh, this should be fun.

#steven universe #steven universe future #fanfiction #steven universe alternate future #steven quartz universe #garnet #amethyst #pearl #connie maheswaran #priyanka maheswaran #greg universe #lapis lazuli #peridot #bismuth #holly blue agate #morganite #navy #yellow diamond

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albertasunrise · 4 years ago

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These Violent Delights - Chapter 4

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Summary: You notice that a mysterious, handsome man has moved into the apartment across from you. You can’t help but introduce yourself but how will your boyfriend react to your new-found friend?

Warning/Content: Mature, Angst, Blood and Injury, Pregnancy

Paring: Marcus Pike / Female Reader

‘What about Molly?’ You asked as the two of you walked hand in hand along the highstreet.

‘Oh no,’ Replied Marcus as he shook his head ‘I had a nasty breakup with a girl called Molly.’

‘Ugh, are we ever going to find a name?’ You grumbled as you scraped a hand over your tired face ‘We have like two weeks till the baby comes and we’ve not even agreed on one name!’

‘We’ll get there.’ Said Marcus softly as he threw his arm around your shoulders so he could pull you close 'We'll know it where we hear it.'

You’d taken the day to shop for the last few bits you needed for the baby. You’d been fortunate when throwing your baby shower that so many of the items you needed were gifted to you but you still required a crib and a few other essentials. You looked up at Marcus and smiled, giggling when he kissed the tip of your nose. You felt huge now. Your back ached and your feet were so swollen that you now lived in your Vans. You were looking forward to the arrival of this little one. Your attention was drawn to Marcus again when his body went rigid against yours. Looking up you saw a shocked expression plastered across his face and you followed his line of sight, your eyes settling on a dark-haired woman and a blonde man.

‘Agent Pike.’ Said the man as he grinned at the two of you ‘How lovely to see you!’

‘Jane.’ He replied, his tone a little irritated ‘Lisbon.’ He finished as he nodded at the woman.

‘And who is this radiant creature?’ Asked Jane as he studied you, focusing predominately on your swollen belly.

‘Jane, Lisbon this is my partner,’ He answered, telling them your name ‘I worked with them both back in Texas.’ He finished, his grip on your shoulder tightening a little.

‘Congratulations’ Said Lisbon as she pointed at your bump ‘When’s it due?’

‘Two weeks.’ You replied happily as you affectionately rubbed your belly.

‘Wow not long!’ She replied, her eyes growing wide as she looked at Marcus and then back at you ‘You both must be so excited.’

‘We are.’ He replied, his tone softening when he spoke to her.

‘Well, I’m so happy for you Marcus.’ She replied, giving him a warm smile.

‘Thanks, Teresa.’ He replied, feeling you stiffen next to him ‘What are you doing in DC?’ He asked, changing the subject.

‘We’re actually here for a small holiday.’ She replied as she looked up at Jane and smiled ‘We're going back tomorrow.’

‘Oh right.’ Replied Marcus, nodding with feigned interest.

‘We should all go out for dinner this evening!’ Said Jane suddenly, taking you both by surprise.

‘Oh I don’t know-‘

‘Come on Pike please.’ Said Jane in a tone that one could almost believe to be genuine ‘Would be lovely to get to know the woman who stole your heart.’

You both shared an awkward look before somewhat reluctantly agreeing. After exchanging the time and place that you were to meet them you went about your business, dreading the dinner later with the woman who’d broken Marcus’ heart. You’d managed to get the last few items you needed before making it back to the new apartment that you and Marcus had moved into a month back. You’d needed another room for the baby and after deciding that you didn’t want to live in your old apartment with all its negative memories, you found a new place and moved.

‘Why did we agree to this?’ You groaned as you rubbed your aching belly.

‘I have been asking myself that all afternoon.’ He replied as he placed a gentle kiss on your lips ‘We can cancel if you want?’

‘No, we can’t you.’ You replied, giving him a grim look ‘That would be rude.’

‘I swear you're more Canadian than you are American.’ He joked as he kissed your temple ‘You ready to go?’

You nodded, smiling at him as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze and let you out the door. The restaurant that Jane had picked was a mere five-minute walk from your apartment, much to your delight but you were taken aback by how fancy the place was. The server led you to the table where Lisbon and Jane were waiting for you, genuine smiles on their faces as you both sat down across from them. Lisbon was wearing a simple black dress that complimented her figure beautifully and a small part of you resented her for how good she looked. Jane wore a simple navy blue suit and a white button-up, the colours complimenting the colour of his eyes perfectly.

‘I’m so glad you both came.’ Said Lisbon as she got up to give you both a hug and you felt yourself relax a little from the friendly gesture.

The server returned a few minutes later to take your drinks order and you were over the moon to learn that they had an alcohol free Gin. You’d missed Gin. When he brought the drinks he then took your food selections and left, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.

‘So how did you two meet?’ Asked Lisbon with an awkwardness in her tone.

‘I moved into the apartment across the hall from her.’ The agent started, holding your hand under the table ‘She turned up at my door with a box full of cookies, I invited her in for a glass of wine and we got to talking.’

‘You were with someone at the time though weren’t you?’ Said Jane, his eyes studying your body language closely ‘Engaged I’d say. You met Marcus and left your fiancé for him.’

‘Actually, Marcus saved me from him.’ You answered abruptly, venom dripping from every word ‘He regularly beat me and raped me. One night after a particularly bad session from him I’d had enough and I left him. Marcus cleaned me up and took me to a friend's, after a few months of talking as friends I asked him out for drinks which ended in him getting stabbed by said ex.’

Jane’s jaw dropped open and you felt a small sense of accomplishment wash over you from being able to render the man speechless. Marcus gave your hand a squeeze as he placed a soft kiss on your temple but your eyes never left the blonde man.

‘How long have you been together?’ Asked Lisbon in an obvious attempt to change the subject after flashing Jane an angry look.

‘Um coming up to 11 months.’ You replied, your expression softening when you spoke to her.

‘Wow so the baby was-‘

‘A happy accident.’ Interrupted Pike as he placed his hand on your bump.

‘Birth control failed… Eight and a half months later and I’m a whale.’ You laughed, grinning at Pike as he looked at you lovingly.

‘Well, I really am so happy for you both.’ She stated, reaching over to squeeze your arm that rested on the table ‘He’s one of the kindest men I know. You seem perfect for each other.’

Your conversation was interrupted by your food arriving and you licked your lips at the sight of your food. You’d ordered the Mac and Cheese, having gone cheese mad over the past few weeks much to Marcus’ delight.

‘So do you know the sex?’ Asked Jane, his question surprising you.

‘Yeah, it’s a girl.’ You replied, reigning in your dislike for the man.

‘Oh, I bet Marcus was over the moon about that.’ Said Lisbon as she beamed at you both.

‘That he was.’ You chuckled as you shovelled a large mouthful of pasta into your mouth.

‘Picked a name?’ She asked as she pushed a tomato around her plate.

‘No.’ Marcus replied, scratching his chin as you let out a small sigh ‘We’re struggling to find a name with both like.’

‘Leia apparently is too sad.’ You joked, smirking when Lisbon snorted.

‘I think I have to agree with Pike on that one.’ She conceded, giving you a sympathetic grin ‘I’ve always liked the name, Isabella.’ Said Lisbon as she forked some chicken into her mouth.

Your breath hitched at the name, tears forming in your eyes as you tried not to show how much you loved it. Marcus gave you a look and you knew he’d read you like a book, so had Jane.

‘I think she likes that name, Teresa.’ He said as he nudged her with his elbow.

‘Then that’s what you should call her!’ She exclaimed, her face lighting up.

‘No, it's yours.’

‘Don’t be silly.’ She said as she waved her hand at you ‘It’s just one I like. I’ve never been one to have my kid's names planned out.’

You looked at Marcus let out a small sob. He chuckled at your reaction and gave you a small kiss before returning his attention to the couple across from them.

‘Who knew we’d go to dinner with my ex and she’d pick our daughters name for us.’ He joked as he took a swig from his beer.

The night went pretty smoothly after that. Jane had become more tolerable as the evening went on and you soon found yourselves talking as if you were old friends. You’d been over the moon when you had learned that they had sticky toffee pudding on the menu and after very little arm twisting from Marcus, he convinced you to pig out. Standing outside the restaurant you talked for a short while longer before learning that their hotel was on the same street as your apartment building. Walking together you couldn’t help but smile at how clear the sky was that evening, it was a rare treat indeed to be able to see any stars. Turning the corner that led to your apartment building you squinted when a car parked at the side of the road turned on his lights.

‘Well we’re just across the street,’ Said Marcus as he wrapped his arm around you ‘Thank you both for a lovely evening. Genuinely.’

‘It was lovely to see you again and lovely to meet you!’ Said Lisbon gleefully ‘You have my number. I want to see pictures of the baby when she comes! The least I get for helping you pick a name surely?’ She finished as she gave you a wink.

‘I’m sure we can do that.’ You replied as you poked your tongue out a little.

‘Well good night.’ Said Marcus, pulling you towards the crossing and pressing the button.

Crossing the street, you looked up at your love as he pulled you into a soft kiss, squealing with pure glee. Then everything went black. Marcus was roughly thrown across the street, his head hitting the tarmac hard and rendering him useless. He rolled his head to see you laying there unconscious, blood running down your face. He screamed your name but couldn’t move, the pain too much when he tried. Lisbon was at your side in a heartbeat, checking your pulse as Jane called an ambulance before running to Marcus’ aid.

‘Stay still Pike.’ He urged when the agent tried in vain to get up.

‘Is she- is…’ He sobbed, his eyes fixed on you.

‘She’s going to be fine but you need to stay still.’ He said, his tone firm as he held Pike's shoulders ‘You were hit by a car.’

The guttural scream that erupted from Marcus made Jane’s blood run cold. It was a sound that was filled with pain and despair and the consultant felt helpless, not knowing how to comfort him. The ambulance’s arrived a few minutes later along with two squad cars, Jane quickly firing off the registration of the vehicle to one of the officers. Marcus never took his eyes off of you, even when they strapped him to a full bodyboard and wheeled him to the ambulance. Patrick went with Marcus and Lisbon went with you, her heart in her throat as she watched them work on you.

‘Is the baby going to be okay?’ She asked, her hand firmly gripping yours.

‘They’ll do what they can to help them both.’ Was the reply she got and it brought her no comfort.

Jane and Lisbon sat patiently for news of you and Marcus, neither one able to believe the turn of events. She rested her head on Jane’s shoulder as she watched the tv in the corner.

‘He doesn't deserve this.’ She said numbly, her eyes fixed on the moving picture but not paying attention to what was going on.

‘No he doesn’t.’ Replied Jane as he kissed the top of her head.

‘Are you here for Marcus Pike?’ Came a voice, a young female doctor standing just across from them.

‘Yes.’ Lisbon replied, informing the doctor that they were there for you also.

‘Well he is out of surgery and he’s stable.’ She stated ‘He's suffered a severely broken leg which required some major work, a punctured lung and a concussion.’ She continued, giving them a grim look ‘He’s very lucky.’

Lisbon asked about you only to be told that you were still in surgery and that she had no news ‘A nurse will fetch you when Mr Pike is out of recovery.’

The both of them nodded, Jane feeling becoming awfully conscious that Pike would probably not want to see him. He decided then that he would wait in the waiting room whilst Teresa went to see the agent, not wanting to distress Marcus more than he already was. Teresa found Marcus surprisingly alert when she was taken to him, noting the anguish in his eyes as he stared numbly at the window across from his bed.

‘Hey.’ She said softly, stopping beside him ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Like I was hit by a car.’ He growled, his tone making her flinch.

‘I called in some favours with the bureau.’ She started, grabbing Marcus’ attention ‘The car belonged to a Stephen Robinson. Liam’s brother.’

‘That son of a bitch. If I ever get my hands on him I swear I’ll-‘

‘Hey, this isn’t going to help.’ She soothed, placing her hand on his and giving it a gentle squeeze ‘Let’s just focus on you, her and the baby okay.’

He nodded, knowing that she was right. Giving her a weak smile, he nodded in appreciation before glancing up at the door as someone entered.

‘Please tell me you have news.’ He pleaded, his voice cracking.

‘She’s out of surgery.’ He started, his expression impossible to read ‘She was lucky.’ He continued ‘She and the baby are both going to be fine.’

Marcus sobbed openly, thanking the doctor over and over.

‘We had to perform an emergency c-section as the baby was in distress but she’s healthy. No issues despite being 2 weeks early.’ He stated as he placed a friendly hand on the agent's arm.

‘When can I see them?’ He asked, his eyes hopeful.

‘I will get a nurse to take you.’ He said kindly ‘But you need to rest so not too long with her.’ He finished as he winked at the younger man 'You can see your partner in the morning when she's a little more rested. She's had a hell of a night.'

True to his word, a nurse was by a few minutes later and with the help of Lisbon, they managed to lower Marcus into the wheelchair she’d brought with her. Just as she was about to leave Marcus looked at Teresa.

‘Did you want to come?’ He asked, taking Lisbon by surprise.

‘Yeah, I would.’ She replied, flashing him a big grin.

They were taken into a room that was filled with strategically placed clear cots, most containing infants adorned with either pink or blue hats. When they came to a stop beside one that read, Baby Pike, his heart almost stopped. Tears forming again as he looked upon the face of his newborn daughter.

‘Would you like to hold her?’ Asked the nurse, smiling when Marcus nodded his head eagerly.

Carefully, she picked her up and lay her in his arms, giving him a few tips on how to hold her. He almost burst when she opened her eyes, staring straight back at him with what he could have sworn was recognition in her eyes. He just gazed at her for a while, grinning when her tiny hand grasped his finger.

‘She’s beautiful Marcus.’ Said Lisbon softly, her heart melting at the sight of him with his daughter in his arms.

'Yeah.' He said softly 'Just like her mother.'

‘Does she have a name yet?’ Asked the nurse as she stepped closer to the agent.

‘Isabella.’ He replied before placing a kiss on her forehead 'My little Isabella.'

‘Right we need to get you back or Dr Lane will have my head.’ Joked the nurse, leaning over to take Isabella from him.

‘I’ll see you soon baby girl.’ He said as he stroked her tiny cheek ‘I love you so much.’ He finished as he kissed her brow.

Marcus was allowed to see you in the morning, surprised to find you in better shape than he was. The cut on your head was a lot small than he had expected and was now framed with a black bruise. The doctor informed you both that you would likely be discharged on the same day, much to your shared relief. Lisbon and Jane had offered to stay behind to help but you’d both declined, instead Lydia had offered to come and stay a while whilst the two of you recovered. It had been a relief when you’d finally been allowed to go home, Joe from Marcus’ office picking the three of you up from the hospital with a mixed expression on his face.

‘Thanks for your help, Liddy.’ You said as she placed down a steaming cup of decaf coffee in front of you.

‘Hey, you guys have been through hell!.’ She replied, giving you both a sympathetic smile ‘Besides, I love baby cuddles.’

‘Well, it’s my turn right now.’ Joked Marcus as he held Isabella against his chest.

‘Baby hogger.’ She grumbled, a wicked smile crossing her lips.

‘Well, it’s not like I can do much else.’ He retorted, motioning to his leg cast ‘I cannot wait till this damn thing comes off. My left itches like crazy.’

‘I can’t wait to sneeze and not worry about peeing myself.’ You joked, everyone erupting into a fit of laughter which Marcus instantly regretted ‘I’m afraid you’re going to be pretty useless for a while though Hunny. They had to do a fair amount of work on your leg.’

‘And yet it’s my ribs that hurt the most.’ He grumbled, his cheek resting against the top of Isabella’s head.

‘They won’t take too long to heal.’ You replied, giving him a sympathetic smile ‘I really did get off pretty lucky. Lisbon said you flew.’

‘Felt like I did too!’

‘Well, I will be around for as long as you need me.’ Said Lydia, as she sat herself down in the decorative armchair opposite you ‘Perks of working remotely.’

‘God we’d be lost without you, Liddy.’

‘I know.’ She grinned, giving you a wink.

4 months later…

‘Oh, it feels good to walk on my own two feet again.’ Beamed Marcus, spreading his legs out across the couch.

‘I bet.’ You replied as you bounced Isabella on your hip.

She started to scream and your face grimaced at the sudden assault on your eardrums. Marcus was up in a jiffy, grabbing a bottle from the fridge and placing it in the warmer before taking his grouchy daughter from you.

‘Someone’s hungry.’ He cooed as he bounced her in his arms, her cries instantly stopping as she grinned at him.

‘I swear she hates me.’ You groaned, scrubbing a hand over your face.

‘She doesn't hate you.’ He replied as he kissed you sweetly ‘I’m just her favourite.’ He finished as he gave you a wicked grin.

The bottle warmer dinged to let both you know it was ready. Grabbing the bottle, Marcus brought it to his daughter's lips and giggled as her eyes widened as she sucked at the bottled eagerly.

‘Definitely hungry.’ He concluded, watching in awe as she drained the bottle dry.

You threw a cloth over his shoulder which he thanked you for and then proceeded to burp her, praising when she let out a teeny belch. Her eyes rolled around in their sockets as she fought off sleep, staring back at you with hooded eyes before Marcus shifted her in his arms.

‘Aw, my little milk dunk angel.’ He cooed as he looked at you with pure happiness plastered across his face.

Marcus was a natural father. He’d been so frustrated initially at how little he was able to do so as soon as he was able to stand for long periods of time, he was all over whatever he could. You adored watching him with her, the two of them thick as thieves and you knew that she was going to be a daddy’s girl when she was older.

‘God I want more.’ He said suddenly, taking you by surprise.

‘How many more?’ You asked, watching as he placed soft kisses on his daughters head.

‘As many as you’ll give me.’ He finished, his expression one of utter contentment.

‘Okay.’ You nod, grinning when he beamed back at you ‘But let me recover from this one first yeah?’ You finished as you kissed him softly, resting your head on his shoulder.

‘So another month yeah?’ He asks, giving you the goofiest grin you’d ever seen.

#Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike fanfiction #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #mentalist fanfiction #the mentalist #Pedro Pascal fanfiction #Pedro Pascal characters #pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro pascal #Patrick Jane #teresa lisbon

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lightneverfades · 4 years ago

Text

That Damned Gazebo

Frostiron Holiday Wishes Challenge ❆ 🎅🎄 Prompt by @snarkyship Fic written by @worstloki Note: AH! So sorry this is a late post, tumblr messed up and I didn’t receive this on Xmas day! Ah! Thank you @worstloki for resending! TwT <3333

Wish (Prompt/Idea): Human/no powers AU. Sort-of-enemies to friends to lovers.Tony rents this house/bungalow by the sea for the summer, with a kind of private beach where there is also a cute gazebo. Only that the gazebo is exactly halfway with the other property (by some mistake?). And the tenant of the neighbour bungalow is Loki, who's not so keen on sharing. So Loki&Tony will start a "war" to gain possession of the gazebo, doing their worst using the excuse of "this is my half, I can use it as I want". ((Optional: there is a table right in the middle, so at the beginning they sit at their own side glaring at each other, before starting deploying more convoluted tactics)).Mischief after mischief, they will start to know each other and of course everything will end with one of them inviting the other to their half for a romantic dinner and they'll end up sharing more than the gazebo <3((I hope it's enough clear and but also not too detailed??))

Stupid cute bungalow. Stupid cute gazebo. Stupid cute neighbour.

All Tony wanted was a vacation; a break from running a business and having to argue for his ideas to get accepted by the marketing teams and just some time to lay low and relax.

All Loki wanted was a break from being upstaged in his section of the family business by his brother; some time off to cool down and de-stress and lay low and relax.

But instead only half their regular favourite beach house was available no matter how much cash they offered to throw at the real estate company renting it out. Could they have picked a different place to stay? Maybe. But none of the other decent rentables this far west have a gazebo, and they would have nowhere to sit alone and admire the waves from afar if they took a place without one.

And, of course, that’s where it all started— that gazebo.

That damned gazebo.

———

Day 1

Tony Stark, genius, entrepreneur, philanthropist, makes his way unsteadily down the sandy-grassy slope from the bungalow to the beach, arms filled with an excessive amount of floating supplies, a personalized towel, sunglasses only half on, a fun-sized bottle of the finest sun lotion, a laptop because he may leave the stock market but the stock market may not leave him, a black Prada shirt over khaki Hawaiian shorts, a speaker for music, hot-rod red flip flops, a bag of snacks, a thin multipurpose blanket, and a polaroid.

He almost slips a few times on his way down, and he thinks he sees a crab and swears, but he does make it down to the brilliant white-sand beach of Malibu unharmed.

His plan is simple: spend the day in the shade of the wooden gazebo, sneak a peek at how his business is holding up, check his emails, play some Tetris, sunbathe around noon when the sun is highest, back under the shelter till the sun starts going down, into the water for some splashing, drying off as the sun sets, listen to some tunes while laying under the stars for a while.

Just a regular day off at his favourite beach.

He walks to the shaded gazebo area and draws the curtain to enter, and dumps the entire contents within his arms over the table in the center. He turns to open up the curtains on all sides but is interrupted by an ahem.

Tony turns, and, in the curtained darkness, makes out the figure of a person.

He must be the one who booked out the other half of the house, Tony thinks, eying the stranger sitting at the opposite end of the table with only a book and bottle of water. Show-off minimalists, Tony thinks, saltily.

“I would prefer if you didn’t open those,” he says, and Tony doesn’t recognize the accent, but there definitely is one. Maybe it’s a blend?

“But what’s the point of sitting under a gazebo on a beach if you can’t see the view?” Tony asks, pulling one open, letting in some light.

The man practically hisses at Tony for doing it, which, okay, weird, but that’s normal when you’re assaulted with bright light and have been sitting in the dark.

“How were you reading in the dark anyway? Don’t you know it’s bad for your eyes?”

“I assure you I was able to read just fine.”

“Yeah… I’m opening the rest of these too…” Tony says, reaching for the curtain by the other side.

“Not if you wish to share this table, you won’t,” the man threatens.

“Are you… trying to bribe me?” Tony asks, shocked, because who does this guy think he is?

“Compromise with,” the man has the gall to say. “And with table space, yes,” and Tony sputters. What can he even say to this. He’s here for a vacation, not to argue with strangers who are taking up half the gazebo space that should be his!

“Half,” Tony suggests, because he will not sit in the dark all day and miss out on his beach-view just so he gets to use the table. “You get half of this space, and I get the other half, and we can do whatever we want on our sides.”

The man sighs. “Fine. That sounds fair.”

The two of them spend the entire rest of the day sitting at opposite sides of the table pretending they’re not intentionally glaring and making crazy faces and trying to telepathically get rid of the other when they’re not looking.

Tony doesn’t comment on how the man barely gets any reading done and the man in turn doesn’t comment on how much equipment Tony brought down that he doesn’t use at any point in favour of using the laptop to retain his spot under the gazebo.

Schedule be damned, Tony is going to enjoy his vacation, and that means enjoying his duplex bungalow, even if someone else is renting half, and enjoying his gazebo that may be in-between the properties and they both may be paying for but is 100% actually his.

They wait each other out, and both head up to their houses at the same time; around midnight.

———

Day 2

Loki wakes at his usual time, showers, pointedly gets dressed into anything but the black shirt he has that matches what the man had on yesterday, and grabs his book before he heads down to the beach.

Having to share the same table was, simply put, incredibly awkward, but Loki has faith in it not happening again. He’s just going to make his way down to the gazebo and spend the day relaxing and rereading his favourite series without a pretentious-bearded neighbour showing up and making things weird.

“YOU!” Loki hears, and turns to find the same man from yesterday rushing down the slope towards him, “WHY ARE YOU UP AT THIS TIME?!”

Loki takes in the sight of the man dressed in a half-buttoned-up hawaiian shirt and pajama pants, with only a laptop and towel in hand, hair clearly fresh from bed, and, before he thinks better of it, counters eloquently with, “why are you half dressed?”

The man waves his arms in frustration, “I was tired! And in a rush! You don’t get to judge me, you’re the other f*ck who woke up this early!”

“I… normally get up this early…” Loki informs him, backing away slowly.

He can’t believe he’s going to have to deal with this guy again.

At least his sweatshirt has a green hood so he can block the guy out of his sight, right? He won’t spend the entire day rereading paragraphs because the man at the other end of the table is making him feel anxious, right? Surely the man is bringing the towel to lay in the sand which means he won’t be needing the gazebo, right?

Loki literally booked this bungalow because it’s in Malibu, and no one pays for a place like this in Malibu when you can rent a lower quality place and spend the money on beach parties and drinks. The fact that it’s far enough from home to make him feel safer was a bonus, but he really just wanted to be alone for a few days.

Loki takes a seat, and crosses one leg over the other, getting comfy so he can lean the book on the table. He tries not to get annoyed that the curtains are still parted halfway. He wouldn’t mind if the ones on his side were open too, but at this point he’s not acquiescing a point to the stranger.

The man pulls the wooden chair out and sits down opposite him.

Of course he does.

Why wouldn’t he.

“So you’re really going to keep reading in the dark?” he says, flipping open his laptop.

“Yep, and that suits me just fine, thank you,” Loki answers neutrally.

“Does my no-light-reading-neighbour have a name?”

“Do you?”

“Tony.”

“Loki.”

“Nice to meet you, Loki,”

“Thank you.”

Loki uses his bookmark to flip to his page, and starts reading. He will not get distracted by this Tony. It’s totally normal to share this table. It’s not huge, but it’s built for at least six, so there’s space. Maybe not enough to lay on, but it’s enough distance to ignore the clicking of Tony’s keyboard as he frantically presses keys.

Loki is two hours into enjoying his reading time, and he thinks he was doing well.

He’d smiled every time Tony yawned because with eye-rubbing and deep sighs that man was not used to getting up early, but he’d actually gotten through nearly three chapters without incident.

Then, the infuriating man had plunked a speaker onto the table and started playing AC/DC.

Now he’s reread this one line at least fourteen times and still doesn’t know what the red-head was doing with Jon.

“Why?” Loki asks, “Why must you do this? You can see me reading, you’re blocking out the distant sound of waves hitting the shore, it’s not even at a decent volume, so, why?!”

“Sorry, what was that?” Tony answers, “Did you say something? Because I couldn’t hear you over the music, but it sounded like you had an issue with what I was doing on my side.”

“Your music is not staying on your side!” Loki argues, but only receives a shrug and an increase in volume.

He presses his lips together.

Fine. If you’re going to be petty about this, then I can too.

Under the table, Loki kicks Tony.

He hasn’t got shoes on, but he’s always had a knack for aiming very well, and Tony’s whimper (?) (it’s hard to tell with the music so loud) assures him he hit the shin bone well enough.

By the time Tony is done cradling his leg and looks up at Loki with a mix of anger/betrayal, Loki is already reading again, the perfect image of serenity.

Loki tries not to laugh as Tony discovers his legs are not long enough to kick back.

———

Day 3

Tony didn’t bother trying to wake up before Loki this time.

He went at his own pace, and remembered to change out of the pajamas, brushed his hair, had coffee, and took the time to make himself a few sandwiches to enjoy through the day.

Yesterday he even went for a quick swim around ten at night and headed straight back up to his side of the bungalow, because he’s a responsible adult who doesn’t need to out-do a stranger’s sleep-schedule. Or leg-length. Or laugh.

It isn’t a competition or anything.

By the time he makes it down to the beach, he finds Loki sitting under the gazebo, alone, with all the curtains tied open.

He’s also... wearing a black Prada shirt which matches the one Tony threw on this morning?? What?! Taking up half the space on his side of the table with 1 (one) bottle of water wasn’t enough, he also has to taunt him by wearing the exact same thing?!

He storms to his side of the gazebo and slams his palms down, taking satisfaction in the fact that Loki was startled and drops his book onto the table. Tony hopes he’s lost the page he was on.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Hello, neighbour,” Loki greets, gingerly picking up his book again and giving a hesitant smile. “I didn’t realise you would be wearing the same shirt again, but I was hoping we could get off on a different foot today?”

Huh, well, would ya look at that, Tony thinks, I actually won. The sucker is gonna admit I’m too much and wave the white flag.

“That... actually sounds great,” Tony answers with his award-winning client-smile, sitting down opposite him. “This whole thing with splitting the table and curtains in half was a bit ridiculou—”

Tony yelps and stands up and starts frantically rubbing his hand over his butt which is stinging— he looks down at his seat and sees the culprit —a crab, menacing in all it’s crabby glory.

“Are you... okay?” Loki asks, far too confused, far too innocently, far too worried for it to be genuine, “what’s wrong?”

Tony, outraged, yells at Loki, “DID YOU FRICKIN PUT A CRAB IN MY SEAT?!”

“I— what?”

“WHO THE F*CK CALLS A PARLEY AND CRABS SOMEONE?!”

“No! I didn’t— are you okay??” Loki says, and he’s gotten up and rushing over and...okay, MAYBE he didn’t mastermind the crab.

“NO, I AM NOT, BUT THANK YOU FOR ASKING,” Tony screams, backing away from Loki, and running towards his bungalow.

Running in sand is hard, but Tony discovers it’s much harder when your butt is stinging.

———

Loki… did not put a crab on Tony’s seat.

He’d honestly wanted to draw up a truce, maybe have an actual conversation with Tony, and he even brought a towel and wore a change of clothes underneath in the event that the man wanted to go for a swim and wouldn’t mind if Loki joined.

He’d even brought snacks to share.

But now he feels bad.

Had kicking him under the table every time Tony had put the volume too loud or managed to slide low enough to kick him back or played We're Taking the Hobbits to Isengard been bad? Had it been too much? Why else would Tony assume he’d actually try and hurt him?

The glare-offs had just been fun, faces when they thought the other couldn’t see wasn’t bad-intentioned, the kicking hadn’t meant to injure. Loki had thought they were getting along. Perhaps he had misunderstood? Perhaps the other had not felt they were fun little pranks?

He owes Tony an apology.

———

Tony has been icing his butt for an hour. If he had any duct tape, he would’ve duct taped the peas to his butt.

Tony is thinking about how if he had any duct tape he would’ve duct taped the peas to his butt by now when someone bangs at his door.

Gee, I wonder who it could be, Tony thinks, as he goes to answer the door. Just so many people who visit this private beach residence. In all honesty it’s kind of sweet that Loki would turn up to check on him at all really.

Tony leaves the pea packet on the nearest counter and goes to answer the door. Good thing about this bungalow: it has many spare counters for things like dumping peas. An excessive amount of counters, even, and he questions what the designer had been thinking.

Tony swings the door open, “Hey there, crab-man.”

“I’m sorry,” Loki blurts.

“Hey, it’s okay, it doesn’t even hurt that much anymore, but at least you’re owning to it.”

“I didn’t set that up! I wouldn’t actually try to cause any lasting damage,” Loki explains.

Tony sighs.

“Yeah, I figured, I was just caught up in the moment and shouldn’t have blamed you.”

“Would’ve been a very Shakespearean betrayal too…” Loki muses.

“So… anything else you came to say?” Tony asks. Although he’s not sure why.

“Would you be feeling up to sharing the table like normal people?”

“Oh, come on, where would be the fun in that?” Tony jokes.

“You… weren’t hurt or offended when I kicked you or said your music taste is dumb?”

“Course not. We’ve all had wild college nights out, believe me, kick to the shins was nothing.”

“Crab grabs though…”

“If you want to share the table like normal people we will not be mentioning the crab grab.”

“Deal,” Loki says, and he’s beaming as if he’s won a prize. Which is really cute. Which is why Tony doesn’t regret slamming the door in his face.

Stupid cute neighbour.

He needs to change anyway.

———

Loki and Tony hang out under the gazebo, and they share the table.

Every so often Loki will read a line or two aloud and Tony will find himself snickering in response to Loki’s comments on the lines if not the lines themselves. Every now and then Tony tells Loki to look over at his screen as he invests in either the stock market or a round of Tetris.

Around noon Tony asks if Loki would like to sunbathe with him and Loki sees no reason not to join in. He doesn’t have any sunscreen of his own but Tony has plenty and is happy to share.

They talk about their work, and what they’re avoiding (family) in their little getaways from home, just things about life generally.

The sun is going to set soon when Loki asks if Tony would like to spend some time by the water with him.

The two of them spend a good thirty minutes hitting each other with floaties when they aren't sitting around in them, and, despite wading in till their knees, and flinging water at each other, they manage not to get too wet.

They sit in the sand watching the sun set in beautiful streaks of purples and orange as they dry off their feet.

Loki brought two towels in case of such a scenario (which Tony finds very endearing and sweet) and they lay on them as they watch the sky darken to reveal the stars. Loki tries to point out some constellations but Tony is convinced he’s making them up. Maybe he is.

The two of them share sandwiches and chips and chocolates and decide to head up early at around nine.

Tony invites Loki over for a movie, and how can Loki say no? He only just met him, but he’d rather be stuck sharing this bungalow and beach and gazebo with him than have to return home in a few days.

The house is huge, and there is plenty of room on the couch for them to be spaced out, but they choose to share a blanket and stay close because they want to.

Loki hadn’t planned on sleeping over, but he stays late and falls asleep in the middle of a movie and Tony doesn’t mind at all. It’s hard for him to mind when he’s also fallen asleep.

———

Day 4

Tony wakes early.

Not Loki-early, but earlier than usual, because he’s looking forward to spending time with Loki.

Hmm. Maybe it is technicallyyy still Loki-early. Whatever.

Except, Tony wakes up alone and walks down the slope to the gazebo, and finds it empty. A quick scan of the beach also yields no results. Which is concerning, but not overly so. Maybe he just has something else to do today?

Tony gets through a few hours by rotating through Tetris, League of Legends, and Galaga, before he gives in and walks up to Loki’s half of the duplex bungalow.

He bangs his fist on the door and waits.

About a minute later, Loki answers, in green-plaid pants and a vintagey AC/DC band shirt, hair looking only half brushed.

“Are you seriously wearing that kind of shirt as pajamas?”

“Yes. And good... morning?”

“Morning!” Tony cheerily greets in return, before his expression gets less so, “why aren’t you out today?”

“Good afternoon? I... just wasn’t feeling too well, a bad day I guess,” Loki explains, which Tony understands. “And I already over-lived my stay with you yesterday, so I thought you could have the gazebo all to yourself today, since I’m not really in a beach mood anyway.”

And that’s a big no in Tony’s book because no he didn’t go too far or over-stay anything and no he doesn’t owe him anything and no in general because Tony liked spending time with him! He’s fun and caring and Tony’s wondering where this guy was for every other vacation he spent here because Tony considers him a friend!

“That’s sweet,” Tony lies, “I’m not really in a beach mood either.”

“Ah. Would you… like to come in?” Loki asks, hesitant.

“Of course buddy, if my friend wants to stay home I’m sticking with him.”

Loki stands aside, letting Tony into the bungalow that he’s used to owning on his own, but, shockingly enough, doesn’t mind sharing anymore.

“Would it be bad to ask what kind of bad mood?” Tony questions, taking a seat by the TV. It’s off and he doesn’t see a remote.

“A bit, yes, but I value the thought,” Loki answers, checking the kitchen cupboards.

“So what were you doing in here all alone without me, beach buddy?”

“Reading.”

Hmm. Tony considers. They did do what he had wanted yesterday.

“Can I join?” Tony inquires, “if you have any spare books, that is.”

“I didn’t know you could read.” Loki says with half-hearted disgust, walking behind the couch to a small bookshelf.

“Harry Potter, you got me,” Tony states in the driest tone, “Ha ha.”

“I’ve got the second Game of Thrones—“

“There’s a book?!”

“And the series hasn’t updated in years.”

“Bummer, hate when they do that, but at least the show ended?”

“Yeah, badly,” Loki points out. “I’ve got the Lord of the Rings trilogy.”

“I thought you didn’t like the hobbits being taken to Isengard,” Tony pouts.

“Not when it’s on loop and happening the sixth time in a row,” Loki says, dropping the book into Tony’s lap roughly.

Yeah, okay, the man isn’t feeling well, maybe he should leave? But Tony doesn’t want to leave him alone if he’s feeling bad either!

Tony opens the book, skipping through the contents and prologue-y pages. He will enjoy the book and he’ll do it while sitting on the opposite side of the couch because if Loki doesn’t want to lay across and tangle their legs under a blanket that’s up to him. Besides, that’s more an afternoon activity, and Tony isn’t tired at all, so he’s sitting up properly. Which contrasts with Loki’s slouchy leaning-into-the-couch.

“You know, if it’s too quiet, or the book doesn’t interest you, you can just watch something, I won’t be offended.”

“Not so fast, crab-man, I’m doing this to have fun and try something you enjoy, because I like spending time with you, and think that’s fair,” Tony states, and oh sh*t Loki looks devastated. Quick, something fun, something fun, “So I will definitely be trying to read it... at least a bit, before I do anything else… because I may vehemently not-like reading, but I do enjoy your company.”

“Okay,” Loki verbosely replies.

Tony tries to figure out what he’s done wrong but Loki’s opened his book up already.

Tony manages to get through the book in about two hours. Which means he didn’t actually read through it, he just tried, and kept skipping to pages further along that looked more interesting. To be fair, there is a lot of exposition and world building that he knows doesn’t matter because it’s not in the movies.

Loki’s been shifting how he’s sitting at twenty minute intervals, but Tony hasn’t moved lest he come off as restless and not loving the book.

“You can put something on,” Loki suggests, having noticed that Tony is done.

“It won’t disturb you?”

“Not if you don’t have it unreasonably high.”

Tony looks around for the remote, and doesn’t see it. “Any idea where the remote is?”

“Eh, it’ll be lying around somewhere. Maybe check the kitchen?”

And so, Tony sets out on a quest to find the remote.

He doesn’t find it.

He looks through every inch of the couch and in every kitchen cupboard but all he finds are pop tarts and pennies.

At some point Loki puts his book aside and decides to watch him look. He’s even smiling a tiny bit which Tony takes for a good sign.

“Hey, so, I couldn’t find the remote.”

“That’s a shame,” Loki says, and he’s definitely smiling, “would be horrible if someone knows where it is.”

“YOU!” Tony says, rounding in on him, depression be damned, he’s been looking everywhere for an hour now! “Where is it?!”

“Wh— why do you think I would know?” Loki says, turning his face away, his arms crossed pretentiously.

“You’re laughing!” Tony says, pointing a finger at him. “I spend ages looking for this legendary remote and find out you’ve been playing me the entire time” —Tony pokes a finger in the center of his chest for emphasis— “and you’re laughing!”

And okay, it’s a little funny, and Loki’s having fun, so Tony huffs a laugh too.

“I’m not laughing,” Loki tries to say flatly, face turned away, as he clearly tries not to laugh.

Tony being Tony does the only respectable thing in this kind of scenario and jumps onto the couch, straddling Loki, so he can turn his face back towards him.

“Where’s the remote!” Tony yells, to no avail, not even a reaction to having sat on his legs. Is Loki even breathing? His smile is clearly becoming harder to hold…

“Tell me where the remote is” — Tony grabs the thick novel Loki had been reading — “or I’ll take out your bookmark!”

“No!!!” Loki says, trying to grab hold of his book. “Not the bookmark!!! That’s my one weakness! Please, no! Anything but the bookmark!!!”

“Don’t make me do it!! Because I will!!”

Loki chuckles.

“Fine, you win, here” —Loki reaches a hand under the pillow behind him, and holds up the remote.

Tony snatches it immediately, and gives Loki a peck on the cheek thanks before getting off and going back to his side of the couch.

If Loki looks a little confused about the quick kiss, it’s gone by the time Tony is done flicking through the channels and decides a nature documentary is something they could both enjoy. When Mr Attenborough mentions otters holding hands when they’re happy and Loki asks if he can hold Tony’s hand of course Tony says yes.

Later, when Loki insists on cooking for the two of them he throws together some instant noodles and adds in carrots and peas and egg and mushrooms, and he asks if Tony would like to share the meal down by the beach, he agrees.

“You sure you’re up for this? I don’t mind eating back in the bungalow, and if you’re feeling uncomfortable I’d rather just go back,” Tony makes clear.

“I don’t actually know why I thought staying home would make me feel any better,” Loki says lightly.

“Hey man, sometimes you’ve just gotta stay home, it happens, don’t worry about it,” Tony consoles, carefully going down the sandy grassy slope to the beach, his huge bowl of noodles held in both hands. It smells great. “Besides, focus on the date for now.”

“This isn’t a date, I just asked you out to the beach to eat some comfort food with me.”

“The very definition of my ideal date,” Tony says, listing, “I was invited, there’s comfort food, we’re both already in our sexy pjs, there’s a beach, I think you’re a great friend and we could be more if you wanted, I’ve got my speaker in case we want some romantic classical music, the sunset will happen soon, what more could I want?”

“We also held hands for ages earlier and you kissed my cheek.” Loki winces, “this is totally a date.”

“Sure is.”

“How did I miss that?”

“If it’s any consolation, I was kidding, but you seem on-board, so… it’s a date?”

“It’s a date,” Loki confirms.

“Noodles on a beach is actually one of my secret fantasies,” Tony says, deadpan.

“Well,” Loki suggests, also deadpan, “there’s plenty of space under the gazebo.”

“Table is kinda obstructive,” Tony points out.

“Only if you’re not creative,” Loki counters.

Tony wriggles his eyebrows, and they both laugh.

———

Loki twists the last of his noodles and stabs his last carrot on his fork and puts it in his mouth. He looks into Tony’s bowl, and finds he’s actually finished first.

“You’re an even slower eater than me,” Loki notes aloud.

“Am not!” Tony blubbers out through a mouthful of noodles, “I’m just taking my time to savour it.”

Loki hums, and puts an elbow on the table to watch him finish up.

“So, what do you want to do now?”

Tony slurps up the rest of his food. “Well, now that I’m done, kiss?”

“I was thinking we could stand by the shoreline and get our feet wet, maybe walk up and down the beach a bit…”

“I mean, I’d rather walk up and down you,” Tony says, making a show of looking over Loki, who in turn snickers.

“I’m sorry, that was terrible,” Tony laughs, “it’s just, walk on the beach, that’s so freakin romantic, yeah I’m up for that.”

And it’s nice knowing that they can still hang out as friends, even if Loki is admittedly also intent on the kissing part.

They leave their bowls and flip flops in a pile in the sand and walk to the shore together.

Tony’s hand is warm in his as they swing their arms gently and just take in the salty air and talk about things; just facts about themselves and stories about life and things they like.

Loki’s not sure how much time has passed but it’s dark and only the night sky and it’s reflection on the water provide any light when he presses a hand under Tony’s chin to tip his face up so he can kiss him. It’s slow and sweet, and Tony— even though Loki finds it hard to believe in the moment —kisses back.

They pull apart, and everything is irrelevant in the face of the happiness they feel in having found each other, even by chance.

They kiss again; slower, deeper, and with an urgency ill-befitting of the time and space they have available.

———

Day 5

All records of the final entry have been [REDACTED] until further notice to maintain the rating of this fic.

It can be recalled that the [REDACTED] information featured notable involvement of local gazebo space not limited to below, above, and/or against the table, various uses of the excessive counters both halves of the rented space, more than banging on doors, and future plans for the continued entanglement of [REDACTED] leg distribution underneath blankets.

The reader is warned not to attempt searching for and/or to develop any interest in a desire to search for [REDACTED] records in future placements.

(The End.)

#frostiron holiday wishes challenge #frostiron #OMGGGGGGAWD #SO CUTE #SOOOO CUTEEEEEEEE #prompt #fill

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scullydubois · 5 years ago

Text

Only the Light: Ch. 10

Missy accompanies Scully to a doctor's appointment. Afterward, Missy confronts Scully about her feelings for Mulder, and Scully slips-up on the phone.

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

She digs through her suitcase, searching for the business card she tucked in the pocket with her underwear. A sharp edge penetrates her skin, stings immediately. Her fingers close around the paper card and pull it out. A thin red cut traces the length of her middle finger, blood begging to seep out. She ignores it and grabs the phone off her nightstand, plugging in the number for the Aubrey Motel.

As she’s dialing, she realizes that it’s already past lunchtime in DC, and even though Missouri is an hour behind, there’s no way Mulder is in his room. She lets it ring anyway, then asks the man who answers for room 12. He patches her through, and sure enough, the line rings until it gives up.

Impressed by her own newfound patience, Scully hangs up and dials Mulder’s cell instead. She’s not exactly sure why she didn’t just do this in the first place; maybe she likes the idea of Mulder being stationary without her, stuck in his room like a lost little boy with no one to guide him. Her heart sinks when she thinks about Mulder gallivanting around Aubrey, solving the case like there’s nothing to it, like he could have been doing it by himself all this time. She wants him to need her. Naturally, she is ashamed of this desire.

She hits the call button and waits while an invisible force shoots across states and connects her to her partner. She does not have to wait long; he answers after the first ring.

“Hello?” He sounds the same as always. Simultaneously there and drifting, one body split between two minds.

“Mulder, it’s me.”

“Hey Scully.” There is a lightness in his voice now, like a balloon cut free of its tether. He is smiling, she thinks...She hopes.

“I just wanted to let you know I made it home safely…” She trails off, not wanting to stop talking to him, but finding herself with nothing else to say.

“I’m glad, Scully.” He always addresses her by name more when they are apart. This is a comfort to both of them. “How’s Melissa?”

Scully looks through the doorway, confirming that her sister is nowhere near to cause any antics. “She’s alright.” She deals in half-truths. “We’re going to the doctor later to get an x-ray, but I think it’s just a sprain.”

“Well, keep me updated. I found a lead on the case--Harry Cokely, the suspect of one of the 1945 murders. I’m on my way to see him. He’s been out of jail since ‘93.”

Scully gulps. “Are you alone?”

“Uh-huh.” He senses her tension through the line. “But I’ll be fine, Scully, he’s an old geezer now. What kind of agent am I if I can’t defend myself against an eighty year old?”

“You could have taken BJ with you.”

“And put a pregnant woman in the line of fire? I’ll be fine, Scully. They wouldn’t have let him out if he were still a danger.”

“Okay, Mulder.” This is not what she means, but it has already been a long day, and there is too much left of it to get into an argument with him.

“I might be able to come back tomorrow,” she blurts out, as if saying it will make it more true. “...I’d like to come back tomorrow.”

“Take all the time you need, Scully. I’ve got this.”

She knows he is trying to be accommodating-- though he so rarely is--but his casual manner confirms her worst fears about her own superfluity. “I want to work, Mulder, you know that.”

“I’m not gonna stop you.” Then, his voice uneven, suspecting but not willing to confront--”Just take care of Melissa--and yourself--okay?”

She nods into the phone. “I will.” She is staring at the barrel of Mulder’s metaphorical gun, knowing he won’t shoot, almost wishing he would. Bleeding out feels like the simple solution. “Bye, Mulder.”

She is leaving so soon, he thinks, grateful to have had her voice accompanying him on the trip. “Bye, Scully. Call the motel tonight, will you?”

“Alright.” She kills the line, each extra second another thorn in her side, a lie allowed to linger. Sin multiplying.

She stands there, clasping the phone in her hand and feeling like a stranger to herself. Her sister thought she should tell him before she flew a thousand miles and let an hour fall between them, and she disobeyed. What Melissa didn’t understand was that vulnerability is not a word in her and Mulder’s shared language. There’s no way to spell out the situation, even if she had wanted to. And she didn’t want to at the time. Or rather, she had wanted to so badly that it was dangerous, that she knew she risked more pain by telling than by withholding. She would have had to invent new words in their language, expand its bounds, and who knows what would come next. Give someone the language to express their feelings, and they will say them. And what then?

She is scared of her own feelings--and his too--because she knows that admitting means losing, somewhere down the road, and she doesn’t ever want to be without him. If she had never met him, she would never have to live without him. This is the gun that is always pressed to her head. She and Mulder are both holding the trigger.

She doesn’t know if he has such a gun against his temple, thinks that maybe he doesn’t, hopes so at least. There have been others for him, she knows this. Phoebe and...well, Phoebe’s the only one she’s met, and she wasn’t that impressive. But he’s a good-looking guy, and a good guy at that, and the whispers of a dark-haired woman who broke his heart float up and down the hallways of the Hoover building. He doesn’t tell, and Scully won’t ask because she worries that the mystery woman is the gun he holds against his own head.

She sets the phone back in its receiver, tired of thinking about guns and triggers and brains blown out. For now, she is in one piece--she’s pretty sure--and she would like to stay that way for as long as her soul will let her.

Her sister calls from down the hallway. “Dana, are you ready?”

Scully managed to book a last-minute appointment with her OB-GYN, thanks to Missy’s insistence that it was an emergency. Personally, she wouldn’t use such a strong word--I mean, it’s not like she’s hemorrhaging or anything. It’s the absence of blood that’s the problem. But there are tests, scans, and probing of the like that can be done, and once Scully admitted this her sister would not drop the issue. Off to every woman’s favorite place they go.

--------

The waiting room is a stepping stone, a purgatory, a beginning and an ending rolled into one. She has been here before, many times. In the past, it felt like an inconvenience, not a threat.

She makes an appointment every year, does everything exactly as she is supposed to do in between, and still she is here and scared. She is careful as careful comes, as prepared as one petite woman alone in the world can be. She can dislocate a jaw, strike a man’s legs out from under him, break a nose. And yet, and yet, and yet...Who first uttered “fairness,” thought it existed on this Earth?

Even so, the consolation of knowing lingers in the distance. Like the minutes between calling 911 and the ambulance arriving. Help is on the way. The nightmare will end, or it will settle in. Lucky or unlucky. Win or lose.

Scully is not sure what she wants to hear. Three tests is quite definitive; pregnancy is unlikely. And what else is there? That her cycle has been thrown off by stress, that it’ll come back on its own time, don’t worry about it? That’s no comfort. She doesn’t want something to be wrong with her, but she knows something’s not right, and what’s worse than knowing that you don’t know? She and Mulder have lived in that hell for years. She can handle mysteries of the outside world, but what a cruel trick for her own body to blockade her.

Missy nudges her from the adjacent vinyl seat, elbow meeting bicep. “What are you thinking about?”

“How my mind doesn’t know what’s going on with my own body,” Scully replies dryly. “I mean, I know I have a tendency to close myself off, but I’ve cloistered myself so much I no longer know what I am.”

Melissa frowns. “Don’t you mean who? Who you are?”

“No.” Scully shakes her head, looks at her lap. In her darkest thoughts and most blistering nightmares, she is not human anymore. They desecrate her, ravage her body, and leave a memento in her skin, a touch of them. It’s so vivid it might be a memory. Mulder wants an alien; he may have one. That would be ironic, huh?

Can you learn to believe in yourself when you become something you never thought existed?

Can you still believe in God?

Every job she has dreamed of doing involves solving. Knowing enough to know what you don’t know, then figuring that out. Taking the pencil lines, shading them in. Seeking and finding and never wondering why. She cannot keep this up. There has got to be a meaning.

It is not enough, anymore, to simply wonder for the sake of wondering. To cast light over the darkness because you are tired of the darkness. Why? Is she doing it for Mulder, for the traumatized twelve-year boy locked inside him? Is she doing it for herself, fending off the fallibility, reconciling her belief with proof so that she can get off her own back? Or is she doing it because she was told to, because she is still the daddy’s girl who wants to please?

Twenty-nine years, and she is still coming to terms with herself. We are all our own x-file. We are all taking ourselves apart and piecing ourselves back together and looking for meaning and losing our minds.

Missy reaches over the wooden arm of the seat and pats Scully’s hand. Scully is reminded that she hasn’t yet ruled out the possibility that her sister is a mind-reader.

“Dana?” a nurse calls. Her first name feels so secondary that Scully feels certain they’re calling someone else.

“Right here!” Missy responds, getting up and pulling her sister along with her. Scully tugs her sister’s sleeve like a child might, wonders if Missy has ever considered motherhood.

Once in the corridor, they separate. The nurse takes Scully to get her vitals checked, while Melissa seeks out waiting room D, where the nurse’s flat voice--already tired from hours on the job--told her to wait.

It is not long before her sister joins her there.

“How was it?” Missy asks before Dana even manages to sit down.

Scully shrugs. She turns her left hand to show the pink bandaid on her index finger. “My iron levels are above average.”

“That’s not serious, right?”

“No, it’s usually a good thing.”

They sit quietly, listening to the staticky alt rock song coming through the speakers. They are alone in this particular area, but nurses and doctors bustle just around the corner from them.

Scully regards her sister with a latent curiosity. “Have you ever thought about having children?”

Missy turns to her, laughs. “What?”

Scully is somewhat perturbed by her sister’s nonchalant reaction. “Do you want to be a mother?” she reiterates. “It’s not something we’ve talked about since we were kids, so I was wondering.”

“If my life unfolds that way, then surely I think I’d enjoy it. But I’m not prioritizing it.”

“Ahh.” Her sister has always had a particular reverence for destiny.

“And besides,” Missy continues, “it could be hard, you know, with Trinity and all.”

It takes Scully a moment to realize what she means. “Oh.” That’s something she’s never had to worry about herself. She runs her finger along the grooves of her bandaid, feels her heart clench up for her sister. “There’s always adoption.”

“Yeah, I guess so. It’s a long, drawn-out process from what I’ve heard.”

“Mmm.” Scully nods, wondering how two women could have two such conflicting problems.

Before she can voice the irony of this, another nurse pops out from around the corner, peers at a clipboard. “Dana Scully?” Her voice is bright and chipper.

“That’s me,” Scully says, raising a hand to show the bandaid, her battle scar.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

Missy pats Dana’s shoulder as she stands up. “I’ll stay here. Come get me if you need me.”

“Okay,” Scully breathes, grateful to be given her space yet to know support is right around the corner.

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

For someone that went to medical school--and enjoyed it, for that matter--Scully always feels much too out of place in a gynecology office. It’s nothing she hasn’t seen before. In textbook diagrams, in wall art, in her own flesh. Yet the 3D model of the reproductive system, the color-coded illustration of the uterus, and the various pamphlets on everything from STDs to birth control to what to expect postnatal smother her, serving as a fresh reminder that Catholicism’s tendency to repress haunts her still. She’s more bothered by her involuntary discomfort than what she sees.

Dr. Zapolsky enters, easing some of Scully’s nerves immediately. Tall and dark-skinned, she has been practicing medicine for 20 years, and Scully has been seeing her since she moved to Washington. She can be intimidating if you don’t know her, but she’s honest and extremely competent, two things Scully requires of her doctors. And herself.

“Hello, Dana.” Scully sits up straighter as the woman’s voice hits her eardrums. She’s admired Dr. Zapolsky for years, seeing her as an exemplary figure, someone that might have been a mentor to her had she put her medical degree to work. “What can I do for you today?”

There are few things Scully hates as much as being the patient. If she’s the patient, that means she has failed at being her own doctor. That means she didn’t know--and worse--didn’t think she could figure it out on her own.

She wrings her hands. “My cycle is over a week late, which is very concerning considering that it’s always been timely. I’ve been having migraines and nausea and nightmares, and I just know something is wrong.”

Dr. Zapolsky drops Scully’s file on the counter. “Well, the pregnancy portion of your urine test came back negative.”

“I took three drugstore pregnancy tests too, and they were all negative. That’s why I’m here.”

“Have you had any notable lifestyle changes over the past few months?” Dr. Zapolsky asks. “Anything out of the ordinary? Stress is a major contributor to fluctuations in the menstrual cycle, as I’m sure you know.”

Scully nods, gathers herself. Dr. Zapolsky is oblivious to the rabbithole she has just fallen into. “I was, um, abducted, about eight weeks ago, and I have no memory of it.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Dana.” Dr. Zapolsky wheels her stool beside the medical chair. “We have a bit of catching up to do.”

“Yes,” Scully looks at her feet. They dangle a few inches above the tile like a child’s. Nothing new. She glances back at her doctor. “There isn’t much to say. I don’t know anything about what happened.”

“Well, tell me what you do know.” Then, seeing the apprehension on Scully’s face--”I’m not trying to play therapist, I just want to understand.”

Scully blinks slowly to keep from crying. It goes like this, it always does: she can manage the trauma until she has to say it out loud. This is a story no one wants to be in, but everyone wants to hear.

“I was taken by a man involved in a case that I worked on. Well, that my partner worked on, actually. I got involved--and long and complicated story short--the man broke into my apartment, bound my wrists and ankles, and stuffed me in his trunk. That’s the part I do remember. After the trunk, it’s all a blur really.”

The doctor furrows her brow. “How were you found?”

“I wasn’t found, I was returned. To the hospital. None of the staff had any idea how I got there, and I was bathed and cleaned by my abductors so no trace evidence was collected.”

“So no rape kit was done, then?”

Scully shakes her head.

The doctor uncrosses her legs, recrosses them with the opposite leg on top. “How long were you missing?”

“About a month...My mother bought me a gravestone, she didn’t think I would be found.” This is a detail she has never spoken out loud. Saying it feels like letting air out of an over-inflated balloon.

“I’m so sorry, Dana.” Dr. Zapolsky lifts a hand, then puts it back in her lap. “May I hug you?” Scully nods and lets herself be embraced, though she does not feel it necessary. “That sounds like a horrific ordeal.”

Scully shrugs as best she can with Dr. Zapolsky’s arms wrapped around her. “It comes with the job.” Always modest about her suffering, she is.

Dr. Zapolsky speaks into Scully’s ear. “No, I don’t think it does.”

The doctor lets go. Scully doesn’t say anything. She curls the fingers of her left hand around her right wrist and squeezes hard enough to be certain that it’ll leave a mark.

Dr. Zapolsky slides her stool back over to the counter, flips through Scully’s file.

“I’d say the best course of action is to start with a blood test. I’ll check a few hormone levels---follicle-stimulating, anti-mullerian, luteinizing. That’ll give some insight into your pituitary gland function and your egg reserve.”

Scully nods along. Those hormones are complicated names she barely remembers, but she trusts it’s the right course of action.

“With that, we can determine whether this is a symptom of a larger problem, or if it’s simply a result of the stress you’ve been under. It should only take a couple days to get the results back.”

Scully nods, bites her lip. More waiting.

“Have you been seeing a therapist by any chance?” Dr. Zapolsky asks.

Scully shakes her head. Dr. Zapolsky should know her better than that.

“Well, I highly recommend it even to those who have not gone through any trauma. And for a survivor, it can truly be life-changing.”

A survivor. What is she, a war hero? That word is fitting for her father, who lived on the sea and sought eternal rest there. Not her.

“Thank you, but I’m okay.” Scully cannot meet her doctor’s glance.

“If you need any referrals, I can give you some names.” Dr. Zapolsky is just trying to help, Scully knows this, but this is not the help she came here for.

“The FBI has an on-site psychologist,” she says to close the subject.

“Oh, what a wonderful resource.”

“Most definitely.” Scully smiles weakly and ducks her head, ready to get out of here.

-------

There are many things she is afraid of, but physical pain is not one of them. The unknown, slow but certain death--these are the things that spook Dana Scully. When you’ve spent years being told that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, you are prepared to suffer for honor.

This is simply the prick of a needle, a relinquishing. Doctors used to prescribe it as the cure for any ailment, believing it to vanquish toxins from the body. Med school would have been a lot simpler if that were true.

She watches the blood flow out of her veins and into the vial. Some people can’t look; she can’t look away. Missy is seated in the chair next to her, chin resting in her palm after her offer to hold Scully’s hand was rejected. She traces the path of her sister’s blue eyes as they slide from her arm to the vial in the nurse’s hand. Dana has never been afraid to look--that’s the problem.

In an instant, it is done. The nurse smooths a bandage over Scully’s skin, tells her they will call with the results in a few days. And then it is two sisters, going, going, gone.

----------

They have a pleasant ride home, a soft and sisterly evening in. The prospect of Dana going back to Aubrey in the morning never even comes up, much to Melissa’s relief. Perhaps the illusion of normalcy her sister pedals in her head has finally given way to their unreal reality. They don’t waste a moment on the uncertainty circling them, instead curling up on the couch with popcorn and gummy bears for another Golden Girls marathon.

“Which one do you think Mulder is?” Missy asks during a slow moment in the episode.

“Huh?” Scully laughs. “Which Golden Girl, you mean?”

“Uh-huh.” Missy pops a red gummy in her mouth. “Or is he too interesting to be pinned down?” she teases, mimicking the swoony non-answer he gave about Scully some weeks ago.

“I don’t know honestly,” she says, pushing a blanket out of her lap. “I’m not sure that I know him well enough to decide.”

“You’re kidding.” Missy glares at her. Clearly her sister has not dropped the illusion after all.

“No, I’m not,” Scully intones, getting up to refill the gummy bear bowl. “And that reminds me, he wanted me to call.” She glances at the clock. It’s half past 8 there, so surely Mulder is back in his motel room.

Missy isn’t letting her off the hook that easily. She follows her sister into the kitchen. “Dana, I guarantee that you know him better than anyone else in the world. If they conducted a test on every single living human being’s knowledge of Fox Mulder, you would get the highest score.”

“Knowledge isn’t the same as understanding,” Scully murmurs, dumping the remaining gummy bears into the bowl.

“I’ll give you that, but you know what? You do understand him, you’re just too afraid to confront it.”

Scully wants to recoil, but freezes in place instead. It’s just as dramatic but gives less away. After a breath, she crumples the plastic bag into a ball and dunks it swiftly into the wastebasket.

She speaks rigidly, each word cutting through the air. “If I understood him, there would be no fear.”

Missy feels this in her chest--the aching, the truth in her sister’s voice. Dana is as close to crying as she ever gets. Missy strides over, clasps her sister’s hands in hers. “You don’t have to be scared.” She pulls her little sister in, squeezes her heart to Dana’s own. “He loves you. And I’m not talking about in a romantic way--I don’t know, maybe--but just in general. He loves you, and he would never hurt you.”

Scully’s eyes are glassy with tears now, but Melissa cannot see this in the midst of their hug. “Haven’t you ever been hurt by someone who loves you?” She says into Missy’s ear. “We never mean it, but it happens. It happens all the time.”

“And then you apologize, and you go on. Being hurt once doesn’t mean being hurt forever.”

“It can.” Scully pulls away, wipes her cheeks before her sister can overanalyze.

“It won’t, not with Mulder. I know enough about him to know that.” She brushes her sister’s hair out of her face. “If anyone was going to cut off the relationship, it would be you.”

“Wha--” Scully gives up the protest. She is partial to burning bridges that are prone to collapse, a last-ditch attempt at dignity. Yet Mulder doesn’t strike her as a bridge that would burn even if she set it aflame. Maybe that’s worse though, it prolongs the struggle.

“Hurting him would be worse than getting hurt,” Scully mutters.

“Loving him would be better than not loving him,” Melissa responds.

“The correct phrasing of that argument is ‘loving him would be better than being loved,’ if you wanted to copy my logic.” Scully gets curt and analytical when she’s annoyed.

“Hmm, well, consider that too.”

Their eyes meet and Scully can tell that neither one of them is going to win. “I’ve got to call him before it gets too late.” They both know who he is. She turns on her heels and heads for her room.

--------

He didn’t pick up the first time she called, which scared her more than she’s willing to admit. She sat cross-legged on her bed until the phone rang again about twenty minutes later, until she heard his voice on the other line.

“Hey Scully, sorry, I was out wrapping up the case.”

“Wrapping up?” She doesn’t even bother to say hello. “It’s over?”

“Open and shut...or, err, something like that.”

“What happened?” Her voice strains for no reason. She clears her throat.

“I’ll catch you up some other time,” he says breezily. “How’s Melissa doing?”

For a moment, Scully forgets her lie and tries to figure out why he’s asking about her sister and not her. Then--”Oh! She’s okay, yeah, it was a sprain like we suspected. Nothing broken on the x-ray. She can just about walk normally now, I think she’ll be off crutches by tomorrow.” Embellish, embellish, embellish. Missy had taught her to lie in the 6th grade, and she finally had some use for that knowledge.

“That’s great! I’m flying back tomorrow morning, I can be at the office by 10 if you wanna meet me there.”

“Will you tell me about the case? And BJ? How is she?”

“I’ll...I’ll tell you that tomorrow, Scully.” There’s a bit of gravel in his voice, which Scully has noticed comes out when he’s tired or holding back.

“Fine. Should I assume that by 10, you mean 10:30?”

“Well, you know how the line at the Dulles Chick-fil-A gets,” he wisecracks.

Something goes wrong between her brain and her tongue as she goes to wrap up the conversation. “Alright, 10:30. Love you, bye.”

Mulder makes a noise like a stifled laugh or a cough that couldn’t be held in. “What was that, Scully?”

Her face is flushed, and she’s thankful he can’t see it. “Sorry, I’ve been talking to Missy on the phone a lot lately. Habit.” The voice flowing out of her sounds calm and collected, like that was just an honest mistake. In a way it was...a much too honest one that has made her anything but calm.

“Oh, is that who you say that to?” he teases.

She laughs. Surely he couldn’t think there’s anyone else, could he?

“Just Missy, and maybe my mom.” She says it like a promise. He hears it like a prayer. Unusual, for both of them.

“Bye, Mulder,” she says, ushering any sentimentality away.

“Bye, Scully. Hate you. Oh, sorry--that’s what I say to my dad on the phone.”

Scully giggles into the phone. She’s still giggling as she sets the phone back on the hook.

Even after the call flat-lines, Mulder holds the phone against his ear like it’s a seashell echoing Scully’s giggle back to him.

#thank u thank u thank u for reading #and your comments in the tags #i LOVE reading those #pls keep it up <3 #only the light fic #the x-files #the x-files fanfic #txf #fox mulder #dana scully #melissa scully #missy & scully fic #mine

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