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glowingbadger · 3 years

Note

Hi it’s me, crawling through the window. Would it be possible to get a crumb of arranged marriage w/ Hubert? His line w/ Dorothea about being willing to get married for politics sake has fueled my brain rot for him.

Good God I need to secure my windows-

I mean HELLO FRIEND ANON YES IT WOULD BE MY PLEASURE

Lol actually though, I have been thinking about this for Hubie since we all started chatting about that arranged marriage stuff! I think it's a perfect concept for him~

This like... got weird while I was writing it though?? Idk man hahaha it ended up on the less-spicy side of what I usually write, and with some very weird dialogue in places... Idk, I hope y'all like it. Maybe if there's interest, I'll follow this up eventually with a more smut-focused piece?

I've been traveling and working so much lately that I just don't even know what writing is anymore or how it works hahaha

TW: A brief mention of non-con

Hubert (FE3H) x Reader ("wife," neutral pronouns)

Arranged Marriage - semi spicy i guess?

"Frankly, he's a pain," Linhardt must be able to see your surprise and confusion written across your face. He goes on, "He's reliable and capable, of course, but also the most persistent nag you'll ever meet. Actually, no-" he glances upward as though to cross reference his own thoughts, "No, her Majesty is worse. But Hubert is a close second to be sure. Always on and on about sleep schedules and proper nutrition and etiquette..." He sighs and closes the massive tome on his lap, as though to close the conversation with it, "frankly, he's an insufferable mother hen. Does that help?"

"Well, it's... Not what I expected," you admit with a shrug, "but thank you all the same."

It's been several weeks since the papers binding you in marriage to Hubert Von Vestra had been signed- and this alone had sufficed. No ceremony, no grand ball, just paperwork and a handshake with your father. A handshake that ensured that, even under the Empire's unification, he would maintain nominal control over his considerable portion of land, and in return, would swear absolute loyalty to her Majesty. It was a beneficial arrangement for all parties, and you were not ignorant to the part you played. You were hardly even a bargaining chip- moreso, a hostage.

Your new husband had made no secret of what manner of harm may befall you if your family were to renege on their deal. Fortunately, you know your father to be a reliable coward, so you have no reason to believe he would be bold enough to step out of line.

Hubert Von Vestra is a terrifying man. A zealously loyal man of storied cruelty and a frigid disposition. His frame looms over you whenever he's near, and though he's hardly placed a finger on you since you'd been given over to him, his mere presence is... arresting. There's a sort of charisma to him that's equal parts frightening and fascinating. Perhaps it's madness brought on by your circumstances, but you can't help wanting to glimpse just the slightest bit into that brilliant, ever churning mind.

Unsurprisingly, he has been resistant to your attempts to understand him. He hardly indulges you in small talk, and if you were the paranoid sort, you'd think he intentionally makes himself busy when you're around. Eventually, perhaps out of sheer stubbornness, you'd settled on a routine of bringing coffee to his study adjoined to your bedroom in the evenings. He'd been visibly surprised the first time. It wasn't until the fourth night that he'd given a curt "thank you." About two weeks in, he'd actually sat back in his chair and laid down his quill pen to receive the cup from your hands. After a month, he'd leveled his narrow gaze at you and said,

"I cannot begin to fathom what satisfaction you glean from playing 'maid' to me."

"Well, I, uhm," you hadn't expected him to address you so directly, but you managed to say, "You... work so hard, I wanted to do something for you, I suppose."

His expression is inscrutable as he replies,

"You are aware that my work was much the same before you arrived."

"I am," you say softly, "But- all the same..." you trail off, and Hubert seems content to let the matter rest. And so you leave him be amidst his reports and correspondence, coffee at his side on the desk. Yet for as unproductive as your exchange might have seemed, it does leave you with an idea. The thought to learn about the man from those who knew him long before your arrival at the capitol.

Your investigation into the true character of your husband does not stop with Linhardt. In fact, his testimony only leaves you with further questions. But perhaps the others would say otherwise; perhaps the United Empire's most up and coming crest scholar simply inspires maternal behavior. This has to be the case- you simply can't imagine that the notoriously ruthless heir of the even more notorious Vestra lineage would be so... Doting.

And yet the more you learn of him, the more contradictory he seems.

Caspar's take is much like Linhardt's- a picture of a man far closer to a school marm than any assassin or master of torture. Ferdinand seems both smitten and incensed by him, oscillating wildly between the two. Then eventually, to your shock, Bernadetta takes the initiative to speak to you about Hubert of her own accord.

"I'm, uh, really so-sorry to bother you!" she approaches with arms drawn close to her chest and eyes resolutely avoiding yours, "I- I just heard that you were... asking about Hubert, so, I, uh..."

It takes some time to prompt her further. You assure her again and again- no, this isn't intrusive at all- yes, you'd very much like to hear her perspective- no, you're not mad at her. In truth, you're endlessly intrigued about what a gentle soul like Bernadetta would have to say about a man feared across the continent. Finally, she manages,

"He's... actually really kind!" she blurts out, as though the words would abandon her if she gave them the window of opportunity. Your eyebrows raise slightly.

"You think so..?"

"Yes, completely-!" she stammers, "I know he's super, super scary, and powerful and spooky and cold and, uh, all of that. But still," her voice falters as she continues, "He only scolds people when they do something dangerous. And he only hurts people to protect others. I... I know he's done some te-terrible things. But... he's always been nice to Bernie," finally, she meets your eyes with an imploring look in hers, "So, uh, I'm really grateful to him. And I think it would be really nice for someone to reach out to him. If... if that's not too weird or anything. For you."

You smile warmly and nod,

"Thank you, Bernadetta. I know it can't be easy for you to come to me with all of this, but... I'd like to try, if I can."

The opportunity doesn't come in the way you expect.

At first, it seems the night will proceed like many others before. You bring a cup of coffee to your husband's desk, setting it down quietly so as to not disturb him. He's silent, but this is common enough, so you head back to the bedroom to undress for the evening. All nights prior, he would lay beside you long after you'd settled in, then rise to resume work in the morning before you woke up- all the while never allowing your bodies to interact in any way.

Tonight, just as you're about to close the door to Hubert's study behind you, long fingers catch around your wrist, visibly startling you.

It's the most physical contact you've had to-date, but he only says,

"One moment."

You whip around to face him, a touch of anxiety evident in your eyes. It's clear in his own that he notices, but if anything, he only seems amused. He steps forward, his taller frame menacing you as he speaks,

"I understand that you have been busying yourself with some manner of investigation as of late."

It takes a moment for his meaning to reach you. When it does, your face burns and you can't bring yourself to meet his scrutinizing gaze,

"Oh, uhm..."

"I assure you, my dearest wife," he says with barely concealed venom, "anything that I do not wish for you to know will be kept from you. Aside from which, your efforts thus far have proven amateurish at best."

Something seems off about his tone. You could understand if he felt uncomfortable or hesitant about your efforts to learn about him, but this seems far more grave, more... business-like. He steps towards you once more, and you step back in turn. Yet before long, you feel your legs bump the edge of the bed. A gloved hand trails a fingertip down your jawline to your chin, then urges you to look up at him.

"Whatever you are planning, my dear, I promise it will be fruitless. You had best rethink how you spend your days before your actions bring you to harm."

"No, I-" your brow creases deeply, your face burns, your body burns hotter and you don't want to consider why, "I've just been trying to learn about you as a person, nothing else. We're- we're married, after all, so..."

He gives an abrupt, dry laugh.

"Ah, so I am to believe that you've been interrogating my allies out of some misguided affection, is that it?"

"Hubert, just listen to me!" for a moment, you feel bolstered, defiant, and you straighten your posture, "You won't tell me the first thing about you- the only way to learn so much as your favorite color is to ask someone who's known you for a decade!"

Briefly, he does seem to consider your words. But his eventual reply is as aloof as any prior,

"If you're no spy or politician, then you're worse- a fool." he says, and before you can respond, he's seized both of your wrists and pushed you back onto the bed. For a moment, the room spins and your voice leaves you. A shrewd eye watches you with cruel condescension as he pins you against the sheets.

"I should think that you'd be well aware what I'm capable of," he nearly whispers, "I personally ensured that the rumors spread through your father's territory and further still. Do you think that anyone would even dare lift a finger to help you if I chose to seek retribution for this recent behavior?" He draws nearer, his grip tighter at your wrists, "Perhaps as punishment, I'll simply take my pleasure from you by force."

Your lips tighten, you take a breath. Then, meeting his gaze directly, you reply,

"You won't."

His visible eye narrows.

"And what evidence do you have to prompt such unfounded confidence? Perhaps you have crafted a flattering falsehood of me in your mind," a mocking smirk curls his lips, "Am I a misunderstood sentimental sort to you, then? A sad, lonely man for you to save?"

You scowl, though you suspect it looks more like a pout to him.

"I don't know what I think of you yet- not completely. But I don't pity you like that, and I don't think you're sad or lonely. I know you're not."

For the first time, it seems that you've caught him off guard. That frigid mask falters for just a moment, and you go on before he can replace it,

"You're surrounded by people who care about you. I've seen it for myself. Whatever you've had to do in the service of your ideals- it hasn't kept the people around you from wanting to know and understand you, even if it's despite you."

Hubert is silent for a moment. His gaze bores into you like he thinks he'll discover some hidden layer if he can just keep digging. Then, he sighs,

"How did I ever become bound to such a troublesome spouse..."

When you wrest your arms from his grasp, his hands fall away with little resistance, and you think that perhaps he had never truly intended to keep you in place by force to begin with. He moves to leave the bed, but your fists find the front of his clothing and tug him back down to you.

You press your lips to his without hesitation, and you can feel him inhale sharply, his entire body rigid above you. His lips are surprisingly soft, his scent like coffee and old parchment, and though your heart threatens to burst from your chest, you hold firmly to him by his clothes. Near imperceptibly, he leans down against you, and your fear, along with any remaining doubts, begin to dissolve. Knowing he won't pull away, you let your hands relax against him, running up his chest where you can feel his own pulse pounding. It's so human, so entirely reasonable and normal. Now, at last, Hubert Von Vestra is merely a man of flesh and bone.

Your tongue meets his naturally, your lips parting in time with his as your kiss deepens to a fevered pace. One hand reaches that sharp, handsome jawline, reveling in the erotic sensation of his mouth moving against yours. And yet, all the while, his hands remain staunchly on the bed beside you. He doesn't touch you- doesn't even let his body meet yours.

It's impossible to tell whether passion or madness drives you to bring your teeth to his lower lip, a single insistent bite communicating desire mounting faster than you can contain. And for a moment, you sense something new; a sound catches in Hubert's throat, a reaction he fights to stifle. Then, he pulls away. His pale skin is tinted a rare shade of pink, and his hair is ruffled out of place enough to reveal both narrowed eyes. His cloak has spilled around his frame to surround you both, and somewhere in your frazzled mind, you imagine that you're caught in some beautiful, velvet-lined trap.

"I- must... return to my work." Hubert says stiffly. He pushes up from you and turns away, leaving you still flustered on the bed behind him. You sit upright, holding your arms tight around your body as you watch him straighten his hair and clothes.

"You, uhm..." your face reddens still as you search for the right words, "you could... join me in bed, if you liked."

Hubert turns to the door of his study, speaking without daring to even glance your way,

"Anything that you offer to me now will be born from the impulse to survive. I have been bargained with before." His shoulders slack just slightly, his voice low and sober, "The proudest nobleman will even sell off his own child to a monster if he feels it will spare him its teeth."

You open your mouth to protest, then shut it without a word. You feel that you know your mind and heart, even in this moment, but you lack the words to convince a man like this. In a feeble attempt, you murmur,

"You don't frighten me, Hubert. Not anymore."

He half turns toward you, though his hand remains on the handle of his study door.

"You yourself said that you do not know what you think of me," he says, "As such, I will not lay a hand on you until the day that you do."

You stare down at your hands in your lap, barely registering the sound of the door clicking shut as he leaves you in the bedroom. No matter how you try to sort out your tangled thoughts, the memory of his lips on yours won't leave them. If anything, it eclipses any sense of reason, standing resolutely in the way of your path to clarity. Letting out a groaning sigh, you fall onto your back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as if it could offer you any advice.

What do I think about my own husband? You wonder, the thought nearly enough to make you laugh. Well for one, he's a pain.

#hubert von vestra #hubert x reader #fire emblem #feh #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem imagines #fire emblem fic #x reader

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

Sweet Talkin’. Yan Dabi x Reader [COMM]

There’s been an abnormal amount of sirens tonight.

It should be unnerving -- and to an extent it is -- but this isn’t what keeps you awake. Not that, or even the dogs barking outside accompanied with an occasional derogatory yell. With a heavy heart, you can say that you’ve gotten used to all of that noise. No, it’s something different that steals you from the welcoming comfort of a deep slumber.

The thing that truly keeps you up is the anticipation of what is to come. Or more precisely, who.

The bright glow of your phone strains your tired eyes, but it’s your best shot at finding entertainment. Squinting at the blinding light, exhaustion seeps into your being despite your best efforts to ward it off. No matter how much caffeine you drink later on in the day, it’s not enough to to thwart your natural inclinations to sleep.

For most, nighttime is a relaxing time of day that’s coveted. It brings a time of solitude, to reflect and rest up for the next day. While you wish you could return to the days where you felt like that, it’s long behind you now. Instead, you evade sleep, in fear of what could occur when you’re in the defenseless state.

An illusion of control is better than none at all.

“You’re gonna get dark circles under those pretty eyes if you keep staying up this late.”

A deep voice rumbles from the entrance to your shared room, one that you instantly recognize. Even in your groggy state, your emotions heighten in his presence. Turning off your phone and placing it down, you stretch your arms out, a yawn leaving your lips in the process.

So he’s back.

“Yeah, yeah…” you grumble back, caring little for the teasing comment. After feeling around your nightstand, a click resonates, light illuminating your room. Once your eyes adjust, you spot your unwelcome visitor, who makes himself at home. Dabi walks towards you, your bed creaking under his added weight as he sits down. Untying his shoes, he throws them carelessly in the corner.

Sensing your staring, he looks over his shoulder and grins at you. “Awe, you miss me or somethin’? How cute.”

A groan leaves your lips, and you reach to throw a pillow at him. He easily deflects it with a snicker, working on taking his shirt off next. At least now that he’s back you feel more inclined to sleep, knowing that he can’t sneak up on you. Splatters of dark vermilion catch your attention, mouth curling downwards into a frown.

If there’s anything you’ve learned in your time with Dabi, it’s that you shouldn’t ask where the blood stains come from. Ignorance is bliss, right? It’s still an unnerving sight, especially since you know it isn’t his.

The relationship you two share is nothing if not unconventional. His occupation -- if you can even call it that -- has him coming and going at unholy times at night. Sleep is difficult to come by, not knowing when he might make an appearance. It’s what leads you to stay up some nights, a preferable experience to tossing and turning with anxious thoughts plaguing you.

As long as you stay in your designated place, Dabi holds true to his promise of doing you no harm. Thinly veiled threats under the pretense of being your “roommate” lead you to the current day, an awkward routine settling in. For all it’s worth, it could be worse. You’re acutely aware of what Dabi is capable of, having seen the ashes of corpses blurred out in the news.

Why he’s taken a liken to you is beyond you. It still beats dying, only by a sliver.

“There are some leftovers in the fridge,” you tap your phone, reading the time. Three in the morning. Great, and you have work tomorrow too. “I think I’ll give sleeping a shot now that you’re back.”

Dabi raises an eyebrow at this, a fresh shirt without blood stains now on. “You always sleep when I get back. It hurts my feelings. What, am I not good enough company?”

‘If I’m being honest, not really.’

He grins at how you shiver, lazily crawling over to be by your side. His sudden presence fills your nose with unknown scents, ranging from smoke to burnt leather. Underneath is hints of his cologne, all mixing together to disorient you further. Dabi loves riling you up, testing the limits of what you can handle.

You take a deep breath, hugging your knees to your chest. As long as you don’t let it get to you, it’ll be fine. He always gets bored eventually, leaving you to do as you please. That’s what you’ll aim for.

“It’s not that. I just have stuff to do tomorrow, and I don’t like being exhausted. It’s my long shift.”

His trademark grin melts away, furrowing eyebrows and a grimace taking its place. Mentioning your life outside of him is a tricky battle, and you can’t help but regret mentioning it. Being in a sleep deprived state is a major disadvantage in your interactions with him.

“This again? I thought I told you to quit. Rent or whatever won’t be an issue, I’ll handle it.” Dabi scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your bare shoulder. His skin feels rough against yours, coarse hands rubbing circles into you. You bite your lip at the sensation, hair on the back of your neck standing.

“I... I like my job. Sure, it can be irritating at times, but it gives me something to do during the day. I’d go stir crazy without something concrete to focus on.” The words are heartfelt, unfiltered. When he responds in silence you worry you’ve made a mistake, upsetting him with your defiance.

He huffs against your neck, lifting his head and shooting you a displeased look. His voice is a low murmur, one that reverberates into the core of your very being. “Always making trouble for me..."

Dabi’s grip around you tightens, and you gulp thickly. With how casual he speaks to you, it can be easy to forget the major power imbalance. Instead of greeting you with insults, or worse, he lightly flicks your forehead.

You blink, baffled.

“Don’t most people hate their jobs? I figured you’d be jumping at the idea of having more free time, or whatever. So you can focus on other things.”

It’s not a confession you were expecting, your cheeks flushing at the considerate nature of his words. While it’s true quitting your job is an appealing thought, it creates a semblance of balance within your now chaotic life. Helping you stick to a schedule, in the same way school used to.

Now feeling confident in expressing yourself, your taut muscles relax into his touch. “I’m too tired to think about it properly, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how you can stay up this late all the time without losing it.”

Deflecting from the previous topic makes you feel better. If Dabi notices your intentions he doesn’t point them out, allowing you to take control of the conversation without complaint. He must prefer it over when you’d just shake and cry in his presence.

“You get used to it, sweetheart,” he drums his fingers against you, smirking. “I’ll make a night owl outta you yet.”

Any implications in his words go straight over your head.

“As tempting an offer as that is, I think I’ll pass. ”

He shrugs at your indifference, removing his arms from your frame. The lack of enveloping warmth causes you to shiver, Dabi searching through his bag. You peak over his shoulder out of curiosity, his scarred hands settling on an object which he pulls out.

It’s a copy of Animal Crossing, in all of its beautiful glory. You wipe your eyes, unsure if what you’re seeing is reality.

“W-what?” you guffaw before your brain has the chance to stop you, jaw agape and head tilted. Dabi places it on your lap, and returns to his previous position of holding you. There’s clear amusement in his eyes at your stunned state, relishing in your every reaction.

“Did I get the wrong thing? This is that game you wanted, isn’t it?”

It had to have been a week or so ago. You lamented to him about not being able to afford this, not even realizing he was giving it any attention. To think he remembered, and acted on it for your sake... is a touching sensation. Maybe he is capable of selflessness after all.

The cute box art puts a smile on your face, one that Dabi stares at.

“I have to say, I’m surprised,” you pick it up, looking at the back with wide eyes. “Did the cashier give you a funny look when you picked this out?”

‘I really need to start thinking before I speak.’

He shakes his head at your blunt comment, not taking any offense. “I didn’t get it that way.”

‘Oh, well... better not ask more than necessary. There’s no blood on it so at least that’s a good sign.’

Wiggling free from his grip, you rotate your legs over the side of the bed, intent on getting your switch. An opportunity like this must be taken advantage of, and you’ve wanted to play this game for some time now. Dabi must’ve read your mind, and pulls you back to him with little effort before you get the chance.

“If I remember correctly, you said you were tired just a few minutes ago.”

He plucks the game from your fingers, and places it on the side furthest from you. What a cruel world this is, to have paradise so close and yet so far. You can’t help the pout that forms at his actions.

“The situation changed, I’m wide awake now.” you explain to an unmoved Dabi, launching over his lap to get your coveted game back. He picks it up, lifting it over your head with a chuckle. So that’s how it’s going to be.

Defeat settling in, you retreat for now. A sigh leaves your lips, arms crossing over your chest. You should’ve known better, Dabi has made it clear to you that he wants your attention. Looks like you’ll have to wait until after work to get a taste of Animal Crossing.

There’s a glint of mischievous in his azure eyes, one that you’ve seen more often than you wish. Dabi sighs in mock hurt, placing a hand over his heart. “Not even so much as a thank you for my efforts. That’s cold, babe. Real cold.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right. Thank you, it means a lot.”

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue. “That’s not what I was looking for. Try again, sweetheart.”

A flurry of thoughts fly through your mind, all competing with one another to offer a solution. Does he want money for it? He should know that you’re not capable of producing that amount, or you would’ve bought the game for yourself. Dabi gives you a moment to think, before offering the answer to you.

He puts his pointer finger on your lip, maintaining eye contact while doing so.

“Oh, t-that.”

“So glad to see that you’re finally catching on.”

It could be the summer heat winning over your AC, the room suddenly feeling warmer than it did a few moments prior. You look down at your blankets, focusing on anything other than the person in front of you. This level of teasing is nothing new with Dabi, he always manages to fluster you.

He sits, relaxed, waiting for you to make a move. There aren’t any other options that you can think of, so you give into what he wants. Moving closer to his face, you feel his warm breath fanning against your skin. Your hand twitches, pressing against his chest to offer balance.

Squeezing your eyes closed, you tilt your head, soft lips brushing over his own. All of your movements are hesitant, your entire body feeling like it’s on fire. Heart pounding violently against your chest, you move to pull back. Only to discover his hand on the back of your head is stopping you from doing so.

Dabi slants his lips back over your own, nibbling your bottom lip. You freeze, the unexpected affection leaving you incapable of reacting. It’s when you squeak that he finally loosens his grip, opening his eyes to take in your embarrassed countenance.

All things considered, it wasn’t an unpleasant experience.

You cover your burning face with your shaking hands, feeling the warmth emanating off of you. He makes it even worse by chuckling, the low rumble filling you with indignation. There never is hope of catching a break with Dabi.

“You might be the one with a fire quirk after all,” he leans forward, placing a hand against your hot forehead. “Mm... that look you’re giving me is too much. You have to be doing it on purpose at this point.”

Fed up with his relentless teasing, you smack his hand away and purse your lips. He props his arms behind his head, letting you glare at him to your heart’s content. From his lack of reaction, you get the feeling he isn’t too intimidated by you.

“Whatever, I’m going to bed,” you huff, returning to your side and pulling up the blankets. He doesn’t make a move to stop you, and you take the opportunity to lay down on your side. Refusing to look at him, you focus on the wall.

Dabi pokes your cheek, which you ignore.

He lets out a long sigh at your antics, joining you underneath the covers. You hear shuffling behind you, and can’t help but wonder what it is that he’s up to. Maybe he’s succumbing to his own exhaustion, and will let you sleep in peace? What a perfect world it’d be if that’s the case.

The thought is entertained for three seconds before you’re pulled against his firm chest from behind, toned arms snaking around your torso and staying there. His body is always so warm. It doesn’t help that you’re already embarrassed from before. Dabi grumbles something incoherent, placing his head in the crook of your neck.

Accepting the situation for what it is, you stop moving. He reaches over you to turn off the light, and darkness surrounds you once more. All you can hear are your own labored breaths, and rapidly pounding heart. It might be impossible to sleep like this.

You’ll call out of work for tomorrow.

“... Dabi?” you whisper, voice soft and barely audible. He grunts in response, nuzzling further into your neck. For the past few months, there’s been a thought that haunts you at every turn. One that you can never find an answer to, and have been too frightened to investigate beyond your own musings.

It’d be easy to play this off as sexual attraction alone, yet a voice in the back of your head says otherwise. That what Dabi feels for you goes beyond that, into a sinister territory that you want desperately to avoid. Why is it he’s patient -- borderline kind -- with you, yet cruel to everyone else? None of it makes logical sense, his actions erratic and seemingly without reason.

Maybe you shouldn’t know. Still, you ask, against your better judgement.

“Why do you like me so much?”

You feel how he smiles against the skin of your neck, the sensation stirring up unknown emotions within. He squeezes you against him once, letting out a low hum as he considers your words. While waiting for him to speak, you hold in a breath.

“Dunno. Just do,” Dabi offers a noncommittal response, one that leaves you greatly unsatisfied. It seems he’s not even aware of it himself, the effect you have on him unlike anything he’s ever experienced. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

“... Alright, I won’t.”

“Good. Now get some sleep, before I ask you to kiss me again.”

#dabi my hero academia #Dabi #dabi x reader #dabi imagine #dabi headcanons #yandere dabi imagines #yandere dabi #yandere dabi imagine #yandere dabi x reader #bnha #bnha imagines #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #yandere bnha #yandere #my hero academia #my hero academia imagine #yandere my hero academia #commissions

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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years

Note

good trope or bad trope: one of them waking up from surgery or something and being so high on drugs they forget they're together and the other has to explain it

good trope GOOD trope good trope! and this was probably just a question but I couldn't resiiiist

-*-

It's kind of sad to think about the fact that Amy is already used to monitors beeping in a cold hospital room around her squad and, mostly, around her partner. They've been in so many horrible situations, so many little moments where she's had to worry about them, that today she's almost glad she doesn't have to. Jake's surgery had neither been scheduled nor planned, and there had been a whole lot of panic leading up to it when she drove him to the hospital wincing in pain, his arms clutched around his lower stomach, but the doctor's told her they came in early enough for it to be a more routine procedure rather than an emergency. And now his appendix was out, and he would be hurting and healing for a while, but the trepidation about that is nowhere close to the fear she's used to feeling while sitting in these uncomfortable hospital chairs, wondering when the person in the bed next to her would wake up. The last time she'd been in this position, Rosa was hooked up to so many many more machines, and she looked like a bad wax figurine of herself, all pale and stiff.

Jake looks almost fine, no breathing mask or tube down his nostril, just a little beeping heart monitor and some infusion in his arm. The nurse told her he'd be waking up soon when she lead her into the room, and that they could probably go home later that evening already.

(She also told her that he'd been one of the more amusing patients she'd had under anesthesia, which was not a surprise, and that he'd been asking for her every time he groggily opened his eyes for just a few seconds, which was not a surprise either.)

He blinks awake slowly, eyes darting around the room as if to figure out where he is, before they land on her and stay stuck, his forehead creasing in confusion for a second before he grins.

"Heyyyy, it'sa Santiago!" He tries in a croaky voice, and Amy reaches for the cup of ice water the nurse brought in to hand it to him. He's shaky, but he can handle it alone, she notes almost subconsciously - she remembers enough moments where she's had to feed him ice chips instead because he could barely move his arms.

"Hey." She answers with a softer smile as he gulps down almost the whole cup - considering he still hates water, he must really need it. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, just splendid, thanks." He quips before trying to sit up more and wincing, the stitches in his stomach upset. "What the hell did I do this time to end up here?"

"What?"

"I mean, I don't remember a chase or a fight, but it sure feels like I took a knife to the stomach or something?"

They look at each other, equally confused, before Amy shakes her head.

"You dont remember-? It wasn't a work thing, Jake, your appendix almost burst."

"Ah dang. That's not even a cool story for a new scar." He sighs as he leans back a bit against the pillow and carefully palms the space where she knows the skin is going to be light pink and rougher than usual from now on. "Sorry they made you wait around for my stupid ass to recover, or is the squad at least taking turns?"

She stares at him, her mind racing, and it seems to make him nervous. He's still trying to go for that usual grin, but his eyes are darting around, sticking to parts of her without looking directly into her eyes, and she can see he's getting fidgety. Mixing that with what he's saying, and the way he's saying it - his voice is different, somehow, more - guarded, or distant, it's hard to explain, but she only remembers it from a long time ago - makes her suddenly realise.

He's been given some very heavy duty painkillers and narcotics, she hears the nurse's voice in her head, so he might be disoriented or confused for quite a while. It shows differently in lots of people, so I can't tell you what to expect, but he'll be back to normal once it passes through his system.

He doesn't remember, she thinks. He doesn't remember... a lot.

"Jake." She gets his nervous attention back, trying to school her voice into something calm and friendly, instead of the equally nervous and somewhat excited giggle she wants to let out so bad. "I think you're still working through your medication. Can you tell me what the last thing you remember is?"

He leans back again and stares at the ceiling, and it's hard to read the emotions on his face.

"Just... regular work stuff, to be honest. Nothing big."

"Okay, then what is the last big thing you can think of?"

"Uh." He swallows, and Amy refills his water cup, but he doesn't take it. "I, uh, I remember Hoytsman kidnapping me." He laughs a short laugh, obviously trying to make it seem lighter than it ever was, but that's not the only reason Amy feels her heart jump.

His mind is stuck before their relationship. After Sofia left him. He thinks he's woken up after being injured at work, and there's no one there waiting for him except for a work partner who he's been trying so hard to pretend he doesn't like anymore, and for whom he obviously has to play the "I'm okay!" role still.

"Wow. Uh. Okay." She babbles, trying to find a way to be gentle and not confuse him any more. "Then, uh, I guess, well, your medication should pass soon, I think, and you'll remember more, so don't worry-"

"Amy." He's staring at her when she finally looks up, and notes her shorter hair, her far more comfortable outfit than the pantsuits he sees her wear at work, and even while high on drugs it's not that hard for him to put two and two together. "How much am I missing?"

"Quite a lot." She finally admits, but drops her look down into her lap, to her folded hands, and she unconsciously covers her wedding ring before he can see it. "A few years."

"Years?!" He squeals while leaning forward and then groans, because that has definitely upset his wound.

"It's okay, the nurse said it would happen." She quickly tries to calm him. "It's - you'll remember when the anaesthetic passes properly, so it's alright."

"Alright, yeah." He nods and finally settles into the pillow again, as silence envelops them for a few awkward moments, in which Amy's mind races through all the things he's missing right now.

"Okay." He interrupts her sad little mental storybook of their life's drama. "Let's play a game until then, huh? I call it 'Shock&Tell'."

"Jake-"

"It's easy, you'll get the rules. Basically, you tell me stuff I don't know right now and see how shocked you can get me."

"That's not funny-"

"Oh, I think it is. I know how much you like to have me speechless." He grins at her, and she can't resist.

"Title of your sex tape."

"Amy Santiago!" He gasps with a laugh, but there's hesitation in his eyes, and she remembers they weren't exactly at a flirting stage back where he is right now. "For that alone, you have to play a round with me."

"I can't think of anything shocking at the moment." She lies, and he sees right through her.

"Okay, then tell me the worst thing you think happens to me in those years, and the best. From your opinion."

She sighs and stares at her hands again, but she knows he won't let up - he's not gotten any less obnoxious from back then to now.

"Alright. The worst thing. You went to jail." She states, matter of fact, and watches his eyes practically bulge out of his head.

"Holy shi- WhAT?! Like, for a crime? Or-what-did I-what?!"

"You were innocent!" She says as fast as she can, and watches him deflate only a little.

"I sure fucking hope so! But still, what- how- why- ?"

"You and Rosa were framed by a criminally corrupt cop. It took us a few months to get evidence against her and have her sentenced instead."

"A few months." He whispers and stares at his hands, scrunching up the blanket he's wrapped in.

"You weren't alone." Her voice is soft and calm now, seeing him in such a state of unrest, and it takes all she has not to pull him into a hug - it'd probably both confuse and actually hurt him right now, given the stitches. "I mean, you were alone in prison, but we- the squad - we were all fighting for you and Rosa, and Charles and I visited you, and we- I- we never gave up on you."

He smiles, soft and a little broken, but he nods, as if that was something he'd always expect.

"Okay, now the best thing. Because lemme tell you, Santiago, you have to make up for that suckerpunch."

She smiles much wider now, almost grins as she leans forward to finally reach for his hand, entangling their fingers (to which he goes along almost automatically) and feeling her rings clink against the one on his. Jake's eyes are frozen on her hand in his, where he can see a shiny wedding band over what is clearly his Nana's old engagement ring, and he's barely breathing.

"Oh my god." He whispers a moment later, squeezing her hand almost painfully tight as he looks at her again, and she's still smiling.

"We're married?"

"Yeah."

"To- to each other?"

"Yeah, you doofus." She laughs.

"I'm- I'm your husband." He whispers again. "Even thought I went to jail?!"

"Well", she still laughs softly at the absolute shine in his eyes, the awe on his face. "You proposed after that. But I would've married you before, anyway." I would've married you before a lot of things you don't remember, she thinks but doesn't dare say, for fear he'll ask about those other things.

"You're my wife." He says, still stunned, and she nods. "We're married."

She nods again, and watches as the confused awe on his face turns into an almost relieved joy, and his bottom lip trembles as tears start rolling down his cheeks.

"Jake..." She whispers in turn now, her free hand (that is not currently being gripped by both of his) cupping his face and wiping away some of the tears that keep flowing.

"You're happy?" He asks with trepidation in his voice, and Amy wonders if the emotional rollercoaster is another side-effect of his medicine or just his lowered inhibitions. "I'm a good husband?"

"I couldn't wish for a better husband. You make me very happy." She's almost close to tears now herself. "I love you so much."

He gasps at that, and pulls her still gripped hand up to his face, pulling her closer to him in the process.

"I love you, Amy." is his answer, and she realises he means it, even with all the things he doesn't remember, all the things he doesn't know yet. "I love you so much. I can't believe I get to marry you."

His tears have calmed down a little by now, and she fixes her awkward pose of leaning forward and having both arms reach for his face by climbing up onto the bed with him, as he lowers their hands and looks at her with stars in his eyes and so much love on his face, she can't resist to pass the last few inches and kiss him.

His eyes are still closed when she pulls back and touches her forehead to his, and he's whispering again.

"Wow."

"Well, that's certainly an appreciated reaction." She giggles.

"Don't tell me I don't react like that every time you kiss me, because there's no way I'll believe that."

"Yeah." She smiles again as he opens his eyes and smiles back. "Yeah, you kinda do."

And just to prove it, she kisses him again.

#B99 #Brooklyn 99 #Peraltiago #Jake Peralta #Amy Santiago #my writing #ficlet

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peanut-butter-parkerxx · 3 years

Text

y/n...stark?

peter came to the avengers compound early to surprise Mr Stark but he bumped into....another stark?

warning: language

pairing: peter x Stark!reader

status: strangers

y/n's POV

I was doing my daily morning routine, stretching then getting ready for the day until I hear my dad shout my name

"YES DAD?" i ask rather annoyed that it's just the beginning of the day and he's already asking for me to do stuff.

"ITS YOUR TURN TO MAKE BREAKFAST!" he shouts..again, it's Tuesday already? ughhh. i stumble tot the kitchen with a clearly amused face..can you hear my sarcasm?

"already grumpy huh?" Sam spoke trying to annoy me, which clearly worked.

"shut up Samantha" I give him the side look.

"stop calling me that!"

"not a chance" I stick my tongue out

"ok ok enough guys" my dad oh yeah did I mention my dad's Tony Stark? and the annoying dumbass beside me is Sam Wilson...the FALCON? well once you get to really know them they get very annoying.

"ugh fine, what do you guys want" I say trying to get this over with.

"LADY Y/N! IS IT HER TURN TO COOK?" Thor suddenly barges in, oh no.

"yes Thor now please take it easy on me and don't make me do 20 pancakes JUST for you" I practically beg

"well I'm sorry M'lady but a god has to eat" he says slapping his I-still-don't-know-how fit stomach.

"ugh..great" I say grabbing sauce pans and ingredients to the counter.

"good morning everyone, fury wants us for an emergency meeting" Steve announces giving me a salute to which I salute back, its kind of our thing.

"ok well *claps his hands* good luck y/n, we'll come back in like 30 minutes, oh and if you hear any footsteps go immediately to your room it's probably a cleaner or something" my dad says, the thing is..no one knows THE tony stark has a daughter.

only the avengers do, and its kinda hard living with with like 100 employees who don't know I exist, but that's why my dad made me a schedule.

if I remember correctly there is a new recruit who still doesn't know me yet, peter? I think? he always came in the weekends so I usually just hang out in the basement or in my room.

But I caught a glimpse of him once I couldn't see him really but from what I've seen he looked cute.

"yeah dad I know, don't worry" I reassure him.

"now go! I have a lot of cooking to do!" I say. once everyone left for their meeting I asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to play my cooking playlist.

peter's POV

I finished school early today, it was something about a kid exploding the lab by accident? I don't know I just thanked god it wasn't me because of my web fluids and stuff.

so on my way back home I realized I'll probably be home alone, mays at work right now and she'll come at like 8 or something. so I decided to surprise the avengers!.

when I came inside I couldn't hear anything which was odd because this building is the most chaotic building to ever exist. I asked F.R.I.D.A.Y where the guys are and she said they're all in an important meeting

"but Miss Stark is in the kitchen" she concludes, wait what? Miss Stark? does she mean Pepper? I got so confused but made my way to the kitchen.

while I was walking by the white halls I heard...was that Niall's voice? then i recognized the song, it was 'live while were young' by probably the best boy band that ever existed for us Gen Z's.

but who would listen to one direction? I made everyone listen to it but only Thor, Quill, and Groot liked it, maybe vision but his expressions are unreadable, anyways I made my way to the big kitchen, the song was about to finish and I was only met by a very energetic girl dancing in the kitchen while making breakfast

"TONIGHT LETS GET SOME...and live while we're young" she sings the ending, and I clapped, it was the only thing I could do, my whole body was shocked when she turned around.

her messy bun with a few hairs framing her face and the white tank top that was covered by an oversized jacket, with a simple black leggings made her look beautiful, like seriously how can someone look this good in the morning?

"can I-I help you?" she chokes out looking scared.

"oh uhm who are you?" I ask her

"oh uhhh I can't tell you, are you some employee or student?" she says clearly nervous like her cover has been blown, why though?

"oh uhm no I'm not, I cant tell you either" I say rubbing my neck, she can't know I'm a recruit! she looked tense but then relaxed a bit and said

"wait- can you turn around?"

"wh- why? how are you here"

"can you please just turn around?"

"o-ok.." I turn around getting more confused

"are you the new recruit?" how did she?

"wait- how did you know, who are you?"

"oh uhm I'm y/n.....stark" so that's what F.R.I.D.A.Y meant by 'Miss Stark'! wait STARK?

"Mr Stark has a daughter?"

"yes yes he does and nobody knows about that except the avengers, so I figured if you're a recruit I could tell you, but I don't know why dad didn't tell you" wait dad? oh yeah mister stark, I shook my head a bit to focus

"but why did you as me to turn around"

"oh uh *giggle* I've been eavesdropping on you and my dad's conversations...so I kinda recognized your hair then I asked you to turn around to make sure and i was right, sorry that sounds really creepy I-"

"no its fine *laughs* so you've been stalking me?" I smirk

"wha- no I wasn't I was just curious!" she defends

"its fine I was just messing with you"

"oh" she laughs. god her laugh is cute.

"oh I'm peter, by the way peter parker" I say extending my hand

"nice to meet you" she smiles

"you too" I say looking the cabinets "so what are you making?" I ask looking at the ingredients.

"pancakes...a lot of pancakes" I gave her a confused look tilting my head

"its my turn to make breakfast for the team, and Thor by himself eats like 20 pancakes" she says exaggerating the '20' I gave an 'oh' and nodded my head

"do you need help?" I ask her hoping she'd say 'yes'

"uhh sure!" wooohooo!!

"great" play it cool peter

y/n's POV

soo I unexpectedly met peter today, and I was wrong he wasn't cute, he was GORGEOUS. OH MY GOD, why did my dad keep him from me, I can't believe I'm crushing this quick y/n stop.

he asked me if he could help me, what a gentleman! I obviously said yes, trying not to sound too excited but I guess he caught on because he smiled to himself and replied with a "great".

so we were dancing together making pancakes and cutting fresh fruits

"no peter! that's the flour we need sugar! SUGAR" I laughed

"SORRY, SORRY" he laughs as well, to say we were chaotic was an understatement, but I loved every minute of it.

"PETER NO YOU CANT FLIP IT LIKE THAT!" but he was seriously driving me crazy.

"like this" I say scooting over to him, taking the spatula and slowly fixing his mistake, I didn't realize how close we were until I finished, our hips were basically glued together, his face was so close to mine, I could smell his fresh cologne. I absentmindedly lowered my hand while looking at him until some of the oil touched my skin.

"shit!" I flinched, almost falling but soon got caught by peter, his hands were wrapped around my waist securely.

"are you ok?" he asked lowly.

"yeah I-I'm fine" I've never been this close to a boy before, he looked genuinely worried which only erupted more butterflies in my stomach. 'I want to write you a song' by 1D came on, what a surprise! if you couldn't tell yet, I'm obsessed with 1D.

"thank you" I said wiggling from his grasp.

"oh sorry" he says and steps back, I already missed his touch, his warmth but I couldn't think like that so I just absentmindedly hummed to the song, swaying my hips while wiping the counters. after a few seconds, peter walked to my direction and extended his hands.

"wanna dance?" he says softly, can he get any cuter?

"wh- *giggle* of course" I say interlocking our hands. his hands were back around my waist, but this time he pulled me closer

"I wanna write you a song" we both sung quietly, smiling to each other. we kept swaying and swaying.

"hey y/n" he says getting nervous with every syllable coming out of his mouth.

"yeah?" I say looking up at his beautiful brown eyes

"w-would you like t-to hangout sometime?" he stutters, I just looked at him, his stuttering was so cute, why do I have such a soft spot for soft boys?

"you know coz I had so much fun today and-" he was trying to reason with me, then I realized I haven't said anything so I just hugged him tight.

"yes" I breath out "I had fun too" he looked relieved

"great" we kept swaying and laughing at some joke

"hey y/n is the pancakes ready, I'm starvi- WHAT THE HELL?" my dad suddenly enters, looking furious that some boy has his hands on his daughters waist, well he's technically not ANY boy am I right? we both looked terrified and obviously backed away from each other

"h-hey Mr S-Stark" peter says rubbing his back

"so you guys met, huh?" we both nodded sheepishly, looking at the ground.

"this is exactly why I didn't want you guys to meet at the first place" he face palms.

have a good morning/afternoon/evening/night <3

- quacksonlover

#spiderman #peter parker x fem #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker fluff #ned leeds #may parker #aunt may #the avengers #mcu #michelle jones #marvel #sony pictures #imagines #peter parker x reader #fluff #peter #parker #avengers

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maybe-your-left · 4 years

Text

Fish Out of Water

OOPS did I write a Kylo Ren tidbit of him learning how to swim with CollegeStudent!Reader to state my lust for this post ? The answer is yes.

_____

It was a lazy Sunday morning, the perfect time for a workout without the team on your back. After all, you were the swim team captain this year, everyone was putting pressure on you to make a name for yourself. But you just loved the water, the two of you shared a bond that you couldn’t explain, so when you had the chance for a quick T-45* Who are you to say no?

The walk to campus was short, all the leaves were falling off the trees. Autumn was so beautiful in Boston, the air was filled with a steady breeze, the colors were changing, and there was always a smell of ground coffee around. It was the best time of year, school was starting up again and you were excited to finally be in your program after two years of gen eds.

Walking into the pool you threw back the hood of your practice jacket and smiled at the lifeguard. You were a regular, even when you weren’t going to practice, sometimes bringing in coffee for the morning guards or just little shows of thanks since they always were picked on by nosey patrons. Quickly scanning the area you noticed a newcomer, a very tall, very wide, covered in head to toe black was scanning the pool from the deck. You weren’t able to see his face but his aura exuded anger. He looked like he was getting ready to fight with the lane lines. Scoffing you pushed past him and got to the end of your lane and began disrobing. You wore your favorite lime green Jolyn* suit, you always felt so powerful in it and dragging out your cap and goggles. Stepping up to the pool gutters, you dipped a toe in tentatively. Fuck it was cold today, just a slight touch in was already making your body shiver.

Just as you were putting on your cap you noticed the stranger again, walking to the right of your lane. Still with his black hoodie up and wearing black joggers. Up close you noticed he was a lot bigger than you, probably would sink right to the bottom. The stranger’s body faced forward at the water but his face turned slightly to you.

“Is it cold?” he asked

“Uh, no but it sure is wet,” a joke you shared with your teammates. You were never to say the water was cold, always ‘wet’.

The strange returned his gaze to the water before turning around and setting his back a few feet from yours. You noticed a weird symbol on the bag but didn’t recognize it. He pulled off his hoodie revealing an extremely broad back. Littered with freckles and several scars, each one jagged and deep across him, each one telling a story. You tried not to linger too long, in fear you’d get caught. Quickly putting on your cap and goggles you dove in.

The water really was cold, biting at your skin, causing you to take faster breaths as you begin your set. Gliding through the still pool you are brought back to the calmness of the morning. How wonderful it felt to be one with the water. Coming back from the other end you saw someone enter next to your lane. The stranger must’ve finally got the nerve to try. Forcing yourself not to spy you slid past him on your way to the wall. You had to finish your warmup before you stopped, it wouldn’t be nice to just do one lap and then hawk at the giant next to you.

From your flip turn you were able to sneak and peek and had to force yourself to not choke in water. The stranger was struggling to say the least. You were surprised he was even moving forward, you had to keep your composure while he made his way across the pool. It wasn’t horrible, but he wasn’t doing great. He was swimming with his head fully out of the water, his kicks were uneven and his arms were really the only thing moving him forward. He swam like a military man who only swam to survive, not for exercise, he needed help. So you did what was natural for you, moving across the pool with ease. You met him at the opposite wall and took your cap and goggles off.

“Hi, this is awkward but can I help you?” you tried to suppress a giggle.

Gasping for air he turned and met your gaze. “What are you” turning his head away from you he coughed up some water, “talking about?”

“Not to be rude but you’re a really bad swimmer.”

“Do you have a point? You’re ruining my motivation.” he huffed and started to turn around to start across the pool again.

“Wait wait wait, let me help you! You’re going to pull a muscle if you keep swimming like that.” Reaching across the lane you grabbed his shoulders to try to keep him from moving again. He took in a deep breath before he turned to look at you again. “Is it that obvious I don’t know how to swim?”

Smiling at him you motioned for him to move into your lane. He slid across the lane, not so gracefully, and met you on the wall. It seemed like he was trying to keep his hair dry, which was a valid concern. Chlorine was notorious for giving ‘swimmer hair’ and you had noticed that he had quite the long locks. “So now what?”

“Oh right, umm okay you need to put your face in the water. You aren’t doing your neck any favors by keeping it out.”

“My hair gets in my eyes if I do.”

Rolling your eyes you pulled yourself up to sit in the gutter. Pointing down between your knees for him to come in front of you he obliged without a word. You then took a hair tie from your wrist and braided back the hairs that framed his face and made a little man bun. His hair was extremely silky as you fixed it, you wondered what it would feel like to pull it while he shoved his tongue down your throat. A cough took you back to reality. “Okay so that fixes the hair issue, now let’s get you swimming! Do you have goggles?”

“What?”

“Goggles? They protect your eyes from the chlorine…” you motioned to your own pair.

“No, I wasn’t aware swimming required so many items.”

“Okay well I have extras in my bag so let’s just swim across and then I can help you get more comfortable.”

Once across the pool you began your lesson. Teaching him what freestyle was, how to breathe to your side, correct arm positioning, pointing toes, all that jazz. During which he kept his questions to a bare minimum, seeming to try and soak in as much information as possible. By the end of the hour he had improved… a little. He definitely got tired quickly but he wasn’t drowning anymore.

Turning to climb out of the pool he turned to you once again and spoke.

“Thank you, my coach said it would be smart to try and work swimming into my routine.”

“No problem, you can keep those goggles by the way, I have tons of them.”

He shook his head and tried to hand them to you, climbing out with you. “No you’ve helped me enough.”

“Really it’s okay, they aren’t even my practice ones. They won’t be missed.”

He stared down at the goggles in his hands, tossing and turning them over and over. Clearing his throat he raised his head and looked back at you.

“At least let me repay you,” he started again, “Can I buy you a coffee?”

You thought for a moment, you didn’t know this man. He was unconventionally handsome, and he seemed gracious for your help. It had been awhile since you sat down and had a drink with someone. The swim meet schedule had kept you busy from all social outlets last semester, you were practically a hermit if not for your roommates.

“Uh yeah, sounds good, let me just change real quick?”

“Sure, I’ll wait for you in the lobby.” He turned to grab his towel but stopped himself. “My name is Kylo by the way.”

You grinned back at him, it felt good to not have him be just ‘the stranger’ anymore.

“My names (Y/N). Now let’s go get that coffee I'm freezing.”

_____

TAGLIST: @finn-ray-nal-beads youre welcome sara

* A T-45 is a workout that is just you swimming for 45 minutes straight. It's really good for endurance swimmers and an easy way to get in a ‘lazy workout’

* Here is the suit in question, Jolyn makes awesome swimwear that's not just for competitive swimmers! https://jolyn.com/products/swim-onesies-jackson-4?variant=14283500290097 Just imagine its lime green :)

okay so i found out that i have a kink for adam driver playing michael phelps in a movie, i’m not surprised in any way it just needs to happen. He is built like the perfect swimmer and I need it. this kink is mine and i’m proud of it.

#adamdriver #clyde-logan #kylo ren #flip zimmerman #swimming #kylo sucks #we love him

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myheartrevealedocs · 4 years

Text

Untouchable Ch 25: Minimal Loss (S4E3)

[TW!!] Warnings: (This is the same content as found in the episode, so if you’ve seen it, don’t worry too much, but I find this one to deal with multiple sensitive topics at once, and I don’t gloss over it all, like I often do, so be careful) mentions of rape and pedophilia, depictions of torture, cults, murder-suicide

Ch 24 | Ch 26

A/N: Okay, so I’m four days late on posting this, but this is quite possibly the longest chapter I’ve posted, so hopefully that makes up for it?

~ ~ ~

Lydia’s family stayed for about a week, attached to Lydia at the hip the whole time. She loved her sister dearly and was glad to have some time with her father, but she could barely breathe by the time she was taking them to the airport. As she explained to Spencer, she was merely frustrated they didn’t give her any heads up.

Luckily, they left before her teaching schedule came back into full swing at the university. It was nice to get back into her routine and see some of her students and coworkers who were worried about her. She didn’t realize how close she’d gotten to the people there until the letters, phone calls, emails, and gifts started flooding in, telling her to take it easy and get back soon.

And then, in October, Hotch finally gave her a call for a case.

It was small, but she wanted to get out of her apartment so bad.

Hotch was sending Lydia and Prentiss to Colorado where there was a claim against a separation church leader raping young girls.

Spencer wasn’t exactly thrilled to hear Lydia was leaving, but the whole thing was fairly straight-forward: interview the kids, determine what they could about the cult itself, then see if there was reason to shut them down. Hotch knew that there wasn’t going to be any extraneous activity, so it was a perfect start to reintroducing Lydia to the field. Not to mention, she was very perceptive and a master manipulator.

“Tell us about the 911 call,” she said as she flipped through a file on the people of the church.

Emily was in the front seat with Nancy Lunde, from Child Protective Services. She was the head of the case and had the most prior knowledge on the group itself. “I believe the ‘he’ that they referred to is the church’s leader, Benjamin Cyrus.”

“Benjamin Cyrus,” Lydia mumbled, flipping to his page. “No criminal record. No record at all, really. I doubt it’s a real name. Correct me if I’m wrong, Emily, but Cyrus is a biblical name. A monarch. I’m seeing some subtle messages in there.”

“It translates to ‘sun’ in persian,” Emily agreed. “What else do you know about him?”

Lunde shook her head. “It’s rumored that he’s practicing polygamy and forced marriages,” she said, but it sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Any idea who the caller is?”

“Uh, Jessica Evanson is the one who the age fits, but… we can’t be sure. So I negotiated interviews with all the children. It wasn’t easy.”

“Well, considering their view on outsiders, it would be best if you didn’t identify us as FBI,” Emily explained and Lydia got to work on their covers. She took their guns, holsters, and badges, hiding them in the door of the car and handed Emily two fake IDs. “Just use our real names and introduce us as child victim interview experts.”

The Bureau had made them brand new drivers licences and CPS badges with Colorado addresses to complete their cover stories.

All too soon, they were approaching the front gate. The sign read ‘Liberty Church Ranch’ with a large cross beside it.

It was hot outside and Lydia could feel the dust coating her nose and throat as she exited the car, approaching a set of stairs leading up to the church.

“I’m looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus?” Lunde called to a figure on the steps.

“You found him.”

Cyrus wore a light flannel and jeans, with reading glasses perched on his nose and a book in his lap. Lydia had to hold herself back from calling him out on framing the scene. Oh, look how kind and relaxed we are. Our leader sits outside and reads books all day blahblahblahbl-

Open mind, Lydia.

“I’m Nancy Lunde. We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.”

He got up and approached the three of them. “‘Savages they call us. ‘Cause our manners differ from theirs.’”

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus,” the red-headed woman huffed.

“Actually, that’s Benjamin Franklin,” he sneered.

Nancy ignored this, and began introducing them. “Emily Prentiss, Lydia Ambers. They’re child victim interview experts.”

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be the need to invent a job called child victim interview expert?” Cyrus wondered.

“We wish we didn’t have to be here,” Emily said.

“So do we. But you are welcome, nonetheless. The children are in the school as I indicated.”

“Thank you.”

Lydia nodded and followed Emily off to the school building.

~ ~ ~

Jessica Evanson was not the kid they were looking for. Lydia could tell the moment she walked into the interview room. She was completely calm, the perfect child. Her hair was neatly brushed back, her polo shirt well ironed, and her hands folded neatly in front of her.

Her mother, Kathy, stood beside her, petting her hair gently, as if to reassure her, but Jessica clearly didn’t need it. She wasn’t intimidated by their presence at all.

“We go to school. We do our chores. And we treat ourselves and each other with the respect God demands.”

Emily sat across from her, conducting the interview, and Lydia stood beside her.

“But you’ve never been off of the ranch?” Emily asked.

“I brought Jessie here when she was two,” Kathy explained.

Jessica clearly was not having any of this. “You’ve talked to lots of children in your work. Tell me, are their lives somehow better than ours?”

“We devote ourselves to God,” Kathy continued. “That doesn’t mean we’re not devoted to our children.”

“We are not here because of your religious beliefs,” Emily reasoned.

“Why are you here?” Jessica demanded.

She was starting to become hostile. She grew up in a cult that taught her to hate outsiders, so Lydia couldn’t blame her for her behavior. But her mother was clearly a peacemaker, so where did she learn it from? It wasn’t defiance from her family, because that would put her against the group, not for it.

“We received a phone call alleging that an adult male member of your church was having inappropriate relations with the younger women here.”

“You’re talking about Cyrus,” she responded, almost immediately.

“What makes you say that?” Emily asked.

Her mother immediately became defensive, trying to get her daughter to be quiet, but Jessica was still determined to make a point.

“Is it inappropriate for a husband to share a bed with his wife?”

Lydia’s eyes shot open. His what?

“You are married to Cyrus?” Emily spoke slowly, as if worried that the question would escalate the situation, but Jessica stayed proper in stance, if not in tongue.

“Yes. Cyrus is my husband and a prophet. It’s an honor to bear his children.”

It took everything in Lydia not to look disgusted by the thought and keep the interview going. “Jessica, you aren’t old enough to get married without parental consent.”

Emily nodded at the mother. “She gave consent.”

Before anyone could continue, a loud sound from outside got their attention. There was some yelling and suddenly Cyrus and a few other men were rushing in, machine guns in hand.

Lydia let her shock show on her face. Not just that they had the weapons, but that they would carry them around a school where CPS workers were present.

“Get up!” Cyrus demanded, turning on her and Emily. “Get up! Move!”

On the other side of the room, Nancy was entertaining the other kids. “What’s going on?” she asked softly.

“We just got a very strange phone call from a news reporter,” Cyrus began and a man walked around Emily and started to pat her down for weapons.

They were both unarmed, but Lydia was starting to regret that. These men were clearly threatened by their presence. What the hell had happened?

Another man walked around to check her and unceremoniously smacked her in the side, causing her to wince involuntarily. Cyrus clearly noticed this, but said nothing, continuing on with his point.

“Is there anything you want to tell me? About a raid, maybe?”

She and Emily exchanged a concerned look. A raid? They weren’t prepared for that. They had checked in with the state before joining child services to the ranch, there shouldn’t have been a raid on this church.

Luckily for them, Cyrus took their concern for fear and nodded. “They don’t know,” he determined. “Bring them along.”

A man grabbed Lydia’s arm and dragged her across the room, where another armed man was opening a hatch in the wall. A tunnel. A few guards went first, then they started ushering the people in. Women with their kids, Nancy, Emily, and Lydia all surrounded by machine guns, leaping into a dark hole underneath the church.

The passage underneath the buildings was too thin to walk side by side, so the guards let them go on by themselves.

“What’s going on?” Nancy whispered to the two FBI members ahead of her.

“We’re not sure yet,” Emily hissed. “Just stay calm.”

As they reached a large opening directly underneath the chapel, they could hear gunfire from above ground.

Prentiss pulled Lydia aside, trying to get as far away from the crowd as possible. “If this escalates, Cyrus is going to put this place on lockdown. The FBI is going to be in charge of negotiations as long as we’re inside. Do you know the Critical Incident Response Group handbook?”

Lydia shook her head quickly. God, it would be helpful if Spencer were here. He probably knew that book front and back. Lydia didn’t know what she was doing.

“Okay.” Emily fumbled, trying to determine what was important for Lydia to know before they had to revert back to their covers. “CIRG will bug all the windows and anything else they can get to. So, anything you need them to know, find a way to say it out loud. Keep the inside members talking. We won’t be able to know what the team already knows so tell them everything. If there are blinds on a window, they might be blocking the sound, so try and get them out of the way before speaking.”

“Best hope it doesn’t come to that,” Lydia argued, but the sound of the gunfire overhead was diminishing her hopes of getting out any time soon. She just hoped Spencer didn’t know what was going on.

At the sound of Cyrus’s voice, the two girls stepped away from one another, trying to blend in with the crowd.

“Alright! Move quietly! Quickly, go to the left! Everybody stay together!” he ordered, pushing his way through the room. “Children, listen to your parents. Have faith.”

“Where did these guns come from?” Emily whispered hurriedly and Lydia glanced around her to see what she was looking at.

Wooden crates lined the walls, each labelled as bullets or magazines. Leaning into the corners were more machine guns. Buckets of them.

“I thought Garcia checked with the state police to see if they were involved in…” Lydia trailed off, not sure how to frame the inquiry, but luckily Emily was on the same page.

“Someone lied to us. You don’t just lose track of these weapons, not when you’re already watching this group.”

“At least the raid is unrelated to the FBI,” Lydia reasoned. “Our cover is still intact. But you’re right… someone from the Colorado government just ruined their career. Once we’re back in Quantico, Hotch is going to lose his shit.”

Lunde approached the two of them once more. “This is ridiculous,” she sneered.

“It’s okay,” Emily tried again. “Just calm down.”

Cyrus continued to reassure his followers, telling them that God would look out for them as long as they stayed calm.

Once he had disappeared, Nancy was arguing with them once more. “It’s the state police. I’m an officer of the state.”

“Well, there’s nothing we can do right now.”

“I can talk to him.”

“No!” Emily rushed after her but Nancy was already halfway through the crowd of people. “You can’t. It’s dangerous. Nancy, stop!”

The woman rushed out of the room and before the two of them could follow, one of the guards blocked their way. The other went after Nancy, but she was booking it back up to the ground level of the chapel.

Shit. This was starting to look… bad.

She stood next to Emily at the front of the group, anxiously waiting for the battle to cease, but the hail of bullets above them never slowed. After a minute or two, Cyrus came stumbling back down the stairs.

“Do not fear! We are on the side of the righteous.”

Behind him was the guard that went after Nancy, but no Nancy herself.

“Where’s Lunde?” Emily asked him.

“It wasn’t us.”

“What?!” Lydia screeched, then quickly lowered her voice, seeing the attention she had attracted. “You can’t shoot it out with the cops! You have children here!”

“I didn’t start this,” Cyrus argued back.

Emily was clearly distraught watching him reload his gun, then take off with the rest of the men to the roof.

“The BAU is coming,” she whispered.

~ ~ ~

“Reid!”

JJ’s voice reached Spencer from the center of the bullpen and he looked up from his email curiously. “Hm?”

Her eyes were on the TV she was in the process of starting up and he noticed that Morgan was also looking up at it intently. It lit up in the middle of a news report.

“...a routine questions and answers meeting by Colorado child services-”

Colorado… that’s where Lydia and Prentiss were…

“-has turned into a violent and deadly standoff between Colorado authorities and a fringe religious group known as the Separtarian Sect.”

Spencer jumped up, joining Morgan and JJ in the middle of the room, his mind still not coming to terms with what was happening.

“JJ,” Morgan breathed, standing up, his eyes not leaving the TV, “That’s not the ranch where Prentiss and Ambers-”

“They’re still inside,” she said, softly.

Spencer’s legs almost gave out underneath him.

“HOTCH!” Morgan screamed.

The unit chief was rushing out a moment later to see what was going on, but Spencer didn’t pay him any attention. His eyes were glued to the screen in front of him. Where’s Lydia? Where’s Lydia? Where’s Lydia???

“...While no one knows for sure how many people are inside, it is believed that at least three of the child service members are still trapped within the compound.”

~ ~ ~

Spencer sat on the couch of the jet, his head in his hands, listening intently to the ongoing news report on Morgan’s laptop.

“...turned deadly when the Colorado state police officers tried to serve a warrant. Colorado Attorney General Jim Wells says the reclusive cult has been the subject of a 6-month weapons investigation.”

“Six months,” Morgan repeated. “We didn’t check?”

“No. We checked,” JJ argued. “I had ATF call Wells. He told ATF there were no pending state investigations. He lied.”

“Why?” Rossi demanded.

“Wells is challenging the governor in the next election. He thought that ATF was about to poach his big election-launching weapons bust,” JJ explained. “Now, it’s clear he didn’t know there were FBI agents there. He just thought the best time to serve a state warrant was when the kids were safe inside the school being interviewed.”

“Agent,” Spencer corrected quietly, his head finally lifting from his own grasp.

“What was that?” JJ asked.

“There aren’t ‘FBI agents’ in there. There’s only one.”

It seemed to slip everyone’s mind that Lydia wasn’t an agent. They looked around nervously, noticing the edge in Spencer’s voice as he corrected them. Hotch was the first one to speak up.

“Ambers may not be an agent, but she’s not a civilian, Reid. She can look out for herself.”

“The FBI only worries about their own,” Spencer hissed.

“She is one of our own,” Morgan fired back. “We’re going to get her out of there, just like Prentiss.”

“Just like all of the hostages,” Hotch continued.

Not wanting to argue more, Spencer nodded at him, then jumped up from his seat and walked to the back of the plane, unable to listen to any more. The media wouldn’t be able to tell him what he wanted to know, anyway.

“Hey, Spence,” JJ called as she approached him at the refreshment table. “I know you’re worried about Lydia, but we need your help on this case. You gotta stay focused, okay?”

“JJ, she’s in the middle of a deadly standoff and she’s still recovering from getting shot last May. Injured tissue takes months to repair itself and it’s going to take even longer for her to regain abdominal strength.”

“I’m sure that she’s safe inside the church with the other hostages.”

“Even if that’s true, I-” He shook his head. “I always seem to be away from her when she needs me most. When that bomb went off in Annandale, when Sonia had a stroke, when Frank got her… Why does it always feel like I can’t reach her?”

JJ sighed, contemplating his question. “I don’t know, Spence. I wish I did.”

~ ~ ~

Once the police had fallen back, Cyrus brought the two of them into a seperate room. Clearly he wasn’t sure how to deal with outsiders being barricaded in with his people. As him and his men tried to assess the damage done to the church and get people back inside, Emily was prepping Lydia for the worst.

“Don’t antagonize them,” she tried to reason. “I know you’re not a fan, but we need to know everything we can. They won’t tell you anything if they don’t think they can trust you.”

“There are two ways to find things out, Em.”

“What are you talking about?” Her voice was sprinkled with annoyance. Emily knew that Lydia tended to be very blunt. She didn’t need to worry about Cyrus killing Lydia when she was supposed to be helping the team get these people out.

“You keep Cyrus’s favor. But someone here doesn’t believe him, or else we wouldn’t have gotten that phone call. They’re going to seek us out.”

It wasn’t a terrible plan, she realized. One of them learn from the higher ups, the other speak to the underdogs. “You want to play two different sides?”

Lydia nodded. “For the time being.”

“Okay. That means we have to distance ourselves, though. Act unfamiliar with one another.”

“Brief me faster, then.”

She was on top of it from that point on. “The hostage negotiator’s job is to slowly get the women and children out. They want as few innocent people inside when they raid. But if they think anyone inside is in danger, they’ll come in, no matter what. We can speak to them through the mics on the windows, but they have no way of talking to us. So if we need to know anything, they’ll tell us through other means. Look out for signs from them. They’ll be listening to our every word…”

~ ~ ~

Hotch had put Rossi in charge of being the lead negotiator, in the hopes that he was both objective enough to not be blinded by his care for Prentiss and Ambers, but also knew them well enough to predict how they’d react while still inside.

Frankly, Spencer wasn’t sure he could do either. He hoped that Lydia would play it safe, but a part of him knew that she was just too impulsive.

The entire team gathered around as Rossi made his first call to the church, waiting to find out what happened to their friends.

“You killed my mommy and daddy. Are you going to kill me too?”

A kid. A little girl had answered the phone. It wasn’t surprising that Cyrus had set something like this up, but it was frustrating nonetheless.

“No one is going to kill you, honey,” Rossi said calmly.

Then, there was a shift. A new voice. “This is Benjamin Cyrus. Who am I talking to?”

“David Rossi. I’m an FBI agent. We sent the state police away. There’s just us and the local sheriff. All we wanna do is resolve this before anyone else gets hurt.”

“Then leave us alone.”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that, Benjamin. One of the police bled out on the way to the hospital. So let’s just stop this before things get worse. Please, just put down your guns and come out.”

“We’re believers, Dave. We believe God says what he means and means what he says. His laws don’t depend on what state you live in.”

“I have no issue with your beliefs.”

“You don’t, but the state does.”

This was taking too long. Spencer needed to make sure they were okay. He needed to make sure Lydia was okay.

“I can’t answer for other people.”

“Oh, God will answer for everyone in the final battle I’ve foreseen.”

“That’s why I’m here. To make sure that this is not that battle.”

“We shall see.”

“Now, the three child service workers...”

“One of them is dead.”

Everyone’s heads shot up. Dead. Dead…

“It wasn’t us.”

Rossi leaned away from the phone, trying to take in a deep breath before continuing. “I need a name to inform the family.”

“Her name was Nancy Lunde.”

The relief between them was almost a solid entity, letting their eyelids hang heavy as they realized neither of their friends had died. But someone had.

“Okay. Now, please, Benjamin, send out your wounded. I promise you they’ll be well taken care of.”

“With enough supplies we can tend to our own.”

“Okay. I need a few hours to put it together. I’ll bring them up myself at first light.”

With news that supplies was coming, Cyrus hung up the phone and the rest of the team was left to ponder what to do now.

~ ~ ~

Lydia and Emily didn’t know much about their situation until the next morning. Everyone was assembled in the chapel to pray. Cyrus had sent the two of them to the end of a row of chairs, trapped in by the wall. Not that there was any point in running anyway. There were men at all exits, guns at the ready.

A soft knocking came from the church entrance and to Lydia’s surprise, Cyrus opened the door. It was difficult to see at first, with all the armed men surrounding him, but after a moment of discussion, Lydia was able to make out Rossi walking through the front door, a box of bandages in his arms.

Despite everything Emily had told her, Lydia could feel a twist in her heart. The BAU was right outside. Spencer was here.

Dear lord, he was never going to let her leave their apartment again.

Lydia reminded herself to steady her facial expressions. Cyrus had no suspicions of their connection to the FBI yet and she wasn’t about to give him any. She silently prayed that whatever Rossi was bringing in was bugged, so that she wouldn’t have to make sure all the important dialogue happened by a window.

They took his supplies, patted him down, and then Cyrus walked him down the center isle. Lydia couldn’t make out much of their conversation, but it seemed like Rossi was trying to convince Cyrus to let some people go.

Their discussion took all of about 30 seconds, then Cyrus was ushering him back out the door. With Rossi gone, Cyrus started giving instructions to his right hand man, Cole, then indicated for Lydia and Emily to get up.

The two of them exchanged a look before standing and walking to the back of the chapel.

“We’re going to have communion,” Cyrus informed them. “Feel free to stand and watch for the time being.”

They nodded politely, noticing Cole at the front with a jug of wine and stacks of plastic cups. A few of the men went around, passing them out while Cyrus poured each person a sip of wine.

“We are celebrating,” he announced. “Everyone drinks. Everyone rejoices. Because today we are one day closer to being with Him.”

“Look at Jessica’s body language,” Emily whispered. “The way she looks at him.”

Lydia nodded. “She literally worships him. There’s no way she made that 911 call.”

“Trust in God with all your heart. Lean not on your own understandings. Trust in mine.”

As Cyrus kept talking, Kathy stood up and walked over to the row her daughter was sitting in, leaning over her and speaking quietly. Jessica tried multiple times to nod and turn her attention back to Cyrus, but her mother kept talking.

“Look at how she comes between Cyrus and her daughter,” Emily continued. “She’s inserted herself between them.”

“Acknowledge Him in all things and He will guide your way. Drink to acknowledge him and I will guide our way.”

Everyone lifted their cups together and followed Cyrus in raising it to their mouths. Men, women, and children alike drank the entirety of their share and watched him intently.

“We will be with him soon. We have drank the poison together.”

Lydia was almost too distracted by the audience's reactions to comprehend what this meant. Some seemed completely calm, maybe even relieved. While others gasped or looked around wildly. It was easy to see a line between the diehard believers and the… less-so believers.

“Mothers… Fathers… Children… Though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we fear no evil. For thou art with us. And God will wipe the tears from their eyes, and there will be no more death nor sorrow nor crying. And there will be no more pain. For all of the former things have passed away.”

Some families grouped together, mothers holding tight to their kids. A few of the loners cried silently while the rest nodded to Cyrus in admiration. It was a wild array of people he’d collected.

“What do we do?” Emily hissed.

Lydia blinked, beginning to realize that the team was probably thinking the same thing. They wanted to save these people. If the bugs were working, they could hear Cyrus announce their imminent death.

“I don’t think he’s telling the truth,” Lydia admitted, looking Emily in the eyes.

She looked frantic. Her instinct to help was kicking in, but there was no way for her to act on it. “What makes you so sure?”

“Look at Cole.” She nodded up to the stage. “He’s writing in a notebook. I think Cyrus told him to make note of the people who had a bad reaction to the news.”

Emily’s gaze followed that of Lydia’s. At that point, both Cole and Cyrus were scanning the crowd. “They’re writing down the names of the people who are crying,” Emily realized.

“It’s a loyalty list,” Lydia finished out. “He wants to know who will follow him to the end.”

“Be still.” Cyrus’s voice broke through their conversation just in time to confirm their theories. “There was no poison. Instead a test of faith. Because your adversary, the Devil, walketh about as a roaring lion! Choosing whom he may devour. Watch each other for signs of weakness. You are your brother’s keeper.”

“What’s he going to do with those that the Devil has devoured?” Lydia asked slowly, but Emily shook her head, not ready to consider it yet.

~ ~ ~

“You exhausted yet?” Emily asked jokingly as the two of them lay up against the stone walls of the basement. Cyrus had brought the two of them back down there a few hours ago and left them on their own.

“You’ll excuse me if I didn't get much sleep last night,” Lydia shot back. “A cement bomb shelter isn’t exactly my idea of comfort.”

“No kidding.” She was on the opposite wall, one leg propped up on the wooden bench she had taken. “You should try to get some sleep now. We don’t know how long we’ll be here. I’d rather have you well rested when the raid starts.”

“I would try, but-”

They swiftly stopped their discussion as the sound of footsteps echoed through the halls. Cyrus was at the door and he looked pissed.

“Ambers. Stand up.”

Her and Emily shared a curious look, but she did as he said and got up from her bench.

“Lift up your shirt,” he ordered.

“What the hell?” she demanded, but Cyrus had already stepped between her and Emily, reaching for the hem of her shirt and pulling it up above her waist. “Hey! what are you-?”

“That’s what I thought,” he grumbled. “Child interviewers don’t often get shot, do they?”

Lydia glanced down nervously at the bullet wound on her side. She had seen the weird look he gave her when his men had searched her and hit it painfully, but she never would have thought it would lead to blowing her cover.

“I don’t know why you…”

Dropping the front of her shirt, he reached up and grabbed a chunk of her hair, pulling her head back painfully. “We just got word that there was an undercover FBI agent in our midst. Care to explain that?”

Lydia hissed through gritted teeth. “What do you want?”

“You’re not CPS, are you?”

His grip was getting stronger by the minute. She didn’t like the idea of blowing her cover, but he already knew it was one of them. Might as well let him think it was only her.

“No. You were right,” she admitted. “I work for the FBI.”

Now, Lydia didn’t expect him to thank her for her honesty and let her go, but it still came as a shock when he walked off, while still holding her hair. Her feet were immediately yanked out from underneath her, not prepared enough to steady herself, but Cyrus just kept going, not deterred in the slightest by her weight.

Lydia groaned, her hands wrapped around his wrist in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure, but it did very little. Luckily he didn’t take her very far, throwing her down on the ground inside a nearby supply closet.

“I told you not to put me in this position!”

She moved to look up at him, but he was faster, swinging an arm up to her chin and knocking her down onto her back. Upon her next attempt to stand, she received a swift kick in the stomach.

“Ugh.” Her left side lit on fire in an instant and she stayed on the ground, her arms and legs wrapping protectively around her abdomen.

“Get up!” Cyrus sneered.

He reached for one of her arms and pulled her to her feet. Lydia flinched away from him as he threw an arm above his head and brought it down against the side of her face. There was a mirror on the wall behind her which shattered as her right arm moved to steady herself.

“Proverbs 20:30 tells us blows and wounds cleanse away evil.” As he said this, he held her still against the broken mirror so that she could see herself.

It wasn’t until she physically saw the blood dripping from her nose that she could taste its warmth on the edges of her mouth. The temple that he hit was tinged pink, but from the way it ached, Lydia knew it would be a dark purple by evening. And her right arm, which was still lodged in the remaining pieces of the mirror was staining the white sleeve of her shirt.

She shrieked as he threw her backwards again, running into the shelf of canned goods against the opposite wall.

The BAU is listening, she remembered. And Emily said that if they thought someone was in danger, they’d begin the raid.

They needed to prepare. They hadn’t gotten any of the children out yet. If the team could hear her and decided to come in prematurely, a lot of people would die. Lydia wasn’t about to let that happen.

There was a window towards the back of the closet she was in. She could only hope that Spencer was listening.

“Careful.” Her voice was shaky and unconvincing, but she made sure Cyrus saw the anger in her eyes. This message wasn’t for him. “Hit me too hard and everyone will see the bruises on your knuckles.”

“No one is going to care,” he replied calmly. “You came here to shut us down! I’m protecting them!”

“From me?” Her laugh came out almost maniacal with her bruised stomach and battered jaw. “I’m fine! I got bruises on my knuckles too! I can take it!”

“Pride comes before the fall.”

His next blow sent her into the metal shelf again, this time her skull ricocheting against one of the sides and knocking her to the floor. She was just able to see a few drops of blood land on the ground below her, though she couldn’t identify where exactly on her face they came from, before her arms shakily gave out and her cheek hit the cold cement.

She prayed silently to whoever may be listening that Spencer understood. She really hoped she didn’t face all that torment in vain.

~ ~ ~

“We’ve got audio!” Morgan called from across their tent set up.

Spencer ran as fast as he could to the panel controlling the microphone feedback, throwing on a set of headphones.

Hotch hadn’t let him do anything for the past day, claiming he was the most emotionally involved in the situation. And although he couldn’t argue with that fact, it killed him to sit and listen. Lydia was right there. She was in the building just over that hill. And he wasn’t allowed to see her, talk to her, call her, save her.

When the fact that an FBI agent was in the church hit the news, Spencer felt an anchor drop to the bottom of his stomach. She wasn’t even an agent. There was nothing to suggest Cyrus would target her. But his instincts screamed that Emily wouldn’t be the one in danger.

And unfortunately, he was right. When he set those headphones over his ears, he immediately recognized Lydia’s voice. She was moaning in pain.

“We gotta go in,” Hotch said, but Rossi stopped him from throwing off his headphones.

“We’d be risking the lives of everyone in there.”

“Get up!” Cyrus’s words were followed by a crashing noise, like glass shattering.

Please be okay. Please don’t let it be as bad as it sounds.

“Proverbs 20:30 tells us blows and wounds cleanse away evil.”

There was more struggling over the line and Spencer threw off his headphones, unable to bear it any more. She was in pain. He knew this would happen.

“How could you let this happen?” he demanded of Hotch. “We have to go in! She’s not-”

“Sh! Sh!” Rossi hissed, one hand over his earpiece, the other between the unit chief and the boy.

Both looked at him confused, but he just kept listening silently.

“Everyone will see the bruises on your knuckles,” he finally recited. “Does that mean anything to you?”

Spencer didn’t answer, but put his headphones back on swiftly.

“-protecting them!”

“From me?” Lydia’s laugh sounded more like a wail over the mic. “I’m fine! I got bruises on my knuckles too! I can take it!”

“She’s antagonizing him!” Morgan exclaimed, frustratedly.

“She’s not talking to him,” Rossi argued.

“Pride comes before the fall.”

There was one more grunt, then the line went quiet. When Spencer finally breathed in again, all eyes were on him.

“She gets bruises on her knuckles when she lets off steam on a case,” he explained quietly. “I always worry for her, but she says she’d rather hurt her hands for a little bit then do something rash or detrimental on a case.”

“So what she’s saying is-”

“Don’t come in,” he finished begrudgingly. “She’s telling us not to go in.”

~ ~ ~

Cole had to basically carry her to one of the upstairs bedrooms. Every breath was agony for her lungs and a violent sting for her nose and mouth. And she figured it was psychosomatic, but her bullet wound hurt as if she’d just been shot yet again.

Who would have thought this whole hostage thing could get ten times worse?

Cole tied her arms to the sides of the bed, though frankly, she didn’t think she’d have the abdominal strength to sit back up anyway. And she didn’t want to try.

Kathy Evanson came by with a washcloth to clean the blood away from her nose, mouth, and temple. She tried to warn Lydia against lying to Cyrus, to which Lydia snapped back, “Do you speak from personal experience?”

Kathy didn’t say another word before standing up and leaving. It was a clear sign that she was hiding something and Lydia could only hope Emily caught onto that too. ‘Cause Lydia… she wasn’t going anywhere fast.

Downstairs, Cyrus had pulled Emily into his office, using some of his only medical supplies to disinfect the tiny abrasions in his hand from his fight with Lydia.

“Did you know she was FBI?” he demanded, as Cole shut the door behind the three of them.

Emily quickly shook her head, but her heart was in her stomach with fear for Lydia. Lydia was strong. She could take a lot. But she was also far too defiant to make this easy on herself. Emily silently wished she’d been smart.

“Nancy told me the woman was a child abuse interview expert from Denver.” Emily hated to put the blame on someone else, but Cyrus couldn’t hurt Nancy anymore. Nancy was gone. Lydia was still here and if Emily made her sound worse, it could fuel Cyrus’s anger towards her. “In the 4 years I worked with her, Nancy had never lied to me before.”

“As far as you know,” Cyrus replied. “Their law says that a 15-year-old girl is a child. Fifty years ago, that same law said a 14-year-old was an adult. Have children changed so much in 50 years?”

No, but people have, Emily thought. It was frustrating. Hotch had chosen Lydia because she was so good at acting calm. At least… in the workplace. She could have any unsub they met trust her entirely, or keep them constantly on their toes. Now, Emily could act, but she couldn’t do that.

If anyone’s cover should have been blown, it should have been hers. Emily knew more about CIRG protocols. She could diffuse a situation. Acting like she wasn’t totally disgusted by Cyrus’s morals was not in her skill set.

“I think it’s a matter of trust. People have stopped believing that kids can make good decisions, they’ve stopped believing in selfless acts, and they stopped putting their trust and faith into God.”

Her appeal seemed to work. Cyrus looked intrigued. She hoped it would hold long enough to make a good argument in her favor. Now was the perfect time to build up Cyrus’s trust with the FBI, because he had brought in the medical supplies Rossi had given them. There was absolutely no way that the BAU wasn’t listening.

“On your next call, you should test them. Test the negotiator. Make him prove that he isn’t a liar.”

“How would you suggest I do that?”

“Ask for the identity of the FBI agent.”

Cole looked unamused. “No. We already know her identity.”

Emily opened her mouth to respond, but Cyrus beat her to it. “They don’t know that.”

“Yeah. But the FBI would never tell us.”

“They keep asking you to release people,” Emily argued. “Tell them you’ll release a kid and you won’t harm the agent. If they really care about the children, they’ll have to tell you.”

“You’re trying to get us to release a child!” Cole accused.

“It’s one kid! If they don’t hold up on their end of the deal, then you know they can’t be trusted!”

“She has a point,” Cyrus conceded much to Emily’s relief. “What is it, Christopher?”

Emily glanced over her shoulder to find Cole pacing the room.

“Some people have been talking about… leaving.”

“Leaving?”

“Yeah.”

Cyrus glanced at his hands. “Wake the baby. Let’s let them meet the orphan that they’ve made.”

~ ~ ~

Cole held onto Lydia’s shoulder’s firmly as he led her back to the chapel. She’d been dozing for most of the day, unable to move from her bed, so her ability to process the situation was hazy.

Cyrus had everyone gathered in the pews. “It has come to my attention that some of our brothers and sisters have lost their faith in God. That they no longer love us. They want to abandon us. So, when I call out your name, please stand.”

Cole left her leaning up against one of the back walls as he went to usher the last of the people in and that’s when Lydia noticed Emily eyeing her, slowly creeping closer and closer while still looking as if she was listening to Cyrus.

“He looks pissed,” Lydia whispered to her when she was close enough. “He’s choosing the people who failed the loyalty test.”

“I’m so sorry,” was all Emily could say.

“Em, I’m okay,” she snapped, more forcefully than she meant. She knew she wasn’t okay. “You need to stay focused and tell me what to do. What does this mean?”

Emily cleared her throat quietly. “He’s releasing these people, because he knows it’s over. He’s getting rid of any possible threat to his mass suicide plan. I’ll try and figure out when it is and get word to the team. Be ready. There’s going to be a raid tonight.”

~ ~ ~

“Drugging the food’s not an option because of the children,” Hotch was saying as they passed around tubs of fried chicken. “We have to go in.”

“Best time to hit ‘em is when they’re least mentally prepared,” Rossi added.

“3 AM.” All eyes turned on Reid. “Biorhythms are at their low point then.”

“Reid, I told you to stay with JJ,” Hotch argued, already on his way to lead Spencer out of the room, but he stood firm.

“Please let me help. I can’t just sit here and pray that she’s going to walk back out of there. I need to do something.”

There was a moment of silent tension between the two of them. Hotch didn’t want him to go. Technically, he shouldn’t let him go. But he didn’t have the time to argue, and Spencer would no doubt be helpful when it came to setting up this plan.

“The plan depends on Ambers and Prentiss separating the diehards from the followers,” Hotch continued, turning back to the group.

“And delaying Cyrus’s diehards from reacting to our assault,” Morgan said.

“No, that’s not my main concern. Ambers and Prentiss know what they need to do. I don’t know how to tell them when we’re coming. This whole thing hinges on them being ready for us at 3 AM.”

“Reid? What the hell are you doing?”

Hotch and Rossi followed Morgan’s gaze to the young genius who was covering the top of one of the food trays with red sharpie.

When he stepped back, the tray read, ‘New owners! New hours! Open ‘til 3 AM!’ The time was underlined multiple times.

“They’ll recognize my writing,” he promised. “Just write this on a few different plates so that there’s a better chance they’re near someone with a sign.”

“Let’s just hope it’s that easy,” Morgan grumbled.

~ ~ ~

Lydia watched curiously as Emily slipped into her room and carefully shut the door. She wasn’t sure how Emily had gotten away from Cyrus’s men, but she was positive something big was happening, else she wouldn’t have taken such a risk.

“3 AM,” she said, reaching the bed and helping Lydia sit up. “We need to get all the women and children down to the basement before 3.”

Lydia had no clue what time it was, only that the sky was completely dark and their time frame was getting shorter. “Find Kathy,” she told Emily. “I’m pretty sure she made that 911 call.”

“Pretty sure?”

“She’s hiding something,” Lydia admitted. “But no, I’m not positive that that’s it.”

The unease was more than a little scary, but there wasn’t much else for them to do. These people wouldn’t trust her or Emily. The only way to save them was to find someone they trusted.

“Stay here. I’ll be back for you before 3.”

“Don’t get caught.”

~ ~ ~

“They’re setting the place to blow up,” Kathy said as she ran into Lydia’s room.

Lydia’s heart fell. “Where’s Emily?” she demanded.

“I told Jessie that Cyrus wanted the two of them to gather the women and children. She’s leading them to the basement now,” she explained, untying the ropes on Lydia’s wrists.

Oh, thank god. Lydia thought for sure when Emily didn’t come back that she’d been caught.

“It’s 2:45. We’ve got to hurry.”

Kathy pulled Lydia along by her arm, Lydia’s other hand wrapped around her waist. Her entire torso burned as she ran down the stairs towards the basement. Almost out. This was almost over.

The sound of gunfire was muted through the walls and Lydia didn’t have time to place where it was coming from.

Get out. Get out.

As they were reaching the door, Lydia could see Emily leading the group into the basement.

“Let’s go! This way!”

“Let’s go, kids!”

“This building’s going to blow up!”

There was shouting in all directions. Lydia’s legs barely held her steady as she ran alongside Kathy. The only thing that was keeping her from passing out was Spencer. He was just outside. She needed to see him.

“Lydia!” She looked up as she passed through the door frame and found herself face to face with Morgan. She didn’t have time to open her mouth before he had pulled her into his shoulder. “I’m going to kill Cyrus.”

“You don’t have long,” she said, almost jokingly, but the timing was badly placed. Not a moment later, the ground and walls began to shake and a deafening sound filled the basement.

Everyone still inside hit the floor, protecting their heads from possible falling debris, but the ceiling was solid. Lydia had been through earthquakes before, and she’d survived an explosion, but this was somehow worse than both. She felt so claustrophobic she didn’t even try to breathe, out of fear she’d find herself unable too. For many seconds, she stayed on the floor, unable to tell if the rumbling had stopped.

“We’ve got to get out of here.” She didn’t realize it was Emily who was talking until Morgan and Rossi were helping her off the ground. “That was the explosives. If Cyrus planned a second round, the basement might crumble too.”

The four of them made a run for the secret door in the school, Lydia now holding onto Rossi for support, so that Derek could lead the group and make sure the rest of the kids got out.

“How’s Spencer?” she asked as they climbed back into the school building.

“I imagine Hotch has got at least seven guys holding him down right now to keep him from running into the rubble to find you. How are you?”

Lydia didn’t want to answer that. Not only was she in a lot of physical pain, but after that explosion went off above her, her heart rate had been soaring.

Everyone’s eyes were on the smoking ruble that was the chapel, amazed by the destruction. Many kids were crying and women were no doubt waiting to see if their husbands had survived. Rossi kept pulling Lydia along, not letting her stop to watch. They walked through the barricade of armed men with ease.

“Lydia! Lydia!”

It was Spencer. He was looking for her. Lydia tried to yell back, but Rossi could tell she didn’t have it in her.

“I’ve got her, Reid!”

Not too long after, she saw her boyfriend pushing through the crowd, his eyes looking around frantically.

When their eyes met, it was like Lydia’s whole world muted to a dull roar. Three days. Three days she’d been trapped in that building, trying to reach the team and getting the shit kicked out of her. Three days she’d been quiet, accepting Cyrus’s blows. All to see him again.

She wanted to run to him, but she just didn’t have it in her. Luckily, he was eager enough for the both of them.

His arms were so tight around her that she felt like all her ribs would break at once and her nose was so deep in the side of his neck that the bruises burned. She couldn’t care less.

He pulled away all too fast and she was about to protest, when she realized why. As she looked up at him, a breeze hit her cheeks, making the wet trails going down her face apparent. She took in shuddering breaths.

She was crying.

“I’m sorry,” was all she could think to say, the back of her hand reaching to wipe them away, but for some reason, it didn’t feel like they were gone. “Sorry, I can’t-”

Before she could finish, he leaned down and kissed her. He kissed her in front of the whole team. In front of everyone. He’d never done that before. PDA was a very rare thing for him. But all her shock died on her lips, suffocating between his own.

“I love you,” he whispered, barely moving an inch away. “I love you so very much. You don’t need to apologize for your tears.”

Such kind and affirming words should have quelled her tears, but she just sobbed harder. “I love you too. Please don’t ever leave me.”

Tags: @kris-stuff, @wooya1224, @bispences, @anotherr-fine-mess, @eddysocs

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slippinmickeys · 5 years

Text

A Companion Unobtrusive

You can find Chapter One here.

On move-in day, Mulder showed up at her (their) door at 9:00am sharp, wearing a ratty Oxford University sweatshirt and an anxious expression.

“Hey,” he said, when she opened the door, “I got a buddy downstairs with a truck. Where should he park it?”

“Follow me,” Scully said, and grabbed her keys off the hook by the door. She led him down the stairs and around to the back of the building.

“We’ve got two parking spots,” she said, “though I don’t have a car. You can have him pull in here. The one next to it is yours. You ride a motorcycle, right?”

He nodded and then jogged to the corner and called out to the friend he had waiting, who pulled into the alley and then leaned out of the open window.

“Frohike, Scully, Dana Scully, my buddy Melvin Frohike,” Mulder introduced them.

“Last name basis with everyone, huh?” Scully said to Mulder in a low voice. He smiled.

“She’s hot,” was all Frohike said, and Mulder flipped him off and then directed him into the narrow space.

Scully looked down at her jean cut-offs and baggy, laundry-day tee shirt. She wasn’t exactly dressed for Prime Time.

Frohike cut the engine, jumped out and they all gathered around the back of the truck. There were about a dozen medium sized boxes and no furniture.

“Is this it?” Scully asked.

“I am but a humble nomad,” Mulder said, “taking only what I can carry.”

“What he means is that he sold almost all his shit when he left England,” Frohike said, “I hope you have pots and pans.”

Scully laughed.

“I do, and you’re welcome to use them,” she said, “Five bucks a pop for utensils, though.”

“I like her,” said Frohike, hooking a thumb at Scully as he pulled down the tailgate.

They had everything up and into Mulder’s bedroom in less than ten minutes.

“I’m off,” said Frohike, the second he set the last box down on Mulder’s floor. “It was nice meeting you, Scully.”

“Likewise,” said Scully, who was leaning against the frame of Mulder’s door.

On his way out, Frohike paused by Scully and leaned into her confidentially.

“If he tries to seduce you, let him down easy. The man’s got no game,” he said.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Scully said and then cut a look to Mulder who looked more than a little glad to see the back of Frohike.

“Where’d you pick him up?” Scully said, once the front door had closed behind him.

“I collect strays,” Mulder said simply, peeling the tape off of one of the boxes.

Scully took a step back into the hallway.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said. Then, “Oh! Here’s your key,” she stepped back into his room, and handed over the single key. “It works on the building doors and the apartment deadbolt. Sometimes you have to wiggle it a bit on the lock by the garage.”

Mulder nodded his thanks and she backed out.

“Let me know if you need help or anything,” she called out over her shoulder.

XxXxXxXxXxX

A few hours later, she knocked on his door.

“I come bearing gifts,” she said, holding up a pizza box and a six pack of Shiner Bock.

“Marry me,” he said, and she smiled, looking around the room. He’d hung clothes in the closet, and had all his other meager possessions in various small stacks around the room. He’d broken down the boxes and had them sitting neatly by the door. He looked exhausted.

“There’s Spartan furnishings, and then there’s this,” she said, and he shrugged, chagrined.

“I’ll need to do some shopping in the immediate future, I’ll grant you,” he said.

“The good news is, I have a real table with real chairs not eight yards from your bedroom door.” She held up the pizza and six pack once again, “Come on,” she said, “your piles aren’t going anywhere.”

He followed her to the kitchen and she gave him a quick rundown of what cabinets held what, pulling down plates and glasses. She pulled out two beers and slid the rest of the six pack back in the fridge.

She opened them both and handed him one. He clinked the bottles together.

“Happy housewarming,” she said.

“Slainte,” he said, and they both took a slug.

A semi-comfortable silence descended on them, and Scully filled it by sliding a couple slices of pizza on her plate. Mulder sat back and pushed the sleeves of his sweatshirt up his forearms. They looked tanned even in the washed out light of the kitchen and were roped with muscle and sprinkled with dark hair.

“Ever wonder why they call it a housewarming?” Mulder asked.

“I never really thought about it,” she said, and then leaned forward. “But now I want to know.”

She looked at him and he smiled back.

“Fire is a classic symbol of strength and purity, which is why many European traditions involve lighting a candle or a fire on your first night in a new home. Doing so is said to ward off evil spirits by casting away darkness. It’s fallen out of practice with modern conveniences like electricity, but the name stuck.”

“Well,” said Scully, “aren’t you a wellspring of random and arcane facts.”

Mulder held up his beer.

“You have no idea,” he said, and she laughed.

She peeled off a piece of pepperoni from one of her slices of pizza, and popped it into her mouth.

“Be right back,” she said, and came back a moment later with a large white pillar candle and a box of matches. She struck a match and lit the candle, then held out her beer. He clinked the neck of his to the neck of hers.

“To warding off evil spirits,” she said.

“And casting out darkness,” he replied.

They smiled at each other, the silence turning easy.

XxXxXxXxXxX

A few days had passed. Enough for them each to get to know the other’s routines and for the excessive politeness of two strangers sharing a space to fade a bit.

Scully was sitting on the couch going over classwork when Mulder emerged from his room in running shorts and a ratty tee shirt with the sleeves cut off. The skin on his upper arms was paler than that of his lower arms, but had a delineated curve where deltoid met bicep. It took a minute to look away.

“Going for a run?” she asked a little too brightly.

“I was hoping to,” he said, sitting down in front of the front door to put on his running shoes. “Are there any good places around here?”

She set down the paper she was holding, thinking.

“There’s a park a few blocks away, over by the… you know what, it’ll be easier if I show you. Mind some company?”

“I’d love some,” he said, smiling.

“Be right back,” she said, and ran upstairs to change.

When she got back to the living room, he was stretching, one leg held up in a quad stretch, standing with the graceful ease of perfect balance.

“Ready?” she asked, pulling an old baseball cap over her messy ponytail.

He lowered his leg to the floor and swept his eyes over her once.

“As I’ll ever be,” he said.

They walked the first few blocks, with Scully taking the opportunity to point out various neighborhood hot spots -- the local gas station, the corner market.

When they got to the park nearby, she ducked under a low hanging tree to find the running path that ran near the outskirts.

“This way,” she said, and they started to jog.

After a few minutes, she threw him a look.

“I’m slowing you down,” she said, guiltily.

He was taking short strides next to her, keeping pace with her.

“Nonsense,” he said, staring straight ahead.

“Muder, your legs are about a foot longer than mine, you could run circles around me,” she said.

“Sounds like a good idea,” he said with a glimmer in his eye, and then pulled the hat off her head and started running in literal circles around her, hooting at her while she grabbed at the hat -- every time she got close, he’d pull it away, holding it behind his back or far above his head where she could never reach it. After a minute of keep away, they were both laughing and she pulled up, out of breath but with a smile on her face.

“I knew I was slowing you down,” she laughed, and bent to put her hands on her knees.

“Aw,” he said, putting the cap back on her head and pulling it low, “you’d have caught up eventually.”

He gave one last tug on the brim of the cap and they stood looking at each other, a moment passing between them. Scully felt something low in her belly, and there was a sharp look in Mulder’s eye.

“Why don’t you go ahead and get your miles in,” Scully said, taking a step back and breaking the moment. “You know how to get back?”

Mulder nodded at her.

“Sure you don’t want to come along?” he asked.

“Pass,” she said, “I’ll see you at home.”

He took a few steps backward, holding her eye and then turned and loped off back down the path, eating up the distance in long, even strides.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The days turned into a week and then two. Their schedules were pretty compatible, and they usually woke up and ate breakfast at about the same time, and then Scully would leave to head onto campus.

She came back on a Thursday afternoon, holding a folder full of medical school applications, her gut churning in nervous anticipation. Her MCAT scores were good. Hopefully good enough to secure at least one full ride scholarship. She closed the door to the apartment with her head in the clouds, and it took her a moment to notice Mulder, who was standing in the middle of the living room, holding the telephone. He was just lowering it from his ear and he had a queer look on his face.

“Mulder?” Scully said, “Everything okay?”

“I just accepted a job,” he said, looking a little surprised.

“What? That’s fantastic!” Scully said, swinging her backpack down to the floor and plopping the folder of applications on top of it.

“Yeah,” he said, and then moved to the wall to hang up the phone.

“You seem surprised,” Scully said, walking toward him.

“I am,” he said, turning toward her from the wall. “It’s the one I was hoping for. I did not expect to get it.”

“What’s the position?” Scully asked, moving to stand in front of him.

“I’ll be starting at one of the best Psychology practices in the Metro area. Low on the totem pole, but they’ve offered to train me until I get licensed.”

The surprise on his face melted slowly into happiness as the news started to sink in.

On a whim, Scully wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He returned it, warmly.

“Congratulations,” she said into his shirt, then looked up into his face. “This calls for a celebration.”

“Yeah?” he said, looking down at her with a smile. She felt color spreading up her cheeks. After a second they let their hands fall away from each other. “What’d you have in mind?” he asked, taking a step back.

“Drinks,” she said, taking a step back, herself. “There’s a great dive bar right down the street.”

“When can we leave?” he asked.

XxXxXxXxXxX

They were at least four drinks in, not counting the two tequila shots she’d insisted on when they first arrived. They’d both agreed their third drink should be water, and Scully had lost count after that. She had ordered a glass of the house Chardonnay (“It’s terrible, but also four dollars,”), and Mulder appeared to be pacing himself through a large gin and tonic, while Scully told a story.

“And then we said ‘follow that car!’” Scully said.

“You didn’t,” Mulder said.

“We did,” said Scully on a laugh, “but to our surprise the cabbie didn’t share in our excitement and instead slammed on the breaks half a block down the street and told us to get out.”

Mulder threw his head back and laughed.

They had started at the bar, but moved to a dark booth in the back when the place started filling up with the after-work crowd. Rush was playing too loud on the jukebox nearby. The drinks were cheap, the tables were sticky and the lighting was bad.

“I love this place,” Mulder said, looking around.

“Me too,” said Scully, watching the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed his drink. “It’s the perfect dive bar.”

Mulder leaned back in the booth and leveled a look at her.

“Tell me about Dana Scully,” he said.

“There’s not much to tell,” she said, humbly.

“Nonsense,” he said, “a smart, beautiful woman like you? I bet you’ve got a lot going on.”

She ducked her head at the compliment. She’d noticed that he peered rather than looked. There was a ribald quality to his gaze, though she found herself more intrigued than intimidated. Mulder looked at her as if she were a question to be answered and she found herself hoping to be worthy of his inquiry.

“Boyfriend?” he prodded, taking a big drink. She rolled her eyes just thinking about Ethan. “Ha!” he went on, “there’s a story there. Tell it.”

He crunched ice from his glass, the dull sound brushing across her skin like a memory. He held the dewy tumbler in long, elegant fingers and for a moment she felt like a real, live grown-up.

She told him about Ethan. She probably shared more than she should have. How they’d started dating in high school when her father retired from the Navy and they moved to Maryland. She told him about her dreams of becoming a doctor and how she’d broken up with Ethan over it. When she finished, he held up his glass.

“Fuck that guy,” Mulder said, and clinked her glass with his.

“I did,” Scully said, and Mulder choked on his drink, laughing. While he recovered, Scully handed him a napkin and leaned back. “I tell you,” she went on, “I’m thrilled to be single right now.”

Mulder cut his eyes to her.

“Tell me about Fox Mulder,” she said, diverting the conversation, “smart, handsome guy like you? I bet you’ve got a lot going on.”

He smirked at her as he brushed the front of his shirt with the napkin.

“You said no girlfriend, right?” she asked, feeling brave.

“I’m thrilled to be single right now,” he said, giving her a look she couldn’t read. The silence stretched for a moment.

“Missy said you moved back for your sister?”

“That, and it was time to come back,” he said, sighing. He started shredding bits of the napkin onto the tabletop. “Sam is doing well in school, but that’s about it. She’s at the age where you leave home and strike out on your own but always have that parental support, that thing to fall back on, that place to go home to. Mom and Dad died just after she left for college, and… I think she feels like she was just expelled into the world before she was ready. She’s sad and angry, and I don’t quite know what to do for her. PhD in Psychology and here I am flapping in the breeze, not even able to help my own sister.”

Scully reached across the table and squeezed his arm.

He smiled self-consciously and stood. He looked brooding and slapdash in the half-light of the bar, stippled with 5 o’clock shadow and flecked with chips of light from a distant, dusty disco ball. She found herself wanting to run her hands through his sable hair and brush her lips over his cheek. She threw back the rest of her wine instead.

“We need another round,” he said.

“We really don’t,” Scully said, reaching up and feeling the end of her nose. When she had too much to drink, it went numb. She couldn’t feel it.

“Are we out celebrating me or not?” he said.

“We are.”

“Then I say we need another round,” and with that he walked to the bar, though when he came back, he was carrying two waters.

“Bartender insisted,” he said.

“He’s a good guy,” Scully said, waving in the direction of the bar. A nod from the bartender.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, drinking water and watching the bar fill up. Then Spirit of the Radio came on the jukebox and Mulder leaned back his head as if in ecstasy.

“I love this song,” he said.

“I had you pegged as an INXS guy,” Scully said.

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” he replied. He looked at her steadily. “Let’s dance.”

Scully looked skeptically towards what passed for a dance floor.

“Mulder, no one has danced here in at least a decade,” she said, thinking of a fifty-something barfly swaying by herself to Jolene .

“All the more reason,” he said, sliding out of the booth and holding out his hand. There was a rakish glint in his eye and his renegade jaw clenched once.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” she said, though she put her hand in his and let him pull her up.

“Yes, you are,” he laughed and led her to the middle of the floor.

She was definitely drunk enough because it took nothing at all for her to start dancing. The bartender, who knew her from more than a few nights out with Ellen, smiled at her and bent down under the bar. A second or two later the volume of the music went up and he stood, giving her a thumbs up. She laughed and let herself go.

When the guitar solo started in the middle of the song, Mulder leaned back and started playing an air guitar, throwing his head into it with enthusiasm.

“You’re such a dork!” Scully yelled to him over the music.

“You love it!” he yelled back.

She had to admit, she kind of did. She liked that he seemed to live his life not caring what other people thought of him. It was a lesson she should probably learn herself.

When the song ended and Tom Sawyer came on, she took a step back, and looked up at him. She was sweaty and suddenly self-conscious, feeling like a goldfish in a bowl.

“We should go home,” she said, feeling a lot drunker than she thought she’d been, “get some food.”

He stood up straight, as if gauging how he felt and swayed just a bit.

“You’re right,” he said, “we should.”

They strolled to the bar to settle their tab, and he wouldn’t hear of letting her pay.

They walked out of the bar and were surprised to find that night had fallen. The sudden silence settled over them like a heavy blanket. The air was so fresh it almost hurt to breathe it.

“You should have let me pay,” Scully said, speaking too loudly, her ears ringing with a brief tinnitus from the music. She lowered her voice, “we’re celebrating your accomplishment.”

“Well, my accomplishment is going to pay a lot better than your post-grad stipend, I guarantee you.”

“Still…” she said, and then tripped over the curb.

Mulder reached out and grabbed her arm, saving her from a face plant.

“All hands on deck!” he said, and she smiled and looked up at him gratefully. He slid his hand down her arm and took her hand. “Two blocks to go,” he said, “we got this.”

His hand was warm in hers, dry. She squeezed it. Inhibitions lowered, she could feel herself falling for him a little, against her will.

When they got to their building, there was a young woman sitting on the steps out front with her arms crossed, looking like she was on the verge of tears. When the woman heard them, she turned to look and her face registered surprise and, when her gaze dropped to their linked hands, unhappy confusion.

Scully suddenly wondered if Mulder actually did have a girlfriend and she felt her stomach reel.

“Sam!” Mulder said, dropping her hand. He lurched forward and grabbed the woman in a bear hug.

“Get off, Fox,” she said, pushing him back, “you smell like a frat party.”

Mulder’s face fell.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“What’s wrong ?” the woman’s voice went up an entire octave, “you told me to come here at 7:30. I’ve been sitting out here for an hour and a half!”

“Shit,” Mulder swore. “I’m so sorry.” His apology did nothing to improve her demeanor.

Mulder then seemed to remember Scully’s presence.

“Oh,” he said, “Sam, this is my new roommate Dana Scully. Scully, this is Samantha, my sister.”

“Scully?” Samantha said, and made no move to shake hands. “You’re still doing that last name thing?” Her eye roll was implied.

“Let’s go inside,” Scully said, for something to do, and pulled out her keys to unlock the building’s door. When she got the key close to the lock, she dropped the whole ring. She could hear Samantha sighing in annoyance behind her.

“So, you went out partying instead of meeting me,” Samantha said, her voice flat. “Awesome.”

Scully recovered, got the door open and they all trooped up the stairs to the apartment in silence.

Once inside, Scully knelt to pick up the backpack and envelope of applications she’d dropped by the door earlier and made her way to the stairs.

“I’ll let you two catch up,” she said, excusing herself.

Mulder threw her an apologetic look. She flopped on the bed when she got to her room, applications forgotten until tomorrow.

#the x-files #fanfiction #fanfic #MSR #AU #prompt #a companion unobtrusive #chapter two

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youngjusticeslut · 4 years

Text

Center Stage (Chapter 4)

Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power Characters: Adora, Catra, Glimmer, Bow, Mermista, Sea Hawk, Kyle, Perfuma, Frosta, Angella, Micah, Shadow Weaver Ships: Catradora, Glimbow, Seamista, Kygelio, Scorptra Rating: T+ Summary: A Catradora Ballet School AU AO3

Adora wakes up long before her alarm goes off.

First day of classes. Big day. Her phone tells her it’s a little past six in the morning, and a quick glance to the side of the room tells her that Glimmer is gone, bed unkempt. Carefully, she crawls out of bed, hoping not to wake Catra. Though judging by the girl’s soft snores, there’s not much to worry about.

Six am means she has two hours to kill before her first class. Two hours is plenty of time. Enough for a quick workout, a thorough stretch session, and maybe even a bit of breakfast. If her stomach calms down enough to eat, that is.

From her bedside table, she grabs her earphones and plugs them into her phone. Quiet as can be, she starts with a series of pushups, followed by crunches, bicycle kicks, and leg lifts. Three sets, rinse and repeat. It helps Adora work her nerves out, and lucky for her, Catra sleeps through the entire thing, unaware of it all. She takes extra time to stretch out her muscles, especially her feet. They’d be put through the ringer today, the least she can do is prepare them for what’s to come.

By the time she showers and grabs a couple of muffins from the cafeteria, Catra’s just waking up. She smiles, seeing her awake when she enters the room. Glimmer is still nowhere to be found, it seems. “Hey there,” Adora greets softly, trying not to startle her roommate. “Late start?”

“Not an early riser,” the brunette responds. “What time is it?”

“Seven thirty. Still got about thirty minutes until class.”

“Shit.” As if on cue, Catra’s stomach growls. She glances away in mild embarrassment.

“It’s okay,” Adora says, tossing her a muffin. Catra catches it without missing a bit. “I came prepared.”

Adora tries not to relish the look of surprise on Catra’s face. Score a point to her, for being the best roommate ever. As Catra nibbles on the muffin, Adora rifles through her drawers, pulling out her black leotards and pink tights. Boring, but apparently the required uniform at Bright Moon.

She keeps her back to Catra as she’s changing, humming to herself as a distraction. At the moment, she doesn’t even remember the name of the song she’s humming. It’s a Spanish one, something Mara would sing most mornings as she made breakfast. The routine quells the little bit of homesickness that she’s feeling.

Once she’s dressed, she walks over to the mirror and starts to pin up her hair. By now, Catra’s finished the muffin and has also begun to get dressed. “Want to walk to class together?” she asks, hoping to continue extending the olive branch. She’s not great at making friends, but she promised Mara and Razz that she’d make a better effort at it.

“Uh, sure. I have to brush my teeth, though.”

“That’s okay, I’ll—wait, is that what you’re wearing?”

Catra glances up from adjusting the straps on her leotard. “Yeah?” She pauses, cocks her head to the side and gives a little smirk. “Doesn’t suit your taste?” Unlike Adora, she wears red, with nude colored tights. It looks far better than it should, and Adora can’t help the blush that tints her cheeks.

The question leaves Adora flustered, more than it probably should. It’s too early for this. “What? No. No, it’s fine. Cool actually, super— I mean…” She stops rambling and collects herself with a deep breath. “What you’re wearing is nice, but Bright Moon has a uniform.”

“Uniform?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you read the orientation packet?”

Catra’s face says that she very much hadn’t, but the girl shrugs it off and takes off the hair tie from around her wrist. “Whatever. It’ll make me stand out.”

“I don’t think it works like that. What if you get in trouble?”

The brunette pauses from tying up her hair, shooting a quick look at Adora. “Worried about me?”

Adora scoffs and crosses her arms. “I’m trying to save you from getting your ass kicked out on the first day.”

“They won’t throw me out. Trust me, once they see me dance, they’ll forget all about what I’m wearing.” Her words are strong, but something in Catra’s eyes doesn’t exactly convince Adora. It comes off more like a front, a facade to protect her. Part of her wants to call Catra out on it, but something stops her. Truthfully, it’s none of her business. Who is Adora to stop Catra from doing what she wants?

“Hey, it’s your funeral,” Adora ends up saying.

Catra finishes to tie up her hair, leaving it in a sloppy bun with bangs framing her face. It’s a stark contrast to Adora’s sleek, neat do. “I appreciate the concern,” she says with a wink.

While Catra scoots past her into their shared bathroom to brush her teeth, Adora checks the time on her phone. Class starts in fifteen minutes. She pulls at her fingers for something to do, resisting the urge to chew on her lip. They’re cutting it awfully close. What if all the good spots are taken by the time they get there? She really wants to show up early, scope out the other girls, make a good impression on the teachers.

“Almost ready?” It comes with a bit of a whine, and Adora mentally kicks herself. Now Catra probably thinks she’s such a goody-goody. It doesn’t matter, though. There’s no answer. “Catra?”

“Nearly done. If it’s getting close, go on ahead.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll catch up.”

Permission granted, Adora grabs her already-packed ballet bag and slings it over her shoulder. She barely remembers to grab her room keys on her way out the door. Part of her feels guilty for leaving Catra behind, but she really doesn’t want to be late. Especially not on the first day.

Thanks to her strategic mapping technique from the day before, Adora is able to make it to class in less than five minutes. The dorms aren’t too far from this particular studio, and for that Adora is eternally grateful. As expected, several girls are already there in various points of preparing their pointe shoes. Glimmer stands off to the side, testing out a shiny pair of shoes. In comparison, Adora’s faded ones look abysmal. She really needs a new pair.

Adora takes her place in the center of the room, close to the barre. When class begins, she’ll be front and center; perfect for watching the teacher, and right up front to get her noticed. Easy. Almost too easy. Her pointe shoes are already broken-in, so she takes the time to prep her feet properly before slipping them on. No distractions today. She has to be at the top of her game.

Her nerves aren’t nearly as bad as they were on the day of her audition. Maybe it’s because she’s already in and the hard part is over. Or maybe it has something to do with being inside the gorgeous dance studio again. Last time she was in here, it felt like a dream. Today, it’s her reality.

“Adora!” Perfuma waves at her, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s your first day, how are you feeling? Did you eat breakfast?”

Any other morning, this amount of energy so early in the morning would have turned Adora off. She doesn’t mind it so much today. “Yeah, I got something to eat. And I’m fine. Excited for it to start, really.”

Perfuma places a hand on Adora’s shoulder and gives it a soft squeeze. “Glad to hear it. No stress?”

“Not really.”

“That’s great! I’m sure you’re going to be amazing.” For some reason, Perfuma’s encouragement actually helps Adora feel better. She knows that she’s only met the girl a day ago, but there’s something really calming about her general demeanor.

Adora’s about to respond when the doors to the dance studio open. A flock of boys enter the room, and the excitement increases tenfold. Returning students hug and squeal and group together. Off to the side, Adora finally locates Glimmer. She throws her arm around a boy, who cheers and spins her around in delight. Following right after the boys are a group of adults. Teachers, she assumes, judging by their higher air and the way they watch the students interact. Adora recognizes Angella, Spinerella and Netossa from the audition. Angella holds herself at the front of the room, standing beside a dark-haired man.

“Good morning,” she announces, bright and chipper. The energy in the room immediately simmers down, and many echo the words back to her. “We are so pleased to welcome everyone to the first day of what I am sure will be a wonderful year.”

As she welcomes the new students, Adora scans the crowd for Catra. She doesn’t find her. Biting her lip, she attempts to focus back on Angella. Why is her roommate like this?

“You are our senior class, which means that this will be your last year attending Bright Moon Academy,” the man beside Angella continues. “At the end of the year, we will be picking the top dancers to join our company.” He scans the crowd, and offers a kind smile. “While I’m sure that all of you are incredible, this year we will only have room to add six students to the company.”

Six students? Adora clenches her fist in determination. She’s faced worse odds.

“Throughout the year, we will be observing you and your talents as ballet dancers. However, we will not make any final decisions until we see how you dance in the final workshop performance. With that said, we wish you all the best of luck, and advise you to make this your year.”

When Angella finishes speaking, the group claps. The door opens again, and Catra walks in, completely neutral, not a hint of shame on her face. The man beside Angella raises a brow. “So nice of you to fit us into your schedule, Miss…?”

“Catra.” She grins right back at him. “And no sweat.”

The class snickers at her response, but if Catra cares, she doesn’t show it. Adora sucks in her teeth. Late, again? Really. Is Catra actively trying to get herself kicked out, or does she just not care?

“One more thing before we dismiss you for classes. As you may have heard, the company gala is taking place this weekend. We always invite our senior students to attend the performance and help out at the party afterwards, so please plan accordingly. We do expect you all to attend,” Angella says. “Thank you all!”

That said, the teachers trickle out of the room and the boys bid their goodbyes before leaving for their own class. A dark-haired teacher remains at the front, hands clasped tightly. Catra catches Adora’s eye and gives her a wink, but her expression changes completely once she sees the teacher. That’s weird.

“You may call me Madame Weaver,” the woman continues. “In this class, we will be working on technique, sequences and formations three times a week. At the barre,” she instructs, giving no pleasantries. Needless to say, the girls toss their bags to the side and scurry to their positions at the barre. Adora already has her spot, and Catra manages to grab the spot on the opposing end. Their hands are inches away from the other. Adora’s not sure why, but it makes her nervous.

“Let’s start with our pliés. First position, demi, and stretch. Full grand plié and return. Port de bras forward. Full port de bras back. The same in second, third, and fifth positions, and then rise and take a balance in fifth.” She speaks a little too quickly for Adora to fully understand what she’s asking, but since she’s good at following along, she’s not too worried.

Madame Weaver nods to the pianist in the room, who begins the opening transition. To no one’s surprise, the girls move through the pliés seamlessly. Thanks to her rigorous stretch earlier, Adora feels nice and limber.

The teacher walks around the room with something to say about everyone. Mermista needs to relax her fingers. Perfuma needs to work on feeling the support from her center. Glimmer is complimented on her technique. Adora glides through the movements, feeling confident and waiting for Madame Weaver to no doubtedly comment on how wonderful her technique is.

When she gets to her, she pauses. “Your name?” Madame Weaver asks.

“Adora.”

“You need to work on your turnout. Without it, your dancing suffers.”

It’s not the advice Adora expected to hear. She looks down at her feet and adjusts her turnout, feeling less comfortable. “Better,” Madame Weaver says before moving on. As Adora continues her plies, she watches from her peripheral as Madame Weaver approaches Catra.

“You will be on time to my class and wearing appropriate attire. You would do well to remember that your place here is subject to my approval. Do I make myself clear, Catra?”

Adora doesn’t hear a response, but she assumes that Catra agrees, for Madame Weaver moves away and proceeds onto the next student. Something about her interaction with Catra unsettles her. It’s almost like they know each other. With a slight huff, she forces the thought out of her mind. She can’t think about that right now.

The class continues. They spend an hour on barre work alone. From there, they move on to floor work and practicing routines across the room. As much as Adora would like to admit otherwise, she struggles. She comes out of turns too slow and stumbles one time too many for her liking. Madame Weaver works quickly and she isn’t always able to catch everything she says. On the whole, she feels like she has much to improve on.

When class ends, Adora sinks down to the floor and yanks open the laces of her pointe shoes. Her feet throb and she just wants to be out of them. Lunch sounds good, too. The lonely muffin she had for breakfast is long gone, and she needs more than just a salad today.

“Hey.” Adora looks up to see Glimmer, offering her an apologetic smile. “Don’t let it get you down. The first day is always rough.”

It’s hard not to take her words personally, especially not after an entire class where Glimmer was the model student. She swallows any bitterness and smiles back. “I guess you’d know, huh?”

“Trust me, there are days I mess up too. Do you want to go have lunch?”

Adora slips into a pair of slippers and stuffs her pointe shoes in her bag before standing up. “Lunch sounds great. I don’t think I’m in the mood for salad though.”

Glimmer laughs and interlocks arms with her. The action is unexpected, but welcome. They head in the direction of the cafeteria, arm in arm. “Hard same. What are you thinking?”

“I could go for a sandwich. Grilled cheese?”

“Deal.”

In less than ten minutes, the two are in line at the cafeteria waiting to pay for their food. Adora steals a fry off her plate, nibbling at it to quell her hunger. “So, it gets better, right?”

“So much better. Weaver never gets easier though.” Glimmer chews on the inside of her cheek before looking off to the side. “She’s just very… particular.”

Adora remembers the short conversation she overheard between Madame Weaver and Catra. Note to self, stay on Weaver’s good side. Couldn’t be that hard, right? Glimmer seems to have figured it out. “She likes you, though.”

“I wish she didn’t. Believe it or not, I kind of hate being the teacher’s pet.”

“What? No way.” When it’s her turn, Adora sets down her tray and pulls out her student ID to pay for the meal. She’s so lucky that she qualified for Bright Moon’s scholarship program. Mara and Razz were more than willing to chip in, but Adora’s never been comfortable with putting more financial burden on them.

“Way.” Glimmer pulls out her card to pay for her food when she looks up and her eyes widen. “I am so sorry.”

“For what?”

“Glimmer!” Angella meets them at the cash register, a stack of papers in her hand. “You haven’t answered my texts. How was your first class?”

Glimmer flushes in embarrassment and grits her teeth. “Mom, you’re holding up the line.”

“Oh, you’re right. Here, let me pay, Dear,” she says, handing the cashier her credit card before Glimmer can argue. Once they’re all settled, Angella walks with them toward a less crowded spot.

“Adora, this is my mom,” Glimmer introduces reluctantly. “Mom, Adora.”

“Yes, Adora. I remember you, from the audition.” Angella takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. “It’s so nice to meet more of Glimmer’s friends.”

“Mom.”

Angella clears her throat, smiling bashfully and letting go of Adora’s hands. “Right, sorry. How was the first class?”

“It was good. Nothing to worry about. Right, Adora?”

Adora nods, quickly trying to swallow her mouth full of a couple more fries. “Yep! Just fine,” she says, hoping that Madame Weaver hasn’t already soiled her reputation to Angella.

“Good. I’m so glad to hear that. I won’t pry any more, you girls go on and enjoy your lunch, I just wanted to say hello.” Angella takes note of her daughter’s tray and rests a soft hand on Glimmer’s shoulder. “I thought we agreed on salads for lunch. We spoke about this, Glimmer.”

Glimmer turns as red as the ketchup on her plate. It clashes horribly with her hair. “Mom, I know. I promise, salad for dinner,” she mutters, unable to look at Adora.

The answer pleases Angella, for she pecks her forehead and lets go of her. “Good. Keep an eye on your phone, and call me tonight?”

“Yeah, Mom. Say hi to Dad for me.”

“I will. Bye girls.”

Adora watches after her as she leaves before following Glimmer to where she’d hunkered down at a nearby table. Glimmer angrily stabs a fry in some ketchup before tossing it to the side of her plate. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she warns before taking a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

“Fair enough. My family can be a lot too,” Adora says, trying to make Glimmer feel better. “Was your dad the guy standing next to Angella this morning.”

“Yeah. I may have mentioned it yesterday, but they run the school and the company. My dad takes a bigger role in the company, and my mom the school. It works out.”

“Must have been cool to grow up around all these ballet dancers. You must have been able to learn so much from them.”

Glimmer nods, swirling a fry around in some ketchup before popping it in her mouth. “Something like that.”

As Adora digs into her grilled cheese, she notices Catra sitting at a table not too far from them. She talks to a girl with platinum hair and she looks… upset. The tall girl attempts to comfort her but Catra moves away. It seems that Madame Weaver’s words really got to her. “Kind of serves her right,” Glimmer notes after following Adora’s gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“Who does she think she is, showing up late on the first day? And breaking the dress code at that! Catra’s just asking to be kicked out,” Glimmer scoffs, taking a bite of her grilled cheese. She chews, mulls it over, and smirks. “Or maybe she just likes attention.”

Glimmer’s words don’t sit well with her. Adora crosses her arms and takes a shaky breath. “Look, I know you and Catra don’t get along. But you didn’t hear what Weaver said to her. It was… way harsh. Harsher than it should be.”

“That’s just how Weaver is.”

“I don’t think so. I’m not saying what Catra did was right, and I’m not going to sit here and make excuses for her. But I’m also not going to sit here and badmouth her.” Adora looks down at her plate. “That’s not who I am. Okay?”

Glimmer reaches for her hand. “I’m sorry, you’re right. Let’s just talk about something else?”

“Yeah.” Adora looks back in Catra’s direction, but the brunette is no longer there. Maybe she’ll talk to her later, see what’s going on. “So, about the Gala thing this weekend… Can you wear jeans to that?”

#she ra #spop #catra #adora #catradora #center stage #ariel's writing #spop fanfic #glimmer #angella #shadow weaver

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make-me-imagine · 3 years

Note

congrats on 5.5k!! you're insanely talented and I'm so happy you're getting the recognition you deserve 🥺🥺 could i join in the ship requests too?

I'm a rather small sized (like, 154cm & ~40kg kind of small) Asian female from a South East Asia country and i prefer men, especially men who are taller and Age Gaps™ 🥴 I'm not sure how much you know about/believe in astrology but I'm a Libra sun, Taurus rising and Capricorn moon so you can do what you want with that 😂

I'm an INTP/INFP (I've gotten both an equal number of times from sites OTHER than 16 personality, tho I personally vibe with INTP just a teeny smidge more) if you do MBTI ✌🏼 I LOVE to read, especially fanfiction lmao, and i also write! I really love listening to music + watching shows/movies too! My favourite shows are all mystery/crime based LOL and I am working towards becoming a criminal psychologist/forensic pathologist/forensic scientist in future! (heavily inspired by Criminal Minds, Sherlock, Detective Conan and the like so 😂) I have a really vivid and good imagination please i can spend DAYS just daydreaming and imagining scenarios that I never finish writing about & generally this is how all my work is never finished loll

I'm the eldest sibling at home, and my parents haven't always been around so I've been rather used to stepping up and taking care of myself (+ my sibling, like helping them with homework and all). Some people say I'm a natural born leader? idk bc I often step up to be the leader in group work & I'll often be the one to initiate things & all. I'm a rather big procrastinator though LOLL so you'll often catch me rushing my assignments & final projects & rushing my revision for exams + finals like, 2 days before the actual exam 💀 which often leads to me becoming more stressed out & breaking down more often than i actually should so 🥲 I'm trying to quit this bad habit though

I love cuddles and hugs please I will KILL for cuddles and hugs from my back by a tall character pls it just feels so safe and comforting to be spooned too 🥺🥺 sometimes when I'm too absorbed in work or something (which happens too often for it to be healthy) I might just forget to eat/sleep entirely AND also my sleep routine isn't the best. like i will literally fall asleep at 9pm, wake up in the middle of the night on my own at like, 1am, then usually I'll be rushing homework at this time, then maybe sleep again for a short while from 4ish? till when i have to get up for school/work at 5:30/6am 💀 there's been days where i literally looked so sick from the lack of sleep where my tutor once stopped the class to ask me if I was okay and if i was going to faint LMAO 😔 i feel like I'm a night owl??? but then also i have no problem getting up super early in the morning so?? but i really feel most at home and really enjoy the 3am nights 😌

i am also the class clown lol but it's bc i just make sarcastic comments and all and my friends think they're funny???? but also i enjoy making people laugh bc sometimes i find it interesting to try and see what kind of things make my friends laugh so it's lowkey an experiment? or like something i want to achieve? at this point. I'm fluent in English and Chinese/Mandarin and I'm learning Italian so I roughly know some basics, and I really enjoyed History, which I took last year but dropped this year. (I'm taking English Literature with Biology + Chemistry this year and they're all great, except I'm literally dying from the workload aaahhh 💀)

I'm kinda clumsy and Not Good™ at most sports, maybe passably okay for badminton but I'm really not that athletic and really not very keen on exercising either 😔 I'm quite creative and good with public speaking/creative writing/impromptu performance/speech though I'd say! I'm also in my school's drama club 😎 though I'm more of a backstage lights & sounds kind of person. I'm right handed (with a really neat handwriting, as I've been told many, many, many times) and I wear thin frame spectacles which I sometimes will fall asleep in & I'm so clumsy/careless that I'm actually really afraid I'd break them (it's happened before 😭)

I'm a really good planner? like i can do up a great and detailed schedule/plan for revision and all but i will NOT stick to what i plan 😭😭 i love to snack!!!! on chips + gummies especially, and my diet is quite unhealthy lmao i literally don't eat vegetables At All™ & i don't really eat meat that much too?? lmaoo please i can go for days without having a single proper meal & just survive on snacking on potato chips + soft drinks 💀 i am a very picky eater though so really me not finding food i like/am able to stomach is also really kind of my fault 🤡

while i really vibe with and love the dark academia aesthetic, i also do video/MOBA games, like i play games like Mobile Legends & all. I'm someone who knows most, if not all the lastest trends (like tiktok, memes etc) but i won't actively participate in them? i just kind of like to know things, like Knowledge is Power you know (I'm a Slytherin, in case you're wondering, though I've gotten Ravenclaw so often it's a close tie sometimes)

okay i feel like that's enough details about me? feels like I've told you nothing that's useful oh well LOL... I'd really love a ship for Criminal Minds and Marvel? if that's possible please? in case you missed it, i prefer men! (I'm a questioning bi, with a strong preference for men) for the hc prompt "what you do on your first date" or maybe "how you met + first impressions"?

thank you so much for being so kind and willing to do this ship requests thing!! I'm sure you're spending TONS of time and effort on this and aahhh i feel bad for typing so long paragraphs now (as you may have noticed i have a tendency to ramble on if not stopped because i am just really Socially Awkward ™ sometimes 💀 and have really bad (social) anxiety too) and i really think you're super amazing for doing this??? I'm so sorry if this took up too much of your time aaahhhhh thank you so so so much 🥺😭😭 really the biggest of congratulations to you for your 5.5k??? you really do deserve every single follower & i am SO insanely happy for you 🤩❤️

- 🌙🏒 anon

Don’t worry, you definitely provided enough information lmao.

And thank you for your kind words, I appreciate it.

I hope you like the ships I made for you

They are under the cut:

Criminal Minds:

I ship you with Hotch.

You get the age-gap here lol. He would be a bit hesitant due to the age gap at first, but he would get over it because he can not resist. He does not seem like the type of cuddles, and especially does not take part in PDA. But when you are alone he would love holding you and spooning, especially after a long day of work. Aaron would be attracted to your uniqueness as well as your intelligence and aesthetic, finding it to be very “you”.

How you met + his first impressions:

You met when you were transferred to the BAU as the new Forensic Pathologist.

Hotch thought you were very interesting when you first met and was definitely intrigued by you.

He thought you fit in fairly well and would get along with the others (which you do).

He appreciates a sarcastic sense of humor, so he would dig that as well.

Hotch could tell you had a form of anxiety and wold be patient around you when you first met so that you could open up to him at your own pace.

What you do on your first date:

He takes you to a hockey game.

He is not the sportiest person but he has had an interest in hockey for a while, sometimes watching it on tv.

When he learned that you liked it, he decided that this would be the perfect opportunity to invite you on a date as well as to see his first game.

After the game, you walked around town for a bit, getting some late night food and talking or a long time.

This allowed you to open up to him quite a bit and you grew more comfortable around him as well, which he is very happy about.

Best Friend:

Your best friend is JJ. She thinks you are really cool and unique and nice. She has the type of personality that is easy t get along with and open up too, so you bonded with her quicker than the others. I also feel like she is into hockey as well, so she appreciates your love for it as well.

Marvel:

I ship you with Sam.

I think Sam is a good fit for you. He is into sports, and digs your aesthetic. He is easy to get along with and very funny. He thinks your line of work is very interesting and loves to listen to you talk about it. Sam also really enjoys crime shows ans thrillers so he is always excited to meet someone who enjoys them as well.

How you met + his first impressions:

You met through Nat, who you had met through SHIELD years before.

You happened to be at the compound with Nat when Sam was there and she introduced you.

He immediately thought you were pretty and very interesting.

Sam could tell you were shy, but that did not stop him from flirting.

Though he also made some jokes and was easy going as to not scare you off.

He made sure to ask Nat about you once you left and managed to convince her to give him your contact info.

What you did on your first date:

He took you to the movies first, to watch the most recent crime thriller that came out.

After the movie you went to a nearby park and walked around, talking about the movie and other crime/horror related stuff.

You got food at a food truck and sat by the fountain together.

He was appalled when you told him that you didn’t eat that often (if came a part of your relationship later on that he would try to cook you meals that you’d like just so you WOULD EAT).

You ended up spending hours together, and it felt like no time at all.

So you were definitely up for another date with him, which he of course asked you about.

Best-Friend:

Natasha. She was the first one you met, and slowly introduced you to the others. She thought you were really cool when you first met and was surprised at how well you go along. That is sometimes hard for her to do, so once you became friends she never took that for granted. She and Sam would gang up on you when you weren’t eating btw.

xxaaron

#ship #ships #ship request #5.5k ships #anon ship #anon #ask

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halictus-writer · 4 years

Text

Welcome to Seattle (Ch. 2 of 5)

The next week went by smoothly. Remus had gotten into a familiar routine with his new job, and became more friendly with his colleagues who also wrote for the newspaper. He had always had a tough exoskeleton, but it didn’t take too long to become comfortable enough to let some of his walls down for a few select coworkers. In stark contrast to his friends from college, these coworkers did not press him for details about his dating-- or as James more bluntly put it, sex-- life. In any case, both were nonexistent.

*James changed the name of the chat to “Operation get Remus laid”*

James: Alright, here we go. Remus, are you ready to read some wisdom coming from yours truly?

*Remus removed James from the chat*

The truth was, Remus wasn’t opposed to getting back out there. The only drawback was that he didn’t know how to get back out there. His relationship with his ex had started organically, with little effort on Remus’s part. And being in a serious relationship for so long had saved him from having to learn how to flirt and casually date new people.

*Lily changed the name of the chat to “Help Remus get back out there, if he wants to”*

*Lily added James to the chat*

James: Alright Remus, you’ve had a chance to get all settled down in your new place, but now it is time to wake up and smell the coffee

Lily: What James means, Remus, is that we think you should maybe try to re-enter the dating scene. Only if you feel ready, of course.

Remus: is this an intervention?

Lily: no

James: yes

Dorcas: ooh are we voting? Marlene is driving so she can’t text but we both vote yes

James: Remus. My son. Fruit of my loins. You are a total catch. It is time for you to take your beautiful face out from behind those sad Jane Austen novels I know you’re rereading every night and get your freak on

Remus: I appreciate your investment in my sex life, I really do, but I think I’m doing fine.

Remus: also you’re not my dad. I’m older than you by five months

James: Oh really? Let’s play a game where you say True or False to each statement I make.

Remus: Fine. But only until my lunch break ends

James: Here’s the first one: My name is Remus Lupin

Remus: ...true

James: My favorite food is chocolate.

Remus: true

James: The most recent time I had sex was within the last 2 months

*Remus removed James from the chat*

Remus spent the rest of his lunch break walking through Pike Place Market. He loved the lively atmosphere of the place, and mentally mapped out the places he would like to spend more time in, in the future. No longer constrained by a vacation schedule, he can see as many shops and stores in Seattle as he would like.

He also sent pictures of the most interesting areas to the friend group via Snapchat. Having multiple avenues of communication proved to be very helpful for a group of people as prone to theatrics as they were. Any arguments or disagreements could stay in whatever platform they originated in, and if people were (temporarily) removed from that platform, they would still have access to another. This unspoken agreement allowed the group to plan James and Lily’s upcoming visit on Snapchat, while Remus kept up his faux-anger at James’s nosiness in the messages app. Remus knew he would tell them everything when he saw them in person, but being ambushed with the topic on a Tuesday while he was at work was not his preferred arena.

***

Saturday morning found the group reunited at a breakfast nook within the Market. Remus sat next to Lily in one booth, opposite Dorcas and Marlene, while James sat in a wooden chair on one end. Remus appreciated that his friends made sure their seating configuration didn’t highlight his own status as the fifth wheel.

After catching up on everyone’s lives, and many pointed glances directed at James from customers who evidently didn’t want to hear the piercing falsetto James used when reenacting conversations with Lily’s sister, the conversation found its way back to Remus’s dating life.

“Remus, you’re a catch and a half. It’s been a few months since your relationship ended, and it may be time to get back out there.” Lily started.

“It’s true,” Marlene added, nodding, “if I weren’t dating Dorcas I would be all over you and your wool cardigan. Almost makes me forget I’m a lesbian.” She laughed as she dodged a light flick from Dorcas.

“If you were a woman I’d totally sleep with you.” James said sincerely.

“Uh oh, misogynistic comment tax!” Dorcas swept in and took a piece of bacon from his plate before dividing it between Lily and herself. “For the vegetarian,” she made a half bow gesture from her seat as she presented Marlene with a liberated strawberry.

“Um, thank you for the votes of confidence, I think,” Remus began. “I appreciate it, I really do, well maybe not what James said, but I’ll admit defeat. I have been thinking about getting back into the dating scene.”

“A-ha!” James shouted, gesturing his final piece of bacon towards Remus. “The man is smelling the coffee. I can see it, he’s smelling it.”

“But,” Remus said softly, hoping that his reduced volume would subtly encourage James to be quieter as well, “I don’t really know how to meet people. I mean, we’re not in school anymore.”

“It isn’t easy, but you are in a much bigger city now,” Lily reasoned, “so theoretically your dating pool is much larger.”

“And there’s all kinds of designated queer spaces here!” James added. “You can go to gay bars and stuff, right?”

“I would pay to see Remus at a gay nightclub,” Marlene said, laughing.

“I would pay to see Remus awake past nine PM,” Dorcas said, “and not because you’re finishing a book.”

“Okay, okay, thanks everybody. I appreciate it.” Remus said flatly.

“Alright, let’s reel it in. Point is, you can meet people organically here, and we’ll support you.” Lily said. After she gave pointed looks around the table, the others nodded, although James was still smiling. “We can switch the topic now, but you better plan on keeping us updated on all your dating endeavors.”

James continued to smile mischievously, and added “And all of your casual sex endeavors. I need to know the exact starting date of your post-breakup hoe-phase. Get on the dating apps! You’d be a beast on there.”

“No.” Remus and Lily said in unison.

Lily continued, “I think you’ll have better luck meeting people organically. Dating apps can be creepy.”

When Dorcas finally changed the topic by prompting Marlene to tell the story of the cat she swore was taking the bus by itself last week, Remus sighed in relief.

***

A few days after James and Lily’s visit, Remus and Dorcas met for coffee before work. Once they had gotten their iced coffees, and in Remus’s case, a giant brownie (he hadn’t been to the Italian restaurant in a few days, so it was well-earned), Dorcas began a monologue that could hold its own against one of James’s.

"Alright. We love James and Lily. We love their beautiful, heterosexual, suburban lives. I am in awe of their enchanting, heterosexual love story, and how they met heterosexually and organically in their Communications class, and how it must have been meant to be when James was late to class and took the only available seat, next to our heterosexual princess.”

Remus laughed in silence, trying not to choke on a bite of brownie.

“Their heterosexual hearts are in the right place. Their heterosexual advice is kindly meant. And yet!” Dorcas announced, punctuating with one pointer finger, “you’re gay!”

Remus, having just finished swallowing the brownie and mistakenly taken a sip of coffee, struggled to not spit it out.

“Dating apps can be weird, of course, but it’s so much easier to meet other queer people there, and not worry as much about hoping the person you flirt with isn’t going to be offended by your existence.”

“Fair point,” Remus said, consciously not eating or drinking until Dorcas was finished.

“Until they open an LGBTQ+ bookstore coffee shop combo, which they totally should, and you would totally thrive in, you should get on Tinder."

Somehow Remus blushed at that, despite being a twenty-six year-old man who has dated before.

Dorcas called him on his blush, and laughed. “You are the most wholesome person I know, it’s too adorable. I won’t make you talk about it in public if it’s embarrassing, but just consider it.”

Remus agreed to do so, but secretly considered the pros and cons of staying single forever. Making a dating profile sounded anxiety-inducing.

***

When Remus walked through the doors of the Italian restaurant for the third time, he instantly felt a little better, as if his brain was already beginning to associate the place with the healing effects of the pizza he would soon be eating.

He had been feeling a little down this afternoon, with his thoughts often gravitating back towards his ex. He considered reaching out to one of his friends, since he knew they would be more than happy to talk him through it, but decided that a little alone time would do him good. Besides, he hadn’t eaten margherita pizza in over a week. It was time to indulge.

Looking up from his booth, he was momentarily surprised to find Sirius standing right in front of him, ready to take his order. Sirius hadn’t been working during Remus’s most recent visit, and Remus tried not to stare at the wavy pieces of hair framing his face, the rest tied back in place. Realizing that Sirius had spoken, Remus tried to regain composure.

“Hi, um, sorry, what was that?” So much for composure, Remus thought.

Sirius smiled warmly, holding eye contact. “You’re good. I just asked what I can get started for you today.” He added a little gesture to the pen and notepad he was holding.

“Oh, um, one small margherita pizza, please. And some water would be great, too.”

“Coming right up!” Sirius announced, and turned towards the kitchen. Remus pointedly looked away from the view, reminding himself that he was here to feel sad, not lustful. But, then again, maybe the latter would help him get over the former. Either way, his spirits were already lifting.

When Sirius returned carrying a beautifully steaming pizza, Remus was ready to devour it. He was also ready to speak words to Sirius like a normal person, having mentally rehearsed “Thank you, this looks great.” a hundred times.

“Thanks, you look great!” Remus expressed, looking at Sirius. His blush immediately materialized. “Wait, oh god. Sorry–”

Sirius laughed, “No worries! People tell me ‘you too’ when I tell them to enjoy their food, like, at least once a shift. You’re in good company.”

Remus smiled and felt a little more relaxed. “Thanks.”

Sirius shuffled for a second, looking like he had more to say, before saying “Well, enjoy your pizza!”

“You too!” Remus said, in mock sincerity. They both laughed.

***

When Sirius brought the check, he also dropped off a piece of tiramisu. “It’s for you!” He said, smiling and already walking away, as Remus tried to protest.

Remus ate about forty percent of the cake, mentally focusing intensely on the next plot point in his novel. Eventually, the soggy texture overpowered his desire to appear grateful for the free dessert, and he left the restaurant quietly when Sirius stepped back into the kitchen, away from sight.

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petri808 · 5 years

Note

If you're taking requests, how about a Nalu Christmas Au. The big writer lucy goes back to her hometown and meets her high school sweetheart after so long and a mutual break up, and her feelings resurface??

Happy Holidays Anon! Hope you like it!

All I want for Christmas

Nalu modern day AU, loosely inspired by the Mariah Carey song All I want for Christmas is s You. @fortheloveoffandomevents

“Come on it’d be great,” her friend Levy coaxes through the phone line. “I haven’t seen you for over a year because of your hectic schedule.”

Lucy sighs, “I know. The new book is doing great but travelling around the country for all the book signings has been tiresome.”

“Exactly! Which is why you need to come back to our hometown for the holidays and get the much-needed R & R you deserve. I’m not taking no for an answer Lu, I’ll send Gajeel to kidnap you if I need to.”

“Okay, okay!” Lucy laughs aloud and smiles to herself because she knows Levy would do it too. “I’ll come home for Christmas.”

“Good! You can stay with me. Text me the deets when you book your flight.”

“Alright. See you soon Lev…. And thanks!”

“That’s what best friends are for…”

Magnolia. Home to the Magnolia High Dragons and Fairytail Café where Lucy had spent the better part of her high school years hanging out with friends. After going away to nearby Crocus University, and a short-lived career at Sorcerer’s Weekly Magazine, her dreams had come true when one of her novels was picked up by a major publishing house. The rest, as one might say, was history.

Three successful novels later and 9 years out of high school, Magnolia was a city always on her mind but far from her ability to visit as often as she’d like to. Most of her closest friends still lived and worked there, like Levy Redfox, her best friend. Unfortunately, it was much more convenient to live in the bigger city of Crocus, close to her editor, so for now, Lucy made do with visits every chance she had.

It would be a 4-hour train ride from Crocus on the bullet train, putting her into Magnolia around 5pm that evening. Her plans were to stay a week, so as the train pulled away from Mercurius Station, Lucy settles in. Let the Vacation begin! There were so many things she was hoping to do in the short time she’d be visiting. One week sounds like a lot of time, but when you’re having fun it blows by quickly.

Day one was all about relaxation and settling in at Levy’s home with her family. Lucy was excited to see how big the Redfox twins were getting. Day two was planned as quality girl time with Levy and their friend Cana. As an early Christmas present, she’d signed the trio up for a spa morning at Blue Pegasus, then lunch at Fairytail Café, ending with a shopping trip so Lucy could pick up gifts. She could have shopped back at home, but that would have required lugging everything with her on the train. For the third day, Lucy and Levy would prepare for the Christmas Eve party Levy was hosting, cleaning, organizing, decorating, and cooking that needed to be done.

And that would bring her to Christmas Eve itself. The party was meant to be a friend reunion of sorts. As Cana had pointed out, parties were the quickest and easiest way to gather a bunch of people under one roof. All of their old friends from high school were planning on attending…

Lucy pauses in her thoughts. All of their old friends. She shakes off a creeping anxiety, nothing would ruin this trip for her as long as she didn’t let it. It’s not like it was a bad thing, awkward would be a better word for how she was feeling about seeing a certain person again. ‘You’ll be fine Lucy,’ her unconscious chimes in, ‘you two ended on good terms, went your separate ways for the sake of career choices. There’s no shame in that. He hadn’t even crossed your mind in years.’

That was true. This was the first time in probably 5 years that she’d actually thought about her high school sweetheart. Lucy had no idea what he was doing, if he was a family man now, or if he was even in Magnolia. She’d done that on purpose, not wanting to dredge up old emotions, even stayed away from social media to avoid coming across him and seeing things she may not want to see. Again, she shakes her head, ‘not gonna think about it!’ It wasn’t worth getting her hopes up. Lucy pulls out her headphones and turns on her music, it was time to send him back to her past once more.

“Levy!!” Lucy waves at her friend as she drags her suitcase across the train platform. The short woman was easy enough to spot thanks to the blue color of her hair.

“Lucy!!” Levy wraps her arms around and hugs tightly to her friend. “I’m so excited you’re here!!” She lets go, crossing over to take hold of the suitcases pull handle, “let me help you.”

“Thanks,” Lucy smiles, pulling from the other side.

Time flying by really was an understatement. Lucy had so much fun with Levy and Cana over the last couple of days, that she couldn’t even believe that Christmas Eve morning would dawn in a mere 7 hours. It was like the old days, the three of them goofing off around town, playing Princesses at the spa, and laughing it up at the café for hours. She was happy to see that place doing so well. Old man Makarov had finally given up the reigns to his grandson Laxus and his wife Mira to run, but while keeping the place the same, updated and livened it up even more.

It was almost midnight, as Lucy and Levy reclined on the couch with a couple of mugs of cocoa going over the morning routine. They expected guests to start arriving around 4 or 5pm which gave them all day for any last-minute decorating and cooking.

“I think we’ve got everything covered,” Levy states confidently. “I’ve got games for back up if things gets boring, music programmed on my Spotify. Gajeel is gonna take care of putting the drinks in the cooler and dealing with the grill. His parents will pick up the twins in the morning too.”

“I can’t wait to see everyone again,” Lucy takes a sip of her drink. “It’s been so long.”

“Everyone is excited to see you too Lu.”

Lucy brings her lips up to the cup and sips at her drink to muffle her words. “I doubt everyone.”

“Are you…” Levy sits forward, turning her body towards her friend, “Are you worried that Natsu won’t want to see you? He wouldn’t have accepted the invite if he felt that way.”

“I supposed,” Lucy sighs. She puts her drink down on the coffee table. “I’m probably just psyching myself out for nothing, but… 9 years is a long time.”

Levy places her hand on her friend’s shoulder, “you’ll be fine Lucy. Besides, there will be so many others here, you’ll have plenty of people to catch up with. Natsu will become just another face in the room.”

“I hope so.”

“You’re tired, so trying to sleep on it,” Levy squeezes Lucy’s shoulder before standing up. “In fact, we both need to get to bed.”

“You’re right. Goodnight Levy.”

All the guests had arrived by 6pm on Christmas Eve, packing the house full of people. Lucy was having a great time reconnecting with everyone, flitting around to the different pockets of partygoers. There was so much to talk about, she asking how they were doing, while they grilled her on the successes she was making in the literary world. Drinks flowed, music filled the air, and best of all her anxiety was keeping at bay for the time being. Natsu was around, talking with the guys and acting just as she’d imagined, unchanged, but seemingly uninterested in her. Not in a bad way, for he’d said hello, just not focused on her. Lucy wasn’t sure if that was upsetting or a relief.

After all these years he had barely changed. Natsu still looked as he did the last time, she’d seen him outside of the Fairytail café. Their break-up was mutual since she needed to go away for college, and he was leaving for the national guard. But that didn’t mean the feeling she held for him had gone away. Lucy groans internally, ‘Why did he still have to look so damn good!’ Her friend Juvia brought her up to speed on what Natsu had been doing. Apparently, he and Gray were now police officers here in Magnolia, which is why Natsu kept in such good shape.

By 11pm, the party had wound down. A few guests that had to work the next day, including Gray and Juvia had gone home, leaving just a handful relaxing in the living room or dining room areas. Lucy stood in the entryway that separated the two rooms, leaning against the frame after a conversation with Erza. She was growing tired but didn’t want to go to bed while guests were still there.

That was a lie. The main reason she didn’t want to leave was because Natsu was still there. All night she’d fought the urges bubbling up, the desire to see if there was still a spark between them. And the more it simmered, the more those thoughts ate away her. How do you go from being friends since primary school, joined at the hip by middle school, to a couple in love in high school, then nothing since then? Do such intents die so easily? A lot of people thought they’d become inseparable and were shocked when they broke up. It was both their choices, and both their faults for not keeping in touch over the years, but they’d been young.

Lucy sighs, and turns away so if he looked, Natsu wouldn’t see the light tears building in her eyes. She drags her finger under her eyes, catching a couple drops of tears. A stupid song on the stereo wasn’t helping either. Mariah Carey belting out, ‘All I want for Christmas is you…’ Yeah talk about a mood! Ugh, nostalgia mixed with alcohol was turning her into mush!

“Hey are you okay?”

She feels a light graze against her waist and stiffens. “I’m fine,” Lucy turns with a fake smile plastered on her face to hide the sadness, “just getting tired.”

“Luce, I know it’s been a long time, but you can’t hide from me. I could always tell when you’re feeling down.”

“I’m fine really, Natsu,” her smile only widens.

She knows he knows she’s lying.

“If you say so,” he plays along for the time being. “Hey... um, we didn’t really get a chance to talk tonight, but I wanted to congratulate you on the new book.”

“Oh, thank you, that’s really sweet of you.”

“I always knew you would be successful one day.”

“It is what I always dreamed of.” She almost wanted to say, it was a lonely experience, but catches herself before it slips out. Sure, she was doing well, but she was all alone in Crocus, and quite possibly this career is what cost her the once love of her life. Lucy pauses in thought, that was the first time she realized that about her choice. But it was a hard choice to make, her dream of being an author, or her dream man slipping through her fingers?

Natsu notices Lucy zoning out and waves a hand in front of her face. “Earth to Lucy?”

“S-Sorry.”

He chuckles, “I have one more question.”

She looks up and notices a nervousness settle on his face. “Oh--kay?”

“Are you still single?” Natsu rubs the back of his neck. “I-I don’t mean to be so forward, but I figured this might be my only chance and I needed to take it.”

Lucy blinks in surprise. “Yes, I’m still single. Why do you ask?”

“Because if you are then…. Then I want to do this.”

Before she can even ask what ‘this’ is, Natsu leans down and steals a rough and needy kiss upon her lips, holding it for what felt like a lifetime.

Lucy’s body immediately melts against him, and he reacts by wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her. All those dormant memories of their past trysts flood her mind. Natsu always felt so…. Perfectly made for her, and she for him.

Natsu pulls away slowly, letting their lips hover for a second, as if preparing for round two, before releasing part of his grip. He lowers his head, closing his eyes, savoring the heat left on his skin. “God Luce, I’m such an idiot for letting you go once.”

With a deep breath to steady herself again, Lucy leans her forehead to his. “You’re not the only one at fault.” She sighs, “I stayed away out of fear that you’d moved on, because I think my heart wouldn’t be able to take it. But we’re here… now…. It’s a… second chance if we want it.”

He smiles and cradles her face, “You’re all I ever wanted Luce.”

#nalu #nalu fan fic #request #modern au #christmas #christmas nalu #natsu dragneel #lucyheartfilia #all i want for christmas #nalu drabble #fairytail

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the-space-above-the-stars · 5 years

Text

shut up, this is a library

na jaemin x reader

summary: You work at the school library, which comes with the unfortunate repercussions of having to deal with Na Jaemin, the captain of the soccer team and incredibly gorgeous school flirt who finds fun in teasing you.

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: none

Genre: fluff

A/N: this is my last one part story coming out because I have a new series starting soon that I’m v excited for!

The SMU library was located just west of the quad, hard to miss. The building had a domed top, complete with a sun-roof, and every inch of the walls were lined with books. Any kid at the campus had been there more than once to cram for a test, or finish an assignment, or in the cases of some people you knew, get some sleep in order to avoid an annoying roommate.

You were a psychology major, and while that led to a pretty packed schedule, your professor, being absolutely great, never held class on Fridays. So every Friday afternoon, you put on your name tag and went to work at the library, checking out books, helping worried students in a rush to finish a research paper, and finishing up shelving books.

You pushed the thin metal frame of your glasses higher up your nose as you finished loading the cart with newly returned books that had to be shelved. The librarian was taking a sick leave, leaving you with one other worker who was late again. With a good push, the old cart finally moved, just in time as the bell at the front desk rang. Why they had a bell was a real mystery. “Coming,” you called, wheeling the cart out of the back room. “How can I- oh, it’s you again.”

There’s another aspect of this job that’s as predictable as the anxiety-riddled kids and your coworker being late, and that was Na Jaemin, who decided to drop in every week, well, to be more exact, every Friday just to talk you up. He flashes you the smile that you’ve basically memorized based on how many times you’ve seen it, his soccer bag thrown over one shoulder as he leans over the desk. “Hey cutie,” he winks and you have to physically restrain yourself from throttling him. “Come around here often?” His unapologetically loud tone catches the attention of more than a few people, whose eyes are now trained on the school flirt trying to sweet talk the library worker.

“I work here, dumbass, you’ve seen me here for the past 12 weeks.”

“And I think I speak for both of us when I say it’s been the highlight of our week.” Your eyes practically roll into the back of your head as you walk past him with the cart. “SO I saw you at my game last week. Checking me out on the field?”

“Don’t over-inflate your ego, balloon boy.” He’s incessant, walking along as you shelve books. “I was there with Mina, she has a crush on Jeno, he likes her too, I’m trying to get them together, keep up. Besides, you’re not much to watch on the field.”

“I made 6 goals, gorgeous,” he defends, grabbing the book you’re reaching for and sliding it into it’s place.

“You know, you’d be more help if you actually checked books out. If your cult following saw you at the library, maybe they’d come too. Actually study for once.”

“Ooh, is this you trying to spend more time with me?” He wiggles his eyebrows and you wack him with a book.

“What the fuck, no, why would I want to see more of-” you trail off as you stand on your tippy toes to slide an economics book into it’s place, but it’s just out of reach. Jaemin, chuckling, takes it from you and puts it away with ease. “Beanpole,” you grumble.

“Shortcake.”

“Isn’t this the part of your visit where I reject you and you assure me you’ll win me over before you leave?”

“Usually, but I’m shifting things up a bit, routine is boring. Looks like you need some help shelving all these books and from what it looks like, you’re the only person working here. And you’re- somewhat vertically challenged, unlike me.”

“So what you’re saying,” you sighed, sidestepping him and stepping on your tip toes to slip another book into place. “Is that you serve the same purpose as a step stool?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” He deadpans, grabbing some books from your cart. “Like you said before, sweetheart, my cult following means more business for the library,”

“Okay, so how do I know you won’t just flirt with them as I do all the work?”

“Sugar, you’re the only girl I’m flirting with,” he winks and you roll your eyes, shoving him away. “Come on, I need some sort of reaction from you,” he whines and you clap a hand over his mouth.

“Shut up, this is a library.”

“And I’m flirting with you,”

“Really? I didn’t notice. You’re losing your touch, Na.” But he stays on your heels as you work your way around your library. “Look, you wanna work here? Talk to the librarian when she comes in tomorrow, she goes through potential applicants.”

“And what if I want a date with you?”

“Well I can’t make it too easy for you, now can I? Then it’s just boring.”

“Oh, so you’re admitting you like me?” And suddenly he’s too close, leaning over the other side of the cart with his face centimeters away from yours and the bookshelf pressed against your back. You scoff, looking away as you slip out of the small space. “Deny it all you want, princess, you know you love me.”

“I’d love to kick you in the-”

“Jaemin!” Haechan calls him from the entrance of the library, looking very stressed. “Come on, practice is starting soon!”

“Buzzkill,” Jaemin sighs, but still flashes you the same flirty grin. “You know where to find me, babe.”

“Great, so will the hit man I send after you.” With a roll of his eyes, another wink and a blown kiss, he mimes putting a phone up to his ear and mouthing “call me” before Haechan drags him out of the library, looking very exasperated. You finally allow your face to flush, leaning your forehead against the cold wood of the bookshelf. Na Jaemin, you’re going to be the death of me.

***

The next week, you make your way to the library again, being greeted by the librarian before heading to the back room again. “Hana, how much did you- you’re not Hana.” And suddenly it’s like a bad dream come to life because Na Jaemin’s shoveling book’s onto a cart with a smug smirk you’d like to slap off of his face. “What the fuck are you doing here?” You groan, dropping your bag onto a corner and pinching your arm to make sure this is real.

“Shut up, princess, this is a library,” he mocks, tossing a book at you. “Some girl came in asking for this, she should be still waiting at the desk.”

Sure enough, there’s a girl waiting for her copy of A Tale of Two Cities outside. She smiles slyly at you, leaning over the table as you scan her student ID. “Does Na Jaemin really work here now?”

“Yeah but-”

“Hey babe,” Jaemin pokes his head out. “Give me a hand with these?” The girl’s face drops, automatically pulling an assumption about the two of you as Jaemin grins and your face blushes bright red. You don’t look at her as you hand her the book, whacking Jaemin on the back of the head. “Ow, what did I do?”

“You idiot, she thinks we’re dating!”

“What’s so wrong with that?” He smirks, getting a little too close for comfort as he leans forward over the other side of the cart.

“So many things, just so many things.”

“Come on, I started working here, I can’t be that bad.”

“Is that a question or a statement? Don’t you have soccer practice today?”

“Aww, you pay that much attention to my schedule?”

“What?!” You shove him and he laughs. “No, stop-”

“It’s alright, beautiful, I get it. And no, I moved practice to Thursdays.”

“Just so you could work at the library?” He nods, not giving it much thought. You on the other hand, are starting to turn pink and bury your face into a copy of Milk and Honey as if you’re checking out the bar code.

*** So Na Jaemin is finally starting to not get on your nerves. He gets in earlier than you, and while his flirting hasn’t completely stopped, he has stopped throwing around pet names and asking you out on dates. He does also get a lot of work done, so he’s nice to have around in that aspect, and- okay, maybe you’re starting to like the guy.

“Hey gorgeous,”. He stopped throwing the nicknames around, doesn’t mean he’s stopped using them in entirety. It’s well into February and Jaemin walks in late for the first time, pulling a snow-sprinkled beanie off his head and placing a starbucks cup on the desk in front of you. “For you, keeper of books.”

You roll your eyes, but take a sip. “White chocolate mocha, how’d you-”

“I have my sources,” he winks and takes a sip of his own coffee, which looks like if someone turned the souls of the innocent into liquid. He doesn’t even flinch as he takes a long gulp, and you’re slightly worried for the man. “SO what are we doing today?”

“Well no one’s here so there’s nothing really to do but stamp some of these cards.”

“Some?” He gestures to the large pile of books next to you that still need to be stamped, and you just shrug. “Okay, two people can take this down faster, hand me a book.”

***

“NO! That did not go in!” Jaemin protested. A few hours later and you both had finished stamping the rest of the books. With nothing left to do, you both had turned to a regular game of table football, but you were on the ground, so was it floor football? Ground football? Your mind was racing, probably because after finishing your own drink, you and Jaemin had shared the rest of his, and all that espresso was really making you both giddy.

“It so did!” You roll your eyes and pick up the little paper football, ignoring Jaemin’s outcries. “Which means I’m 2 points ahead of you!”

“Oh yeah, well one last round, winner takes everything,” Jaemin offers, leaning over and daintily plucking the piece of paper from your fingers.

“What are we betting?” You pout, slumping back to the ground and forming a goal as Jaemin lines the football up.

“Okay, we each go twice, and the winner decides what the loser has to do.”

“Fine.” Jaemin positions the football and takes his shot. It clearly passes through your goal, and you wrinkle your nose at him. “Show-off.”

“Just go for it.” Your first one flies through Jaemin’s goal easily, and his next one does the same. “It’s all on you, L/N,” he teases, passing the football over to you between his thumb and index finger.

Oh god, what was he gonna make you do it you lost? You positioned the football, ready to win and make Na Jaemin do whatever you wanted when-

ding, ding, the bell rung just as you pulled your finger back to flick the ball. You flinched and the football passed to the right, missing the goal by a few inches. Jaemin snorted, pumping his fist up in victory. “no, no no no, the bell rang, that doesn’t count”

“Uh uh, one last round, L/N, we didn’t say any more! I win!” He disappears to answer the bell and you sigh, laying in worry as to what he’s gonna make you do.

When he comes back, you’re getting up. “Hey, hey, where do you think you’re going, we have a bet to handle.”

“Ugh, fine, what do I have to do?” You groan. Cheer for him at all his games, set him up with a friend? Cover your shift all by yourself?

“Go on a date with me.”

“Wait, what?” He smiles, not a smirk or a grin, just a small smile and bends down to your eye level, repeating the words again.

“Go. on. a. date. with. me. tomorrow.”

“You want to go out with me?”

“Thanks for finally noticing,” he laughs. “Come on, I think your opinion of me has raised enough for one date. And if it does bad, I’ll let the whole thing go, forever. I promise.”

What’s stopping you? It’s just one date, anyway, but what scares you is if it becomes more than just one date. “Okay,” you nod, still in shock. “Tomorrow, 6:00, pick me up from my dorm.”

Jaemin laughs again and grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you in for a hug. You smile, and then he catches you off guard by kissing your cheek. “Finally, it took me 6 months to get a date with you! Uh, okay, 6:00, I’ll pick you up, dress casual- yeah, okay. Our shift is over, I gotta go!” Scooping up his bag, he waves one last time before disappearing from the back room.

Still in a haze from everything that just happened, you sink against the wall, smiling as you bury your head in your hands, the small paper football still closed in one. What were you getting yourself into?

341 notes · View notes

sa-gt-tarrius · 5 years

Text

Done Deal [Secret Santa gift]

Warnings (the most prominent ones are in bold): Mild language, lots of crying, panic attacks, self-deprecating thoughts, mentions of malnutrition, unsympathetic Deceit, angst for weeks

A deal is a deal, that much is true. But snakes aren’t known for their integrity. Virgil should have figured that out months ago. Meanwhile, cryptozoology and rebuking the laws of mathematics disrupt Logan’s daily routine.

Excuse me while I post this before noon lol. I figured I’d give my secret sander some time to read their gift while I’m at work today.

@secret-sanders-sized — Thank you so much for organizing this secret santa! It can’t have been easy to coordinate such a big event, especially so close to the holidays. I applaud your hard work and tenacity, but I REALLY hope you get some rest once it’s all over.

@killerfangirl3 — I had a blast working on this and I’m proud of the result. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! (I’m so sorry about the block of text. I was aiming for 6k words max, but I got... carried away. Oof.)

~~~

Part 1:

Patton Sanders was one of the few people you could find awake during the witching hour. It was common to find him binging old cartoons or sifting through photographs through the dead of night while the rest of the world slept. And every morning, without fail, Patton would wake up one hour later than his roommate. He'd either dash about to get ready for the day, cry for a few minutes, or just give up and sleep until noon.

Logan never understood how Patton could, as they say, burn the candle at both ends. He'd tried discussing the possibilities of health problems stemming from erratic sleeping, only to be met with disheartened shrugs of agreement. Patton didn't seem to care, so Logan just let him be. As long as he was on time for work, there was nothing else Logan could do for him.

On the flipside, Logan’s sleep schedule was curated to a science. He was in bed at ten, asleep at ten-fifteen, and awake no later than seven the next morning. If Logan happened to fall asleep just minutes later than usual, he would be too tired to wake up in the morning, thus disrupting his entire day. Going to bed at the same time every night was not only ideal, but it was also necessary for his health and his sanity. Logan couldn't function without routine.

That’s why Patton was surprised when Logan stumbled down the stairs into the kitchen at 2:53 AM. Patton didn't even hear him at first; he was too busy checking the cookies in the oven to notice his roommate was nearby. At that moment, Logan resembled a nerdy cryptid, wandering the halls like a phantom. His eyes were baggy and bloodshot, and his face was drooping from exhaustion. Patton had to wonder if Logan slept at all.

“Logan?” Patton piped, eyeing the other man carefully. Logan hummed in reply, tiredly fiddling with the coffeemaker. Patton tried to grab his attention again, louder this time. “Kiddo... you’re up late.”

“Mmm, yes, yes,” Logan mumbled. He chuckled to himself, twirling a mug around in his hands. “I need coffee.”

Patton stared at his roommate, bewildered by his lacklustre response. He found it odd to be the coherent one of the two for once. Usually, it was Logan who struggled to deal with a delirious Patton. It was jarring to have the roles reversed. “Logan,” he said once again, “what are you doing at this hour?”

Logan turned away from the coffee machine, his weary eyes straining to focus on Patton. Was it because it was dark, or because he was just that exhausted? Perhaps it was because he had forgotten to put on his glasses. It took Patton a moment to remember that Logan never forgets his glasses.

“...It’s been a very long week,” Logan finally sighed, turning his attention to the sugar and cream. The machine beeped softly, and Logan got to work pouring a hearty glass of caffeine for himself. “Sorry for interrupting. I’ll be out of your way in a moment."

Patton blinked twice, taken aback. “What? No, no, no!” he exclaimed, raising his voice a bit. “I—I didn't mean it like that! I'm just worried about you. Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?"

A groan erupted from Logan's throat at Patton’s sudden outcry. His hands shot up to his temple, trying to ease his pounding headache. "I'm fine," he assured him. "I lost track of time is all."

"Oh." Patton frowned, then smiled again to cover it up. "Well, if you're up, why not come sit with me? The cookies are almost finished."

"Cookies," Logan deadpanned incredulously, "at three in the morning?"

"Don’t be a flour-puss, Logan," Patton replied with a cheeky grin. He turned to the oven, fishing out an oven mitt from a nearby drawer. "Go sit at the table. I'll be right there."

Logan simply nodded. He pulled out a chair and plopped down, swirling his coffee around mindlessly. Maybe it was because it was late and his brain was barely functional, but Logan's thoughts wouldn't stop racing. He was sure that if he were fully awake, he could handle this situation with ease. He'd tell Patton that everything was fine and that he was just stressing over an upcoming exam. But, for some godforsaken reason, Logan was considering telling Patton what he was really doing up at this hour. But would Patton understand? Would he even believe him?

Logan didn't even notice when Patton took a seat across from him. He only jolted out of his trance once a plate of cookies clattered onto the table, producing a quiet clunk that scared Logan more than he'd be willing to admit. Patton muttered an apology as he adjusted himself to get comfortable. Logan couldn't even meet his gaze.

“So,” Patton began, shifting uncomfortably. Logan wasn’t exactly looking forward to this conversation either. “...Up and about at three? You’re turning into me, kiddo. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing,” Logan huffed, his tone a bit harsher than he would have liked. He immediately regretted opening his big fat mouth upon seeing Patton’s hurt expression. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean… it’s just been… busy. I’ve been distracted by my research project."

"Research project?" Patton tilted his head. "You mean for your class?"

"No." As soon as the damning word left his mouth, Logan quietly cursed under his breath. "I mean... y—yes. For my class." Patton looked unconvinced. "Look, it's nothing important. I have nothing aside from school tomorrow. I'll be able to sleep in for a while. I’ll be fine.”

"Kiddo..."

"It's nothing, Pat."

Patton's expression softened. He reached out and grabbed Logan’s hand, squeezing it gently. "Logan, please. I’m worried about you. You know you can talk to me about anything, right? We’re friends. I’m here for you.”

Logan managed a smile. “I know you are, Pat. It’s just… Well... I’m not sure you’d believe me.” When Patton didn’t reply right away, Logan continued. “I’m not quite sure I believe it myself. Maybe I’m just delusional.”

“Delusional,” Patton repeated, holding back an ironic laugh. “Logan, you’re the most logical person I know. If you believe something, you probably have good reason to. Besides…” Patton glanced at their interlocked hands. “...you always do this. Keep things to yourself, I mean. It’s not healthy.”

Logan opened his mouth to retort, but no words came, so he nodded along.

“So please… tell me what’s going on with you. I’m worried.”

“Well, I…” Logan paused, tensing up. He glanced around the room, then tightened his grip on Patton’s hand. “Perhaps it would be better to show you instead.” He stood up, tugging Patton upstairs to his room. Patton didn’t argue. He simply followed and hoped that Logan would be okay.

Part 2:

Maybe Virgil was an idiot for borrowing tonight. At least one of the two humans was usually awake at this ungodly hour. But Virgil didn’t need much this time around—a paper clip from Logan’s room was all he had to grab. A paper clip would be perfect for making a climbing hook. Virgil misplaced his old hook somewhere, so he had to make a new one.

Deceit was out exploring somewhere, perhaps scouting a different floor, so Virgil had to go borrowing alone this time. That sucked, mainly because Virgil hated borrowing with every fibre of his being. It was dangerous, physically taxing, and took way too long. But it had to be done, so Virgil decided to just get it over with so he could go to his room and sleep. Once the coast was clear, Virgil silently slipped into Logan’s room.

Logan was the better human to borrow from, in Virgil’s humble opinion. Logan was predictable, almost to a creepy extent, making his belongings easy pickings. Besides, Patton’s room had bugs in it from being too filthy. Logan’s room was cramped and cluttered to be sure, but at least it was clean and somewhat organized. As long as Virgil was careful and left everything as he found it, borrowing from Logan’s room was fairly straightforward.

But this time around, something was different. Virgil couldn’t put his finger on it, but the room wasn’t the same tonight. It was… quiet. Almost too quiet. Wait, was Logan even in here? Virgil peered upwards to the bed, straining his eyes for a snoring mass beneath the blankets. Nope, Logan was nowhere to be found. That was odd, but Virgil would not waste this opportunity. He scrambled under the bed to orient himself before making the climb up the desk.

“Weird,” Virgil muttered under his breath. Logan was practically a robot. He did the same thing at the same time every day without fail. To see him breaking that routine was rare. Virgil crouched down on the carpet, leaning on a small paper box next to him. That’s when it struck Virgil—that box wasn’t any old box!

By some strange stroke of luck, Virgil stumbled upon the box of paper clips beneath the bed, which meant Virgil didn’t even have to step into the open. What a lucky break! Virgil didn’t think to question how they’d gotten under the bed frame. Instead, he frantically started stashing paper clips into his sack, being careful not to poke himself with the metal tips. Virgil technically only needed one paper clip, but they were versatile enough for most home repairs or impromptu tools, so Virgil thought it best to take at least five.

However, just as he was closing the paper clip box behind him, the bedroom door opened.

Part 3:

Patton didn't know what to expect when he entered Logan's room. The room was usually clean, if not disorganized from all the stray notebooks. However, Patton quickly realized that the whole room was a complete mess tonight. There were pencils and papers were scattered across the surface, and Logan’s laptop had over 30 tabs open, including multiple math and physics articles, an anatomy lecture on youtube, and a webpage detailing various mythological creatures.

Logan stopped by the desk, facing Patton with the most intense and pleading expression he had ever seen. "Promise me you won't think I'm crazy,” Logan said firmly. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” Patton said without thinking. In reality, he was quickly becoming worried. What could have Logan riled up this much?

Logan took a deep breath, full-screening one of the physics articles on his browser. “Are you familiar with the square-cube law?” Patton shook his head. “Right... In layman’s terms, as an object’s surface area increases, its volume increases much more than you’d intially believe. An object that is twice its original size will NOT be twice as dense as the original—rather, the volume increases by a factor of eight. The same principle applies to things decreasing in size. Do you follow so far?”

“Yes,” Patton said, despite not understanding a word Logan was saying.

“I’m getting to the point, I swear...” Logan pulled up a biology seminar, pointing at various graphs on the screen. He was getting excited now, pacing about the room as he spoke. “Many people have wondered what would happen if a human being were to become extremely small. The short answer is... no one could survive for long at that size. A miniature human being would encounter a multitude of problems that the species isn’t designed to handle… a shortage of body heat, bad eyesight, and the obvious problem of being too small to process oxygen—”

“Sorry, kiddo,” Patton blurted, looking rather dazed and confused, “but could you just, um… get to the point?”

Logan coughed, looking a bit embarrassed. “Well, the point is… erm... Heh heh, the idea of tiny people is ludicrous, correct? According to everything we know about biology and physics, it shouldn’t even be possible for a human being that small to exist.” He shuffled awkwardly, suddenly at a loss for words. “So… I suppose… it’s, erm… Well, it’s a ridiculous concept, anyway. But I can’t help but wonder if…”

As Logan stumbled his way through the sentence, Patton’s eyes lit up a bit. “Do you think… maybe it is possible after all?”

“Well, it shouldn’t be,” Logan huffed, “but it’s the only explanation I can think of. You see, I… I’ve been tracking some strange occurrences lately. Food has been vanishing from the cupboards. There are tiny hidden doorways in the walls by the floorboards. There’s three in the kitchen and two in the living room. It’s so peculiar.”

“Couldn’t it just be mice? Or some other rodent?”

“That’s what I thought, too. But then I found something…” Logan opened the desk drawer and pulled something out. He carefully placed it in Patton’s hands. It was a piece of twine, beaten up and fraying. One end was tied into a sturdy loop, and the other was attached to a hook made of a fishing hook. Patton bent down and stared at it, unsure of what he was looking at. “I found it in the cupboard with the ramen,” Logan explained. “No mouse is capable of constructing tools like this.”

“That’s true,” Patton muttered, stroking his chin. “But still… tiny people? Are you sure?”

Logan looked away, biting his lip. “Well… there’s one more thing I need to show you.” He clicked the mouse twice, opening a folder of videos. The timestamp on the most recent one clocked in at a whopping 61 hours. “I set up video cameras in here a few days ago. And I think I caught one on film.”

Patton gasped sharply. “What? Really?!”

“Yes… Here. Look at this.”

The pair kept their eyes glued to the screen as a video began to play. It was a fuzzy recording of Logan’s room from above the door. Patton shot a glance to that part of the room; sure enough, a security camera hung there, a pale red light flashing faintly from its side.

At first, it seemed like the footage was frozen. But then, in the corner of the frame, something moved. Patton couldn’t quite discern what it was. The shadowy figure scuttled across the floor and onto the desk, rummaging through Logan’s belongings.

“There.” Logan paused the video, pointing to the figure excitedly. He zoomed in, growing more excited as the faint silhouette of a person came into view. “There it is.” The footage was dark and blurry, but Patton saw it. The shape of a person, no more than five inches tall, hunched over on Logan’s computer desk. Logan tore his attention away from the screen to fix his gaze on Patton. “Normally, I’d acknowledge that this is a stupid hypothesis and I’m just sleep-deprived. But…” He paused, staring at the tiny figure on the video feed. “...I think I may be onto something.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Patton said quietly. He slowly twirled the hook around in his fingers, enamoured by the impossibly miniature handiwork.“I mean… it’s weird, for sure. But the evidence is right there.”

“Indeed. I just have to make sure I’m right.” Logan hunched over the computer, closing a few of the tabs. “All of this evidence is for naught if I can’t prove anything. I have to know for sure. So I’ve been setting up traps that would be able to capture something more intelligent. I’m also considering checking out the holes in the kitchen more closely, although I’m afraid of scaring it away…”

“So this is your research project,” Patton said as the pieces clicked into place in his mind. “This is why you’ve been up late.”

“Yes, I believe that these creatures are likely nocturnal. But I haven't had much luck with finding traces of them.”

Patton grinned, leaning over Logan’s shoulder and closing the laptop. “Well, maybe I can help with that. Two heads are better than one, after all.”

“That... That would be satisfactory,” Logan said with a small smile. He should have known better than to doubt Patton.

Part 4:

Now, as far as they knew, Logan and Patton would continue to speak in total privacy. They discussed Logan’s findings and hypotheses about why tiny people are living in the walls. They argued about the possible origins of such a species, and what kind of bait to use to catch it, and whether glue traps were considered humane. What they didn’t know was that someone was listening to their conversation from beneath the bed.

Virgil’s mind was racing and his heart was beating so fast that he was sure it’d pop out of his chest. Damn it all! He was so careful, so calculated with his borrowing, never leaving a trace of his presence. But despite his valiant efforts, Logan realized that he was in the apartment. And they even had recordings of him! It was only a matter of time before they were captured. If only he hadn’t let them find his damned grappling hook...

Virgil didn't enjoy entertaining the thought of being caught by humans—it caused him too much distress. But the imminent discovery of borrowers in the apartment seemed fast approaching. Would they kill him? Keep him as some pet? Experiment on him? Toss him outside to freeze in the winter cold? Virgil wasn’t keen on finding out, which meant only one thing: they would have to move. Quickly.

Virgil had only moved once in the past, to move out of his parent’s home when he came of age. He was ill-equipped to move on such short notice on his own. But that was one solace Virgil had: he didn’t live alone anymore.

About a year ago, he’d met another borrower who was looking for shelter from the first snowfall of the season. He called himself Deceit, which was an apt name, considering he was the living embodiment of sliminess. He was the best borrower Virgil ever met; Virgil had to wonder how he became so adept.

Virgil quickly learned that Deceit didn’t talk about himself. All Virgil knew about Deceit is that he’d been alone for almost all of his life. The mysterious borrower never talked about the scars covering half his face, or the slight limp on his left side. He never talked about his family, or his past, or his tendency to hide away in his room for hours.

Thinking back, Deceit probably wouldn’t have given Virgil a second thought at first; the strange borrower seemed perfectly content on his own. But when Virgil pleaded for Deceit to stay with him after the winter passed—Virgil must have been lonely if he was willing to trust a stranger that much—they eventually agreed on living together.

It was a contractual friendship, so to speak. Deceit would usually borrow for the both of them, being the sneakier of the pair. In exchange, Virgil provided Deceit with a place to stay. Additionally, Virgil was a skilled builder and mechanic, able to construct all sorts of tools from scraps that Deceit found under the fridge and behind the couch. His home was fully insulated, wired with working lights, and outfitted with furniture. So not only could Deceit stay hidden with Virgil, but he was also warm, safe, and comfortable.

The two quickly adjusted to the balance. They’d been living together for about a year with little issue. Both of the humans in the apartment were unassuming, and Deceit never gave them any reason to believe things were amiss. But now... their delicate way of life was being threatened. Everything that they worked for was about to be for naught.

Shaking his head, Virgil retreated into the wall. He'd have to tell Deceit the bad news so they could start packing right away.

As he made his way through the walls, Virgil’s fear of being caught gave way to spite and anger. This would put a whole three years of borrowing to waste. Now what? Where would they even go now that they couldn't stay in the apartment? The snow was falling like bullets this late in the year, so they didn't even have the option of fleeing into the woods nearby. They'd have to pray and hope that there was a building close enough to move to.

At least he had Deceit with him. Having someone to keep him sane will be all too necessary now.

”Hey, Dee?” Virgil called out, slipping into the main room. He immediately went toward his room, intending to fetch his gear. “Dee, we need to talk. It's important.”

When no one replied for a minute, Virgil entered his room to grab his stuff. It couldn’t hurt to get a head start with packing. Virgil ran through his mental checklist of supplies as he stepped into his room. He would need food for a few days, his collection of homemade jackets (he’d need all of them if he wanted to stay warm), and his borrowing gear. New hook, bag, blade… What else should he need? It’d been too long since he moved Virgil took a quick look around to get ideas on what to bring.

He paused, did a double-take, and stumbled back in shock.

His room was completely empty. There were no clothes in the closet, no bag of tools by the door, and none of Virgil’s journals on the shelf. The blankets from his makeshift bed were stolen away. Even the emergency rations he hid behind a loose board were missing. Virgil stood still and gaped horror for a good few minutes. What happened here?

Virgil quickly paced around the room, inspecting the empty room more closely. Somebody stripped the place of everything but the heavy furniture, like the side table and the dresser. Everything else was just… gone. Well... there was one other thing. A small folded note with Virgil’s name on it. Virgil hesitated before tentatively opening the note, dreading the contents.

virgil, the humans know about us. i just finished packing. meet me in the pantry right away.

Virgil read and re-read the letter a few times, relief washing over him. On a hunch, Virgil went into Deceit’s room too. It was empty too. Presumably, Deceit had already packed everything. Okay, Deceit knew too. And he’d already packed their things. That’s good. That’s good. Breathe, Virgil.

This was… good. As soon as they’d stocked up on food, they could leave. Leave it to Deceit to be two steps ahead of things. Virgil was at ease knowing that such a competent borrower would join him on the journey to a new home. However, as Virgil made his way towards the pantry, he still couldn't help but worry about what the future held. Virgil lived in this apartment building for most of his adult life. He wasn’t keen on leaving it all behind. And he still wasn’t sure where they could go. Maybe they could just move down the block? Would that be far away enough to throw the humans off their scent?

“Dee?” Virgil whispered, finally arriving at the pantry. He emerged from the hidden tunnel, carefully slipping into the open. Deceit was there, but hadn’t noticed Virgil yet; he was busy cutting into the tops of boxes and fishing food out of them. The other borrower was struggling to reach the cereal below him. “Dee, I’m here.”

Deceit perked up, whirling his head around. “Good. I need help with stocking.” He gestured for Virgil to climb onto the cereal box with him. “I can’t reach. Can you climb in and pass me what’s inside?”

“Sure.” Virgil made his way up the shelves, careful not to let his foot get caught between the thin metal bars that made up the shelves. When he reached the cereal box, he carefully lowered himself next to Deceit, peering inside. “How much do you need?”

Deceit squinted his eyes, scanning the contents of the box. “Just a few pieces should be enough. This'll be the last of it. I’ve already packed granola and some trail mix.” Virgil nodded, handing Deceit his bag and lowering himself into the box. He sunk a bit into the cereal at first but stayed close to the top of the box with a bit of effort. “Throw up what you can,” Deceit said. “Try to get bigger pieces.”

“Okay.” Virgil got to work tossing various bits of cereal up and out of the box. Deceit caught them and shoved them into his shoulder bag, filling it to the brim. After a few minutes, his bag couldn’t hold anything more. “Is that enough?”

“Yes, that’s perfect.” Deceit grinned widely, glancing around the pantry. Nope, no sign of the humans. “And with hours to spare.”

Virgil huffed, sinking even lower into the cereal. “That’s great. Can you help me out now? I’m sinking.”

Deceit blinked, staring at Virgil from above. “Oh, are you now? Isn’t that a shame?” He grinned even wider, adjusting the straps of his bag. “You’re a good person, Virgil. It’s a shame you’re so naïve.”

Virgil froze up. “What?”

Maybe it was Virgil’s imagination, but Deceit’s face seemed to darken in reply to Virgil’s stuttering. “I enjoyed our time together, Virgil. Maybe you’ll get out of there before you suffocate.” He laughed jollity. “Or before you… you know… get caught.”

“You tricked me!” Virgil hollered, momentarily forgetting that he should keep quiet while humans were in the house. “You’re stealing my stuff, you little—”

“Excellent observation, Virgil. You’re so clever.”

“I thought we were a team,” Virgil hissed as he struggled against the cereal, feeling his chest sink below the surface. Tears began to prick at his eyes. “We were in this together! We had a deal!”

“The deal is off,” Deceit hummed, vanishing from sight. His footsteps sounded from outside the box. Virgil could barely make his muffled voice out. “If you hadn’t left your hook lying around, I wouldn’t have to do this. When the cards are down, it’s every borrower for himself.” He paused, his voice growing quiet. “For your sake, I hope you escape soon. The humans will be here in a few hours.”

Virgil’s breath quickened. A panicking sensation began to well up in his stomach. “Where will you go?” He cringed at the way his voice cracked. “You’ll freeze out there. It's too cold.”

“Mmm, I don’t know about that. With all these jackets of yours, I should be warm enough.”

“You bastard!” Virgil screamed angrily, quickly becoming more and more desperate to get out. Was Deceit going to leave him here? After all they’d been through together? “Let me out right now, or I swear—”

“Or what? You’ll call me even more vulgarities? Why, I’m shaking in my boots.” Deceit let out a hearty chuckle. “I’d love to stay and quiver more, but I really must get going. Good luck, Virgil,” Deceit whispered coyly, “and thank you for everything.”

“Don’t you dare leave me here!” Virgil squawked, not wanting to believe the sound of Deceit’s footsteps pattering away. “Dee?! D—Deceit! Wait! Don’t leave me!” Virgil wasn’t exactly listening more than he was simply panicking, but he knew at that moment Deceit was gone for good. Where he went, he’d never know. Virgil was alone now, with nothing to his name, and with humans hot on his trail. He was trapped and afraid and all alone. He stopped shouting, and instead relegated himself to emitting quiet sobs.

Was this it, then? Was he stuck here forever? Or would the humans find him when the sun came up? Virgil didn’t want to find out. He grunted and cursed to himself as he writhed in place, but he only sunk ever deeper beneath the quicksand of sugary wheat crisp. Only his head and arms were above the surface now, and he wasn’t keen on having his entire body buried in sugar and wheat puffs.

Virgil grit his teeth, remembering the breathing exercises his parents taught him. Four in, seven hold, eight out. But more than ten minutes went by and Virgil couldn’t calm down enough to hold his breath for more than two seconds. His constant struggling and weeping were pulling his neck and shoulders underneath.

You have to calm down. Virgil shook his head, clearing his messy and diluted mind. Keep it together, Virge. You can’t give up just yet. He would stay alive—he had to. There was no way he was about to go down in such an undignified manner. Virgil steadied his breathing, keeping his entire body as still as possible. Then, ambling with care, he wiggled his feet around, trying to find his footing. If he could just get a foothold on something, then maybe he could hoist himself up and escape. But try as he might, Virgil’s feet helplessly sifted through the cereal like it was water. He couldn’t get to the top of the box.

Virgil’s next instinct was to writhe around and tilt the box onto its side, but the borrower was discombobulated from panicking—he did not know which way he was facing. If he knocked the box over the wrong way, the fall to the distant ground would seal his fate. And even if he survived the fall, he’d be too injured to escape before the humans found him.

That left only one option, which was to wait and bide his time. Perhaps the humans would walk into the pantry without checking his hiding place. If he could just listen for the direction of the pantry door, he’d know which direction to tilt the box without toppling off the shelf. It wasn’t ideal, but it seemed to be the only way out of this mess. So Virgil took a deep breath, willed his body to stay perfectly still, and waited.

Part 5:

Patton didn’t quite believe in the existence of tiny people in the walls. As Logan said, it was a bit outlandish. Still, something strange was going on. Logan showed him the hidden doorways scattered across the apartment; they were so well hidden that Patton didn’t see them at first, even after having Logan point them out. Patton also examined the hook a bit more while Logan scoured his security camera footage. It was well-crafted, with secure knots and loops holding the hook in place. It seemed too small for a person to make, but too complex and intelligent for a rodent to make. So even though Patton was still in doubt, he had to admit that Logan had a point.

That being said, their “research” wasn’t making any progress. Aside from what Logan already found, the two humans couldn’t find any further evidence of tiny humanoids in the apartment. And soon, it was time for Logan to go to bed. He'd have to be ready for class in the morning.

“I don’t work today,” Patton said as he fished out two bowls from the drawer. “So we can look more when you come back.”

“Of course,” Logan replied. He was busy with the coffee machine again, discarding the filter he used earlier. “I’ll check the library on campus to see if there are any resources that might help us.”

Patton nodded. “And I’ll keep looking online.” He wandered into the pantry, reaching for the nearest box of cereal. “What should I do if anything comes up?”

Logan hummed, thinking for a moment. “Maybe just… call me. My ringer will be off when I’m in class, but I check it regularly.” He glanced over at Patton, who had finished pouring his cereal and was shoving his head into the fridge. Logan blinked thrice. “I didn’t know that brand of cereal came with a toy.”

“They don’t,” Patton replied as he dug out the milk from the fridge.

“Then what is that?”

Patton looked over at Logan. The other man was staring intently at the table, eyes widened and eyebrows raised. Patton followed his gaze to the aforementioned cereal bowl; a strange purple object was protruding from beneath the cereal. Cocking his head, Patton twisted the cereal box in his hands, searching the labels for any sign of a toy inside. He found nothing.

“That’s weird,” Patton muttered, turning his attention back to the bowl, only to screech in horror. That purple thing just moved. On its own. Logan jumped, nearly dropping his mug on the floor. Patton backpedalled across the room, his back pressed tightly against the fridge. “Wh—what is it?! It’s moving!”

“I’ve got it,” Logan grunted as he reached for a nearby dishcloth. He approached the bowl slowly, spreading the cloth out with his hands. Then, with careful precision, the dishcloth was neatly placed atop the squirming thing, effectively trapping it inside. “Patton… pass me the dish gloves.”

It took Patton a second to respond. He quickly grabbed the gloves from inside the sink and placed them on the table near Logan. “Thanks,” he said, focusing on putting the gloves on one at a time as to not take his hands off the cloth. “Now… stand back. I’m taking the cloth off now.”

Patton nodded, keeping his distance as Logan slowly peeled the cloth away. Both of them let out startled, disbelieving gasps.

“...I think we found it, Logan.”

Virgil didn’t want to believe any of this. He expected to wake up any second, back at home. He’d get up for breakfast and Deceit would chastise him for sleeping in. They’d eat granola and Virgil would ramble on about this strange dream he had where he was trapped in a cereal box for hours on end. But as the two human tenants loomed above him, staring him down and locking him into place, he realized that he wouldn’t be waking up. This was real. This was real.

“It’s…” Patton stuttered, taking a step forward. “It’s… a tiny person.”

Logan nodded slowly. His wide eyes remained glued on Virgil. “I was right... I can’t believe I was right!” He suddenly grinned, grabbing Patton’s shoulder. “Do you know what this means?! This is a massive discovery—it could revolutionize the field of biology!”

“I—I’m sure it could,” Patton chuckled humourlessly, still staring downwards. The tiny person half-wrapped himself in the dishcloth, cowering against the table. It appeared to be a young man, likely in his mid-twenties. He wore a baggy violet patchwork jacket and a black scarf that hung loosely from his neck. “Can it… talk?”

Logan turned back to Virgil. “I’m not sure. Theoretically, it’s vocal cords should be too small to produce audible sound… but at this point, it might as well be possible. Its very existence is unlikely.”

“Okay, then… um…” Patton broke away from Logan, who started furiously writing notes on a nearby napkin. “H—hi,” Patton began, smiling awkwardly. “Can you understand me?” When the tiny person didn’t reply, Patton kept talking. Maybe he was just shy. “I’m sorry about that… I didn’t know you were in there.”

Virgil quivered at the giant face taking up most of his vision. He had to look away—he was too intimidated to look into those massive eyes. “I—I don’t...” Virgil started to whimper out a sentence before shutting himself up with a quiet grunt. Don’t be stupid! You can’t talk to humans—you know the rules. Idiot.

But it was too late. Patton’s eyebrows shot up at Virgil’s halfhearted reply. “You can talk!” He smiled widely, his face lighting up. “Okay, that makes this easier.”

“Fascinating,” Logan muttered, studying Virgil carefully. “This can’t be real… You shouldn’t be able to speak with vocal cords your size.” He set the note-scribbled napkin aside, leaning over Patton’s shoulder to see Virgil better. “Where did you come from? Are you human? Are there more of you?”

“I’d... I’d go easy with the questions, Logan,” Patton whispered. “I think he’s getting overwhelmed.”

Well, Patton wasn’t exactly wrong. Virgil was totally and thoroughly petrified. He tried to rise to his feet, but he was shaking so badly that he couldn't even kneel without falling onto his stomach. His breathing was uneven and sharp, like he was struggling for air. Virgil let out a strained sob, becoming increasingly frustrated with his inability to run away.

Logan’s mouth sealed shut. He recognized the signs of a panic attack before Patton did. “Patton, get him some water.” Lowering himself as to not seem intimidating, Logan quieted his voice to a whisper. He held his hands in front of himself as a gesture of goodwill. “Hey… it’s alright. It’s alright.”

The tiny person heaved again, his whole body convulsing rapidly. “Y—you—you—“

“Shh… I won’t touch you. But you need to breathe. Do you know any breathing exercises?”

“F—f—f…” Sneaking a glance up at Logan, Virgil gulped and looked away again. “F—four, seven, eight.”

“That’ll work. Come on, I’ll do it with you. Breathe. Four in…”

As the tiny man and Logan breathed in sync, Patton got to work fetching some water. A normal cup would surely be too big, and they didn’t have any shot glasses for the tiny man to use. Sighing, Patton relegated to removing the gap from the jug of milk and using it to hold the water. He rinsed it out and filled it generously, hoping it would be small enough.

When he turned back to the two, the tiny man had calmed down somewhat. He was still shaking, but he was at least breathing steadily. Logan kept counting in a pattern, praising the tiny person the whole time.

“There we go. Good job.” Logan smiled softly. The tiny man forced a grimace in reply.

“Here,” Patton mumbled, placing the cap near the small person. He saddened at the way Virgil’s whole upper body flinched. “It’s water. Drink what you can, okay, kiddo?”

Virgil took a second to nod. “O—okay.”

Drinking water had never seemed like such a momentous task before. The cap was too heavy to lift, especially with how weak Virgil was, so he had to scoop up the water and sip it from his cupped hands. It was demeaning, but it wasn’t the biggest problem—the whole time Virgil drank, Patton and Logan kept their huge eyes locked on Virgil, never for a second looking away. It wasn’t just awkward; it was terrifying. They were so huge, much bigger than they seemed from a distance.

A cough sounded, then someone spoke. “Logan.” At the sudden voice, Virgil stopped drinking and craned his neck up. “My name is Logan. This is my friend Patton.”

Patton crouched down a bit, resting his chin on the table uncomfortably close to Virgil. “What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Uh,” Virgil stammered, fiddling with his sleeves, “m—my name...”

Logan’s eyes widened. He had to force his voice to stay level and quiet as to not scare him into silence. “Yeah?”

“...M—my… my name is… Virgil.”

Patton and Logan exchanged a glance. “Virgil,” they repeated, making sure they pronounced it right.

“Well, Virgil,” Patton whispered, “it’s nice to meet you. Would you like something to eat?”

“Uh…” Virgil hesitated, rubbing at his forearm. Patton’s question was rather sudden, wasn’t it? He wiped away a few dried-up tear streaks before answering. “Wh—what kind of food?”

“Whatever you’d like, kiddo.” He picked up the nearby box and shook its contents. “How does cereal sound?”

Virgil cringed at the suggestion—he wasn’t keen on cereal after being nearly suffocated by it—but nodded as to not anger Patton.

Cereal it was, then. Patton began the arduous search for the smallest bowl he could find. Logan looked like he wanted to say something, but kept silent. Instead, he glanced between Patton and Virgil, keeping his hand locked against his own mouth.

Virgil watched Patton with a cautious gaze as the human trickled a few drops of milk atop the wheat crisps. Once Patton finished and slid the bowl towards the silent Virgil, Logan pulled him aside. “Pat, can I talk to you?”

Patton snuck a look at Virgil, who was mindlessly chewing on a damp piece of cereal, then nodded. They slipped into the nearby bathroom, not noticing the baffled expression on Virgil’s face. Did they just… leave him here by himself? They did realize he could escape, right? Humans couldn’t possibly be this stupid, could they?

Virgil seized the moment of isolation to get a better grasp of his surroundings. He was sitting squarely at the centre of the kitchen table. Aside from the cloth he was seated on, there was nothing else on the table with him. The chairs were also pushed in, meaning that Virgil could probably climb down them with little trouble. There was an escape tunnel behind the fridge, if Virgil remembered correctly. If he acted quickly, he could make it there before the humans came back.

Having decided on his next move, Virgil rose to stand, only to find his legs were still gelatinous and wobbly. He remained standing for exactly two seconds before crashing onto his side. His throat bubbled out a pained yelp, and he clutched the shoulder he landed on. Okay, maybe the humans weren’t stupid for leaving Virgil alone. Maybe they were just sadistic.

Virgil paused as another thought crossed his mind: even if he escaped from Logan and Patton, what would he do next? He had no food, no clothes, no tools, and he was all alone again. There was no way he’d survive for long, even if he got the chance to escape. Everything was pretty much hopeless at this point.

“Stop crying,” Virgil growled to himself. But he didn’t stop. The tears just kept coming, welling up in his eyes and careening downwards like a waterfall. Virgil curled into a ball and cursed himself over and over, helpless as the tears rolled silently down his face. “You’re so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

Wasn’t he absolutely, positively pathetic?

Part 6:

Virgil’s inner torment went unheard by the humans. Once the bathroom door closed, ensuring their privacy, Patton spoke first. “You noticed it too, right?”

“Yes,” Logan grumbled. “He’s too thin. And he’s very pale... I think he’s malnourished.”

“We have to do something, Logan. Can you help him?”

“I can try.” Logan grit his teeth, massaging his face for what must have been the fourth time that night. “He needs food and water. And warmer clothes. Do we have anything he can wear?”

“Maybe there are some old doll clothes in Roman’s room,” Patton said thoughtfully. “I’ll have to look around. You watch him while I check.”

Logan bit his lip nervously. “An examination could be in order… but I’d hate to scare him.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Patton replied sadly. He opened the door a crack and peered outside at Virgil, who was curled in on himself and mumbling incoherently. He grimaced at the disheartening sight and turned away. “Just be gentle. And don’t talk too loud.”

Logan nodded firmly. “Of course.”

It was decided, then. Patton opened the door and rushed upstairs while Logan quietly approached the table. Virgil’s face was puffy and stained with tear streaks, and he was still shaking like a leaf. The tiny man eyed Logan wearily, never taking his eyes off him for a moment.

“I need to perform a medical examination on you,” Logan explained. He sat down in the nearest chair, pulling himself closer to the table. Virgil’s eyes went wide as a giant hand approached him, spreading its fingers as it reached towards his quivering form.

“N—no!” Virgil cried, clutching his jacket closer to his chest. His breathing quickened once again as the panicking sensation resurfaced. “I—I—I’m not—“

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Logan whispered, his hand still drawing closer. “I just need to make sure you’re uninjured.”

Virgil let out a strained and angry whine. “Don’t touch me!” he hollered, fists clenched. Logan frowned at the fearful reaction but didn’t retract his hand. Instead, with as much grace and gentleness as he could muster, he latched his index finger and thumb firmly around Virgil’s torso. The tiny man yelped as the hand hoisted him off solid ground, dangling above the tabletop for a moment before he was finally plopped into Logan’s other hand.

As soon as it set him in Logan’s palm, Virgil dropped to his hands and knees and scrambled back in the table's direction. Logan gasped and yanked him back by the hood of his jacket, holding him firmly in his palm. “Be careful!” Logan snapped. He moved his thumb over Virgil’s chest, pinning him down. With his free hand, he began manipulating Virgil’s writhing and trembling form, investigating each limb with care while gripping them too tightly for Virgil to escape. He twisted the borrower’s arms around, lifted his legs, and flipped his body between his front and back.

Logan did his best to search the minuscule body for signs of injury or illness, but it was hard to ignore the sobs coming from the trembling man in his hands. Virgil stopped fighting against the massive fingers once he’d run out of breath, which wasn’t saying much; he barely had any breath left in him. Logan continued to twist him around, prod him, and fiddle with his clothes. He paused his work every few moments to write something down on his napkin.

This went on for several minutes. During that time, Virgil got ahold of himself, although he was still terrified. “This won’t take much longer,” Logan finally muttered, breaking the thick and tense silence. “So… how long have you been living here?”

Virgil flinched as a giant finger lifted the back of his shirt up. Geez, that was cold! “U—um… I—I’m not.”

The shirt fell back into place. Virgil hugged himself closely as Logan wrote something down. “That hook I found belongs to you, doesn’t it? And those hidden doorways in the kitchen… you must have created those.”

Oh... right. Virgil forgot that Logan knew about him before being found in the pantry. He meekly nodded, hoping that telling the truth would leave him better off than lying would.

“I don’t understand how anyone could survive at your size. Do you get cold easily? Can you see well?”

“Uh… yes to both?”

“Fascinating. And what about your diet? How much do you have to eat to sustain yourself?”

Virgil let out an exasperated noise. “I don’t know! Twice a day usually gets me by, I guess?!”

“What sorts of things do you eat? Do you have allergies?”

“Can you stop with the questions?” Virgil cried, already becoming frustrated with Logan. Being interrogated was not fun, let alone when a human was doing it. "I can't tell you anything! I shouldn't even be here!"

"Why not?"

"It's..." Virgil grimaced. "...It's the rules. That's all I can say."

“But there’s so much I have to know. How long have you been small for?”

“I don't know, how long have you been annoying for?” Virgil retorted cheekily.

“Were you hit by a shrink ray? Like in those fiction movies? I was sure that they were scientifically impossible to create, but perhaps it's not too farfetched.”

Virgil let out a sharp hiss instead of answering the question. Logan reeled back, his expression unreadable. “I’m sorry… Did you just hiss at me?”

“I do that when I reach my limit with stupid questions.”

With a single eyebrow raised, Logan continued. “I just have a few more.”

“I don’t care.”

“How tall are you?"

"Not tall enough."

"Okay... Well, what about reproduction? Do you have—"

"Ew. No, hard pass."

Logan frowned. This wasn't going anywhere, was it? "Fine. Are you a social creature? Do you live alone?”

Wrong thing to say.

“Would you just shut up?!” Virgil screamed, pounding his fists on Logan’s hand as hard as he could. “Just shut up already!” Before he realized it, hot tears began rolling down his cheeks again. “Just... stop…”

The newfound silence felt like molasses. Logan’s mouth seemed to glue itself shut, but his eyes darted between Virgil and his notes. The human had plenty to ask, to be sure, but for some reason refused to say anything more.

Virgil’s anger gave way to numbness. He’d really done it this time, huh? Most borrowers weren’t dumb enough to lose their temper at a human being. And now he was crying again.

The silence carried on for what felt like hours, but it was eventually broken by Logan. “I’m sorry.”

“...What?”

“I’m sorry,” Logan sighed, having the decency to avoid eye contact. “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.”

Well, this was interesting. A human apologizing to a borrower? Has this ever happened before? “Um…” Virgil cleared his throat and rubbed his arm. “It’s… whatever.”

“I hope you can forgive me for being so interrogative. Satisfying my curiosity should not have come at the cost of your mental stability.” Logan muttered something under his breath. He then turned to Virgil, his eyebrows furrowed. “I’ll stop with the questions now.”

Virgil was in awe. He’d screamed at Logan, called him annoying, and started crying like a child, but Logan wasn’t angry. He was actually very nice, despite his initial misgivings. Well, now Virgil simply had to answer the questions then, didn’t he? After the human was polite and said sorry and stuff. “I…” Virgil coughed, forcing the words out of his mouth. “I used to live with someone. But not anymore.”

“Oh.” Logan frowned, lifting Virgil closer to his face. The human’s features were tinged with a sort of concern; Logan slowly began to understand why the question set Virgil off. So he paused, choosing his words wisely. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Virgil opened his mouth to say ‘no’ but found himself forced into silence. Honestly? He wasn’t sure how to answer that. On one hand, Virgil didn’t even want to think about how his only friend abandoned him in a cereal box, leaving him in the clutches of a pair of humans. But on the other hand, Virgil wanted nothing more than to just blabber on and on about how he was feeling. Borrowers didn’t have therapists, and Deceit was never a terribly good listener. It’d be all to easy to overshare, to reveal all the borrower secrets in his moment of weakness. But... maybe if he was careful... he could talk without giving away specifics. A vent would do him good, anyhow.

Virgil decided to take the plunge.

“I trusted him,” he grumbled before he could think to stop himself. “We were supposed to work together. I helped him when he had nowhere to go. And what does he do to thank me?! He traps me in a cereal box and steals everything I own!” Virgil pounded his fists, growing more and more heated by the second. “I mean, I get it. We weren’t exactly friends. But we had a deal, and he… he just…”

Virgil’s words screeched to a halt, and he found himself unable to look at Logan without his gaze flickering back to the ground. The anger had died down, leaving the chill of fear and the hollowness of sorrow behind.

“I thought… I thought we were in this together. But he took everything from me. I have no food, no clothes, and… and I’m alone again.” Virgil snorted, crossing his arms. “I never should have trusted him. I was better off by myself.”

Logan said nothing at first, neither his hand nor his face moving an inch. Virgil slipped his hood over his face, hiding his embarrassed expression. Great, now he thinks you’re a crybaby too. Some borrower you are.

They remained stagnant in awkward silence for a few more minutes. But then, gradually, the hand holding Virgil began to shift around. A thumb started stroking his side with surprising gentleness, and the remaining fingers curled inwards towards Virgil, forming a protective barrier.

“I should say this upfront,” Logan said suddenly, startling Virgil out of his confusion. “I’m not good at comforting people. That’s Patton’s forte. That being said, I’m… very sorry that happened to you.” He pressed his lips together, and his eyes narrowed. “I can’t imagine someone violating your trust like that.”

Virgil laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah, he’s a filthy snake. I hate him.”

“Indeed.” Logan fell silent. “...You said he took your food and belongings?”

“...Yeah?”

“I see." A beat passed before Logan continued. “Well, if you happen to be in a position where you are unable to live comfortably, might I suggest staying here for a while? With Patton and I?”

Virgil’s breath hitched. “Stay with you?”

“You don’t have to,” Logan added quickly to cover his flustered demeanour. “I simply thought… if you have nothing to your name, we could help you resupply. And if you wish for company, we could provide that too. I’d hate for you to be alone and so ill-prepared for the winter.”

Virgil tried with all his might to wrap his head around what was happening. A human, the one thing he’d been told to avoid for his whole life, just offered him a place to stay. This had to be a trick, right? There was no way this was real.

“...So what’s the catch?”

A chuckle sounded. The human stroked his chin in mock-thought. “I do have a few caveats, I suppose. You’d have to join us for movie nights, as well as accept all Christmas presents given to you.” Logan snapped his fingers. “Oh! You’d also have to help bake cookies. Patton would appreciate the help.”

Virgil scoffed. “This is a scam.”

“I assure you, it is not.”

“So what do you get out of it?” Virgil craned his neck upwards, staring at the underside of Logan’s chin. “What’s in this for you?”

Logan thought for a moment, staring into space. “Nothing much,” he settled on saying. “The company of a fascinating human being would be sufficient.” Logan tightened his embrace on Virgil, holding him firmly against his chest. “You stay here, and in exchange, Patton and I support you however we can. That seems like a fair trade, no?”

“Well... first of all, borrowers aren’t human.”

Borrower. Logan filed that word away in the back of his mind. He’d ask Virgil about it later.

“Second, that’s not a deal I can make. How do I know you won’t keep me in a jar or something?”

“Well, I haven’t yet, have I?” Logan asked. “If I truly wished to harm you, I would have done so by now.”

Virgil grit his teeth. “Yeah, cause you don’t have to. I can barely move. No point in trapping me if I can’t run away.”

Logan opened his mouth to retort but found himself unable to come up with a sufficient reply. “I suppose… you’ll just have to trust me.”

Virgil was tempted to holler with laughter. Instead, he bit his tongue and looked away. There was still one thing plaguing his mind—would Logan get mad if he asked?

“...The camera footage.”

“...What?”

“You recorded me,” Virgil muttered quietly, tugging at his sleeves. “Delete the video.”

Logan was about to ask why but thought better of it. “Would that make you feel better?” A nod. “Very well. I’ll see to deleting it right away.”

Virgil didn’t say anything else. As far as he knew, Logan could be lying about deleting the video to gain his trust. There’s no way a human would comply that easily.

“So…” Logan looked down at the borrower in his hands. He loomed menacingly, though not on purpose, causing Virgil to flinch away. “Do we have a deal, then?”

“It’s not much of a deal,” Virgil sighed. He shifted a bit, still not used to the feeling of being held by such a giant creature. “Fine. Just... n—no cages or anything. Please?”

“No cages. Understood.” Logan’s other hand hovered upwards. A single index finger was left hanging before Virgil. “Shake on it?”

Virgil froze, hesitant, before tentatively reading out to grab Logan’s finger. He shook it firmly, or at least he tried to. The finger was just so heavy that he couldn’t budge it much. Logan nodded, satisfied, and Virgil retreated to the centre of the palm. “So… now what?”

Right on cue, Logan let out a hearty yawn. “Perhaps a nap is in order. I understand you’ve been awake all night. Resting would be beneficial.”

“A nap?” Shrugging, Virgil nodded. “Okay, but how is that gonna—whoa whoa WHOA!!” Virgil lunged backwards and latched the thumb beside him with a death grip, gasping deeply as Logan stood to his full height. The distant kitchen floor shrunk beneath him. “P—put me down!”

“In a moment.” Logan rubbed his eyes with his free hand as he stumbled into the next room. Virgil, through his dizziness and vertigo, immediately recognized it as the living room. The TV was on—although it was muted—and an unfolded blanket was crumpled on the carpet. Logan silently plucked the blanket off the ground and sat on the nearby sofa, huffing contentedly as he stretched his body out.

Virgil was finally given the sweet release of solid ground… sort of. Logan gently set him on his chest. Virgil moved to sit up but was pushed into a lying position by Logan’s finger. “I—” Virgil groaned as he tried to sit up, but was pushed onto his back a second time. “I—I didn’t think you were gonna sleep with me.”

“I’ve been up all night. I need to rest too.” He moved the blanket so it covered his body, then set the very edge of the blanket over Virgil. “Goodnight, Virgil.”

Virgil chuckled nervously, a bit annoyed and shaken up but still amused. He pulled the blanket upwards, trying to ignore the rhythmic pulsing of Logan’s heart right below him. God, that was weird. “Alright. Goodnight, I guess.”

Part 7:

Logan and Virgil slept very soundly that night. Much later, a few hours before the sun would begin to peek over the horizon, Patton finally rushed back down with a small plastic bin in his arms. “Logan! I found it! I don’t know if they’ll fit, but maybe I can… uh…”

Patton’s words died on his tongue at the sight before him. Logan, with his arm dangling off the edge of the sofa, was snoring quietly. Virgil was curled up in the nook of his neck, completely motionless. They must have been asleep for a while, Patton realized. He glanced at the bin in his arms, then back at the sleeping pair, and let out a sigh. A smile made its way to his lips as he carefully set the box down near the couch.

“Logan,” he whispered, tapping the sleeping man’s shoulder. Logan murmured, stirring awake. Patton grinned at the sight. “Go to bed. Don’t sleep on the couch.”

Logan exhaled deeply and moved his hand, holding Virgil securely to his chest as he rose to a seated position. “Okay,” he sighed, standing slowly as to not wake up Virgil. Luckily, the borrower didn’t budge. “Patton, about those traps I set…”

“I’ll put them away,” Patton whispered. “Just go sleep, kiddo… I’ll take care of it.”

Logan smiled sleepily. “Thank you, Patton.”

“Go on.” Patton gently shoved Logan towards the direction of the stairs. “Get some sleep, alright?”

Moving carefully, Logan made his way upstairs, cradling Virgil in one hand and cupping him with the other. Logan wasn’t really sure how this was going to work. Where could Virgil sleep? Surely not on the bed—he’d be crushed if Logan rolled over. A night table with a blanket could suffice, but it would no doubt be very uncomfortable. And he could easily fall off sometime during the night.

Logan glanced up as he reached the top of the stairs. His eyes landed on the glittery ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign that dangled from a dusty, scarcely used doorknob. The guest room.

Neither Logan nor Patton set foot the third bedroom often. It used to belong to a mutual friend, one they’d met while in their first year of college. But that friend had long moved away to an art school in a different state. Now the room was more of a storage room than an actual residence.

Logan pushed the door ajar and stuck his head inside. The room was a total disaster, as per usual. Laundry was scattered everywhere, pencils and books were strewn about haphazardly, and the closet’s contents were spilling onto the floor. How anyone lived in these conditions, Logan would never know.

Then, by some stroke of luck, Logan’s eye managed to catch a splotch of blue from within the depths of the closet. The man tiptoed inside as if Roman would appear out of the blue and scold Logan for intruding. Logan shook the thought away as he reached his free hand into the closet, quietly dragging out a large blue bin. The lid popped off with minimal effort, leaving a wide assortment of toys exposed for Logan to sift through. He dipped his hand into the mess of action figures and model cars, feeling around until his fingers grasped a familiar object. “Perfect,” Logan whispered, fishing the object out.

It was one of the pieces to Roman’s old dollhouse—a small bed, just the right size for a borrower. The rest of the furniture set was probably somewhere in that bin, but Logan couldn’t bring himself to find all the pieces. It would take him hours. As he stood to leave, Logan briefly considered if doll furniture would demean Virgil, but the practicality of it outweighed Logan’s concerns. He put the bin of toys away with as much care as he could muster before meandering back to his room.

The surface beneath Virgil shifted and swayed like a boat. He woke up with a start, instinctively grasping onto the nearest object. Coincidently, that object happened to be a thumb. Virgil was in someone’s hands.

“H—hey!” he yelped, trying not to peer over the edge of the palm. “What the hell?!”

The sudden shout caused Logan to flinch. He glanced down at Virgil with a frown. Virgil couldn’t even see Logan’s whole face with the way it loomed overhead. “You’re awake,” he commented dryly.

Virgil hid his erratic breathing behind a scoff. “Y—yeah, I’m awake. Could you, like… put me down? Please?”

“Of course. Just a moment.” Logan took one last look around the room before finally placing Virgil on Logan’s desk. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s whatever,” Virgil muttered, clutching his clothes tightly. He steeled himself enough to look at Logan fully but found himself backpedalling as a giant hand lowered itself towards Virgil.

“Here you are,” Logan whispered, placing something onto the table next to Virgil. “Will this suffice for tonight?”

Virgil’s mouth hung open as a small bed, about the size of Logan’s hand, slid onto the desk before him. It was a perfect scale replica of a human’s bed, complete with blankets, a pillow, and a small toy bear. Virgil reached out to touch the bear, surprised to feel plush instead of hard plastic. His hand ran down along the blanket, feeling the intricate pattern weaved into it. And the pillow… Virgil couldn’t help himself. He grasped the pillow tightly and buried his face into it, exhaling in contentment. He’d never had a real pillow before. “Where did you get this?”

“Our old roommate keeps his collection of toys in the spare room. I found that bed with his old dollhouse set.”

“An old dollhouse set,” Virgil repeated, laughing curtly at the notion. This bed was nothing more than a toy. The borrower carefully clambered onto the tiny mattress, shocked at how soft and plushy it was. “It’s pretty comfy for a doll bed. Man, humans have the coolest stuff.”

As Virgil busied himself with bundling the blankets onto himself, Logan’s expression suddenly changed. His face softened, and his eyes didn’t seem so piercing anymore. He looked… sad. “Virgil,” he began, slowly seating himself on his bed, “have you ever owned a bed?”

“Uh… not really, no.” Virgil pulled the blankets up and over his legs. “I mostly used fabric scraps and cotton balls. Whatever I could get my hands on.” Logan failed to notice Virgil gripping the blankets so tightly that his fists were turning white. “...One time, me and Deceit managed to find an old hat in the alleyway. He kinda claimed it as a bed for himself, and I slept in it whenever he was gone. It was the closest we had to an actual bed.”

Virgil shifted uncomfortably, looking away from Logan’s attentive gaze. “I still can’t believe he’s gone.”

“I... I wish I knew what to say,” Logan stammered with a grimace. “I can’t imagine this is an easy change for you.”

“Not really, no.” The borrower muttered, hiding his face under the blankets. The blankets were so warm. Virgil found himself struggling to keep his eyes open. “But I’m okay now.”

Logan hummed. He looked unconvinced. “You don’t mean that.” It wasn’t a question, either. Judging by the bags under his eyes and the redness of his face, Logan could safely deduce that Virgil was, in fact, not okay in the slightest.

A laugh bubbled from Virgil’s sore throat. “Yeah, not really.” Virgil yawned, snuggling further into the pillow. It did a fantastic job of hiding the tears building behind his eyes. “But... I’m better.”

Logan hummed a second time, not quite satisfied with that answer. “I suppose that’s a more honest statement.” He moved to flick the lights off before pausing and turning back to Virgil. “Will you be alright sleeping there? I can move you elsewhere if you wish.”

“No, I’m good.”

Logan nodded and moved away. Darkness flooded the room; Virgil heard the sounds of Logan fumbling back towards his bed. The blankets were shuffled around as the human settled onto the mattress. “You are to wake me up if you need anything. Do we have a deal?”

“Meh.”

“I’m serious, Virgil.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll wake you up or whatever.” Under his breath, he muttered something else, quietly enough that Logan almost missed it. “I hope hamster cages are comfy.”

Logan’s mouth was moving before he realized he wasn’t supposed to hear that last part. “I won’t put you in a cage, Virgil. I plan on keeping my promise.”

At first, Virgil didn’t reply. But then, a quiet voice spoke up. “How would I know that?” The borrower sniffled a bit. “I—I want to believe you're good, but I can’t afford to trust the wrong person again.” He paused to sob. “I just... can’t.”

“Virgil…” Logan sighed, straining his eyes to see Virgil in the darkness.

Virgil continued to ramble, choking back more sobs. “I want to trust you. I want to believe you. But I don’t wanna get hurt again.”

Logan dejected at that, silent for a moment, before standing up suddenly and shuffling across the room. Virgil eyed him cautiously, afraid of what the human was planning. But Logan simply sat down at his desk and opened his laptop, clicking his mouse a few times. Virgil couldn’t see what he was doing until the screen was suddenly rotated towards him.

Logan gestured to the screen. “The video has been deleted. There’s no trace of you in my files.”

Wait, he... he actually did it? That was unexpected. Virgil felt the tension in his body suddenly unwind at those words. “Oh. Uh… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Logan found his hand snaking its way towards Virgil, stroking the borrower’s side with a gentle brush of fingers. Virgil gasped in fright at first, but settled back down when he wasn’t being prodded or grabbed. “I know it must be difficult to trust me, especially after all you’ve been through tonight. But that’s okay. I don’t expect you to trust me right away—that would be foolish of me.”

Virgil sniffed again. “You’re not mad?”

Logan smiled, setting the laptop aside. “Of course not.”

That seemed to put Virgil at ease. His small body began to unfurl, slowly but surely. The sobbing continued quietly. “...Thanks, Logan.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Logan continued to soothe him, even though Virgil had gone quiet a few minutes ago. After a while longer, Logan finally noticed that Virgil fell asleep. The steady, shallow breathing could barely be heard from such a tiny throat. The human smiled wearily and retracted his hand. It was time for him to get to bed, too.

Logan allowed himself a few moments of peace once he was properly bundled within the blankets. Aside from the distant sounds of Patton downstairs and the strips of sunlight leaking through the closed blinds, the entire room was frozen in space and time. These moments of uninterrupted silence were usually welcome, allowing Logan to think without distractions. But now, the silence was a curse. The rampant thoughts swirling through his mind rose to a deafening roar. Logan pulled his pillow over his ears with a groan.

The man peeked out from beneath the pillowcase. Virgil was still asleep, tucked into a ball beneath the toy fabrics. Their meeting was such an unlikely occurrence that Logan had to wonder if he was seeing things. But he'd only been awake for about 25 hours straight; hallucinations due to lack of sleep didn't start until at least 30 or 40 hours of staying awake. Virgil was real, as difficult as it was to believe.

Perhaps he should skip class today.

Now that Virgil was asleep and calm—and far less likely to panic in his presence—it was tempting for Logan to take notes. He threw a sideways glance towards his notebook, sprawled open upon his desk by the laptop. The pages fluttered against the hot air coming from the nearby vent, taunting Logan incessantly. It couldn't hurt to just write some basic observations, would it? Things like height, behaviours he'd noticed earlier, maybe a quick sketch if he had time...

...But no. Virgil wouldn't appreciate his privacy being violated like that. The existence of these so-called borrowers seemed to be a secret Virgil was dead set on keeping, and for good reason. Logan wanted to know as much as he could about these mysterious miniature humanoids, but he also wanted Virgil to feel safe in his home. That’s why he offered Virgil a place to stay, after all.

Logan sighed; he'd have to put his curiosity on the shelf for now. His priority had to lie with Virgil's wellbeing. That was the deal. And Logan intended to keep his end of the deal, no matter what.

With that thought, he finally fell asleep.

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noonawriter · 4 years

Text

Delicious Rendezvous Chapter 3

WORD COUNT: 4151

WARNINGS: cursing, an attack of sorts (no bloodshed), thinly veiled protectiveness

DELICIOUS RENDEZVOUS

Chapter 3

“There,” Heechul told you, panting. “It is done.” He pulled away to lay beside you. For him having a cold touch, you still immediately missed what warmth he brought. The sensation of the spell spreading the rest of the way through you was half pins and needles, half a deep sort of pleasure that defied explanation or words, running up your spine. He turned on his side, one elbow bent, chin resting on his head. “I’m going to be quite busy - frankly, I’ve already taken a lot of time out of my day for you.”

His nonchalance came as a surprise after the intimacy he’d just shown. “You could be nice for one second,” you mumbled, the afterglow quickly fading, but he was apparently determined to ignore any and all feelings, including yours. You shook your head to hide your face and the look of disappointment.

“I’ll figure out a training schedule for you tomorrow. For now, go make friends and get some food. Order what you like.” He smiled as though he’d handed you the keys to the club. “I’ll let them know to expect you.” Heechul continued to make himself presentable when he added, “I didn’t take much blood, but you still need to replenish what was lost. Let Shindong know what you want at the bar and he’ll relay it from there.”

“...Wait, huh?”

Heechul let out a put-upon sigh. How were you supposed to learn anything from him, let alone stick around for the next three months? Was he really going to be able to help you? You rolled your eyes.

“Look, I thought you were pretty good at talking to strangers, but maybe I was wrong.” He huffed out a little almost-laugh through his nose. “Just start with,” he gestures with his chin towards the door, “Ryeowook’s little boyfriend, the kid at the piano. He should be wrapping up soon. He loves to eat and he’s a blank, so you aren’t in any danger from him and you won’t be alone for now.”

Your eyes widened, “Am I in danger from anyone else?”

Heechul raised his eyebrows once. “That depends on you, doesn’t it.” His grin is wide and knowing, one eyebrow cocked up. While you gaped as such an unhelpful response, he levitated himself to standing, summoned his pants and slipped his lean legs back into them. Though you couldn’t help but watch the movement of muscles beneath the skin for a moment, you were determined to not make a habit of it, forcing your eyes away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Nice to meet you!” Henry shook your hand enthusiastically, already a weird start. He didn’t look old enough to be in a bar in the first place, which the rosy tint perpetually blooming on his pale cheeks didn’t help. After the ritual, though, you probably didn’t look any better, so it was nice of him to not comment on that.

“Um, I was told Ryeowook-”

“Oh, yeah! He got me this job.” He looked over in the direction of the stage and back, though not before you caught the gleam in his eye, a particular one that left you aching with longing. Adoration couldn’t be written more plainly on his face. “It works out really well, you know? I didn’t actually know what I was going to do with my degree.”

“That’s really good.” You feigned politeness just long enough to ask the question you really wanted the answer to, leaning forward to speak more quietly. “How is it here really, though? Do they treat you well?”

“Yeah, everyone’s so nice here!” He beamed. “When Ryeowookie is busy,” the gleam of affection cropped up faintly again before fading, “Donghae makes sure I get lots to eat. My visa got processed so much faster here than my school one, and I got direct deposit since my first check. It’s great!” With a cute tilt of his head, he added, “I’m glad no one minds that I don’t really drink. I get all itchy. But Heechul’s never had a problem with it.” Sticking his hands into his pockets, he frowned. “To be honest, the only thing I’m worried about is that Ryeowook never eats breakfast. But everyone’s different, right?” He concluded his rambling with an easy, friendly smile, shrugging his shoulders, then rocking on his heels.

“...Right.” In your mind's eye, you could see clearly what Ryeowook would look like with his wings and claws out. And that the butler was actually over by the entrance to the club, his shoulders subtly widening and narrowing over and over again, his hair growing longer and then shorter. You realize what wasn't said. That made you mad as hell! Oh my god, you thought, this kid doesn’t know anything, does he. Heechul is a bastard.

Too bad you still needed his help.

“Oh yeah, you just got here, so you don’t know where anything is, huh.” Henry’s words drew your attention back to him and away from your thoughts of Heechul. “Come on, let me show you the break room.”

As the two of you made your way past the bar, Shindong came in from the back, carrying a nondescript box. He pointed at you, then immediately, his hair shot up and back as if by a gust of wind. His confused expression was so comically exaggerated that you couldn't help but laugh.

He patted it back down into place, looking confounded, then went on his way as if nothing happened without so much as a wave.

“He’s a weird one.”

Henry held his finger up to his lips, eyes that told you to be quiet. “Don’t let him hear you say that.” The rosy-cheeked man looked around, as though he was worried Shindong was watching at that very moment. He stepped closer. “Man is insufferable, at times. Even moreso if he likes you. At least you got some form of interaction from him being it's only your first day here. Took me a week to get anything out of him.”

All you could manage was a quiet “hmm”. Henry resorted back to indifference as he made sure you were following him as he continued to guide you to the much-needed food. Something about Shindong was intimidating, despite the brief comedy routine, so you decided to come back to the issue of ordering food a little later, when you’d had a chance to gather some courage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once he’d taken a bite off the corner of one sandwich, Henry exclaimed, “Alriiiiight! He remembered to salt them more this time like I asked.” Handing out the egg sandwiches, cut in two halves to form neat triangles, he added, “You’d think it wouldn’t need it when the bread has garlic butter on it, but there’s a lot of egg, you know?” One was placed in front of Donghae, and another in front of you.

“Oh, uh, thanks.” This only left you more determined to put off figuring out Heechul’s food. The kitchen you’d passed on the way was loud and looked extremely busy, so it just felt weird to add to that. And you hadn’t seen a menu anywhere, either...

“No problem! Ryeowook always makes extra anyway. I think he gets worried when our schedules don’t line up to eat together.”

Both men sharing the small round table with you stuffed practically a whole triangle in their mouths at once. You couldn’t help but giggle. “Oh, is he going to be on stage for a while?” You asked, trying to keep the conversation going. It was a fair trade - garlic butter was such a simple indulgence, yet oh so worthwhile. Had you missing home, all of a sudden... Missing it so bad that you couldn't bear to think about it.

The conversation turned out to be a welcome interruption.

“Nope,” Henry said, only half succeeding at covering his mouth. “That part's done for today. He’s got backstage appointments to get to.”

“...Technical work? I didn’t know he did both.”

He only stared at you for a moment. “No,” he said slowly, “backstage work.” Left utterly confused, you looked back and forth between them until Donghae’s lascivious smirk got the meaning across.

It slowly dawned on you that it was a euphemism, not to mention what was going on behind all those closed doors. “Oh.” Your eyes widened so much they nearly fell out of your head, and you had to force your mouth closed, because you were something like a guest here and it’s not polite, right? What if it seemed insulting or condescending, the longer you looked scandalized? You could feel your cheeks heat further at that thought, even if that had seemed impossible with how they’d burned immediately after Donghae’s hint got through. “Oh! Right. I see.” Well, you’d really rather not, but it appeared the rumors were true after all. Staring at the plastic container was the closest you could get to meeting anyone’s eyes for a little while after that kind of revelation. “That doesn’t bother you?”

But Henry only shrugged. “Nope.” He offered no details whatsoever. That was that; he and Donghae proceeded to bicker over who had to eat the carrot sticks hiding underneath the stack of sandwiches. (Donghae insisted that demons don’t eat carrots, which Henry reluctantly accepted, though not without a heaping spoonful of skepticism.)

The three of you chatted amiably for a few minutes between eating. That calmed you down enough to see about asking for a menu after all, making your way through the same corridor from earlier, the one with the framed drawings of urban wildlife with inspirational slogans under each one. You were pretty sure the kitchen was back this way-

Whatever just took you off your feet meant business. Your eyes opened to find the ceiling above you and the cool marble tile beneath your back. You sucked a deep breath in all while moving your hands and feet to make sure everything still worked correctly. What drew you out of your self-inspection was the groaning coming from a few feet away. The strange yet beautiful man from earlier was bent over with his hands braced on his knees. He looked wobbly, maybe just as hurt as you were.

Laying back and being still just made more sense at that moment. You closed your eyes as the back of your head met the ground

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He sensed the spell and honed in on it to take him there.

Of course, he’d already been attuned to security alerts for defensive spells. From his alcove, Heechul had watched as his apprentice stumbled back and fell, at the same time that the reflective force flung Sungmin just as far back. Luckily, the incubus had reflexively done one of those martial arts rolls, but now leaned heavily against the hallway wall where he was sitting slumped against it, his eyes glazed, one small hand pressed to his own cheek and temple.

While Henry ran over to him, Heechul shot a faint blue spark from his fingertips.

“You know being teleported makes me dizzy,” Jongwoon grumbled at Heechul in the next instant, but quickly softened when he spotted his patient. Dropping onto one knee next to her, resting his forearm on the other, he leaned forward the slightest bit. “Hey there. Can you tell me what’s wrong?” He asked in a soft, husky voice.

“M’dizzy,” she mumbled, “and I fell.”

Jongwoon turned to the vampire, already back to looking annoyed. “Did you set your shield to let healing through?”

“Of course I did,” Heechul scoffed.

“Then open up pain relief as well.”

Feeling a bit sheepish when he realized that that type was indeed still blocked, Heechul did just that, drawing a quick symbol on his palm with his fingertip. Admittedly, he hadn’t cast this sort of protection in quite a long time, and the last time... That wasn’t sexual in the least. So he’d asked Shindong to set up tests for it, making sure his friend wouldn’t tell him when or how. It was a mercy that he didn’t have to specify to not hurt her; the risk was too great, and the very thought stabbed fear through his heart.

An invisible anodyne cloud sprung up around Jongwoon, a sort of magic dandelion the doctor himself had developed. Caught in its radius, the ever-present ache in Heechul’s wrist dialed down to a faint hum.

The pained grooves marring her forehead eased at once, too.

She was in good hands. Heechul knew this, knew it with the knowledge of many decades, so he turned to check on Sungmin, but... It was more difficult to do so than he’d imagined. No matter how much he tried to make his eyes focus forward, he itched to do otherwise.

Worriedly looking back over at her, Heechul nonetheless made himself turn away once more to attend to Sungmin, where Henry was already murmuring to him while pressing the back of his hand to the incubus’ forehead. Logically, Heechul knew Sungmin must've gotten the brunt of it, but-

That was all he’d allow himself. He shook himself back into action. Heechul motioned Henry away with a small gesture of his head. The young, bright eyed man wanted to stick around and help, but Heechul’s eyes insisted, mouthing ‘thank you’. Henry, ever shocked by the silent but kind motion, nonetheless complied. He turned his sights back to the scene he’d turned away from. "You did a great job, Sungmin. We got the test data we needed." Sungmin nodded gingerly, only grimacing. "Thank you for helping again. Donghae should be back near the bar by now, or soon, that'll be kicking up some lust. Go soak that up until your head settles, then lie down for at least five minutes, alright? I'll send the doctor to check you over when he's done here."

"Yes, boss," Sungmin said, slowly standing up, one hand on a nearby wall the whole way up. Heechul lent his arm for support, only remembering to call out when Sungmin had made it a couple of feet away on his own, "And drink some water!" Sungmin merely threw up a thumbs up over his shoulder as he cautiously walked away.

Setting that aside, he hurried over to her. To his apprentice. That's all, he told himself. Just someone who needs my help. The shield held beautifully, though nothing could beat real world experience to be sure. Since every scan and both tests came up well...

Mostly well, he realized, watching Jongwoon shine a small light into her eyes, then asking her to follow his finger. Fuck, the stun shouldn’t have gotten through that strongly. That meant there were cracks, and right now... He didn’t know how to fix those.

There were no shortcuts. He couldn’t help but get close enough to squeeze her hand, needing to touch her even if only fleetingly, to feel that she’s alright, then immediately left to do a field reset on the room he’d set aside to start her training. She would need so much more than just this. No telling how soon she’d have to be able to protect herself.

Not for the first time, Heechul lamented that he couldn’t be in two places at once.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hardly a minute or two later, belly full and mildly nauseous after whatever that stunt was, you felt a caress brush against the confines of your mind. It drew you in, past this door, that way down the hall, into a quiet carpeted room that contained only Heechul. His trademark smirk sat easy across his mouth.

“So you’ve properly met at least one of my kids now.”

“I did,” you said tartly, recalling what you’d realized, “and-”

“Hold on.” Holding one hand up, he stopped you with merely two words; you hated that you were going along with it. “If you’re looking to chew me out some more, save it for another time. Training requires dedication and concentration.”

“...Fine. But it’s only a delay.”

“Good enough,” he said, rolling his head side to side. “So, he’s a sweet kid, right?”

“Henry? Yeah...”

With that admission, Heechul’s smile turned genial. “Good. You have some basic sense.”

“Oh, so you get to insult me during training? What’s wrong, you can dish it out but you can’t take it?”

Though he rolled his eyes, his smile grew wider, too. “Some fires are unquenchable. We’ll work it out as we go. Now. Follow me. Deep breath in, then let it out slowly.”

Reluctantly, you did as he said, putting all other concerns into a box and setting it aside in your mind’s eye. “Okay, now what?”

He raised one eyebrow. “You really will have to learn some patience. Not an insult, darling!” He added with a laugh. “A simple fact required to progress.”

“Hmph.” You crossed your arms. Realizing how petulant that looked, though, you forced yourself to let them hang loose at your side instead. “I suppose. If you learn some manners.”

“Fair’s fair,” he answered with a shrug. “Now, back to the kid. Only pull up the image of him if it helps you; the essential part is whatever feeling of connection you can find. This works the same way an address on a building does.” He blinked slowly, tilting his head back, then forward again. “You feel it?”

The thread may have been thin, but you were able to strengthen it by kind of... latching onto Heechul’s connection as well. Were you supposed to do that? Who knows, but it felt like it was working. “Yes,” you answered distantly, almost having forgotten that you were asked a question at all.

“Good. Now imbue it with your magic.”

For some reason, this step scared you. Was it safe? Would it hurt anything? What if once you did it, that little bit was gone for good...

“You’re panicking.” But you weren’t- Oh, Heechul was right. Your breathing had gotten heavier, shallower, too quick. Before you’d noticed, he stepped closer, one fingertip tilting your chin up. “What is it?”

“I don’t wanna let it go!” You blurted out. Immediately, Heechul’s hand smoothed over your hair.

“It’s alright,” he said more gently than you’d thought possible of him. “You’ve done it before, and it’s always filled back up. You just didn’t know you were doing it.” But he stepped back, screwing up the corner of his mouth, and that also frightened you. You wanted his reassurance back. “This will be the only exercise for today. We’ll start you on foundational material next time.”

“Did I mess it up?” You croaked.

“No, everything’s alright,” he assured you, still in that too-gentle voice. “Let’s just try one more time, okay? The well will refill. You’re just taking a drop from it. Deep breaths. Two, three, four. There we go.”

Slowly, the whole thing feeling embarrassingly elementary, you made your way back to being calm and levelheaded. “Okay, I did it.”

“You found it? Good, well done. We’ll continue tomorrow.” Before you, far too close, Heechul visibly swallowed, then pressed his face to your neck for a long moment, taking a deep breath and leaving you feeling immensely calmer, strangely enough. When he wrenched himself away, his eyes held a faint tint of red, something gleaming in his mouth as well. “Forgive me,” he said. “A moment of weakness.” He looked at you intensely, his nostrils flaring. “All creatures hunger.”

Then he whirled away. “Please do not think me evil for it.”

You desperately wished you could see his face when he said that, but in a blink, he was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Kamau’s treatise on diplomacy and oratory is a must,” Heechul muttered to himself, flipping through the pages absently before adding to the pile on the table at the center of the room. “Oracles are known to be inherently weak in persuasion, and Zhang’s research on complementary domains proved it..." Back at the shelf, he ran his finger over the spines of an entire row, hoping it would jog his memory. “Damnit, who wrote that particularly clear natureweaving introductory text a century ago? I know I have it here somewhere, I just can’t remember their name.”

Familiar footsteps accompanied by a click on the floor sprang up behind him, so he didn’t feel the need to turn around. It wasn’t long before strong hands alighted on his shoulders, that familiar moon-topped cane gleaming where it leaned against one of the shelves.

“You’ve been in here for hours, Master,” Siwon murmured, clearly doing his level best to forcibly massage the tension out of Heechul’s body through his shoulders.

Probably true, but the leader wasn’t going to admit it. He allowed himself to hum low in his throat, turning into a closed-mouth groan, but no more. “Why aren’t you finalizing the quarterly ledger?”

But Siwon only chuckled. “The computing machines handle nearly everything in the modern era, Master. Did you forget again?”

“I still don’t like that whole expense,” Heechul muttered. “They’re just little boxes and they don’t show their work!”

Moving down his back, his right-hand man told him in a strangely indulgent tone, “I can audit them any time you’d like. You need only say the word.”

Heechul sighed. “No, don’t bother. There are much more important uses of your time.”

“Like this?” The other man joked, digging his thumbs into a knot at Heechul’s lower back.

“You very well know I meant getting ready for that raid that I sense coming sometime next week,” Heechul said archly. “See if,” god his head hurt just pulling the info, but raids were always hard on his kids, “the same one’s still in the 223 precinct to cut a deal.” However, when he felt the loss of those strong hands, he failed to hide his laughter when he complained, “I didn’t say to stop!”

“Very well, just another minute, then, shall I?”

His head drooping forward, Heechul muttered, “Whatever happened to ‘Yes, Master’?”, though the words had no bite to them.

Suddenly, hovering next to Heechul was a grid without lines, each one holding what looked to be a title and author. “How about an index instead?”

“What would I do without you?” Heechul whirled around, the index following to his right, to squeeze Siwon’s hand. “I guess it was worth saving you after all, if you’re going to make yourself useful.”

In front of him, Siwon beamed as though Heechul had said something far more affectionate. “You might even like me, too,” he lobbed playfully, squeezing back. “Also, Whitman’s parlor tricks book got into your pile again,” he added, pointing to the table with his chin.

“Ugh.” Heechul ran his hand through his hair. “Goddamned cursed fucking book. You see?” He picked it up, waving it around. “This is why I tell everyone to not get me presents. Not everyone can sense what’s been cast on them, so I get stuck with a useless book that tries to follow me around like a lost puppy. Prestidigitation? Hardly a step above distracting children with a marionette,” he huffed.

Siwon held his hands behind his back, but he was visibly suppressing laughter; Heechul never could prove where the wretched tome came from, but he had his suspicions. “Your evening appointment grows near, Master. Are you going to be in here much longer?”

Flipping through the index with only half his mind on it, Heechul did a locate on a symbolism book. He’d have to review that one first before adding it to the curriculum - not to mention, there was something waiting its turn to be shown to him that left him feeling that he’d need to have it fresh in his mind.

“Return to me in half an hour. I’ll be ready then, but I need you to handle the nightly security review in my stead.” The flash of fear in the other man’s eyes had its answering echo in Heechul’s chest, and he hated being powerless to assuage it.

“May... May I ask why?” Siwon sounded hesitant when he asked. If Heechul took in any more information, though, he’d be completely overloaded, and thus useless for meeting with the ingredient supply broker. Still, he knew that Siwon had never done a security review without him, and didn’t know how to reassure him about what it could mean. There was just... too much to do. And no way to know what kind of attack could be coming next.

Of course, if that fact became known to his staff, it would bring nothing but panic. Leaving Siwon entirely in the dark was not a viable option, however. If only the damned visions would be more specific!

Once more, Heechul sighed. “I need to be prepared while I know not for what I prepare. Don’t make a Cassandra of me for saying so, hmm? But I have a feeling,” he said, shelving the gag book while pointedly not looking at Siwon, “that our troubles are far from over.”

Author’s note: again, a huge thanks to @thesirenandtheking for all the assistance in this piece. It would not be possible without the SuJu knowledge and effortless flow of the editing process.

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