#//There are rare cases where she may hesitate; but ultimately; THEY are the ones that matter most

[oceanxveiined]

Regardless of friend or stranger, those who have seen past the easygoing facade would think her quite selfish and self-centered. And she is. She won’t hesitate to make that clear if they are in the know; in fact, would be rather relieved to.

However most don’t realize she would also be the very first person to sacrifice something, without thought or hesitation, should the situation need it. 

[burst-of-iridescent]

Can I get your thoughts on this post claiming Mai and Toph are very similar (and that Zuko clicked with Toph immediately because she reminded him of Mai)? https://at.tumblr.com/i-was-talking-to-momo/everyone-else-took-a-really-long-time-to/nyh2nz26iuay

whoooo boy, there are a lot of (sometimes just blatantly untrue) assumptions being flung around in that post.

much of what op says about mai reads more like headcanon than anything actually shown to us in the show (when was mai stifled to "the point of being incredibly depressed and borderline self-destructive"? when do we learn in the show that mai taught herself to throw knives out of boredom? how did mai "never learn to interact with people her age" when she's been friends with ty lee for years and seems to have no problem socializing at a fire nation party?) or is barely substantiated within the show (mai's alleged "repression" at the hands of her parents is told to us - not shown - in a single scene in the third season).

on the other hand, there is actual proof for toph being sheltered and repressed by her parents: we see the difference between who she is on her own/with the gaang vs with her parents. the toph who fights in earth rumble tournaments and picks her toes and speaks her mind without hesitation is not the same toph who wears dainty clothes and allows herself to be led around and meekly obeys her parents' wishes despite her own desire for freedom. there is a clear distinction between who toph feels she has to be, and who she really wants to be, and this is made clear from her very first episode.

by contrast, mai has the same apathetic, indifferent demeanor almost all the time, no matter whether she is with her parents, her friends, or her boyfriend. even in the rare cases that she does show emotion, usually smiling or smirking around zuko, it is undercut by the lack of true understanding and connection in their relationship, which makes her show of emotion feel meaningless and shallow (the only time that mai does seem to show genuine emotion and vulnerability is around ty lee, but unfortunately these moments are too far and few between for me to consider it real depth and growth for mai, much as i ship mailee). unlike toph, there are no real cracks in the facade with mai, which seem to imply that the way mai acts is who she really is, not who she feels she has to be.

i also have to laugh at this part: "Out of the entire gaang, Toph is the one that Zuko understands and empathizes with the most."

toph is the one zuko understands and empathizes with most, huh? that must be why toph was the first person in the gaang zuko felt a kinship with and reached out to - nope, that was katara. well, that's why he opened up about his deepest conflict and trauma to her and she did the same in return - whoops sorry, katara again. never mind, at least zuko and toph took an intimate field trip together related to their moment of connection over their shared trauma - oh wait.

i don't disagree that toph and zuko would have a strong friendship, or that they wouldn't be able to bond over similarities in their upbringing, but unfortunately the show just didn't expound on their relationship as much as it did with zuko's relationships with aang, sokka, and (especially) katara. it's blatantly false to imply that zuko bonded or clicked with toph the most out of anyone in the gaang, and even more so to say that it was because she reminded him of mai - both because toph is vastly different from mai, and because zuko himself didn't truly understand or click with mai in the first place.

ultimately, much of the problem with mai's character comes down to the fact that she's extremely underdeveloped (and the season that tries to expand on her character is also the one where her arc revolves almost entirely around her boyfriend) so comparing her to toph - a main character who received far more depth and development in a single episode than mai did throughout her whole arc - is a task doomed to fail from the start.

[ruki--mukami]

Ruki's possessiveness HCs? (over his s/o)

Ruki Mukami: Possessiveness over S/O Headcanons

⛓️ Every part of your body, from the chest up to the entirety of your throat, your shoulders, and even your nape adorn his bite marks, both loving and brutal. This is so that no matter what you wear, unless it's a turtleneck or scarf, all the passersby you encounter to your closest of friends and family will know Ruki lays claim to your body, blood, and most importantly, your heart. Ruki does this not only to slake his thirst or to fulfill his sadistic urges, but also because seeing you don the ultimate proof of possession instills a flame he can't seem to extinguish no matter how hard he tries. Instead, he yearns for more.

⛓️ Aside from the usual 'livestock' degradation he often resorts to, Ruki takes pleasure in calling you his. "My livestock." "My prey." "My [your name]." All of you is for him to own, claim, and mark as his personal property, and never will he miss out on the opportunity to verbally express it as well. There are times in private, such as the Mukami manor or in his bedroom, in which he will threaten you to confess who you belong to or other embarrassing lines such as "please accept my blood, Master," otherwise he will engrave more than just his fangs. After all, Vampires are known for their claws.

⛓️ Bite marks, albeit slowly, eventually fade and heal. Thus, Ruki would rarely display his ownership over you in other ways, some seemingly harmless and others taken to a whole new level of obsession and bloodshed depending on how obedient and well-behaved you've been for him. For instance, if it's a special occasion such as your birthday and you've followed all his orders, carried out all his wishes, and stay put in one place where he can monitor you more easily, then he might gift you a necklace or choker in place of a collar that one normally puts on their pet in case they run away from home and get lost. It's the same idea here. Alternatively, he won't hesitate to carve you out with his nails as well to get the same effect, one that will take much longer to heal and also spill more blood.

⛓️ Given the tragedies and suffering of his past, the eldest Mukami fears that one day you might betray him and commit the same wrongdoings as his mother. Fleeing out of fear for her well-being, abandoning the spouse she once believed would cherish her instead of hurting her. Because of this, he has developed strong distrust in others, especially women. So, don't be surprised when, even after your attempts to prove your loyalty to him, he still questions you. Occasionally he might accuse you of finding a "new master" behind his back, then punish you accordingly so that you can't even take another step without his assistance. This means draining the blood from your legs, your calves, and even your arms to immobilize you.

⛓️ In public view, what Ruki lacks in his enforcement of the Master/Livestock dynamic, he accommodates for in physical affection. Incessant hand holding, possessively wrapping his arm around your waist, and embracing you from behind are all to be expected. Indeed, it may come across as hopelessly in love to others, but only you two know the repercussions of the pain to come your way when you withdraw from his touch. Pulling away or rejecting him will undoubtedly result in more than just a harsh scolding when you arrive home after a long day of errands, school, work, etc. The dungeon, after all, has always been one of his favorite go-to sites of discipline in the whole mansion.

⛓️ Whenever the Vampire sees you with other men or anyone who looks like they harbor lecherous motives towards you, Ruki isn't afraid to show a hint of his power if it means chasing them away. He would subtly crush an object with his bare hands or punch the wall to leave a dent just to scare the poor recreants off, but it doesn't end there. No, he will be certain to discipline you as well for involving yourself with filthy whelps, saying things like "how dare you wag your tail for someone who's not your master" in the most intimidating cadence you've ever heard. Witnessing someone else get too close for comfort around you or defiling his possession with an ogle easily agitates him, so beware who and where you spend your time.

⛓️ Thanks to his watchful gaze and even the bat familiars he can summon in the blink of an eye, Ruki can and will always keep tabs on you. If you're in public together, then he'll ensure you're in his sight. As much as he can help it, the Vampire doesn't want a repeat of his human past, so needless to say, granting you an opportunity to flee is the last thing he'd ever do. For every hour of every day of the week, he already knows what you'll be doing, where you'll be located, who you're spending time with, and whether or not you'll be happier outside his presence—which would land yet another penance for you.

⛓️ In conclusion, Ruki at the very least is only affectionate with you. With everyone else, sure, he puts up an ordinary façade of charisma and charm, helping a stranger with whatever they might need as to not raise suspicion around any human peers. However, each sonorous murmur against the shell of your ear, the pain and pleasure of his fangs, and professions of love—he reserves it all for you alone. His possessiveness and tendency to get jealous only starts to lift once he realizes that he doesn't require the frequent bloodsucking, the arm enclosed around you 24/7, or the Livestock sobriquet to convince you to stay at his side, remaining as both his prey and his lover forevermore.

"Not even death shall separate us, Livestock. Forever and always, you belong to me for the rest of our days. No one can ever come between us and those who try shall perish at my hand... Now then, I'll be sure to engrave my fangs into you so you know that you're all mine."

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Fallout 4 romanced Companions reactions to sole being cute and todderlike when they get anxious? Like they hold their companions thumb or bunch up the bottom hem of their shirt?

FO4 Romanced! Companions React to Sole with Anxiety Tics

This was an awesome prompt! Thanks so much for sending it in! I hope you enjoy! 😊

(Also, I realized after the fact that I totally have like... almost all of these tics. So this was a fun journey of self discovery for me 😅 )

Cait:

Cait’s nostrils flared as Sole sat beside her, their anxiety clear in the way they incessantly cracked their knuckles over, and over, and over again. How their knuckles could even crack that much, Cait wouldn’t know. And she knew a lot about knuckles! She even cracked her own from time to time. But this seemed like overkill. Her hands would fly over to grab at her partner’s, her grip firm in the way it pried their fingers from where they clenched at their knuckles. Sole would look up at her in shock, utterly unaware that they were doing it at all, and Cait would loosen her grip, flashing them an apologetic smile and asking if there wasn’t some better way for them to release their pent-up anxiety? Maybe they could train with Cait? Box a little? C’mon, she promises to go easy!

Curie:

"Oh! Mon dieu, do not injure your clothes like this!" Curie would focus her attention on Sole, gently pulling their hands from where they bunched and tugged at the fabric between their fingers. She knew this was a tendency her companion had whenever they felt uncomfortable, and the doctor would do her best to find an alternative coping mechanism for Sole to deal with their stress. Going through breathing exercises and helping them to identify what was the true cause of their anxiety, and then trying to make whatever it is seem less daunting, Curie would do everything. Her medical training would help quite a bit in these instances, but her presence at Sole’s side would be all the more comforting, given the nature of their relationship. Once Sole shows Curie that they are trying to adhere to her more professional coping mechanisms, the doctor would be thrilled, giving constant praise and encouragement to her partner any time they seemed to be successfully dealing with their anxiety.

Danse:

Danse would spend a long time wondering silently to himself why it was that Sole always made that face when they spoke to strangers for the first time, or they seemed lost in thought, or had to speak in front of a crowd. Their mouth turned sideways, chin gyrating in such a strange way… He wondered if it somehow helped them? He wasn’t sure. When he finally managed to ask Sole about it, and they looked down at their feet in embarrassment, their expression raising up to reflect that very same face that he had been inquiring about, he decided that he already understood. He had a nervous tic as well, his superiors always berated him for cracking his knuckles when he was stressed, and now he would be the one to say something to Sole, to place a hand comfortingly on their shoulder and fix them with his sympathetic gaze when they were anxious enough to bite at the inside of their cheek. He would feel as though he were being too hard on them every time he told them to cease their nervous tendency, no matter how gentle he was about it, but ultimately he told himself, (and Sole if they brought it up) that it was because he cared. The idea of them physically harming themself, even in such a miniscule way, wouldn’t sit right with him, and he would try to work with them to find a more productive outlet to dealing with their anxiety.

Deacon:

The Railroad agent noticed early on that Sole would tug at their collar when they got antsy, and would see it as an opportunity. Every time he would see them reach for the top of their shirt, he would do the same to his own, making it a game to see how long it takes them to notice his mimicking. It was a fun way to pass the time, and to distract his partner from whatever it happened to be that was worrying them. Once Sole made it clear to Deacon that they knew what he was doing, he'd just grin at them, nice and big, telling them that everything was gonna be okay, maybe pulling them in for a reassuring hug or kiss if they looked like they needed one. Bonus points if they get nervous talking to him. In that case, he just stares straight back at them as his hand mirrors theirs, tugging at his own shirt collar…or he may even begin to tug at their collar as well, booping them on the nose as he tells them how cute they are when he makes them nervous.

Hancock:

When Hancock first noticed Sole biting at their cuticles, he figured they might be hinting for him to stop doing it himself, as that had always been a habit of his. He would continue to watch when they did it, to see if they only tore at the tips of their fingers after they had seen him do it himself, but that didn’t seem to be the case. No, only when they were about to have a tough conversation, speak in front of people, or otherwise were uncomfortable, would they engage in this destructive action. Hancock would smile to himself, approaching his partner and would slowly pry their hand from their mouth as he asked them what was bothering them. When they admitted to having their little habit, he would ask if they’d noticed his, and found that they thought he was the one mimicking them. The pair would chuckle at the thought, both of them thinking the other was making fun of them; when, in reality, they both just coincidentally happened to have the same bad habit. From then on, the couple would work together to try and prevent the other from tearing at their fingers, and would instead settle for holding hands when one of them was uncomfortable.    

MacCready:

He hated to think that he liked when his partner was anxious, but he just can’t help but smile whenever he notices Sole bringing their fingers up to tangle in their hair. The way they nervously stroked at the strands on their head, turning them round and round into little coils that would unravel once their hand left it’s place atop their head, it always made him smile; and in certain situations he would most definitely have to resist the urge to tackle them with his affection. In other situations however, if they weren’t in a very public place, or a dangerous area, if their nervousness was stemming from his steamy compliments, he wouldn’t hesitate to run his own hands through their lovely locks before covering their blushing face with kisses, even as his own cheeks turned pink. Did he ever make them flustered on purpose? Um... no. He wouldn’t dream of it ;)

Nick:

Whenever Nick sees Sole's hands running up and down their thighs, he knows that they're becoming uncomfortable. It’s his job to pay attention to the little details, and it hadn’t taken him long at all to notice his partner’s little habit, and to take action when he realized that the action was direct evidence suggesting that they were uncomfortable. No matter the situation they're in, Nick will cease whatever he's doing and reach over his good hand and rest it atop one of theirs, or lay it, palm up, on their thigh so that they can grab ahold of it if they so choose. The old synth's eyes miss nothing when Sole is in an anxious state, and he, without fail, will offer himself as a listening ear, a hand to hold, or an advice giver until he sees that Sole has physically calmed down.

Piper:

"Stop biting your nails, Blue!" Piper would shout every time she saw her partner giving in to their little nervous tic. It almost became a game with her, to see how quickly she would notice their discomfort. The sooner the better, because then she could help talk them through whatever was bothering them, Sole would startle easily every time she did it, but would find themself looking forward to the times that Piper caught them “red handed,” as it were. Sole rarely ever registered when they were doing it, and the fact that their partner did, well… they would be touched to know that Piper paid that much attention to them. And it made them even happier when she offered to paint their nails or give them a hand massage whenever she noticed that their nails were grown out.

Preston:

The first time Sole went to grasp his hand firmly in theirs, Preston thought it was rather odd, as they weren't yet together. Though he didn't mind, he did bring it up to Sole later on, just out of curiosity, and when they explained that it was a nervous tic they had, to grab onto someone they trusted when they felt anxious, he would feel nothing short of honored. The fact that Sole felt comfortable enough with him to look to him in their time of uncertainty, that they depended on him like that… it would warm his heart. As it became more of a common occurrence, the two would develop a sort of communication system this way, if Sole squeezed his hand a certain number of times it would tell him what they were nervous about, which became quite handy (pun fully intended) in certain situations. As bad as he feels about Sole being uncomfortable in any capacity, he can't help but admit how much he adores their reaction to it. It makes him feel strong, and protective, and loving, and trusted, and needed, and allows him to communicate to Sole that he'll always be there for them.

X6-88:

The courser's attention would fall to Sole the instant they started shifting side-to-side on their feet. His eyes would note the condition of the rest of their body, knowing full well that this tic of theirs was a direct result of their anxiety. When he realizes that Sole is outwardly fine, he won't quite know how to help them, but he'll want to try to do something for them. X6 will move towards them, reaching out a hand and placing it on their shoulder, his grip soft, but the weight of his palm pressing down on them would help ground them and prevent them from continuing their nervous movements. He'll want to help for their sake, want to make them feel safe, but also will want to prevent them from disclosing their anxious state to any onlookers or potential enemies.

[trainsinanime]

Season 4, Kwamis and Trust

Let’s do like the show does and put Chat Noir aside for a second. With that I think the themes of season 4 so far (after Optigami was released) are very clear: It’s about Marinette growing up into her own version of the guardian, expanding on her leader role, and the bigger message of how trust isn’t easy but ultimately worth it. And this is expressed most directly through the Kwamis.

With the Kwamis, Marinette goes against established precedent both in terms of the lore, and in terms of what the show has shown us before. Established precedent is that Kwamis can’t be let out, and they can’t use powers on their own. They can’t be trusted with the responsibility. Master Fu said (or implied) so, Su Han said so, even the Kwamis say so. And Marinette kind of ignores all of them. Marinette lets the Kwamis out (to their delight), and she lets them use their powers without a holder. She’s a bit hesitant about it, but by Optigami, it’s a well established part of her strategic toolkit. She even gave them their own phone. Now we don’t have time to unpack whether she bought it or stole it from somewhere, but that shows she is placing a lot of trust in them.

Of course, when the Kwamis do stuff on their own, accidents happen every single time. The Eiffel tower gets destroyed, or displaced, or bouncy, or… honestly I want to see what Pollen, Mullo or Wayzz would do with it. So far these things haven’t had an impact on the actual plot of any episode, but Marinette makes it clear that she considers it a problem. So the show is not at all saying that placing this trust is completely without issues.

On the other hand, it works to Marinette’s advantage. That’s why she’s allowed herself to rely on the Kwamis to begin with, and in many episodes, she wouldn’t have had any other solution. The trust pays off; it is worth the (very real) cost.

This directly mirrors what Marinette is doing with Alya. She trusted her, and it has caused problems - as of Optigami, potentially a lot of problems. But it has also given her new freedoms and new abilities, like the anti-akuma charms. Trust, teamwork and breaking rules has made Marinette stronger, but it hasn’t been easy.

In both cases, the trust has been earned in some part through intentions and long-running relationships rather than individual actions. Marinette trusts the Kwamis because she knows they mean well, even though she is completely aware that they are not good at controlling their powers and avoiding disasters. In Gang of Secrets, Marinette trusted Lady Wifi not because she was acting trustworthy at that point, but because she has known Alya for a long time. That trust paid off, and paved the way for the Alyanette reveal. And when she gave her the miraculous permanently, it was again based on Alya’s overall performance, while being fully aware that Alya sometimes makes mistakes - just like the Kwamis, or Marinette herself for that matter.

This is a general thing with Miraculous Ladybug: The show acknowledges mistakes, but in the long term, it judges people on intentions more than actions. When Marinette causes the circumstances that lead to an akumatisation (as always, I want to stress that only Hawkmoth actually causes akumas), her failure is rarely one of intention; she generally means well. Her mistakes tends to be about execution, or not having thought enough about how her actions may affect someone. Exceptions apply, of course, especially when Adrien is involved, but they are just that: Exceptions. Usually she wants to help someone and does a not-quite-perfect job of it, and usually, she reaches her goal in the end, because her original intention was absolutely solid. Now, in season 4, Marinette is extending that same set of values to the Kwamis and Alya.

We have also seen the counterpoint to this theme of trust in the first few episodes: In Truth and Gang of Secrets, Marinette thought she couldn’t trust anyone; not Luka, not Alya, not Chat Noir and not even really the Kwamis. She was more busy trying to wrangle them than treating them as partners. All of that made her and the people around her miserable. It led to a break-up and made things much easier for Shadow Moth. By learning to trust people, even if it is against the rules, she was able to turn this around.

Let’s bring this back to our favourite kitty. Right now you will find a lot, and I mean a lot of meta that talks about how Marinette is leaving Chat Noir by the wayside, and how that means he’ll be very sad and this will lead to a big conflict later. And that may indeed be true. But I don’t think it’s what the season will be about (meaning I think this conflict will at most be a two-parter). If we take the show at face value, what we’ve seen about the season so far has been Marinette learning that trusting people is risky but worth it, and that rules to the contrary may need to be rethought.

The big payoff for this character arc of hers of this could be her just asking people for their phone when she needs it.

That, or the more exciting possibility: How about breaking the oldest rule, and trusting her closest and yet most distant friend completely? It’s risky but worth it. Is this season really headed for a reveal? I have no idea, but it seems like a logical progression for what Marinette is currently going through. Maybe with a bit of conflict on the way, sure, but that conflict isn’t the point. The trust is.

As for Chat Noir being sidelined? Honestly, parts of that may just be a time issue. Optigami was a busy episode with a lot of plot points, and it focused heavily on developing Marinette first, and Alya second. Something has to give, I guess. I think the episode did more hinting at a Djwifi crisis (which could be a blueprint for Ladynoir, by the way) than anything else. The show generally isn’t that subtle, and if this was supposed to be a setup for a huge Ladynoir conflict or Chat Noir depression spiral, then it was an incredibly weak one.

I know this goes against the grain of everything the fandom (including me) has been saying up to this point, yes. But also consider that we don’t know how Chat Noir-centric the unreleased episodes will be. I’m still guessing Marinette will be the more important character throughout the season, because that is how the show has literally always worked. But this is the first season where we got an episode that was focused strictly on Adrien, with Lies. And with episodes like „Gabriel Agreste“ coming up or Nino’s remarks in Guiltrip, I think that probably wasn’t the last Adrien-centric episode yet either. He’s got some stuff to figure out for himself as well before a reveal, or for that matter a big Ladynoir fight, would really make much sense.

At some point, I think it’s more interesting to look at the show that’s actually there instead of the show that isn’t, which is right now the Chat Noir focused one. We don’t actually know enough to do more than guess there, while the main story keeps on telling us how Marinette grows into her role as not just fighter but team leader, and what values she develops throughout that. The Kwamis are a crucial part of that process.

(This is mostly an expanded version of what I wrote yesterday.)

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

A Grave Life Part Sixty Eight

Previous Part | Masterlist Notes: I hope everyone has a good week 💖

...Oof, guys. Final chapter. This has been... A Journey. I mean this fic is over 100K words now. I’m.. I have been writing this fic for two years? Like this is honestly one of the stories that got me into writing fic consistently again. So...Thank you for reading, thank you for sticking with me on this truly wild ride, like it has been...Insane. Thank you thank you thank you.

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical violence, mention of injury, cursing, mention of PTSD, angst, fluff Summary: “We’ll just need you to sign these forms, Mrs. Graves,” I heard, and was startled when a clipboard was passed to me and not Eugenia. It was the first time that I’d heard myself referred to as such by anyone that wasn’t Percival.

I finally understood why Percival was always at such a low ebb when I was in the Medical wing. I couldn't be drawn out of that room for a blessed thing— food, sleep, nothing. I kept wary watch, untrusting of everyone that trickled in to check on Percival. I technically had no reason to be— I’d placed the same enchantment on the door as had been on our apartment door, so anyone entering under any disguise would be revealed to be false in a matter of seconds.

I wasn’t alone in my lingering. Piquery dropped in frequently, between Congressional hearings to find out how he was doing; Eugenia also spent days there with us, fussing with the staff and pestering them to find out how soon Percival could be moved into a more comfortable environment.

“We’ll just need you to sign these forms, Mrs. Graves,” I heard, and was startled when a clipboard was passed to me and not Eugenia. It was the first time that I’d heard myself referred to as such by anyone that wasn’t Percival. I felt Eugenia’s eyes narrow at me as I took the clipboard, eyeing the forms before signing them and passing them back. The nurse hurried out of the room, seeming as wary of the frosty atmosphere as I was. I leaned back in the rickety old chair I had taken up residence in, turning my attention back to Percival.

He was healing well, at least. The swelling on his handsome face had gone down; he’d been awake for a little while the day before, and we’d spoken for just a few minutes before he’d drifted off to sleep again.

“When precisely did that happen?” Eugenia asked after a moment. I sighed softly, scrubbing my hand across my brow.

“Just before he left for the assignment.”

“...Elkton?” “Yes.” Eugenia was quiet for a moment longer, and I lifted my eyes uncertainly to her. She was gazing at me with an indecipherable expression. I pressed my lips into a thin line, turning to look back down at Percival, marking the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“And that… That man didn’t know?”

I shook my head, “There seem to have been details that Percival omitted when he was speaking with Grindelwald, like our marriage… Or the fact that he calls me dearheart and not dear. Things that he knew would raise alarm bells for me.”

Eugenia hummed thoughtfully; I could see her nodding in my periphery.

“Breadcrumbs,” She mumbled.

“Quite.”

We fell into silence after that. -- “Perhaps he���d be best at your apartment.”

I was surprised that Eugenia was entertaining the idea at all. I shook my head a little bit.

“He needs familiarity right now— and I’ve no doubt that he’ll know Grindelwald has been to the apartment. I think he’ll be better at your home.”

Eugenia bristled at the name, but she tipped her chin up a moment later.

“If that is to be the case, then I must insist on your staying as well.”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Graves—”

“He will need you close by, and I still have my own obligations to uphold.”

I hesitated before nodding a little bit, “I can get some clothes together— I think Percival and I ought to stay in separate rooms for the time being.”

Eugenia’s head tipped to the side a little bit, eyes narrowed in confusion.

“You’ve already spent so much time apart.”

“He’s been hurt, Eugenia, he’s still healing. I don’t want him to feel like I’m crowding him. I’ll be nearby if he needs me there, but I don’t—” I stopped myself, taking in a shaking breath as my worry welled over. I couldn’t quite say what else I feared: that Percival would ultimately push me away, that what had happened was just too much for him. I would understand it if that was the choice that he made; so much had happened, and while I would be there for whatever Percival needed, I couldn’t fool myself into thinking that everything would simply fall into being the way that it was. 

-- Eugenia put me up in the room beside Percival’s.

It was a nice room— there was a large four-poster bed and a large window that overlooked the street. It was different from the room that I had been put up in the last time I had been wounded and sent to convalesce in Eugenia’s home.

The first few nights were quiet enough— Percival was still worn out; he was sleeping more often than not. When he was awake during the day, he was either trying to read the paper (focusing for too long still made his head hurt; he’d been quite heavily concussed) or asking me about cases that he’d missed.

The two of us spoke about what had happened to ourselves very little; I didn’t feel right asking Percival to ask what had happened, and Percival didn’t ask what had happened with me so much. It was clearly something that neither of us were ready to broach.

The fourth night, I woke up with a start. I felt cagey, like I was being watched. I glanced around, spotting a figure looming in my doorway.

“Perce?” I asked softly.

“...I can’t sleep,” He said after a moment; his voice was thick and hoarse with disuse. I pushed myself to sit up before I reached out, patting the bed beside myself to urge him deeper inside. He walked in slowly, looking toward the window a little bit before he climbed into bed. I saw him wince just a little bit before he settled down beside me.

I rolled onto my side to look at him. He stared up at the ceiling in silence; I could see his eyelids fluttering in the darkness.

“...What did you do today?” He asked after a few moments.

“Talked to Matilda.”

“How is she?”

“Better. Tired of desk duty.”

“...She’s as impatient as you used to be.”

I smiled a little bit.

“Thomas doesn’t want her going back to work so soon, though,” I added.

“I understand.”

I was quiet as Percival shifted to face me. I held very still as he reached out, resting his hand on my cheek.

“...What’ll you do tomorrow?” He asked. I shrugged a little before I turned my head, brushing my lips along his palm. I didn't want to move things too quickly and scare him off, but I'd missed the easy affection that he and I used to have.

“I don’t know,” I murmured, “Your mother said that Ermentine will be stopping by for a little bit.”

Percival hummed, skating his thumb along my cheekbone. I felt my eyelids flutter, my stomach flipping at the tender contact.

“She’s been asking to stop by to see you,” I added.

“She’s plenty welcome to,” Percival murmured, “So long as she doesn’t bring another damn duckhead.” -- Apparently I laughed so loudly that I woke up Eugenia. 

--

It started with sleeping in the same bed together. It was always Percival in my bed; I was too scared to go into his bedroom, I didn’t want to push. But waking up at Percival’s side was more than enough of a start.

He started to receive visitors in Eugenia’s parlor: Tina, Queenie, Picquery, Ermentine. Piquery rarely brought work (though Percival did pry for details); he spent his waking hours in the parlor, too. He began to read for longer hours at a stretch. We began to go for daily walks when weather would allow. We walked closely to one another, but we weren’t quite up to cuddling with one another as we had before he’d left. -- “Where did he send you?” Percival asked.

It was late; I was nearly asleep; Percival was curled up beside me under the covers.

“...A No-Maj boarding house,” I mumbled, “He hid my wand under one of the floorboards. Practically ripped the place apart when I accio’d for it.”

“How long?”

“Weeks.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“...If he did, I can’t remember,” I admitted, opening my eyes a little to look at him. He was watching me closely. Percival was quiet for a few moments, eyes wandering my face.

“We should begin looking for a new home,” He said after a few moments.

My brows furrowed.

“What about the apartment?”

“...I don’t want to go back there,” He shook his head, lowering his eyes and taking hold of my hand, “And I want somewhere that we can build our lives together the way we planned.”

I intertwined our fingers, my love for him welling over. I nodded, dipping my head and pressing a kiss to the back of his knuckles.

“I think your mother’s beginning to get sick of us, anyway,” I teased, smiling.

Percival’s lips quirked with a small smile.

“Perhaps a little,” He agreed. -- We knew that Eugenia wouldn’t stand for our being too far away— and given all that had happened, we didn’t want to be terribly far from her, either.

Percival and I found a home in the same neighborhood as Eugenia’s. It was one that I insisted was far too large for the two of us. Percival wrapped his arm around my shoulders and nodded, looking around what we had been told was a good third guest bedroom.

“It may not always be the two of us,” He said, “And in time, we may need more room. Would you rather we have to look for that now or...When it’s more difficult for you to move things around?” He arched an almost teasing brow at me, and I had to fight down a smile.

“If we move in here, your mother is going to think that we’ll have an army of children,” I argued; I couldn’t stand to beat around the bush on this any longer. Percival smiled, brushing his lips against my forehead.

“Perhaps not an army.” -- Our days weren’t always easy. We did still fight, sometimes— Percival wanted to return to work at Congress; I wasn’t ready for him to get anywhere near his old files. Percival wanted to go back to the apartment and pack things up; I was insistent that we could hire people to pack things up for us. I hadn’t been back there in some time, and I had no intention of going back.

There were nights when the both of us were wracked with nightmares; we had woken one another up with our whimpers, our tossing and turning. Those nights were the longest, and the most quiet between us— we would wake up and just hold the other until the shaking would subside. More often than not, neither of us would be able to fall back asleep. -- “It’s a mansion,” Matilda said flatly.

“I warned you that it was too big,” I said, shutting the door behind her. I waited until she had hung her coat up before I hugged her tightly. Matilda wasn’t the hugging type, but she granted me this, patting my shoulder twice before letting me lead her into our sitting room.

“Percival’s idea?”

“Yes.”

“Where is he?”

“...It’s his first day back,” I answered stiffly, pouring a cup of tea for Matilda.

“I see.”

I could feel Matilda eyeing me, and I glanced over at her, arching a brow.

“Thomas didn’t handle my first day back well, either,” She offered as she took the saucer. I sighed, sitting across from her and toying with the pendant around my neck (Eugenia had given it back the day Percival and I had moved out, with a small smile and a warning that she never wanted it handed back to her again).

“I’m handling it fine,” I grumbled, sliding the pendant back and forth on the chain. Matilda eyed the chain before her eyes lifted to mine, unconvinced.

“How’s it been for you, then?” I asked. Matilda shrugged, looking down into the cup.

“It’s been…Familiar. I thought that being back in the office would be more difficult, but— Well, perhaps the month of desk duty wasn’t such a bad thing. It let people ease into the idea of my being around them after what’s happened. I think Graves may have the same experience.”

“Well, the two of you can discuss that when you come over on Saturday. And Thomas and I will discuss how ridiculous the two of you are.”

Matilda arched a sharp brow, lips twitching as a smile threatened to break through. -- “...Are you going to ask?”

“Hm?” I tore my eyes away from where his wedding ring sat on his finger. It was odd— we’d been married for months, but it was still a new sight. Percival offered me an amused little smile.

“We don’t have to tip-toe around it,” He added, sitting down beside me on the bed.

“...Alright,” I huffed out a breath before taking hold of his hand in mind, intertwining our fingers, “How was work, then?”

Percival ran his thumb along my wedding band, looking down at our hands, and I wondered if the sight of mine was as foreign to him.

“It was… Interesting. The department seems to be walking on eggshells.”

“There’s going to be an adjustment period, Perce,” I reassured softly, turning my head and looking up at him.

“...The President wants to know if you would be open to testifying in front of Congress in regards to Grindelwald’s case.”

I was quiet for a moment, fighting the urge to snap that she could ask me herself.

“I’ll consider it,” I said after a moment. I wasn’t sure if I could bring myself to relive everything— I didn’t want to remember any more of it than I had to.

“Take your time,” Percival nodded. I glanced up at him, smiling a little when I saw him watching him.

“What is it?”

“I missed you today,” He admitted, “Is that odd?”

“No,” I chuckled, shaking my head, “I missed you, too.”

He smiled and leaned in, brushing his lips gently across mine. I sighed softly, raising my free hand to his face and cupping his cheek. I had reveled in each of Percival’s kisses since I’d gotten him back.

“We should get going,” I warned as I reluctantly leaned away from his kiss, “We’ll be late for dinner at your mother’s.” 

“She’ll understand.”

“She’ll be displeased— and she’s liable to turn up to make sure everything’s alright.”

Percival grunted as I stood. He held onto my hand, and I frowned, watching him.

“What is it?” I asked softly.

“...Thank you,” He said.

“For what?”

“Being so damn stubborn.”

I grinned, unable to help it.

“Do you ever wish I wasn’t?” I asked. Percival shook his head a little bit.

“I used to,” He admitted, tugging me a little closer by my hand, “But I would not want you any other way, dearheart.”

Tag list: @myplaceofheavenorhell​​​​​​​​​​​​  ; @britishfajita​​​​​​​​​​​​ ; @terrainhead​​​​​​​​​​​​ ; @thatkidofwarandpeace​​​​​​​​​​​​ ; @rvgrsbrns​​​​​​​​​​​​ ; @maaaaryx​​​​​​​​​​​​  ; @remmyswritings​​​​​​​​​​​​  ; @flostvs1508​​​​​​​​​​​​ ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta​​​​​​​​​​​​ ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​​​​​​​​​​​​ ; @paintballkid711​​​​​​​​​​​​​ ; @knightsimp​​​​​​​​​​​​​; @hypnobananaangelfish​​​ ; @tardis-23​​​​​​​​ ; @lunadegitana​​​​ ; @recklessworry​

[jadelotusflower]

Robin Hood Rewatch: 2x05 Ducking and Diving

A really excellent episode, the best of season 2 by far. This is when the series arc really starts to kick into gear, bringing to a close the Allan-as-spy plot and setting up the Allan as team!Castle plot. We also get further in Robin's reversion to solider mode, and meet one of (if not the) best guest character Matilda, who should have returned, but sadly doesn't.

We start with some rare continuity between episodes! Allan upset about the death of Roger of Stoke, but not so upset that he doesn't tell Guy about the plan to ambush Henry of Lewes on the North Road. Still rationalising that it's not information that directly hurts anyone in the gang, forgetting that Marian was the one who gave them the information about Henry and therefore could be putting her at risk.

The security around Marian has been relaxed enough for her to leave the castle and wander the town without an escort. Based on her saving Guy a few episodes earlier, or Vaisey just not that bothered about her anymore?

The ongoing conflict between Robin and Marian - his first priority to try and keep her safe, hers to take action, and this will feed directly into their discord later on in the season. They're mirroring each other in the costuming and framing here, once again on opposite sides of the same argument.

Robin ultimately backs down, but remains on edge in the next scene with Much, who knows him so well as can read everything into Robin's refusal to answer anything. While he knows Much is the last one who would ever betray him, he's gone into lone wolf territory with this. He's back to thinking as Robin of Locksley, Captain of the King's personal guard, not Robin Hood, protector of the people of Nottinghamshire. The King is in danger, and so he's got blinders on to anything and anyone that would make him deviate from the goal ensuring Richard's safety.

"I'll chop off my own arms! Well, one arm, because once I chop that off I won't be able to chop the other..." I love Much so much. With this he's able to break through Robin's severe mood, but is still sent away.

Matilda! Another fantastic one-and-done guest star, in a great turn by Josie Lawrence (who would go on to play actual witch Agnes Nutter in Good Omens).

"You hairy, pigwitted fox turd! I'll pluck your eyeballs from your bumpy skull and and squelch them into cesspits!"

I also really enjoy David Bamber (another been-in-everything character actor) as Blight, really embodying that weasel energy of those in the Sheriff's employ.

"If you were on fire, I would not damp you with my wet underwrappings."

Ah, so Guy questions where Marian's guard is, so maybe she's just getting better at giving them the slip. She also expertly manipulates Guy into giving her a day off from surveillance.

It's really funny just how often Robin's disguises consists of a hood or hat that covers half his face and an accent. Matilda recognises him immediately but the guards don't think (or don't care) to look at the face of every person who comes into the castle? Although it's worth pointing out that in this case he also affects a non-functioning arm and limp, and there's something to be said for Robin choosing the shunned of society to disguise himself as - beggars, etc - those who people may feel uncomfortable around and therefore who they may actively avoid looking at closely.

I love the affection Matilda has for Robin (as the Locksley theme plays), there's a real sense of history between the two of them in the way she kisses his head and then sasses him.

Matilda also refers to her daughter Rosa's child as having "twice turned" and that Robin "was worse" - Matilda was the midwife who delivered Robin, so this feeds directly into my personal headcanon that Robin's mother died in childbirth (I can't remember if this is contradicted by season 3 or not).

Robin has zero hesitation whipping out that knife and attempting to kill Henry of Lewes - the no-kill policy has been completely abandoned.

"So we just...cut out his tongue?" is on one level a nice bit of humour, but on a darker level a grim reflection of Vaisey's tongue-cutting spree of 1x02. Robin is descending that slippery slope back into the solider he was and tried so hard in season 1 not to be anymore.

From a certain point of view, it makes sense - Robin tried to leave the war behind in the Holy Land, and his fight against the Sheriff was something different, a way to atone for his sins, and protect his people the only way he could. As Robin Hood he could be a leader, symbol, a rallying point, and could therefore occupy the moral high ground, to defend his own personal Holy Land (Locksley) but this time without bloodshed. Operation Shah Mat changes all that - it brings the war right back to him, and in war there is no morality, no mercy, and casualties are to be expected.

Marian the Spy. Having overheard Guy's guard telling him a sign was left at the 'Trip, she follows him there and is able to confirm there is indeed a spy and tell Robin, which she wouldn't have been able to do if she'd done what he asked and left the castle.

Also the first time we see this gown, which I really quite like.

Okay, to the key piece of information that Robin is so intent on killing Henry to stop is where the king will land on his return from the Holy Land. But at this point, there's no indication of when the king will return or if there's even plans for him to do so, and as we learn later in the season, Richard has no intention to leave the Holy Land even when told of the Sheriff's treason, so the crux of this whole episode is somewhat tenuous.

"I will not be treated with equal suspicion" and storming off is peak Much energy. This is a really well-written episode, kudos Debbie Oates (who also wrote Turk Flu).

Allan chooses not to step forward when Robin offers amnesty, his fear holding him back given that a brawl almost started at the mere suggestion of a traitor in the camp.

Blight's slimy little mustache is just chef's kiss. Well done hair and makeup department.

Matilda is a badass, still sassing Vaisey in the face of a witch trial.

Really excellent scene between Allan and Djaq, who absolutely knows that he's the spy. "Maybe he's stuck. People get stuck you know?" My heart just breaks for Allan here, because he's made some terrible choices, but got drawn in under duress (and torture), made a bad decision to try and skirt the line and then just couldn't extricate himself. While Robin's reverting to solider mode, Allan is reverting to survival mode, thinking on his feet and hoping he can talk his way out of it - he can't hear Djaq's good advice.

Djaq also brings up his brother, and the example of Tom is twofold - on the one hand it shows that Robin is willing to forgive even in the face of betrayal, and on the other demonstrates that Robin cannot offer absolute protection from the Sheriff. Tom died because of his association with Robin, and that is a very real danger to Allan, as became apparent when he was captured in 2x01. Of course, this does not absolve Allan for his actions which had direct and deadly consequences, but gives them nuance.

Everyone is getting a character moment (and an extreme closeup) this episode! John having to face his own regrets as a father and not being there for Alice, but now able to be there for Rosa and help her through labour, is a nice little beat.

Interestingly, Will is all for killing Henry as a traitor to the king (possibly why Robin chooses him as the decoy to flush out the spy). Also pretty pat that Robin is absolved of his moral dilemma by shooting Henry to save Much.

Of course Robin didn't have to go through the pantomime with Will, but was giving Allan one last chance to come forward (and I think at this point Robin is pretty sure that it is Allan) - if he had spoken up in that moment, knowing Will was innocent and shouldn't be banished, and instead confessed, I think thing might have been very different. Instead, he takes the cowardly way out and tries to get out of his role as spy and remain with the gang without revealing himself - would he have let Will stay banished?

Nice framing here - Allan is boxed in with no escape.

Robin has all but adopted Marian's "everything is a choice" as his own. For all his faults, he took Marian’s criticism in 1x02 to heart and now lives by that creed. Allan had many choices up to this point - perhaps few good choices, but choices nonetheless. On the other hand, it’s hard to break free from the habit of a lifetime.

Because Allan has points too - Robin still has a great deal of privilege that isn't washed away even though he's an outlaw like the others. He is in part so focused on Richard returning because he wants things to go back to the way they were - but the way things were for Allan weren’t great, and perhaps he doesn’t quite trust that Robin won’t be different once he’s a lord again.

Robin is all cold fury in this scene, but is also rather visibly upset at Allan’s betrayal and almost on the verge of tears. It cuts very deep.

Allan begins and ends this episode in the ‘Trip, and it’s interesting that in some ways his scene with Guy mirrors his scene with Robin. At first, Allan says he’s got nothing for Guy, but very quickly falls in line and tells him about the ambush. With Robin, his resentful “you’re always in the sun, and I’m always in the shade” very quickly turns into “please give me another chance.” But the chances have all been extinguished, the choices made, and both of them must live with the consequences.

[sealer-of-wenkamui]

Ciaran Character Analysis

I’ve been thinking a lot about Ciaran over the last few months, so I wanted to try and collect my thoughts and do a proper character analysis of sorts. Of course, things are highly open to interpretation in Dark Souls, so this is just how I read her character and the reasons why.

               First of all, I actually don’t think she was together with Artorias for a number of reasons. She almost certainly had feelings for him, but I think she tried to hide them, and perhaps didn’t fully understand them. For one, she simply speaks of him as a “dear friend”, and while this could also be taken as her keeping their relationship secret, there is no description or unused dialogue from Artorias’ side hinting at it either.  I also wonder if her unused dialogue where she calls him a “dear companion” was changed because it sounds too openly affectionate.  In Gough’s unused dialogue he states that she had ���strong feelings” for him, which is worded like they were one sided instead of in a relationship. And while he might have realized it, Gough is also the most perceptive of the Knights, even realizing that the fire will one day fade, while Artorias strikes me as being much more oblivious. Finally, her dying words come across like the confession of a dying woman, one who was never able to say her feelings in life, so she at least will say them now that she has nothing to lose. Interestingly enough, they’re also unsubtitled- words meant not for you, but for Artorias and for herself.

               One of the biggest reasons why I think she would hide her feelings is her position. She is one of four Knights of Gwyn, entrusted with a special soul, and despite her appearance, she is considered something more than human, and seems to have disdain for humans (as seen by her dialogue when you attack her, or even just the way she says “human” in her unused dialogue).

I don’t think it’s the case that she’s human while the others are not just because she’s small, since size seems to be easily variable based on the state of the soul, for example Ornstein grows in size upon absorbing the soul of Smough, or Gael, much larger than your average person after consuming the dark souls of the pygmies. Perhaps even Artorias was a normal size to begin with.

Ultimately the gods and these demigod-like existences with their special souls aren’t all that different from humans, but the important thing is that they are considered as such, so she would be too. Humanity is constantly linked with the dark throughout the series.  And even someone as kindhearted as Artorias, who believes in the goodness of humanity, thinks of the dark as something evil, something to be feared (In fact he words it as believing them to be more than just dark in his unused dialogue). One of the four Knights of the man who sacrificed himself to stave off the Age of Dark would want nothing to do with the dark. Yet feelings, and especially feelings of love, are a very human thing (just look at the pursuers/affinity description for example). That alone seems like the strongest reason to hide any feelings she might have for Artorias, to refuse to acknowledge that human side of her, to repress them and pretend they don’t exist.

Even more so than the other knights she comes across as having something to prove, as someone that has worked so hard to reach the distinguished status she has and doesn’t want anything to take that from her. The lightning arrow description mentions that female knights were rare to begin with, and she was able to work her way up to being one of Gwyn’s most trusted. The porcelain mask description mentions how determined she was to earn it as a decoration of honor (I imagine she first became an especially distinguished Lord’s Blade before becoming one of the four), and the English description actually leaves out another interesting fact- that it’s decorated with her own hair. The wording makes it sound like she cut her own hair to decorate that mask. This makes it seem like she wanted to stand out and make a name for herself- giving herself a distinct look that would come to be feared by all enemies of Lord Gwyn.

On the level of character design, her mask is what she’s most known for, the hornet ring description in DS3 even drawing attention to it. This comes across as a very deliberate choice reflecting her character- as she is a woman whose mask is more than just physical, someone who is perpetually hiding her “human” side. Her mask gives her an otherworldly look, like something beyond humans and reflects her “divine” self. Her purpose in life is to strike down any and all enemies of her Lord, and she has worked so hard towards that alone, almost as if she’s trying to become the mask she wears.  Even though I think she might be able to relax a little around the other knights and especially Artorias, she comes across as a very serious woman that doesn’t truly know much about herself outside of her job. Interestingly, her face under the mask is just the default female face in-game, as if she truly isn’t meant to be seen without it!

No matter how much she tries to repress her feelings though, a mask is still just a mask, and they don’t disappear just because she wants them to. She has strong feelings for Artorias, a darkness she desperately wants to hide. Despite being a Knight of Gwyn, I tend to associate her with the darkness as a result, and even her name may be a reflection of that as well. Ciaran is common Irish boy’s name (Ciara is a girl’s name but she specifically has the masculine form of the name, a decision I also think was intentional and may tie into her being the only woman of the four and how rare female knights were) and looking around, she doesn’t seem to be named after any famous Ciaran as far as I know. So, what is the meaning of the name? Little dark one. A name associated with darkness seems especially significant in this series, and her struggle with her own humanity is central to her character, something that even her name itself betrays.

Since female knights are apparently rare, and she has an especially high-ranking position, I think she would also want to hide her feelings out of fear of being seen as just a girl in love. I also think its interesting how the hornet ring description also draws attention to the fact that she’s the only woman of the four, and how her name is almost exclusively used for boys, and I wonder if she went by the title of “sir” as well. At the same time, her appearance is the distinctly feminine look shared by all the Lord’s Blades, even using her own hair as well, so it’s not something she’s hiding either.  

In addition to being the lone woman of the four, I also got the impression that she’s the youngest and last to join the Knights, which may further add to the feeling of needing to prove herself.

The main reason why actually comes from her speech pattern, when you compare it to the rest of the characters seen in that time period, it stands out. While Elizabeth, Dusk, Gough, and even Artorias all speak in an old-fashioned manner, she noticeably does not, except for “May the Lord guide thee” which sounds like a set phrase anyone serving Gwyn might say. If it was tied to status, then she would speak that way as well, she’s hardly trying to hide it (and besides we see other characters opposed to the gods that speak in the same way, like the hollow outside the Ringed City or Yuria). Maybe she did come from a more humble upbringing and that could be why, but with how varied the characters that do speak like that are I don’t think that’s it (and even some clearly noble characters don’t, like Lothric or Oceiros). So I wonder if its simply because she was born later once speech styles had changed.

Her position also makes sense if so as well, she’s an assassin, so even if she wasn’t around until after the Age of Fire had begun and Gwyn had gained status, that’s exactly when you would need a skilled assassin to eliminate your enemies. In other words, she’s not a dragonslayer, so it still makes sense if she is younger.

Going back to her feelings, the way I see it is that Artorias being consumed by the Abyss and killed is what finally forced her to face them- she’s not able to recognize just how strong they are until the man himself is gone. Perhaps she planned to kill him herself as she was in the area, but realized she couldn’t, or rather that she would almost surely hesitate and get herself killed. In a way, its almost a relief the chosen undead came along and killed him instead, she understood it was something that needed to be done, and though she doesn’t seem to like humans very much, she doesn’t hold anything against you.  You find her immediately after killing Artorias, so she almost certainly would have been the one to find his corpse and make that small memorial, as if she wanted to make sure it would be her and no one else to find him. Despite being the kind of person who would always be watching her back, you find her kneeling in prayer, not so much as turning to look at you when you approach, and you can even easily attack her from behind in such a state. As if simply being there in prayer was the most important thing in that moment- and she surely has a lot of thoughts going through her head and a lot of feelings hitting her all at once. At this point, she can’t lie to herself, and even if she couldn’t confess while he was alive, if you take her life, she’ll at least do it before she dies.

When you speak to her, she seems to have no interest in you outside of obtaining Artorias’ soul, with only his will stopping her from taking it from you. She claims she wants to pay proper respect to him with it, but at the moment, his actual grave hasn’t been made yet, so I imagine she might take it into herself for a while until that point.

As to her eventual fate, I do think its likely she’s the corpse found behind his grave that has the hornet ring. At first I wondered why someone of her status wouldn’t have a proper burial, but in time, not many people are going to that grave, and those that do don’t return, so it may simply be she died after it was forgotten, and her corpse was never found.

The fact that she will give you her tracers if you give her his soul implies she gives up being a Knight of Gwyn (they’ve half fallen apart at that point anyway), but she doesn’t strike me as the type to kill herself right then and there, I think it would be a slow wasting away and curling up to die behind the grave of the man she loved. She (nor Gough) drop the special souls that they should have as part of the four… and while it may simply be to not further encourage people to kill them, if that soul is what gives them a long life (Ornstein is somehow still around after all) she may have purposely given it up so that she may eventually die… or maybe its after she receives his soul and she keeps both hers and his at his grave.

Finally, her ring ends up in the untended graves in DS3, and while there are a number of reasons you can come up with for how it ended up there, I feel like the most important part is the symbolic meaning behind it- for it is found by a grave with a Farron greatsword, one of the types modeled after that of Artorias’. It feels as if even in death, her feelings linked the two of them together.

While not nearly as direct, even DS2 has a parallel to Ciaran in the form of Alsanna. Much like Ciaran, you find her kneeling in prayer mourning her lost love, who also happens to be a left-handed swordsman who sacrificed himself and got corrupted and even has (several) animal companions. (DS2 also is where its mentioned that Artorias was left-handed, and its consistently used to mark characters paralleling him, even in Bloodborne with Ludwig.) Her soul even gives you a pair of curved swords. Parallels can also be drawn between the other three knights and people closely associated with the fragments of Manus, but only Ciaran parallels the child of dark herself, further deepening her association with the dark.

More directly, DS3 has the Dancer and Vordt, two knights who seem to honor Ciaran and Artorias’ legacy, and were always seen together- in fact you can see phantoms of what seems to be them before they were transformed into beasts walking the streets of Irithyll together (Vordt too, is left-handed). Despite how she tried to hide her feelings, I think it may have been her ring that betrayed them, so they ended up being remembered together. The Pontiff Knights in general also have a great deal of similarity to the Lord’s Blades, somewhat in armor design but mostly in their job, being described as Sulyvahn’s “punitive blades”. The Dancer herself most notably has two curved blades that look remarkably similar to Ciaran’s tracers in shape, as well as being gold and silver, even wielding the gold one in her left hand like she did.

There are probably more little details I could add, but this is already long, and I’ve covered the major points that I’ve thought a lot about. I tried to explain my reasoning as best as possible too, but there’s plenty of stuff that’s unknown and that’s half the fun. Feel free to comment, I love Ciaran and I love to think about her and discuss her!

[seriouslyhooked]

The Best Bad Idea

Three-part CS AU where Emma and Killian are doctors working at the same hospital (world without pandemic). They’ve yet to meet, but Emma has definitely seen the sexy Dr. Jones in her travels at Mist Haven Medical. It’s generally a bad idea to get involved with a colleague, but a little fantasizing never hurt… right? Inspired by the song ‘Bad Idea’ by Ariana Grande and a TV couple who set the bar for true love stories. 

Available on FF Here and AO3 Here. 

A/N: Hey all! Here is a little something I made instead of being a responsible writer and finishing my other projects. I’ll be back to my other WIPs soon (God willing), but in the meantime here’s my 1000th attempt at writing a Captain Swan meet cute. I needed to get some words on the page, and this is the result. Hope you all enjoy, and thanks for reading!

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, Thump. Steady, sure, and even. A solid pulsing sound with no inconsistencies and no delays or false starts.

In this particular patient, that fourth set of beats was the most important. Prior to his recent operation, Earl MacDonald’s heart had been weak and skipping needed pulses, then constricting far too harshly on every fourth measure. That type of arrhythmia had potentially disastrous consequences, but those worrying beats were seemingly behind them. The rhythm Emma heard through the stethoscope was a regularly circulating drumline, the tell-tale song of a heart that was working, and working well. Her surgical intervention had been successful.

She gently released the breath she was holding, a sign of the stress that she carried while waiting for patients to recuperate. Emma never let the patients see her sweat, but she had been worried on multiple levels in this case. Earl was going on 80, and not a logical contender for intensive cardiac mediation, but Emma’s gut had told her he could handle it, and she was rarely ever wrong. Earl forged through the surgery like a much younger man, and his outputs post-operation had all been extremely encouraging. It was shaping up to be another win, another life saved thanks to the power of medicine, and that filled Emma with real joy. She always did her absolute best to create good outcomes, and this time there was so much more on the line than one life. This was a man who was loved and cherished by the people closest to him, and who would be sorely missed if something were to happen.

“Anything you want me to note for the chart, Doctor Swan?” 

Emma bit back a witty retort at the pointed use of the word ‘Doctor.’ She was one of the few surgeons in this hospital who didn’t care what people called her, as long as they called on her early enough to actually save the patient’s life. But with Belle, a person Emma considered a dear and true friend, there was an added lilt of sass when using her title. Her friend was one of the nurse practitioners that Emma had been working with for years, since the day she landed here as a medical intern, but despite their differences in degrees, Belle was easily the most well-read and brilliant resource when it came to medical literature in this hospital.

“Just that Mr. MacDonald is healing nicely.”

“Did you hear that Lorraine?” Earl asked, with a Cheshire cat smile on his face, and the glint of true pride in his eyes. “Doctor Emma says I’m healing nicely.”

“Hard not to hear, seeing as I’m right beside you,” Loraine quipped, but she squeezed his hand affectionately, and offered a warm smile to her husband all the same.

“You know, usually being dubbed ‘nice’ is the kiss of death for a man.”

“Earl!” Loraine chastised, clearly not liking his word choice. Earl smiled wider, looking almost boyish in his delight.

“Well, so to speak. But I was going to say that I think we can make an exception this time. I’ve never been so happy to be referred to as ‘nice’ in my life.”

“Technically Doctor Swan was referring to your vital signs, Earl,” Belle taunted from across the room, holding back a smile Emma knew she was bound to let loose soon enough.

“Aw come on, you both know I am your favorite patient. I mean I’m not exactly pressed for competition. Have you seen the people on this floor? Good grief.”

“Ignore him, ladies. He’s all talk. He hasn’t left this room since we got here,” Loraine said, rolling her eyes, as if these antics were a constant occurrence. Based on her small window of experience with Earl, Emma would believe it. “Every meal, every visit, every moment has been within these four walls. Even his PT has been in here.”

“His PT has been here?” Emma asked, surprised that Mary Margaret, their head Occupational Therapist, had allowed for that. She was normally a by-the-book professional, and Emma never knew her friend to provide rehab consults outside of her studio.

“Yup. I told Miss Mary Margaret that I had a wife to keep an eye on and she relented.”

“No, actually what you said was, ‘Excuse me, Ms. Blanchard? You probably heard I just had heart surgery. Well, the thing is, my heart is sitting in this room. I’d like to be with her. Doesn’t seem right to be separated so soon, given what we’ve been through.’ Then you pointed at me, and used your puppy dog eyes on her. Next thing I knew, she had lugged enough equipment to fill the room here. No questions, just action.”

“I bet she ate that right up,” Belle said with a wink. “Mary Margaret loves nothing more than love itself.”

Belle and Mrs. MacDonald discussed Mary Margaret’s love of love, and Earl’s improved mobility, for a few more minutes while Emma continued checking his stats, but ultimately Earl’s patience was wearing thin. He really only had one thing on his mind, and he was now determined to ask about it. Emma was honestly shocked that he managed to wait this long. She knew it was only a matter of time and she was ready for the showdown.

“So, what do you think, Doc? Am I making it home in time for the party?”

“The one for your grandson on Sunday?” she asked, noting the three-day window between now and then. She had heard about this party non-stop, since the moment Earl woke up from the procedure. It was a central fixation for the old man, a celebration that would host his entire family, and a goal he had been carrying for over a week. Earl nodded and Emma hesitated for a few seconds, before smiling and giving the good news away. “Yes, I am confident that Jayden’s ‘Pop Pops’ will be in attendance when he turns four. But you know the rules…”

“I know, I know: no good food, no strenuous exercise, no having fun.”

“Earl.” Just the utterance of the old man’s name from his wife was enough to have him looking like a kid with his hand caught in the candy jar. Emma and Belle both chuckled at that child-like expression. It was hard not to; the old married couple was just too sweet.

“I’m sorry. I know this is serious, but what is life if you can’t have a little fun?”

“Fun comes in all shapes and sizes, Mr. MacDonald, and despite what you may think about your prescribed lifestyle changes, you’re forgetting two things. First, most of these less-alluring prescriptions will be temporary, and second, you’re a man who clearly loves a challenge.”

“Oh yeah? And how do you know that, Doc?” 

“Well for one thing, you somehow landed a lady as remarkable as Loraine. There’s no way she came easy with these corny jokes of yours. You must have worked harder than you ever worked in your life to persuade her to give you a chance.”

The laughter from the older couple was boisterous and heartwarming, and Emma knew she was right on the money. At this point, she had the ability to sniff out true affection, and these two had it in spades. Many couples she saw facing emergency room disasters together didn’t have the same good luck.

“You got that right, Doc. You know the first time we met was at the -,”

Earl’s story was unceremoniously interrupted by the crackling of the PA system specific to this room. It buzzed for a few moments before a message was delivered in a saccharine sweet voice that sounded nothing like the announcer’s normal tone.

“Paging Doctor Swan to the Nurse’s station. Doctor Swan to the Nurse’s station, code 741.”

Emma waited for the feed to cut off and began to tell Earl to please go on with the story, but the call came out again.

“Paging Doctor Swan to the Nurse’s station. Doctor Swan, code 741.”

“You know she’s just going to keep doing that until she gets her way,” Belle murmured. Emma nodded. It was no use. What Ruby Lucas wanted, Ruby Lucas got. That just seemed to be the way of the world.

“Belle, would you mind telling Ruby I’m with a patient at the moment? I will be there when I can. She can always proceed without me.”

Belle snorted out a laugh, knowing that last part would never happen, but gave a swift affirmation that she would relay the message before waving goodbye to the MacDonald’s and promising to see them soon. As her friend headed out, Emma sighed, knowing there was no way Ruby was going to give things up that easily. She had a matter of moments before some new tactic would be deployed.

“I’m sorry about that. You were saying?”

“Eh it’s kind of a long story, and you’ve got places to be, Doc. Just know, true love won out in the end with me and my Loraine. It always does.”

Emma couldn’t deny that their love appeared true even after their fifty plus years together. She personally had never experienced a love like that, but she was wondering more and more if maybe it was out there, somewhere in the later chapters of her story. For years she thought herself above that kind of need. She found validation in herself and in her work. She dedicated herself to helping others, and that had always been enough. But the loneliness that became a constant when she was growing up in foster care still lingered, and she wondered if someone might ever come along who could inspire her to take a chance and risk her heart.

“You know, I actually worked as a nurse before my kids were born,” Loraine commented easily. Emma nodded and smiled as she checked the last of Mr. MacDonald’s IV drips. Emma was aware of the older woman’s solid medical understanding. Loraine had continued to demonstrate it the entire time her husband was admitted in this ward. “I’m trying to remember if I ever ran into a code 741.”

“Oh, uh, I think – well, erm, I mean you probably didn’t,” Emma said, hoping she didn’t turn beet red at the passing comment from the older woman. She was already stuttering, which was completely out of character and eighty shades of embarrassing. Loraine’s words feigned ignorance, but her eyes told a different story. Still Emma tried to play it off. “It’s really not a big deal. Just a non-emergent protocol.”

Another alert sounded, but this time it came through the ceiling unit reserved for announcements to the wider reaches of the hospital. “Attention to all surgical ward personnel. We are paging Doctor Swan to the nurse’s station. Doctor Swan, you are needed at the nurse’s station immediately for a code 741.” The talking stopped, but the air crackled signaling that the line was still live. “Immediately.”

“Sounds pretty urgent to me,” Loraine replied. The curiosity in her gaze told Emma that the older woman was onto them, but it was Earl’s comment that cut too close for comfort.

“When I was in the war, all of our numeric codes corresponded to letters. So 7 was H, 4 was D, 1 was A. H – D – A. HDA, now what could that be….?” Uh oh. Now Emma really had to get out of here before she accidentally admitted Ruby’s code’s meaning – Hot Doctor Alert. That would be the cherry on top of a full-blown mortification sundae.

“All righty, well like I told Belle, all your scans look good. Doctor Whale is on shift this evening during the next series of rounds, so I’ll make sure your file is ready for him.”

“Of course, dear, and good luck with your doctor, er – I mean – code.”

Emma stammered out something like an ‘okay thanks,’ while leaving. She tried to get her bearings once she was out of sight of the room, but she had nowhere to go. Everyone on this floor had just heard her page, and there were bound to be at least a few who understood the meaning. She was so embarrassed, and more than a little ticked at Ruby. She was supposed to be her best friend, but she was always pulling these crazy stunts. They were mostly harmless, but for Emma, who hated being the subject of hospital gossip, it was anxiety inducing to say the least.

“Please tell me that you did not just broadcast that to the entire hospital,” Emma said, arriving at the nurse’s station with a sense of urgency, and watching some of the other nurses scurry off to avoid the confrontation. Ruby, however, was unfazed. Actually, the nurse manager just rolled her eyes, grabbing her bag and phone from her cubby, as if Emma was the one who was annoying and not the other way around.

“And here I was thinking we were the best of friends. Soul sisters, kindred spirits, friends for life. But no, ye of little faith, you actually believe I would broadcast the hot doc alert to all of Mist Haven? What kind of friend would do that?”

“But if you didn’t… then how did you…?” Emma’s questions trailed off, but her arms flailed towards the ceiling and the look on her face spoke for itself – how had Ruby used the hospital wide PA system without actually broadcasting to the entire hospital?

“You know Tink up in nuero?” Emma nodded, well acquainted with the nurse manager who had Ruby’s job on the fifth floor but with a specialization of the brain and nervous system. She was a tiny woman, but she ruled that ward with more than capable hands. “She and I bribed the IT guys to make the nurse managers an override. Now we can circumvent the PA software whenever we want. Bring some of you more stubborn Doctors to heal when it comes to answering our pages.”

“That’s… well, actually that’s genius,” Emma admitted.

“I like to think so,” Ruby teased, offering a genuine smile. The two friends laughed at all of this, and Emma felt so much better knowing that their secret was still relatively secure. The last thing she wanted was everyone knowing how she was spending her lunch breaks these days.  

“Gus, you’re holding down the fort while I’m gone, right?” Ruby asked, her smile turning slightly wicked with the purposeful jest aimed at the new nursing aid sitting behind the desk.

“Me?” The new hire replied, suddenly white as a sheet. Emma had never seen the man so stricken, and as a new nurse he had plenty of high-stress moments to look alarmed during. “I – uh – well – I -,”

“It’s called comedic relief, Gus. Commonly referred to as joking. Do me a favor, learn about it by the end of shift, kay?” Ruby pivoted to the person she actually trusted to man the fort. “Thirty minutes work for you, Belle?”

“I’ve got it handled.”

“Excellent. We’ll return with a full report,” Ruby said, grabbing Emma’s arm and moving them down the hallway before Emma could even say goodbye. “Newbies – can’t live with them, can’t pawn off scut work without them.”

“You are terrible. And yet… the look on his face just now…? Priceless,” Emma acquiesced. “But seriously, Ruby, can we PLEASE find another way to page me for this? My patients are not stupid, and the code isn’t exactly original. It’s kind of…” Ruby’s grin was so big that it stopped Emma in her tracks. She was currently trying to hold her friend to account, but Ruby looked like she’d won the lottery. “What?”

“You are so totally into him! I mean listen to you right now.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Emma said, feeling her cheeks flush against her will. 

“Exactly,” Ruby said. “You’re telling me to be more discreet when I send the bat signal, but you still want me to send it. Do you realize how unlike you that is?”

“Despite what you may think, Ruby. I’m a doctor, I’m not dead. I can appreciate a hot guy now and again.”

“Doubtful. Remember last month when all those pro hockey players were here after Ocheski collapsed on the ice? You had a room full of crazy sexy men. Like virile, hot, muscled men who get paid big money to beat each other up on the ice. Most women would die for that chance, and to make it even better, most of them were hitting on you. And what did you do? Nothing. You didn’t even blink.”

“They were not hitting on me,” Emma affirmed, but the words were hollow. They had been trying to flirt with her. A few had even attempted to get her number.

“They were hitting on you,” Ruby said adamantly.  

“He was a patient, and the rest of them were essentially his family. You know I’d never cross that line. Doesn’t count.”

“Fine, then what about Dr. King? When he came for that conjoined twins case last year, you had no interest. Zero. Zilch.”

“King was an asshole, you know that,” Emma said, belatedly catching her use of profanity and checking that no patients were around. Luckily the coast was clear.

“So? You didn’t have to marry the guy. Hot is hot, honey. That’s just how things are.” 

Emma barked out a laugh at even the thought of marrying someone like that. Arthur King was just about the worst person she could fathom to spend a life with. He was narcissistic and carrying around one of the biggest god-complexes she’d ever seen, and she was a surgeon, so she was an expert on god-complexes. 

“Your face really says it all, Emma. I mean honestly, poker would be a terrible game for you to take up. Your contempt for King is obvious, but, meanwhile, as soon as I mention Doctor Jones… aha! See, totally shifted.”

Emma didn’t know what to say to that. She could try and protest, but her friend knew her too well for that. The best thing to do was say nothing, and she was saved by their arrival at their destination. The coffee cart in the center of the action, near the entrance of Mist Haven. Here was where the wards crossed paths. Her surgical wing met up with the specialties departments, the ER, the community clinic, and more. It was also swarmed with both hospital workers and visitors. Typically, this was the last place she wanted to be, but recently it had become a highlight of her day.

“Emma? Ruby? What’s brought you out here?” a voice asked. It was Mary Margaret, and given her street clothes and jacket, Emma would guess she was just starting her shift.

“Haven’t you heard? There’s fresh meat from the ER. Two showings a day, but we favor the afternoon delight.”

“Oh right,” Mary Margaret said, nodding, like Ruby’s words were totally normal, and for Ruby they were. “I heard about the new ER Chief. Doctor Nolan? I meant to get down there and bring him something to welcome him, but I’ve been so swamped this week. My caseload is crazy at the moment. I hope he won’t think too badly of me for being a bit late.”

“Mary Margaret, literally no one in a hospital brings people cupcakes as a welcome gift, especially not new guys in other departments.” Ruby was not wrong. Hospitals were hardly the most happy-go-lucky of places. At least not usually. “Believe me, the man will be grateful whenever they come. If he even eats them. He’s fit – like fit, fit. Keto diet and a personal trainer fit. The kind of fit that makes you -,”

“Careful, Ruby,” Emma teased. “What if Graham heard you saying that?”

“God, I wish. You know how worked up he gets, and how he works out his frustrations.” Ruby’s tone was dripping in suggestion. “It’s one of the many reasons I live to drive him crazy.”

Emma and Mary Margaret laughed at Ruby’s apt assessment of her relationship with her boyfriend. Ruby had been dating the fireman for almost a year now, since he came in on one of the ambulance bays with a victim he’d rescued from a fire, but Ruby was hardly the predictable type, and Graham seemed to love that about her. They were still going strong despite her willful, wild child nature, and Emma suspected they may be built to last.

“Doctor Nolan must really be something to get you out here, Emma,” Mary Margaret said, moving forward in the line, inching ever closer to the mediocre coffee the cart promised.  

“Ha! Hardly. Emma’s not here for Nolan. She’s here for Jones.”

“Jones?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Girl, where have you been? Doctor Killian Jones, trauma surgeon extraordinaire. Chief Mills brought him here for a ‘collaboration’ with the ER, but she’s totally trying to recruit him for head of his own department. Turns out he and David Nolan are old friends. Same medical school maybe? I don’t know, no one’s gotten me those details yet. Anyway, Regina hardly leaves him alone. She only misses this little window because she’s hooking up with Doctor Locksley in the supply room on the 2nd floor.”

“She’s WHAT?!” Emma and Mary Margaret yelled at the same time and Ruby looked aghast for the first time today. Some other hospital staff in the area glanced over, but no one paid much mind beyond a head nod. Everyone was absorbed in their own need for caffeine, and no one was the wiser of the bombshell Ruby had just dropped.

“Oh shoot, I wasn’t supposed to say that. I promised Ella, damn it!”

“Ella, her assistant? I thought she quit,” Mary Margaret stage whispered.

“Oh she did. Made it a whole two months, which, you know, makes sense given the fact that Regina is a nightmare. But the last week she was here, she learned a crucial secret regarding her Majesty. She spilled last week at The White Rabbit, but I promised her I wouldn’t tell until she’s settled at her new job at GMH. So you did not hear this from me, and I did not hear this from her, capische?”

“I can’t believe the Evil Queen is dating someone,” Mary Margaret said, deeply disturbed by the idea. She shuddered at the thought, and this was someone who loved love. But love and Regina Mills didn’t really feel like concepts that belonged in the same sentence. Scratch that, they didn’t really even belong in the same book. “She’s just so…”

“Evil?” Emma responded. The nickname worked for a reason, after all. The hospital Chief was downright tyrannical.

“Exactly.”

“Well dating is a stretch. She’s screwing someone. But then again, who knows. Ella said she actually saw her smiling in those final days. And not that evil one she’s famous for. Like a real, genuine, I have a heart, smile.”

“No way,” Emma said at the same time Mary Margaret murmured, “Well would you look at that.”

“Don’t worry. I’m on the case. The temp is a totally easy mark – Sydney something. I’m buying him lunch tomorrow. I’ll have the whole story before you know it.”

“Won’t Graham be proud,” Emma chuckled, but her joke fell on deaf ears as something caught Ruby’s attention across the way. Her friend’s countenance changed immediately, putting Emma on alert.

“Ooh, they’re coming! Act normal.”

Normally, Emma would have laughed at that command, but she was too busy feeling the spike of adrenaline at the impending arrival of one Doctor Killian Jones. He really was a world-renowned trauma surgeon, who was working on a number of cutting-edge techniques that saved lives and gave critical care patients better chances to recover. She had actually heard of him a few years ago when reading about a new procedure to treat arrhythmia in patients with traumatic injury. He engineered it in the field, while serving in the British naval forces, and his paper had been circulating in cardiac wings around the country, but she never saw the man before last week when he arrived in Boston.  Suffice it to say she could not have imagined that this marvel of modern medicine would also be so roguishly handsome.

Spotting him today across the great hall, Emma was struck again by just how attractive this man was. She couldn’t even comprehend it really. All she knew was that she had yet to find a fault in him. Every day she’d stolen secret glances, and every time he proved better than her memory. It was crazy, and very reminiscent of schoolgirl crushes and teenage day dreams, but she couldn’t help the way she felt. It was intoxicating, and despite her best efforts, she was powerless to turn Ruby’s invites to the show down when she could witness this each and every day.

The first thing that she’d noticed about him was his general presence. His posture was strong and straight and assured. He looked ready for anything, but somehow laid back, like he was totally in control. People naturally parted when he walked by, as if he silently willed the flow of the hospital traffic. Ruby called it swagger. Emma called it… well something not quite safe for work. Couple that general aura of authority with the classically gorgeous features of his face, and Emma was lost. On that first day (and okay, maybe on the others as well), she actually felt her knees get weak. She always thought that was a bogus cliché, but nope, it was real, and she was the proof of it. From there she was hooked, and over time she’d chronicled more and more things to like about him.

Yesterday it had been his hair. As she watched him across the atrium, she noticed that the shade shone bright in the sun, but that it was nearer to midnight than any color brown. It was slightly longer than most of the other male doctors wore theirs, but not so long that it looked unkempt or unprofessional, at least not yet. She knew for a fact that the military never would allow for such a style, and it felt like a bit of rebellion, or maybe a lack of care for what others thought. Both sent a delicious thrill through Emma, even though she had no real confirmation one way or another. Maybe he was just lazy, but that wasn’t how she imagined him…

And oh boy did she imagine him. At first she hadn’t meant to. She just had these flashbacks to seeing him that she carried through the day. These visceral visions always started the same: he would walk by, looking downright delicious and impossible to resist, then he would turn his eyes her way here in the middle of the hospital hustle and bustle. She’d feel caught in his stare, sense the hunger even from the distance, and her heart would quicken to a maddening crescendo as he walked her way. The rest of the world would fade from view, and it would feel like they were the only two people alive. Her gaze would stay transfixed on his almost cocky composure and the hard line of his bearded jaw. The attraction in his blue eyes would light a fire in her, and then, without so much as a word like ‘hello’ or ‘nice to meet you,’ he’d pull her into his embrace and kiss her senseless. She could practically taste him on her tongue, and yet she’d never even heard him speak. People who had, who were later interrogated by Ruby, mentioned that he had an accent. British or Irish, or something along those lines. That tidbit had played oh so sweetly in Emma’s mind this week. God, she’d love to hear him say her name -,

“Emma,” a voice beside her said, but it didn’t pull her out of the fog. “Oh my God, Emma, he’s looking right at you.”

“He’s what?” Emma said, blinking back to reality before finding that Doctor Jones was looking this way. She’d been so busy fantasizing, she stopped paying attention to what was right in front of her.

In the middle of the room, the man who had intrigued her for over a week was standing totally still, disregarding the swarm of people on all sides. His entire attention had shifted from the task ahead of him, and he was looking at her, staring with a blend of intrigue and something Emma couldn’t describe. Doctor Nolan had stopped as well, but he was clearly confused as to the delay. He seemed to ask his friend what was wrong, and Emma watched spell bound, as the lips she’d envisioned kissing her moved in some kind of unheard reply. She couldn’t make out his words, but she shivered at the passion and determination etched across his being. David then looked their way, and Emma knew that Doctor Jones – Killian - had asked about them. No, forget that, he had asked about her. He was looking right at her, and that spark of heat and desire she’d always imagined was nowhere near as tantalizing as the real thing. He was looking at her with the same hunger she’d reserved for her wildest imaginings. Holy crap, what was she going to do?

“Ruby?” she asked, her voice squeaked out in alarm. She tore her gaze from the approaching object of her desire and looked to her best friend with overt confusion and mild panic.

“Took him long enough to spot you. It’s been almost a week. I thought I was going to have to hire a marching band or one of those giant arrow guys they have at outlet malls.”

Emma didn’t understand, and then it dawned on her – her friend had planned this. Emma looked at Mary Margaret, but she was still staring in the distance. Only when Emma followed her gaze did she realize that Mary Margaret wasn’t looking at Killian. She was looking at David.

“Hey, ladies, you looking to order, or what? I ain’t got all day!”

The three of them jumped at the barista’s interruption and Mary Margaret surged ahead to the line. She rattled off an order, giving way too much money to the attendant while grabbing her cup with shaky hands. Then she looked at David and back to Emma with an expression that said Mary Margaret may just bolt. Ok, what the actual hell was going on?

Before she could begin to answer that internal question, Doctor Jones and Doctor Nolan were within ear shot. Emma wracked her brain for something to say when they finally got here, but was spared when David broke the ice.

“Doctor Swan,” he said with a head nod and a polite smile. They knew each other peripherally at this point. Emma had consulted on numerous ER cases since Doctor Nolan started his new position. But she wouldn’t call them friends. They were very much acquaintances. “I heard Earl MacDonald is recovering nicely. He most definitely has you to thank for that.”

“And you too,” she said, offering credit where it was due. “A quick diagnosis makes all the difference. I’ve noticed the ER is filled with them since you started.”

“That’s kind of you. I don’t believe you’ve met my friend, Doctor Jones.”

“Killian,” Doctor Jones said immediately, before offering a heart stopping smile of his own. Emma had yet to see the man smile, and her heart skipped a beat, the rhythm of her pulse skittering in an almost blissful way. “A pleasure to meet you, Swan.”

He offered his hand to her, and Emma took it, shaking in greeting even though it was uncommon for doctors or nursing staff to do so. Chief Mills stressed that germ management was a top priority at Mist Haven, and she’d come as close to banning the practice as was legal in the state of Massachusetts. Usually Emma didn’t mind, but germs were the farthest thing from her radar when their fingers touched. Instead, Emma was filled with the zapping sense of promise and a thrill of warmth that made her head swim.

“Emma,” she whispered. A beat passed between them, and Emma lost herself for too long. Only the clearing of a throat beside them brought her back to the moment. She let go of his hand, but tracked the slight disappointment on his face when she did. It filled her with a rush of something long forgotten. A sense of peace and elation she hadn’t tasted in years. “Um these are my friends, Ruby Lucas and Mary Margaret Blanchard. Ruby’s the head nurse in the cardiac unit. And Mary Margaret runs OT for the surgical division.”

Emma tore her gaze from Killian, watching her friends make their greetings. Ruby handled her own completely, and Mary Margaret seemed to have gathered her courage, but now it was David who looked shocked and spell bound. Everyone appeared to be thrown off kilter, and it was only Ruby in control of herself. To say her friend was positively delighted with these new developments would be an understatement. That glee rang out clear as day in her invite to both the attending doctors.

“So… Doctor Nolan, Doctor Jones, any way we could convince you to join us? The coffee’s just all right, but the company’s not half bad.”

Both men agreed immediately, and Emma fought her hardest not to blush. It was hard though, and her pulse was racing in the face of this development. Killian came to stand by her, the space between them so small but still too much to bear. She tried to get her bearings as the cranky barista handed her a latte. She struggled to think of something – anything – to say, but she was tongue tied. Instead, she looked at Killian, finding an openness in his expression that said he felt the same exact way. That gave her comfort and removed some of the tension from the moment.

“The hospital’s been buzzing since you got here,” Emma offered, waiting with him while he ordered a no nonsense coffee of his own. “A lot of people are hoping you’ll stay on past the month.”

“And you, love? Have you such hopes?” his words were earnest but laced with an almost cocky easiness that sent Emma’s mind humming in delight. Still, she played it cool. At least she hoped she did.

“Jury’s still out,” she replied, smiling when he looked a little crestfallen. “Well can you blame me? I hardly even know you. Still haven’t seen what you’re capable of.”

“Only a matter of time, Swan. You can trust in that.”

His words may seem benign, but they were loaded with hidden meaning, and Emma knew he meant each one. She swallowed harshly, thinking of the things he might be capable of. Damn, was it hot in here? Or was it just the devil on her shoulder spinning another one of those dirty dreams of hers?

When they’d all gotten a coffee, the five of them moved off to the patio just outside, reserved for hospital staff. The grounds were manicured beautifully, maintaining an oasis that seemed totally disconnected from the hectic nature of the hospital. This was one of Emma’s favorite places here, and she was surprised to hear that neither David nor Killian had been here yet. They all spent a few minutes making non-threatening small talk, with mostly Ruby moving the conversations along. But despite the fluttering feeling she was grappling with, Emma couldn’t say she hated this building anticipation. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had enjoyed herself so much. She was seated next to Killian, fully aware that all of his attention was devoted to her, and she reveled in it. At one point, while the others were talking about something with the OT department, Killian whispered to her and her alone.

“This might be presumptuous of me, love, but I find I’m helpless to resist. I was wondering – that is, I was hoping that perhaps, you and I, we could…” His eyes looked from hers down to her lips, and Emma wet them absentmindedly. She heard a low growl, and realized it was coming from him. She shifted in her seat, turned on in a way she had never been before. Instinctively she moved closer, sensing the sinfully sweet current between them, like lightning just before it cracked across the summer sky.

“We could…” she continued, hoping he would elaborate and put into words what she herself was wishing for.

“That we could -,”

“Paging all staff to the ER. All staff to the ER for an incoming trauma, category 4.”

This time the PA was most definitely broadcasting a hospital wide announcement, and the irony wasn’t lost on Emma. Ruby looked positively forlorn at the interruption, but it was somewhat poetic after how they’d gotten here.

“Category four,” David repeated, standing immediately, prompting all of them to do the same. “We haven’t had a four since I started. We’re gonna need all hands on deck. Killian?”

“Aye, mate. I’m with you.” He looked back to Emma, and only had time for the swiftest goodbye. “Until next time, love.”

Emma and her friends watched them go, running towards the ER. Belatedly, they realized that if a trauma of that magnitude was coming into the hospital, there were bound to be surgical cases flooding their ward soon enough. They hustled back to their wing, focused once more on their jobs and the lives on the line that they were sworn to help heal and make better. But Emma still carried that moment with her for the rest of the day, and when the shift was over and done, and she’d done all she could to help the people in her care, she was left wondering what exactly Doctor Jones was hoping to ask, and when, oh when, he may try to do so again.

Post-Note: So there we have it. This was originally going to be a oneshot for my CS mixtape series, but alas, the muse wants what she wants, and this time that’s a three part mini-story for all of us to share. Hope that you guys have enjoyed so far and I would love to hear what you think! As always, thanks so much for reading, and I hope you are all staying well in this crazy time! xE

[straight-outta-kaer-morhen]

Scars <Eskel Soulmate AU>

Request from AO3: "Could you so an Eskel/reader with a soulmate AU? Maybe where soulmates have the same scars. Pretty please?"

Sorry it took so long. This fic has been sitting finished for several months, but I couldn't decide if I liked it enough to post. I've never done a soulmate AU, so this was a fun challenge! Anyways, I hope you enjoy! :D

As always, requests are open

Her claws wracked the side of his face. He'd been trying to avoid this meeting, but fate seemed to always have it's way. He was a fool for invoking the law of surprise all those years ago, and an even bigger fool for running from fate.

Looking up at the young girl, he had nothing in his heart but hate. The way she glowered at him he had no doubts she returned his sentiments.

• •• • A cry escaped her as flesh tore. Her hands shot out to grab her cheek. Blood ran freely down her jaw covering her neck. Horrified at the sight of crimson she helplessly tried to staunch the blood flow. The mage in front of her had his back pressed against the wall. Nothing but horror filled his eyes. This was not how the negotiations with Kaedwen were supposed to go. By the look on his face he hadn't attacked her, or cursed her. He fled the room as the pain seared across her cheek.

At some point she recalled being taken to a nurse for treatment, who was only able to bandage the wound, and send the sorceress on her way.

None of the healers could speed up the process of healing. The wound seemed to be healing on its own time. When it finally did heal, she was left with several jagged scars that even ran down her lips. When she looked in the mirror she was horrified by what she saw.

She seeked out Yennefer of Vengerberg’s powers. If anyone could heal the scars it was her. Very few were close to equal with Yennefer’s abilities.

"I cannot fix this." Yennefer declared, her eyes filling with pity. "This is the mark of a soulmate...and nothing can change fate."

"You were so beautiful." Kiera Metz's voice came softly. Y/N could not fathom the pity filled look she received. Her reflection showed several claw mark's adorned her face. They were raised and red.

Beauty wasn't everything she tried to tell herself, but she knew finding a lover would be impossible. Even her so-called soulmate would want nothing to do with her.

Yennefer gripped her shoulder, "beauty isn't everything."

• •• • "What happened to her?" Geralt inquired, his cat eyes falling on the familiar scars that adorned her face.

"It's a sad story." Triss sighed. "She used to have a beautiful face." Triss began, "the kind of face that makes king's launch wars over."

"Prettier than Yen?"

Triss nodded, "she had a softness, a warmth that Yennefer lacked. It drove men absolutely mad." She mused. "One day during negotiations, her face just tore open. It was the damndest thing."

"When?" Geralt inquired, observing the (h/c).

Triss tapped her chin recounting the years, "it had to have been about 20 years ago...give or take a few years."

"Hmmm." Geralt said, catching the woman's (e/c) eyes. She offered him a soft smile from across the room. He gave her a nod, his eyes tracing the scars that lined her lip. They were uncanny to Eskel's.

"No mage or sorceress could heal her." Triss added. "Apparently soulmate scars work differently, it's a power we know little of."

"Soulmate scars? I thought that was an old wives tale." Geralt asked, startled.

"So did I, but the circumstances of how she acquired them...well there is no other explanation for it." She said with a shrug as she took a sip of wine. "I spoke with the mage that witnessed it. His account was hard to discredit."

"The amount of scars a Witcher acquires, well it's hard to put much stock in the idea." Geralt said, taking another drink of his ale.

Triss waved the woman over, "whatever man acquired those, it must have been hell for him from what Y/N described."

"Y/N, this is Geralt." Triss introduced, "he's taken an interest in your scars." She said leaving the two to get acquainted

Her hand immediately shot up to her face covering the scars. "Forgive me for prying," Geralt began, "I have a friend who has similar scars."

Y/N's eyebrows raised, "is he a Witcher too?"

Geralt nodded, "sounds like he got those scars around the time you did."

"That would explain the pain…" Y/N mumbled, sitting at the table. "I'm very sorry for your friend, I know how he feels." She began a small frown pulling at her face. "No matter how kind you are, people tend to avoid things they can't explain."

"Well, I have reason to believe he may be the answer to those scars."

She shook her head, "even so he wouldn't want to see me." (E/c) eyes flickered up at his feline gaze. "I know exactly how I look Geralt. Kings stopped requesting my presence as soon as they saw my face, the lodge will not send me out diplomatically in case another scar decides to show up." Her jaw was set, "I'm quite positive your Witcher friend would not care to see me."

Geralt nodded, "if you change your mind let me know."

• •• •

Winters were perfect for catching up with his brother in arms. Geralt had debated keeping the scarred woman's existence a secret, but ultimately he decided that it was Eskel who should decide.

He broke the news a few weeks into their stay. He'd made sure Vesemir was in the room. If anyone would have more knowledge on the subjects of soulmates it would be the old Witcher.

"I met a sorceress this past fall." Geralt began, soliciting a scoff from Vesemir.

"Did you bed her too?" The grey haired man asked. Soliciting a soft smile from Eskel as he turned the page of his book.

"No, but she had some interesting scars." Geralt commented.

Eskel's eyes shot up, his hand automatically scratching at the scars that lined his lips. "A sorceress who chose not to have them healed? That's unheard of. They tend to be a vain bunch." Vesemir said thoughtfully.

"They tried, but scars involving soulmates is another thing." Geralt peaked up at Eskel to gage his reaction. The Witcher had stiffened, listening intently.

"Soulmates," Vesemir mused. "That is a very rare phenomenon. I can't say I've ever heard of two soulmates actually finding each other."

"Hmm, I saw the scars with my own eyes. Three claw marks on the side of the jaw." Eskel dropped his book.

"Appeared out of nowhere about twenty years ago." Geralt added. "If I hadn't been mistaken by the pair of tits I would have thought it was Eskel."

Eskel's cleared his throat, "it's a coincidence."

"Maybe, but I don't think so."

"Perhaps it's fate forcing you to make things right?" Vesemir in his infinite wisdom had a point. Much to Eskel's dismay.

"If it's fate we'll run into each other." Eskel dismissed.

"Eskel, you can't outrun fate." Vesemir began, "look what happened to you last time."

Geralt sighed, "I didn't tell you this to feel trapped by fate. I thought you had a right to know, I also think you have a right to tell destiny to fuck off if you want."

Eskel seemed to relax a bit, "was she attractive?"

Geralt nodded, "scars and all. Triss says she was once prettier than Yen." He hesitated, "there is something else you should know…"

Eskel leaned forward curiosity getting the better of him.

"She doesn't think you'd wish to see her."

A frown pulled at the dark haired Witcher's lips. He knew all too well what it was like to carry those scars.

Eskel had once been considered a handsome man. He'd never had a hard time finding a lover, and people used to be friendlier. After he acquired the scars, brothels were the only place he could find pleasure, the contracts he took the people looked on him as if he were a feral beast.

"Go talk to her." Lambert's voice echoed through the hall.

"What have I told you about eavesdropping?" Vesemir asked, turning to the youngest Witcher.

"Ah, can it old man." Lambert said, waving him off. "You're always saying you want a lover. If she really is your soulmate, even she can't turn you down."

That was just like Lambert, to throw his opinion out there regardless if it was welcome or not. "I thought you opposed Geralt bringing visitors to Kaer Morhen. You really want me to bring someone too?"

"If it’ll get you laid, I’m willing to take one for the team."

Vesemir rubbed his temples, no one could get on his nerves like the younger Witcher. Bold and brash, Lambert had a tendency to speak without thinking things through. It seemed the mutations could not quell the passion for living that burned inside.

“You have time. Destiny can wait.” Geralt said downing the rest of his ale. “Think on it.” He said, patting Eskel’s shoulder before heading upstairs for the evening.

Vesemir and Lambert were quick to follow, leaving Eskel alone with his thoughts. He turned to the many shelves that lined the wall. The bookshelves had been moved years ago when the library had decayed enough that Vesemir didn't trust it to house his precious tomes. If anyone were to have a book on the subject of soulmates, it would be the old man.

The book was thin and covered in years of dust. Eskel brushed the cover off. The letters had worn off, but the faint engraving of the title could be seen, Love Potions, Relationships, and Soul Mates. Eskel flipped to the title page, how to tell if they're the one, potions to make them fall in love, and tips turning that crush into love.

A small chuckle escaped Eskel's lips. He wondered when the old Witcher had picked this up, and who he was trying to woo. The table of contents indicated the chapter on soulmates started on page 69.

"Soulmates were fated by the gods. The oldest known magic, but very little have studied it. Soulmates could be confirmed by matching scars. It has been speculated that when one soul receives the mark their kindred soul receives it as well.

It is unknown why the other soul experiences the same wound, and pain. Some scholars assume it is to bound the two souls in a mutual understanding.

Soulmate bonds used to be very common, but the emergence of alchemy, and sorcery has made the magic almost extinct.

Soulmate bonds typically occur during strange phenomenons such as blood moons, eclipses, solstices, etc.

There have been instances where soulmates have argued that they were fated to meet.”

Eskel flipped the page, but the next chapter was regarding a love potion. He took care placing the book back on the shelf.

He let his mind wander as he trudged up the stairs to his room. Having someone to hold on nights like this wouldn't be unwelcome.

The room was silent, the fire had turned to embers. He threw another log on coaxing it back to life with Igni. The only thing in the room that indicated someone lived in it were stacks of books, and his weapons laid on a long, narrow table.

He toed off his boots and sat on the edge of the low bed. He wanted to laugh at Geralt for suggesting such an idea. He wanted to tell Vesemir that destiny could go to hell. He wanted Lambert to realize that no one would ever want him, but most of all he wanted it to be true.

Of course he wanted someone to love him, but how the hell could he accept a love like that? If he couldn't love the scars on his face how could he expect someone else to? The questions raised in his mind, but Lambert's voice rang in the back of his mind if she is your soulmate, even she can't turn you down. Perhaps that was the ember that sparked hope in his heart.

• •• •

The lodge trusted her with an alchemy shop. It seemed even she couldn't fuck that up. The once brilliant negotiator was now grinding, mixing and drying herbs. The shop bell jingled indicating a customer. "I'll be with you in a moment."

"Take your time."

She dried her hands on her apron, as she turned to face the deep voice. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. The scars that lined his lips were identical to hers.

"I'm sorry. This is my fault." He began as her hand shot up to cover the scars.

"I told Geralt you wouldn't want to see me." She said turning away from the dark haired Witcher.

He was quick to reach out to her, "no you're beautiful...no beautiful isn't the right word..it's not enough to describe you." Eskel breathed taking in her soft (e/c) eyes. "A choice I made hurt you." Eskel's voice was thick with shame, "and you've had to live with that."

She took him in, and her fingers traced the scars that lined his face. "Perhaps it's not all bad."

Eskel's heart fluttered at the prospect. She had yet to turn him away, and he dared to let his heart hope.

"These scars led me to you."

[imagine-that]

Agressive

Warnings: fluff, mild swearing, Peter Parker being more lovable and adorable than humanly possible

Pairing: Peter Parker x Rogers!Reader

AN: hey look, it’s Peter Parker word vomit round two!! I love most of this but Idk what I was thinking with that ending 😬🤦‍♀️ maybe you guys’ll like it though?? I guess I’ll have to wait and see. Also can you tell I’ve fallen in love with Peter? Because I definitely have.

With a deep breath you take one last punch at the bag in front of you, watching calmly as it goes flying across the gym.

“Woah!” A voice from behind you says, causing you to spin around.

“S-sorry! It’s just... that was.... that was so cool.” The boy says sheepishly.

“Yeah superhuman serum can usually make a person capable of stuff that others deem cool.” You say, unfazed by the look of pure amazement.

“Yeah that’s um... that’s true.” He stutters, his face going a bright red.

“Who are you exactly?” You ask bluntly, pulling off the mitts on your hands and grabbing your water bottle.

“Oh, I’m uh... I’m Peter. Interning for Mr Stark.” He explains nervously.

You squint at him, trying to figure out where you may recognize him from.

“He’s also Spider-Man.” Tony says as he passes by briskly.

“Mr Stark!” The boy groans, looking at him desperately. Tony merely shrugs as a response before being back on his way.

“Ok well I’m done here so I’ll be going.” You mutter, putting your fighting equipment back where you’d found it all. You grab the punching bag from the floor, hanging it back up with ease.

“I-I’m sorry? Is everything ok?” Peter asks, looking really confused.

You let out a sigh, finally looking over at him. “Look, you seem like an ok guy but the fact is, you’re one of the people who helped drive my dad out of the country so I’m not interested in making nice, alright?” You explain, walking around him towards the door.

“Don’t mind Capsicle junior, she’s/he’s/they’re hostile with everyone.” Tony says to Peter as he comes back into the room.

“Heard that.” You call over your shoulder.

“Not my fault it’s true.” Tony says with a shrug.

“Whatever tinman. If you talk to my dad anytime soon, can you just tell him how much a kid’s social life tanks when their parent is a wanted fugitive?” You ask as you pull one of your dads disguise caps over your hair.

You didn’t get to go on many missions and you never went undercover but you often used to take your dads hats when you were younger and he eventually just stopped protesting and let you take them as long as they were returned eventually. Now, it seemed they were all yours.

“If I talk to him, I’ll let him know.” He agrees.

“No, not if. When!” You correct.

You’d always been more optimistic than most but since your dad had fled the country, it’d become a rare sight which is why Tony was surprised at the statement.

“Alright, when.” He says with a small smile and you nod before making your way out the door, barely noticing the eyes on you the entire time.

—————————————————————

As a car pulled up to the curb outside your school, you raised a brow at the driver before getting in.

“Nat? I thought you were on another mission off in the world somewhere?” You ask as you buckle your seatbelt.

“I was but then someone dragged me back so there was someone to keep you out of trouble.” She says with a smile.

“I’m guessing Tinman is that someone?” You ask and you groan as she nods.

“You know what happened the last time he was gone. He came back to find you completely drunk after some party.” She shrugs and you sigh, watching out the window wordlessly.

“The last time he was gone, he was going after my dad.” You point out.

“I know you miss Steve y/n. But you have to try to control your anger. No one wants you ending up in one of those cells like Wanda, Sam and everyone else.” She explains.

“At least then I wouldn’t have to listen to people call my dad a criminal.” You fire back.

“Oh forgot to mention but there’s a teenage boy in the backseat.” Nat says casually and you whip your head around to see Peter.

“Nat! You couldn’t have said something when I got in?” You grumble.

She gives you a small shrug. “Figured you would’ve noticed. You ought to train with me more, you’ll be more attentive to detail.” She says.

“Of course. Will do.” You mutter sarcastically, cursing a bit under your breath.

“Hi!” Peter says quickly, obviously very nervous.

“...hi.” You say hesitantly, peering over the headrest to see him and ignoring the little bit of butterflies you feel unexpectedly in seeing him in normal everyday clothing instead of his suit.

“I uh... I’m Peter.” He says awkwardly.

You roll your eyes a bit, a lighthearted smile on your face. “Yeah, I remember. We met like a month ago I think.” You remind him, obviously amused.

“Right...” he sighs, clearly cursing himself quietly.

You’d seen Peter around a few times actually, at Stark industries events and around the Tower and such. You’d basically avoided the boy at every possible interaction, not wanting to be anywhere near him. You’d gone as far as avoiding the gym completely for over a week, worried he might go through there to get to Tony’s lab.

The rest of the ride is spent in silence, you gaining the odd grin from Natasha when she sees you looking back at Peter in the mirror every now and then and you immediately avoiding the view afterwards.

It wasn’t as though you liked Peter. You couldn’t. It was a nearly impossible idea to even think of liking him. You didn’t know a single thing about him. You were still mad about everything that had gone on at the airport.

But you couldn’t say that he didn’t intrigue you. At least not without it being a flat out lie.

Once back to the tower, you quickly scramble out of the car, hiking your backpack over one shoulder as you rush into the building with your head down.

To your surprise, you hear the slapping of the bottom of shoes coming up behind you quickly.

“Sorry, I just... I- can we talk?” Peter asks, searching your eyes desperately for a way to read you or see at least a fragment of what you felt.

You could tell that’s what he was doing. It didn’t much affect you, having been trained to lie by Black Widow herself at a young age. You were quick to put up your defences at any sign of emotional situations which was why everyone resorted to calling you cold and distant. Especially since Steve was gone.

You nod, motioning wordlessly for him to go on.

“Well, I just uh... I just wanted to y’know, check on you. I um... I know our first meeting was a little... rough.” He explains and you sigh, relaxing your shoulders a bit to show a sign of less hostility.

“Look, I don’t hate you or anything if that’s what you’re worried about. I know being offered the opportunity to work with the great and mighty Tony Stark was probably too tempting to turn down.” You mutter sarcastically. “I’m just going through some stuff right now and you being the guy who basically almost got my dad caught isn’t helping matters.” You explain, running a tired hand through your y/h/c hair.

“Oh! That’s actually not what I meant. I can see why you’d not really like me right now.” He says with an awkward smile.

“So what are you talking about then?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Well, you’re a kid with superpowers for one. I can kind of relate to that.” He says with a laugh, making you smile a bit. “And your dad is captain America. That must be pretty cool.” He adds.

You laugh a bit, remembering bits and pieces of your moments with your dad. “Yeah... except when you get lectured for having detention by your dad in front of everyone at school.” You say playfully.

“Oh god, I forgot about that video.” Peter says, cracking up a bit.

“You don’t have a reason to hate it as much as me! I had to listen to it and then my dad lectured me about it when I got home. And so did aunt Nat, uncle Bucky and aunt Wanda.” You point out, your smile slightly faltering at the memories.

Peter is smiling but when he looks at you and notices the sad expression on your face, his smile falls even faster than yours had.

“Are... are you ok?” He asks hesitantly, head tilted in concern.

You sniffle a bit, annoyed at your sudden sign of weakness.

“I’m fine. I just... miss them.” You say with a shrug. You laugh awkwardly, wiping the tears from the corners of your eyes. “I’m a mess, don’t worry I know.” You add.

“You have a reason to be though.” Peter assures you nervously.

You laugh, a bitter and off sound leaving your mouth.

“That’s not what people at school think. You’d be surprised at how fast people will literally boo you during gym class when your dad pops up in a video to explain simple health or weight training or whatever. Or how quick they’ll be to shun you. They all think I’m hiding him, harbouring a fugitive.” You mutter, staring down at Peters shoes to distract yourself.

You shake your head a bit, trying to clear your thoughts.

“My dad is off risking his life and he still protected me from everything that happened so far. The absolute least I can do is to stop being pathetic and moping about it.” You mumble with a sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose tiredly.

Without warning, Peters open palm is against your back, moving in soothing circles over and over. To your own surprise, you don’t flinch away from the contact. You instead choose to embrace it, taking deep breaths to keep yourself calm.

“Thank you.” You murmur as you feel him pulling you into his chest a bit. You hesitate for a moment but ultimately decide it’s alright for you to let your head fall onto his chest, almost nuzzling it into his shirt.

You can feel him tense up in surprise, almost pulling away awkwardly.

Immediately, you straighten your posture from your previously slouched figure, back on high alert and embarrassed by your show of vulnerability.

“I’m sorry. Basket case, I warned you.” You say quickly, forcing a laugh as you point an index finger at yourself.

“Er... yeah...” He stutters with a tight lipped smile, causing you to nervously bite your lip.

“Excuse me.” You sigh, running off into the gym again, leaving Peter standing alone in the hall. Or so he thought.

“Well that was... strange...” Tony says, watching the space you’d just left with a perplexed look on his face.

Peter jumped a little bit, immediately standing with near perfect posture.

“Yeah- Yeah very strange mr stark.” He agrees.

Tony looks at him with a cocky grin.

“Kid, do you even know what makes that whole interaction strange?” He questions, leaning against the doorframe.

“Well no-“ Peter begins quickly and Tony holds up a hand to stop him before he gets the chance to yammer any longer.

“Well underoos, it’s incredibly strange because not once have I ever seen junior be in any way vulnerable with anyone before. At least no one outside of the Avengers.” He explains. “And the first time I see it, it’s with you, who she/he/they knows absolutely nothing about.” He adds when he notices the look of pure confusion on Peters face.

“Well it might just be because I was here. Or because I was being nice or...” Peter begins rambling, looking for any valid reasons you may have looked for comfort from him of all people.

Tony stops listening after a while and when Peter finally stops to breath, he puts a hand on his shoulder calmly.

“Kid, she/he/they is right in there. And she/he/they isn’t just nice to anyone for no reason.” He begins slowly as though talking to a child. “Go ask her/him/them yourself.” He says, giving Peter a gentle shove towards the doors to the gym.

Hesitantly, Peter pushes the door open and slips through, gulping a bit as he walks in to find you in the same place you were when the two of you had met.

As he notices you turning around at the sound of his entrance, his nerves take over and he finds himself using his webs to jump up onto the ceiling.

“Hello? Someone there?” You call out uncertainly as you survey your surroundings.

Your fists are up as you cautiously take steps forward, looking around for any source of the noise.

After another few seconds of silence, you figure you were just hearing things and go bag to throwing agressive punches at the bag in front of you.

The feeling of a pair of eyes on you throws you off a bit, suspicions creeping up your spine. You spin around in a circle like a dog chasing their tail, your senses on high alert as you try and shake the feeling.

As you turn with an irritated groan back to the bag, Peter finally decides to reveal himself, dropping down from the ceiling and landing poorly right behind you, causing you to swing around swiftly, socking him in the jaw with your gloved fist.

“Ow.” He moans, putting a hand over his aching jaw.

Your hands immediately go to cup your mouth in shock as you see who it was.

“Shit! Don’t sneak up on someone like that, what the hell?!” You cry out, looking at him with wide eyes.

“I- sorry!” He says, starting to mumble a bit.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair and groaning a bit.

“That was... sorry. That was fucking selfish of me.” You mutter. “Are you ok?” You ask, gently reaching over to examine his jaw.

“Fuck that’s gonna leave a mark. I’m sorry.” You say, trying to contain the laugh threatening to escape your lips.

“Don’t worry about it. I did kind of sneak up on you I uh... I guess.” He replies, laughing sheepishly.

“Yeah. Curse my damn reflexes I guess.” You say with a small grin.

“Junior, language!” Tony says in a mocking tone as he rushes past, clearly on his way to something important.

You scoff, raising an eyebrow at him. “Oh c’mon! That was one perk to my dad not being here.” You say dramatically, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

With the amount of sarcastic remarks and swears you uttered, many people would probably believe that you were Tony’s kid rather than Steve’s.

“Well sorry he asked me to look after you. Blame the old man, not me.” Tony says with a shrug.

“Of course he did.” You sigh but your eyes widen quickly as you look over at him, a light turning on in your brain. “When did he tell you that?” You ask hopefully, eyes baring into Tony at this point.

“Sometime last night? Oh and he said no s/o’s yet. Little late for that I think.” He says, suppressing a grin as he eyes a very red faced Peter.

“You-you talked to him?” You ask softly, too elated to notice the squirming Spider-Man beside you.

Tony nods and you grin.

“He’s ok?” You ask, blinking at him.

“He’s doing fine. Busy all around the world.” He confirms somewhat bitterly.

You were no stranger to the tension between them and somehow you knew that the last time they were physically near each other, it had gotten worse somehow. Still, you knew neither of them would ever break contact with the other for your own sake.

Ignoring the spiteful undertone, you jump around a bit excitedly.

Peter palms a snicker and you whip around, realizing he’s still there.

“My dad’s been gone for so long... I just...” you mutter, hardly noticing as Tony once again slips out of the room.

“It’s ok. I get it, if my parents were still around I’d probably feel the same.” Peter says, a lopsided smile on his face.

“It’s actually kind of... um.... kind of cute.” He admits, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck nervously.

Without thinking, you jump into his arms, nearly knocking him over as you hug him tightly.

“Thank you.” You breath into his ear, ignoring the internal alarms telling you to keep your guard up.

His mouth moves to speak but is quickly interrupted by yet another show of your boldness as you press your lips onto his, kissing him softly.

“I- I’m sorry? I don’t... I don’t know what that was.” You laugh nervously as you pull away, the adrenaline from the moment still pumping through you.

It turned out you’d taken a lot more of a liking to Peter than you’d initially fooled yourself into thinking you did.

“No! I-I mean-“ Peter exclaims, blushing furiously again. “I mean I kind of... I kind of wanted to do the same thing?” He sighs, looking up at you through his lashes.

You blink, your mouth opening and closing with no words coming out.

Before either of you can say much more, Nat walks into the gym and gives you a smug grin when she notices the proximity of your bodies to each other.

“Nat-“ You begin but she tuts her tongue to stop you.

“Your dad won’t find out as long as he also doesn’t find out that I helped Tony try and get you two together.” She offers, looking between the both of you again.

“Ok su- wait what?!” You cry, eyes once again widening in shock.

She grins again before walking out of the gym.

“I could kill them-“ you mutter and Peter places a hand on your shoulder.

“Or we could... er.... we could actually go out together? Like, on a... on a date?” He asks hopefully.

You smile softly, probably one of the first genuine smiles you’d had since your dad left.

“Sounds like a date. Pick me up from the foyer at the compound around six.” You grin, quickly pecking him on he cheek. “Oh, you might want to put some ice on that. I throw a pretty hard punch.” You add, pointing at his jaw and walking away, leaving the boy speechless and more smitten than he’d ever thought possible.

[juniorgman187]

Luck of the Universe (Spencer Reid Screenplay)

Season 9 Reid deserves more recognition. Definitely one of my fav looks/seasons. So I wrote about it :) 

Summary: Years after Spencer saves Maggie’s life, they reunite unexpectedly. Maggie thinks it’s fate; Spencer does not. She challenges him and says they’ll meet again, even without intending to. They do meet again, but not under favorable circumstances. Maggie’s life is in danger and Spencer must save her . . . again. 

Couple: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Category: Angst, Fluff, Screenplay Content Warning: Profanity, pregnancy, miscarriage, abduction, violence, death Word Count: 10.5k

DISCLAIMER: This was originally a screenplay but was adapted to have a more cohesive appearance on Tumblr. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

Spencer Reid sits outside a cafe to enjoy his beachside view from a coffee shop. Foreign to California’s sun, Spencer has aloe and sunscreen packed with him. He even wears sunglasses wherever he goes. While he patiently waits for the arrival of his coffee, he reads The Narrative of John Smith. The exact copy that Maeve gave him over a year ago. 

Serving his coffee is Maggie. This event will single handedly change both of their lives forever. 

MAGGIE: Let me know if I can get you anything else. 

As she sets down the cup, Reid thanks her, and out of politeness, he tilts his head forward ever so slightly so that his glasses will shift to the bridge of his nose. This way she can see his eyes. And when she does see his eyes, they are so familiar to her, but she can’t place where she remembers them from. Spencer notices her looking at him.

MAGGIE: Oh sorry, you just looked really familiar. 

SPENCER: Actually we have met before. I’m the agent that, um, saved you.   

Maggie stands there for a moment in complete disbelief. 

MAGGIE: Oh my God, yes! No, I totally remember you now. Wow. Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner I’m -

SPENCER: Maggie. 

Maggie peers down at her name tag and gives him a funny look.

SPENCER: No, I genuinely do remember you, and I didn’t just read your name tag. Um I have what’s called an eidetic memory. I’m able to recall things with high precision, even if it was a brief period of time on one occasion. 

MAGGIE: Really? That’s incredible. I wish I could say the same. All I could remember after being resuscitated was your eyes. I meant to thank you, by the way, for saving me, but at the time I was too in shock. I went to the police department the next day trying to find you, but you weren’t there. And as it turns out, it’s not so easy searching for a pair of hazel eyes. 

Spencer smiles. 

SPENCER: I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. I’m a Supervisory Special Agent with the Behavior Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia.

Hearing his name completely changes her. She says it to herself in disbelief. For years she’s wondered who he was, and now she knows.

MAGGIE: So what brings you back to California? 

SPENCER: We finished a case here earlier. I’m just killing time until I go back by reading.

MAGGIE: May I?

Maggie extends her hand to ask for the book politely. Spencer hands it to Maggie. She recognizes it almost immediately. 

MAGGIE: Oh, I love Arthur Conan Doyle. This is just one of those novels I wish I could read again for the first time. 

Spencer doesn’t respond, he’s just so enamored by the way she thinks and speaks. She misinterprets his silence as a sign that he’d rather not keep talking. 

MAGGIE: I should probably let you get back to reading. I wouldn’t want to keep you from the opinionated Everyman John Smith. I hope you have a safe travel home.

Maggie begins to get up from her chair.

SPENCER: Wait um, I don’t normally ask this, but I still have a few hours until my flight and I’d really love to keep talking with you so do you think maybe we could go somewhere or -

MAGGIE: I would love to, but I’m working until the closing shift tonight. 

SPENCER: Oh okay. 

Maggie is conflicted. Against her better judgement, she agrees. 

MAGGIE: You know what? I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere. 

Excitement rises in Spencer. When Maggie goes into the coffee shop, he tries to contain himself. He fixes his hair and straightens out his cardigan and tie. Maggie comes back out. 

MAGGIE: Ever been to the pier?

. . . 

Maggie and Spencer are looking out onto the ocean from the pier. It’s one of the rare times that they aren’t being swallowed by a huge crowd. It’s just them, a few other people, and the sunset. An ocean breeze blows through, making Maggie shiver and bump into Spencer. 

MAGGIE: My bad. Sorry. 

SPENCER: Do you want my - 

MAGGIE: No, no I’m fine. 

Spencer ignores her statement and drapes his cardigan around her. Though she would never admit it, it sort of smells like him - and it’s the most comforting smell in the world. 

MAGGIE: It’s beautiful isn’t it?

Maggie says while looking out to the sunset.

SPENCER: Yeah, it is. 

He says while looking at her. 

After a couple seconds, she notices him staring, looks at him, smiles, and nudges him. 

MAGGIE: It’s getting late. We should head back. 

Spencer follows close behind as Maggie leads the way. 

MAGGIE: I wish we could’ve hung out longer, but I don’t want to leave Tony running the shop alone for too long and I wouldn’t want you to miss your flight. 

SPENCER: For what it’s worth, I enjoyed the little time we did spend together. 

MAGGIE: I did, too. 

SPENCER: So maybe, when I’m back here, we could make plans. 

MAGGIE: I’ll look forward to your return then. 

Maggie and Spencer walk a little longer in a comfortable silence, until finally they’re back at the coffee shop. 

MAGGIE: Do you have a pen?

Spencer hesitates for a moment, but ultimately, has to place his hand on Maggie’s hip to retrieve the pen inside the pocket. This gesture startles her and causes her to remember that she was wearing his cardigan. 

MAGGIE: Oh sorry, I forgot that I was wearing this.

SPENCER: No keep it. It looks better on you anyway. Consider it an early birthday gift. September 8 right?

MAGGIE: How did you- Oh right. Eidetic memory. 

Spencer hands her the pen and Maggie reaches for a napkin from the table and writes her number on it.

MAGGIE: So if you’re ever insanely bored at 3 a.m. or you’re not busy saving someone’s life, call me. 

Spencer takes the napkin. 

SPENCER: Will do.

He tries to mask how excited he really is. 

Maggie heads back inside, but stops herself at the door. She turns back to Spencer.

MAGGIE: (genuinely asking) Do you know how often people reconnect without intending to after years of not seeing each other?

SPENCER: Not very often I suppose. 

MAGGIE: This could very well just be a huge coincidence, but it really feels like some luck of the universe that I’m talking to you right now. And I think we’ll be seeing each other soon again. 

Spencer’s intrigued. As a doctor, he’s pragmatic. Romantic notions such as destiny and luck - he wasn’t a believer of. Even God, he was skeptical of. But he wanted to see Maggie again, even if that meant he had to agree that it was fate after all.

SPENCER: And if we don’t?

Maggie pauses to answer his question. 

MAGGIE: Then we will eventually. 

Before Maggie opens the door, she notices Spencer pulling money out of his pocket to pay for his coffee. She stops him.

MAGGIE: It’s on the house. 

She says with a small smile that’s returned with a grin that creeps upon Spencer’s face. When she fully enters the cafe, Spencer is left alone with his thoughts. 

. . .

It’s the next day. The BAU is seated at the round table. Penelope is presenting the case. Reid’s momentarily distracted. He plays with the napkin in his book. It’s the napkin with Maggie’s number on it. His fixation lasts for so long that he misses the presentation entirely. It’s only when JJ asks him a question directly does he tune in and snap out of his trance. 

REID: What was the question?

Reid shifts in his seat uncomfortably and tries to hide his confusion by opening up the case file. 

ROSSI: You’ve been awfully quiet this morning. A little too quiet. Care to share?

REID: Nothing. Just thinking. 

He’s lying and they all know it. The team exchanges suspicious glances.

REID: Sorry, Garcia, could you repeat it one more time?

GARCIA: Why of course! Anything for you, Boy Wonder. A week ago, Brynn Dryer disappeared from her home late at night. 48 hours after she was reported missing, a couple jogging past a lake found her body. In the M.E’s report, there was a terrifyingly large amount of evidence that she was brutally beaten and clubbed. The official C.O.D was blunt force trauma to the head and the lake was nothing more than a disposal site. Less than a day later, Eliza O’ Hara went missing after someone invaded her home. Yesterday local P.D found her in the middle of a  field by the highway. Same M.O. The police department is anticipating that when you land, another girl will go missing. 

Spencer notices something. 

REID: Wait, can you put their pictures side by side?

Garcia does so. Spencer makes a connection. 

JJ: What is it, Spence?

REID: The similarities between the two victims are uncanny. Notice the eye color, skin tone, hair style, even down to the freckles they have.  

BLAKE: Alright so he’s got an aggression toward brown eyed, tan brunettes with bangs and freckles. 

ROSSI: And I have an aggression toward telemarketers but you don’t see me clubbing them to death. 

HOTCH: The cooling off period between kills is getting shorter. He’s escalating and we’re going to put a stop to this before he hits his stride. Garcia, you’re coming with us. Wheels up in 30.

The team is leaving the round table. 

. . .

The team is on the flight. 

HOTCH: JJ, as soon as we land, I need you setting up a press conference to let the women in the area know to be vigilant. After that, we’ll interview the family’s of Eliza and Brynn. I need Blake and Reid working on the geographical profile. Dave, you and Morgan will take a closer look at the bodies and see if you can’t gather more information. And Garcia, 

GARCIA: Yes, sir?

HOTCH: Find as many more connections between these women as you can, and contact any other women who fit the victimology. 

GARCIA: Yes, sir. 

ROSSI: Apparently, it'll be 101 degrees when we land. Remind me again why people live in California?

Reid perks up. He didn’t even know he was going back to California. But now that he does, he’s even more on edge. 

. . .

Reid works on the geographical profile, while Blake assists from her chair. There’s something off about Reid, and she’s about to find out what. 

BLAKE: Hey, you alright, Reid? You seem like you’re a million miles away. 

Reid stops working on the map. He turns around to face Blake. 

REID: I met this girl yesterday. She was actually a former victim I resuscitated. And before I left, she said she had a feeling we would see each other again soon.

Spencer pauses and purses his lips. 

SPENCER: She looks just like the other victims.

BLAKE: So you’re worried that when you see her again, it’ll be because of this case. 

REID: Do . . . do you think I could call her? To let her know. 

BLAKE: I’m not saying I wouldn’t want to break the rules if I were you, but I can’t, in good conscience, advise you to let her know what’s happening. By doing so, you’re giving her an advantage other people don’t have. If she tunes into JJ’s press conference, I’m sure she’ll be safe. 

REID: I thought Maeve was gonna be safe too. Look how that turned out.  

Blake is at a loss for words. Here she is, the linguist, and yet she can’t find the right words to tell Reid to comfort him. 

. . .

JJ sits beside Garcia as Garcia sets up her system. 

JJ: Spence has been acting really weird today. 

GARCIA: So it’s not just me! I knew something must’ve been wrong because earlier on the flight, I asked if he wanted to play online chess with me and he said no. Can you believe that? I know he’s all anti-tech and everything, but he’s never passed up a game of chess. So that’s why I’ve already done some digging.

JJ gives Garcia the face of “You shouldn’t have done that.” 

GARCIA: Okay, but before you say I shouldn’t have, you should see this. 

Garcia pulls up a small window on her computer to show to JJ. JJ is shocked. 

JJ: A three hour call with his mom last night? Could’ve just been his regular check in.

GARCIA: See that’s what I thought, too, but look. 

Garcia scrolls further up the call list. 

JJ: He hasn’t called his mom in months. 

GARCIA: We all know Reid tells everything to his mom. Something must’ve happened yesterday. 

Unbeknownst to Garcia and JJ, Reid walks in. 

REID: Hey, guys - what’re you looking at?

It’s too late now. Reid’s already seen it.

REID: You’re keeping tabs on me now? How long have you been monitoring me? Huh?

Anger possesses Reid. 

GARCIA: Just since this morning. I only looked at your call history briefly. 

REID: Unbelievable. 

JJ: We were just worried about you. We all are. There’s obviously something going on. 

REID: So then ask me about it. Ever thought of that? 

JJ: We’re sorry. 

REID: Yeah no, I’m fine, thanks for asking. 

Reid storms off from JJ and Garcia. 

. . .

Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan all meet Garcia, JJ, and Blake before delivering the profile. Spencer’s missing.

MORGAN: Where’s Pretty boy?

BLAKE: I thought he was going to talk to Jennifer and Garcia.

GARCIA: He did, but something happened . . . he was upset and left. I thought maybe he went back to working on the geo-profile.

HOTCH: Garcia, when did you last speak to him? 

GARCIA: Oh, I don’t know, sir, um, maybe fifteen minutes ago?

HOTCH: Morgan, go find Reid. We’ll deliver the profile. 

MORGAN: Where should I be looking?

BLAKE: He went to a coffee shop yesterday. I’m not sure which one, but it’s a start.

. . .

Reid is frantically entering the coffee shop. He scans the room for Maggie but doesn’t see her. 

TONY: Hey, what can I get for you?

SPENCER: Is Maggie here?

TONY: Who’s asking?

SPENCER: (flashing his badge) I’m Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI. Let me ask you again, where’s Maggie?

TONY: Didn’t show up today. 

SPENCER: Did she call in sick?

TONY: Nope.

SPENCER: When was the last time you saw her?

TONY: Last night when we were working the closing shift.  

SPENCER: Do you know how she got home?

TONY: She walked. I tried to offer her a ride, but she said she likes to walk. Something about clearing the mind. 

SPENCER: Did she walk alone?

TONY: Mhm. 

Spencer’s mind swirls. He is living his worst nightmare all over again. When he turns around and sees Derek pulling up. Reid rushes out of the coffee shop and hops into the passenger seat immediately. Derek doesn’t even question it. 

REID: Drive. I need Garcia on the phone. 

Derek dials her.

GARCIA: Did you find Rei-

REID: (cutting her off) Garcia, I need you to look up Magnolia Tate. Get me her address. 

MORGAN: What is it, Reid?

REID: She didn’t show up to work today. Her coworker said the last time he saw her was when she was walking home. She fits the victimology. Garcia, the address? 

GARCIA: 178 Citrus Boulevard. Be safe. 

REID: Thank you, Garcia. 

GARCIA: Of course. And, Reid?

REID: Yeah?

GARCIA: I’m really super-duper sorry about earlier. 

REID: It’s fine. I know you guys were just looking out for me. 

Reid can sense Garcia smiling through the phone so he promptly hangs up knowing their business is resolved. 

MORGAN: Reid, there is a good chance this could just be a coincidence. 

REID: I’m telling you - nothing with this girl is just a coincidence.

MORGAN: Well, have you called her yet?

REID: No.

MORGAN: Then call her now, Reid. 

REID: I can’t. 

MORGAN: Yes, you can. 

REID: I can’t. 

MORGAN: Why not?

REID: I’m scared that if I call her, I won’t be able to stop, and I’ll want to keep talking to her, but I can’t do that. Not when I know what it’s like loving something death can touch.

MORGAN: Is this about Maeve?

REID: It’s always about Maeve! Morgan, I watched her die in front of me. And just knowing that right now I could be in the same position -

MORGAN: Listen, I know how guilty you feel about Maeve. Man, I feel guilty about her, too, but you gotta understand that if this is connected to our case, you’re gonna save her. Trust me on this. 

REID: Yeah, okay. 

MORGAN: So how do you two know each other?

REID: She was actually a previous victim of ours. Nearly a decade ago, I performed CPR after her ex-boyfriend pushed her off the boat, bound and gagged. They were out on the lake watching the Fourth of July firework show, but a witness recognized her from the news, which ultimately saved her life. Prior to that, he killed practically all of her next of kin because he believed they were responsible for the restraining order she filed against him. 

MORGAN: Why’d he risk taking her out in public?

REID: He was recreating their first date. How do you not remember this? 

MORGAN: Actually, now that you mention it, I do remember the case. Cause you made that stupid joke that he was trying to reignite a spark.

Reid makes an offended/sad face. Morgan smiles.

REID: You know, taking into consideration how much emotional trauma we’ve been through combined, there is a very real possibility that our relationship would be, for lack of a better word, doomed. She has no parents, my mom has schizophrenia. We’ve both been held hostage. I’ve been hospitalized, and she’s potentially been abducted for a second time. 

MORGAN: Seems like the perfect fit to me. 

REID: I’m being serious. 

MORGAN: I am, too. 

REID: Statistically, 40% of all long distance relationships end up failing in some way, including relationships where the partners are married. And of that 40%, 70% of these failures occur because of unplanned circumstances that happen to one of the participants in a relationship. Unplanned circumstances are practically a part of our line of work. Not to mention, most long distance relationships survive on two in-person visits per month. But relying on getting two cases in California per month is completely unrealistic. 

MORGAN: Kid, you can give me all the statistics and numbers to convince me why you shouldn’t be together, but the one thing you haven’t said is that you don’t like her. 

REID: Fine, I don’t like her. 

MORGAN: Then why am I driving to her house?

Reid pauses, not ready to admit he’s wrong. 

REID: Because this could be a lead on the case. 

MORGAN: Whatever you say, Pretty Boy. 

After a long period of time, Reid finally speaks.

REID: At first, I only noticed her because she looked like Maeve. Even when we were talking, it felt like I was talking to Maeve again. But then, she surprised me. She said that seeing me again felt like a “luck of the universe.” That’s when I realized, she’s not a girl who reminds me of Maeve. She’s her own person. She’s Maggie.

MORGAN: See that wasn’t so hard now was it?

REID: I will crush you.

. . .

Morgan and Reid are walking up the flight of stairs to get to Maggie’s apartment. 

MORGAN: Remind me again of the plan. Because realistically, she could just be playing hooky or be out somewhere else. 

REID: Once we get to her apartment, if she’s not there, I’ll call. 

MORGAN: Have we thought about what we’re gonna say if she is there? Oh sorry ma’am, we thought you were kidnapped.

REID: I’ll figure it out. 

Reid and Morgan are in her hallway. Morgan knocks on her door, but the door moves when he knocks on it. It’s open. Morgan and Reid exchange glances. Morgan reaches for his gun as he cautiously opens the door wider to enter. When they do, there’s no one inside. But there was an obvious sign of a struggle. A glass vase has been smashed.

REID: Call Hotch. I’ll call her. 

Morgan goes to the side to let Hotch know.

REID: (to himself) Please pick up. Please pick up.

MAGGIE: (her voicemail) Hey, it’s Mags. Sorry I couldn’t get to the phone right now, but if you leave a message I’ll call you back when I can. 

Hearing Maggie’s voice almost makes him want to break down in tears, but he composes himself. 

MORGAN: Reid, we gotta go. Garcia found something. 

. . .

Hotch, JJ, Blake, Rossi, and Garcia are all together in the conference room while on the phone with Reid and Morgan. 

MORGAN: What’d you find, Baby Girl?

GARCIA: Well after doing some digging, I unearthed Marcus Linden and Toby Forthword. Who are they you may ask? Good question. They are Eliza O’Hara and Brynn Dryer’s sons. And you’re probably thinking, they have children? Yes indeedio they do. The reason I didn’t find this earlier was because when Brynn and Eliza were teen moms, they set up closed adoptions for their sons before they were born. I’ve been trying to find any contact they might’ve made with the agency or their kids since the adoptions, but I haven’t been able to. I thought that was weird, but I started searching for other women that fit the criteria, and would you believe - there was one. 

The pause Garcia takes before saying it, tells Reid it’s Maggie. 

GARCIA: Magnolia Tate.

Reid is at a loss for words. His mind is trying to wrap about what he’s hearing, but it’s all so much. 

HOTCH: Could you find any more connections?

GARCIA: A week before the abductions, all three of them went to a clinic for women who were pregnant or planning to be. 

Reid bites his lips as he tries to grasp it all. 

REID: Is she pregnant? 

All of them know who he’s referring to. 

JJ: Spence . . . they all were.

If Reid’s jaw could be on the floor, it would. Even Morgan winced as JJ revealed the news. A moment of silence falls over the group as they all feel for Spencer. Hotch is the first to speak after nearly a minute of not.

HOTCH: Apply those precedents to teen mothers in the early 2000s and cross it with women that gave birth to sons who ended up in the system instead of being adopted. 

MORGAN: Baby girl, look at kids that are around 18-20 now. He would’ve been recently freed from the system. He’ll most likely have a history of anger management issues or disciplinary issues. 

ROSSI: The mother might also be recently deceased. 

JJ: There’s your stressor.

BLAKE: With the death of his biological mother, he wouldn’t get the answers he wanted. He’d look for them from the women that his mother is similar to. Brynn, Eliza, and Magnolia all serve as surrogates. Garcia, he’d be aiming to work in the system. Not only would he want to prevent other kids from going through what he did, but it would also explain how he found them. 

JJ: You know the fact that all three women were pregnant could account for his anger. To him, that’s the ultimate form of betrayal. Giving their son up, only to have another child in the future to keep.

GARCIA: Got it. 

Spencer is still trying to process. He stays quiet as he fiddles with the napkin. It almost appears as though he might tear it.

. . .

Maggie’s balled up in a corner, hugging her knees. She’s badly beaten. She’s bleeding, her eyes are swollen from crying and she’s looking down at her stomach. The unsub is standing, watching this.

UNSUB: Don’t cry, Magnolia. I wouldn’t have done that if you just answered me. 

MAGGIE: You killed my baby!

UNSUB: And I’ll do more if you don’t answer me!

MAGGIE: Please . . . I can’t give you the answers you want. I’m not your mother. 

UNSUB: If you don’t answer me, I’ll hurt your little boy. I’ve been watching him very closely. His name is Elijah Martin, cute kid by the way. Quite the over-achieving 12 year old. He’s in soccer and track and field. Wanna see his school picture?

Maggie closes her eyes and turns her head so she doesn’t have to see. 

UNSUB: See, Magnolia, what you’re going through right now, is only a fraction of what I had to go through in my foster homes. I was tortured, bullied, abused. All because that old hag didn’t want to make the sacrifice to be a mother. So answer me this, how could you give him up?

MAGGIE: I may not have made the sacrifice to be a mother, but I did make a sacrifice the day I chose not to be his. I wanted to keep him. I cried when I watched him leave with that other family. But I couldn’t be the mother he needed.

UNSUB: Why haven’t you called him? Or tried to get him back?

MAGGIE: Reaching out would’ve done more harm than good. Not knowing who I am, or who his father was, meant that we could never stand in the way of his future. He can reach his fullest potential - free of mine or Charlie’s hindrance. 

The unsub understands Maggie. She’s gotten through to him. But he still carries anger. He groans in frustration and grabs Maggie by the collar of her shirt.

UNSUB: We’re gonna take a little trip.

. . . 

The BAU is at the local Police Department. Garcia is reading to them what she’s found. 

GARCIA: I know a textbook serial killer when I see one. His name is Ray Lewis-Fernandez. Throughout his time in foster care, he was a troublemaker. He never stayed for more than a month in a group home. Quite a Dennis the Menace, according to his foster families. It also says here that he got caught on multiple occasions trying to get his file so he could find his mother. Her name was Shawna Heights, and I say “was” because she passed away exactly two weeks before he was emancipated. 

MORGAN: So this guy is finally able to find his mother on his own, only to realize he missed her by two weeks. 

GARCIA: Talk about bad luck. But that isn’t even the worst of it. If Ray did do some digging after his emancipation, he would’ve discovered that Shawna had two sons and a daughter only a few years after he was born. 

JJ: Did he try to contact them?

GARCIA: No, but that’s the surprising part. I profiled him wanting to reach out and be one big ol’ happy family, but then I remembered I’m not a profiler.

REID: Wait, that might actually be it.

Everyone is shocked to hear Spencer speak up. 

GARCIA: Wait, I’m right?

REID: Foster families mentioned he’d been trying to find his mother but at the core of its meaning - he’s trying to find family. If his mission is to find family, he wouldn’t stay away unless he had to. Garcia, check if there’s a restraining order on Ray. 

GARCIA: Bingo, Boy Wonder! Malcolm, Shawna’s husband, filed it against him just days after Shawna’s funeral. 

REID: The restraining order means he can’t come within a certain distance of the kids, right? So he wouldn’t risk it all just to have lunch with them or send a letter. Think about it - high risk, high reward. Ray would only violate the order, if he could have them completely. But in order to not get caught, he’ll use maternal figures to lure them. They just lost their mother and seeing or talking to someone so similar to Shawna would make them that much more susceptible. But Brynn and Eliza are both mothers who have given up their sons. This means they know what inadequate guardians look like. They’re aware the kids are better off with Malcolm, and they won’t be responsible for abducting them and placing them under Ray’s care. It would completely go against their own reasoning for giving away their children. Their refusal to help him execute the plan angers him to the point of murder. He isn’t just killing because they’re surrogates for his rage, but because they refuse to help him achieve his goal. 

ROSSI: The kids are his endgame. 

BLAKE: All he’s wanted is a family. Now that he knows he has one that hasn’t already betrayed him, he’ll stop at nothing to have them.

HOTCH: What’s the address, Garcia?

GARCIA: Already sent it, sir. 

The BAU rushes out of the conference room. 

. . .

Maggie and Ray are sitting in his car. They’re watching the three children play - staking them out. Malcolm - their father, is nowhere to be seen. We’re to assume he’s at work while they’re at home. 

RAY: You see the boy with the red hoodie? That’s Malcolm Jr. He’s the oldest. Same age as your boy. Then Evan is the middle child. He’s eight. But the baby - she’s my favorite. Her name is Ariel cause of her red hair. She’s six. 

Maggie smiles for a split second before frowning. 

MAGGIE: You don’t have to do this. 

RAY: And I’m not. Because you will. 

Maggie breaks her gaze from the children to look at Ray with shock. 

MAGGIE: No, no, no I’m not kidnapping them. I won’t do it.

Ray retrieves his gun and points it at her stomach. 

RAY: You had a chance to have your family with Elijah. But you gave him up. Now that I have a chance, you’re gonna help me. 

MAGGIE: What if I don’t?

RAY: You’re smart. Figure it out.

MAGGIE: I will not be taunted with death if I don’t help you take someone else’s babies away. So go ahead, kill me. I’ve got nothing left to live for anyway. 

A gunshot. 

Standing in front of the car, is Malcom with his shotgun. The windshield is shattered by a single bullet that penetrated it. Malcolm fired a shot right through Ray’s head. Maggie is alive and in complete and total shock. Once Malcolm knows he’s dead he rushes to her door to help her. 

MALCOM: You have to unlock it. 

Maggie is forced to reach over Ray’s dead body and unlock the car. When she does, Malcolm helps her exit the vehicle. Maggie’s seen putting pressure on her stomach to stop the bleeding. 

Within seconds of escaping, police SUV’s arrive. Spencer is the first to run out of the car. 

Relief overcomes Maggie. 

MAGGIE: Spencer!

She stops him before he can hug her.

MAGGIE: No wait! I’m bleeding. 

Spencer ignores this and embraces her. Maggie sobs hysterically when he does. 

MAGGIE: He . . . he killed my -

SPENCER: Shh, I know. I know. I’m here now, okay?

Neither of them pull away. 

MAGGIE: Oh my god. I can’t believe you’re here. I knew I’d see you again. 

SPENCER: Yeah, you did. You were right Mags. 

These words make Maggie shut her eyes and smile. 

Hotch approaches the pair from behind. 

HOTCH: Miss Tate, there’s an ambulance here for you. Let’s get you to a hospital.

Maggie nods as Spencer helps her limp to a stretcher. 

When she situates herself and is lifted into the back of the ambulance, Spencer turns to Hotch. 

SPENCER: Can I - 

HOTCH: Yes, yes, go. We’ll meet you there. 

Spencer enters the back of the ambulance and sits beside Maggie as they ride to the hospital together. 

MAGGIE: You’re coming?

Spencer nods and gives a small reassuring smile. 

Another tear escapes her eyes as she smiles through the oxygen mask to thank him. 

. . .

The entire team is seated in a waiting room. Spencer is standing up and pacing as he waits for the doctor. 

A doctor soon enters. 

DOCTOR: Is there a Spencer Reid?

Spencer comes over quickly. 

SPENCER: That’s me.

DOCTOR: Come with me, sir. 

Spencer follows the Doctor. 

DOCTOR: Luckily, the lacerations didn’t travel far enough to do a significant amount of damage that would require surgery, but we did have to perform a blood transfusion due to the amount of blood she lost. 

SPENCER: How’s the baby?

DOCTOR: It was too early to tell the sex of the baby before she miscarried. She’s awake now and has been asking for you. 

SPENCER: Thanks. 

The doctor leaves as soon as Spencer knocks on the door. 

SPENCER: (quietly) Maggie?

Maggie’s face lights up when she sees him. 

MAGGIE: Hey you. 

Spencer pulls a chair closer to Maggie’s bedside to take her hand and kiss the back of it. She smiles as he does this. 

SPENCER: How are you feeling?

MAGGIE: Is it possible to feel incredibly lucky and incredibly lucky at the same time?

Spencer gives her that small reassuring smile. 

MAGGIE: I’ll be okay.

SPENCER: Good.

MAGGIE: I’m starting to regret not letting Tony take me home. 

Maggie and Spencer share a laugh. 

SPENCER: Yeah, I think you should let him drive you from now on. 

MAGGIE: Yeah, you’re probably right, but I don't think I want to work there anymore. Or even live here for that matter. 

SPENCER: I don’t blame you. 

MAGGIE: I grew up here, but it doesn’t feel like home anymore. 

SPENCER: Where are you thinking of going?

MAGGIE: Well, I completed my bachelor’s degree to become an English teacher, but I never applied to any schools. I think in my gut I knew I didn’t want a job to tie me down here, otherwise I’d never leave California - no matter how much I should. So realistically anywhere that’s offering positions to English teachers is ideal. 

Hearing Maggie’s an English major doesn’t surprise Spencer. 

SPENCER: You know, when I go back to D.C, I can find open teaching positions for you. Moving there would be a big change, but I think you’d feel safer at least.

MAGGIE: I think I would too. And I wouldn’t mind the change. Getting a couple thousand miles closer to you doesn’t sound so bad.

Spencer cheekily grins. 

SPENCER: Yeah?

Maggie nods. 

Hotch enters the room.

HOTCH: It’s time. 

Reid nods and turns back to Maggie. 

SPENCER: I’ll see you soon.

MAGGIE: Can’t wait. 

SPENCER: Goodbye, Maggie. 

He sits up and kisses her forehead. For a moment, he rests his forehead on hers. Maggie smiles when he does this little gesture. 

MAGGIE: Thank you. 

Spencer nods and shuts the door behind him when he leaves. 

With a heavy heart, Spencer leaves the hospital. 

. . .

On the plane back, everyone is asleep besides Spencer and Hotch. 

HOTCH: How is she?

SPENCER: She’ll be okay, but I can’t seem to figure out why. I thought she’d be broken. And I think deep down she is, but when she smiles, she isn’t faking it. 

HOTCH: “Sometimes the ones who have the brightest smiles are the ones who have known and endured deep darkness.”

SPENCER: Dodinsky. (the author of the quote)

. . .

It’s been a week since Spencer has visited Maggie, but he’s back now. Maggie is lying on her hospital bed, with Spencer entering her room. He hides something behind his back.

SPENCER: Knock! Knock! I brought you something.

MAGGIE: Oooh, fun!  

Spencer pulls out headbands with the words “Fourth of July” in block letters. 

SPENCER: Here. 

He slides one on top of her head and puts the other on himself. 

MAGGIE: What’s this for?

SPENCER: Sometimes when we go through something traumatic, we subconsciously link the tragic event with the date it happened on. It happens most often with death anniversaries, birthdays, or in your case, holidays. But I want to make the Fourth of July a good holiday again. So earlier, I asked the doctors if I could take you up to the roof to watch the fireworks. 

MAGGIE: Spencer . . .

SPENCER: Humor me. 

Maggie’s reluctant but she still reaches out her arms to have Spencer help her out of bed anyway. He wheels over the wheelchair to her and she groans. 

MAGGIE: Are you actually gonna make me use that?

SPENCER: I mean, you’re welcome to walk around the hospital with your backless patient gown.

Maggie laughs and complies. Spencer begins to wheel Maggie out of her room and into the elevator that goes up to the roof. When they finally get there, Maggie’s face lights up. There’s a whole picnic set out for the two of them. A blanket with small fixings is laid out for them. 

Maggie rises from the wheelchair and turns around to engulf Spencer in the biggest hug. 

MAGGIE: Thank you. This is like the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me. 

Spencer hugs her back even tighter. His hand is on the small of her back, and for a second he can feel her smooth skin, but like the gentleman he is, he tightly wraps Maggie’s hospital gown to cover her exposed skin. A small gesture that to Maggie, does not go unnoticed. 

. . . 

Maggie and Spencer's backs are lying flat against the blanket. They’re in the middle of a conversation where each of them are smiling.

SPENCER: JJ said that Henry wanted to dress up as his favorite profiler, and he came into the office as me. I even gave him my badge.  

MAGGIE: That is adorable! I can’t wait to have kids and celebrate Halloween with them. 

Spencer goes quiet, making Maggie realize what she said. 

MAGGIE: Oh, gosh, sorry I did not mean for that to take a dark turn. 

SPENCER: Do you want to talk about it? 

Maggie pauses. 

MAGGIE: Um, I mean, sometimes I get sad, but for the most part I’m okay. I think I’ve finally accepted that it happened. You know, I’m actually sort of relieved that I didn’t carry the baby full term, because could you imagine how complicated that would be? Yeah, it’s . . . it’s better this way. And I’ve always wanted a family, but if I had that sperm donor’s baby, I wouldn’t have a family, it’d just be me and the baby. But I want my child to grow up with a father, you know?

Yes, Reid does know. He wishes his father was around. 

SPENCER: Yeah, I do. 

MAGGIE: What about you? Do you want kids?

SPENCER: Absolutely. It’s funny because I always say that I could never picture myself leaving my job and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. But if I had kids, they’d be the exception. I, uh, 

Spencer lightly laughs and looks down. 

SPENCER: Yeah, I don’t know, I just really want to be a dad one day. 

MAGGIE: You’d be a really good dad. I mean that. 

Originally, Maggie and Spencer were both looking up at the sky, but after Spencer turned his head and Maggie turned hers, their faces were only inches away. Spencer licks his lips as he contemplates kissing her. But he pivots. He smiles and kisses her forehead. 

Simultaneously, a firework goes off, startling the duo. Maggie laughs in excitement. 

SPENCER: Did you know that at MIT, one of the lessons they taught students earning their degree in chemistry was how to make a firework?

MAGGIE: You know how to make one? What do they use to make the colors?

SPENCER: Good question. To create certain colors, different physical elements are used. Magnesium creates a bright white light, like that one right there. While strontium and lithium each showcase a different shade of red, like the first one we saw. But the most dangerous colors to form, blues and greens, are formed from barium and copper. 

Spencer’s explanation continues for a little longer. The view above the pair zooms out. They’re just two small people on the roof of the hospital. 

. . .

Spencer is in his apartment. He’s on the phone with Maggie. 

MAGGIE: So I’m looking at an apartment in Manassas right now. It’s only half an hour away from the school and it’s a 45 minute drive from your apartment. 

SPENCER: You’re not very good at changing the subject, Maggie. Even now, I can read your body language. 

MAGGIE: I’m not changing the subject. I’m just mentioning my other options that are unrelated to the one you proposed. 

SPENCER: Wow, is the idea of living with me really that bad?

MAGGIE: No! I would love to live with you. 

SPENCER: But?

MAGGIE: But you’ve already done so much. You’ve saved my life twice, visited me every week I’ve been in the hospital, made the Fourth of July fun again, and helped me find a great teaching job over there. So I am sincerely grateful, but moving in with you would feel like taking advantage of your good heart. You’ve done a lot for me already, okay? I can take care of myself from now on. 

SPENCER: Okay, think of it instead as a mutualistic relationship. We both receive net benefits from moving in. You wouldn’t be taking advantage of me because I’d be gaining something from it, too. I’d have a roommate and my rent would dichotomize. And for you, you’ll only be driving 15 minutes to work instead of 30. 

MAGGIE: Did you ever consider being a lawyer? You’re quite convincing. 

SPENCER: So is that a yes?

MAGGIE: It’s a “Yes I’ll move in with you but only if Plan A doesn’t pan out.”

SPENCER: Promise me you’ll think about it. 

MAGGIE: Okay, fine. I’ll think about it. 

SPENCER: Say it. 

MAGGIE: I promise. 

Spencer yawns. Maggie hears it. 

MAGGIE: What time is it over there?

SPENCER: 11:54. 

MAGGIE: Spencer! Why didn’t you tell me? You should’ve been asleep like two hours ago.

SPENCER: I’ll be fine. I don’t have to be at work until 7.

MAGGIE: You of all people know how bad it is to get less than 8 hours of sleep. I’m gonna hang up now so you can at least get 6. 

SPENCER: Then I’ll call back.

MAGGIE: Then I’ll decline. 

SPENCER: Fine, if I go to sleep, you have to agree to consider living with me as more than a Plan B.

MAGGIE: I already said I would! 

SPENCER: Mmm no. I’m not really feeling it. You have to say it nicely.  

MAGGIE: If you sleep now, I’ll consider living with you as more than a backup plan. 

SPENCER: Music to my ears. Sleep well, Maggie. 

MAGGIE: Sweet dreams, Spencer. 

Spencer lets Maggie hang up. Let it be known, that he has never once ended a call. 

. . .

It’s a few weeks later. Maggie’s finally out of the hospital. It’s official that she has the teacher job - no interview required thanks to Garcia. Currently, she and Spencer are packing the last of her things away into boxes in preparation for the cross country move she’s making tomorrow. 

MAGGIE: I know I’m still a little fragile, but the doctor said I’m all clear to resume normal activities. So would you please let me help you with the boxes?

SPENCER: Mmm, I don’t think so. 

MAGGIE: Need I remind you that I’ve been through worse than packing?

SPENCER: That would violate our designated jobs! I pack the boxes - you label them, remember? 

Spencer picks up a book from her shelf and reads the spine of it. From the looks of how empty the bookshelf is, he’s been packing away the books this entire time they’ve been packing.

SPENCER: By the way, I love your book collection. Very diverse. But the way you’ve organized them is peculiar, though. 

MAGGIE: What do you mean? Each shelf is categorized by genre. 

SPENCER: No, I figured that out, but why not in alphabetical order? Cause, see, you have several books from Dickens, but they’re sporadic on your shelves. And again with Austen and Steinbeck, you have several of their books, so organizing by last name means that all the books by the same author would be together. 

MAGGIE: Alright then, when I move, you can organize my bookshelf. 

SPENCER: Sweet!

MAGGIE: I was joki-

Maggie notices that Spencer actually takes pleasure in organizing her books, so she refrains from saying she’s joking. 

MAGGIE: Can I see a box? I forgot I have stuff on my fridge still to take down. 

SPENCER: Here. 

Spencer hands Maggie a box. Maggie begins to fill the box with her fridge magnets, postcards, and small reminders she put on her fridge. Only one picture is left on the fridge - a sonogram picture. Maggie had completely forgotten it was even there. But she drops the box immediately and pulls it off, placing it close to her chest. 

SPENCER: You okay?

Maggie pauses for a moment cherishing the picture. 

MAGGIE: Yeah.

SPENCER: What is it?

Spencer comes over. 

MAGGIE: I thought I threw this away, but I guess I didn’t. It was my first sonogram. 

SPENCER: Oh, from a few weeks ago?

MAGGIE: No - years ago. This is Elijah’s. 

Maggie smiles when she sees the picture. 

SPENCER: I think you should keep it - the picture I mean.

MAGGIE: Yeah, I think I might. I mean, if it’s stayed with me all these years, no sense in throwing it away now. 

Maggie puts the picture at the top of the pile in the box. 

. . . 

Maggie and Spencer are on the plane heading to Virginia. Reid’s reading and Maggie is sorting through some papers with an earbud in one ear.

MAGGIE: Before we left, I contacted the landlord for that apartment in Manassas weeks ago, but he never got back to me. 

SPENCER: I guess it’s a good thing you have a Plan B then. 

Spencer smirks. 

MAGGIE: Remind me again that we mutually benefit so I don’t feel so guilty that you’re constantly helping me but I can never find the opportunity to pay you back. 

SPENCER: Stop it, okay. I want you to move in with me. 

MAGGIE: I snore really loudly. 

SPENCER: Completely okay. 

MAGGIE: I take long showers. 

SPENCER: Not a problem. 

MAGGIE: Late at night, I’ll get random bursts of energy and get really hyper and bothersome. 

SPENCER: So do I. 

Maggie groans in frustration. 

MAGGIE: I feel like you know the reason why I don’t want to move in with you, but even I don’t know why. 

SPENCER: It’s quite simple actually. You’ve spent nearly a decade living alone. And because of that, you think you prefer isolation over having company. But in reality, you’re just scared. Because the last time you were surrounded by a lot of people, they eventually died, essentially abandoning you. And it might not seem like it, but I know exactly what that feels like. To be scared of abandonment. 

MAGGIE: Really?

SPENCER: When I was three, my dad left me and my mom. And a year ago, my girlfriend was shot in front of me.

Maggie’s speechless. 

SPENCER: You and I - we’re scared to let people in and get attached to them. The reason is because we’re afraid to suffer or let go. So, we think, in order to protect ourselves, we have to stay away from the people we’re getting attached to - which is hard because it is equivalent to avoiding the privilege of becoming happy. So we’re caught in the middle of which pain we’d rather endure - the pain caused by unhappiness and loneliness, or the pain that we know, nobody will ever be strong enough to stand against - the pain of letting go. 

Maggie’s astonished. 

MAGGIE: If our love could’ve saved them, they would’ve lived forever. 

A tear rolls down Maggie’s cheek. Spencer uses the pad of his thumb to brush it away. 

. . .

Maggie and Spencer are at the baggage claim of the Virginia Airport. Maggie yawns and leans into Spencer, who puts his arm around her and comfortingly rubs her. 

SPENCER: Tired?

MAGGIE: Extremely. 

SPENCER: We can get coffee on the way home. 

MAGGIE: Are you reading my mind right now?

Spencer laughs.

Maggie sees her suitcase come through on the conveyor belt. Maggie lifts her baggage up, and they begin to exit the airport. 

. . .

Spencer is driving and Maggie is in the passenger seat, trying to fight her sleepiness. 

SPENCER: Tell me about your parents. 

Maggie’s surprised by not unwilling. 

MAGGIE: My mom’s name was Amina. She met my dad, Sonny, in college, and had me when she was 24, but he took off when she got pregnant. At first, I didn’t mind it just being the two of us, but when I was seven, there was a father-daughter dance at my school. I wrote him a letter inviting him to it. He didn’t show up, of course. Not that I really expected him to, but ever since then, I’ve resented him. My mom used to say that he was the reason why I dated Charlie. She said that I never got to see an example of what a good man looks like or how a girl should be treated. In hindsight, she was totally right. 

SPENCER: How did she react to your pregnancy?

MAGGIE: Well, at first she said she was gonna slap Charlie, but she wasn’t even really mad at me. Instead, she just said that if I wanted to have a future and if I wanted the baby to have a good future, I should set up an adoption. Later that same year, she helped me file a restraining order on Charlie. My mom was always looking out for me. It felt like she always knew what the right choice was.

SPENCER: She sounds like a really good person. 

MAGGIE: And she was. I just wish I told her that more often. Growing up, I thought one day I’d get a job and become rich enough to support the both of us. I’d even buy her a range rover - it was a car she wanted since forever. I never got to do that for her, but she used to say to me, “Some people are so poor, all they have is money.” And I think about that everyday. I was never spoiled or born with a golden spoon, but we were so rich in love. She loved me so much, that she’s the reason I wanted to have a baby. Just days after her death anniversary, I visited the clinic. It’s silly, but I just wanted to be half as good a mother as she was.

SPENCER: I feel the same way about my mom. I wanted to grow up and create a cure for schizophrenia by the time I was 29. And even though I’m far from doing so, I’m not giving up hope that I still can. 

MAGGIE: Does she live here?

SPENCER: She’s in a facility in Vegas. 

MAGGIE: Well, if I ever find myself in Nevada, I’d really like to thank her for raising the perfect son. 

Spencer gaily smiles.

SPENCER: Would you maybe want to visit her with me one day?

Maggie nods.

SPENCER: You two would have a lot to talk about. She was a former professor of 15th century literature. 

MAGGIE: Does she still hold lectures?

SPENCER: She does. I attended one of them years ago. It completely changed my perspective. I realized that I owe all of who I am today to her. 

MAGGIE: Then we have to attend one of her lectures when we visit.

SPENCER: She’ll be so happy when I let her know. 

Maggie and Spencer continue to talk about literature. 

. . .

Now in a coffee shop, Maggie and Spencer are nursing their drinks at a table in the corner of the cafe. 

MAGGIE: Earlier, we were talking about your mom a lot, but on the plane, we spoke about your dad leaving when you were really little.

SPENCER: Yeah, um, eventually he wrote a letter saying that he just didn’t know how to be a dad to me anymore. That and he couldn’t deal with my mom’s paranoid schizophrenia anymore. 

MAGGIE: I’m sorry to hear that. I know it’s not easy growing up without a dad. 

SPENCER: He’s partly the reason I want to have kids. I want to be the dad mine never was.

Maggie nods. 

SPENCER: I’m not as mad as I used to be about it. Over time, I slowly stopped caring about him. 

MAGGIE: As you should. 

SPENCER: Um, we still have an hour before we’re home so-

MAGGIE: Yeah, no of course. Lemme just use the bathroom really quick before we go. 

Maggie leaves her phone and her coffee cup at the table. Spencer sips from his drink but stops when he sees Maggie’s phone ringing. The call’s number has a familiar area code. Spencer instantly recognizes it from Manassas. He realizes that the caller is the landlord from the apartment in Manassas that Maggie said hadn’t gotten back to her. He looks at the bathroom and sees Maggie isn’t back yet, so he declines and deletes the call. 

He wants Maggie to live with him, and knowing the landlord called her back would ruin any chances of that happening. And Spencer wasn’t taking any chances. 

. . . 

Maggie and Spencer are finally at his apartment. They’re climbing the flight of stairs, with Spencer carrying Maggie’s backpack for her - like a gentleman. When they reach his door, Spencer unlocks it and opens it for her to walk through first. In that same breath, confetti comes flying. 

Maggie is startled by this, but comes to realize that the entire BAU is in his apartment. A banner hangs behind the team saying “Welcome!”

She laughs and goes to greet each of them.

JJ: I’m JJ. 

Maggie shakes her hand. 

MAGGIE: Maggie Tate. Nice to meet you. 

MORGAN: Derek Morgan. I’ve heard a lot about you. 

MAGGIE: All good things I hope. 

HOTCH: Aaron Hotchner. 

MAGGIE: Right of course. I remember you from the day you guys found me. 

BLAKE: Alex Blake. Nice to finally meet you. 

MAGGIE: Likewise.

ROSSI: David Rossi. Spencer’s Italian grandpa. 

Maggie laughs and Rossi greets her by kissing each of her cheeks. 

ROSSI: Got any Italian blood in you?

MAGGIE: Oh, I wish. Half Filipino, half Mexican. 

ROSSI: A beautiful mix nonetheless. 

Finally, Maggie meets Penelope. Before Maggie can even say anything, Penelope envelopes her in a huge hug. 

MAGGIE: You must be Penelope!

She pulls away.

GARCIA: At your service. 

MAGGIE: I really like your glasses. Cool color. 

GARCIA: (to Spencer) I love her already. 

Maggie returns to Spencer after all the greetings.  

MAGGIE: Did you know they were gonna do this?

SPENCER: I might’ve. 

Maggie turns back to everyone.

MAGGIE: I wish I would’ve known I was meeting you all, I would’ve worn something nicer than leggings and jet lag. 

They laugh and tell her that it’s not a problem. 

GARCIA: So we thought you guys might be hungry, so there’s chips and guac as well as other little snacks. 

MAGGIE: It’s crazy, because I was craving just that.

Penelope gasps and smiles. She extends her arm for Maggie to wrap her arm around. 

GARCIA: Well then let’s dig in. 

Garcia leads Maggie arm in arm to the food. While Spencer draws back to set her things down. JJ waits up for him. 

JJ: She’s pretty. 

SPENCER: She is, isn't she? And she’s more than that, too. Everytime we talk, she never fails to surprise me with her wit or mind. She reminds me a lot of you. 

JJ smiles as Spencer and her rejoin the group. 

. . .

It’s almost the evening now, and Maggie and Spencer are bidding each guest goodbye. The last one to leave is of course Penelope. But when she does, Spencer and Maggie are alone again. Spencer shuts the door behind Garcia, and turns and presses his back to it and sighs. Maggie exhales too. 

SPENCER: I’m sorry about that. I didn’t think this would last for as long as it did. 

MAGGIE: No, no don’t apologize. I like spending time with them. I’m pretty sure Garcia’s energy cured my jet lag. 

Spencer laughs and walks back to Maggie.

MAGGIE: I think I’m gonna go shower now. Try to wash off the flight from me. 

Spencer nods and leads her to the bathroom. 

SPENCER: Just turn this knob to the left if you want it hotter, and to the right if you want cold water. When you’re done just press down on this. 

Spencer presses on the little knob, and when he does, the shower sprays him with water and sprays Maggie, too. She squeals and begins to laugh when she sees Spencer’s hair is drenched. It’s all stringy and in his face, so she pushes it back to see his smiling face. She leaves her hands around his cheeks, cupping his face. 

MAGGIE: Well that’s one way to get wet!

SPENCER: Oh yeah? What’s the other?

The delivery of his innuedo is so subtly seductive. Maggie dismisses it and laughs instead. 

MAGGIE: Um, just tell me where the towels are and I can bring you one to dry your hair. 

He points her in the direction and Maggie promptly leaves the bathroom. When she does, Spencer sees himself in the mirror and realizes just how ridiculous he looks. But on the inside, he feels doubly ridiculous. He’s so embarrassed from what he just said that his cheeks turn red. 

. . . 

Spencer is cleaning up what was left of the welcoming party. He’s in the kitchen, when he hears Maggie exit the shower. Her hair is damp and stringy, and she’s drying it with a towel. Spencer notices the clothes she’s wearing. She has on sweatpants and to his surprise, his shirt. 

MAGGIE: I forgot my pajamas were with the moving truck. I hope you don’t mind. 

SPENCER: Not at all. 

Maggie thanks him with a smile and walks a little more into the living room. She notices that the couch has a blanket and pillows on it. 

MAGGIE: What is this?

SPENCER: What do you mean?

MAGGIE: Are you gonna sleep out here?

SPENCER: Yeah, why?

MAGGIE: No. 

SPENCER: No what?

MAGGIE: No, you’re not sleeping on your couch in your own apartment. I won’t let you. 

SPENCER: It’s fine really. I’ve slept on it before. 

MAGGIE: Do you not want to share a bed?

SPENCER: No, it’s not about that. I just want you to have the bed to yourself. 

MAGGIE: If anything, I should be sleeping on the couch because I’m a guest.

SPENCER: No, I’m serious. I’ll sleep out here. 

MAGGIE: Okay fine. 

Maggie dramatically flops onto the couch. 

MAGGIE: Then I’ll join you. 

Spencer sighs and shakes his head. 

SPENCER: You’re really gonna sleep on the couch with me?

MAGGIE: Mhm. 

SPENCER: Why are you being so stubborn?

MAGGIE: Why are you being so stubborn?

SPENCER: Are you just gonna repeat what I’m saying?

MAGGIE: Are you just gonna repeat what I’m saying?

SPENCER: You’re acting childish. 

Spencer comes over to Maggie. He stands in front of her, towering over her small figure. 

MAGGIE: You’re acting childish. 

SPENCER: Stop repeating what I’m saying.

MAGGIE: Stop repeating what I’m saying. 

SPENCER: I mean it, Maggie!

She shoots up from the couch and makes a grumpy face to imitate Spencer. Their bodies are so close. 

MAGGIE: I mean it, Maggie!

Spencer takes the opportunity of their closeness and uses it to put his arms behind her back and swoop her up - bridal style. Maggie squeals and tries to squirm out of his arms, but he resists and carries her all the way into the bedroom. He tosses her onto the bed and starts to tickle at her sides. 

MAGGIE: Stop! Stop!

Maggie’s laughing so hard, she’s breathless. 

SPENCER: Not until you agree to sleep in the bed. 

MAGGIE: I want to sleep on the couch with you!

SPENCER: Well I guess I’m gonna keep tickling you then. 

Maggie laughs so hard she’s almost in tears. Suddenly, she sees a window of opportunity to escape. When she does she runs out into the living room. Spencer chases after her through the apartment. Maggie dodges some of his attempts to capture her, but is ultimately outrun by him. He gets her to fall flat on the couch as he hovers above her. Both of them are smiling and breathless. 

SPENCER: You’re not gonna give this up are you?

Maggie shakes her head no. 

SPENCER: Alright, I surrender. But if in the morning, you wake up and find that you’ve magically teleported to the bed after falling asleep on the couch, it wasn’t me. 

MAGGIE: Deal. 

. . .

It’s sometime late at night and Spencer has finished showering. Maggie’s traveling through his apartment and looking at everything closer. She notices he has a record player. And all the records are classical music.

MAGGIE: Interesting record collection. Beethoven, Mozart, and Bach. Why am I not surprised?

SPENCER: Am I that predictable?

MAGGIE: Just a little. Care if I try to expand your music taste? 

Maggie pulls out her phone. After some scrolling and typing, she begins to play “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron. Spencer is unfamiliar with this song, but it’s abundantly clear Maggie loves it. 

MAGGIE: Do you dance?

SPENCER: Oh, no, no. 

MAGGIE: Just dance with me. I’ll teach you. 

The song plays in the background as Spencer shyly approaches Maggie. Maggie puts one arm out and Spencer takes her hand. Then he timidly puts his hand on her back, but with confidence, Maggie slides his hand down to her waist. Maggie puts her hand on his shoulder. Promptly, Spencer and Maggie both peer down at their feet as Maggie leads the dance. She does the classic box step, and after fidgeting around, Spencer gets it. 

MAGGIE: There you go. You got it!

They dance a little more. 

MAGGIE: Do you think you can lead?

Spencer nods, and Maggie lets him lead. As the song reaches the chorus, Spencer finally gets his confidence. He doesn’t have to look down at his feet anymore. He finally looks at Maggie. To her surprise, Spencer spins her and dips her. They stay put in this position. Neither of them break eye contact.

MAGGIE: You sure you don’t dance?

Spencer sheepishly smiles and shakes his head. He brings her up from the dip. Maggie’s flustered from the thrill of dancing with him, so much so that she pulls away.

MAGGIE: So, did you um, did you like the song?

SPENCER: Yeah, I did. 

MAGGIE: You know, that, that could be like our song. 

SPENCER: Our song. Yeah, okay. 

. . . 

It’s the middle of the night now. Maggie is sprawled across the couch, asleep. Spencer is at the table reading. He only has one dim light on so as not to make it harder for Maggie to sleep with a bigger light on. He peers over the couch and sees that she’s sleeping so he picks her up and carries her bridal style again. When he lays her in the bed, she stirs and mumbles. 

MAGGIE: (quietly) Spencer?

SPENCER: (whispering) Sorry, I was trying not to wake you. 

MAGGIE: Can you just sleep in the bed? I don’t want you on the couch. 

SPENCER: Yeah, yeah. I’ll sleep on the bed. I’ll sleep soon, but I’m just gonna be outside reading. Goodnight, Maggie. 

Maggie’s already fallen fast asleep again. Spencer leaves the room, shutting the door behind her. 

As Spencer approaches the table, his reading material can be visibly seen. A thick stack of papers within a manila folder labeled “CONFIDENTIAL.” He opens it to resume reading the contents. On the very front, a scanned picture of a man’s driver’s license is paperclipped to another paper. The name on the driver’s license reads, “S.J Glover.” a.k.a Sonny Jr. Maggie’s dad. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

[fuzzyporcupine]

lead me with your hands tied | chapter two

chapters:

1 - 2

summary:

In the midst of a crumbling kingdom at war, Levi Ackerman is commissioned by King Jaeger to paint a portrait of his overzealous son.

–

“You don’t think I’m worthy enough to be the king?”

“No, I think you’re a spoiled brat who would rather play with pomp and circumstance than save his own people from starvation,” Levi spat.

Levi’s eyes were closed when the door to his room was opened once more.

“Enjoying your bath, sir?”

Startled, his limbs flailed in the water, soaking the tiles below. Cursing beneath his breath, Levi turned his gaze to give a half-hearted glare at the girl. Her hands were full of linens and fabrics, meant for him, he supposed. “It’s fine,” Levi finally answered, shoulders relaxing as he attempted to lean back comfortably into the tub. “Where’s Petra?”

“Oh, the Madam is preparing your studio, sir.” The girl nervously shuffled her feet, a piece of dark brown hair gracing her cheek as she shifted. “I’ve been told to bring you a change of clothes.” Levi opened his mouth to interject. “The Madam insisted,” the girl spoke before she could hear any complaints. “I’ll just gather your things and return them after they are washed, sir.” His consent was apparently not required as the girl dropped the linens off onto the bed and began collecting his items off the coffer. She was quick, pale hands hastily gathering his belongings. However, when her grasp hovered over the white cravat, Levi jolted upwards.

The sudden movement caught the girl’s attention, downturned olive eyes seeking out an answer to the distraction.

“I’ll…” He felt trapped between her leering and the tiny confines of the bath. “Leave it.” Her hand was still floating in midair above the object, thin brows now furrowed in question. Levi swallowed hard, hands beginning to slip on the sides of the tub. He didn’t want to explain - shouldn’t have to - to some servant girl why he insisted on washing something as inconsequential as a cravat. It wasn’t made of some rare, expensive material. Hadn’t been passed down from generation to generation. It was a simple item of clothing that, nonetheless, had Levi going white-knuckled.

The girl seemed to notice, curious stare fading into a look of something that appeared close to understanding. “Yes, sir.” Her hand dropped audibly to her side. “Of course.” She shuffled out of the room quietly, leaving him anxious and hung over the side of the bathtub like a true and tried idiot.

He looked down at the tile where a large puddle of water had congregated from his splashing. Stared at his warbled reflection as it shook and rippled with every drop that fell from his head. Wanted to reach inside that image and shake the bastard’s shoulders. To rip all those tainted, gruesome memories out of that mind.

That poor, poor mind.

There was a feeling pooling in his gut. Fear? Disgust? He couldn’t pin it. Only knew that the water which once felt like a sanctuary from all of travel’s aches and pains was starting to slowly drown him.

The tile was cold against his bare feet and toes curled as an unpleasant shiver traveled down his spine. The chill quickened his pace to the bed, eager to examine the clothing brought before him. Levi was almost positive that nothing would fit properly. He was, as loathe as he was to admit it, a small man. His uncle had always chucked the lack of growth up to Levi’s malnutrition as a child. But Kenny was no doctor, and Levi tended to never believe a single sinister word that weaseled out from those thin lips.

Fingers twitched anxiously at the thought of dragging their touch across the fine fabrics laid out across the bed. The dark blues and soft beiges complimented each other wonderfully, and Levi secretly hoped that the king would not be expecting the items back after he was finished with the commission. The linen glided effortlessly over his skin, smooth and soft. Surprisingly fitted, as well. Levi would have to thank Petra for her keen eye, he thought.

No sooner than he had finished fastening the last button of his tailcoat, the door creaked open again. This time, however, it was Petra’s face that greeted him and not a nosey servant girl.

“I take it the attire is suitable?” Her hands had migrated to her hips, and Levi couldn’t help but feel like a child who was about to be scolded. Maybe the servant girl had said he was an ass. More likely Petra just had a good intuition.

“Not bad,” Levi said, hands running down the front of his cinched waistcoat.

“Glad to hear it, sir.” Petra hesitated, mouth opening and closing as if she were trying to find the right words. “You scared poor Emmie to death, you know?” she finally spoke. Levi pressed his lips tightly together, not necessarily keen on the idea of a refreshment course in etiquette. “She said you near leaped out of the tub like a madman.”

Levi scoffed, “I think your poor Emmie may be suffering from a case of exaggeration.”

Petra’s lips quirked at that, the stern look in her temple softening a touch as she regarded the man. “She didn’t seem to think so, Mr. Ackerman. You had the girl in practical tears.”

“I tend to have that effect on women.”

Petra huffed overdramatically, “Of that I’m sure." Levi was positively certain that he should be affronted by the agreement. There was a mischievous twinkle in the woman's eye that begged otherwise. “Come now. The studio awaits.”

Levi brightened at the thought. He had traveled so far, and the idea of the studio was the only thing that he was sincerely looking forward to. To hell with the royal family. Levi just wanted to paint.

Petra led him down the hall, under the vast stone arches that supported the great structure. Their footsteps were muffled by the expanse of red that flowed from the singular carpet extending down the path. It was a rich, luxurious scarlet that brought warmth into an otherwise cold corridor. Beyond the rug, there was no other color. Only a bland variance in the shades of grey amongst the stone walls. It was a stark difference to the vibrant Jaeger family crests that flew their proud viridescence along the castle like a silent battle cry.

Or silent subjugation, Levi thought.

They paused at a twisted, metal staircase - the thing looking archaic and out of place amongst the brick and mortar.

“It’s this way,” Petra said as she lifted the hem of her dress. “Watch your step, sir. The stairs can be most unforgiving should you take a fall.” Levi imagined his head splitting open like a melon against the thick stone walls. To be fair, the splash of red would do the hollow halls a favor. However, the color would, ultimately, clash with the carpet.

He held on tightly to the narrow stair rail. It was rusted beneath his hands, a rogueish vermilion staining the black metal. The steps ached and creaked loudly in opposition to his frame being carried up their spine. Thankfully, the journey did not ascend too high, only above to the next floor. It was here that Levi was met with a door. A large, black door that seemed more imposing than all the castle grandeurs combined.

“We had to improvise where to place the studio,” Petra explained. “There’s been no need of one since the young Majesty’s mother passed.”

Ah, yes, Levi remembered her. Well, at least remembered hearing the tales. He’d never been so lucky as to meet the woman in the flesh. The beautiful and elegant Carla Jaeger. Shinganshina was truly a different land with the queen on the throne. Her peaceful hand helped keep the king’s tumultuous relationship with Marley in check. Some say it was her doing altogether. There was truly no one better fit to rule over the people. And then she died. Suddenly and with no warning, leaving Shinganshina with a manic king and two motherless sons. Soon after, the fragile peace with Marley had launched into an all-out war.

The residents of Shinganshina could do nothing but watch the world around them crumble while silently mourning the loss.

“A shame,” he murmured, sharp eyes studying the intricate patterns warped into the wood of the door. Looked a lot more likely the room would be housing an alchemist’s laboratory than an artist's workshop.

“Indeed.” Petra voice had lost the giddy edge, and she wrung dainty hands as the true intent of Levi’s comment weighed heavily in the air. It appeared that not only the villagers were still feeling the ill effects of the queen’s loss. The woman seemed to steel herself as she took a deep breath, “Forgive me, Mr. Ackerman. You’ve only just arrived, and I am already burdening you with unpleasant memories. You must think me a very poor excuse for a housekeeper.”

“It’s no trouble-”

“We shall make a glorious evening of this yet!” A pale fist was raised high into the air as she beamed with triumph. Levi couldn’t help but offer her a subtle upturn at the corner of his mouth.

“Come, look at what we've pieced together for you,” Petra said as she pulled on the large, bronze handle. “I’m sure you’ll be absolutely marveled.” Levi had his suspicions. It was foolish to think that the king knew a single element that would be required of an adequate studio.

The entrance opened with a satisfying click, followed by a long drawn-out creak that preceded a breeze of cold air from the other side.

And then, light.

The room was positively bathing in it.

Vertical windows lined the outer wall, reaching nearly from floor to ceiling. The effects of the evening sun shone unconstrained through the glass, painting the room in a bewitching orange glow. So, the king did know something about the art of portraiture after all. Or perhaps this was all Petra’s doing. Turning to look at the bright, expectant smile lighting up her features, Levi suspected it was the latter.

There was miscellaneous furniture placed throughout the room. A plush green sofa, purple needlepoint armchairs, a rustic wooden bureau. However, what stood out most of all to him was the fireplace. Elegantly crafted from carved stone and decorated with hints of teal and gold, the fireplace seemed to perfectly embody the image of an ideal royal heir. Strong and bold, yet handsome and rich. Levi detested the thought of comparing it to a spoiled brat, but couldn’t deny that the object would be the perfect backdrop to the painting.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Petra’s smile had not faded as she stood in the doorway. Levi felt a bit like their roles had been reversed - Petra morphing from chastising mother to expectant child eagerly waiting for praise. He indulged her, giving a quick nod of his head.

“You’ve done well, Ms. Ral. I look forward to capturing the prince’s likeness here.” The words were a half-truth. To paint again and be compensated for his talents, that was what he yearned for. The damn dirty prince could burn in a thousand hells as far as Levi was concerned.

“I am honored, truly, sir.” Petra bowed lowly. He stiffened, not accustomed to the actions one would typically reserve for nobles and royalty. If only the woman knew that she was most undoubtedly wealthier than the man to whom she so easily bent her head. “I will have one of my girls bring your supplies here if that is quite alright?” He could easily manage this on his own, but Levi was positive that Petra had certainly already sent one of the servant girls into his room. Agreeing with her now was simply common courtesy.

Levi made a vague noise of approval. “Of course.” He turned to begin a more thorough inspection of the studio when the sound of quickened footfall called his gaze.

“Oh, Mr. Ackerman, I’m sure that you are eager to get to work, but you must remember.” Levi quirked a suspicious brow. “I said this would be a most glorious evening. What is a magnificent affair without a proper meal to finish off the day?” Petra looked at him as if she were anticipating an answer, but Levi fancied that the woman would enlighten him without his query. “His Majesty has ordered the chef to prepare the finest venison and vegetables I’m sure you’ve ever indulged upon. You are the guest of honor, after all.” Levi tried not to let his expression sour. This was inevitable, wasn’t it? He could not very well manage to paint a picture of the king’s son without at least meeting the royal family first. The thought alone made Levi’s skin itch.

"That's not necessary," he tried, tongue heavy in his mouth as he searched for a suitable escape.

"Oh, don't be silly, Mr. Ackerman," Petra laughed, "I'm sure you are absolutely famished. And His Majesty insisted, after all." Levi felt his face morph into a sneer as his jaw tightened.

His Majesty insisted.

Of course, the bastard insisted.

“As His Majesty orders.” Hopefully, the venom in his tone was not too apparent. If it was, Levi would simply blame it on the journey. A strenuous voyage could make any man affable. Petra's smile fell, and Levi inwardly cringed. He'd have to watch his mouth, the damned thing it was. Got him in a fair amount of scuffles in his youth. However, the stakes here were much higher than a black eye or bloody nose. “Lead the way,” he continued, trying not to sound so incredibly vexed. Petra nodded silently, all former excitement replaced with a disposition as if she’d just sentenced a man to place his head on the block.

“Certainly. Please follow me, sir.” She quickly turned on her heel, the bounce in her step replaced with a rigid tread. Thin nostrils contracted as he heaved a deep sigh.

This was inevitable, Levi reminded himself. And he began his march towards the dining hall, leaving the cold chill of the studio behind him.

[adenei]

Yay yay yay platonic Rarry! I want more. A lot more! I love friendship fics between Ron and Harry ❤️

Hi anon! Here’s some more platonic Rarry for you (with side Romione and Hinny because I couldn’t resist.) Hope you enjoy!

*************************

Taking the next step

“Want to take the afternoon off if we get through all this paperwork?” Ron asked Harry. They were both sitting at their desks in the Auror office, having gotten a brief reprieve from being in the field.

Harry looked up from what he was doing. “What’d you have in mind?” he asked.

“I could use your help with something,” Ron said noncommittally.

Harry stared at him before saying, “Okay…”

“You’re not opposed to using glamour charms and disguising ourselves, are you?” Ron asked. 

“No. Mate, do you have some secret Auror mission you’re trying to investigate or something?” Harry asked.

“What? No, ‘course not! I just think it’d be best if we weren’t seen by anyone who would recognize us. I’ll explain when we’re out of the Ministry.”

“Alright,” Harry said as he went back to his work. He trusted Ron, and was sure he had a good reason for whatever he had planned. The afternoon came faster than he’d expected, and the pile on both of their desks had become significantly less.

“Ready?” Ron asked. 

“Sure. Are you going to send a note to Hermione letting her know that you’re leaving?” Harry asked.

“Er, no, she doesn’t need to know. I’ll send a patronus if we end up being later than expected.” Ron said. “Lunch in muggle London first?”

Harry was surprised that Ron wasn’t telling Hermione, but tried to hide it. “Alright.”

They stopped at a quiet cafe a few blocks into Muggle London that had a good selection of sandwiches. After they placed their order, Harry looked at Ron.

“Alright, what’s really going on that you’re being all secretive about?”

“I want to look for a ring,” Ron told him.

Harry stared at him, processing his words. He wasn’t surprised in the least. The girls had just finished at Hogwarts a few months prior. 

“Wow, really? That’s great, mate! How’d you know?” Harry was genuinely interested, since he’d been thinking about how long he should wait before he started shopping for one for Ginny.

“Honestly? I’ve known it for so long, and things are finally starting to settle into some normalcy in our lives, and it just feels right.”

Harry nodded. “That makes sense. But why not just shop in Muggle London? There are plenty of jewelers, and then you can avoid the prying eyes of people in Diagon Alley.”

“Magical jewelry is different, mate.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes, “Honestly, I shouldn’t be surprised when you ask questions like that anymore, and yet here we are.” Ron laughed at himself.

“How?” Harry asked interestedly, pretending he didn’t hear Ron’s jab about Harry’s continued lack of magical knowledge.

“Well, it’s kind of like shopping for a wand, isn’t it? It’s not that the ring chooses the person like a wand does, but there’s magic embedded in the ring that’s drawn to certain dynamics of couples, and the right choice will help strengthen the bond between them. So like, the ring I’d choose for Hermione would be different from the one you’d choose for Ginny...if that’s something you decide to do, too, of course. There’s really more to it than just style and diamond cut and band, and all that other rubbish I’ve been trying to read up on in secret,” Ron explained.

Harry nodded, “So, have you guys talked at all about it or is this going to be a complete surprise?”

“What do you mean? We’ve talked about our future together, but Hermione’s not really the type to gush over a princess cut, or side stones, or the difference between white gold and silver…” Ron droned on.

Harry snorted, “ I think you need to lay off the research. Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Oi! How much thought have you given it?”

“Enough to figure that I’d just know what would suit Ginny when I see it? She’s not exactly the ‘froo froo’ type either,” 

Ron nodded in agreement. “See? That’s exactly my point!”

Harry looked at him as if he’d grown two heads. “So has Hermione ever actually talked about what kind of ring she wants?”

Ron stared blankly back at him. “Er, no. That’s why I asked you to come along. We’ve only ever talked about the future in relation to being married and how many kids and where we’re going to live...we’ve never really discussed the engagement part of it..”

They were interrupted by the arrival of their food. “Ah, so you proposing is nowhere near on her radar,” Harry said. 

“Hopefully not, but I’d like her to be bloody surprised for once in her life. She’s got everything too planned out.”

“That she does. So what are you thinking?”

“Well, you know how we were talking a while back about taking a holiday together? I thought it might be perfect to set that up and plan for it, then. It can still be a private proposal, but we’d also have you and Ginny to celebrate with, and we could enjoy it before having Mum go crazy at the announcement.”

“Oh, excellent idea! When are you thinking?” Harry asked. “I could use a break.”

“Ginny’s got a gap in her season coming up next month, yeah? We could go then?”

“Sounds brilliant, but how are you going to pry Hermione away from work? She’s barely getting started, so you know how she’s going to react to taking a vacation so soon.”

“Well, luckily she’s got to use some of her paid time off before the end of the year. Only half of it will carry over.”

“Brilliant, really brilliant mate. Maybe we should go book the trip this afternoon, too so they can’t talk us out of it,” Harry suggested.

Ron looked up from his sandwich excitedly. “See, I knew I could count on bringing you along! I might have to send that patronus to Hermione after all.”

*********************

After they finished their lunch, they paid and left the cafe, heading for a dark alleyway just down the street. They altered their appearances using glamour charms so no one would recognize them when they returned to Diagon Alley. As they made their way to the jeweler, they brainstormed different locations for the trip, and ultimately decided on southern Italy. They both agreed that that would be the most memorable and romantic for Hermione when it came to the proposal.

They walked into the jewelry shop and began looking as the shopkeeper was helping another customer. Ron was browsing along the glass cases when he saw one that caught his eye. It was a yellow gold vintage band with a round brilliant diamond cut in a cathedral setting. There were four single cut accent diamonds on either side of the center stone. The ring was unlike anything he’d ever seen.

“Ah, yes, the brilliant cathedral in traditional gold. This one is rather rare when it comes to browsing patrons,” the jeweler said to Ron. “It signifies the test of time, and is best suited for a couple that is deeply devoted to each other. I haven’t seen a pairing for one of these in quite some time.”

“Oh? Should I, er look at something else?” Ron asked awkwardly.

“No, no, I meant that as a compliment. The ring is sensing the love and devotion you have for your other half. It absolutely suits you.” Harry walked over to see what Ron had found. “I should warn you though, if you choose this one, it’s best not to wait too long. You may lose the strength in the bond it feels.”

Harry tried to stifle a laugh. “Hear that, mate? Don’t wait another seven years to pop the question.”

“Bugger off, Barry.” Ron said (they’d agreed that code names would be best as well, just in case). “I’ll take it,” he said without hesitation.

“Excellent! And might I show your friend a particular piece that I can sense pulling towards him?”

Harry shrugged as Ron eyed him curiously. The shopkeeper let them over to another class case and pulled out a silver band that held a solitaire diamond. “A simple white gold band with a radiant cut diamond. Fit for an easygoing couple that understands balance in an ever busy life.” 

Despite Harry’s high profile life, this did fit them well. He and Ginny had always had a mutual understanding of the hardships they’d been through since the war had ended, and they’d worked hard to be more open and candid with each other as a result. The ring certainly suited Ginny’s personality well.

Harry gave Ron a tentative look. “If it feels right, go for it, mate.”

“But this is about you and Helena,” Harry made up a fake name on the spot for Hermione.

“Yeah, but if that’s really what you want with Minnie then go for it. Just, don’t hijack my plans.”

Harry thought for a moment, and knew deep down that ultimately this was the direction he wanted to go in with Ginny. He hadn’t been happier since they were able to pick their relationship back up, and he couldn’t see himself with anyone else. “Yeah, alright, I’ll take it,” Harry said as he broke out into a huge grin.

“Look at us, growing up and thinking about next steps,” Ron said.

“Yeah, who knew we’d even be here to see the day,” he said quietly.

They took turns checking out, setting up transfers to be made from their Gringotts accounts, and once their true identities were revealed, Ron pulled out nondisclosure agreements to ensure their anonymity from the press. This wasn’t something he was going to chance being ruined because of one person.

“That was brilliant thinking, mate,” Harry said as they walked out of the store, still in disguise. “Ready to head over to Globus Mundi?” 

“Let’s go. I think we can ditch the disguises there, but let’s transfigure the bags just in case.”

“Good thinking.”

“So when are you thinking of popping the question?” Ron asked him eagerly.

“Well, I’m not going to do it too close to you guys. Was thinking maybe around the holidays. That’ll give Hermione enough time in the spotlight.”

Ron nodded. “Thanks, mate. You’ll be my best man, yeah?”

Harry laughed and said, “Isn’t it a little early to ask? She might not say yes.”

“Very funny, Harry.” Though a look of worry creased Ron’s brows.

“I’m just kidding! Of course, I will, as long as you’ll do the same for me.”

“I don’t know...for a specky git like you? I wouldn’t want to overshadow you with my handsome looks, after all,” Ron said with a smirk.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, alright, I deserved that.” They both laughed some more. 

“Come on, we’ve got a vacation to plan!” as Ron picked up the pace.

[lucisfavoritedemon]

Always & Forever: Part 7

Pairing: Lucifer x reader

Summary: Being forced into an arranged marriage by your father doesn't go quite to plan when your soon to be husband tries to take the only freedom you have ever known. Little does he know someone else was listening in. Go on a journey to discover that Lucifer may not be as bad as he appears. He did save your life after all.

Warnings: talks of acts of violence, talks of possession, age gap, cursing, fluff, some angst, mentions of blood and injury, talk of mature topics, 18+ only.

Word Count: 2,301

A/N: I try to stay as true to the time period as I am comfortable with. This an 18+ only series. You have been warned. There is a lot of talk about mature topics. You have been warned. All thoughts in italics.

Enjoy!

I stood there shaking horribly, waiting for the sting of a sword and then nothing, but it never came. I opened my eyes and looked at Lucifer, his face was written with fear, and sadness. He slowly started to walk towards us. I hide further behind Sam not knowing what could happen.

“I-I’m not going to hurt you princess...I-I didn’t mean what I said...it was just so he would stop torturing me with hope that you would come back to me.”

I stayed where I was, still scared of the thought he was going to hurt me.

“Could you move away from her please? I want her to know I’m not a threat.” Lucifer looks to Sam, and he moves no hesitation.

“Y/N, please look at me. I’m not going to hurt you. I could never hurt you. I would never actually kill Maddox, or your father, or anyone from Lucaea kingdom.”

“Wh-why didn’t you come back? You were given multiple chances...I called your name in my sleep. I wanted you by my side, to feel your arms around me, but...you never came. You’d rather be fighting our army than be by my side.” I was fighting tears because all I ever wanted was the man I loved to hold me in his arms.

“I-I wanted to...but I couldn’t.”

“I’m your wife! And you couldn’t do your job and be by my side, when you knew I wanted you there.”

“I know I failed, okay?! Quit reminding me!”

I jump at him raising his voice. I didn’t know what to do. I could leave and go back home, pretend like I never came here, and move on with my life, or I could stay and hope that Lucifer really will stay this time. I knew it was wishful thinking that he would stick around this time, but I wanted to hope so badly that he would.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t keep being reminded that I failed you. I don’t want to fail you. Not again.”

“You clearly hate being reminded about stuff. Hope, failure. You know what you’re doing right now, giving me false hope that you’ll ever stick around. I want to hope so badly you will, but the more you open your mouth, the less hopeful I become.”

He looked down, and I knew that this was probably the end. We had to go our separate ways. I should have listened to Dean when he said it wasn’t a good idea. 

“I guess that’s it then…” I say my voice cracking from the tears I was holding back.

I squeeze through the guards and slowly walk away. I walk to my father and his men and mount a horse, “let’s go home.” I told my father. 

He nods and gestures to his men to move out. I feel a single tear roll down my cheek. This was it. Lucifer wasn’t coming back into my life, but maybe it was for the best. He would just keep leaving every time he failed, even though failure is a natural thing to happen.

“Your highness, is everything alright?” Maddox said trotting his horse next to mine.

“It’s over, I failed my kingdom. I should have just stayed at the castle. I should have known better than to leave and chase after some fantasy of mine. I should have listened to Dean and Sam about this. That it wasn’t a good idea.”

“Don’t talk like that. You did your best, and that was the closest we have ever gotten to peace this far. The Oslucatish princes are just stubborn men who don’t know what’s best for them and their kingdom. You did the right thing coming here. I wish, for your sake, that things turned out different. I know you love him. Truth is when you were ill you..”

“Kept calling for him. I know. I found your letters to him.”

“My-my letters? H-he kept them?”

“Yeah, he had every single letter you wrote. He even got back the letter he sent you.”

“He never sent me a letter. I never got a response from any of my letters.”

“H-he never responded? B-but he had a letter…” I think about what Lucifer said, what if he was telling the truth that he didn’t mean what he said? Maybe he wrote the letter in anger, and never sent it. Oh no, what have I done. “Maddox, I messed up. Really, really bad.” I stop my horse and turn it straight around and run back to the village.

“Your majesty wait!” Maddox yells.

I kept running though, I needed to fix this. Maybe there could be peace between our kingdoms after all. Had Luc just told me he never sent it, this could have been avoided. I get to the gate when I’m stopped by one of the village people.

“Miss, if you have come looking for the army they have returned home. Prince Michael showed up and the second prince is being tried for treason.”

“N-no…”

I sent my horse into a gallop and headed to the kingdom of Oslucatish. I had to stop this. I couldn’t let Lucifer give up like this. He hasn’t failed me. I failed him. I will ultimately fail if I cannot stop Michael from killing him. 

“Halt! You are not permitted to enter this kingdom without strict orders or an invitation.” A guard spoke up, stopping me.

“How’s this for an invitation?” I mumble, rearing my horse and running right past them.

I heard them call to stop me, but I was on a mission. To stop this war and get Lucifer back.

3rd Person POV:

Inside the castle the king waited for his eldest son for an explanation as to why his brother was on the execution line.

“Father, as you know we are at war with Lucaea, but I have a strong feeling that he is the reason they have the upper hand in this war. He is still in kahoots with King Nova himself. I believe I saw some Royal Lucaea Knights leaving the village near the Southern Mountain. I knew he was probably leaking intell on our latest attack.”

“Alright son. You plead your case. Lucifer!” Guards brought his second son, who was battered and bruised, over in chains, “did you or did you not tell those knights of our next attack.”

“No sir. I was actually meeting someone else from Lucaea.”

“Ah ha! I told you father…”

“Let him finish son.”

“I was meeting with Princess Y/N herself. She requested to meet in secret so no one knew what she was planning. I figured that neutral territory would be the best place, and it was halfway for the both of us.”

“What did she tell you, Lucifer.”

“I cannot say. I made a promise, on our love, that I would never tell another soul. Especially not with Michael in the room.”

“Would you tell me if your brother wasn’t in the room?”

“No father, I would not. You would just use it against Lucaea and destroy their kingdom. I don’t trust any of you.”

“See father? I should have just ended the bitch when I had the chance. Too bad that little mage found the antidote to my rare poison.”

“I-it was you Michael? You poisoned the princess?”

“She refused to marry me. Father gave me the plant all I had to do was put a single drop in her glass. Of course, you had already arrested me, so I let Gabe do the dirty work for me.”

“F-father? Is this true? You wanted to kill my wife?”

“She was promised to Michael after all. It was not your decision to choose that you would be the next one in line to marry her.”

“I’m the next oldest. You wouldn’t give her to Gabe, would you?”

“If that’s what I decided I wanted to do, then Gabe would marry her.”

“Fine, you want to know what Y/N and I talked about? Talked about complete destruction of Oslucatish.”

Lucifer then breaks free of his chain and pulls out his sword. Ready to fight anyone who dared to come near him.

“You are a traitor Lucifer! You are not fit to be king! Nor my heir! Guard! Seize him!”

Lucifer then starts to fight off every guard, but all he can think about is how heartbroken the princess was. He was fighting for something he knew would never come back to him. She was gone, and wanted nothing to do with him. He had turned into someone he didn’t even recognize, and it chased her away. He couldn’t look in the mirror the same way again knowing he is the reason the love of his life was now gone.

One of Michael’s knights catches Lucifer off guard and tackles him binding him in chains.

“I order the execution of the Second Prince of Oslcatish to be held at dawn! Take him away!”

The door suddenly burst open and there stood a beautiful girl. She had everyone looking at her, all but one person. 

“I have some arrangements to discuss with you, your Majesty.”

Reader POV:

“I have a few arrangements to discuss with you, your Majesty.” I bow clumsily showing I have no respect for him whatsoever.

“How dare you come into my palace and demand to discuss with me!”

“I can do what I want King Chuck. I am Princess Y/N of Lucaea. And I believe you are the reason there is war between our kingdoms. So tell me why I should respect you when you're the reason my people are starving."

The king looked at me intrigued, “so you are the girl that has my boys going crazy. It's no wonder though, you're very beautiful. Sorry about the poison by the way, but no one gets away with breaking my son's heart.”

"It was you? I'll have you know that your son tried to kill me at our very first meeting. You tell me then why I chose the second prince.”

“You chose Lucifer?”

“Father, he interfered!” Michael yelled. Typical spoiled brat throwing a tantrum. 

“Yes, I chose Lucifer. He saved my life. I owed him that much. I would give everything to have him by my side for all eternity. As my friend, as my king, as my love.”

“I see. Would you die for him if it meant he lived?”

“Y/N! Don't listen to him!” Lucifer yelled, but got smacked down with the hilt of a sword.

“I would, yes. But you cannot kill the king of Lucama on neutral ground.”

“Ha! He is no king!”

I pulled out the document stating that King Nova III has stepped down, and that Lucifer and I have been crowned king and queen of Lucaea.

“Release him. Mark my words girl. This isn't over. Michael, retreat your army. We surrender.”

“Father, wait! We can't let them win like this.”

“Enough! Now do as I say or you will no longer be my heir.”

“Yes sir.”

The guards slowly release Lucifer who is laying on the ground bleeding. I rush to his side and play with his hair. We'll be home soon, love, I promise. 

~*~

It had been a few days since the incident at Oslucatish, and had not left Lucifer’s side. I was getting worried since he hadn’t woken up, but I still stayed by his side. I sat there playing with his hair, being careful of the wounds on his face.

“How’s he doing?” Maddox asked, walking in and sitting next to me.

“He’s okay I guess. Still hasn’t shown any signs of waking up.”

“It’ll be okay. He’ll wake up soon. I promise.”

“I hope so.” I keep playing with Lucifer’s hair trying to keep myself calm.

As I keep playing with his hair, I feel him start to lean into it. I smile, brushing the hair off his forehead very gently. His eyes slowly open.

“Hey Luc. How are you feeling?”

“Been better.” He smiles looking over at me.

I smile more, so happy that he is okay.

“I leave you two alone then.” Maddox says and walks out.

“How did we get back? I was sure my father would have captured you and forced you to marry Michael.”

“Maddox came to help me get you back. The guards helped me get you out of the palace.”

“What did you do? Please don’t tell me you’re going back?”

I give a light chuckle, “no, Luc. I’m here to stay. I just hope you’ll do the same.”

“Of course. I promise. Am I dreaming?”

I giggle, “Lucifer, you are not dreaming,” I pull something out of the draw of the bedside table, “I found this in the satchel of my horse. Maddox slipped it in before we left the village.” I hand it to him.

“A coronation decree?”

“Father decided that it was time you and I took over the throne. Now that I have found you again, he thinks that we should be crowned.”

“Is this what you used against my father?”

“Yes. I said it would mean a never ending war for Oslucatish if a king was slain on neutral ground. Then, I showed him that.” I pointed to the pieces of parchment.

“Have I ever told you how much I loved you?”

“You’ve only said you loved me once.” I giggle.

“Well, I do love you very much.”

“Good, ‘cause you’re stuck with me till the day we die.”

He chuckles, and it makes me giggle.

I was happy he was back in my life. Even though I didn’t even know he wasn’t a consistent thing in my life a few days ago, but now that I had him back, I never wanted to let him go again.

[haledamage]

Double Date

I’m very late in the day posting this, but I still got it before Valentine’s Day is over so I’m counting it as a win! this is sort of for OC Kiss Week, and since technically there’s a kiss between OCs I’m still counting it

a Valentine’s Day double date featuring Wayhaven’s cutest couple, Nate Sewell and Abigail Jenings, from the POV of Kira Kingston, one half of Wayhaven’s most awkward not-couple. AJ belongs to my dear @queen-scribbles, Kira is mine, Nate and Adam are from The Wayhaven Chronicles

---

Kira set a pair of mugs on the squat coffee table in her living room. One mug, proudly proclaiming its owner to be “Pure of Heart, Foul of Mouth, Smart of Ass” held a fresh cup of chai tea. The other, a beautiful handmade mug covered in sunflowers, belonged to Kira’s roommate, AJ, and was filled with coffee to the redhead’s very exacting taste.

It’s a quiet day in the apartment, something both women preferred and rarely got to enjoy. With work and Agency business - not to mention AJ's new boyfriend and Kira's… more complicated situation - it'd been a while since they'd been able to spend time together that didn’t involve casing a crime scene.

AJ had claimed the sofa, legs tucked under her and book open on her lap. It looked to be a very old tome, pages yellowed and spine cracked with time; it didn't take much to figure out where she must've gotten it - or rather, who she’d gotten it from.

Drinks delivered, Kira returned to the old gingham recliner and picked up her own book - a murder mystery; she’s pretty sure she knew who did it already, but didn’t want to skip ahead for vindication.

“Hey, Kir,” AJ's voice broke the silence and Kira's meandering thoughts. She waited for the brunette to hum in acknowledgement before asking, “You doin’ anythin’ on Sunday?”

Kira took a second to think about it, though she didn’t really need to. “I don't think so? In theory, I have the day off. Why?”

“Nate and I were thinkin’ o’ goin’ out and thought you might like t’ join us,” Abigail said in a rush.

Kira blinked. Then blinked again. “You're inviting me to third wheel on your date this weekend?”

“Not... exactly.”

“Spit it out, Red.”

“Y'see, we figured we could maybe…” AJ tugged on a wayward curl, straightening it out before letting it snap back to join the rest, “make it a double date.”

“A double--” Kira was half-tempted to pretend she didn't know who Abigail and Nate intended her date to be, but she knew she wasn’t fooling anyone anymore. “There's no fucking way Adam would agree to that, AJ.”

Grinning victoriously, AJ carefully closed her book so she could lean forward. “But if he did, would y’ go?”

There was no way Kira could say no to that hopeful look and she knew it. “Sure,” she sighed. “Okay. If you can convince Adam to go, then I will too.”

“Trust me, Kir,” Abigail said, patting her friend on the knee as she reached for her coffee, “it'll be fun.”

It's only later that night as she was setting her alarm that Kira realised with a sinking feeling what day Sunday was. She just got roped into a double date on Valentine's Day.

---

Kira resolutely refused to dress up. She was still pretty sure Adam wasn’t going to show up, and she didn’t want to third-wheel in uncomfortable shoes. She wore the same head-to-toe black she always did - though she did slap on some red lipstick at the last minute in an attempt to appear “festive.”

She felt vindicated when Sunday evening came around and AJ was dressed much the same way she normally was, blouse and waistcoat and adorable but ultimately unsuccessful attempt to tame her copper curls. She cycled between checking her phone, wringing her hands, and smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in her shirt; it looked like only sheer force of will was keeping her from pacing the length of their living room.

“C’mon, Red,” Kira said fondly. She put her hands on AJ’s shoulders. “Relax. You’ve been on dates with Nate before.”

“It’s our first Valentine’s Day.” She somehow sounded even more nervous than she looked.

“First of many.” That finally drew a smile to Abigail’s face. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

“Hearts Festival,” she admitted quickly. “It was Nate’s idea, showin’ ‘em the local culture.”

“That’s… not a bad idea, actually.” Kira could feel herself relaxing under that knowledge. The Hearts Festival was a fair held every year in the Square, on or around Valentine’s Day. Most of the local artists and crafters set up little stalls of things intended to appeal to couples, but Kira and Abigail had found some of their favorite knick-knacks exploring it together. There was also music and cutesy romantic activities aplenty, but both of them were familiar enough with it that they could approach or avoid it on their own terms.

“Nate said Adam’s lookin’ forward to it,” the redhead said slyly.

“Nate was fucking lying.” Just like that her tension was back, which only made AJ smile wider. “I don’t think Adam knows how to look forward to things. Especially not when I’m involved.”

“Maybe. I guess we’ll see.”

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. The brief measure of calm AJ had found was gone in a blink, nervously brushing a palm over her hair as if that might subdue it. Kira bit back a laugh and took pity on her friend, yelling, “It’s open!”

The door swung open and Nate and Adam stepped inside, the former immediately greeting his girlfriend with a warm smile, the latter scowling at nothing in particular.

Knowing her presence had been immediately forgotten, Kira ducked out of the way to avoid getting stuck between Nate and AJ as they gravitated toward each other like magnets. She busied herself with getting her coat on instead.

She only barely stifled a surprised gasp when Adam came over to help her with it. Neither of them said anything, looking anywhere except at each other.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to break the silence, grabbing the first topic that came to mind. “I’m surprised they talked you into this.” Her voice came out a little rough, so she cleared her throat and finally turned to face him, playful grin in place. “Did Nate have to blackmail you?”

A corner of his lips quirked up in a small smile. “Do you think I’m that averse to your company, Detective?”

She shrugged. “Valentine’s just doesn’t seem like your thing.”

“Perhaps,” he admitted, strangely reluctant. “Why did you agree to this, if you didn’t expect me to?”

“I’ve never been able to say no to AJ.” Kira glanced over at Abigail and her boyfriend, who may as well have been the only people in the room for the way they were wrapped up in each other. “Don’t tell her I said that, she’ll use it for evil.”

“Is it your thing?” he asked quietly, watching their friends as well. “All of… this?”

She scoffed. “Not really. I don’t think I’m a chocolates-and-flowers kind of girl.” She looked back at Adam to find him frowning at her words. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he looked disappointed. It woke up the butterflies in her stomach and compelled her to add, “I’ve never had anyone try to prove otherwise.”

She didn’t give him a chance to reply to that, scared of what exactly his answer would be, clearing her throat exaggeratedly instead. “Should I go? I can stay at the Warehouse tonight if you lot need to be alone.”

AJ and Nate paused, their lips a hairsbreadth apart as they’d both been leaning toward each other. Kira didn’t need vampire hypersenses to feel the frustration coming from both of them, though neither of them said anything about it; she tried not to feel guilty about interrupting them as they moved apart.

A few minutes later, the four of them stepped out into the cold February evening and began the walk toward the Square.

Nate and Abigail took the lead. They only made it a few steps before he reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. They shared a brief, besotted smile before turning their attention back to the sidewalk, walking close enough that their shoulders bumped together.

Kira found herself staring at their linked hands as she walked behind them, something stirring in her chest that she might almost call jealousy, except she knew she wasn’t at all attracted to either of them. Unconsciously, her eyes drifted over to Adam walking next to her, only to find him already staring back. For a beat, their gazes held.

Then they both looked quickly away, suddenly fascinated by the sidewalk and the light traffic on the road. Adam shoved his hands in his coat pockets, and after a moment’s hesitation Kira did the same.

The next few minutes were spent in tense silence, the only sound between them the snatches of conversation drifting back from the couple in front of them.

“Where are they taking us?” Adam asked suddenly.

“They didn’t tell you?” He shook his head and she smiled a little. “I only found out just before you arrived. They must’ve assumed we’d refuse as soon as we heard. It’s a little fair that they hold in the Square every year. I mostly just go for the food.”

“You’ve been before?”

“Sure.”

“With a date?” The question forced itself out through clenched teeth.

“Yes. I have a standing date with this cute redhead I know. About yea high,” she held a hand a few inches above her head, “lets me call her Red.” She watched in awe and amusement as the tension left Adam’s shoulders when he realised that his only ‘competition’ was the woman dating his best friend. Kira glanced fondly at the cute redhead in question, who looked back at her as if aware that she was being talked about. She winked at her, and Abigail grinned back. “I kinda thought I’d be spending the day alone this year,” she added quietly to Adam.

“You sound like you would have preferred that.”

“No.” It sounded like a lie, so she corrected herself. “Not exactly. I don’t mind the company. I just don’t like the crowds.”

They turned a corner and were hit by a wave of lights and noise as they entered the Square. Kira flinched under the onslaught more than either of the vampires did, but steadied herself quickly before anyone could fret over her.

The whole area was festooned with lights. Strings of white and pink and red fairy lights wound between poles and covered stalls. Everything was wrapped in ribbons and draped with flowers, and the notes of a familiar Elvis love song drifted to them from a small stage off to one side.

The night passed in a blur. Looking back at it, Kira wouldn’t be able to recall doing much more than just walking through the crowds, eyeing a couple interesting pieces of artwork and very fancy little cakes. She remembered the mulled cider Nate got her and the colorful bouquet he got AJ. She remembered being dragged into the photobooth with AJ, and standing on the sidelines of the dance floor watching her dance with Nate.

She remembered the way Adam stood next to her, a question on his lips that he still couldn’t quite voice. She remembered the single red rose that somehow found its way into her hand.

She remembered that she started the day feeling like she was being dragged along on her best friend’s date, and finished it wishing the date didn’t have to end.

When they arrived back at their apartment building, Kira and Adam acquiesced to their friends’ unspoken request and stayed downstairs to give them time to say good night properly. As soon as they were alone, the familiar silence fell between them, tense and comfortable in equal measure.

Surprisingly, it was Adam that broke it first. “Did you have a nice night, Detective?”

“You know what, I did. And one hundred percent less mirror mazes than our last date, that was nice.” She grinned when he chuckled at that. “I’m dying to see where people trick you into taking me next time.”

He didn't seem at all bothered by the prospect of 'next time.' His smile lingered, wide enough to show the slightest hint of dimples on his cheeks. "If I recall, the last one was with Nate and Detective Jenings as well."

Kira leaned against the wall of the apartment building and said, as casually as possible, "True. Maybe we should plan the next one ourselves, then. Invite them along for a change.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” He didn’t seem bothered by that either, though his smile was stifled by the weight of the look he gave her, serious and intense and full of an emotion she couldn’t name.

She tried not to wilt under that look and instead met it with an answering one. “If I was, would you say yes?”

He moved a step closer, struggling between what he wanted to say and what he felt he should. She waited him out, like she always did. Eventually, all he said was “Kira…”

The sound of footsteps on the stairs meant she’d never get to know how the rest of that sentence went. She tried to swallow her disappointment when Adam stepped away again, and turned to smile at Nate as he joined them.

He smiled back, an absolutely giddy expression on his face. Kira knew she’d see an identical one on AJ’s face when she went upstairs. He put a warm hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze as he walked past and wished her good night.

She expected Adam to follow him, but he still lingered a moment more, brow knotted with a frown. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he said, a bit too quickly. “I simply… wanted to thank you. For accompanying me.”

“Anytime.” The admission made her blush, but she didn’t take it back. “I-I should probably…” she gestured vaguely up the stairs.

“Of course.”

He reached out and took one of her hands in a gentle grip, moving slowly as if to give her a chance to pull away. As if she had any intention of doing so. As if she wasn’t holding her breath for fear that any gasp or sigh might scare him away. He bowed, the movement so formal that she could clearly see evidence of the knight he once was, and lightly brushed his lips over the back of her hand.

Whatever he saw on her face as he moved away again drew a smirk from him. “Good night, Kira.”

She released the breath she’d been holding in a serrated sigh. “Good night, Adam.” Her voice came out oddly high-pitched, but it made him chuckle again.

Then he was gone.

It took a couple minutes before Kira could remind herself to move and drag herself upstairs. AJ was waiting for her in the living room, grinning ear to ear and still clearly on cloud nine about her night with Nate.

Kira was starting to think she understood the feeling, just a little.

That surprised a giggle out of her, the sound so hopelessly smitten that there would be no way she could keep what just happened a secret. Abigail’s knowing look only confirmed it, her smile somehow even wider and Kira’s growing to match it.

On a whim, she grabbed the redhead’s face and kissed her firmly on the cheek. “You are the best friend and wingwoman a girl could have.”

“You’re welcome, Kir,” AJ chuckled. “Am I forgiven for draggin’ y’ out on Valentine’s Day?”

“You can drag me along wherever you want to. No more complaints from me.”

“I’m gonna remember y’ said that.” She dropped down onto the sofa, leaving enough room for Kira to join her. “Now tell me everythin’.”