#and they go oh maybe youre not hearing her tone right maybe youre misinterpreting it

[loverboybreakdowns]

ugh. at least at my exfathers house i was left alone most of the time idk

[teatreeoilll]

|| Crush (Gojo Satoru X Reader) ||

(Reposted from my old blog which I don't have access to anymore (thanks Tumblr), if you liked it reblogs or likes would be appreciated to get me back on track since I've lost all my followers and half my work :(

Short one shot, in which Gojo finds out reader has a crush on him. TW: mentions of Alcohol and smoking

"I mean, if you had to choose one of them?" Your hands slipped further on the table, your palm grazing the wood while you fixed your gaze on Shoko's uninterested eyes.

"No," She said calmly.

"But if you really, really had to?" Her eyes darted across the room, her mind in dire need of a change in conversation topic.

"If I really - really, had to," She sighs, "I guess I'd pick Satoru."

Your heart dropped at the mention of his name. I knew it!

"But really," She continued, "I think he makes a horrible team with anyone, it doesn't matter how strong you are if you can't do that, y'know? But those six-eyes are no joke, so if I had to, I guess -" Your confused expression stopped her from talking further.

"Shoko, I meant if you had to pick one to - uh, you know, "

All the confidence you mustered to bring up the topic in the first place had vanished, you slid back into the chair, watching Shoko's face shrink with disgust. "No."

The drink before you emptied quickly as silence took over the room, each time you wanted to say something you felt your throat tense as the drunk haze had begun to clear. Perhaps it really was a bad idea to talk about this.

"I have a feeling this isn't really about me, is it?" She reached to open another canned sake. "I would like to say that you can tell me anything, but I have a feeling I wouldn't want to hear this," She took a long sip, "But I'll play along. Who'd you choose?" She was far too familiar with your mannerisms, knowing you would never admit to it any other way.

For a few months now, she had been brushing off her suspicions as misinterpretations.

"I - I would, hm, maybe, Satoru?" Regret settled deeper in your throat, but you knew it was too late to make up some excuse to leave this conversation. "It's not like I'd do anything about it, you know?" Shoko's eyes widened as you spoke, she tried to utter a few protest words, her hands are signaling you to stop talking.

You felt your face turn red, "I mean, It's just a crush, nothing to be too flustered about, right? What do those last, like a few months at most? Just don't look at those beautiful blue eyes, and that snowy white hair… It'll go away on its own!" Aware that it's too late, Shoko had buried her face in her palms. That's it, the thought passed through your brain, She will never respect me again.

"It really is nothing to be flustered about. Quite understandable - really." A familiar voice came from behind, you could hear the grin in his tone. You desperately stared at Shoko, your eyes begging her to say anything - anything to rescue you from the embarrassment.

Shoko cleared her throat, "It is, very understandable! That you have a crush on this guy, who doesn't even attend Jujutsu High!" Ah, it could have been such a good save.

"Oh yes!" Gojo laughed, kneeling next to your chair with his hand placed firmly on your shoulder, "Such a shame, but it's not like you have to see his beautiful blue eyes and snowy white hair every day," He failed to hold back his laugh, "I'm sure it'll go away on its own."

You focused your eyes on the table - Twelve cans of sake, only seven open. Gojo's hand on your shoulder. Oh god. Ashtray, still smoking. Salty chip packets - 2,3 … no 4, one has fallen off the table. Gojo's hand makes its way to your lower back. How's Kyoto this time of year?

"There's nothing to be shy about." His whisper catches you off guard, his face so close to yours you were sure he could smell the alcohol coming off of each of your heavy breaths. You find the strength to stand up, your chair screeching on the floor. Gojo almost lost his balance.

"It's getting late, Shoko, thank you for the - actually, let's never drink again. I'll see you tomorrow."

You walked the dark corridor, unable to focus on anything other keeping yourself balanced after so many drinks, keeping the thoughts on solving your predicament for a more sober time.

A hand brushed your wrist before gripping it tightly and pulling you in its direction. Even in the dark, you could see the blue of his eyes.

"Listen, I really meant what I said." You uttered, watching his smirk widen. "No smart comebacks now!" You felt your chest heat up, the shame had turned to anger. People have feelings, why does it have to be a joke? His hand loosened its grip on yours.

"We're not children anymore Satoru, It's a crush. It'll be gone just as fast as it came. You don't have to joke about it, just forget it."

Never in his life had he let you finish so many sentences without a snarky remark. You tried to read his face, but the shadows covered his expression.

"Say it again." You felt his body come closer to yours, his lips almost touching yours, you didn't notice yourself stumbling backward until the wood boards on the nearest wall had pressed to your back.

"Say what again?"

"Say you have a crush on me," His voice lower than usual.

Fine, if it's going to be a joke, I guess it's better to go with it. "I have a crush on you, Satoru Gojo." As you tried to rid yourself of your compromising position his hand grabbed the back of your neck, entangling itself in your hair. Tension forms at the pit of your stomach.

"I have the biggest crush on you, Sa-" you mustered the huskiest voice you could find, but he wouldn't let you finish, his tongue already trying to find its place in your mouth.

He freed his hand from your hair just to grab your legs, lifting them up to wrap around him, his fingers digging deep into your thighs. He pauses to catch a breath, his face resting in the crook of your neck, just to huff a few words;

"Well, aren't I lucky?"

[teatreeoill]

|| Crush (Gojo Satoru X Reader) ||

Short one shot, in which Gojo finds out reader has a crush on him. TW: mentions of Alcohol and smoking

"I mean, if you had to choose one of them?" Your hands slipped further on the table, your palm grazing the wood while you fixed your gaze on Shoko's uninterested eyes. "No," She said calmly. "But if you really, really had to?" Her eyes darted across the room, her mind in dire need of a change in conversation topic. "If I really - really, had to," She sighs, "I guess I'd pick Satoru." Your heart dropped at the mention of his name. I knew it! "But really," She continued, "I think he makes a horrible team with anyone, it doesn't matter how strong you are if you can't do that, y'know? But those six-eyes are no joke, so if I had to, I guess -" Your confused expression stopped her from talking further. "Shoko, I meant if you had to pick one to - uh, you know, "

All the confidence you mustered to bring up the topic in the first place had vanished, you slid back into the chair, watching Shoko's face shrink with disgust. "No." The drink before you emptied quickly as silence took over the room, each time you wanted to say something you felt your throat tense as the drunk haze had begun to clear. Perhaps it really was a bad idea to talk about this. "I have a feeling this isn't really about me, is it?" She reached to open another canned sake. "I would like to say that you can tell me anything, but I have a feeling I wouldn't want to hear this," She took a long sip, "But I'll play along. Who'd you choose?" She was far too familiar with your mannerisms, knowing you would never admit to it any other way. For a few months now, she had been brushing off her suspicions as misinterpretations. "I - I would, hm, maybe, Satoru?" Regret settled deeper in your throat, but you knew it was too late to make up some excuse to leave this conversation. "It's not like I'd do anything about it, you know?" Shoko's eyes widened as you spoke, she tried to utter a few protest words, her hands are signaling you to stop talking. You felt your face turn red, "I mean, It's just a crush, nothing to be too flustered about, right? What do those last, like a few months at most? Just don't look at those beautiful blue eyes, and that snowy white hair… It'll go away on its own!" Aware that it's too late, Shoko had buried her face in her palms. That's it, the thought passed through your brain, She will never respect me again.

"It really is nothing to be flustered about. Quite understandable - really." A familiar voice came from behind, you could hear the grin in his tone. You desperately stared at Shoko, your eyes begging her to say anything - anything to rescue you from the embarrassment. Shoko cleared her throat, "It is, very understandable! That you have a crush on this guy, who doesn't even attend Jujutsu High!" Ah, it could have been such a good save. "Oh yes!" Gojo laughed, kneeling next to your chair with his hand placed firmly on your shoulder, "Such a shame, but it's not like you have to see his beautiful blue eyes and snowy white hair every day," He failed to hold back his laugh. "I'm sure it'll go away on its own." You focused your eyes on the table - Twelve cans of sake, only seven open. Gojo's hand on your shoulder. Oh god. Ashtray, still smoking. Salty chip packets - 2,3 … no 4, one has fallen off the table. Gojo's hand making its way to your lower back. How's Kyoto this time of year?

"There's nothing to be shy about." His whisper catches you off guard, his face so close to yours you were sure he could smell the alcohol coming off of each of your heavy breaths. You find the strength to stand up, your chair screeching on the floor. Gojo almost lost his balance. "It's getting late, Shoko, thank you for the - actually, let's never drink again. I'll see you tomorrow." You walked the dark corridor, unable to focus on anything other keeping yourself balanced after so many drinks, keeping the thoughts on solving your predicament for a more sober time. A hand brushed your wrist before gripping it tightly and pulling you to its direction. Even in the dark, you could see the blue of his eyes. "Listen, I really meant what I said." You uttered, watching his smirk widen. "No smart comebacks now!" You felt your chest heat up, the shame had turned to anger. People have feelings, why does it have to be a joke? His hand loosened its grip on yours. "We're not children anymore Satoru, It's a crush. It'll be gone just as fast as it came. You don't have to joke about it, just forget it." Never in his life had he let you finish so many sentences without a snarky remark. You tried to read his face, but the shadows covered his expression. "Say it again." You felt his body come closer to yours, his lips almost touching yours, you haven't noticed yourself stumbling backwards until the wood boards on the nearest wall had pressed to your back. "Say what again?" "Say you have a crush on me," His voice lower than usual. Fine, if it's going to be a joke, I guess it's better to go with it. "I have a crush on you, Satoru Gojo." As you tried to rid yourself of your compromising position his hand grabbed the back of your neck, entangling itself in your hair. Tension formed at the pit of your stomach. "I have the biggest crush on you, Sa-" you mustered the huskiest voice you could find, but he wouldn't let you finish, his tongue already trying to find its place in your mouth. He freed his hand from your hair just to grab your legs, lifting them up to wrap around him, his fingers digging deep into your thighs. He pauses to catch a breath, his face resting in the crook of your neck, just to huff a few words; "Well, aren't I lucky?"

[felice-jaganshi]

Alastor's Leash

Chapter 3

Zariah was being princess carried by Alastor, pouting like an upset child with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Now, what did you say to set off Mimzy? I've never seen her get that angry without good reason. If not for our deal, I'd be more than half tempted to pretend I didn't notice and let you two fight it out.”

Zariah huffed out a fox whine. “She called you heartless! And I argued you had the biggest heart I've ever met, and made me feel loved everyday. I don't understand how or why she sees you as so ‘heartless’ specifically, but she got really pissed off, and then I used us cuddling in my bed as an example and she launched herself at me! Like, who reacts like that?!”

“Sinners, my dear. That's who.” He groaned, now understanding the situation she'd gotten into. 

“The exact reason is, back when we were alive, she and I would party together. Early on in our friendship, she'd tried to make sexual advances, which I always turned down. And then, when she stated she'd fallen in love with me one day, and I still did not reciprocate, she called me heartless. Our relationship took a nosedive for a bit until she caught me hiding a body. It certainly improved after that, as she realized it wasn't ‘her’, I just had no interest in women in general. My work was just too important to me. So, your comment about us cuddling in bed , she might have misunderstood or more likely chose to misinterpret, as sex. So, now she feels insulted. And to be fair, she's not wrong about me being heartless, I am incapable of the type of love she always wanted from me.”

 

“Oh, well I didn't mean to hurt her… but you're not heartless, I can hear it beating right now.” She rest her head on his chest. “Bum bum, bum bum. Yep, it's still there. Just because you love differently, doesn't mean you don't love in your own way.” She smiled sweetly, and he returned the gesture, eyes half lidded.

 

“Such a wise pet I have.”

 

“Oh, idea! Charlie was able to visit heaven once with Lucifer's help right? Maybe we can get you a day pass to see our moms!” 

Alastor groaned and set her on her feet, “I take back what I said about you being wise. That's the worst idea I've ever heard. Heaven is no place for a demon like me.”

 

“But why not? Especially if it's just for a day. She'd love it!” Zariah looked confused. She couldn't understand why heaven scared him so much.

 

“Zariah, we're dropping it there.” His tone was stern, “No more discussion of getting me to heaven, I'm quite happy here in hell, where I belong .” He paused to let his words sink in before continuing, “Now, we need to get ready for your broadcast. What are you going to read for our listeners today?”

 

“Hm… I'm thinking of hooking everyone in with one of my favorite book series. After book one, if they want the other books, they'll have to give me their souls to hear the rest! Does that sound like a plan that might work?”

 

He hummed, “Make it book 2 and I think it might.” He pet her head and she purred, wrapping one of her tails around his waist.

 

_______

 

Vox paced around his tower while Velvette worked on their social media posts for the day, scheduling a few for later.

“Argh! Fuck! I miss Val!” He yelled.

“Oh get over it you big baby! You two fought more than you fucked anyways!” She was being cold, because he needed it. Suddenly an alarm went off, letting Vox know a radio broadcast was about to begin.

“Oh fuck! Alastor's back on!” He ran to the radio to listen to his “hated rival's” broadcast. It was all he could think about these days.

 

“Hello sinners! It's time for our newest, and most popular weekly broadcast, the Radio Angel's story hour. Everyone get tucked in with your snacks and blankets, I've been told this one is a personal favorite of hers. How exciting!”

Vox growled, that damn angel had taken up all of Alastor's attention lately! He'd even given her credit for his latest attack on Vox's dignity! 

 

“That's right Al! As our listeners will soon discover, the main character has a lot of parallels with Lucifer that are very exciting! And if they can make it to act four, they're in for a world of emotional pain and torment unlike anything they've ever felt. I will also change a few of the terms to make it easier for our listeners to understand the story.”

“Well isn't that exciting, and so generous. Let's get started then….”

 

“Among all the angels in heaven, there was one famous laughingstock of the three realms…”

 

Vox listened intently, her voice truly was suited for this sort of thing. She didn't sound like her usual energetic obnoxious self that he'd heard from the few interactions he'd had with her. It was soothing and calm when she read. He was jealous to the extreme! She was going to get so many followers from this shit!

 

After a bit, Alastor's voice cut back in, interrupting her with his own commentary on the story.

“Hah! What a fool he is, quite like our king indeed. Challenging heaven itself over a single child's life. I'm quite interested to see the pain and suffering of such a kind heart as he will go through.” He sounded so pleased with himself, and she couldn't help but giggle. 

“Hey now! No spoilers!”

Once she finished reading the Prolog, Alastor put on a “commercial break”, to give her time to breath, collect herself, and drink water. 

 

“Oh my god! This was so much more fun than I thought it'd be! It reminds me of when I was alive and I'd read to my friends over the headsets at work. Hah… that job was a literal nightmare worse than hell itself, but my coworkers made it worth every moment. I loved them all so much.” She smiled fondly with her eyes shut, picturing her old friends. 

 

“After this, I want to help with Becca's wedding. You should too. She's like a sister to me, so that will make Luci your brother soon. So try to get along a little, yeah? No more plotting to kill him and take the throne of hell. It's Charlie's to own.” She kept her tone soft.

He whined a little, like a child. “But darling~.” He gave her a sweet, syrupy look.

“Nooo! Don't even, it won't work. You're cute, and I love you, but the throne of hell is a headache you don't need. Just trust me…”

[mochegato]

The Night of the Consequences

Continuation of Well, Well, Well, If It Isn’t the Consequences of My Actions

“Ladybug!”

Ladybug’s eyes widened, recognizing the voice booming through the Watchtower halls without even having to turn around.  She eyed Chloe nervously.  Why did these things keep happening around the nosy blondes in her life?  She turned around with an overly wide smile.  “Oh… hi… um… M.… Wing,” she stuttered out.  

Son of a bitch!  She really should have prepared for this.  She knew it was coming.  Granted, she didn’t know it was coming today, but it had to be coming soon, they couldn’t afford to let just anyone go around knowing their identities.  If the family was really worried, they couldn’t afford to wait to talk to her about… well… her.  

Bee side eyed her with an incredulous stare.  “What the actual fu…” she started quietly.

“Is there something we can help you with?” Ladybug asked loudly, cutting off whatever rant Chloe was going to go on.

“Um well, first off,” he gave her an overly wide, supposedly charming grin, “you can call me Nightwing.  M. Wing is my… father.”  He cringed as he the last word came out.

Bee raised an eyebrow.  “I thought your father was M. Bat.”

Nightwing puckered his lips.  “Yeah… that’s… true.”  He shuffled awkwardly.

“If you’re going to use that line, you’re supposed to say we can call you Night, which I’m not going to do, by the way,” Bee said flippantly and starting to study where her nails would be if she didn’t have gloves on.  “Otherwise it really doesn’t work.”

“Bee!” Ladybug lightly chastised.  She turned to Night… Wing… Nightwing!  She wasn’t calling him Night either.  “Sorry about her.  I’d say she’s just tired, but that would be a lie.”  She ignored Bee’s scoff and continued.  “You said ‘first’, so I assume there’s a second?” she prompted.

“Right, right,” he nodded, finally seeming to settle a bit, his face becoming a bit more determined and the ‘charming’ smile returning.  “I wanted to ask you about someone.  She gave your name as a reference and I just wanted to see if it was someone we could trust.”

Bee leaned over to Ladybug’s ear.  “Why does he keep smiling like that?” she asked in a normal volume.  She shivered dramatically.  “Creepy.”

Ladybug pursed her lips to stop the noise that wanted to escape, some kind of a combination of frustrated whimper and raucous laugh.  “Okay,” Ladybug smiled tightly, focusing entirely on Nightwing. “Who was it?”

“Yeah, a name would be useful here, Smile Boy” Bee added in.  “Or we could just give our opinion on everyone we know, along with a fashion critique.  We can start with your costume history.”

“Bee, didn’t you have something else to do?  Right now?” Ladybug’s voice was sharper than an obsidian edge.  This was her boyfriend’s… future boyfriend’s?... love interest’s?  Yes, love interest’s brother.  She did not need to piss him off while he was asking her as a ‘reliable source’ about her.

“Nope,” Bee smirked back.

Ladybug groaned and turned to Nightwing.  She nodded off to the side.  “Should we…”

Nightwing nodded and followed her over.  “Ugh, whatever.  I didn’t want to hear anyway,” Bee grumbled and walked to get coffee.

“So, the woman I’m asking about is Marinette Dupain-Cheng.  You may have come across her in Paris?” Nightwing prompted.

Ladybug nodded.  “I have yeah. She’s actually…”  She bit her lip.  She really should have planned this better.  How much should she tell him?  Clearly she wasn’t going to say it was her, but maybe she could say she was a part time hero?  Or maybe she could just say they trusted her.  The point was whether she could be trusted with their identities so maybe exposing her identity, one of them anyway, wasn’t the best idea.  Maybe just that she knew their identities and had never told anyone?  That should work, right?  She just had to…

“It’s just,” Nightwing spoke up misinterpreting her silence, “my brother has kind of fallen for her.”  He watched her face carefully when he said it to see if there was any indication of what she thought of the idea.

Ladybug’s eyes bugged out.  That was not the approach she had been expecting.  She thought he’d focus more on the identity aspect more than the personal aspect.  Not to mention ‘fallen’?  That was… they’d only just met.  She knew he liked her but fallen was pretty strong.  Did Jason really feel that way toward her or was Dick… Nightwing just exaggerating?  And she didn’t even think Jason had told him they were seeing each other, let alone how he felt about her!  She looked up and met his expectant eyes.  Oh right, he was waiting on her to respond.  But how did she respond to that?  “Oh?”  Very eloquent.  Her eloquence was clearly not improving around the bats.

His face scrunched as he studied her reaction.  It was definitely odd.  “Yeah. It’s kind of bizarre really.  Not to say anything bad about Marinette,” he rushed to assure her.  “I don’t know her well enough to judge her, obviously.  That’s why I’m here asking you about her.  But he’s really taken with her really quickly.  I’ve never seen him like this.”  He suddenly stopped and his eyes blew wide.  “Oh God!  Don’t tell her that.  Jason’ll kill me if he finds out.”

“Oh… um…” she looked away suddenly trying to hide her sudden blush and searched for a way to answer.

“Oh my god, y… Dupain-Cheng bagged another hero?” Bee exclaimed slapping Ladybug on the shoulder with her elbow and handing her one of the cups in her hands.

“Bee!” Ladybug exclaimed.  “I thought you didn’t care!  What are you doing here?”

“This is the thanks I get after bringing you tea?” she scoffed in pretend offence.

Ladybug rolled her eyes and let out a long suffering sigh.  “This is just water.”  She brought the cup to her lips.  “Not even hot water!  You brought me a cup of tepid water.”

“Oh my God, can’t you just be grateful I thought about bringing you tea?” Bee exclaimed, exasperation clear in her tone.

Ladybug gave her a deadpan expression.  “Did you though?”

“No, not really,” she shrugged.  “Let’s get back to Dupain-Cheng somehow managing to entice yet another hero though,” she continued, malicious glee sparkling in her eyes.

Ladybug’s mouth dropped in offense.  “She does not date a lot of heroes,” she rushed to assure Nightwing. “Only the one, really…”  She paused and looked at who she was talking to and her eyes widened in realization.  “… not that there’s anything wrong with dating a lot of superheroes… if that’s… um… what you want to do,” she finished weakly.

Bee snickered at the flustered cover-up.  “Yeah, she’s not like some heroes that date everyone they shake hands with.”

Nightwing gave an offended scoff.  “I have not dated that many people… or heroes.”

Bee scoffed.  “Maybe not that are officially sanctioned by the JL.”

“We didn’t say that you did,” Ladybug promised, “did we Bee?” she hissed at Bee through gritted teeth.  “And even if you had, there’s nothing wrong with that.  Right, Bee?  Because there’s nothing wrong with dating around.  Is there?”

“No,” Bee groused.  She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted for a moment before the pout became a vicious grin.  “Yeah, sure, we can stop talking about his dating history.  So, anyway, back to Dupain-Cheng…”

“Oh fu… I can’t believe I walked right into that,” Ladybug grumbled into her hands.

“It may be just the one she actually dated.  The rest just have wet dreams about her.”  She smirked at her.

“Bee!” Ladybug exclaimed her cheeks rapidly turning a dark scarlet.

“Relax, I know you and Dupain-Cheng have a… unique relationship, but that doesn’t change facts.  And pretending like she isn’t getting lusty looks from other people doesn’t change it either.”  Bee rolled her eyes and took a sip of her coffee.  The cup wasn’t nearly big enough to hide her widening smirk.  “You’re just going to have to suck it up.”

Nightwing perked up at that comment.  Well, that was an interesting tidbit.  “So you must know Marinette very well considering you know her dating history so well.”

Ladybug nodded while still glaring at Bee.  “Yes.  You could say that.  We know each other rather well.”

“Extremely well,” Bee agreed, her grin getting even sharper.  “I’ve known her since we were children but Ladybug still knows her much more intimately than I do.  Why don’t you tell him about her?”

“And I would trust her,” Ladybug continued over Bee.  “I have trusted her with a lot, both in and out of the suit.”

Bee cackled at the answer “Yeah LB do tell.  Go on about her amazing attributes.  Tell us all about her.”

“Bee,” Ladybug whined, her cheeks heating up.  Nightwing observed the interaction with a raised eyebrow.

“Come on, he’s going to think you don’t like Dupain-Cheng,” Bee teased.

“What! No!”  Ladybug straightened quickly, her eyes going wide.  “I do!  I like Dup… Marinette,” she glared quickly at Bee before she whipped back to face Nightwing with wide eyes.  “She’s great! She’s ama… She’s…” she faltered.  This was so awkward.  If she and Jason ended up getting serious, Nightwing was eventually going to know who she was and remember what she said here and if she overplayed it, he’d think she was pompous and hate her.  Then his whole family would hate her and Jason would break up with her because his family would convince him she was a terrible influence.

But! But if she wasn’t complimentary enough he’d think she didn’t like… herself and that she wasn’t trustworthy. Then he would convince Jason that it was a mistake to be with her and he’d break up with her because he’d trust his family’s word over hers and think she wasn’t a good person and deserved to be miserable.  She looked back up at Nightwing with a sigh.  “She’s a good person.  She deserves to be happy.”

Nightwing stared into her eyes for a few moments as if trying to read a part of her soul.  Finally, his eyes softened to a more sympathetic glint.  “I was worried about her knowing our identities but I’m mostly worried about him.  He’s been through a lot and he can be pretty hot and cold because of it and I just…”

Ladybug’s eyes softened too.  She looked down for a moment trying to figure out how to word her response.  “She’s… Marinette’s pretty understanding.  She’s had to deal with that before and it didn’t work then but… I don’t think that was on her…”  She pursed her lips and looked down while the memories washed over her. When she looked back up there was a bittersweet look in her eyes.  “She fights for the people she loves.  She puts effort in.  If you’re asking if I would trust her with an identity, I have before and she’s never let me down.  If you’re asking me if I would trust her with your brother’s heart, I would.  Whether it works out with him or not, she’ll still be there for him.  She’ll do everything in her power to protect it.  If you trust me, you can trust her.”

Nightwing reached out and squeezed her shoulder.  “Thank you.  This has been very helpful.  I’m sorry if I brought up any bad memories.”

Ladybug shook her head.  “No, it’s fine.  I hope I made you feel less worried about her.”

Nightwing nodded.  “You did. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome,” Bee interjected loudly.  “Even though you didn’t ask me my opinion.”

“Sorry.  I hadn’t been given your name as a reference,” Nightwing said with only the tiniest touch of condescension.  

“I grew up with her,” Bee scoffed.  “And even though you didn’t ask, I’ll tell you my opinion anyway.”

“Bee…” Ladybug started, but her voice was tired.

“I don’t know who your brother is, but whoever he is…”  Ladybug sighed deeply and dropped her head.  “…he isn’t good enough for her.”  Ladybug’s head snapped up and her jaw dropped.

“Are you… are you admitting you like m… Marinette?”  Ladybug gaped.

“Relax, I’m not like hitting on her or anything.  I’m just...  Shut up.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away with a pout.  After a few seconds she looked back at Ladybug from the corner of her eye and rolled her eyes.  “Close your mouth, LB.  There probably aren’t flies here to fly in, but Beast Boy could always be transformed as a fly for whatever ridiculous reason and if you swallow him we can’t go on our date.”  

“You’re dating Beast Boy?  When did that happen?” Ladybug exclaimed.

Bee grabbed Ladybug’s arm and tugged her back in the direction they had been heading originally.  “I was trying to tell you before we were so rudely interrupted.”

Nightwing watched them walk away with a smile and a small wave.  That was a lot to take in, but at least now he knew she was trustworthy.

<><><><><> 

Marinette had just gotten home and immediately collapsed into her bed after an extremely long and wearing day when he heard an incessant pounding at the door that wouldn't stop.  “What the hell,” she groaned.  She pushed herself off the bed with a great deal of effort and shuffled to the front door. “Somebody better be about to die,” she grumbled to herself, “or someone’s going to be.”  She looked through the peep hole to see a frantic looking Jason. 

She whipped open the door for him.  “Jason! Are you okay?”  She reached to check him over to assure herself he was okay.

Jason stared at her for just a second.  “Dick just… He said… You slept with Ladybug!  She’s the one you dated?” he yelled.

Marinette blinked at him a few times trying to take in what he just said.  “What!?”

Continued in Truth so Cold

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver @ashbrea381writings

[eunoiaflow3r]

not ur friend

spencer reid x reader

aaron hotchner x reader

part two - part three

a/n: haven’t written for spence in a while lol. hope you guys like it. wow...and i wrote him as an ass. bahahaha what am i going through i’m so sorry.

warning(s): language. angst. not proofread. will be mistakes.

word count: 1.8k

request(ed): no.

summary: y/n overhears something she shouldn’t have. this conversation alters her relationship.

not ur friend by jeremy zucker.

———————-——————&————————————

Hang up, if you ever think of calling me up. Not afraid to say it, darling.

3 days.

It’s been an entire weekend of you ignoring Spencer and his ever intruding phone calls. This wouldn’t have been a big deal except for the fact that this felt like a breakup. Your head and heart was treating this like you were in a relationship and he made it painfully clear that you weren’t.

It was quiet in your apartment. The television was off, the radio was silent, the heater had paused and even the refrigerator wasn’t making the usual silent buzz noise it made. The deafness of it all allowed the conversation you heard friday night play over and over again through your ached head.

Friday 11:37 pm.

“So Reid...” you picked up your phone when it rang and read Spencer’s name across the screen. It wasn’t like him to call so late but you picked up anyway. When it was a muffled Morgan’s voice you heard instead of Spencer’s you realized he hadn’t even meant to call you at all.

“How’s your girlfriend?”

You just knew all eyes were on him. Spencer Reid was very private about his social life. It was rare he even told you about anything he’d been up to. He just wasn’t one for small talk. The fact that you just knew they were talking about you made you press your phone harder into your ear even though you weren’t even sure you should have been listening.

“Oh y/n? Yeah she’s definitely not my girlfriend.”

This stung. There wasn’t even a label or anything that you guys put on it, but usually when Spencer would talk about his romantic relationships he’d get nervous and stuttery and try to change the subject. Spencer’s voice was clear and steady. Zero hints of nervousness and bashfulness. He was serious.

“Really?” This was Emily now, you could recognize her voice. “You guys seem like pretty close friends if you know what I mean.” Her tone was laced with humor but Spencer’s was far from joking.

“No. I wouldn’t call us friends either. She’s just someone I visit. Like y’know...how you would a grandmother.”

A grandmother? He compared you to a grandmother? He said visiting you was like visiting a grandmother?? You could feel the tears in your eyes. You really thought Spencer was a good guy. Why would he say something so rude? Something so hurtful about the person he was sleeping with.

It wasn’t a friends with benefits. You guys had agreed on that, but you weren’t dating either. You had met him at a museum and ever since then you two had behaved as if a couple would. The only difference was that you weren’t public. You weren’t posting pictures, or gushing over how cute you thought your “boyfriend” was to your friends. And you were fine with that. Labels are constricting. You were glad not to have them except when he decided to say he barely knew you at all and compared you to a grandmother.

“Damn.” Morgan sounded impressed. “Does she know that?”

“Maybe.” Spencer paused. “There’s nothing really romantic about our relationship. To be honest, she can be a bit needy at times and it’s suffocating.”

He paused again.

“I’m actually thinking of breaking things off. She wants more and I just don’t like her that way.”

Sorry, I'm not sorry if it hurts. I don’t mean to make it worse.

This is where you hung up. Your tears never stopped flowing. How dare he? How dare he say you were needy and suffocating? You rarely asked him for anything, and didn’t bother him with things at all. You knew he was a busy person. A busy and hardworking person. You never tried to ask him for more than he was willing to give. Ever. It hurt your heart to think he was playing you the whole time.

It hurt to think that all the “I adore you’s” and “I think I’m in love with you’s” were all fake. You were pretty sure with the way things were headed that you and Spencer would have much more than just a relationship. Much more than sex and cuddles. But a meaning - an understanding.

Spencer was your comfort. Your safe place. The person you’d go to if you were hurting, or in trouble. You were his. Countless times he came to your house and cried to you about the stress from his job. He’d hold you and tell you all about his day and what more he wished he could have done.

You’d buy him his favorite food and he’d cuddle you to sleep only to wake you up in the morning with kisses and great morning sex. To hear all of that meant basically nothing to him tore your heart to pieces.

It made you want to throw up. Had you wasted your time? Had he felt this way the entire time and you just never noticed because you hoped he felt the same? Were there signs that you missed? Something you could have done to prevent yourself from falling this hard for someone who didn’t care?

But you thought he cared.

Spencer was the most caring, empathetic person you’d ever met in your life. He was so understanding in a way no one could ever get.

I've decided that I'm not your fucking friend.

This is why you thought that maybe this is why he tried to hide you. Maybe he just was afraid of his friends not liking you, or afraid of someone from where he worked would try to hurt you. You prayed this was the case. You hoped and cried that this was the reason he’d ever let those words leave his mouth.

The reason you couldn’t believe this though is something understandable.

He had never, ever, called you anything other than his friend, and never wanted to go out.

He told you it was because he was protecting you, but he never wanted to even meet your friends. And when you talked about a guy or introduced him to one, he’d get upset and say something like, “Yeah well he seems perfect for you anyway. Not like we’re a thing - do what you want.”

And your brain tried to rationalize this as protection. The more you thought about it the more the other part of your brain screamed manipulation. You tried to ignore it but is that what was happening? Had he been manipulating you the entire time and you just never knew it?

If he was protecting you he wouldn’t call you needy. He wouldn’t not even bother to look at your friends. He wouldn’t feel the need to hide you from the entire world and lie about it in such a - douchebag way.

This hurt you though. His team can call out a liar faster than anyone and they would have said something if they thought he was lying. They would have defended you. The wouldn’t have egged him away and joked about you like you were some embarrassing one night stand.

You expected respect and decency and got dishonesty and asshole attitudes instead.

After the weekend of pitying yourself you realized you needed to stop. This wasn’t your fault. He has issues of his own. Issues he needs to work out and come to terms with on his own. Why should you feel anything for a man trying to hide you? Lying to you? Lying to his friends ABOUT you. Reassuring yourself helped but didn’t help the ache in your heart.

Were you ready for this? Were you ready to throw it all away? After all it could just be a misunderstanding. A misinterpretation. It could be your fault. Maybe you were clingy.

No.

No. Absolutely not. You weren’t going to try to defend his actions.

Right now, there's not much that we agree on. Sit down, if you need someone to lean on.

You called him.

“Hello?” he answered right away. “Where have you been are you okay? I was gonna come over and check.”

“Don’t come over.” You cleared your throat and blinked away tears.

“Then please come to mine. I have to talk to you, I missed you.”

He still has no idea. He doesn’t have a clue what you overheard on the phone. All the pieces of the puzzle you put together. All that you’ve realized in the past 3 days.

You rolled your eyes. Any other day you’d think his obliviousness was adorable but right now it only made you want to punch him in his stomach for lying to you and wasting your time.

“I’ll be over to give you your things.”

And you hung up.

That was so hard for you to do and you had hot wet tears running down your face to prove it. No matter how many times you tried to brush them away they just kept on going down.

Fuck him.

A shower and a change of clothes later you were finally ready to see him.

Honest, if I'm coming to your place, it's to say it to your face...

In your car you tried to talk yourself out of it. You told yourself to just forget the phone call over happened and just go back to the way things were. At least you here happy then...at least...sort of. You were okay. You were happy with him. The time you spent with him was enjoyable but you were tired of being his therapist. You were tired of being his dirty mistress. You didn’t want to be lied to or lied about. You were over it.

When you got there he rushed you in the house and looked down at you confusingly.

You had never been inside his place. The only time you were ever really here was when you were inside waiting in the car so that he could change his shirt.

“I thought you were coming tomorrow?”

“I came now to give you your things.”

“JJ will be here soon, you should probably leave. Why did you bring this stuff?”

“They’re yours. They shouldn’t be at my place.”

He looked confused but took the box from your hands anyway.

“I’m leaving.” You simply said and turned towards the door. The sooner you were out the better.

“Can I at least have a kiss?” Spencer asked in the cute voice he knew you liked.

You closed your eyes. “Sorry Reid, but no. I don’t want to seem needy or suffocating, ya’know? Makes it easier to break things off.”

Color drained from his face as he realized what you were talking about. He couldn’t even come up with an excuse other than a - “No, baby I -“

You put your palm in the air facing him telling him to stop.

“It’s okay. I was just someone you visited...like a grandmother. You shouldn’t miss me too much. We’re not even friends, right?”

You walked out of the house.

You walked out on him. Your heart was beating out of your chest. He was always the one to leave. He was always the one to say goodbye.

I've decided that I'm not your fucking friend.

—————————————-#————————————

taglist: @hotchsbabygirl @pinkdiamond1016 @thefemalestorywriter @sizzlingclamturtlesludge @samyilf123

[bukojuiice]

i like you a latte. ➸ coffee shop au headcanons

ೃ pairings: (izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugo, and shoto todoroki x reader)

ೃ  tags: headcanons, coffee shop au!

ೃ warnings:  none

ೃ word count 4572 words

ೃ  my nav  →  my mha writing masterlist  → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ if you want to be a part of my mha taglist. send me an ask!  ♡

ೃ  please do reblog if you enjoyed!! it really helps writers and content creators on tumblr! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!)

ೃ taglist: @chibishae34​ @sparkykatsuki​ @ramunegoddess, @serossimpy

- Katsuki Bakugo

-        Being a barista or just someone who works in a coffee shop in general, leads to a lot of unexpected things.

-        You meet and interact with a lot of busy people every single day. They come and they go.

-        Anything could absolutely happen.

-        But did it ever cross your mind that amongst all these busy people who flock in and out of the café, that you’d fall in love with one of them? Nope.

-        That was until a particularly handsome spiky-haired blonde came crashing into the door with his chaotic friends at his tail, pushing him to confess his feelings to you.

-        How did this come to be? Why you of all people?

-        Bakugo and his squad frequently visit a café that you work in as a barista.

-        You were one to take note of every regular customer you see.

-        You do it for fun most of the time and it’s nice to observe people, especially at a very social job such as this.

-        Katsuki and his friends were a bit loud and stood out in particular. They were good-intentioned people and they looked like they were very fun to be with.

-        They immediately piqued your interest as soon as you saw them line up at the counter, chattering away, their personalities clashing with each other with the way they talked, yet they looked like they were all still the best of friends.

-        Kaminari noticing how cute and pretty you are, and decided to hit on you. Pulling a very lame romantic coffee pun that you’ve heard time and time again.

-        His red-headed friend who was a few places away from him, bonked him in the head for being a weirdo again.

-        You brush him off jokingly, ignoring his pleas and side remarks until he finally tells you his order and apologizes. (Not only for embarrassing himself, but also to you for having to put up with a lame joke.)

-        When it was time for the blonde to order, you notice his expression soften and his voice go low. and as oblivious as you were, you just took it as a casual customer who was just being courteous and respectful to baristas like you.

-        But, you were very very wrong. There was meaning in it all along.

-        “One Pumpkin Spice Latte please.” He announces his order, looking away from you, whilst you can hear his friends snickering behind you as if they were teasing him about something.

-        “Will that be all?” You smile, calculating his order onto the cash register.

-        “Yes.” He nods solemnly, then hands his payment to you.

-        “Name please?”

-        “Katsuki.”

-        Ever since that warm spring day in March, the blonde would visit almost every day.

-        Sometimes with or without his friends, sometimes just dropping by to get his usual drink or staying until closing hours, sometimes ordering his usual Pumpkin Spice Latter or some other drink that surprises you, and sometimes with a book on his hand or typing away on his laptop.

-        And- you never got tired of seeing him.

-        For all the people who come in and out of this establishment, he was special.

-        He became someone whom you couldn’t get out of your head, someone who you were excited to see after a tiring day, and he became a sort of reminder to you as to why you came to love this job in the first place.

-        In fact, you’ve grown to like him by just merely observing him.

-        Sure, there were times when you’d go up to his table and interact with him. Engaging in small talk, albeit sometimes he didn’t seem interested, but you knew he was listening.

-        You wanted to interact with him more than just idle chit chat. More than just asking if he enjoyed his drink or if he need an extra fork or straw. You wanted it to be more than just that.

-        Katsuki feels the same too, but with how unfriendly and aggressive he may look sometimes, he has no idea how to interact with you either. Maybe, he might hurt your feelings or maybe you might misinterpret something he says, prompting you to not approach him anymore.

-        Maybe for the first time in his life, he needed to appreciate and be contented with the little things. No matter how insignificant or trifling they may be, he had to be content with what he has with you right now.

-        That was until today.

-        You take a tray from the counter, and place Katsuki’s drink on it. You walk slowly to his table, showing him your usual smile, sliding his drink off your tray and putting it down on his table. “Enjoy your drink Katsuki-san!” Next, you place tissues and his usual order of honey-glazed donut (in contrast to his every day order of pumpkin spice latte)

-        When… your hand brushed with his.

-        You hear yourself squeal in place, slowly taking back your hand and apologizing. “Ah, I’m s-sorry! Anywho, enjoy your drink!”

-        “Wait.” He grabs your wrist. His touch, soft and gentle, giving you a very different feeling that you would usually feel from a guy like him. “Can I ask for your name?”

-        “Oh. It’s (Y/N)! It’s nice to meet you Katsuki-san! Bye!” You cover your face, running back to the counter to attend to another customer’s order, leaving his table before he was even able to say another word.

-        It was a week before he came back to the coffee shop after that day.

-        You counted the days when he didn’t visit, and because of that, you were in a rather damp and sad mood ever since. Maybe he wanted to tell you something? Maybe he was about to tell you he was never going back to the coffee shop again? Maybe he took the gesture of you running away from him as a sign that you weren’t interested in talking to him that’s why he didn’t bother coming back?

-        It was a regular Tuesday. Taco Tuesday actually. You decided to stop counting the days that Katsuki didn’t visit, maybe he really was gone now.

-        Your eyes lit up at the sight of Katsuki entering the café with his friends. A pink-haired girl, obviously points at you, nudging her blonde friend in the arm. “Go for it! What’s stopping you from talking to her!?”

-        You pay them no mind and divert your attention back to the customer in front of you. Although you were waiting for them to get in line and attend to them.

-        You hear their voices from the back of the line growing louder and louder as they got closer to the counter. You couldn’t help but shake your head and chuckle at the sight of seeing them.

-        “Hi (Y/N=chan)!” Mina beams. Kirishima and Kaminari had their arm around Bakugo’s shoulder at both sides whilst Sero was behind Bakugo making sure he had no chance of escape. “My friend, Bakubro, here wanted to ask you something!”

-        “Sure.” You give them your signature smile. “Is there something up?”

-        “Ooooh! He wants to ask you if-“

-        “Could you guys shut up for a second!?” He turns to his friends, shooting all of them a glare, and you swear you could see him pop a vein on his head. His friends simmer down and hand you a note with all of their orders instead, as they retreat to a table within earshot of the two of you. They flash Katsuki a thumbs up before trying their best to not eavesdrop.

-        He collects himself first, taking a deep breath before finally speaking again.

-        “I was wondering… if you’re free sometime?” He scratches the back of his neck, looking away from you as to not show the cute and dorky blush present on his face. “If you’re not interested though then-“

-        You giggle, reaching for the cup of his pumpkin spice latte and writing something down on it. You put down the orders of his friends on a tray then hand it over to him. “Let’s talk about it later… If that’s okay with you?”

-        He nods, a puzzled look on his face, as he gets out of the line.

-        You notice his friends were about to jump for joy as soon as their explosive blonde friend approach their table, Kirishima grabs Katsuki’s pumpkin spice latte before he takes a sip, then notices what you had written on there. “OH MY GOD!?”

-        “BAKUBRO! SHE GAVE YOU HER NUMBER!?”

-        “WAIT!? WHAT!?” He reaches for his drink, stealing it from his red-headed friend, reading the contents of the cup.

-        You notice him blushing as his friends burst into a fit of laughter. “SMOOTH MOOVES, KATSUKI! YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO DO ANYTHING! YOU WERE THAT OBIVIOUUS!” they continue to tease him as he registers your number into his cellphone.

-        “START EATING YOU LOSERS! WE HAVE A LECTURE WITH A SHITTY PROFESSOR AT 10 AM.”

-        “yeah~ yeah~ yeah~”

-        You giggle at the sight of them relentlessly teasing him still.

-        At the end of your shift, you finally check your phone to be greeted to a text by Katsuki.

-        “Hey (Y/N). Is Friday good with you? I noticed that you don’t work at the café during Fridays, and I wanted to confirm if that’s one of your free days?”

“Of course! And, yes, it is! Can’t wait to see you for the first time out of the café by then!  (´｡• ω •｡`)”

-        “Yeah… see you.”

 - Shoto Todoroki

-        Why is the owner of the coffee shop near your university have to be this hot?

-        The girls around campus call him the Coffee Prince for a reason.

-        Who gave him the right? Who gave him the right to arrive at the very café he owns in a dashing black coat that he matched with a black (sometimes grey) turtleneck, his defined and toned muscles clearly perking from underneath, an expensive watch in his wrist, and some doc. Martens boots to complete the look.

-        Who gave him the right to be this handsome?

-        Did I mention that he’s also a student at the same university you go to?

-        Did I also mention that he sometimes manages the cash register? And how everyone and their mothers flock to the café as soon as they see him at the counter?

-        Shoto Todoroki.

-        That was his name.

-        The youngest son of the Todoroki family who owns pretty much about every corporate building and company in the city.

-        Yet, here he was, managing his little own café. Clearly not interested in the business world that his entire family had built.

-        It was large yet quaint coffee shop, not only were the drinks crafted with love and care along with the snacks and food you can order, but it was also the wonderful smell of scented pinecones wafting around the café. It was heaven. (Just like all coffee shops are, but this one in particular has a special place in your heart, and it’s not JUST because of the handsome man that owns this café.)

-        Shoto was different and a very hands-on kind of guy. If he wasn’t managing the counter, he would be making drinks, messing around in the kitchen, and bringing out yummy cookies and other amazingly baked goods (that he made) as the dish and the dessert of the day.

-        He was very kind to his staff. Making sure the energy was always light and happy. Joking around with them, helping them out, and with the occasional outbursts that customers have, he quickly handles the situation with ease.

-        He was perfect in more ways than one. And with that, he was very much out of your league.

-        Although your friends would encourage you, it wasn’t enough for you to push through with it and talk to him.

-        Besides, it’s not like he has time to talk with customers on a daily basis right? He was a busy man and a college student just like you.

-        You were just like everyone else. Helplessly in love with a guy like him. The rich and handsome young man who looked like he came straight out of a romantic comedy.

-        There is a 0.0001% chance he would even notice you. Why bother trying to compete when there’s so much competition? You weren’t main character material at all. Why would he notice you then?

-        In some days, when busines is slow and the café is quiet, you see him working at the farthest table in the corner, near the charging station. He had a stern and serious face, very much focused on his laptop, typing away, while sipping on a cup of coffee from time to time.

-        Although this happened very rarely since the café was usually packed 24/7.

-        But, when days were extremely slow, these were the perfect times to just admire him from afar.

-        His handsome features, half-and-half colored hair, and his beautiful heterochromatic eyes…

-        Sometimes, he would run his fingers through his hair, and you feel your heart stop every time he does it, that you can’t even focus on the project you were doing.

-        Unbeknownst to you, he too would sneak glances at you from time to time.

-        Maybe, Shoto Todoroki wasn’t the type of guy who would fall in love with the main heroine.

-        Maybe, he wasn’t that kind of person after all this time of thinking that he is.

-        As books and clichés go, maybe you just had to read in between the lines.

-        To notice that he too was in love with you all this time.

-        “Earth to (y/n)?” Ochaco waves a hand in front of you. No answer. The girl huffs and starts to pack up her things. But, before she leaves, at a last attempt to wake you up from your trip to space, she whispers loud enough for you to hear.

-        “Is that Mr. Shoto Todoroki I see shirtless in the corner!?”

-        “You won’t be able to trick me with that Ochaco-chan.” You snap back into reality, shaking your head at your best friend’s failed attempt at trying to get your attention.

-        She winks and grins at you in disbelief. “Still gotcha there love. I’m about to head off to my next lecture, will you be staying here?”

-        “Yup. It’s not too crowded today anyway, and I also need to catch up on my lessons.”

-        “Mkay! I’ll tell Tsuyu and the others to head here after class! See you!” Your brown-haired friend waves goodbye, a ringing bell at the door signaling that she left the premises.

-        You watch Ochaco’s walking figure as she leaves. But, once you turn to sneak a glance at Shoto, you catch his gaze.

-        Oh. my. God.

-        He was looking at you too.

-        You grin sheepishly, waving gingerly at him. “H-hi Todoroki-san…”

-        He returns the greeting by nodding at you, as he gets back to doing his work. (trying to keep his cool as you obviously caught him staring back at you.)

-        You frown as soon as he averts his gaze. Much like him, you go back to focus on the pile of learning materials you had to go through.

-        Someone suddenly enters the store, disrupting you from your studies yet again with how loud they shut the door behind them. Shoto was also annoyed and alerted by this, keeping an eye on the sleazy guy who had just entered his precious establishment.

-        The guy approaches you, shooting you a glare. “This is my seat. Get out.”

-        “Excuse me? I was here first. I don’t see your name anywhere you a-“

-        “What did you say!?” The sleazebag attempts to grab you by the wrist forcefully, trying to drag you out of the table by first. But, before he could, you notice someone grab his arm first, pushing him away from you.

-        “Who the hell are you!?”

-        You look up to see Shoto shielding you, his hand gripping onto the guy’s wrist. You feel your heart beat rapidly at the sight of his tall and well-built figure standing in front of you.

-        “The owner of this café. There are a lot of unoccupied seats in the area that you can sit in, as you can see. Unless you’re blind that is.”

-        “Excuse me!? What kind of asshole are you!? Ain’t the customer always right!? I’m never going back to this shitty establishment!” He flips Shoto off before storming out of the store.

-        Shoto sighs and then turns to you. “Are you okay?” His hand tries to reach out for you, but he hesitates, and stops before you notice him doing so. “Did he hurt you anywhere?”

-        “Ah no. Not really. Don’t worry.” You wave your hands in assurance, a faint blush appearing on your cheeks. “Thank you, Todoroki-san. You didn’t have to do that.”

-        “I had to. You’re an…“ He pauses for a second, as if trying to collect his words and trying his best to not slip up in front of you. “Important customer. I couldn’t stand to see anybody be hurt like that.”

-        “Important customer?” You look at him in disbelief. You turn away from him, trying to process what he had just said. “I’m just another regular old customer who frequents your café. How can I be of importance when nothing stands out about me?”

-        Shoto raises his finger, telling you to wait a moment, and then leaves your table. He collects his things from the place he usually sits at and heads over to sit on the chair opposite of yours. Sitting down on the seat, he brings out his laptop and places his coffee mug on the table.

-        You blink and tilt your head. But on the inside, you wanted to yeet yourself into space because here he was, the guy you’ve been crushing on for almost a year, face to face, your face meters away from his, and the two of you trying to study in peace like some lovey dovey university couple.

-        The two of you continue to make idle chit-chat while working on your respective tasks. You told him your name and in turn, he told you to stop being so formal with him, saying that you calling him Shoto was fine.  He was fun to be with despite the fact that the two of you were quiet throughout the entire time.

-        Time does fly when you’re with your crush, that you didn’t notice it was time for your next lecture. You were about to stand up from your seat when Shoto suddenly speaks.

 -        “(Y/N).” He says sternly. You look up from your computer, continuing to fold it and stuff it in your bag. “Yes?” You reply.

 -        “I was wondering if you wanted to be study buddies? I notice you studying alone most of the time whenever the café isn’t busy, and I think it would be less lonely if we shared a table. Only if you want to though…” He says ever so casually, as if nothing fazes him. Even though on the inside, he was about to die of embarrassment thinking about what would happen if you said no.

 -        “Of course! I’d love to!” You reply coolly, trying to not act like you were about to explode of happiness on the spot. “See you tomorrow, then?” You stand up from your seat, slinging your backpack on your shoulders.

 -        “Yup. See you.” He waves goodbye, watching you leave his café. As soon as you were out of earshot, he breathes a sigh of relief, mouthing a joyful “yes!” as he goes back to what he was doing, and he’ll be in a good mood for the rest of the day.

 -        You did the same too. As soon as Shoto wasn’t within reach, you smile widely, squealing, and clutching your journal to your chest. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. I can’t believe that actually happened.”

 -        This was it. The start of something new.

 -        Your love story with the Coffee Prince was about to begin.

 - Izuku Midoriya

-        Izuku Midoriya is the cute and hardworking barista who works at your favorite café that you and your friends visit every day.

-        Aoyama and Ochaco call him the “matcha haired cutie” for some reason, even though the color of his hair?? is far?? from the color?? of actual matcha??  

-        Even from afar, he just looks like the most precious cinnamon roll ever?? And your heart just can’t stop fluttering at the thought of seeing him every time you drop by to get a cup of coffee.

-        Pls why must this boy be so cute? his floofy dark green-hair do be making all the ladies swoon

-        The coffee shop is flooded with customers every time it’s his shift. Most of them are regulars who find him really sweet + adorable and they spend way too much time at the counter trying to make idle chat with “izuku” (as seen on his name tag) and it’s really annoying.

-        Some bold and confident regulars attempt to ask for his number, but izuku politely refuses.

-        Which means more chances of winning for you (even though you’re in the same level of interaction with izuku as all these other people)

-        When you come up to the counter however, his smile feels different. He shows you a smile that feels so warm and comforting. A smile that reminds you of home. a smile that makes you forget the stress put upon you by college just for a little while.

-        You notice that he adds extra whipped cream and some chocolate sprinkles to your frappe from time to time and you have no idea if this is intentional or if he just does it by accident.

-        Either way, your friends are convinced that it is intentional and it’s some sort of love language/special treatment that baristas have for customers they have a soft spot for.

-        You always greet him warmly. “good morning izuku-kun! How are you today?”

-        He immediately beams at you. “Good morning! It’s been a great day so far! may I take your order?” You then proceed to recite your usual drink.

-        It’s the littlest things and the smallest gestures that matter after all.

-        Sometimes you would space out whilst at the register, not knowing you were next in line (most of the time it’s because you’re trying to think of something witty to say to him)

-        He smiles at the sight of seeing you, “hi! will it be the usual?”

-        “a-ah yes. I’m sorry for spacing out there.”

-        “it’s alright! I feel you! it happens to me all the time too actually!”

-        His smile. His cute little freckles, his friendly aura, and just his entire presence in general. There’s just something about him that draws you in.

-        He reminds you of a little daisy amongst a field of different flowers. pure, bright and very pleasant. Just swaying with the wind and perfectly content with life.

-       If he arrives early from uni, you see him chilling at the mini library of the café and is usually seen engrossed in a classical novel (you’ve noticed he’s been reading a lot of jane austen, franz kafka, f. scott fitzgerald and arthur conan doyle novels recently!)

-        For some reason, when he’s out of his whole barista uniform, no one seems to notice him. It’s like he fades into the background.

-        He’s able to enjoy the peace and solace that loneliness brings, with a frappe or an expresso usually at the table next to him along with a pile of other books.

-        At the insistence of your friends, you decide to approach him and have small talk.

-        That was enough to make you happy even just for a moment.

-        “hi there izu-kun! It’s nice to see you out of your popular barista persona for the day.”

-        “oh? hi (y/n)!”

-        “wait… you know my name?” you immediately feel a faint tint of pink appear on your cheeks, trying your best to hide it from him by covering your mouth until it fades.

-        “of course! i asked one of your friends who regularly visit the shop. Your blonde friend? The one that has these sparkles around him that follow him everywhere?”

-        “aoyama…” you grit your teeth, muttering under your breath.

-        “anyway, would you like to have a seat? It’d be nice to have some company.” he pats the cushion next to him, scooting over to the other side of the sofa.

-        You slowly sit down, feeling yourself shaking a little bit because you had absolutely no idea he even ACTUALLY knew your name and what you had originally wished for, which was just a normal interaction with him, would ESCALATE to this.

-        “What are you reading?” you turn to him, trying to take a peek.

-        “Pride and Prejudice!” he grins, scratching his head sheepishly. “I know it’s not the typical book that you’d expect someone like me to read out in public like this, but mr darcy and elizabeth’s romance throughout the book makes me feel giddy. They’re such a good couple and they’re written so well!”

-        “they are! The dumb English lit major in me wrote a 40-page doc just talking about their love and other classical couples seen in novels! There’s just something about them that makes the book worth reading time and time again!”

-        “Y-yeah…”

-        You notice him grow flustered and nervous all of a sudden and you can’t help but shoot him a puzzled look. “is something wrong Izu-kun?”

-        “I-I actually want to recommend this to you!” He hands you a small and slightly worn book with no cover or title in it. He then takes a look at his watch, his eyes growing wide. “A-ah! It’s time for my shift!” He stands up from the couch, but before he properly leaves, he turns to you and smiles his precious smile again. “see you later (y/n)!” he waves then quickly takes a beeline to the back of the café.

-        You wave back. watching his figure growing smaller and smaller until his disappears when he enters the backdoor.

-        You sigh and start to skim thru the pages of the book, when you notice a yellow sticky note inside.

-        “Words cannot expresso how much you mean to me. Would you like to go out sometime?”

-        And you swear, at that moment, you feel your heart about to combust from happiness. Squealing internally, you hide your flustered expression by digging your face inside the book, not to be seen by anyone else.

-        You were going to savor this moment.

[amazingmsme]

Well if You Really Don’t Like Him...

AN: Here’s that fic about Godot flirting with Phoenix just to get at Edgeworth. This was seriously SO much fun to write! Ugh I love all these dorky ass lawyers, I need more content. So here you go, have some jealous Edgeworth, flustered Wright, & a very flirty Godot, all served to you on a silver platter!

Godot sat in the prosecutions office, reading over some old case transcripts. Detective Gumshoe was mulling about the room, browsing some of the books on the shelf. Godot snickered to himself, drawing Dick's attention.

"Something funny Prosecutor?" he asked with a curious smile. It was rare that he heard the other man laugh, so it warmed his heart to hear the sound.

"Yeah, actually. I can't help but notice... Is something going on between Edgeworth and Trite?" he asked, holding a page closer as he inspected the words. "I mean, it's hard to pick up a person's tone just from text, but I can't imagine another way to interpret this," he mused.

"Who? Oh you mean Wright! Yeah, we've all been wondering the same thing. He and Prosecutor Edgeworth have more chemistry than a chemical reaction!"

Godot smiled and shook his head. "Your analogy is weaker than decaf, but your point still stands."

"Hey!" Gumshoe shouted defensively, pouting at the other man's words.

"So I'm not crazy? Do they actually like each other? Because I can't possibly find any other meaning behind, "Court is no place for such fanciful stories. But if you drop by my office, I'd be more than willing to... indulge you?" Did Miles actually say this shit?" he asked, barely containing his laughter. One hand pressed against his forehead, fingers curling in the white locks as his shoulders shook with his chuckles.

"Heh, yeah I remember that. Poor Nick blushed redder than a ripe tomato!" he exclaimed, smiling at the memory.

"Hm, so Trite embarrasses easily? That's interesting," he hummed.

Detective Gumshoe shrugged. "Yeah, but he seems to get flustered a lot more when Edgeworth's involved," he explained. He found the book he'd been searching for, and bid him ado with a nod and quick wave. Diego was left pondering the new information, a sly smirk forming on his face.

The next day he strode into Edgeworth's office with even more swagger than usual. He sat on the corner of his desk, crossing one leg over the other. He slurped his coffee loudly to gain the other's attention. Miles sighed and glanced up at him.

"May I help you?"

"Who me? Nah, I just came in here to chat," he said, but the grin on his face told of an underlying motive.

"Please, you of all people are the last to want to chat while working. What's really going on?" he asked, cutting to the chase. Godot shrugged.

"A little birdie told me you might have feelings for Trite."

Miles stiffened, but other than that showed no outward emotions. "His name is Wright, and that's preposterous. I merely admire his skill in court and respect him as a peer. You would be wise to do the same."

"Really? 'Cause Dick sure thinks there's something more to it," Diego said. Edgeworth snorted out a puff of air in lieu of a laugh.

"And you believed him? Gumshoe is a well intentioned man, but he can let his imagination get the better of him."

"Transcripts don't lie bud. And I can smell the truth like a fresh pot of coffee." Miles rolled his eyes.

"Of course you can," he said sarcastically. "Now if you're done reciting your little fairytales, I'd love to get back to work," he said, opening a thick binder and smacking Godot's leg with the front half as he opened it. He stood, getting the hint.

"You know, that reminds me of something you said to Trite in court," he spoke as he began to pace the room. He piqued his interest, so he continued. "Something about fanciful stories, and him stopping by your office to "indulge" you," he said using air quotes.

Miles abruptly stood, slamming his hand on the desk. "That's out of context!"

Godot shrugged, swirling the coffee in his cup. "Trust me, the context doesn't make it sound any better. I'm surprised the two of you ever manage to reach a verdict, what with all the flirting going on."

"It's not flirting! It's merely playful bickering between childhood friends, nothing more," he reasoned.

"Is that what you call it?" he asked, cocking his head to the side and stuffing his free hand in his pocket. Edgeworth practically growled at him, shooting a harsh glare his way.

"What exactly are getting at Godot?" he asked crossing his arms over his chest.

"So you really don't like Trite?"

"For the last time, his name is Phoenix Wright. The fact that you don't refer to him as such is wildly immature and petty."

Godot smirked in triumph. "You sure are defensive of him."

"Of course I am; he's my friend and a talented attorney who, might I remind you, proved my innocence and convicted my father's true murderer. So I won't stand idly by while you blatantly disrespect him," he snapped. He turned his back to him, busying himself with straightening stacks of paperwork.

"You misinterpret my intentions," he said, holding up his hand placatingly. Edgeworth looked over his shoulder, watching as he sipped his coffee.

"Then enlighten me."

"I admit I've been giving him a hard time. But most guys do that when they have a crush," he bluffed. Miles whipped around to face him.

"Ha! You're lying through your teeth, I know how much you despise him," he said, seeing right through the lie.

"Do you? Or was that just a front I put up to hide my feelings?" Edgeworth paused, considering the possibility.

"I don't know what your angle is, but you should stop while you're ahead. If you're only doing this to get at me, then I'm telling you right now it will all be in vein. But please, don't bring Phoenix into this if it's only a farce. He's had his heart broken before, and I won't allow you to needlessly toy with his emotions."

"Aw, how noble. Truly a knight in shining armor. But if you aren't in love with him, why should you care?"

Edgeworth recoiled, a pink tint coloring his cheeks at the L-word. "B-because he's my friend!"

Godot smiled softly, staring at his reflection in the dark liquid inside his cup. "I wondered what had happened to the hard ass prosecutor I knew. What made you go soft. But then I met Mr. Wright," he said, complying with his wishes and using his actual name.

"Don't act like I was someone to admire. I had lost myself and forgot what justice really meant. He merely opened my eyes," he explained.

"Now that's sounds like a love confession if I've ever heard one. You two go together like coffee and cream: he sweetened the dark bitterness you're known for and made you more palatable."

Edgeworth straightened to his full height, hair falling in front of his face. "Excuse me? I refuse to be insulted in my own office!"

"Well that was hardly an insult."

"You just called me bitter an insinuated that I was intolerable," he deadpanned.

"Heh, I did, didn't I? Well I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"Whatever. I request that you leave my office so that I may get back to work," he said, sitting back down at his desk.

Godot snorted in amusement. "That's the kindest way I've ever been told to get the hell out."

"Now."

"Alright, alright." He turned to leave, but paused at the door. Miles sighed deeply.

"What now?"

"If you really don't like him, then you shouldn't mind if I flirt with him, right?" he asked smugly. Edgeworth's head snapped up with a gasp. He made to stand, a protest already on the tip of his tongue, but Diego shut the door before he could say anything.

Miles was left in his office, seething with a quiet rage. He couldn't go after him, that would only prove his point. So he did the only thing he could think to do. He pulled out his phone and texted Franziska.

be mean to Godot

A few minutes later, his phone dinged with her reply.

lol ok. Why?

because we're mad at him >:(

what did that fool do now?

He thought about his answer carefully before sending it.

he's going to break Wright's heart

No, he couldn't send that.

he accused me of being in love with Wright

He shook his head, deleting the message and starting over.

nothing. Just let him know you're angry

haha got it. I'll whip his mask clean off his face! >:)

He chuckled softly at his sister's antics.

maybe not that mean

By the next day, Miles had mostly forgotten about his conversation with Godot. That was until he walked into the courthouse and was greeted by his stupid smug face.

"There you are Edgey boy!" he greeted enthusiastically, coffee sloshing in its mug.

"Don't call me that."

"Right, only Phoenix can call you that," he teased. Miles allowed a smirk to grace his features.

"Or Larry. He was the one who came up with the nickname after all." Godot hummed as he walked beside him. For a moment, the only sound was their shoes clacking in unison on the linoleum tiles. Then they spotted Phoenix and Maya come out of a debriefing room. Miles shot Godot a glare.

"Don't you dare," he threatened.

"Oh I dare," he said, trotting away and over to his target. Phoenix spotted him coming his way and quickly turned around, grabbing Maya's arm and speed walking away. He kept his head down and eyes focused on the ground. Maya let out a small "ope" sound as he dragged her along. She looked over her shoulder to see what made Nick turn so abruptly down the hall.

"Uuuh Nick? Godot's jogging right towards us," she whispered.

"I know," he said, keeping his voice down.

"Well what did you do?" she asked before plastering on a wide smile to hide her confusion when the man approached suddenly. "Heeeey!" she waved, coming off as overly friendly in an attempt to hide the fact they were just talking about him.

"Hey Trite, whatcha been up to?" he asked, sidling up next to him. He slung his arm around his shoulders and pressed into his side. Phoenix made a small noise of shock, body going rigid.

"Umm, I was in a briefing," he said, casting a glance towards Maya. She merely shrugged.

"That's nice. So what's this case about?" he asked, letting genuine curiosity seep into his voice. Edgeworth was grumbling to himself as he stormed after him. He needed to intervene somehow.

Phoenix was slightly taken aback by the question. "Oh! It's nothing too exciting, just an assault charge."

Godot clicked his tongue, tipping his mug in his direction. "That's a real shame, your best work is on murder cases."

Wright blinked in surprise. "Really?" he asked skeptically. "I thought you said that I was a sloppy rookie who didn't deserve to be where I am today," he sassed, crossing his arms and looking him up and down.

He winced slightly, hearing his own words said back to him. He needed to try to smooth this over to seem sincere.

"Oooooo," Maya said in typical childish fashion, like when another student is called to the principal's office. She shut herself up when Godot shot her a look. A small, guilty smile was still on her face however.

Edgeworth had been able to hear most of the conversation and was eager to hear the prosecutor dig himself out of that one.

"My opinion of you is starting to change amigo," he said smoothly, taking a sip. Phoenix's eyes widened in surprise.

"I'm truly shocked to hear you admit that you've changed your mind," Miles spoke snidely. He purposefully stood closer to Phoenix, subtly separating the two. Godot noticed and smirked.

"What can I say? It's called growing as a person," he snarked back. Godot reached out and grabbed Edgeworth by the shoulder, then had the gall to shove him out of the way. He leaned into Wright's personal space, posture lax with one hand in his pocket. Phoenix had a nervous grin on his face, cheeks growing pink.

"Aaah I'm- glad for the personal development," he said, arching his back a bit to lean away. He gave a quick and confused glance towards Miles, as if to say "what the hell's going on?"

"Didn't anyone ever teach you about personal space? I'm sure he would prefer not to have to smell your coffee breath," he scolded, and this time it was Godot's turn to blush from embarrassment.

Maya snorted and giggled softly, and Phoenix had to plaster his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. His cheeks were puffed up with air as he struggled not to chuckle along. The sight was utterly adorable, and Miles felt pride in the fact that he made him laugh.

Godot's lip twitched in an angry sneer as he straightened his tie. "For your information, my breath is perfectly fine. I make sure to always have gum on me," he explained. Maya and Phoenix shared a look somewhere between amusement and annoyance at their exchange.

Godot looked over at Phoenix and flashed his most dazzling smile. "After all, you never know when you'll need fresh breath."

He let out a quiet gasp, eyes shifting down to his mouth for a split second. Godot pulled out his pack of gum, flicking it open with his thumb. "Care for a piece?"

"Oh! I-um- sure," he stuttered, reaching out and taking one.

"Sweet! Can I have some?" Maya asked, batting her eyes. Godot looked down at her, deflating slightly as he remembered she was there. "Oh, yeah I guess," his voice didn't have near the same tone as when he was addressing Phoenix. She either didn't notice or didn't care, snatching two pieces of gum. She offered one to Edgeworth, which he accepted with a soft smile.

"Thank you Maya. I think I'll save mine for later. Like you said, I never know when I'll need a fresh mouth," he said, looking at Phoenix as he finished the sentence.

He smiled and looked down at the floor as his cheeks got redder.

Maya didn't know what was going on exactly, but she could definitely sense the awkward tension between Edgeworth and Godot. And it was clear that Phoenix was caught in the middle of their exchange.

"Um, I'm just gonna pick Pearl up from the play room," she excused herself, heading to the courthouse's daycare.

"Oh good. Maybe Edgey would like to go with you," he volunteered the other to leave. Phoenix quirked a brow hearing the nickname leave Godot's mouth. "Since when did you start calling him that?" He only received a shrug and a crooked grin in return.

"No offense Maya but I would not. Wright and I have plans for lunch," he bluffed, making said plans up on the spot.

"We do?" Phoenix asked, brows furrowing. Then his eyes widened as he caught on. "Oh yeah we do!" He stood next to Edgeworth, his shoulders releasing visible tension as he did so.

"Oh really? Where are you eating?"

They responded in unison, but with different answers.

"Jack's Burger Shack."

"Sashimi Temple."

Godot smirked, catching them in their lie. "Well? Which is it?"

"We haven't decided," Wright said, looking at Miles for "confirmation."

"Right. I'm good with whatever you want," he said, smiling at Phoenix.

"How can you tell when he's agreeing with you and when he's just saying your name?" Godot teased. He couldn't help but giggle at the question.

"Heh, I don't know, I guess I've just learned how to tell the difference," he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, a half smile on his face and eyes squinted shut. Godot couldn't help but notice the strain on the fabric of his suit as he stretched his arm.

"Whoa, you been workin' out Trite?" he asked and before he could answer, he reached out and squeezed his bicep. His face flushed at the contact.

"Oh y-yeah, you noticed? Glad to see it's starting to pay off," he said, admiring his own arms. He flexed again, striking a new pose.

"Mind if I start calling you espresso? 'Cause you sure can pack a punch," Godot all but purred. Edgeworth couldn't believe that Phoenix was falling victim to his sleazy charm. Who was he kidding, if someone as attractive as Godot hit on him, he'd cave just as quickly. He had to refrain from sneering.

"Ha! If you want I guess you could. But don't start calling me short," he said pointedly, but with just enough playfulness to still be considered flirty. Miles's eyes were still transfixed on Wright's admittedly large biceps. Godot saw the opening and took the shot.

He snapped his fingers right in his face to gain his attention. H blinked and flinched, attention drawn to his smug face. "Earth to Edgeworth. You copy?" He scoffed and shoved the hand out of his face. Phoenix nudged him gently.

"If you wanted to feel them too you could've just said so," he teased.

"That's not-" but his denial died on his tongue when he was met with both of their knowing looks. He turned his head away but still reached out to feel his arm. There was no way he was passing up that opportunity.

"Hard as a rock, huh?" Phoenix asked and yes, he was totally fishing for compliments.

"I was going to say like sculpted marble," he said smoothly. Miles couldn't let Godot be the only one flirting with him. Said man only smirked wider, seeing as he was proven right. Regardless what Edgeworth said after this, it would be undeniable that he had feelings for the defense attorney.

"So, you got room for one more or are you dining at a table for two?" he questioned, subtly inviting himself. Edgeworth was ready to shoot down the request, but Wright beat him to it.

"Uh, sure you can join." Curse his kind nature.

"Sweet. Not as sweet as you, coffee creamer," he let his voice drop an octave, flashing another dazzling smile. Phoenix giggled and hid his face in one hand.

"Oho man, that was like, really stupid."

"Made you laugh, didn't I?" he teased, propping his elbow on his shoulder as they walked. Miles walked behind them and watched the prosecutor like a hawk, gritting his teeth all the while. He was relieved when they got to the parking lot.

"Wright, would you be a dear and ride with me? I'd like your opinion on this case I'm working on," he requested. He immediately perked up and walked over, leaving Diego's side.

"Sure, I'd love to! It'll be nice to give my legs a break from all the pedaling," he joked, walking over to his car and pulled the door handle. When it didn't open he frowned and tried again. And again. He kept pulling, making the annoying clicking noise each time it failed to open the door. "Miiiiiles," he whined.

He shook his head with a fond smile, chuckling softly. He unlocked the car just as Phoenix tugged again. He wasn't expecting that and stumbled a few steps backwards. Godot, never one to miss an opportunity, purposefully knocked his foot out from under him, just so he could catch him in a dip.

Edgeworth gasped as he saw him fall, clenching his fist as he watched Godot swiftly catch him like some kind of techno prince charming. Phoenix let out a small yelp as he fell, gripping onto his vest as he was caught.

His mouth was slightly agape as he stared up at Godot. He wore a sly yet heart-melting grin. Phoenix stuttered out a quiet thank you.

"It was no problem. Be sure to watch your footing next time though," he said, clicking his tongue. The ace attorney felt his heartbeat quicken and butterflies fluttered inside his stomach. Edgeworth's eye twitched in anger and he cleared his throat.

"If my eyes serve me well, which they do, it was you who tripped him," Miles called him out. Godot shrugged guiltily and helped steady him on his feet.

"What can I say? It was just too tempting, just like how you look in that suit," he went on to compliment him. Phoenix's eyes widen, cheeks flushed. He ran a hand through his hair nervously.

"M-me?" Godot nodded.

"Mhmm. It really brings out your eyes. Not to mention how nicely tailored it is." He bit his lip, looking him up and down. "You're about as enticing as a hot steaming cub o' joe," he flirted, laying it on thick. Wright's face turned beat red and he looked at the ground, flattered giggles leaving his lips. He tugged on the collar of his shirt. Edgeworth was by his side in an instant, ushering him closer to the car.

"Where you off to in such a hurry?" he taunted.

"Jack's Burgers," he practically growled, walking around the front of his car. He plopped in the driver's seat as Phoenix closed his door, waving at Godot as they drove off.

Edgeworth's jaw was set and he gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. Phoenix placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and he relaxed slightly.

"Miles what's wrong? You've been in a bad mood since I've seen you. Is it the case? Is that why you've been so grumpy?" he asked, concern clearly written on his face.

He sighed deeply. He should probably be honest with him- or rather halfway honest. He couldn't possibly tell him the whole truth.

"Actually I lied about that. I simply wanted to get away from him." Phoenix snorted in amusement.

"What's this? The great Miles Edgeworth lying? This must be serious," he chuckled, bumping their shoulders together.

He seemed to relax now that it was just the two of them. "He was really starting to get on my nerves."

"Yeah I noticed. He seemed to be in a lot better mood today, especially towards me. I don't know, but I can't help but think he's after something," he pondered aloud. Miles glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

"He's a top prosecutor, he's always after something."

"You're not," Phoenix said gently. Edgeworth took a breath to steady himself.

"How do you know we're not after the same thing?" They reached a red light and he turned to look at him.

"I'd ask what it is, but I have a feeling you won't tell me," he smirked.

"You're right, as usual."

"Well it is my name after all," he joked. Miles chuckled and shook his head.

"That was awful. Why did I laugh?"

"Because you love me," he teased. Oh if only he knew how accurate that statement was.

"Heh, I suppose I do somewhat."

"Nah you adore me. Admit it, I'm your favorite person," he goaded, leaning into his personal space. He even went as far as to lay his head on his shoulder.

"You're tied with Franziska," he admits.

"Wow, that's high praise." He hummed in agreement.

When they arrived at the diner, Godot was already waiting for them. Miles rolled his eyes as  he spotted him leaning against the wall near the entrance. And where the hell did he find a toothpick? One leg was propped against the brick, arms folded across his chest and fuck he looked cool. If Edgeworth were a lesser man, he'd want to slap him.

"There you are! For a hot second there I thought you might've changed your mind and tried to ditch me," he taunted.

Miles wore a bored expression. "Don't tempt me."

"Hey, what happened to the Edgeworth that was in the car? All relaxed and smiley?" Phoenix asked, even poking his cheek to try and break the stern facade. He couldn't help but grin at the playful gesture.

"Ah, probably 'cause I'm here," Godot waved him off.

"Yes, that's precisely it," he answered with a rude smirk. Phoenix gasped.

"Miles!" he scolded.

"No no, it's completely my fault. I barged into his office and gave him a rude awakening of sorts. Please, allow me to make it up to you. Edgey."

He scoffed and Godot wrapped his arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. "Lunch, my treat." When Miles turned to look at him, they were practically nose to nose. And Godot was so smug, it was infuriatingly amusing. He cracked a smile and shook his head.

"I'd be a fool to pass up a free lunch."

"Atta boy!" he cheered, pulling Phoenix closer in the same manner.

They were seated at a booth in a corner. Godot motioned with a bow for Phoenix to sit first. He chuckled and slid into the seat. Before Miles could make it to the seat next to him, Godot sat down in the empty spot in one fluid movement. He shot Edgeworth a victorious smirk.

Wright picked up on the tension, drumming a rhythm on the table and whistling quietly. He tried to make small talk.

"Sooo Godot. Saying you like coffee would be an understatement. I'm curious, if you could make your own coffee, what would you call it?"

He perked up at the question, scratching the stubble on his chin. "I couldn't just make one coffee, I'd have a whole brand. It would be an assortment of the darkest roasts and combination blends out there. I think our signature brew would be called Laser Beans. Ya get it? Like laser beams but it's coffee beans," he rambled on about his imaginary coffee business.

"Please, you do not have to explain the elementary concept of your pun," Miles quipped. Just for that, Godot scooted closer to Wright.

"Another popular blend: number 162, the Phoenix. Strong and sweet, with an unexpected fiery kick that rises from the grounds. Just what you need on those long, rough days." Phoenix gulped, staring at the red lines of his mask. Godot cocked his head, looking over at a furious Edgeworth.

"Wouldn't you agree Miles?"

"Yes- I mean no- I mean- I'm not much of a coffee person," he fumbled over his words. He jerked his head to the side, focusing on a crack in the wall.

"I think he's just too embarrassed to admit it," he whispered loudly, making eye contact with Miles as he said it.

"Heh, yeah you got him good with that one," Phoenix agreed.

"Ngh- who's side are you on anyways?" he asked defensively.

"My side," he said, clearly proud of himself. Miles softened at those words, unable to stay annoyed at him.

"Of course you are."

The waiter came and took their drink orders before leaving them be.

"I'm surprised you got water. I was expecting coffee," Phoenix mused.

"It's important to stay adequately hydrated," he explained, browsing through the menu.

"With how much you drink it, I would've thought you'd drop dead asleep without it," Edgeworth teased, looking at his own menu.

"Nah, I could drink eight cups and go to sleep right after. I'm used to the caffeine," he said casually.

"Wait, then what do you do when you need to stay up? Drink a whole pot?" Phoenix asked, bumping their shoulders together. He turned to him with his most charming smile.

"Well, instead of coffee keeping me awake, I could just have you," he said in a sultry voice. Phoenix flushed a dark crimson with an embarrassed, lopsided grin on his face as his eyes shifted between Godot and Miles. He was rendered speechless, the only sound he was able to make was a drawn out "uuh."

Godot grunted in pain when Edgeworth swiftly kicked his shin.

"Quite forward, aren't we?" he growled.

"You know I am," he said, snapping his fingers at him.

"And has your vulgar cockiness ever gotten you far?" he countered.

"Sure it does. I always make it to home base," he teased. Miles was relieved when the waiter came to set their drinks down, disrupting the conversation. They asked if they were ready to order yet, but Godot had spent so much time flirting with Phoenix, that he'd barely looked at the menu. And Miles was so busy keeping him in line that he didn't know what to order either. So they asked for a few extra minutes.

"You should really consider using your time wisely," Edgeworth advised. Godot snorted and mumbled something about him doing the same.

"I think I'm gonna have the Jack classic, what about you?" Phoenix asked, looking across the table at Miles.

"I think I'll have the same," he said, offering a warm smile.

Godot's smirk grew. "I'm leaning more towards the thhhick patty," he said, drawing out the word. Phoenix arched a brow and chuckled.

"You really put a lot of emphasis on the word thick there," he teased.

"What can I say? I like a lot of meat on my buns," he leaned closer, placing a hand on Wright's knee and squeezed gently. Phoenix giggled and scooted away in the seat.

"Hey, watch it. I'm ticklish," he admitted. Godot grinned like a shark.

"Oh Trite, don't you know that's not something you admit?" he teased, repeating the motion. Phoenix barked out a laugh, pushing the hand away playfully. Miles was glaring daggers at them and grit his teeth. He was the picture of jealousy.

When Wright moved his hand away, Godot purposefully interlocked their fingers so that they were holding hands. Edgeworth let out an angry huff and held the menu up to block his view. Or maybe to prevent them from seeing the sneer on his face. The world is cruel however, and Godot is even crueler. Which is exactly why he grabbed the top of the menu and pulled it down to meet his eyes directly.

"Thought you said you knew what to order. Why're you hiding from us?" he asked, elbows propped on the table as he leaned forward.

"I... I'm not! I simply thought I saw someone I don't particularly like and didn't want them to see me. But looking at them now I realize my mistake," he easily lied.

"Yeah, you and I have made a lot of enemies," Godot agreed. He looked between Wright and Edgeworth. "At first I thought you two were. But now that I've gotten to know you both a little more, I realize that couldn't be farther from the truth." As much as he loved riling Miles up, his ultimate goal was to make him admit his feelings for the other.

They both flushed a pale pink, looking away. After the waiter took their orders, Phoenix excused himself to the bathroom. Godot was smiling smugly as he watched him leave.

"It's times like these that I'm grateful for my visor. It would be a real shame if I wasn't able to watch that ass leave, wouldn't you agree?" he asked, looking at him with a shit eating grin. Miles slammed a fist on the table in anger.

He spoke low so as to not cause a scene, but his jaw was still clenched. "I order you to stop this at once."

"What, the flirting? You said you didn't like him, so why should it bother you?" he asked innocently.

"You speak out of your ass, you use crude and childish humor, you're completely insincere, your pick up lines are cheesy and all coffee related, and you're invading his personal space constantly!" he scolded quietly. Godot shrugged.

"He sure doesn't seem to mind. Maybe he likes the attention. People tend to enjoy my company," he bragged.

"You have no intentions other than making me angry," he pointed out.

"And it's working," he boasted. Miles's mouth gaped open as he thought of a response.

"So what if it is? I could just as easily be angry due to the fact that he's my friend, and you're nothing more than some- some playboy who's trying to prove a point!"

"Aww you think I'm a playboy? That's my new favorite compliment," he said, resting his chin on his hands.

Edgeworth raised an unamused brow. "It really shouldn't be. You're classier than that, Diego."

He snorted in amusement. "Even after all those things you said about me?" Miles rolled his eyes fondly.

"Yes, even after all that. So be the bigger man and put an end to this," he reasoned.

"Depends. You got a crush on Wright?"

"I still don't see how that's any of your business."

He shrugged, halfway triumphant. "Hey, that's better than the harsh no I got earlier. You'll admit it sooner or later."

"Not to you I won't," he growled. Edgeworth fiddled with his napkin and laid it across his lap neatly.

"To be honest, I don't care if you admit it to me."

He cocked his head, looking at him skeptically. "You don't?"

Godot shook his head. "No. I just want you to admit it to Trite."

Edgeworth's eyes widened and he recoiled slightly at those words. "Are you insane? I can't possibly tell him that!"

"Tell me what?" Phoenix asked as he walked up. Miles stuttered out an answer.

"Oh! Um, I-I'll tell you later. Now isn't... a good time."

Phoenix gave him a look as he sat down next to him. "You sure you're okay? You're acting, I don't know, weird."

Edgeworth was going to come up with something to say to that, but Godot beat him to it. He held his hands up in surrender. "You got us. There's no reason to lie to him any more Edgey. Truth is, he's planning you a surprise party."

Phoenix's brows shot up. "Wow really? But it's not for another two months or so."

"Yeah well, you know him. Always so organized, and he thinks three steps ahead. Sorry about ruining the surprise," Godot apologized for wrecking the fake party.

Wright rubbed the back of his neck and offered a shy smile. "Don't be! Knowing me, I'll probably forget about it by then. So-"

He was cut off by Godot's phone ringing. "Sorry, one sec." He checked the caller ID, brows furrowing. "That's weird, it's Gumshoe. Hope everything's okay." He answered the call with a flick of his wrist, holding the phone up to his ear. "Hey Dick, everything cool?"

"IT MOST CERTAINLY IS NOT COOL!" Gumshoe screamed into the speaker. Godot winced and held the phone away from his ear. Edgeworth and Wright shared a look of slight concern.

"Is everything okay?" Phoenix asked quietly. Godot nodded and waved a hand as if to say "all good."

"Hey keep your voice down will you? You're about to burst my eardrum," he said with a small chuckle.

"NO I WILL NOT! JUST WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GETTING BETWEEN PHOENIX AND EDGEWORTH LIKE THAT?" Both men in question went stiff as a board, faces turning red.

Godot paled as he was chewed out. "Uuh hey this really isn't the time-"

"I DIDN'T TELL YOU THEY HAD THE HOTS FOR EACH OTHER JUST SO YOU COULD SWOOP IN AN' TRY TO STEAL WRIGHT AWAY LIKE THAT!"

Godot offered them an embarrassed grin. "Uh, can you excuse me?" They both refused to meet his gaze and just hummed in agreement. The prosecutor slid out of the booth, holding the phone up to his ear, speaking in a hushed yet firm tone.

"Listen Dick, you got it all wrong. I was just-"

"No you listen to me pal! Maya told me the whole thing!"

Godot walked into the bathroom of the restaurant to have a more private conversation. "Look, it's not like that. I'm not trying to hook up with Trite or whatever you think is going on."

"... You're not?" Gumshoe asked, sounding skeptical.

"No. In fact, I'm trying to get them together." Gumshoe snorted.

"You sure got a funny way of showing it."

"I'm making Edgeworth jealous so that he'll admit his feelings," he explained, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Ooooh, that's smart!"

"Yeah, so don't go blabbering to Phoenix. I know you can't keep a secret."

"Hey I can totally keep secrets! I just don't want to very often!" he defended himself.

"Alright, are we done here? 'Cause we're out at lunch, and our food should be getting here soon."

"Okay yeah, sorry about the mix up. I'll let you get back to lunch," Dick said, hanging up. Godot heaved a sigh of relief, wiping a few beads of sweat from his forehead.

Meanwhile, Phoenix and Miles sat in an awkward silence as they watched Godot leave. Miles was sitting rigidly, staring at the napkin in his lap. Phoenix twirled the straw around in his glass.

"C-can you believe him? Heh, Gumshoe sure does have an active imagination," Wright said nervously, desperate to break the silence. Miles was quick to agree.

"Yes, he does," he allowed a soft smile to grace his features. "I suppose he's a romantic at heart," he reasoned.

"Uh, yeah. I guess he is," he agreed. The expression on his face was a mixture of nervousness, confusion, and a touch of sadness. Edgeworth took a deep breath. It was either now or never.

"But is he wrong?"

Phoenix whipped his head over to look at him. "What?" He tried to mask the hopefulness in his voice.

"While what he says may seem odd or far fetched at times, he's usually right." He spared a glance at Wright, trying to read him.

"Miles, a-are you saying-"

"I like you Phoenix. As a friend, yes, but... also more," he finally admitted.

Phoenix practically lit up. "Really? Wow that's- I mean- I've liked you since the third grade!" he blurted out, relieved to finally get this off his chest.

"I... also had a bit of a crush. And when we met in court that first time, all those feelings I thought I'd left behind came flooding back." Wright reached out, holding his hand. They stared at each other, warm smiles lighting up the room.

Miles started chuckling softly, and Phoenix cocked his head, an amused smirk on his face. "What's so funny?"

"Godot was doing all this to make me jealous, so that I'd admit my feelings. And it worked."

He nudged him with his elbow teasingly. "Well then, I guess a thank you's in order." Edgeworth groaned, though it was just for show.

"If I thank him then I'll never hear the end of it," he complained lightheartedly.

"Maybe that's not the worst thing. You're cute when you're annoyed and embarrassed," Phoenix cooed, propping his arm on the table to rest his chin in his hand. Miles blushed softly.

"S-stop it, that's supposed to be my line," he grumbled playfully, looking away. Phoenix smirked and pecked his cheek, relishing in the way his blush darkened considerably.

Godot was watching from around the corner of the hall, letting them have their moment. He wore a satisfied smirk as he walked up to their table. Both Wright and Edgeworth scooted away, acting as though nothing had happened.

"Don't play coy you two. I knew my plan would work. You're welcome by the way." They were both rendered flustered and speechless, even as the waiter set down their food.

[little-diable]

Oh professor - Jasper Hale (smut)

Request by a sweet anon: Hi!! Love your work so much!! (I literally read it every night before bed haha) Could you please write something smutty about Jasper Hale being a college professor and Y/N being a student with prompts 27 & 34? Thank you!!

Hi lovie, thank you very much. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Professor Hale finally gets his chance to claim (y/n), calling her his. 

Warnings: professor x student, pure smut, no plot, age difference (reader is of age) 

Her (y/e/c) eyes would be the death of him, Jasper had always managed to keep his composure, not affected by the way certain students would stare at him, but as soon as he had taken in her frame for the first time he was done for, completely obsessed with his student. She’d be just as mesmerized, careful not to let anything slip, keeping her crush to herself, desperately trying to get the highest grades, impressing him with her knowledge.

“Come in”, his voice boomed through the hallway, golden eyes taking in her frame as she stepped into his office, holding onto her bag, a frown graced her features. “(Y/n), what can I do for you?”, his accent made her swoon, knees weak with every step she took towards him. A sigh rumbled through her, eyes falling down onto the paper she kept carrying around, “do you have any time to talk about my grade? I’m not quite sure why I only got a B on this one”.

She felt disappointed, wondering what she had done wrong, scared to leave a false impression behind. Jasper pointed his hand towards the chair in front of him, “please”, he rose from his seat, walking round the desk, small of his back pressed against the table. “I missed your love for the small details, it sounded like you were almost bored with the topic of the essay”, he chuckled, arms crossed in front of his chest, “are you alright (y/n)? Did something distract you?”.

Unconsciously she pressed her thighs together, visibly gulping, trying to keep herself from letting the “you did” slip from her lips. He had to bite down his smirk, eyes wandering up and down her frame, her breath hitched in her chest, creeping closer to the man she admired, the man that would haunt her in her dreams, the man she’d touch herself to.

Jasper placed his hand on her jaw, ignoring the small voice that told him to stop, to not cross the invisible line between them, but he had torn down that wall with the first moment he had panted her name, hands wrapped around himself. “Such a good girl, aren’t you, darlin’?”, her pupils widened, heart rapidly pounding, biting down her small moan, eyes hooked on his. “Bet you’d do anything I’d ask you for”, the professor grasped her wrists, pulling her against his chest, driven by his desire for (y/n).

She felt like she was stuck in one of her daydreams, a scenario she had imagined numerous times before, completely focused on the man she’d call her professor. “Be a good girl for me, wrap your pretty lips around me”, the words made her freeze, wondering if he had truly just told her to drop to her knees, mouth wrapped around his length. 

Jasper raised his eyebrows, thrown off by her frozen frame, just for a slight moment he wondered, if he had gone too far, maybe he had misinterpreted her emotions, maybe she was simply a kindhearted person, nothing bad in mind.

Just as Jasper tried to come up with any words to say, (y/n) cleared her throat, kneeling down in front of him, eyes not leaving his. She palmed his length through his tight trousers, wondering if his member was just as impressive as she would imagine it to be. A growl rumbled through the professor, weaving his hands through her (y/h/c) hair, tugging on her roots, all while she unzipped his trousers with trembling hands, anticipation took over her body, urged her on.

His length kept on throbbing for her, leaking a bit of precum, drops she scooped up with her thumb, tongue tasting the salty substance, already high on his taste. “God, you’re perfect”, he panted, eyes rolling back as (y/n) wrapped her lips around his tip, tongue exploring his velvety skin. Arousal soaked through her panties, the sounds that spilled from his lips were music to her ears, desperate to hear them as he’d wreck her, splitting her in half with his length.

“Didn’t tell you to touch yourself, did I?”, he murmured, eyes focused on her frame, clicking his tongue. (Y/n) shamefully pried her hand away from her pulsing clit, groaning in protest, “please”, she pathetically mumbled, pumping him, fingers dancing up and down his shaft. His throaty chuckle echoed through the office, “onto my desk”, he didn’t leave any room to argue, loosening his tie as (y/n) crawled onto the desk. He didn’t waste any time, unzipping her jeans, ripping them down her legs, panties following the fabric down onto the floor.

“Such a pretty pussy”, the tip of Jasper's tongue brushed through her slit, lips pressing a few kisses to her folds, thumb teasing her already enlarged clit. “Oh god” (y/n)s head fell back, she had her palms pressed against the tabletop, legs hanging off the desk, spread for him and his skilled tongue. “Bet you’re so tight”, he kept on rambling, praising his student, aching for (y/n).

Jasper brought the tip of his length up to her wetness, coating himself with her arousal. He enclosed one hand around her throat, parting her walls with his girth, sinking into her heat. Both panted each other’s names, eyes hooked on each other, skin slapping with every thrust of his. Tears welled up in her eyes, arousal crashed upon her with every pound of gim, he tightened his grip on her throat, though careful not to hurt her, only to leave a few marks, marking her as his.

“You’re so big”, (y/n) whimpered, she had her legs wrapped around his waist, trying to pull him even closer, own thumb rubbing her clit, stumbling towards the edge, she’d drown in her orgasm any moment now. Months of staring at each other, months of sexual frustration between them seemed to crash upon them, urging them on, binding them closer together with every passing second. “Are you that needy? Don’t you care about them hearing you scream my name?”, he chuckled as another loud moan rumbled through her, desperately calling out his name.

She shook her head no, trying to calm herself down, but as his tip nudged her sweet spot she couldn’t stop her body from giving into her orgasm, high on the heavenly feeling. The clenching of her walls pushed him right into the inferno of emotions, panting her name, capturing her lips with his, toning down the volume of their groans.

No words were shared between them as they got pulled back into reality, foreheads pressed against each other, hands interlaced, lips swollen. “You’re mine now”, Jasper ran his thumb along her lower lip, he wouldn’t let her go, oh no.

[janekfan]

Hostile

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30583040

Jon always needed a strong hand.

Ever since he was small and wandering off without his grandmother’s permission only to be escorted back by disgruntled police.

Elias just wanted him to be the best Archivist he could be.

It didn’t stop the sting. Just reinforced how much he had to learn and how awful he was at this job. He was just being...sensitive, right? The others were fine. They didn’t seem to have any issues, certainly not like him. Meanwhile, it seemed no matter what Jon did, Elias browbeat him. Always gently, always politely, until Jon understood how he’d gone wrong and left in a state of distressing confusion. His employer made it so clear that Jon often felt foolish coming away from his office. If he’d just been smarter he would have figured it out on his own without needing his supervisor to explain it to him in terms he could understand.

He passed Tim and Elias chatting amiably in the hall, burying his nose in the stack of papers he was carrying to make himself as small as possible before shuffling past them. They didn’t seem to notice or if they did, made no move to acknowledge him and the last thing he heard when he rounded the corner was Elias chuckling at one of Tim’s bad jokes, the same one he used to tell Jon at least once a month up in Research. It was inane. Nothing to well, to write home about. Certainly nothing that should have piqued Elias’ interest.

Though, Jon supposed, he didn’t know anything about either of them did he?

“Martin.” Cultured, the smooth voice drifted through the office door, worming its way into Jon’s ear and straight into his already hammering heart. He was ashamed that he couldn’t stop himself from creeping to the door and listening closer. “This is fine work. How long have you been working here?”

“Oh! Uh! Um!” Jon rolled his eyes at the stammering, pushing down a spike of what was definitely not jealousy. Elias laughed, light and easy.

“No need to be so anxious. You’ve been an asset to this department. A good fit.”

“Ah! Th’thank you, Elias. Sir! I mean, I mean sir.”

The man’s amusement was so sincere. Jon must’ve been missing something when it came to himself.

“Ms. James, a word if you please.”

“Of course, sir. How can I help?” Jon pressed his back against the wall, the chill of the basement cement seeping into his button down and sending him shuddering.

“I wanted to thank you for your dedication. I realize things have been fraught, for lack of a better term, since the promotion.”

“I trust in the interview process.”

“I’m sure you do.” Jon held his breath. “And I appreciate your willingness to support this endeavor as it continues to grow. Especially where our new Archivist is concerned.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you again, Ms. James.” Heavier footsteps retreated and Sasha’s headed in his direction. Jon nearly ran from her impending approach, taking refuge again in his office with the thought that it should belong to her echoing in empty space between his ears.

“Jonathan.” He tried not to fidget under Elias’ intense scrutiny.

“Yes, Elias?”

“I received a call from the library.”

“I, I assisted with a difficult case a few months ago.”

“I can’t imagine why, but they are asking for your help again.” It was a cutting remark and Jon fought against the flooding mess of emotions. “They know you’re now our Institution’s newly minted Archivist.”

Oh.

OH. Of course! His impatience was mixing him all up and getting him up in arms before Elias finished speaking.

“Do you know what it’s regarding?”

“I can’t recall though you are making fewer mistakes over time. I do think your efforts would be better focused on your work in the archives, don’t you think? Jonathan?”

oh

“Ah, w’well. Yes. If that is what you think I should do.” He could feel his face heating up, no doubt blazing red with an embarrassing blush.

“I didn’t ask for your thoughts only for you to leave it up to me. You need to be decisive, Jonathan.”

“Yes, th’that is. Yes. I will be.”

“And?” Lord was he ever bungling this.

“I will turn down their invitation.” Elias was no longer looking at him but at his desktop screen with a bored expression.

“Don’t worry yourself. I’ll take care of it for you.”

“Th’thank you, sir.”

“No need to have you tangled up in old efforts.”

“Yes, of course.” Jon shifted from foot to foot desperately trying to keep his hands still, to be professional until Elias glanced back at him in confusion.

“You can go, Jonathan. I certainly don’t want to keep you from your duties.”

It was rare that Jon left his office since taking, stealing, the position of Archivist and the uncomfortable silence that settled over the breakroom upon his arrival was damning.

“Need something, boss?” Tim raised an eyebrow, hiding a frown behind his cup. Jon felt whatever bravery he’d scraped up in the past several hours disappear.

“I, um. I just, Elias?”

“What about him?” Sasha folded her hands, prim and polite as ever since the announcement was made.

“Well, you. You’ve known m’me a while, years really, and. And I think, does, does he--?”

“Spit it out, man.” He flinched at Tim’s bored tone. Tired of him. He shouldn’t have come here.

“He, the way he speaks with me?” Lord, this sounds ridiculous. He was ridiculous, just a sensitive mess. He always did this, turned molehills into mountains. Read into situations and only came out the other side wrong.

“Elias isn’t like that, weird maybe.” Tim sounded so sure, flippant and nonchalant. “He’s been nothing but supportive since our transfer. You’re misinterpreting him or something. You do that.” Jon’s stomach dropped, tears welling up in his eyes as everything he thought about himself was confirmed.

“No, it. It feels like more than that. It. Conversion with him doesn’t. It doesn’t feel right.”

“What, Jon? He’s being mean? Rough having a couple of new responsibilities?” Tim scoffed. “You got the job over someone more qualified, over someone who works harder than anyone--”

“Tim--” He held up his hand.

“Sash, he needs to hear this. Someone needs to tell him the truth.”

“The, the truth?”

Yeah, Jon. The truth. She deserves so much better than this and now her choices are to settle or flat out leave and it’s your fault. All because you couldn’t resist the urge to interview behind her back!”

“That’s not what happened!” Even Jon could hear his whinging, voice high and desperate for one of them to believe him.

“Not from where we’re standing, mate.” Tim crossed his arms and sat back in his chair and when Jon looked to Sasha she merely shrugged. Martin just looked helpless, staring into his tea and avoiding eye contact all together.

“I, I. That’s not.” Repeating himself wouldn’t do anything to save him and he fought against the tears gathering on his lashes. “I’m s’sorry.”

“Anything else?”

No. There was nothing else.

Jon kept to himself, kept his head down, arriving before the rest of them and leaving long after they did. He didn’t want to see them. He’d made a right fool of himself enough for now, unsure if his fragile self esteem could withstand another blow. Really, he hadn’t meant for any of this to happen and there was no way to explain how Elias had maneuvered him so skillfully into this position. Was he trying to drive a wedge between them? Knowing Jon would invite his two closest friends to accompany him? A knock on the door made him jump, reminding him for a moment of a very different and more sinister one from his childhood.

“Jon?” Martin, no doubt with another overture of friendship he was loath to accept. It was easier to remain alone rather than face the hurt of another rejection so soon.

“What do you need?” Caught off guard by his sore throat, he coughed roughly into his elbow, accepting the tea to soothe it with a nod of thanks.

“That doesn’t sound good.” It wasn’t. Now that he wasn’t burying himself shoulders deep in work and self flagellation he was aware of aching muscles and oppressive fatigue, a throbbing at the base of his skull that made him stomach sick.

“It’s nothing. I neglected to drink any water today.” It was true, he realized and Martin didn’t look convinced but Jon didn’t want to go into how miserable he’d been feeling lately. Tired and wrung out trying to avoid them all and figure this out and not have a melt down all at the same time.

“You should take better care of yourself.” Gentle and kind and Jon bristled with it, flustered with the concern.

“I’ll take that under advisement.” He turned away, staring at the messy surface of his blotter to avoid anymore interaction. “I have work to do.” Martin shifted, an expression Jon couldn’t parse on his face when he glanced up at the silence. “So…?”

“Oh! Yes, I’ll be going then.” Another awkward beat passed between the two of them.

“Thank you, Martin.”

Despite feeling particularly woozy it had been a good day.

Elias nodded to him when they passed each other on the way to lunch.

He pointed out a particularly competent piece of research.

Praised how well he was handling the job lately.

It was a shame it was at the cost of his sanity. Jon was falling apart at his poorly sewn seams, every moment another snapped suture and he was pinning himself back together with clothes pegs in a windstorm. Even he knew this wasn’t sustainable. He was going to burn out like a match overextending himself like this. But avoiding his assistants meant he wasn’t able to ask them for help. He’d made his bed. He just wished he could lay in it.

Maybe Elias would approve of Jon taking the rest of the day. He’d stayed late all week. Caught up with work and even plowed ahead a little bit. So when Jon caught him in the hall he tentatively asked.

"Y'you see, I. I've been a bit under the weather and I thought since I'm ahead--"

“Jonathan,” the disappointment in the way he said his name struck Jon like a bolt of lightning and he couldn’t stop the way his face fell. “You’ve barely begun.” Oh lord, he’d read this wrong. So very wrong. “Do you truly think it’s appropriate to ask for time off so early in your tenure?”

"No, of course not. I just meant, I just thought--"

"I find that difficult to believe.” He didn’t bother hiding his contempt. “If there's nothing else?" Jon shook his head, not trusting himself to speak lest he burst into hysterics right here. Elias left him where he stood and Jon took a few moments to compose himself before turning back the way he came only to nearly run into Martin.

"I didn't mean to listen!" He held up his hands in supplication or surrender. "I swear I didn't, Jon."

"S'fine." There wasn't enough left of him to care and when he made to step around the other man found himself stopped by a careful touch at his bicep.

“Wait, um. Please. Does he, does he always speak to you that way?” Jon eyed Martin warily. He was the only one of his assistants he didn’t really know. Why would he care?

“Only when I’ve made a mistake.” When I deserve it. When I’ve failed to figure out what he wants from me and done something wrong.

“It didn’t seem very professional.” Shame ran red-hot through his veins--what did he know?

“I assure you, I was. I was out of line.” Jon didn’t want to be here having this conversation with Martin of all people. He wanted to retreat to the relative safety of his office where he could sit in the dark and continue underperforming at his job.

“Jon, you’re not well.” Martin sounded upset with him and somehow it hurt worse than it did with Elias. At least Elias knew him. Martin by all accounts was a stranger. “You should be at home.”

“No, no, no, you don’t understand.” Jon tore his trembling hands through already bedraggled and greasy hair. He was disgusting. Unprofessional. Sweating through his clothes and unable to focus long enough to make it through even one statement.

"What don't I understand?" Jon's expression turned hard.

"Forgive me if I don't wish to count the ways in which I've failed at my job for you."

"Jon I--"

"Leave it, Martin." And he stalked off in none to straight a line, leaving Martin to gawk at his back.

Jon collapsed against his desk, the old pine creaking under even his small weight, before clawing his way across it to the chair and barely grabbing the bin in time to be sick. With nothing to lose he laid over it, stomach convulsing painfully as he fought to win back tentative control and only putting it back when his own panting became too loud in his head. Jon allowed himself a cry, forehead pillowed on folded arms where he slumped, muffling the pathetic sounds that slipped past him with his teeth; biting his wrist where his cuff would keep the mark hidden.

Tim's unceremonious arrival surprised him and Jon yelped, reflexively running a sleeve over his face to erase the evidence even though he knew it wouldn’t make much difference.

"Martin told us."

"Tol'tol'you what?" Real fear rooted him where he sat, raising the hairs on his arms and sending a thrill up his spine. What did they know? What had he said? Did he tell them about Elias reprimanding him? Proof of his incompetence? Were they here to yell at him again?

"How Elias has been treating you."

"Jon. You do realize it's him being unprofessional."

“You can’t let him treat you that way.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“We would have helped you.”

Like a volley of canon fire each fast phrase pounded against his crumbling defenses and left him reeling with contradicting information.

“You should have said something earlier.” He tried. He just hadn’t tried hard enough and he didn’t know what made the words tumble out of his mouth now but he couldn’t stop himself from blurting:

“I tried!” And he'd known better than to try again and risk another telling off. He was shaking and sick. He didn’t want to be here anymore, wanted to go home. “But I d’did this to myself, didn’t I? That's why you l'let me hear the t't'ruth.”

“No, I was. No, Jon--” He plowed on, overwrought and interrupting Tim, words spilling out of him too fast to be taken back.

“I thought we. W’we were friends. I thought I could come to you when th’things aren’t g’good. Like before, like in research.” Jon scrubbed at his face. “But you just. You hate me. And I know it's my fault. I know I'm not, not fit for this position and I know it's ungrateful of me but I don't want to be here. I’m so tired. I don’t. I don’t feel well. And I’m not allowed to leave.”

“What do you mean?” Tim was a hell of a lot closer than he had been, kneeling on the floor and holding Jon's hands to keep him from scratching himself to ribbons.

“I’ve been telling you.” It came out as a pitiful sob, squeaking past a throat tight from holding back the sea.

“Okay, okay. Just tell us again.” Jon closed aching eyes, hot tears falling over hot cheeks, breath panting and strained in his twisted up chest all tied up and tangled with twine.

“I can’t s’skive off. Elias said.” Like a touchstone a pair of soft hands guided him back in the chair.

“He’s burning up.”

“Doesn’matter.”

“Of course it matters, Jon.” Sasha’s voice came from far away, through a tunnel, wending its way to his stopped up ears through syrup. His next thought slipped away, dissolving in the heat swallowing him up from top to toes. Breathing became harder, impossible, lungs full of caking cement smothering choking snuffing him out like a candle flame.

“Jon?”

“Jon!”

Devoured and spit out again, again again

writhing,

drifting on an outgoing tide of misery and affliction,

waves of agony break over him and suck him under and roll him along the mud bottom of a polluted river and every gasp he snatches at the surface is less and less and less

Clicking, beeping, the chirping of a million birds in a thousand trees and each one wants his attention tick tick ticking away like the blood red hand of a watch and awareness trickles in like hot black tar against the surface of his eyelids.

Fluorescent lights carve their way in between heavy lashes and Jon recognizes the broken sound of denial as his own. A noise, a voice? in the room and the blinding glow receded enough to think about figuring out where he was. He coughed, mouth a desert, and welcomed a spoonful of ice chips blissful and cool against the heat seeping through his veins, his arteries, his skin.

“Jon?” He recognized the sound, the person, the thumb tracing circles over the back of his hand. “Hey, there he is. Welcome back, bud.”

“T’Tim…waz…?” Fairy floss crowded out any thoughts and Jon spent the next seconds trying to come up with more words and failing.

“Do you remember what happened?” Martin took up space next, then Sasha, crowded around him and no, he didn’t. Was barely able to catalogue his body; the deep seated ache, a prickly itch in the corner of his elbow.

“Hos’ital?” Tim nodded, offering up another spoonful and Jon let them melt over his tongue. Lord, he was tired, prying open eyes he didn’t remember closing.

“S’okay, buddy.” He was being so kind. Like he used to be in Research and the last thing he felt before it all faded away were twin sweeps of familiar fingers wiping away tears.

All three assistants were still there the next time he woke though Jon had no idea of how much time had passed. He wasn’t as confused, actually aware of his surroundings and he scratched absentmindedly at the IV taped to his skin. The thin gown didn’t have sleeves long enough to hide the lines left behind by his nails. He didn’t remember clawing himself up like that.

“How do you feel?” Martin looked relieved, tired.

“Uh. Fine, fine.” He plucked at the stiff blanket, avoiding their eyes. “What. I’m s’sorry. I can’t seem to--what happened?”

“You’ve been sick, Jon.” Tim plunked himself down in a terrible plastic chair. “Bad stomach flu, dehydration. You’ve been here for days.” There was a hard edge to his voice and Jon suppressed a flinch.

“S’sorry.” Sasha sat down at his other side, taking up a hand, and Martin offered him a smile.

“Jon, please don’t be.” She looked tired too, drawn and pale. “Tim and I are the ones apologizing.” Jon shook his head, staring at his lap and withdrawing his hand to worry at his fingers.

“I shouldn’t have--”

“What?” Tim cut him off. “Asked for help?” Jon nodded, earnest, glad they were all on the same page.

“Yes! You’re understandably angry with me. I didn’t respect that.”

“Can you hear how ridiculous you sound?” Tim wasn’t shouting but it was a close thing. “We froze you out! Left you alone! Accused you of lying about how Elias was treating you--Jon. Being upset about a stupid promotion doesn’t warrant how we treated you. You know that, right?”

“I don’t. I don’t know?” Sasha hushed Tim before he could start up again.

“It doesn’t. And when you became ill we blamed you for that too, for not telling us after we gave you no reason to trust that we would help and it wasn’t right.” Gently, she embraced him and he couldn’t stop himself from collapsing into her and while she wasn’t always one for physical displays of affection, she pressed him closer. “We’re going to do better.”

“We’re in this together, boss, like we should have been from the beginning. From this minute on.” Tim clasped him on the shoulder. “Okay?” Jon, exhausted and confused and hopeful, looked up at Martin when he nodded too.

“Okay.”

[writingbeary]

Kingdom - Reborn (pt.1)

Minyoung’s Outfit

Note:

Texts placed inside brackets are Kingdom’s show subtitles

Italicized texts are in English

Texts that are block quoted are interview cuts

────────── ♔ ──────────

ATEEZ were sat around the table for a meeting and after reading through the comments from the experts they renewed their resolve to do well for the rest of the competition. They took first place for experts’ and group evaluation for Round 1 and so they were given the priviledge of choosing who they will exchange and reinterpret songs with for the theme Reborn, of which they chose iKON.

“They have many hip songs and the public knows their songs well.” Wooyoung answered when asked why they chose iKON among all the other groups

“I also think they have a lot of songs that can show our energy well.” Yunho added on to Wooyoung’s answer

(SF9’s stage)

“I wonder what song SF9-sunbaenim chose among THE BOYZ discography.” Minyoung wondered out loud

“What was it? You know the song you used to sing a lot?” Hongjoong asked looking at her

“Which one? I sang a lot of songs..” Minyoung tilted her head

“That one that goes like..” Hongjoong hummed the song as he remembers it

“Ah! That’s the chorus of <D.D.D>. But if SF9-sunbaenim chooses that song, is it..” Minyoung trailed off realizing that her next words could be misinterpreted, covering her mouth.

“Won’t they go for <Reveal>? I think that’s also a famous song?” Yeosang suggested

“Personally I think <Ego> or <Breaking Dawn> is closer to the style of SF9. Ah but <Breaking Dawn> is from a Japanese album so I guess not.” Minyoung confessed as she thought of all the possible songs

“But the theme this round is to reinterpret it into their style so it doesn’t really matter which song they choose if they could change into their teams color.” Seonghwa piped in making the others nod. “That’s true.”

As soon as SF9 started their performance, Minyoung was already intrigued as the group is already in focus. “Are they going to fight? Omo.” She said as she held unto Jongho’s arm who was seated to her right with Yeosang to her left.

Minyoung let out a surprised gasp when Dawon fired a shot and an excited squeal when Rowoon was shown on the screen as he sang the opening of <The Stealer> “It’s Rowoon-sunbaenim!” Jongho who is seating beside her surprised patting her thigh. “Young-ah try not to get too excited.” to which Minyoung nodded mumbling an apology as she placed a hand over her mouth

“Omo!” Minyoung flinched a bit as Rowoon broke the glass before looking at Hongjoong “Oppa, you need to do it cooly too. I believe in you.” The latter just chuckling returning his focus on the performance. It hasn’t been long before they hear another surprised gasp from the girl when Jaeyoon sang his part, showing off his toned body. “Omo! His body..” Seonghwa immediately looking over to Minyoung and calling out to Yeosang “Yeosang-ah, quick cover Minyoung’s eyes.” The latter laughing, shaking his head.  Minyoung suddenly remembering that their reactions are getting filmed right now blushed lowering her head shyly which only furthered Seonghwa’s concern. The rest of the members laughed at the two, already used to the scenario.

“Oh this is really good.” Minyoung nodded her head along the music as the group dance started for the first chorus.

“What is good? Jaeyoon-sunbaenim’s body?” Wooyoung teased her as she pressed her lips in a thin line to stop herself from firing back a remark to avoid a situation where she’ll only dig herself into a hole

Hongjoong and Minyoung clapped excitedly when Zuho’s part came as it was totally like an action scene in a movie. Minyoung immediately closed her mouth that dropped when the part started. “This is so cool. His voice also sounds so cool. It just fits.”

“Kang Chanhee! Oh no. Omo. Don’t tell me..” Minyoung felt herself be thrown into a rollercoaster of emotions in the short amount of time during Chani’s part up to when he got held at gun point until Inseong shot the guy. “Omo! Inseong-oppa, you saved our Chanhee.” Yeosang although engrossed in the performance, couldn’t help but be amused at Minyoung’s reactions.

As the dance break came, Minyoung smiled as she cheered on her friend then had her jaw drop when Taeyang shot at the crane holding the briefcase. “This is totally a movie. SF9-sunbaenim really showed their acting skills as well.”

“Oh!” Jongho pointed at the screen with Minyoung nodding repeatedly “They’re burning the person. Omo.”

“All of them really have long legs. It’s amazing.” Yunho commented as the group danced for the last chorus

“Ah. Was it the crown in the safe?” San asked as the camera focused on the crown when the performance ended

“I think so.” Hongjoong nodded

“They’re all so good-looking.” San commented shaking his head a bit chuckling

“Okay. Everyone this is how Minyoung falls-in-love. You saw the process in the whole 4 minute performance.” Wooyoung laughed as the girl glared at him

“She unconsciously let out her fangirl mode from the first stage.” San said in between his laugh with Minyoung covering her face knowing the two would never let her live this moment down.

“I was seating next to her but it feels like she’s filming a whole other video. A reaction video or something.” Yeosang chuckled patting the girl’s back when she looked at him with a betrayed expression as she mumbled “Of all the people, I thought I could trust you Yeosang-oppa.”

 (THE BOYZ’s stage)

“Let’s go!” Wooyoung shouted as the familiar sound for Kingdom played for THE BOYZ. Hongjoong clapped anticipating another picturesque performance from the team.

“Judging by the stage, I don’t think they’ll be performing the brighter songs of SF9.” Yunho noted as he leaned in to focus on the performance.

“What is this? They used water last round, now they’re opening with fire. Will they use Wind or Earth next?” Minyoung wondered as the stage opens with the screen playing a scene.

“It’s a cage! Cage.” Hongjoong said making Minyoung gasp as she pointed at the screen “There’s someone inside!”

“Juyeon-sunbaenim!” Minyoung exclaimed as he danced inside the cage. “He knows a lot of dances.” Yunho also nodding in agreement already absorbed even when they haven’t even started the song.

“Omo! It’s <O Sole Mio>! Is that why they’re doing Tango?” Minyoung lightly hit Jongho’s arm in her excitement. “Young-ah.” Jongho chuckled as the girl covered her mouth to contain herself.

“Oooh. There it is. Knife-like dance. I feel like it won’t be called a THE BOYZ stage if there weren’t knife-like choreography. I really want to try that at least once.” Minyoung mumbled her mouth open in awe of how the whole group could move as one.

Hongjoong nodded “The perfect choreography. The best.” shaking his head a bit. San smiled “They’re great.”

“It’s Sunwoo!” Minyoung pointed at the screen almost pushing her chair back if not for Yeosang who held it in place.

“I swear Minyoung cheers the best when she’s watching someone else.” San laughed a bit before returning his attention to the performance

“How could I cheer for you if we’re on the same stage? I also cheer like this whenever you have your special stages.” Minyoung pouted

When the scene with Hyunjae on top of the platform came, Minyoung unconciously gaped at the scene “Are they doing it on the second floor? That unnie is so brave.”

“It’s on fire. It’s on fire. It’s on fire.” Minyoung sat up straight pointing at the screen when Sangyeon’s part came with the torch.

“So passionate.” Yunho commented when the room with the mirror was used for the added effect of dancers

“Just when I thought they were going to end, they have another explosive section coming up. Wah.” Minyoung laughed in admiration as Juyeon danced and the female dancer rode the rope up the cage. “Is that the same unnie? She’s really brave.”

“What are you saying? You also do stunts like that for our choreography.” Jongho laughed poking Minyoung’s side

“That’s different. I just jump while she hangs on by a rope or with only one leg!” Minyoung defended herself, poking Jongho back. “It’s scary.”

“Eric! Let’s get it.” Minyoung cheered as Eric came unto the screen, smiling brightly doing a 180 on her facial expression.

“Wow! Perfect choreography!” Wooyoung exclaimed as the group danced together again for the last chorus.

“Omo. Is that New-sunbaenim doing the high notes in the back?” Minyoung squinted at the screen trying to see who it was.

“They shot an …. at the sun!” Minyoung gasped standing up from her seat but trailing off as she forgot the word for it.

“An arrow?” Hongjoong chuckled but nodded confirming her thoughts.

“They tore the stage.” San clapped as the performance ended, the others following and praised the performance particularly their knife-like dance.

“I always get this feeling when I watch THE BOYZ stages from Road to Kingdom up to now. They always have this story, you know, like they’re showing us per chapter.” Seonghwa said looking at the members.

“That’s true. They have a clear concept every stage.” Yeosang nodded

“They’re just professionals at this. Just when you thought they’d run out of ideas since they already did a lot on Road to Kingdom, but here they are performing with new concepts. I never imagined <O Sole Mio> to be changed like this.” Minyoung said as she motioned to the monitor.

Jongho nodded adding in “They changed it up but also kept the latin feel? I got that thought when watching their performance.”

(iKON’s stage)

“I’m excited. I’m really looking forward to this.” Minyoung smiled brightly as she sat up in attention. All the members of ATEEZ were looking forward to this stage the most, aside from their own. The very people who inspired them to be an idol were not only performing their song but reinterpreting it to their group’s style.

“Everyone. I saw iKON-sunbaenim going to the bathroom earlier and their outfits were hip hop.” Seonghwa shared with the group with Wooyoung nodding “Yeah. It was totally hiphop.”

“Maybe they chose <THANXX>?” San suggested as the group tried to guess which song iKON would perform

“No. It looked like a blue concept.” Yeosang shook his head remembering that most of their outfits had something blue to it

“That’s right. A blue concept.” Jongho nodded, throwing <THANXX> out the list

“What songs do we have that would go well with the color blue? <Wave>?” Minyoung piped in “I mean that song already screams water and sea.”

“<Answer> too. Even our album cover then was blue.” Yunho suggested.

“Or it could be something entirely unexpected because they would have reinterpreted the song differently.” Hongjoong explained as the others nodded at the thought. “That’s true too.”

When MC Changmin mentioned time and space, all of ATEEZ were excited.

“Is it really..” Yunho gasped in surprise

“<Inception>?” San exclaimed

“Really? Will they be basing it off the movie then?” Minyoung wondered out loud trying to keep herself still in her seat.

“I think it is <Inception> but how will they do it?” Hongjoong said as Wooyoung chimed in “The concept is what I’m curious about.”

“Did they change <Inception> to a hip hop feel like we thought? How?” Minyoung tilted her head looking at Hongjoong as he is more familiar with the music production.

“I also don’t know. They could have completely changed the overall feel of the song like what we did.” Hongjoong answered shrugging a bit

When the song started everyone in the room kept quiet, hyper-focused on how iKON would reinterpret their own song.

“It feels weird.” San exclaimed already anticipating a huge change from what they’re used to.

“It’s just the first few bars but I feel like there’ll be a big twist.” Minyoung piped as she covered her lips making sure she won’t be caught by the cameras with her mouth wide open.

When Donghyuk appeared to move the stage with his hands. Minyoung and Yunho immediately copied the movements “Omo. How are they doing that? The stage is moving. That’s so cool! His voice too.”

“It’s starting. It’s starting. Whenever Junhoe-sunbaenim appears in iKON’s songs there’s always something happening.” Minyoung leaned a bit forward as she tried to focus on the performance.

As soon as the drop happened and the chorus played entirely different from the original song, Minyoung stood up pointing at the screen, excited “See? It’s almost 95% accurate that whenever he appears there’s a twist.” She sat down but tried copying the dance in her seat, nodding along to the music. “This is our song? Is this really our song?”

“Oh!” Hongjoong surprised when Bobby appeared with the camera effects as Minyoung mumbled, “What’s happening? It’s like we’re in a dream.”

“Whenever I see Bobby-sunbaenim perform, I just feel happy. It’s like he’s enjoying the stage so much that his energy just gets transferred to you.” Minyoung confessed as she bounced lightly on her seat during Bobby’s raps. All the members hummed in agreement understanding what she meant.

“It’s going up!” Yunho pointed at the screen when the road folded up

“What’s that?” Jongho gasped while Minyoung excitedly pipes in “The road is folded like that in the movie!”

When the second chorus played both Yunho and Minyoung were copying the moves in their seats dancing along. “Dorara paengi~” Minyoung sang along a bit.

“That’s my part!” Seonghwa smiled giddy that his part played and Minyoung gasped when her part also came on clapping a bit “They also did mine! Where u at~”

“Is it my part now?” Jongho asked hoping to finally hear his parts as the chorus were both changed for both the first and the second one.

The members exclaimed as an unexpected change in the song replaced the last chorus. “They completely changed it!” Wooyoung clapped in awe as they did a group dance and a booster dance for the ending.

“Yes. It has to be there.” San exclaimed as the ending focused on the top still spinning.

“They have to show us that.” Yunho nodded excitedly as Hongjoong clapped at a loss for words at how iKON reinterpreted that song

“Does this mean we just saw a dream?” Minyoung gasp in realization

“That was really cool.” ATEEZ collectively agreed as the performance ended.

“Don’t you feel a bit weird?” Yunho asked the others laughing a bit

“It feels so strange. What is this?” Jongho nodded knowing what Yunho meant

“When I heard the verse, I thought it had a similar feel to the original song but the chorus was completely..” Wooyoung trailed off as he looked for a word to describe the feeling

Hongjoong piped in making the sound in the song “Yeah. It suddenly changed.”

“It felt like time stopped in that moment.” Wooyoung nodded explaining his thoughts

“This thought came to my mind. I want to show them our performance quickly.” San confessed making the others smile and nod.

“I want to know what they think of our interpretation.” Yeosang chimed in as Minyoung gasped placing a hand on her chest as she felt her heart rate go up“Omo. That’s right. We’re performing next! What do I do? I’m suddenly feeling nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous! We just have to show them what we prepared. I don’t think we have anything we would be ashamed about.” San grinned already raring to go to the stage. This statement pumped up the energy within the group as they waited for their turn to go on stage.

────────── ♔ ──────────

ATEEZ Minyoung Masterlist

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. Any portrayal of real people is a combination based on what we could see on cameras and imagination of the author. This is purely fan fiction written for entertainment. Thank you for understanding.

━━━━━━ʕ ˵• ₒ •˵ ʔ━━━━━━

Writing Beary Corner

Another two-part episode lol Fair warning, the next one would probably be longer than this one haha! Thank you for reading!

-Mimi

19

[yourwildsimp]

Typically

This makes many references to No Regrets (an insight on Levi before he enrolled in the Scouts.) I also tried a new writing style, so please, give me feedback!

includes: Erwin, Levi

warnings: alcoholic themes, depression, PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder), mentions of suicidal thoughts/actions

length: 2,028 words

•°•°•°•

Erwin Smith was typically content in his mattress by 10:30, praying to whatever gods that may (or may not) be out there that his slumber would be blissful and refreshing. He typically knew of his subordinates' locations and their relative mental states this late into any given night. He typically had most of his paperwork signed and stacked into a neat, organized pile.

Though tonight, as trepidation rolled over him in slow, progressing waves, Erwin Smith was neither content nor situated in a well-put-together office. He did not know where the Captain was or when the elusive man would return. He did not know beforehand that multiple contracts would need the Captain's signature. Hell, Erwin did not know if Levi could even write in cursive. At the moment, he did not know a lot of things.

Erwin wasn't exactly enthusiastic about experiencing these feelings of troubling uncertainty.

The dense thud of staggering boots on the half-rotted wooden flooring impeded Erwin's vexing thoughts. Moving from his spot by the window that overlooked the training grounds, he hastily stalked towards his office door. Yet as his fingertips were mere inches from the handle, the door slammed open, catching the Commander off guard.

Erwin back-stepped as no one other than Levi himself lost his footing from kicking the door open. The door frame was the only thing that aided Levi's attempt at steadying his balance; Erwin was far too focused on darting his bewildered eyes over Levi's condition.

Was the blunt and foul-mouthed Levi Ackerman. . . Drunk?

No, that couldn't be right. The man despised everything about alcohol: the lasting effects, the heavy smell, the noxious health problems. Every time the Corps tried to get Levi to drink, he had remarked about booze being nothing more than poison marketed as a miracle tonic. But, what else could explain the unfocused eyes that were typically sharp and observant or the swaying small frame that was typically nimble and composed?

"Have you been drinking, Levi? You look terrible."

The vicious scowl Erwin received told him that the way he worded his concern was extremely misinterpreted.

"Oh, fuck you, jackass. Not everyone can look like a shining star, Smith." Levi's words were unnaturally slurred, further proving what Erwin refused to accept. "Get outta my way and let me in."

Erwin cautiously stepped to the side- as he'd rather keep this peculiar sight to himself and spare the Captain's dignity. Levi's shoulder shoved against Erwin's bicep as he stumbled into the Commander's office. A snarl remarking Erwin's height was woven into the tense atmosphere of the room.

"Where have you been?" Erwin asked as he gently shut the door, keeping an apprehensive gaze on Levi.

He simply received a distracted scoff. Erwin took a deep breath before he huffed out of his nose. He watched as Levi fumbled through various unlocked drawers in search of who-knows-what.

"Levi-"

"Where's your Devil's water, Smith?" Erwin narrowed his eyes in confusion before Levi, belligerently, elaborated. "Your liquor, dip-shit. Where have you stashed it?"

Erwin pressed his lips into a thin line before he offered a calculated answer, "I don't hide alcohol in my office." A spiteful string of obscenities left Levi's swollen lips, the drunk balling his fist tight by his sides. "Liar! You're a filthy deceiver, you know that? You're worth less than the shit in the stables! A sleaze bag from the Underground would be more helpful than you!"

Erwin paused, studying Levi like Hange would study a Titan. "Are you okay, Levi?" He knew the question was redundant the moment the words left his lips.

“Fuck!” Levi yelled, tugging on his already loose cravat. “Am I okay? What kind of bullshit question is that? Hell, my uncle used to tell me that life’s like a toilet paper roll; you’re either on a roll or taking shit from some asshole- and you know what? You’re that asshole, Smith!”

"Be careful of the open window, Levi," Erwin warned, as polished and unwavering as ever. His indifference to the slew of insults and profanities made Levi's blood boil.

Erwin only moved closer when the Captain disregarded his warning and continued to near the dangerously open casement. Erwin tuned out the vulgarities that were continuously hurled at him with an intense enmity, the gears clicking together in his head.

There was a chance Levi's destination was through the window- a chance Erwin was not willing to take.

"What are you doing? You're going to fall out," Erwin said more forcefully.

The change in the Commander's tone didn't seem to phase Levi, who was resting his forearms on the window sill. As Levi's weight shifted to his unstable upper body, Erwin could feel his heartbeat pounding in his throat, temples, fingertips- everywhere except his chest.

Levi went quiet, his drunken tantrum utterly forgotten as childlike wonder filled his eyes. In the moment of calm after the storm, Erwin couldn't fail to notice that Levi looked so much younger when he wasn't so pent up. The Captain was significantly more demonstrative when he was intoxicated; and may it be good or bad, Erwin was content with Levi seeming mortal.

"He used to hate heights, and she smoked him for it," Levi broke the moment of silence with hardly a whisper. "It was all a game to her."

Erwin's features, which were glazed over with faux insouciant, didn't match the curious gaze he studied Levi with. He stood inert, fearful of scaring Levi into a diligent silence or another aggressive episode. Erwin didn't ask for extensive details, nor did he implore Levi to move away from the window again. He simply waited, having an idea of what was plaguing his inebriated soldier's mind.

"You know, when you found me, we were heading to get a job done," Levi spoke so softly that Erwin felt the need to hold his breath to hear him properly.

The Commander took Levi's brief pause as an opening to speak, despite having nothing to say. "Is that so?"

Levi exhaled something grim; something that nearly sounded like an empty chuckle. "Yeah, Smith, it is."

Levi ignored how Erwin wearily moved closer as he adjusted himself further out of the window. The Captain relished in a twisted feeling of pride knowing that he could make his superior jump to aid him, that he could make the man twitch with such a deep sense of uneasiness- so much so that it shone in his perceptive blue eyes.

"Levi, get away from-"

"He was so nervous for the mission, despite it being so. . . " Levi swayed his hand through the night air, searching for the right word after cutting Erwin, and his concerns, off. "So pointless," is what he settled for.

"It was just a run-through," he huffed out a sigh, "check the brothel for any kids, start trouble if there were. Then, haul ass to the surface to get the brats to somewhere safer. Simple, right?"

Erwin swallowed, his gaze settling on Levi's reflection in the mirror.

"But, something always has to fuck me over," Levi spat with a clenched jaw, capturing the window sill in an iron grip. "Isn't that right?! You simply adore dancing all of your puppets around until they can't take it anymore- but you don't stop, do you?!" Levi screamed at the full moon in the sky.

Erwin sharply exhaled through his nose, Levi swaying side to side like empty ODM gear in the breeze. Levi swore and stretched his fingers out to relieve the tension in them.

"I bumped into a guy whose ego was as big as his body. The bastard was huge and wouldn't let it go." Levi hung his head, the stars bringing back memories he'd rather forget. "I think you were there when we had settled the issue and took off."

Erwin remembers like it happened yesterday. He could never forget the first time he saw Levi fly on the Wings of Revolution; it was enchanting.

Levi outstretched his arm, one foot leaving the floor as he reached to the giant moon glowing against the night sky.

"Levi, you need to stop being heedless, or you'll fall and end up dead!" Erwin finally snapped, his hand darting to grab Levi's. He missed his target, the shorter one moving unexpectedly and making Erwin snatch his pale forearm.

The wind from the chill night ruffled the forgotten paperwork on Erwin's desk, Levi's eerily hollow chuckle overlaying the white noise. Empty steel-gray finally looked into Erwin's ocean blues, heavy-lidded and worn thin.

"Don't you know I'm stupid? The hell does 'heedless' mean, blondie?" Levi wore a painful grin.

Erwin furrowed his brow in worry, loosening his grip but not letting go. "Careless," he said gently, thumbing fondly at Levi's flushed skin. "It means. . . Careless."

Levi's bottom lip trembled, and Erwin swore he saw his small body twitch with a hiccup. "Maybe that's what I want, Commander- to end up dead," Levi breathed, sending a cold surge through Erwin.

"Hey, don't say that," Erwin said quickly in a hushed tone. His free hand gently cupped Levi's shoulder.

"Why not?" Levi's voice was so small. It scared Erwin. "Every time I shut my eyes at night, all I see is their faces, hear them call my name." Erwin could feel Levi trembling.

"I know, Levi. By the walls, I know how it feels to begin to go numb. How it is to lose everything close to you, and still need to press onwards," Erwin murmured.

"Oh, sure. You see the face of every comrade that you've sent to death in your dreams. I'm sure you remember each and every soldier." The sarcastic bite in Levi's tone made Erwin unhand the man's arm.

"Excuse me. . ?" Erwin breathed, stupidly hoping he had misheard Levi.

"You don't know how it feels to be looked at like a human shit stain for simply trying to survive! You're just Mr. Fucking Perfect, right?" Levi's fruitless attempt to push Erwin away by his chest only agitated the blonde.

"Another pompous asshole that wouldn't hesitate to judge me from getting on all fours back then just to be able to eat twice a week!" Levi's (false) accusations were making Erwin increasingly angry.

"You're no different than everyone in the Capital-"

"You'd better watch your mouth, Ackerman."

Levi sucked in a short breath so quickly, it made his throat dry up; though, that might've been caused by the snarl of his surname. He didn't get another chance to speak as Erwin loomed over his frame.

"Who gave you an escape route when you had nowhere else to turn? Was it the Capital? Who was it that believed in you when everyone else wanted you to hang? The Capital, perhaps? Apologies, my memory is hazy."

Levi had seen Erwin agitated, seen him berate cadets and superiors alike with no backlash. But the man was always so poised and assured. Sure, the unsettlingly strong fire behind his crystal eyes was never smothered, but it was not once openly expressed.

Until now.

It had Levi- the nephew of Kenny the Ripper, the Captain of the 104th Cadet Corp, Humanity's Strongest Soldier- intimidated enough to shrink in on himself.

"I don't mean to scare you, Levi. I truly don't. But when you have the audacity to lump me into the crowd of discriminatory pedophiles and rapists? After everything I have done for you?" Erwin scoffed, ending his rant.

"I-I... I'm-"

"I don't want you to apologize. It's difficult to believe that you would. It's just not like you," Erwin swallowed thickly as Levi sniffled.

"Levi, I-" Erwin cut himself off, clenching his jaw.

Want you. Need you.

I think I'm in love with you. What a dream it would be to say. But he shouldn't. And he won't.

"You should sober up here while I get work done. How does that sound?" Erwin felt the urge to vomit after those words burned off his tongue.

"Thank you," Levi hardly whispered. "Thank you, Erwin."

Closing his eyes tightly, Erwin nodded, leading Levi to the couch the was sitting against the sidewall.

"Of course, Levi. I would do anything for you."

[namjooningelsewhere]

The Prince Charming!!

Pairing : Yoongi x reader

Genre: 18+

Warnings: Absolutely nothing!!!!

Summary- You are forced to attend a prestigious homecoming ball which you wanted to avoid but also which you couldn't, you didn't make in any plans on avoiding until you actually meet someone interesting and suddenly everything just seems perfect. Comfortably perfect!

The big thingies weren't quite your scene, specially when all you had to do was look like a freaking doll and stand in poise and behave and watch what you said. Naah please you were done with it.

And today happened to be exactly that kind of day. It was ball at the most affluent family of the city, The Mins. Seems like the so called prince charming had returned to his kingdom after a sabbatical and to celebrate the return his parents had hosted a ball, actually quite grand one at that.

You never wanted to go home because you knew your mother would be waiting with her battalion of stylists, beauticians to make you look like a diva, which obviously you were not. You had features that were standing out but you thought you needed to shine from within to shine on the outside.

You crept inside your own house like a thief tiptoeing to avoid any noise that would attract the attention of your mother. "Rebeca where you think you are going?" Your mothers voice boomed through the corridor. She was your mother alright.

"Give me one good reason why you haven't tried the dresses I've sent to your room? One good reason why you haven't pushed it for the fittings yet?" Umm maybe i came just now, Maybe i was busy trying to prepare for a interview that can get me something real?" You scoffed.

"Very funny, now go to your room and try the dresses and show it to me?" She said. I walked slowly to my room displaying ample amount of disinterest. "Faster now woman, The balls in the evening not tomorrow" you heard your voice once again. How does she know everything? You still couldn't uncover this mystery, You checked if hallways had cameras but nope nothing nada.

You try a lot of dresses but a red one catches your eyes. You try the red one it fit you beautifully amplifying every curve at your body and with a thigh high slits making it look picture perfect. Which also made you look perfect for the gram;).

You finished with a little bit of makeup and a shimmery nude gloss which made your lips look even prettier. You arrived at the ball with your parents and it looked it was more of a met gala type event.

As you walked to the hall you could see girls in all kinds of designers making it a high society designer store, looks like the so called prince charming had a lot of options to choose from.

You were greeted by a cheerful greeting and you grinned by the ear, you knew who it was. Hobi your bestfriend waving right back to him. You gave him a friendly hug, and he gasped for a second "Look at you gorgeous, looking enchanting!! He chimed.

Oh boy didn't have much of a choice you see! You exclaimed. The event turned out to be extremely boring with occasional dances here and there. All everyone was doing was to try finding the guy in question.

You moved to the hallway to use the powder room all you could hear was the gossips about the prince charming, "Where is he ?" I've heard he's hot!! Imagine how will he be?" You were absolutely disinterested in the prince charming and the only reason you had your ass in the room was your mother. That woman was capable of throwing you out of the window if you didn't do what she said. She was someone you would never mess with.

You scanned the room for Hobi, this guy was nowhere to be seen. And somehow you exactly knew where he would be at this moment. You fumbled for the phone but let him just be, At least he was having fun.

The ball was going in full swing yet there was no sign of the prince charming, wishing that man would appear somewhere and this ball would end, so you looked at the exit so that you could have a breath fresh air, you found a exit to a open space down towards the parking.

You moved ahead and went near the garden, and just spread your hands the air felt cold and specially it felt even cold with the strapless dress you had on. "Bored already?" You jumped at the voice behind you.

You turned behind to see a man, a magnificent man. Dark hair on his forehead dressed sharp a tux and those rings in the fingers was the highlight and his sly smile made me loose my breath for a second. Who was this you thought to yourself.

"A lot actually, but I don't seem to have a choice" You sighed. "And why would that be?" He asked. "You friends with the Mins?" You asked in a cautious tone. No he said. "Just that I find such events exhausting not to forget my mother bought me here all dolled up because she thinks I might find a good match and that's downright stupid. You exclaimed.

You could clearly say he was amused. He chuckled and that made you zone out to a parallel universe. "Oh I forgot I didn't get your name?" I didn't give it out yet you chuckled. Rebecca you replied stretching your hand in forward to a handshake.

"Lovely name" he said. Before you could say anything out heard footsteps approaching and next thing you knew he pulled you by the hand and started running towards what looked like a lake house.

I'm sorry people would have misinterpreted and this is a small group of the people here you know, they talk he explained awkwardness quite evident in his voice. "I can understand all these people do is talk. And I'm the last one to be involved. I have a quite fierce of a mother who will not tolerate any such nonsense of this sort" he laughed at my exasperated comment.

"Did someone tell you are dramatic?" He chuckled. "Yeah but then i told them not to mention it again" you laughed. "What are you doing here? Friend of the prince charming?" You asked curiosity taking over you.

"Prince charming?" He asked amused. " Yeah since he has a gazillion girls here who are here for him, must be a charmer I guess you say. He looks like he wanted to have a laughing fit, but didn't do so. "What if he was a charmer? I mean the guy has money, power, mostly looks and what if hes sexy too? Don't you find it appealing?"

"That's not what's all appealing, I mean i cant just doll up and compete for someone who i don't even know and besides my kind of love is more of a personality not the wallet or the pants or the looks. You argued.

"I'm starving!!" he says with a cute expression. Why don't you find something to eat inside I'm sure they have a plethora of options."I said "Nope food inside feels boring, Lets go out." You had your jaw open to the ground at his offer, How were you even supposed to leave this god damn place without your mother knowing.

You planned a hundred scenarios but nothing concrete came to your mind but some voice in your head asked you to throw caution to the wind and go with the tux guy. "Okay you said but there is one thing you have to do for me," You look at him innocently hoping he would agree. "Anything" He replied.

"Can you get me a pair of sneakers? I am going to have my feet cut off if i stay in these heels for one more min." He burst out laughing at your request, "This is the most unique thing someone has ever asked me to do", He chuckled.

He ushered you to the parking lot and opened a car boot to hand you over a pair of white sneakers and you unknowingly threw your heels in his boot. ?He closed it and pulled you towards his bike, You had your eyes out of your head for a minute. "Care for an adventure?" He smirked.

"Haven't you been noticing I'm wearing a gown all this time? You asked amused at this persons innocence. "Oh come on sneaker girl i know you can manage and for all you know this might be the most adventurous night of your life? Be a sport!"

You still could not believe you were doing this as you wore the helmet but it seemed thrilling and you thanked the designers to have kept the slit big enough to manage. The ride was filled with an adventure you have never tried before and most of it for the part that he was a complete stranger and still you felt the urge to trust him like it was inbuilt.

You decided to eat kimchi fried rice avoiding his amused looks for choosing something simple when you could have gone more for a gown and tux place but for what it was worth it turned out to be one of the best meals you and he had in a while. The time was passing by in mere fractions as you planned your last stop on a hilltop, starlit and quite a scenic view of the city.

The wind was blowing in your face calming all the excitement of the night it had really been an interesting one for sure. "did you dance at the ball?" He asked . "No why? You know its a shame that you are wearing such a beautiful dress meant to be to a ball but you didn't dance. I smiled at his thoughts believing that coming to this ball was a decision that was totally worth it. Even worth of getting myself killed by mother the moment i step inside the house. But it seemed worth it.

"Who said we cant change it?" he said. You were shocked when he played the song that was the most perfect fit for the night and pulled me in for a dance. You swayed in his arms like you belonged there and he danced as if you were some queen he was having a dance with. You moved as if it was just meant to be and in that moment strangely everything seemed perfect.

The ride back was just you and him discussing your and his interest and just normal things, just as normally as a night could have ended except he didn't let you go till you handed him your number. "Thanks for saving me from the ball and i had an amazing time really" you said unsure of his reaction.

"Likewise" He replied but with a peck on your cheek. He left you at the door bidding a goodbye. As you stood there in two minds, relishing your encounter of the stranger whose name you had forgotten to ask and second what was the lioness inside the house going to do with you?"

You Froze on your spot when you received a text message:

Sneaker girl, FYI I'm not a prince charming!!!

Something inside you told you this wasn't the last time you were meeting this prince charming.

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 1, chapter 8

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Content warnings: death mention, possible minor body horror with regards to injury

It had been a fortnight since Andariel. Morgan was adjusting to his new reality, one where speaking much louder than a whisper for more than a few sentences made it feel like he'd been screaming his throat raw. Where pain was out of proportion to the damage that caused it. Where his left arm was all but useless. Although he felt well enough to get up and move around, the wound on his arm showed no signs of closing. An inky colouration had spread out from the puncture, extending up above his elbow and down to his wrist. It turned his stomach to look at it. Any remaining strength in the limb was negated by the pain that shot through it at the slightest jostle or pull. Akara's expertise in the healing arts was not sufficient to handle a wound like this, caused by a demon queen and determined to linger. She had offered her sympathies and a supply of bandages, which at least allowed him to bind the damned thing so he didn't have to see it. His own limited knowledge of medicine did not extend to this manner of injury either, so simply keeping it covered and clean seemed like the best option available.

Morgan had been spending most of his time and energy on meditation and geomancy. Physical pursuits were not very attractive at the moment, so instead he focused on improving his magic. He would need it more than ever now, given the state of his arm. Eventually he would return to the graveyard he'd marked, to check on the restless spirits there, but he wasn't yet well enough for that journey.

The ground around the encampment was largely untended, but the soil was good. Morgan had been using it to flex his magical abilities cautiously, not wanting them to suffer from disuse. He turned small patches at a time, shuffling the richer earth up toward the surface bit by bit, until eventually there was a respectable area prepared. Nobody had asked him to install a garden, but it felt like it might be a useful contribution. It also helped to ground him. He had often tended the gardens back home, and found now that he was missing that work.

Short forays into the surrounding fields were still within the scope of Morgan's ability. Over the course of about a week, he'd managed to successfully transplant a reasonable variety of usable plants. Comfrey, feverfew, yarrow, and chamomile had all been easy enough to spot, and each had at least one medicinal use. They also had the benefit of being reasonably hardy, taking root well in the freshly turned earth. He had also experimented a little with some preparations of other plants he'd found - an outcrop of sway grass by a small lake, some sage nestled in among a patch of bright trefoil, a little bark from the willow just outside the encampment - but despite following standard procedures for preparation, none of the resultant concoctions did anything to relieve the pain of his injury. He took some fruits from what looked like an oleaster, intending to dry them for another attempt in the future, but he kept his expectations low. If the wound wasn't going to heal properly, it stood to reason that the other effects would also linger.

Cain had been good company, stopping by often. He inquired about the garden as it was talking shape and seemed legitimately interested in the various applications of the plants filling it. Morgan took care not to speak at too much length on any one topic, endlessly interesting though they were. Equally fascinating were the tales Cain had to share in exchange. The story of Tristram had been a sobering one, between the king's corruption by Diablo and the destruction it had wrought. And it seemed that it was not yet concluded, given the hero-turned-dark-wanderer who had fled. It would be worth pursuing that tale to its conclusion; Morgan's original request had been duly fulfilled, but the evident threat to the Balance was more pressing than returning to the Necropolis.

He'd also been alternating between meditating on ways to improve his clay golems and creating small versions to test the changes he'd thought of. So far he had come up with a lot of failed designs, going too far to the extremes to test the boundaries. A build with above average mobility that would crumble in combat, a strong and sturdy make that could absorb a great deal of punishment but would be too slow to hit anything that wasn't standing still. Now it was time to rein it in, to tinker with proportions and the flow of magic through the construct until something better emerged. Morgan slipped easily into the in-between state, retreating into his mind while his body rested in a comfortable cross-legged position. A pleasant breeze ruffled the leaves of the tree he was leaning against. Today would be good for focusing on the smaller details. He lost himself for a time in the contemplation of his designs.

A crawling, prickling discomfort pulled him back into reality. The sun was getting low in the sky. Someone had put their hand on his shoulder, and they were speaking to him.

"- word I've said, have you?" It was Blaise, looking annoyed.

Morgan shifted away from her, and she let her hand fall. "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't hear you. I was meditating." The rough sound of his voice was another thing he was still getting used to. He rubbed his throat gingerly. Should have thought to keep some water nearby.

"Of course you were. I said, I talked to Kashya and she's agreed to give you some training. If you're going to keep fighting monsters and demons, you'll need some help. With your swordplay. It's not very good."

She was right, of course. Now that he could no longer hold a shield, his sword would have to be defensive as well - and magic had always been his strength, not actual physical strength or coordination. He'd been planning to refocus himself entirely on the magical side of things, but this was undeniably a good idea even if he didn't relish the prospect of physical training. Any formal instruction in the use of a sword would be useful.

"When?"

"You're welcome. Whenever you're ready. As soon as tomorrow." Instead of turning to go, she sat next to him. He expected her to keep talking, but she didn't. Maybe she was working up to something. The silence stretched uncomfortably. She didn't like him, she'd often said as much - so why was she staying so near? He'd been doing his best to be avoidable, true to his word. She hadn't been taking advantage of it, instead crossing his path at least once a day. Probably some sort of sense of obligation. The Sisterhood had been treating him with a cautious, grudging respect since Andariel's defeat. It was... strange.

That reminded him of a question he'd been meaning to ask. Now seemed as good a time as any, so he turned to study her. "Blaise. Why did you tell everyone I killed Andariel?"

She startled visibly and raised a hand to shush him. "What the hell, Morgan," she hissed, "you can't just say-" she cut herself off, looking around furtively. Apparently satisfied that nobody was eavesdropping, she continued in hushed tones. "Look, if Akara and Kashya knew I killed that big ugly bitch, they'd never let me get away from this backwater. It's different for you. They're expecting you to go. And when you leave, I'm going with you. At least until I'm well away from here. This place... I'm not really cut out to be part of something like this."

"Ah." That explanation made enough sense. He hadn't realized she wanted to leave, but then he often didn't realize things about other people. Perhaps he'd misinterpreted her loyalty as fondness. There wasn't always a correlation there. She hadn't exactly been talkative during their time together - not to him, not about personal wishes and desires. It also explained the closeness; by spending time around him, she was putting on a front, laying the groundwork that would justify her departure. Satisfied, he turned away to look at the sky. It was starting to be tinged with pink, and it was lovely to see.

"How do you do it?" Now it was her turn to scrutinize him. She was staring intently at his face as though it was going to hold anything other than confusion. Do what? Had he slipped back into his thoughts and missed part of the conversation? "I mean, doesn't it bother you?" That clarified nothing. He stared blankly, and she huffed. "People don't like you. As a necromancer. I mean, we didn't exactly give you a warm welcome. But there's no way it's just us. Your kind are... well, hated."

Oh, that. It was just a fact. He'd come to accept it easily enough. People didn't usually take kindly to him even before they knew his particular area of specialization. He shrugged, wondering idly what had lead to the question. She didn't seem to like that response.

"It's normal," he offered.

"It's not normal! How could you think that's normal? How do you... live with it?" She gesticulated, as though the waving of her hands might clarify her meaning. It did not. How else would he live? He took a moment to search for the words to frame it.

"As followers of Rathma, we are driven by pursuit of the Balance. What others think of us is not important."

"Not im- Morgan, of course it's important! The way people treat you matters. You have to rely on other people all the time."

"I try not to."

Blaise pinched the bridge of her nose as though the conversation was giving her a headache. "Yeah, I know you do. But sometimes you don't have a choice. Like - there's no way you could have gone up against Andariel alone, she would have killed you in a second."

"Mm." While certainly true, it didn't change much. Alone, he would have been more cautious, planned better. Probably died anyway. Others would have come to take his place. His individual life only held value in the contribution it could make toward the Balance. Death came inevitably to all things; to die in service was at least honourable.

Blaise seemed agitated. "I don't think you understand - this is life and death stuff. For fuck's sake, you nearly did die! When-" she lowered her voice, which had risen in frustration. It shook a little. "When I brought you to Akara, she argued with me. She didn't want to waste her supplies on you. She was just going to let you die on her doorstep, because she doesn't like you. That's not normal. You can't just think that's okay."

It certainly wasn't extraordinary. That was why necromancers generally brewed their own potions, not that he'd had either the time or the forethought to reach for his own during the encounter. He started to shrug again. Akara had been pleasant enough since - oh. All the pieces came together suddenly, but the picture they formed didn't quite make sense. Blaise had lied to save him. She'd decided, probably on an impulse, out of desperation, to frame him as the hero because the healer wasn't going to touch him otherwise. She had wanted him to live, and had sacrificed her own part in the story to ensure his survival.

Of course, that type of instinctively selfless behaviour was part of the reason he'd decided she was a genuinely good person. But having that kindness extended to him - that was new. He didn't quite know what to make of it. People weren't kind to him, as a rule. That was familiar, at least, predictable. It didn't feel like he'd done anything to earn this special treatment. He'd have to tread carefully.

"It's what I'm used to," he said quietly. "Death comes to all things. We do not expect others to delay it for us. But you... are extraordinary." It didn't really feel adequate, but he would need some time to process this new information, and the moment would be long past by then. "Thank you," he added. That also felt shallow. He had no reference to draw from - what was the appropriate way to convey this tangle of feelings? Indebtedness, surprise, gratitude, admiration, and those were just the aspects he had names for. He purposely held her gaze for a moment, hoping she would be able to glean something from that since his words weren't doing the job.

Blaise opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. Instead, she stood and stretched. "I bet you haven't even eaten today. Come on, Charsi made these beautiful rabbit pies. You have to try them." She extended her hand toward him. He didn't especially want to join a communal meal, but it would be rude to refuse such a rare offer. And he had, in fact, neglected to eat. He took her hand to pull himself up. Tomorrow he would attempt to train with Kashya, but right now he wouldn't worry about it.

[incognitajones]

the ninth ficlet of Christmas

Long story: so first, @doptimous prompted me with “huddling for warmth” which is something I’ll write at the drop of a hat. And I was halfway through that when I realized it would make a suitable follow up to this (which is an off-cut from my RCSS story that didn’t fit with the direction it ended up going).

Anyway! Here’s part one, part two to follow tomorrow.

*

“I’m not Andor’s mother. Or yours,” Jyn snapped. “Why the pfassking hell are you asking for my permission to hit on him?”

She was one more syllable away from hauling off and punching the new recruit, and she must have looked it, because Dilek backed away and raised his hands as though he were trying to placate an angry Wookiie. “Yeah, yeah, I get that. I just wasn’t five by five on how things are between you two, okay? Didn’t want to step on anyone’s tail.” He smiled, too broad and conciliatory, in a way that signalled he wasn’t trying to start a fight.

She rolled her eyes, disgusted. “There isn’t anything between us. If what you’re really trying to ask is whether we’re fucking—none of your business, and I wouldn’t lead with that when you talk to Cassian. But hey, it’s your funeral.”  

The corrosive note of jealousy in her voice seemed obvious to Jyn, but Dilek only smiled broader. “Great. Thanks, Erso.” He tossed her a thumbs up gesture and jogged off down the icy corridor.

Jyn shoved her hands in her pockets and dug her chin into the collar of her parka. Sometimes, it seemed like she and Cassian must be the only two Rebels on Hoth who weren’t fucking. The entire base was riddled with ill-advised hookups, from the pilots to the kitchen detail. 

Sure, she was sleeping with him, but again, everyone did that on Hoth. If Jyn wasn’t shivering in bed next to Cassian, she had Bodhi clinging to her like a mynock. Once she’d even bunked in with Baze and Chirrut—who were possibly the only ones comfortable at all times on this ball of ice, since they’d had years of meditation practice to help them in regulating their core temperature. And everyone wore multiple layers at all times, even in bed, so there was nothing titillating about sleeping with Cassian. Comfort was all Jyn was after; she didn’t allow herself to think about peeling off his jacket, fatigues, and thermals to discover whether they could keep each other just as warm with fewer clothes.

So she didn’t have any patience for a horny kid right now, especially not after the three standard weeks she’d just spent hunting an Imperial special forces group—miserable, sleepless work on humid jungle planets crawling with venomous creatures. If she’d been a little curt with this moron who thought he had to get her permission before finding out whether Cassian was up for an hour of horizontal recreation, who could blame her?

Jyn hoped she’d never have to know the outcome; she certainly didn’t intend to witness the punchline to this joke. But she just happened to be in the hangar the next morning, trapped behind a slow-moving tech trying to juggle six datapads that required the head mechanic’s thumbprint. So she was only a metre or so away when Dilek hit on Cassian, who deflected so smoothly the kid didn’t even realize he’d been rejected.

He was persistent, she’d give him that. He asked again, hinting more broadly, and Cassian gave him a devastatingly blank look. She couldn’t hear his answer that time, but Dilek recoiled. His head dropped and he slunk away, all his confidence instantly deflated. It was so brutal that Jyn actually winced.

She should have kept her mouth shut. It wasn’t any of her business either. But she felt irrationally responsible, as though she hadn’t done enough to discourage Dilek. Once Kay had gone to recharge in the cargo hold and the two of them were alone in the cockpit, she looked sideways at Cassian and said, “You didn’t have to be mean to the kid. All he wanted was a date.”

Cassian’s exhale wasn’t long enough to be a sigh, but it still carried an edge of weary annoyance. “He didn’t want a date, he wanted bragging rights. A chance to boast about how he nailed the deadly spy.”

Jyn flinched at the cold judgment in Cassian’s tone. She’d never heard that from him before. Did he really have such a low opinion of anyone who wanted him? Is that what he’d think she was after, if she ever tried...?

“Come on, Jyn,” he said, misinterpreting her silence. “You know what I’m talking about—you must have seen it in the Partisans. There’s a certain type of recruit who thinks they have to be tougher than everyone else. And if they can’t take enough risks in the field, they try to prove how dangerous they are by hanging out with killers. That’s all I am to him: a trophy.”

Jyn shrugged. “Maybe.” She still thought he was being a little harsh.

“You think I was too hard on him?” His hands paused on the controls, and he looked at her incredulously.

Jyn’s mouth twisted into a bitter line as it struck her how ridiculous it was for her to encourage Cassian to sleep around. But frankly, she’d be relieved if he started fucking his way through the whole Rebellion (like the Antilles kid, who seemed intent on carving a notch into his X-wing for every pilot on base) as long as it made him happy. Because he wasn’t.

She knew him well enough to know he wasn’t in a good way. There was a ragged, jittery edge to his presence—Cassian, who could stay calmer when necessary than anyone else she’d ever known—that was new and disturbing. He carried himself with his shoulders constantly tensed, like someone waiting for a bomb to go off.

She couldn’t say that, though, so she just shrugged again. “If you’re not interested, you’re not. But it’s not so strange for him to want to get his rocks off with someone he has a crush on.” She hesitated, but she still felt a little guilty. “Besides, it’s partly my fault. Dilek asked me and I more or less told him to go for it.”

“He asked you?” The pre-flight checks were completely forgotten now as he stared at her.

Jyn winced. Stars, why had she brought up this cursed topic anyway? “He had some dumb idea that we were an item. So yeah, he asked me.”

Cassian’s hands began moving over the instrument panel again, but he didn’t say anything. And unlike their usual silences, this one was not comfortable.

Fine. She was this deep in a hole, she might as well keep digging. “You need to do something to take the edge off, Captain. I don’t care what, or who, but if you can’t find some way to relax, you’re wound so tight you’re going to snap.”

“In your professional opinion?” Oh, if she’d thought his voice was icy before, now it was flatter and colder than the glaciers outside.

“Yeah.” Jyn didn’t raise her voice either, but it was sharp enough to draw blood. “In my professional opinion, as someone who’s seen a lot of soldiers crash and burn.”

“Thank you for the suggestion, Sergeant Erso. I’ll take it under advisement.”

Jyn clenched her jaw to keep back more vicious words. Instead of cursing at him, she unbuckled her harness, got up from her seat and went to be with Kay in the hold. Cassian didn’t really need a co-pilot anyway, and if she stayed here she’d just wind up saying something else she’d regret. Like pleading with him, why not me?

[ part two ]

[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:*