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arlecchno · 2 years

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mission accomplished [ scaramouche x reader ]

four | step 1 - be friends

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classes start, and you're back in uni again. befriending viktor seems like a great opportunity for you to investigate more on him, and scaramouche shuts you out once more.

warnings: swearing, mention of guns and drinking, scara kinda cares for you lol

a/n: once again, sorry for the delay! i'll try to update as much as i can once i'm done with my midterms but please bear with me for now 😔 also i might start to write longer chapters so that you guys can enjoy it more. currently the average count of words in this series are around 2.2k to 2.5k. i still feel like they're a bit short so hopefully i can write longer ones in the future. happy reading!

grammatical errors may occur so please let me know if i've made any mistakes!

if 21 year old you told you that you'd be back in campus learning again, you wouldn't have believed yourself. but here you are, sitting in the class hall for your mass comm class that's about to start.

seems like you're the first one here.

you took criminology for your degree and immediately went to the police academy upon graduation, so mass comm is a pretty new area for you to learn.

hopefully it's not as dreadful as your former field of study, thinking about all of the stressful work you've done for your criminology class back then already makes your head sick.

if you went through 4 years alive in criminology, you definitely could survive in mass comm for a couple of months.

what pisses you off is that you're gonna have to take criminology again for some reason. that witch, you thought, thinking about the captain from your precint.

captain tsaritsa was the one who made you apply for an extra field of study and she insisted on you taking criminology. has that woman not learnt from her uni days? criminology was hell. you continued thinking, placing your palm under your chin and staring off to the void.

coincidentally scaramouche also applied for criminology. you're not sure whether the tsaritsa made him do that or he'd actually rather take criminology again, but you couldn't care less about him.

you didn't go to the same uni as him so you wouldn't know what kind of student he was. for all you know he was a top student and had a huge interest in criminology, and now he's willing to go through another few months in hell again.

that's what you assumed anyways.

"luna!" a voice called. you darted your eyes towards the person who called you by your fake name. it was viktor.

right, he said we should sit together in class the last time i met him, bringing your hand back to the table.

"oh, hey." you said. "looks like we do have the same schedule."

yes because as if captain tsaritsa wouldn't assign you on different schedules, when you're supposed to be going undercover and get more evidence from the one and only viktor stepanov. the one that's standing right beside your seat right now.

"yup! you're here pretty early. that eager to start your first ever class in campus, huh?" he mused, taking a seat beside you and taking out his laptop to prepare for the lecture in a couple of minutes.

you already had all of your stuff taken out from your bag on to the table, with a cup of coffee you made from your dorm before heading out. and the other students seemed to only arrive now unlike you, who arrived 10 minutes ago.

huh, you really do look like you're looking forward to this.

"well... it's safe to say that i'm an early riser. i usually wake up this early to get to work—" you said before stopping abruptly, almost slipping out the fact that you're working full-time. at a job that lets you legally hold and shoot a gun at that.

"w-work out! i'm usually up this early to do my work out routine." you quickly covered up, hoping that he didn't catch on.

you can barely get up from bed every day to go to work and suddenly you're working out, very ironic.

"that's interesting! you didn't seem like the type of person to be working out. but since we're friends, i guess it's nice to know a thing or two about you." viktor said.

great, now people can see through me that i don't work out regularly, you frowned.

it's not like you don't actually work out. your police job requires you to have the agility and physical endurance to chase and fight bad guys, so working out is pretty much obligatory. you're just... a bit on the lazy side is all.

viktor noticed the frown on your face and immediately tried to cover up his words upon realising that it sounded backhanded. "i-i mean, it's not like you look like a lazy person. ah, how do i say this..." he scratched his head. "you already look healthy so um, it's good that you're taking care of your health more!" viktor defended.

it's not exactly like the kind of compliment people would give, but viktor didn't seem to notice it. whatever, you thought, as long as he doesn't catch on your made up stories.

"maybe you can teach me how to work out sometime, i really need to get these muscles working..." he continued after a moment.

"sure, i'll let you know when i have the time for it." you replied nonchalantly, staring blankly at your laptop screen.

viktor smiled, turning to his laptop. "i'll hold on to that." after a few seconds, he turned back to you again.

"ah, i almost forgot."

"hm?"

viktor opened up his bag and rummaged through it before taking out a piece of flyer and handing it over to you.

"it's a party i'm hosting this weekend, it's at a frat house i don't use. i usually only use it on occasions like these or for some other personal business." he informed.

"everyone on campus is welcomed, so it'd be rude for me to not invite you. you're my utmost welcomed guest after all, just treat it like a welcoming party. and feel free to bring along your friends too! the party is just a little booze to get out from your cramped classes and loosen up a little before midterms." viktor said, almost as if he's pleading you to come to the party.

"i'll... think about it. thank you for inviting me, viktor. i'll let you know if i'm available for the weekend." you smiled at him, before the professor of the class arrived at the class hall.

"i'll be sure to wait for your answer." the tall man said, turning back to his laptop and focusing on the class that's about to start.

step 1 - be friends with viktor stepanov ||accomplished ✓

you opened the front door to your dorm, exhausted from the 1 hour lecture today.

well, to be honest it was 1 hour and almost 30 minutes. the 1 hour being the lecture and the latter was just you getting to know viktor better. he was the one who insisted on it, saying that it's good to know a few things about one another.

at least i've got some information on him, you thought.

"had fun on your first class as a returnee?" scaramouche asked, snickering at your limping body at the front door. he was on the couch, writing something on a book.

you flipped him off before heading to the couch and flopping right beside him. letting out a huge sigh, you leaned your head to the back and relaxed for a moment.

"i forgot how exhausting being an undergrad student can be, or grad, whatever. i don't even know if we should be called undergraduates when we've already graduated years ago." you mumbled, looking over towards scaramouche.

he was wearing his glasses. truly a rare sight. usually, he only wears them in occasions for reading and writing. hence why he never wears them in public. he'd never want to be known for using glasses.

you figured you were the only one who knows that he wears them, since he never bothers to put them away whenever he's with you.

you've always known everything about him, not like it's a surprising thing considering that you've been working with him for the last 5 years. he's a though nut to crack, but he's comfortable enough to loosen up around you once in a while.

"whatcha' doing?" you asked, pointing out to the book in his hands.

"writing some stuff about viktor. just some leads that we've gotten so far. you've got any?" he put his attention away from writing on the book, darting his indigo eyes towards you instead.

"ah, wait. let's see..." you muttered, taking a moment to think.

"he said he likes cooking."

"not related to our case."

"um, he wanted me to teach him how to work out."

"again, irrelevant to the case. and you? working out? you can barely get out of bed whenever childe calls you to go and have a mile run with him." scaramouche scoffed.

"shut the hell up. i almost slipped out and that was the closest word i could think of." you fought, staring daggers at scaramouche.

"anyways, he told me that his dorm is a few blocks away from the human resources building. he didn't say which though, but he did say that i'm always welcomed if i want come and visit." you said, taking another few seconds to think of other information he's said to you.

"ah, he did mention that he has a pretty packed schedule and that i'd have to call him up first before going to his dorm, in which i do have his number." you continued. "it's really suspicious considering he only has 4 classes a week."

"and he told me he doesn't have a roommate so he basically lives alone, pretty much adds up to the case..." scaramouche hummed, listening to your current leads.

"and last but not least..." you opened up your bag and took out a piece of flyer you've gotten from viktor. you shoved it right in front of scaramouche's face.

"what?" scaramouche asked coldly, snatching the flyer away from your hand. "frat house party...? y/n, just because we're back as students for this case, doesn't mean-"

"ah, ah— i haven't told you the news yet. look here." you said, pointing out to a bold text that says 'viktor awaits you' at the bottom of the flyer.

you smiled at your next words.

"apparently viktor has a frat house he doesn't use. every semester he hosts a frat party and invites everyone in campus to have a bit of fun. it just so happens his upcoming party is this weekend." you finished, grinning up at scaramouche.

"oh—oh no. nope, we're not going." scaramouche quickly refused.

"dude, come on! it's part of the case. we are supposed to do everything in order to get enough information on viktor and this is one of the greatest times to do so! do you really want to stay cramped up here, with me, your sworn enemy?" you pressed, shaking scaramouche's shoulders violently.

"do you even remember what happened last time you got drunk at a party?" scaramouche glared at you, shoving your hands away from his shoulders.

ah— that time.

you got extremely drunk and almost got run over by a dumpster truck. pretty ironic, knowing how slow dumpster trucks are.

"i promise i'd be sober this time! we're supposed to catch up on leads, not partying our asses off." you pouted.

"well, it also wouldn't hurt to have at least a bit of fun..." you mumbled.

scaramouche was glaring at you again and you immediately continued your sentence.

"—just to fit in! wouldn't want people to get suspicious of us. come on dude, i already miss my desk and i want to be back before winter hits. you know how winter is in snezhnaya. campus is not a great place to be spending your winter time." you pleaded, looking over to the balcony of your dorms.

the leaves were molten-red and the fall breeze gives a warm welcome to the autumn season. it's one of the only seasons you get to experience without the snezhnaya snow hitting the grounds and freezing up the weather. it gives you a nice feeling to have the opportunity to do the most before winter comes.

"...fine. i suppose a couple of hours there wouldn't hurt." scaramouche reluctantly agreed, looking to your direction. he takes up on the view of you looking over to the balcony. though still pretty early in the afternoon, the view in front of him is mesmerising.

upon hearing his reply, you turned your head back to him, smiling giddily at him while clasping your hands.

scaramouche swore the smile was genuine.

"well then that's settled! i'm looking forward to this weekend." you happily said, standing up and heading to your room.

scaramouche on the other hand was still on the couch, slightly frozen from the sweet smile you gave him a few seconds ago.

his ears were slightly red and he had an embarrassed expression plastered on his face. he blinked a couple of times before bringing a hand up to his face that's currently burning up.

what in the world is happening, he thinks.

it's probably just a fever.

"heading out already?" you asked scaramouche, whilst drying off your wet hair with a clean towel. you just got out of the shower a few minutes ago.

1:32 pm, the clock on the wall read.

he doesn't have class until 3 pm, that's almost an hour and 30 minutes. why is he going out so soon?

"i just need to take care of a couple of things outside of campus." the short male said, taking his car keys from the key bowl you contended on having, saying that it's a nice addition to the dorms. he took his shoes on the shoe rack and slipped them on.

"you've been heading out to run errands outside of campus lately. mind i ask why?" you questioned, heading off to the kitchen to get a drink. he's been leaving the dorms to run off to his car and leave campus for the past few days now.

it's not like you're worried, it's just highly suspicious.

you've always wanted to ask what sort of errands he needed to run that he needs to go out frequently, guess this is a good time to ask.

"what, wanna come?" scaramouche raised his brow, unlocking and opening up the door.

"ah, no, not really. i just wanted to know-"

"then don't ask." he snapped at you suddenly, slamming the door.

you winced at the sound. "jeez, i was just asking. grumpy much..."

you shrugged. well, it's not my business to pry. whatever the hell he's doing outside, it's not my right to need to know. it's not like he'd say it even if you asked him nicely with pleading eyes.

you moved to the couch and took a seat, taking a few moments of relaxation before opening your laptop to finish up more of the investigation work you have on viktor.

you huffed. there's a lot of stuff you'll need to update on before sending it to the precint.

"i wonder what they're all doing..." you mumbled, referring to your co-workers. you miss hearing pulcinella's daily good morning greetings to everyone, childe and his single life problems, signora and her bashful words, and so on.

even if they can get annoying sometimes, they're the reason you enjoy working on this tedious line of duty every day. it's nice knowing that there are other people that are willing to place their lives on a thread just to keep snezhnaya safe.

your phone on the coffee table vibrated. heading to the living room, you took your phone and opened the message you received.

scara

i'm gonna come home a bit late after i'm done with class

i've got something to do.

there's some food i made for you while you were in class

it's in the fridge on the middle

make sure to eat

scara replied to "ive got someth..."

don't bother asking me.

well, looks like you'll have the dorm all to yourself the whole evening.

scaramouche sighed, looking at the texts he sent you.

he appreciates your respect of boundaries. you never bother to pry into his business when he asks not to, while still being caring and thoughtful. it's one of the qualities he likes about you. it's also one of the reasons why he still can stand you after all these years.

he leaned back against the leathered seat of his car before looking back at the parking lot of the dorms.

i'll tell her when the time comes. eventually.

hehe don't be fooled with the title it's just y/n and viktor being friends

taglist; @beriiov @cloudsandrenoswife @thenightsflower @bleedingwhiteroses222 @yuuki4646 @hopesandlegacy

send an ask or dm me to be in the taglist!

#scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact imagines #genshin #genshin impact #reader insert #mission accomplished #genshin scaramouche #genshin x reader #slow burn #scaramouche fluff #h✧˖—mission accomplished

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ao3feed-esperboys · 11 months

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You Think It's Just a Fantasy

you think it's just a fantasy by dandelionbeach

It's been about a month since the start of the school year, and Kageyama has been coming over to the apartment multiple times a week, every week. He even came with Teru and Reigen for their usual out-to-eat Friday night dinner, just two days ago.

Kageyama certainly did not spend this much time with Teru before. Not even last year, when they shared a class at school.

There are three conclusions Teru has drawn as a result of this:

1.) He's almost positive that Kageyama has a huge crush on him, and -

2.) He's developed a pretty sizable crush on Kageyama in return, and -

3.) The only reason nothing has happened between them so far is because Reigen is always around.

Words: 5742, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: モブサイコ100 | Mob Psycho 100

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen, M/M

Characters: Hanazawa Teruki, Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo, Reigen Arataka

Relationships: One-Sided Hanazawa Teruki/Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo, Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo & Reigen Arataka, Hanazawa Teruki & Reigen Arataka

Additional Tags: Humor, Fluff, Post-Canon, Pining, Teru lives with reigen, terumob are in high school btw, so much pining lol, teru pining after mob and mob pining after....no....it can't be...

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47288620

#AO3 Feed #FanFiction #AO3 Terumob #♥#Terumob #Reigen Arataka #💛#💜#R:T #A:Dandelionbeach #Future Fic #Fluff #May 2023

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wheezykat · 1 year

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I posted 1,983 times in 2022

7 posts created (0%)

1,976 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@peachpety

@vukovich

@museiums

@ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm

I tagged 530 of my posts in 2022

#drarry - 41 posts

#lmfao - 13 posts

#pansy mf parkinson - 11 posts

#drarry fanart - 9 posts

#i wanna live in a house filled with joy's art - 9 posts

#my baby is a real peach 🍑 - 9 posts

#stranger things - 8 posts

#harry potter - 8 posts

#ginsy - 8 posts

#draco malfoy - 8 posts

Longest Tag: 69 characters

#🤣❤💕👀🥺😊👍😂😘😍😏😭😀😅😩🥵🦝🔥🍵😐🌵😤😌📚🦊🥴👁😔😳🧋🏔🕯🍊😠🤔

My Top Posts in 2022:

Chapters: 1/6 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Others (Offscreen) Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Original Muggle Character(s) Additional Tags: Angst, It gets better I promise, Down and Out Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Post-War, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Sex Worker Draco Malfoy, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Panic Attacks, Touch Averse Draco Malfoy, References to Depression, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, (not between drarry and offscreen), these warnings sound dark but i promise it's not all that, Eventual Happy Ending, Coffee Shops, Coffee Shop Owner Draco Malfoy, Explicit Sexual Content, Eventual Smut, there are SOME feelings in here, as per usual, Illustration by Babooshkart, (feat in ch 2), Angst and Hurt/Comfort Summary:

After the war, Draco tries to make a life in the Muggle world.

Potter keeps showing up.

14 notes - Posted September 24, 2022

❤ last lines! ❤

Thanks @phd-mama for tagging me!!

I've been working like crazy instead of writing (s i g h) BUT. I do have something for this :) from my self indulgent Panama ginsy fic!

“Mmm, el mundo es un pañuelo,” Parkinson murmers, reaching up to twist her long black hair to one side, “Only so many places to go, Ginevra.”

Tagging my best bbs and beans @amorsindolor @vukovich @peachpety @calypsotempete @wynnyfryd @secretartlair @academicdisaster24 @nv-md @fw00shy @the-sinking-ship

24 notes - Posted February 4, 2022

drarry tag game

Thank you @calypsotempete and @vukovich for tagging me! How fun. Lol.

When did you get into Drarry and why? I was actually a Jily/Wolfstar shipper back in OG fandom days, and sometimes I would read Viktor/Hermione fic and drarry would be the side pairing. Anyhoo, got back into fandom in 2019 and went down the rabbit hole looking for some of my favorite older fics, somehow ended up in dramione-land and read practically every fic on AO3 for the pairing (I know this sounds crazy, and I wouldn’t believe it if it hadn’t happened to me 😂💀) and then was sad that I had read mostly everything. Dabbled a bit in Drarry fics, reading them at random while waiting for new WIP chapters, for a few months. Then I made a Tumblr. I saw art for Running on Air by @tinyhistory. I am a simple raccoon, I see pretty things, I click. I ended up reading the entire fic in one sitting.

Which Drarry fic hooked you? The Fallout by everythursday (Dramione) is the fic that dragged me back to fandom kicking and screaming. Running on Air is what brought me over to Drarry (and by god, is it beautiful!!), but the fic that truly hooked me was Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop. I think that same week after I finished it, after the requisite amount of time spent staring at a wall and feeling as if my entire life had changed, I sat down and read through all of bix/firethesound/loveglows/lqt fics. There was not a lot of sleep happening. Lol.

Top three favorite Drarry fics: this was so difficult 😂 my 400 bookmarks are yelling at me!

1. Coming Home by @nerdherderette

M, 9.8k - TWs: MCD, Grief/Mourning, Mild Sexual Content

Three years after his world was shattered, Harry tries to pick up the pieces at the place he once called home.

I literally can’t even count the amount of times I’ve read this fic - I know that in 2021 I read it 18 times. 💀💀 And I’ve begged countless people to read it. It’s so gorgeous; the prose is exactly what you expect, entirely captivating and encompassing, and Harry’s grief feels so real. Though we don’t get a happy ending here, there’s something about this fic that holds my entire heart. This story taught me a lot as a writer about how a story doesn’t need to be fairy tales and rainbows at the end to have a striking and meaningful conclusion that feels right.

2. genesis (you don’t know what it means to win) by crossourbridges

T, 73.5k - No TWs

Harry Potter didn’t help the Malfoy’s because he owed them; he did it because it was the right thing to do. He’s not sure why he keeps going back to visit, except that it seems to annoy Draco Malfoy and he loves annoying Draco Malfoy.

Ya’ll. This Harry. He is the ultimate characterization for me. Honestly, this type of fic is largely not my style - it’s kind of light-hearted and humorous, and there is no smut (😭). BUT. and this is a huge but. The writing is so dynamic, and the drarry banter is SPOT ON, and there’s even some lovely interaction with Narcissa, who I absolutely adore in this story. It’s SO GOOD. I find myself coming back to this fic as a comfort read (because who doesn’t read 74k words for comfort). I absolutely fall in love with the boys all over again every time. I tend to keep this fic open in my tabs, that’s how often I read it!

3. the space between (what you want and what you need) by disapparater

M, 13.6k - TWs: major character injury, disability, sexual dysfunction

As a specialist Healer in dark magic, Draco has had his fair share of difficult cases and awkward patients. Still, nothing has prepared him for a curse-paralysed Harry Potter.

Okay. I’m not going to lie. This isn’t an easy read. (In fact, you’ll find that most of the fics I enjoy aren’t). But this is a heartfelt look at acquired physical disabilities, and also features an ace! Draco. Be still, my beating heart! Literary weaknesses abound! As someone who grew up with a disabled parent, who saw the journey in real time and up close, this fic speaks to me on a different level. I love the depth of Harry’s character, and I love the fact that this author chose to write from Draco’s POV as a healer. Being that we’re in Draco’s POV, it’s also incredible to read this fic and get to experience what is, in my opinion, a more accurate portrayal of asexuality/ace spectrum characterisation. As someone who is demi, I’m constantly on the lookout for ace rep in fiction, and this is one of my absolute favorites for that reason. (You can see some of my other ace/demi faves here in my bookmark collection).

HONORABLE MENTIONS

💕 Crown Witness by @slytherco - E, 70k. TWs - violence

After the war, wizarding society is oppressed by a new kind of plague—an organised crime group calling itself the Family.

When Harry Potter goes to interrogate a potential witness, he doesn’t expect to end up on the run again, trying to keep Draco Malfoy alive, while a manhunt follows in their footsteps, adamant on eliminating the one witness that could ruin everything.

In which Harry and Draco learn that the way to each other might just have to go through the dingiest hotels in Britain.

💕 The Body Keeps Score by @amorsindolor - E, 13.5k. TWs - mentions of past trauma (not between drarry)

Draco cries during sex.

A story about touch, intimacy, and the healing we find through mutual trust and love.

💕 holemate by @vukovich - E, 18.9k. TWs - description of wasting disease

Most people never get a soulmate. Harry has buried three. When the mark appears again, this time alongside an American Auror, perhaps a diversion can keep everyone alive. A diversion that looks a whole lot like a chaotic, fuckable Malfoy.

💕 Have Your Cake and Eat It, Too by @peachpety - E, 3.9k. No TWs.

Harry Potter loves his birthday… until he doesn’t.

All it takes is a miserable slice of jealousy, sprinkled with an unfortunate slip of the tongue, and doused with a heavy dollop of pining to turn Harry sour. Fortunately for him, Draco Malfoy is there to sweeten the day.

See the full post

28 notes - Posted March 10, 2022

six-ish sentences

whew. it’s been awhile since i’ve had anything to share (life is cray for me rn, iykyk) but some lovelies tagged me and whelp. i have this unedited lil nugget that isn’t for anything in particular (except my love of pansy and stuffing too many adjectives in my scenes). ty @vukovich @drarrymybeloved @the-sinking-ship @mintamintathings for the tags <3

They’re in Panama, this time; the rattling of street carts and faint chatter mix with the sound of twilight waking, its insects chirping as the moon slowly rises against a bruised blue-red sky. A curl of smoke drifts, hazy and swirling in the balmy air, thick and lethargic. It’s heavy, hanging stilted and slow-rising, making the grey smoke lazy in its escape.

Ginny sighs, watching for a beat, before her feet are moving her across the room. Inch by inch, slender legs reveal themselves, and her eyes can’t help but follow that bare skin up, up, up, their path only impeded by the thin, white cotton robe wrapping itself around Parkinson’s body. She’s languid, in the way she only gets when she’s away, when she knows Ginny has come at her beck and call once again, lounging loose-limbed, a fag hanging delicately between her fingers over the edge of the chair.

“Thought you’d quit.”

Parkinson’s face turns, eyes flashing open as she lifts the cigarette to her lips, taking a slow drag and exhaling it out the side of her mouth.

“Thought you said you wouldn’t come.”

tagging my darlings @peachpety @corvuscrowned @calypsotempete @amorsindolor @wynnyfryd @nv-md @drarryruinedme @avenueofesc @mystickitten42 @thusspoketrish @softlystarstruck

32 notes - Posted January 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

throwing rope

@nv-md, my darling. i present to you some shameless Ginny thirst art, and as a bonus, a wee pining Pansy POV. happy valentine’s day, and happy early bday, Ali! <3 i cherish you. all my love to @amorsindolor for the beta, hype, and endless wisdom. 💕 you can also read it on AO3! (you can see a better quality image too!)

Pansy’s heels are rubbing, even encased in familiar worn leather as they are, her shirt sticky and starched from the sweat of the day. A little piece of her aches, small and sharp, watching as a faint smile crosses Ginevra’s lips, even in the thick of it all. The heat bears down on their backs as the sun burns across the skyline.

Wisps of hair escape Ginevra's braid —tickling her nose and sticking to the perspiration dotting her skin —a loop of rope held in her loose fist. It’s dusty today, much like it is everyday, a thin film of ochre infiltrating anything not locked down or closed up tight. The constant stomping of boots and hooves kicking up the earth is a regrettable exasperation, spinning tiny whirlwinds of grit to tuck into every crevice.

Pansy thinks that maybe she wasn’t quite built for this world, feeling shaky in her own skin, smothering it all up in sharp barbs and snarky quips, edging out anyone who might get close enough to find her out. But Ginevra, well. It’s like she’d been carved out of the mighty red rocks themselves, standing in strong relief against the backdrop. Taking her own place in the landscape, belonging to the earth and the sky and the stars.

Ginevra laughs, looking at Pansy a split-second before she throws her rope through the air.

It’s that feeling, those hidden looks and sly smiles, that tells her this much for certain: that she may be able to count her name among the rest of those great, big things that tether Ginevra to this world.

And that Pansy wants to feel her own lasso pull taut.

60 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #it was a ginsy year i suppose #2022 was rough let's hope for a better 2023

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ao3feed-timkon · 9 months

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Gotham Ghosts

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2HlObUN

by Spaced_Ace

Everything was wrong. The apartment, the city, the way they were all crowded together. Jazz should be in Princeton, becoming the world’s best and most terrifying psychologist. Dan in the Far Frozen devoting himself to being one of the Yeti’s finest healers. Elle off darting across the world, never landing in the same place twice unless it was to come visit. Danny in Amity Park’s little community college, struggling his way through a planned path that might one day lead him to NASA and space.

He didn’t know where Tucker, Sam, and Val were. Only knew they were alive because he could barely, barely feel the Bonds connecting them to him. Amity Park was gone. A memory of fire and screaming had had barely been aware for. A collection of nightmares that left Elle shaking and crying often enough to trickle through the bleak distance of Unbeing for him to know some of what happened.

A collection of scenes and moments only sometimes in order following the lives of the Nightingales in Crime Alley. Trying to keep their heads down as they meet the Bats - and their Supers, make friends (or enemies), cause chaos, fall in love and sometimes even save the day. It's usually just chaos though.

Words: 4967, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Danny Phantom, Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi

Characters: Danny Fenton, Jazz Fenton, Danielle "Dani" Phantom, Dan Phantom, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Kon-El | Conner Kent, Damian Wayne, Jonathan Kent, Jon Lane Kent, Jonathan Samuel Kent, Dick Grayson, Batfamily Members, Justice League (DCU), Harvey Dent, J'onn J'onzz, Other Character Tags to Be Added, Stephanie Brown

Relationships: Danny Fenton & Jazz Fenton, Danny Fenton & Danielle "Dani" Phantom, Danny Fenton & Dan Phantom, Jazz Fenton & Danielle "Dani" Phantom, Jazz Fenton & Dan Phantom, Dan Phantom & Danielle "Dani" Phantom, Jazz Fenton/Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Danny Fenton, Danny Fenton/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Tim Drake/Danny Fenton/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Danielle "Dani" Phantom/Damian Wayne, Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Jonathan Samuel Kent/Danielle "Dani" Phantom, Jon Lane Kent/Danielle "Dani" Phantom, Jon Lane Kent/Damian Wayne, Jonathan Samuel Kent/Danielle "Dani" Phantom/Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson/Dan Phantom, Jazz Fenton & Harvey Dent, Danielle "Dani" Phantom & J'onn J'onzz, Stephanie Brown & Jason Todd, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added

Additional Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Ecto-Contaminated | Liminal Jazz Fenton, Tall Jazz Fenton, Dan Phantom Redemption, Bad Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton, Protective Amity Park Residents (Danny Phantom), Jazz has magic, Ghost Obessions, Ghost Cores (Danny Phantom), Protective Jazz Fenton, Danny Jazz Elle & Dan are on the run from the GIW/Fentons, Dissociation, Danny dissociates, i have no idea how to tag this, takes place over the course of several years, Non-Linear Narrative, Enemies to Lovers, (that'd be the Dick/Dan stuff lol), idiots to lovers, (that'd be Danny w/ Kon & Tim Elle w/ Damian & Jon), dorks to lovers, (that'd be Jazz and Jason being total nerds for one another), Other Additional Tags to Be Added

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2HlObUN

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #timkon

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ladysunamireads · 11 months

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You Think It's Just a Fantasy

you think it's just a fantasy by dandelionbeach

Kageyama certainly did not spend this much time with Teru before. Not even last year, when they shared a class at school.

There are three conclusions Teru has drawn as a result of this:

1.) He's almost positive that Kageyama has a huge crush on him, and -

2.) He's developed a pretty sizable crush on Kageyama in return, and -

3.) The only reason nothing has happened between them so far is because Reigen is always around.

Words: 5742, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: モブサイコ100 | Mob Psycho 100

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen, M/M

Characters: Hanazawa Teruki, Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo, Reigen Arataka

Relationships: One-Sided Hanazawa Teruki/Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo, Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo & Reigen Arataka, Hanazawa Teruki & Reigen Arataka

Additional Tags: Humor, Fluff, Post-Canon, Pining, Teru lives with reigen, terumob are in high school btw, so much pining lol, teru pining after mob and mob pining after....no....it can't be...

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47288620

#AO3 Feed #FanFiction #AO3 Terumob #♥#Terumob #Reigen Arataka #MP100 #⚣#🔮#R:T #Future Fic #A:Dandelionbeach

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ao3feed-lokitony · 10 months

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The M word

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/5s6YNiK

by tastymedleys

Tony huffs at some romance film that no doubt would mean nothing to Loki, and mutters in amused exasperation, "God, always such a big deal about marriage. What even is the point?"

And perhaps it's the comfortable atmosphere, because usually Loki would just hum noncommittally, maybe divert the topic to just about anything else. But this time he shrugs slightly instead, eyes not even leaving the page as he replies, "I suppose I can see the appeal."

Words: 2443, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Loki (Marvel), Tony Stark

Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Marriage Proposal, but mostly just marriage talk lol, Implied Sexual Content, They only talk about it, rating is just to be safe, Dialogue Heavy

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/5s6YNiK

#ao3feed #fanfic #frostiron #ironfrost #loki x tony #tony x loki

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ao3feed-tododeku · 2 years

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Lovesick Season

Lovesick Season by Spidermonkeyyy

" By now some of the quirk's effects were showing, his classmates fidgeting in their seats, cheeks heated with a flushed red, heavy breathing cutting through the silence. All, except Todoroki, who remained largely unfazed as usual. “Listen up. Iida and Todoroki were helpful enough to brief me on the situation at hand, and it's an unfortunate one.”, Aizawa spoke. “The most worrisome part of this whole quirk accident seems to be the side effects caused by refusal. Todoroki had mentioned a number of unpleasant symptoms, and in the interest of all your well-being I encourage you all to share whatever it is that ‘burdens you’, so to speak.” " - A quirk accident forces some of 1-A's students to reveal their deepest secrets. or: Izuku crushes and is being crushed on, Bakugou and Uraraka take madly in love to another level, and Todomomo are the besties they deserve to be. Written for Tododeku Week days 3,4 and 5! :)

Words: 5670, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shouto, Iida Tenya, Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou Katsuki, Yaoyorozu Momo, Class 1-A, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead

Relationships: Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto

Additional Tags: Quirk Accident, Allergy season (as a plotdevice), One-Sided Midoriya Izuku/Uraraka Ochako, Jealousy, One-Sided Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku, Engame/Only game tddk lol, Light Angst, Pining Midoriya Izuku, Oblivious Todoroki Shouto, Platonic besties Todoroki Shouto/Yaoyorozu Momo, Brief description of sickness/nauseau, Fighting over someone (comedically), Feral Uraraka Ochako, Very feral Bakugou Katsuki, let them duke it out, as a treat, Secrets, Revelations, AFO is not a secret tho, TodoDeku Week, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40242264

#AO3 Feed #FanFiction #AO3 Tododeku #💙#💚#Tododeku #♥#R:T #A:Spidermonkeyyy #Angst

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ao3feed-undertale1 · 1 month

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Warmed Bones Kept Toasty

read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54788281 by freshywritescrap (freshiewrites) The thing was, usually Coffee didn’t mind. It was a fun game, a thing that only he and his brother knew about. No one else needed to know about it, a cheeky little secret that made his face flush with a golden hue whenever he let himself think about it. Words: 2000, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Undertale (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: fellswap gold papyrus, fellswap gold sans - Character Relationships: Papyrus/Sans (Undertale), Fellswap Gold Papyrus/Fellswap Gold Sans, Coffee/Wine Additional Tags: Fluff, Alternate Universe - Fellswap Gold (Undertale), Smut, Chastity Device, Skeleton Heat, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), guys i havent written smut in probably two years, ive forgotten the tags lol, Coffee is a somewhat kinky fucker, Wine is a gentleman as always, Heats, idk if i need something else tell me lol read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54788281

#ao3feed #ao3undertalefeed #fanfic #undertale #undertale-fanfic

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gojosoath · 2 years

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Wilted Grace — Nanami/Gojo Fic

MINORS DON’T INTERACT! // 18+ ONLY!

pairing: nanami kento x gojo satoru x fem!reader (uses she/her pronouns) x poly relationship

genre: romance x angst x smut x polyamory x AU (no sorcerer stuff in this au, nanami and gojo are just normal dudes living in a normal world, lol)

warnings: SA x smut x a bit of an age gap (everyone is a consenting adult fyi) x explicit language

Summary: (AU) The story follows Y/N, Nanami and Gojo in a polyamorous relationship; the three of them navigating the new dynamic relationship for the first time in their lives. The three of them begin exploring aspects both emotionally and sexually, finding themselves on a complex journey of facing their inner demons and also healing themselves.

Table of Contents

a/n: I overthought this chapter way too much. No matter what I did, I couldn’t seem to be 100% satisfied with it. Anyways, hope you guys enjoy it. Feedback is deeply appreciated! :)

Part 2: Reservation for Two (wc: 2.4k)

Nanami had practically spit out his coffee when he saw you already suggested the two of you meet up in person. He wasn’t sure if this is usually how fast dating app messages go. He reminded himself, then again, the whole point of dating apps was about getting together in person and getting to know each other. He couldn’t pinpoint why exactly he was freaking out about setting up a date with you when he’s been on blind dates that were set up by his sister, mom, and even Gojo. Nanami always went to those blind dates feeling like he needed to get them over with, he always left them with a weight off his shoulders.

Nanami set his coffee mug down, he already opened up your message and felt he needed to respond now instead of later. He didn’t want to leave you on read and think he wasn’t interested anymore. What was the difference? Getting to know someone through a screen or in person. He preferred to meet someone in person and responding to your message would be to go down that path. Nanami braces himself and types out a response to you;

Nanami: Thank you for sharing your hobbies. Sure, we can set aside a time and day to have dinner together. When are your free times?

┅

1 week later

“Do you think you two will end up fucking tonight?”

You gave your roommate a wide eye look, “Chloe, we need to make sure I don’t get kidnapped first. One step at a time.”

Chloe is applying their liner in the mirror, pausing to take a look at the process so far, “Okay, but if he doesn’t kidnap you, do you think you two will have sex or no?”

You finished putting in your earrings, “I don’t know!” You exclaimed, moving over to your bed and shoving last-minute items into your bag like your chapstick, wallet, and a pocket-sized mirror. “I usually like to take things slow and let stuff happen naturally, you know?”

Chloe turns around in her seat to look at you, “The pictures you showed me of him, he was so fucking hot.”

You couldn’t hold back the smile appearing on your lips, “He is very hot, yes. But, you never know, he could be a misogynistic, narcissistic psychopath.”

Chloe comes over to your side and hands you one of their perfume bottles, “We’ll find out tonight, then.”

┅

Nanami decided on a plain gray tie to go with his black button-up shirt. He opens up the drawer in his walk-in closet and chooses his favorite wristwatch, one he had last year as a birthday gift from his mom. He had his blonde hair gelled and combed in his usual business attire, and he decided at the last minute to go without his glasses and put his contacts in. He was always slightly conscious of the way he looked without his glasses as his dark circles were much more noticeable without them.

Nanami had made a reservation for the two of you at a restaurant that was a ten-minute drive from his place. You told him during the planning of your guys’ messages that you’d be able to make it to the restaurant on your own. Nanami appreciated your already assertive and clear communication, telling him your available times to meet up with dinner that fit your class schedule and that you’ve already got the transportation covered to go back to your place.

Nanami double-checked everything, his outfit, hair, cologne. He’s used to having the jitters before dates, but this one seemed amped up. He knew the reason being that you two met through a dating app and the eight-year age gap. Plus, it’s been four years since he was in a long-term relationship, and that was with Julia. He couldn’t help but feel he was getting too old for dating, for meeting new people. After most of his dates the past years that never went anything beyond a first date, he couldn’t help but drown himself into his office work. He’d always stay overtime at the office, head stuffed between paperwork and multiple computer screens, overloading on caffeine. He wanted to keep himself busy, it’s why he would usually fall asleep while reading something on his tablet or a book in bed.

Nanami slipped his wallet into the pocket of his blazer and grabbed his car keys. He didn’t realize he had forgotten his phone back in his room until he had made it to the elevator. As he walked back to his room, he said to himself, “Get yourself together, Nanami.”

┅

Nanami arrived at the restaurant early. He did this intentionally, as his nervousness put pressure on him to not mess this first date up. He arrived at the restaurant thirty minutes earlier than the original set date time you two had decided on. He told the greeter that he had a reservation for two and he was guided to his table. The restaurant had cozy fairy lights that went around the ceilings, and tall plants placed in the corner of the room. The tables were covered with a white cloth and in the middle were several fake candles and vines. Nanami wasn’t much of a drinker, to begin with, he only drank when it was at employee dinners when the boss was present. And even then, he’d only take a few sips and call it day. The waiter offered Nanami wine but Nanami kindly refused as you were still not of age to legally be drinking.

A few minutes after the planned date time and you arrived at the restaurant. Nanami was looking at the menu but not reading anything. It wasn’t until Nanami heard the waiter by him that he realized you had arrived. Nanami immediately stood up and greeted you with a small bow of his head.

“Good evening, Y/N,” He lowered his gaze.

You extended your arm out to him and Nanami took it, giving you a gentle handshake, “Hi, Nanami. So glad to see you,” You gave him a confident, pretty smile and sat down in your seat.

The first thought that came to Nanami’s head seeing you for the first time in person was; She’s much more beautiful in person. He thought you looked stunning in your simple dress that came down to your shins. The dress had spaghetti straps and was a deep purple, it hugged your figure in all the right places. Nanami wanted to hide his face behind the menu when another thought crept into his mind; She’s got nice tits.

Nanami shoved the thought to the side, and cleared his throat, “You can look through the menu and see what you want. Take your time.”

You set your chin in your hands and continued to give him a pretty smile, “I already know what I want. I have a habit of looking at the menu before eating somewhere.”

Nanami gives you a small nod, “Sounds wonderful. I’ve eaten here before, I usually stick with the same thing.”

“So,” You gushed, “I’ll be honest with you, you’re very handsome, Nanami.”

Nanami looked like he had just seen you transform into an angel, “Oh, uh…thank you, Y/N. I apologize…” he slightly tugs at his tie, “I wasn’t expecting that comment, but I appreciate it.” Nanami flips through the menu and then adds sheepishly, “You’re very pretty yourself, Y/N.”

You didn’t seem shy from his compliment at all, “Whatever you want to know about me, just ask,” you lean back in your chair, not breaking eye contact with him. The waiter arrives and asks if you two are ready to order, the two of you do so. Once the waiter leaves, you’re the one to resume the conversation. “How long have you worked in an office setting?”

“Since I’ve graduated college, I majored in business and marketing.”

You raise your eyebrows, “I get the feeling you’ve got too much personality to work in an office setting.”

Nanami was thrown off guard by your comment, “How so?”

You lightly shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know, you just give me the feeling that you chose the easiest career choice. Is there anyone out there that actually enjoys business?”

This earned an unexpected, small laugh from Nanami, he couldn’t help it, you were right. There’s no way anyone would enjoy such a corrupted and depressing subject. The business was all about selfishly bringing as much profit to the company you worked at as possible; no matter how dirty the process is to get there.

“What about you?” Nanami asks, “What are you majoring in?”

“Graphic designing,” You said, “I know there’s a heavy business to graphic designing, but I enjoy the freedom of expression you’re able to do digitally. Well, when you’re able to have the freedom of expression.”

Nanami nods his head and then says, “I feel that we should address our age gap.”

“I agree.”

Nanami begins, “I’ve never been with anyone as young as you. The youngest I’ve been with someone was only by a year.”

“You’re my first.”

“What?” He asked, blinking.

“You’re my first date, ever.”

“I thought you said you’ve had experience with dating apps.”

“I’ve been on dating apps,” You clarified, “but it never went anything beyond messaging. Didn’t seem to go further than that. I wasn’t allowed to date in my household.”

Nanami is panicking on the inside by what you just revealed to him; this was your first ever date?! He had to make sure it was a good date, no, a perfect date. But why would you choose someone this much older to be your first date? For your first date, you were pretty damned charismatic and seemed relaxed. Nanami remembers his first date that was when he was a sophomore in high school and he was a nervous wreck. No, Nanami felt terrified, if this was your first date, it shouldn’t be with someone like him, it should be someone in one of your classes. Someone you meet at a frat party or someone your friend sets up with.

“Are you sure you want someone like me to be your first date?” Nanami finds himself asking you.

You think for a moment, “Hmm,” You set both of your elbows onto the table, “I mean, I’m already here, might as well see how it goes.”

Nanami feels like the room is getting smaller, feeling appalled with himself that he even went through with this. Why did he even decide to get on a dating app in the first place? He suddenly wanted to get up and leave, pretending this never happened. He had never swiped on your profile when you came on his feed or messaged you back. Before Nanami can open his mouth to suggest the both of you head on home, you’re inquiring more about him.

“You said you like to bake, you like sweets?”

Nanami nodded his head, “Yes, I do.”

“What kind?”

“Cupcakes, pies, brownies…those are several I can think of off the top of my head.”

“Do you like living in the city?”

“I do, do you?”

“I love it, I want to do more exploring. I’m not from here.”

“Where are you from?”

“About several hours from the city.”

“What made you want to come to the city?”

“The beautiful city, I can’t do small towns like the one I’ve lived throughout my whole life. They’re boring and feel suffocating. Do you do a lot of exploring?”

Nanami shrugs his shoulders, “I mostly work.”

“Work? But don’t you get weekends off?”

“I do.”

“What do you do then?”

“Clean, cook, sometimes I’ll go for walks.”

“You and I should explore the city, get you out there more.”

Nanami feels his stomach flutter lightly, he cannot pinpoint why. You don’t look away from him, from the looks of it, you don’t seem nervous at all. He thinks back to what Gojo said, asking him if you were into older men.

“Are you attracted to…older guys?”

You take a sip from your drink, “No, I never imagined myself swiping on someone your age. To be honest…” You set your drink down and for the first time in the night, you seemed flustered, “I was hesitant on going through with this date.”

“I don’t take any offense,” Nanami reassures you, “I was very nervous, myself.”

You let out a soft chuckle, “Well, it’s good to hear that we’re both being cautious with this. Don’t worry, I’m not looking for a daddy or anything like that with this.”

Nanami looks down to hide his smile, “Noted.”

The rest of the date goes smoothly, the two of you eat your food and talk about other things that come naturally. Nanami likes that you’re talkative and that you ask a lot of questions. When it comes to paying for the meal, Nanami insists on paying for both of you, but you don’t accept it. In the end, the two of you end up splitting the bill. When it’s time to say goodbye, the two of you are outside of the restaurant. You have your coat on which you pull to wrap around yourself and Nanami can’t help but find this cute.

“It was a pleasure finally meeting you, Y/N.”

You smile at him, “You too, Nanami. I had a really good time, thank you for giving me such a sweet first date.”

Nanami feels his cheeks become warm at your comment, “Thank you for a good dinner and date as well.”

You tilt your head to the side, “I’ll message you, okay?”

Nanami nods his head, “Let me know when you get back to your place safely.”

You bite your bottom lip and look away as you ask him, “Can we hug?”

Nanami is surprised by your question, he responds with, “Yes, if you want to.”

“I do,” You stay in your place and realize just how stiff Nanami is. So you’re the first one to spread your arms and he finally steps towards you and wraps his arms around you. His arms get wrapped around your shoulders, your head coming up to his chest. Your arms are linked around his torso, and you’re engulfed in his cologne and scent. He smells fucking amazing, for a split moment, you think you’re seeing stars. The hug is brief but still cute. You notice the way Nanami seemed nervous hugging you whereas you gave his torso a light squeeze before the two of you stepped back.

“Talk to you later!” You call out to him as you make your way to the parking lot where Chloe is parked in their car waiting for you.

Nanami waves at you and sheepishly goes to where his car is parked as well and when he finally gets into his car, he covers his face with his hands hoping you didn’t notice the way his cheeks had become a flushed pink.

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specialagentsergio · 3 years

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all we can do is keep breathing || chapter two

summary: Spencer’s doing better, but recovery isn’t linear, and some scars run deeper than either of you knew.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: angst (eventual happy ending)

content warnings: swearing, drug abuse & addiction, substance use disorder, ptsd, descriptions of panic attacks/ptsd episodes, recollection of past bullying, unhealthy coping mechanisms, yelling/fighting, negative feelings towards other team members, body image issues

a/n: i was so taken aback by the response to chapter one--i didn’t think anyone would even read it tbh. thank you all and thanks for being patient with my lack of an upload schedule. i'm so sorry the word count is massive again. you get tummy appreciation, though, because 1) we all love spencer’s tummy, and 2) i personally gained weight when i was in residential treatment and it can be a bit of a mindfuck lol.

a/n 2: repeated disclaimer that i'm not a doctor, psychologist, psychiatrist, etc., just a direct care staff, past rtc patient and trauma recovery enthusiast. the horse therapy is pretty much entirely based on my own personal experience from nearly a decade ago, so don’t expect it to be an accurate portrayal of equine-assisted psychotherapy.

word count: 7.3k

song: you will be found from dear evan hansen

fic masterlist || masterlist

He’s been looking forward to the start of equine therapy since he got a spot in the program. But instead of being excited the morning of, Spencer ends up crying for an hour straight.

The day started off fine. It wasn’t hard to get up with the horses to look forward to, and he was able to get an extra plate at breakfast, so he could keep the pancake syrup from touching the eggs and sausage. Art therapy was a few hours later. He’d started to actually enjoy the pottery project—the recreational therapist had brought him a box of disposable gloves to use so the feeling of drying clay on his hands was no longer a problem.

Everyone’s projects were coming out of the kiln today and the next step was painting them. He’d been planning out the design and colors he wanted to use since the project started and was excited to finally start applying it.

Then he dropped his item, it broke into pieces, and he burst into tears.

He’d fled the room on instinct alone and curled up in a corner of the hallway, pressing his knees to his forehead. He was upset about the pottery, and upset that he was so affected by it breaking. He felt stupid and silly for crying over it, which only made him cry harder.

He heard distant laughter and he clapped his hands over his ears. He was being laughed at again for being a crybaby. He didn’t want to be a crybaby. He wanted to stop crying, he just couldn’t. The goalpost was cold against the bare skin of his back, and his wrists were starting to burn from the ties.

I want to go home. Just let me go home, please, I’ll do anything. Let me go, let me go--

“Spencer, it’s okay. You’re safe here. Can you repeat after me? I’m safe here.”

Safe here. Safe here.

Art therapy was over by the time he came out of it.

He has lunch at his therapist’s office instead of with the group. Lara asks what his flashback had been to.

He picks at his food. “It happened a long time ago. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alright. Can you tell me how it felt instead?”

Spencer isn’t really hungry, but bites into his sandwich to stall for time. She doesn’t rush him. Eventually, he asks, “Do you know what alexithymia means?”

“No words for feelings,” she replies.

He nods. “That’s all.”

Lara opens one of her desk drawers and pulls out a composition notebook, which she then hands to him.

“What’s this for?”

“I want you to start trying to notice your feelings and sensations throughout the day. Make some kind of note, even if you don’t exactly have the words to describe it.”

He sighs. “Why?”

“Just noticing what you feel can help you develop emotional regulation,” she explains. She’s always been honest with him about the why of what she wants him to try and do. “It’s going to help you stop ignoring what’s going on inside you.”

I don’t want to do that.

“I know you don’t.”

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he blurts. “That either. I—god.” He quickly takes another bite of food before he can say more.

“It’s fine. I didn’t expect you to like it,” Lara says with a small smile. “I’m sure the thought of confronting what you’ve been suppressing and avoiding is scary. But getting better requires you to do a lot of scary things.”

Spencer wants to protest. Being strapped to a chair in a shed and dosed against your will is scary. Your mother being diagnosed with Alzheimer's is scary. Being sent to prison for a crime you didn’t commit is scary. Feeling things? That’s not scary.

Isn’t it?

He tries not to think on it too much.

Despite the unpleasant thoughts running through his mind, Spencer finds himself nodding off on the van ride to the horse ranch. His eyes unfocus, his blink rate slows… and then he jerks back awake at the sensation of his head falling forward.

A frustrated noise escapes the back of his throat. He’s sick of feeling tired all the time. He’s getting enough sleep in theory, but still finds himself drowsy at least once a day. It’s to the point that he’s regularly wearing his glasses instead of his contacts to keep his eyes from feeling quite so dry. He pushes them back up now as he tries to tune back in to his surroundings.

“… don’t get how seeing some horse is supposed to make me feel better.” That’s Aiden’s voice. He’s Spencer’s new roommate. He wasn’t happy when he found out he was getting a new one, having much preferred having the room to himself, but it’s been okay so far, mostly because they keep out of each other’s way. Aiden seems uninterested in making friends, and that suits Spencer just fine. Lara’s been encouraging him to talk to fellow patients instead of just the direct care staff, but he’s resisted it. The last time he befriended someone, they ended up--

Spencer’s fine with the two of them keeping to themselves.

Melanie, one of the staff accompanying them, is leaned over the back of the middle seat as she talks to Aiden. “Well, I couldn’t tell you why exactly, but I’ve seen this program help a lot of people in my time here,” she says. “Spencer?”

“What?”

“You’ve been reading a lot about horses, right?” At his nod, she continues, “What have you found out?”

“Equine-assisted psychotherapy lacks the rigorous scientific evidence to demonstrate if it provides benefits in mental health treatment. Horses have been used to aid in psychiatric treatment since the 1990’s, though,” he says. He intends to stop there, but can’t stop himself from continuing. “It doesn’t necessarily involve riding, but may include grooming, feeding, and ground exercises. The goal is to help the client in social, emotional, cognitive, and or behavioral ways.”

He can feel Aiden’s eyes on him and takes a breath before meeting them. He knows all too well that his infodumps aren’t always well received. He doesn’t want to be friends, but would prefer for his roommate to not view him with disdain or annoyance. But Aiden looks interested, and says as much--”that’s interesting.” He looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t, and there’s silence between them for the remainder of the drive. It’s not uncomfortable, though.

When the van pulls into a parking spot and everyone starts to get out, Spencer begins to feel nervous. He’s read everything he could get his hands on, but as a relatively new therapy, there’s no standard program; it varies by facility, so he doesn’t know exactly what to expect. He’s been looking forward to this, but what if it turns out to be a bad fit for him? What if the people here don’t like him? What if the horses don’t like him?

He hangs at the back of their group of ten—six patients and two staff—as they’re led to a shaded area. They’re introduced to the program director and assistants, and are given an overview of what they’ll be doing over the next six weeks. They won’t be riding the horses, just doing groundwork (he’s not sure if he feels relieved or disappointed). Then he learns that intention of this specific program isn’t just for the horses to help the clients—the clients are to help the horses as well. The animals all have the gentle temperaments suited for therapy, but also have their own struggles. A lot of them were adopted out of poor situations.

They’re led to a circular corral next and spaced equidistantly around the edge. Spencer’s heart rate picks up as the horses are brought in—the animals will be picking their therapy partner, the director says. As they’re let off their leads a jolt of anxiety runs through his body, making him twitch slightly. This feels uncomfortably familiar to school P.E. when teams were picked. No one wanted him then. What’s gong to happen if none of the horses want him, either? He looks down at his shoes.

But just a few moments later, he hears his name, and looks up to see one of the horses approaching him. “Looks like you and Chance are our first pair,” the director is saying.

First?

Chance is almost entirely black, save for a spot of white between his eyes and above his nose. His size is a little intimidating, but his demeanor is gentle. One of the assistants comes up to Spencer and instructs him to hold out his hand so the horse can sniff it.

His hand trembles slightly as he lifts it. Warm breath hits his fingers as Chance sniffs at it. Then the horse presses his nose completely against his hand. The moistness would usually bother Spencer, but for some reason it doesn’t. Instead, a smile slowly spreads across his face. The assistant tells him he can pet Chance now. He runs his hand up and down the horse’s snout, and despite the slight coarseness of the hair, finds it soothing.

The horse shuffles closer when Spencer is given his lead to hold. A startled laugh escapes him when Chance presses his nose into his neck. He pats his head a few times, then takes a tiny step back. He’s thrilled that at least one of the horses likes him, but feels a little crowded by the large animal. To his surprise, Chance seems to understand, and takes a step back of his own.

He absently pats his horse as he watches the rest of the group pair up. He still can’t believe he was picked first.

The rest of their time with the horses is very simple. They’re taught how to lead them, and after practicing in the corral, they take the horses back to their paddocks. Spencer’s disappointed to say goodbye already, but understands the need to not overwhelm the horses or even themselves. “I’ll see you next week,” he finds himself whispering to Chance.

There’s ten minutes left in the session, and it’s spent with the director telling them more about each horses’ specific background. Chance was poorly treated by his previous owner, mostly kept locked up in a small barn and not properly cared for. He has many talents and abilities, the director says. He needs to learn that he didn’t deserve to be treated the way he was, and be told that he is brave.

Spencer rests his chin in his hand and stares out the window on the drive back to the treatment center. He knows from his reading that horses are emotionally intelligent creatures, but he’s still… well, amazed by how the horses all picked who was most similar to them out of the group instinctively.

He feels more understood by an animal he’s interacted with for twenty minutes than he has by a person for months.

Before bed that night, he chews on the stem of his pen cap, thinking over the events of his day. Slowly, in a manner that could almost be described as cautious, he picks up the empty composition book Lara gave him and opens it. His hand hovers over the blank page for a few moments, then he puts pen on paper and begins to write.

---

You made dinner reservations for his visit this Saturday. You’re getting ready for it when there’s a knock on the front door.

“I’ll get it,” Spencer calls from the living room.

You return to fixing your hair up. You’re not expecting anyone, so it’s probably just a package or a neighbor. But just a few moments later, you hear Spencer raise his voice.

“No! No, I don’t—don’t touch me, please.”

You’re only half dressed, but hurry out to the living room anyways. When you round the corner, you immediately see what the problem is: JJ has dropped by unexpectedly.

It’s not that Spencer doesn’t want to see his team. They just bring memories with them, and he had decided shortly after his birthday that he wasn’t ready to confront that yet.

He’s standing a little ways back from the door, staring at JJ while she looks back with hurt on her face. “Spence--” she starts before she sees you.

At Spencer’s side, you place a hand on his arm and he takes a step behind you. “JJ, what are you doing here?”

She struggles to keep her eyes off of him as she answers. “(Y/N), I’m sorry, I just—Will and I made cookies with the boys today and we had a lot of extra, so I just wanted to drop some off for you. I—I didn’t know Spence was here. I didn’t mean to--”

You hold up a hand to stop her. “It’s okay, JJ. You couldn’t have known. You were just trying to do something nice.”

She nods, relieved at your understanding. “Yeah. Yeah, I….” She blows out a breath, then holds out a plastic wrapped plate of cookies to you. You take it from her with a quiet thank you. Then she looks back to the man that’s essentially hiding behind you as best as he can, despite how tall he is. “Spence, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you wouldn’t want me to touch you.”

There’s a tug on your clothing as he curls his fingers into the fabric on the small of your back. You tilt your head to look at him, but his gaze is on the floor. “You…” he glances up once, then looks back down. “You should ask next time,” he says quietly.

“Okay,” she replies, just as softly. “I will.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheeks to hold back a smile. Spencer often struggles to advocate for his needs, especially with his friends and colleagues, in fear of being a burden or more of a nuisance than he thinks others already perceive him as. He did it a lot with you when you first started dating. It took a lot of time and reassurance that yes, you really did want to know his wants and needs, for him to open up. Telling JJ to ask before touching him may seem small from the outside, but it’s a big deal for him.

After a rather awkward silence, JJ speaks again. “Well, um, I should get going. Just… let us know if you need anything, okay, Spence? We—the team, we’re all here for you.”

“That’s rich,” Spencer mutters behind you and you freeze. You recognize that edge to his voice. It’s usually accompanied by sharp words and remarks that he’ll regret later.

Please please please tell me JJ didn’t hear that.

“I’m sorry?”

Fuck.

“I hate to rush you out, JJ, but we have dinner reservations, so--” you try to interject but Spencer speaks over you.

“I’m just saying, why should I believe you’re here for me when you weren’t last time?”

JJ’s eyebrows come together. “I… don’t understand, I’ve always--”

“No, you haven’t!” It’s like Spencer can’t get the words out fast enough, the way he keeps interrupting before either of you can finish a sentence. This is clearly something that’s been weighing on him. You just wish he was unloading it onto his therapist rather than poor JJ, his best friend outside of you, who’s just trying to be nice. “Ten years ago I was shooting up in police station bathrooms and Emily is the only one who said a damn thing.”

His grip on your clothes tightens, forcing you to take a step back. You move the plate of cookies to one hand and reach back with the other, circling it around his wrist. “Spencer.”

Realization dawns on JJ’s face and she crosses her arms. “Spence, I couldn’t--”

“You couldn’t.” The little laugh he lets out derisive. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

You don’t know where all this is coming from or what he’s referring to, but JJ does, her expression hardening.

“You know what would have happened if the higher ups found out,” she says. “I was protecting your job. We all were.”

“You shouldn’t have!” he cries, emotions other than anger seeping into the words. “This damn job is one of the worst things that’s ever happened to me! I got anthrax poisoning, I still have issues with my knee from being shot. I nearly died from a shot in the neck, and let’s not forget, I was framed for murder by a psychopath I arrested, who then kidnapped my mother while I was in prison! Oh, and what else? Oh right, this job is the reason I’m a fucking addict in the first place!”

JJ’s clearly trying to hold back tears now, but one slips out and your heart aches for her. You close your eyes briefly and take a deep breath, then speak quietly but firmly. “Spencer, you need to leave the room.”

You can hear him breathing shakily behind you. “(Y/N)--”

“Now.” You squeeze his wrist and he finally lets go of your clothing. He takes a few steps away, stops, turns back and opens his mouth to say something, but at the look you give him, shuts it and continues on his way out.

A sniffle draws your attention back to JJ, who’s looking up at the ceiling and swiping at the tears sliding down. “Sorry,” she mutters. “I shouldn’t have come by without giving you a heads-up. I’ve just made things worse.”

“No, JJ, don’t be sorry. It--” There’s thumping noises from further back in the apartment so you step forward and shut the front door behind you. She has her arms wrapped around herself when you turn back.

“It’s not your fault,” you continue. “You were just trying to be nice. You’re a good friend to him. He’s just… everything is really raw for him right now, if that makes sense?”

She nods, wiping at her eyes again.

“It’s, uh, not an excuse, though,” you clarify. “That’s not what I’m trying to say. You didn’t do anything wrong. That was all him, so please don’t blame yourself.”

JJ is quiet for a bit, staring at the floor. Then she says, “I should get going.”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” you agree quietly. Realizing you’re still holding the plate of cookies in one hand, you lift it slightly and add, “Thanks for these. And, um… I’m so sorry about that.”

She shakes her head and glances at the door. “Don’t be. Like you said, it was all him,” she murmurs.

You know she’s right, but you’re still barely able to stop yourself from apologizing again as she descends the stairs. You can’t help but feel like you should have done more, stopped him somehow, even though you don’t know how you could have. The way his behavior changed… it was like he wanted to get it all out, and when Spencer Reid wants to say something, it’s nearly impossible to get him to stop.

The apartment isn’t quiet when you walk back in. There’s the scraping and clatter of a desk drawer, followed by frantic footsteps and the thud of books falling off the shelves. You know what he’s doing, and you know he won’t find anything, so you just lock the front door and continue on to the kitchen to put the cookies away.

You lean on the counter and cover your face with your hands. It doesn’t matter if you mess up your hair or face, or anything, really, because you’re not making it to dinner anymore.

You stay like that for a while, eyes closed, trying to think of a place to even start with Spencer after all of that. When the sounds of him tearing through the apartment stop, you lift you head back up and promptly jump—he’s staring at you from the nearest doorway.

“Jesus, Spencer--”

“Where’s my stuff?” he asks, and the seriousness in his tone of voice makes your anxiety spike. You know exactly what he means by stuff.

“It’s gone. What did you think was gonna happen?”

“Yeah, but it’s…” he trails off and his expression puzzles you. It almost looks like he’s confused. “It’s all gone.”

Ah. “Yeah, well, I know you think you’re sneaky, but you’re very much the opposite when you’re not sober,” you reply. “Finding your hiding spots wasn’t hard.”

He drops his gaze to the floor, frowning. “I don’t like it when you move my things,” he says quietly.

“I don’t like it when you use,” you counter.

He visibly flinches, then his hand tightens on the door frame. “I’m not going to—to take it, I just want to hold it. Where’s my stuff?” he repeats.

“Holding it, right,” you sigh.

“It’s comforting,” he argues.

“Even if I believed that, it wouldn’t matter, Spencer. I threw it all out. There’s none here.”

The humming noise he makes is angry, and he rocks back and forth on his feet in an agitated manner. “You shouldn’t… I don’t….”

I don’t have the energy for this. It’s a thought you feel terrible about as soon as you have it, but it’s the truth. Lara had cautioned you before his first visit that he was going to be hypersensitive to disappointment and frustration until he learned how to cope with the feelings he’d been using the Dilaudid to block out. Unfortunately, the information, while useful, didn’t always make his emotional extremes easier to deal with.

You run a hand down your face. “Spencer…” you start. You’re not sure what to continue with, but you don’t have to—for whatever reason, that sets him off.

He tears his eyes away from the floor to glare at you. “Don’t—don’t touch my things ever again!” Then he turns and all but runs to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

You suck in a breath and drop your head to the counter. The marble is cool and you thump your forehead against it gently a few times, focusing on breathing in and out slowly to calm down. When you’re ready, you walk as quietly as you can to the bedroom door and press your ear against it to hear the unmistakable sound of Spencer sobbing into his pillow.

Part of you wants to go in and comfort him, but you suspect that you’d just make it worse right now since some of his frustration is directed at you. And truth be told, you’re frustrated with him, too. So you retreat to the living room, flopping down on the couch and pulling out your phone to call the restaurant to cancel your reservations. Doing so is more upsetting than you expected; a few tears of your own slide down your face after you hang up. Before you know it, you’re calling Tara.

“Hey, what’s up?” she asks you.

“I…” You swallow down the lump in your throat. “Spencer’s… we’re having a bad day. If you’re not busy, can I talk to you about it?”

“Of course,” is her gentle reply, and you pull yourself to your feet, moving to the farthest point away from the bedroom in the apartment so Spencer won’t overhear.

“He got angry when you told him you got rid of everything?” she guesses when you reach that part.

“Yeah. He told me that he doesn’t like it when I move his things. I already knew that; that’s why everything else is where he left it. I think he was mostly just caught off guard that I knew all his hiding places.”

“If he’s having a trauma response to seeing JJ, he’s not going to be thinking clearly, either,” Tara points out. “I wasn’t there, so I could be wrong, but from what you’ve said, it sounds like she was some sort of trigger for him.”

“That’s more than a fair assessment. It’s just… confusing,” you say. “He wasn’t like this with her when he first got home from prison. He actually spent a lot of time at JJ’s house before his relapse. He’d go over and hold Michael when he couldn’t sleep. Why is seeing his best friend suddenly such a bad thing?”

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t have to make sense to us. It only has to make sense to the traumatized part of the brain,” she explains. “He may not even know why himself.”

“Hmm.” You ponder it for a moment. “I think I’d find that interesting if I wasn’t living it.”

Tara laughs out loud at that. “Yeah, I’ve found that to be rather commonplace sentiment in the field of psychology.”

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling calmer. “Thanks for listening,” you say. “I feel better now.”

“Anytime, (Y/N).”

You exchange goodbyes, making plans to catch up properly over lunch next week. You hang up, then tiptoe back to the bedroom door. It’s quiet now; Spencer seems to have stopped crying. You knock softly. “Honey? Can I come in?”

When he doesn’t respond, you try the door handle. It’s unlocked, which is a good sign—he’s upset, but not upset enough to completely shut you out. You open the door just enough to look in.

Spencer’s on the bed as expected, huddled under his weighted blanket. His back is to the door and you see his shoulders shuddering in the little breaths that follow him crying. In your experience, he usually seeks out comfort before this stage, often having the breakdown itself in your arms or stumbling into them halfway through. This is a bit of uncharted territory. You know that after outbursts of negative emotions, he tends to need reassurance and touch from someone to help him decompress and feel better. You just don’t know if that’s going to hold true for this kind of reaction. A trauma response, Tara called it. You hope it will, because you don’t know what else to do.

“I’m going to come in now,” you tell him before taking a step inside. You leave the door open behind you so he won’t feel trapped, then slowly approach him, looking out for signs that he doesn’t want you near—tensing muscles, slight rocking, shaking his head—but he stays still.

Once you sit down on the edge of the bed you can see his face. His eyes are puffy and his cheeks are red and raw from wiping away tears. A few are still slipping out, sliding sideways down his face and dropping onto the wet patch on his pillowcase as he stares blankly at the wall across the room.

Hesitantly, you reach out and touch his arm as lightly as you can. He takes in a deep breath, but does nothing to suggest that he wants you to remove it. After a few moments to ensure that he’s okay with touch, you start running your hand up and down his back. He whimpers a little in response, closing his eyes and titling back into your touch.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

You don’t get a straightforward answer. He chews on his bottom lip for a bit before speaking in a scratchy voice. “Can you…?” he mumbles, lifting his head up slightly from the pillow, then dropping it back down. You don’t know what he’s asking for until you see some of his fingers poking out from under the blanket and the stroking motion they’re making.

You maneuver across the mattress to sit against the headboard, jostling him as little as you can, and he shifts to place his head in your lap. When you start carding your fingers through his hair, his eyes flutter closed and he lets out a little sigh.

“What’s going on?” you ask once the tension has faded and his body has settled fully into the mattress. He just shrugs and you press your lips together to hold back a sigh. You’re familiar with him going nonverbal and you know that he can’t help it, but it’s discouraging. One of the main things he’s been working on is being more open about his emotions. It’s been a welcome change to not have to pry things out of him. But he seems to have gone right back to old habits tonight and it’s… well, it’s disappointing.

The silence carries on for a long time as you continue to run your hands through his hair. He’s so still and relaxed that you think he may have fallen asleep until he takes in a deep, shuddering breath and clears his throat. “I… I want to go back,” he whispers.

“Back whe--” you start, then your heart drops as you realize what he means. “Oh.”

Your hands fall to your lap as he sits up and clambers out of bed, muttering, “gonna get changed.” He shuts the bathroom door behind him—for whatever reason, he’s not always comfortable with you seeing him changing or in the shower anymore—and you sit still for a few moments, processing what he just said. After over a month of listening to him express his desire to come home—begging you, even, in the beginning—you were unprepared to hear the opposite.

You shake your head slightly to try and clear it, then follow his lead, leaving the bed and changing out of your fancy clothes, trying not to think about how much you had been looking forward to wearing them to the restaurant.

Spencer remains quiet for the drive back to his treatment center, staring out the passenger side window, legs pulled into his chest. He mumbles a quick “bye” to you when you check him back in—no hug or kiss on the cheek like you’ve grown accustomed to. Instead he turns right back to the nurse and staff member running the process and asks, “Is Matt working tonight? I need to talk to him.”

At least he wants to talk to someone, you tell yourself as you leave, trying to soothe the sting caused by the fact that the someone isn’t you.

---

The next time you see him is six days later, on Friday evening. You’ve only talked once since Saturday, over the phone on Wednesday night, and it wasn’t a long call. He was upset about the horse therapy appointment being canceled that afternoon because of the weather—it had rained hard all day—and didn’t say much else. He ended the call before the ten minute mark, saying that he was tired and wanted to go lie down.

He also didn’t request a visit for the weekend—he either didn’t think his treatment team would approve it or he just didn’t want one. So you’re visiting him at the center today. You’ve brought dinner with you—you cooked one of his favorites yourself—but before you eat, you’re having an appointment with him and his therapist.

Spencer glances up only briefly when you enter the office, quickly looking back down. One of his knees is bouncing.

You sit down on the other side of the couch, looking between him and Lara in the chair across from you. “So, um, what’s going on?” you ask.

Spencer looks to Lara and she gives him an encouraging nod. He takes in a deep breath before speaking. “I… I wanted to talk to you about what ha—happened last week,” he says quietly, keeping his gaze on his lap.

You don’t know why exactly he wants to do it here, with his therapist, but wanting to talk about it at all is a good sign.. “Okay. I’m listening.”

“Right, um. Seeing… seeing JJ, it--” he stops abruptly, and his hands tremble slightly as he runs them down his thighs. “Sorry, doing… doing this is making me really anxious.”

“Take your time,” Lara says and you nod in agreement.

“Okay.” He runs his hands through his hair a few times before continuing. “Se—seeing her brought up emotions and, and memories I wasn’t ready to, um, confront. It… it really tri—triggered me.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” you say quietly.

Spencer grimaces at the words. He lifts his hand, puts it back down, then lifts it again and rubs at one of his eyes. “I…” he starts, then fixes his gaze on the floor and goes silent.

“(Y/N).” You tear your eyes from him and look at Lara. “Is there anything you’d like to say to Spencer about Saturday? Maybe what it was like for you?”

“Oh. Um.” You chew on your bottom lip for a moment. You’ve worried about how what you say could effect him since his relapse—one of your biggest fears is saying something that would drive him to use. But it’s stressful to keep up with, and with his therapist is probably the best place to start ridding yourself of your new habit of… well, of walking on eggshells around him.

“I think it would be good for him to know,” Lara says.

“Alright.” You lace your fingers together in your lap. “I guess it was just… startling to me. JJ’s your best friend and you’ve never acted that way to her. Or anyone, really, other than your father.”

Spencer stays silent, but flinches at the mention of his dad.

“Do you have anything to say to that?” Lara prompts. He shakes his head, so she looks back to you. “How did seeing Spencer like that make you feel?”

You take in a deep breath and let it out slowly; you’re a little scared to say, not wanting to make him feel worse. “It was… distressing. Especially when he got mad at me for getting rid of his Dilaudid. I know he doesn’t like having his things touched without permission but I don’t think it was reasonable to expect that I wouldn’t have done that.”

Lara nods. “That makes sense. But our feelings aren’t always logical.”

“Yeah, I understand. I guess I just wish he would have told me what was wrong instead of being silent--”

Spencer finally speaks up then, in protest. “I couldn’t help it!”

“I—I know that,” you argue back. “I just—I’m just telling you how I felt.”

He looks away, folding his arms and sinking further into the couch.

“Spencer,” Lara says gently. “You wanted to know how (Y/N) felt, remember? And we talked about how you were probably going to hear things you wouldn’t like.”

You blink, taken aback that this was his idea. And with that comes the realization of just how long it’s been since he’s asked how you’re feeling. Thinking back, you realize that the last time you had a conversation that wasn’t only focused on his feelings and well-being was the day you found him asleep and tied to his mother. This… it’s Spencer before prison.

You’re drawn out of your thoughts by him sighing and muttering, “Yeah, I remember.”

“Alright. Anything else?” Lara asks you.

There’s a lot else, you’re discovering, but you’re not sure you can unpack it all right now. “Maybe…” you say. “Maybe he could just tell me what I can do to help when he’s… triggered?”

“I don’t know,” he says dully, and when he catches the small frown on your face, insists, “I don’t.”

“Yet,” Lara adds.

He sighs again. “Yet,” he repeats.

“I know it’s frustrating,” she says. “Your solution to these kinds of feelings before was denial or using. A solution, not just a problem,” she emphasizes. “I want you both to try and think of it like that, and get comfortable with the fact that it’s going to take awhile to overcome those habits.”

A solution, not a problem. It’s… weird to think of his addiction that way, but you can try, so you give her a nod.

“Yeah, yeah,” Spencer mumbles. But behind the defensive body language, he just seems tired.

He seems to relax a little when the meeting wraps up and it’s only the two of you in one of the rooms used for visits. He remains quiet, but when you place the plate of food you dish him across the table from yours, he slides it back and sits in the chair beside you. “Sorry,” he whispers as soon as you take a bite of food.

“For what?” you ask once you’ve swallowed.

“For yelling at you on Saturday,” he says quietly. “I was upset but I shouldn’t have yelled.”

His leg is bouncing under the table; you put your hand on his knee to still it. “Apology accepted,” you say softly.

He shakes his head slightly. “You don’t have to. I was awful to you on Saturday.”

You frown at his skewed interpretation of events. “Spencer, you really weren’t. You yelled at me, yes, but other than that, you were fine.” And you’ve said much worse when you’ve been high.

“I ruined dinner. And don’t say it’s not a big deal,” he adds before you can speak. “You mentioned it every time we spoke in the week leading up to it. You were really excited about it, and I ruined it.”

Spencer’s read you like a book—that was exactly what you were going to say. “Yeah, I was really looking forward to it,” you admit. “And it sucked to have to cancel the reservations. But there will be other dinners, and it’s not like you did it on purpose.”

“But what if I did?” His voice is so quiet that you wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t right next to you.

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean…” he rocks slightly in his seat, which you immediately recognize as one of his self-soothing behaviors. You move your hand from his knee to his hair, lightly running your fingers through the curls covering the nape of his neck to try and help. His head tilts forward a little at your touch and after a brief silence, he continues. “I just mean that self-sabotage wouldn’t exactly be something new for me.”

“Oh.” You take your time considering it; he won’t believe you if you give in to your knee-jerk reaction to protest the negative feelings he harbors towards himself. But he grows agitated at your silence, rocking a bit harder and rubbing at his eye. You tug his hair lightly without really thinking about it in response.

“I’m just thinking,” you assure. “You deserve an honest, thought-out answer.”

After taking a deep breath, he nods. “Okay. I understand. Maybe you could just, uh… to help c--comfort…” He swallows and his voice drops back to a whisper. “Could you do that again?”

“Do what?”

“Um, pull… pull my hair. You did that a few moments ago. Please?”

You almost want to tease him—a year ago, you would have. But he’s been so timid and unsure when asking for any intimate touch other than cuddling since he got back from prison. You don’t want to discourage him from asking any more than he seems to be discouraging himself.

“Of course, baby,” you answer softly, and do just that. He closes his eyes and drops his head onto your shoulder. “As far as the self-sabotaging goes, you’re… not good at lying to me,” you muse. “And after six years with you, I feel like I’m pretty familiar with all the ways Spencer Reid self-sabotages. This never even crossed my mind until you brought it up, so I don’t see that as being what happened.”

You can’t tell if he believes you. A neutral “okay” is all you get from him, but at least he’s not outright disagreeing.

You gently pull his hair a few more times. “You should eat before it gets cold and we have to heat it up again.”

He takes the suggestion, picking his fork up, but you’ve never seen him less enthused about eating one of his favorite foods. He’s only cleared half of his plate when you’re done with all of yours.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

You can’t help but sigh at the habitual response, and consider your next words carefully. “Spencer, I don’t mean to be pushy, but you told me you were working on not dismissing people’s concern for you when they express it.”

“I am,” he mutters, but doesn’t say anything else, just continues to push his food around his plate aimlessly.

“Well, is something wrong with the food?” you ask. “Did I get the texture wrong, or--”

“No, no,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “It’s not the food. The food’s great. It’s… it’s me that’s the problem.”

Your eyebrows come together. “I don’t understand.”

“I…” He starts to blush. “I’m not eating it all because I think I need to lose some weight.”

“Don’t you dare,” you say immediately without thinking. He makes a startled noise at the same time you clap your hand over your mouth. You definitely don’t want him to lose weight, you just hadn’t meant for it to come out like that.

On the day he came home and agreed to treatment, you’d seen just how underweight he’d become as you helped him unbutton his shirt. The stark outline of his ribs against his skin had been scary, and you had no desire to see that again. It was a relief when he started to gain back what he’d lost in prison and afterwards. And you were happy to see him continue to put on even more than that.

You clear your throat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that. You were just so skinny when you got here. You look good like this.”

“I’ve never weighed this much before,” he says, and the distress in his tone makes you think that this is a fact that has been bothering him for a while. “Some of my clothes are getting too tight.”

“We can buy you new clothes.”

“But we don’t know how much longer the insurance will cover my stay here. Residential treatment is expensive. We don’t need to be spending extra money on clothes when I could just lose the weight instead and not need them.”

“Hey.” You put your hand on his cheek. “I don’t want you to worry about money. The insurance is covering it for now. If they stop, that’s a problem to deal with when we get there. Just focus on getting better.”

He looks away from you, down to his lap. “I should still lose some weight,” he says eventually.

“Have you medical staff told you that?” you inquire, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” he admits with a sigh.

“Then you’re not allowed to worry about it,” you say firmly. “Finish your dinner.”

Spencer hesitates, but picks his fork back up. The corners of his mouth turn up just slightly when he starts eating again, telling you that despite his fretting, he’s happy not to stop himself from eating as much as he wants.

He seems to be in a much better mood at the end of the evening than he was when you arrived, though a bit more subdued and quieter than normal. He also appears to be very tired. It’s only 7:30 but he keeps yawning. He denies dozing off with his head on your shoulder while you were talking after dinner, but you’re sure he did.

During your parting hug, he nestles his face into your neck just like he always does when you’re sleeping in bed together. “Try and get some good sleep tonight,” you encourage, smoothing your hands down his back. “And Spencer?”

He pulls back to look at you and you settle your hands lightly on his waist. “I meant it, you know.” You squeeze slightly. “When I said you look good like this.”

It takes him a few moments to catch onto what you’re implying; when he does, his eyebrows shoot up and his breath catches. “Oh. O—okay. I’ll, um…” he glances down shyly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You better.” You look over your shoulder as you leave, and the small smile he’s wearing prompts one of your own.

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

tell me what you thought here!

i'd like to put it out there that i don’t hate jj and i really hope it didn’t come across like that. i hadn’t even planned that scene; it just wrote itself. i promise it’ll be resolved before the end of this fic.

another shoutout to the book The Body Keeps the Score for helping immensely with the planning and writing of this. i literally have pages of notes from it.

you can also find irl pictures of spencer’s therapy horse here.

all we can do taglist: @thatsonezesty13 , @jhillio , @elitereid

general taglist: @calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid #angst #my fic #tw substances #one day i'll write something that's short

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jimalim · 3 years

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Leatin Fic Rec Friday! #4

It’s been a full month since my first rec post, and the support on this venture has been so nice! Please keep it up cause we’ve still got so many amazing Leatin fics to get to! Check out weeks: 1 2 3 here

Panic by postersonthewall

Words: 1,761 Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Not Rated Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Favorite Tag: soft Fatin Summary: Leah suffers a stream of never ending panic attacks in the facility post-rescue. The doctors have tried everything and come to the conclusion that Fatin may be the only person able to help calm down the distressed girl. What I personally love about this fic: Leah’s despair is so incredibly well written that it physically pains me every time I read it. That feeling of relief when Fatin and Leah are reunited is so palpable. It’s a very tender moment, Fatin is so so soft with her. Beautiful!

(Please Don't) Love Me Back by lostresidentevilpotter

Words: 9,602 Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Not Rated Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Favorite Tag: N/A Summary: Leah spares one last glance down at Fatin, tries not to think about how she spent hours (hours!) wrapped around a girl she barely knew existed (a girl who definitely didn’t know Leah existed) three weeks ago. And at the same time, Leah can’t imagine being on this island without Fatin. Snapshots of Leah and Fatin’s relationship. What they were. What they could be. What I personally love about this fic: A beautiful collections of mini scenes that show the progression of their relationship. It’s a really nice companion piece to canon, and I really enjoy how it skips around in the timeline. My favorite moment is the “give me my leg back” line, such fun and cute banter!

say it by leahsfatin

Words: 1,791 Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Not Rated Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Favorite Tag: N/A Summary: Leah and Fatin are sent to get water for the rest of the group, but return later than usual after being a little sidetracked. What I personally love about this fic: Who doesn’t love some mutual flirting? Leah runs her mouth telling Fatin all these things she loves about her and it’s very sweet!

my life would suck without you (a la kelly clarkson) by beepbedeep

Words: 923 Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Favorite Tags: do you ever just think abouthow much sandwould get in your hair??if you had to SLEEP ON THE BEACHTHAT'S RAW HAIRAND RAW SANDno thank you!!!! Summary: Fatin’s face has been getting closer and closer lately, breath against her cheek to say something that doesn’t need to be whispered, her hair caught in Leah’s mouth, a smile bright in the dark. What I personally love about this fic: I really like the breakdown format in this fic. It’s unlike anything I’ve read before. Separating paragraphs into these sections labeled “a dream” “a realization” etc. is a very cool way to categorize things! I love how the final line calls back to the opening thought!

I’m fine with my spite (and my tears) by passwordfuckingpassword

Words: 746 Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Not Rated Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Favorite Tag: SOFT GAYS Summary: Fatin is never been one to cry. She was never really allowed. " You can't show no weakness fatin." that's what her mother always says.so why the fuck is she, Fatin Jadmani, full on sobbing. What I personally love about this fic: As the tag said, soft gays! lol Leah rushing through “doyoumaybewantmetoholdyoustillyousleep” is so freaking cute!!

#leatin #the wilds #leah rilke #fatin jadmani #fatin x leah #fic rec

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ao3feed-dadzawa · 3 years

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Little Soft Paws Patter Across Your Back

Little Soft Paws Patter Across Your Back by RossBlood

Many people had soulmarks, special tattoo-like drawings that were exceptionally precious to them. There was the parental mark and the child mark. The former was always accompanied by things called "signifiers" to denote the number of children they had, usually only one or two. But never before had Shouta heard of someone receiving their parental mark and twenty signifiers to go along with it.

Or...

Aizawa Shouta and how he became a father to twenty-one kids.

[Updates Wednesdays.]

Words: 1394, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Class 1-A, Shinsou Hitoshi, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Kayama Nemuri | Midnight, Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki, Eri

Additional Tags: Parental soulmarks, Parental Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Dadzawa, Class 1-A as Family, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead Training Shinsou Hitoshi, Shinsou Hitoshi is not in Class 1-A, Mineta Minoru is Expelled from U.A. High School, eventually, Vignette, Sort Of, it's very fragmented, Crying, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a smidge of angst, but it's fine, My Hero Academia: Vigilantes Chapter 64: Shouta Spoilers, didn't know that tag existed but hooray, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead-centric, all of my fics are lol

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33340174

#AO3 Feed #FanFiction #AO3 Dadzawa #♦#Aizawa Shouta #Hitoshi Shinsou #Eri #R:G #A:Ross #Dadzawa #Fluff

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elizabeethan · 3 years

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Spaces Between Us Chapter 6: History

The hardships of real life separated them six years ago, and Emma has been struggling to put that fact behind her ever since. But then, only after she’s convinced herself that she’s moved on and that her new life is enough, Killian Jones comes back.

A Captain Swan Modern AU

***Brief mentions of past physical and emotional abuse and alcohol abuse. Brief mentions of death/loss/grief.***

Reminder that more tags will apply to later chapters and i’ll put warnings where they're necessary, but if you have any concerns or questions feel free to message me!

Weekly updates will be on Tuesdays! (probably)

This chapter is dedicated to AnaSmallGrace because they guessed the title/chapter titles correctly lol.

Thank you, as usual, to my beta and friend @the-darkdragonfly, and to @donteattheappleshook and @xhookswenchx for listening to my ramblings and helping me figure out the plot to this <3

Read the Rest

Read on Ao3

Read my Other Stuff

If you want me to add you to or remove you from my tag list please let me know!

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor

~~~~

She didn’t mean to fall asleep, but when she stirs at the feeling of soft lips pressing damp kisses down her spine, meeting each vertebrae as his fingers tickle against her ribs, she realizes she hasn’t slept this soundly in years. He murmurs, “good morning,” against her skin and she groans in response.

“More sleep,” she whines into the plush pillow.

“What time do you need to pick up Henry?”

She presses up onto her elbows with a start, frantically looking around the room for some indication as to what time it is. “12:30,” she tells him, looking back with wide, anxious eyes.

He smiles and says, “worry not, love. It’s only just after 10.” He slides up along her body until he can lie beside her and smooth out her hair, kissing her nose gently. “I just wanted to make sure you’d have enough time.”

Breathing out a sigh of relief, she nods and collapses back down on the bed, her face pressed into the pillow. She isn’t sure when they ended up beneath the blankets, but she fell asleep so quickly that she’s sure he could’ve easily moved her without her noticing. “Okay,” she sighs. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asks with a smirk, and she returns it in kind, rolling onto her side so that she’s facing him and able to see the brilliance in his eyes.

“A few things, I guess,” she starts. “Waking me up, making me come so hard that I basically passed out… loving me…” She trails off but can easily see that her point is well taken.

He’s silent for a beat, appearing to be entranced by her words as he gently traces his fingers along her temple and down her cheek, across her neck until he reaches her shoulder and cups it with his hand. “I know we said that we would talk about this later, but… Well, I don’t intend to let you go again, Emma.”

She feels tears pricking at the backs of her eyes and she blinks hard, trying to hold them in. But for the second time today, she isn’t crying because she’s scared or in pain or hopelessly depressed. It’s because she believes him. She trusts him and knows that he means what he says wholeheartedly.

So she curls further onto her side, snuggling close to him and pressing her bare body to his as he wraps his arms around her and holds her in a warm, comforting embrace. She isn’t sure what she can say about the position they’ve found themselves in. It’s not as if she can leave her husband now, despite how she might want to, because she knows what he’s capable of. She thinks that now that they’ve had the conversation about Henry, he’s even more likely to use that against her and keep him from her if she were to try and leave him. And no matter how she feels about Walsh or Killian or even herself, Henry will always be her first priority.

Killian seems to be able to read her shift in mood, so he gently suggests, “let me make you breakfast. If the way your stomach was screaming in your sleep is any indication, I’d assume you haven’t eaten yet today.”

She sighs, laughing just a bit, and nods against his chest, feeling his coarse hair tickling her cheek. “Don’t you have to go to work?”

“Not until 1.”

With a contented hum, she smiles up at him and playfully says, “plenty of time to get your story straight. Ruby warned me that she’d be bothering you all night for details.”

“Details… bloody hell, woman, tell me you didn’t go to Ruby for my address.”

She giggles as his fingers brush along her waist, trailing from her hip to her ribs and back down again. “I needed the damn train!”

“Aye, the damn train,” he says with feigned irritation as he kisses the tip of her nose. “Heaven forbid the lad is without his train for a few hours,” he jokes.

“I didn’t want to go home,” she says with more honesty and seriousness, a blush creeping up her cheeks and down her chest. “And once I had an excuse to see you, well…”

He hums thoughtfully and kisses her softly. “I know what you mean.”

“I guess I didn’t expect our meeting to end like this, not that I'm complaining.”

He laughs against her mouth and nods before murmuring, “let me make you breakfast, aye?”

With a nod and a happy sigh, and asks, “can I use your shower quick? I’d rather not smell like sex when I pick up my kid from kindergarten.”

Another kiss later, he says, “of course, love. I’d be happy to provide some support in there as well; I know sometimes that temperature valve can be difficult to navigate.”

She sits up in bed, taking the thin sheet with her to cover her breasts, and turns to face him. “I’m sure it can be. You really did a number on me, too. I’m so exhausted that I might need some help soaping up.”

He smirks and raises a brow, watching as she stands and growling as he chases her into the bathroom.

~~~~

She’s glad that it’s the middle of the morning on a Monday, because that means his neighbors hopefully aren’t home and weren’t able to hear the rather noisy shower they took. Surely the sounds coming out of her were traveling through the pipes, but she couldn’t exactly keep quiet while he fucked her against the wall of the shower.

She’s also not sure how she’ll go on with her day when he keeps planting kisses to her neck as he stands behind her, holding her hips while she tries her damndest to flip the pancakes before they burn. “You've gotta stop,” she groans, panting as his fingers slide around her front and trace the zipper of her jeans.

“But you’re so irresistible,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have time to shower again.”

He hums against her neck, licking along the sensitive spot just below her ear, and says, “you don't have to leave for an hour.”

“Killian…” she giggles. “Grab me a plate.”

He does, holding it out for her so that she can place the pancakes on it before he presses a tender kiss on her cheek and says, “thank you, love.” She hums in question and he responds, “I believe I promised you breakfast, and here you are preparing it.”

“Well,” she shrugs, taking her own plate and carrying it to his small table. “I am a mother now. Breakfast foods are my specialty. Henry’s particularly fond of scrambied eggies.”

“I’m sure they're delicious,” he nods, smiling as he pours syrup over his pancakes and then offers it to her. “He’s quite the character.”

With a smile, she says, “my pride and joy. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I can imagine,” he smiles back. He cuts into the pancake with his fork and takes a bite, humming and smiling around them at her. “Is he… is he why you stay?”

With a gulp and a bite of her own, if only so that she can avoid answering for a moment longer, she nods. “Walsh doesn’t want much to do with him, but he’s spiteful. He would keep him from me just because he can. He thinks he has to maintain his perfect family image if he has any hopes for reelection”

He’s silent for a moment, and she can see the way he bites the inside of his cheek to try and keep quiet. “Aye,” he finally says. “I suppose there isn’t much I can say about staying with someone who isn’t good for you.”

She’s surprised that he’s bringing this up, but supposes it had to be addressed at some point. “In your case, it was going back to that person.”

“I didn’t feel I had much of a choice.”

“I know. I wanted you to stay and you didn’t want to hear it. It’s okay.”

“I heard you, love,” he argues. “I just… I had to go.”

“Then how can you say you heard me?” She takes another bite, trying to remain calm and keep this a discussion rather than an argument. “I wanted you to stay for your own good, Killian. He was abusive to you your whole life; you didn’t owe him anything.”

She hasn’t thought about this in detail in years, but is brought back to one of their final conversations easily. “Liam died,” he says by way of explanation, and she nods. It’s impossible to not be empathetic for his loss, but six years ago when he impulsively decided to take his late brother’s place and care for their dying father despite how badly he’d abused his sons, she lost it.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“What happened to Brennan?”

“He died,” he says casually, with little obvious emotion surrounding his father’s death. “Last year. And… well, you were right. I couldn’t handle it; I drank the whole time I was there. I felt sorry for myself-- I had lost Liam, I lost you… I couldn’t handle it.”

She puts her fork down and takes his hand, although he refuses to look up from his plate. “Killian, alcoholism runs in your family.”

“I know. And after I found out how Liam died… I don't know. I-- I’ll be honest, Swan, I wanted you to come with me so badly; I resented you for not coming.”

In surprise, she says, “Killian, I couldn't condone what you were doing. I know how much it hurt to know that Liam was drunk driving, when you thought he was your perfect older brother. I know you felt like you had to take his place as the prodigal son. But Brennan abused the two of you your whole lives. I couldn’t let you go back to him after what he’d done to you; he didn’t deserve it and neither did you.”

“I know that, looking back.”

His father must’ve died a slow and painful death if he’d only passed away a year ago. Cirrhosis of the liver is bad enough, and when he refused to stop drinking despite his prognosis, Killian became enraged. He refused to speak to his father, and lashed out at his brother who saw it as his duty to care for the dying man despite years of torturous abuse. She thought he had his head on his shoulders when she found out how angry he was with Liam for caring for their father when he deserved the opposite.

But then, Liam died. Killian had no idea that his brother struggled with alcoholism just as his father had, as it was easy to hide from across an ocean. But when he found out that his brother, the man he idolized endlessly, died as a result of driving drunk, he spiraled and became someone she hardly recognized. He began drinking himself, although not quite enough to be concerning, and eventually determined that, in order to do right by his brother, he had to take his place in caring for their father.

She couldn’t watch him destroy himself for the man he hated. So she gave him an ultimatum, and he chose his path.

He didn’t choose her.

“When Liam died, you lost yourself,” she says, explaining her thoughts to herself as much as she is to him. “I wanted to help you find yourself again but you wouldn’t let me. I just couldn’t sit and watch you go back to that life of abuse; even if he was too weak to hit you or burn you with his cigarettes, I’m sure he got on just fine with the verbal abuse.”

“How is that any different from me letting you go back home to your husband with that bloody bruise on your wrist? I’m sure he isn’t any kinder to you than my father was to me.” he argues, and she's taken aback, her eyes widening.

“Don’t throw that in my face,” she returns. “I don’t have a choice just like you thought you didn’t. Only I have a son to think about.”

He sighs and finally looks up at her. “I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I just… I don't know. I regret leaving every day, and I have since the moment I boarded that damn plane. The moment I shut the door to our apartment. But sometimes I can't help but think, if I hadn’t, perhaps you wouldn’t have your boy.”

She nods, and in her refusal of his past suspicions, she says, “I wouldn’t.”

“But perhaps you also wouldn’t have your husband.”

She nods again. She doesn’t blame him, and she tries not to blame herself either, but he’s right. If he hadn’t left, she wouldn’t have gone out a month later and slept with the first guy who looked at her. So, again, she says more sadly, “I wouldn’t.”

“Double edged sword, I suppose.”

She smiles sadly and nods. There’s silence between them for a few moments before she considers what they've been through, where he’s been, and asks, “if he died a year ago, what… how did you find me?”

He shrugs and blushes. “I didn’t mean to, actually. I came back to Boston looking for you and had no such luck. Then one night I ran into Elsa at a bar and she told me you were gone, that you left years ago, right after I did, and… I don't know. Something broke in me and I quit drinking-- for the most part. I decided I had to leave Boston and took the first job I could find, and it happened to be here.”

She gives him a small smile and asks, “did you intend to try and win me back?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

His serious tone in response to her joking one is surprising, but she knows he’s telling the truth. She knows he would've been successful, too, if she’d been single when they met again. Hell, he’s successful now.

“I can’t leave him yet, Killian. I want to, but it’s not… I need to put Henry first.”

“I know,” he says sadly.

“But that doesn’t mean… I mean…” she sighs. “Just-- I know this is selfish of me to ask of you but, well, I never-- Killian, I never got over you,” she gulps. “I have every intention of leaving him when I can and when I know that it’s safe to do so. And when I do… I mean, I was hoping--”

“Emma,” he interrupts, taking her hand. “I love you. I told you already, I don't intend to lose you again. I want to build the life with you that we’ve always planned on having. Just… Now, there's a little lad involved, as well.”

With tears in her eyes, she meets his and says, “even though he isn’t yours?”

“He’s yours. That’s enough for me.” She grins at him and stands, leaning over the table until she meets his lips in a soft, meaningful kiss. “But Emma, love, you’ve got to promise me that you’ll stay safe. If he hurts you again, or if he tries to hurt the boy…”

“He won't. He isn’t usually like that, he won't do it again. And he’d have to pay attention to Henry in order to be any threat to him.”

“Swan…”

“I love you, too.”

He laughs lightly and kisses her once more. “Of all the ways I imagined us being together again, an extramarital affair wasn’t on the list.”

She giggles, cradling his head in her hands, and says, “it’s kinda hot, though.”

With a soft scoff and a shake to his head, he rolls his eyes and kisses her chastely before standing up and taking her empty plate. “Come,” he says, “we need to come up with whatever story I’m going to be feeding Ruby all night.”

~~~~

“It’s so beautiful, Emma,” Mary Margaret coos as she shows her photos of the house they’ll be renting in just a few weeks time. “When David suggested we get away, I was just so excited.”

“It’s lovely,” she nods, smiling softly up at her sister as she picks at her salad.

“Mommy, I need more cheppy.”

“Ketchup, bub. Here.”

Henry hums happily as he dips his nuggets into the ketchup, making animated sounds as each dinosaur perishes as he takes a bite.

“You’ve hardly touched your lunch,” her sister complains after a moment, looking at her nearly full plate in disappointment. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says back. “I just had a late breakfast.”

Mary Margaret screws up her face in surprise and says, “you never eat breakfast.”

She shrugs. “Well, today I did.”

“What did you have, mommy? Cheeries, like me?”

“You had Cheerios, my love. I had pancakes.”

“Pancakes?! I want pancakes! You never let me have pancakes on a school day!”

“You must've been in a good mood if you decided to make yourself pancakes.”

Emma shoots her sister a discerning look, furrowing her brows, and shrugs. “Maybe I was.”

“That’s new,” she says, laughing when Emma tosses her napkin at her. “I’m sorry, but come on,” she laughs. “You’ve been miserable for months. What’s changed?”

“Nothing,” she mumbles immediately. “Oh, Henry, I got your train. Here you go.”

With wide eyes, he gasps in excitement and snatches it from her, hugging it to his chest. “You found Tommy! Thank you, mommy! Where was he?”

“Was Tommy missing?��

“Mommy left him in her coat and then she lost it,” he snitches.

“Wasn’t that the coat you wore out? You didn’t leave it at the bar, did you?”

She lets her jaw hang open just a bit too long before shaking her head and explaining, lying, “no, uh, I was… ya know…” she says, giving her sister a knowing look. “A little out of my head when I got home that night. Forgot where I put it.”

Mary Margaret hums and nods her head before saying, “you know, I think I saw the sheriff there that night.”

Henry gasps again, his gray eyes wider than she’s ever seen them, and asks, “mommy, do you know the sheriff?”

She gulps again, choking on her breath, and says, “yeah, I do.”

“You do?” her sister asks, and she wants to kick her under the table.

“Yes, Henry,” she says pointedly. “The sheriff and I are friends. How were your chicken nuggets?”

“They’re dinosaur-ies.”

“Dinosaurs.”

“Yeah.”

She smiles at him fondly and says, “I love you,” before she can stop the words from slipping past her lips.

He smiles back at her and returns, “I love you too, mommy. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, baby. I just wanted you to know that I love you.”

Based on the way her sister is staring at her, she thinks she may have made a mistake opening her mouth.

“Are we going to get Leo?”

“Yeah,” she laughs. “Auntie M’s, are we going to go get Leo?”

She hums and picks up her plate, grabbing Emma's as well and shaking her head at how much salad is left. “I’m sure we should. Ashley is probably sick of him by now.”

~~~~

Arriving at the station should feel like any other day, but when he walks in, Ruby smirks at him. And he’s just about had it before he even gets to his office.

“Morning, sheriff,” she says salaciously, wriggling her brows.

“It’s 1 pm.”

“Right.”

“What?”

She shrugs and giggles to herself, looking back at her computer screen with wide eyes and a hidden smile. ”How’s your friend?”

“Ruby,” he starts, groaning as he tosses his keys onto his desk, sitting down forcefully and dropping his head onto his forearms.

She follows him into his office, despite him desperately hoping she won’t, and places a printed sheet of paper onto his desk.

“What’s this?” he asks, picking it up and staring at the sheet that makes no sense.

“Something I found while I was bored today. My boss made me work a double.”

“Ruby,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Sometimes you just have to work a double. I’m sorry, but when you're the only deputy, it sort of comes with the territory. What did you find?”

“Yeah, whatever,” she rolls her eyes. “Look at the name on the account.”

He looks down at the sheet she’s given him and, at the top corner, sees a name. Walsh Oswald.

Bloody hell.

“How’d you get this?”

She ignores him, giving him a look that tells him that perhaps he doesn’t want to know. “That’s a lot of money,” she remarks obviously, nodding towards the printout. He isn't sure how she got access to his transfer records, but he must admit, he’s impressed, despite the fact that it’s likely inadmissible. Either way, it’s a start.

“Aye. Where does it come from?”

“I don't know. But I have a feeling we should do some police work.”

~~~~

#tw #tw alcohol abuse #tw past abuse #tw death #all mentions of these things #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #spaces between us #spaces ff #cs ff au #captain swan au #killian jones #emma swan #ouat ff #ouat ff au

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