#{ i hope this is okay! if you need me to change anything just let me know! }

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 6

in which spencer reid and inexperienced!fem reader are finally honest with each other. complete with tears and more than a few make-up kisses.

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this series is 18+ warnings/tags: angst but mostly fluff, i think this qualifies as hurt/comfort, HHEHHEHHEH, lots of kissing, so cheesy, you jokingly imply he's a slut, i need him expeditiously a/n: thank you guys for being patient with me!! ilysm!! i edited this until i hated it but i hope it's satisfactory for YOU guys..... as always please please let me know what you think!! and i already started the next part hehehe

The car ride is the worst of your life. 

Neither of you speak. 

And you find yourself wishing, pleading to god that one of you will say something to fix this—but each minute ticks by and the streets get familiar and a quiet song ends and you realize you were silly to ever think a twenty minute car ride would change anything. 

Spencer was the luckiest you’d ever been and your relationship is floating away like a balloon you forgot to hold on to—nothing more than a red dot lost to the vast blue. 

Maybe for him it’s easier. You’re pretty sure it is, as you risk one or two glances at his unreadable profile that turn into lingering, obsessive looks because you’re panicking and realizing you’ll maybe never see him this close again. It’s funny and terrible how quickly you’re remembering what it was like to see him at the coffee shop for the first time—how he was nothing but a beautiful stranger, completely unknown to you and worlds away. Now you’ve had him, sort of, and you’re turning into the girl who could never have him all over again. 

When he turns onto your street reality begins to sink in. Your heart is a short fuse inside your chest as he pulls into a spot and parks the car. The rumble of the engine cuts. The headlights stay on. 

For a moment, everything is quiet. You wish you could insert your own reality into the silence—one where you’re simply enjoying each other’s company and there’s no sense of impending doom to take your breath away. 

“Do you want to talk?” Spencer asks, looking pointedly ahead where the lights shine off the back of some other person’s car. A wayward moth dips and swirls into the high beams. You watch Spencer track it with his eyes. 

“I’m not sure what to say,” you admit quietly. The weight of everything you’d like to say sits in your stomach like lead, too heavy to divulge. It’s only been a few weeks of having to carry the truth around with you and your muscles are already fatiguing. The idea of carrying it around indefinitely makes your eyes sting. You’re already exhausted. 

Maybe a stronger person would find that last bit of energy to make a final push, to save the relationship just before it falls apart. 

But you never claimed to be strong.

Deep down, you must’ve known you weren’t ready for a real relationship. You can’t handle all of this pretending to be okay with things that hurt. Even if that's the grown-up thing to do.

“I tried. I really did, I’m sorry—I’m—”

Before you can get the words out your throat tightens around them and you bury your face in your hands. 

The sound of his seatbelt unlocking and whirring back surprises you—but you’re even more surprised when he undoes yours. Still, you move your arm so it can snap back into place and then he’s pulling you into him. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, one hand on the back of your head as you lean over the small gap between the seats, unable to stop yourself from shedding more tears. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry. 

For not loving you?

If it’s not your fault he doesn’t love you back—then whose fault is it? Who’ll take the fall?

But still, he’s holding you so carefully, like you’re made of porcelain. Something to be protected. Or at the very least, something to be mourned even after it’s in pieces. 

As you lean against him, lulled by the slow in and out of his breath, the inverse of yours, and the way he slips his thumb over the back of your hair in silence for a few minutes—you wonder what’s missing. Why he’s not satisfied. 

“I don’t understand you.”

The words come out flat, muffled by his coat, garbled with leftover tears. 

“What was that?” Spencer asks gently, still playing with your hair. You sniffle, adjusting your head so your cheek is to his shoulder and your lips are no longer smushed. 

“I just… I want you to explain it to me.”

“Explain what?”

You sit up just enough to meet his eyes. The movement seems to take him by surprise, but he keeps his hands on you—one slipping to your cheek and the other still loyal to your back. He brushes his fingers over the delicate skin beneath your eye and you cover them with your own in an effort to get him to stop treating you so kindly. But even now, when you’re mad at him for being so gentle in the way that he hurts you, you can’t help but seek the familiar callus on the side of his trigger finger. It’s an odd thing to anticipate missing, but you’ll miss all of him. You can’t imagine holding a hand without that familiar anomaly—a cairn to show you where he’s been and who you’re holding. 

He curls his warm hand around yours and you hold your joined fist out for him in emphasis, speaking louder than either of you were prepared for. 

“This! You! I understand that we don’t feel the same way about each other and maybe I can’t change that. But then you do this and I don’t understand why. I don’t understand why this isn’t enough for you, because it’s enough for me, and I just—I don’t know what else I can give you. I don’t know what else there is. I don’t understand why I’m not... enough.” The tears are back and flowing freely, but you forge breathlessly ahead, because you’ve finally found a way to be honest and you’re not going to stop now. Spencer is frowning, lips parted and clearly confused or shocked or something, but you continue your confessional before he has the chance to interrupt. “I want to be enough, but you didn’t even give me the chance, and I don’t think it’s fair that we’re breaking up when you didn’t let me try. Maybe if you just told me, if you explained what’s missing I could fix it and you could love me back, and—please. I just want to try. Please, Spencer.”

A car engine revs somewhere far away, echoing down the street. It reverberates for several seconds, unimpeded by any other noise. Any word, any breath. 

His voice is thin when he responds a moment later, still studying your face with a kind of scrutiny that is so indecipherable you don’t know how you expect him to respond. 

“Love you back?”

You blink. 

Your stomach drops. 

For all that you’d revealed, for all that you’d willingly humiliated yourself with your pathetic supplication—you’d meant to keep that four letter word to yourself. 

What a way to make an exit from your relationship. 

Spencer is still looking at you, keeping you pinned to your seat, and as much as you wish it wasn’t the case he’s not going to let you off the hook this time. He’s going to demand an answer, and you have a 0% chance of bursting into mist before you have to provide an explanation, so you have no choice but to say something. 

What, exactly, you’re going to say—you don’t know. 

“I didn’t…”

“You didn’t mean it.”

The response comes so quickly, sharp as a slap, that you jump back slightly, a deep frown twisting your brow. Spencer makes no effort to keep his hand in yours as you slip from his grasp. 

“That’s not what I was—”

“Just say what you mean.” Silence. “Tell me.”

It’s like he’s got an ice pick to your chest. It’s like he wants you to humiliate yourself even further, to punish you for your messy indiscretions. 

“Spencer…”

It’s a warning. You’re giving him a chance to stop this before he hurts you sadistically. Before he becomes unrecognizable. 

He swallows. 

“Please.” And then, a second later, when you’re still trying to process the quiet pain in his voice and suddenly faced with the unexpected question of who is hurting who, “please, just… tell me if you meant it.”

For the first time tonight, you notice how exhausted he looks. Slightly gaunt, even paler than usual. Shadows pool deeper in the hollows of his face. His eyes look glossy, dark crescents below awaiting to catch tears you realize you’ve never seen fall. The tonal shift has you so disoriented, so out of your body like you’re seeing yourself in his own injuries—the truth becomes the only humane answer. Even if it hurts you.

“Yes. I meant it. You know I mean it.”

“I don’t know that,” he says on a shaky exhale. “How would I know that?”

And he’s got the ice pick back at your sternum. It’s tipped in poison. The mallet trembles in the air. So does your voice. 

“You told me you didn’t feel the same. You said it was new for me and different and I was going to make things complicated and you treated me like I was a stupid kid, and—and it doesn’t even matter. This was dumb. I’m sorry I said anything, I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing. I just.. I can’t do this.”

You’re about to open the door, every muscle tense as you wonder what the hell is wrong with you. What reduced you to the weepy, pathetic girl, begging a boy to love her despite knowing it doesn’t work like that—the same girl you’ve looked down your nose at in every film and TV show and in every high school and college hallway since you learned what self-superiority meant. Before you knew exactly what it felt like to be her. 

“Wait.”

He says your name.  

And of course you pause. 

You want a reason to stay. If you had more self-respect, you wouldn’t. But you know you’ll give him as many chances to give you an excuse as he’s willing to take. You knew that before your fingers met the metal of the door handle. 

“Just—hold on a second. Can you look at me?” 

You sniffle and wipe your eyes with the heel of your palm before turning around to face him once more. You wonder if anyone will ever have the kind of power he has over you ever again. 

The despair leaves only wisps of itself on his face—mostly he looks like he’s thinking hard about something. It’s jarring. 

“You’re talking about our phone call on Sunday, right?”

You nod petulantly with a quick teary eye-roll because obviously that’s what you’re talking about. 

Something lights in his own dark eyes as he inhales, parts his lips as if to speak, and stops himself again. Like he’s got news that he’s not sure how to break. 

“The things I said, on that call… I wasn’t talking… about you.”

Your insides feel like tangled yarn as you stare at him uncomprehendingly. 

“I mean, I was. I was talking about us. But not in the way you think, it was—” he stops, rubbing his eyes and taking a frazzled breath. “I know what it’s like to be the one who cares more. I have to assume that I’m the one who cares more because when I don’t, I ruin things. And with you, I felt like—the stakes were so high, and I thought it’d be safer for me to not say anything until I knew you felt the same. But I know that’s not fair to you so I tried to tell you over the phone that if you didn’t feel the same way it was okay. And now I’m—I’m realizing the way I phrased it was incredibly unclear and misleading, and somehow I fucked it up in a completely new way. But I wasn’t referring to you. I just didn’t want you to feel stuck with someone who can’t give you casual when you have so much ahead of you. I had no idea you felt that way about me. And I am so, so sorry that I hurt you. I never meant for that to happen.”

You blink. 

And for some reason, begin sobbing. 

Spencer freezes for a moment, then tells you to stay there and you barely have the capacity to wonder what he means as you hear his own door opening then slamming shut again. A moment later he’s on the passenger side, opening your door and leaning in. 

“Hey,” he whispers, gently pulling your hands from your face and making you turn your head to look at him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But that’s good news, right? Why all the tears, lovely? What’s wrong? Please talk to me.”

You take a shuddering breath. 

“This is all my fault, I ruined everything because I was too scared to tell you before and now—and now—”

Stroking your cheeks to wipe away the tears is a futile effort because they just keep coming, but Spencer does it anyway, and he speaks so kindly, so evenly it somehow hurts deeper. 

You were terrible to him. And he had been prepared to accept that. He thought you didn’t love him, and he was still willing to be the subject of all your cryptic frostiness and inexplicable cruelty. 

“It is not your fault. You didn’t ruin anything. I’m still right here. We’re okay.”

“But we’re breaking up, and—and I was so mean to you. That’s not okay, Spencer.”

You finally look at him. He’s close, eyes warm and wide as he looks directly into your own teary gaze, shaking his head earnestly. 

“You were confused, honey. So was I. It was just a misunderstanding. But… I know I was unkind to you. I cannot express how sorry I am for that, and the last thing I want is for us to break up, but if you think that’s what’s best, I’ll… I’ll understand.”

His voice is dangerously thin by the end, strained with impending tears of his own. But he’s eternally kind—backlit by the streetlamps and beautiful like an angel.  Whatever you want, he’ll give you. Even if it’s this. 

“I don’t want that. I don’t.” You sigh, closing your eyes briefly against the world as you realize the impending breakup had been a delusion all along. That you were going to let your insecurities and some sick pride end the relationship for you. All that despair had been for nothing. Or—maybe not nothing. You realize he still hasn’t said it back. But you won’t be a coward. It’s not worth losing him. You open your eyes.  “I just—I want us to be on the same page. And if you don’t love me yet or if you don’t wanna say it, or if you can’t, I get it—it’s okay, but if you don’t could you maybe just tell me? So that I’ll know—”

Before you can process it Spencer is leaning in, head angled to accommodate you, pressing his lips to yours so softly your breath catches and your stomach flips. Maybe softer than he ever has before, and it’s like taking a deep breath after holding it through a dark tunnel. You exhale a tentatively soft sigh against him, releasing air you don't have along with the fraught tension in most of your body. All too quickly he’s pulling away, hands still cupping your cheeks and thumbs stroking over your skin. When he speaks it’s not quite a whisper, but secret-soft. 

“How could I not be so in love with you?” 

Suddenly you can feel the world turning underneath you. Or maybe you’re just dizzy from lack of oxygen. Either way it feels good. A drop of warmth makes a splash in your stomach and slowly spreads through every vein and capillary until you’re sure you’re glowing gold. 

“Really?”

“Of course really. I’m—” he takes a breath of his own, and you realize how difficult this must be after what happened the last time he professed his love for a girl. Your chest aches for him. His voice is low and solicitous, but it wavers slightly. “I should have told you sooner. I wanted to, but I was worried—I was worried the way I felt for you was… too much. I am so in love with you it scares me. I still don’t know what to say or how to act around you. When I’m gone, sometimes I imagine quitting my job, just so I can come home and see you sooner. When I have a gun in my hands, I start thinking about all the things I would do to keep you safe, or—or just because you asked me to. And if what you wanted was for me to leave you alone, I would have done that. If you wanted me to drop everything and everyone to be with you I would have done that. And I know you’d never ask those things of me. But any of them, I’d do in a heartbeat. Which is… it’s a little scary, huh?”

The final sentence is a nervous self-effacing chuckle, which you can match in sound only—one breathy attempt at a laugh from your slackened jaw. 

When that’s the only response you can manage, he clears his throat. 

“Too honest?”

You shake your head as if in a fog. 

“No. Not too honest. But I’m just… I’m trying not to cry again.”

He smooths over your hair fondly. His own eyes are shiny and full of wonder as he studies you for a short while, like you're doing something much more awe-inspiring than sniffling in the passenger seat of his car. Then one hand is dropped to your shoulder and the other braced against your seat back. Finally, he pulls back to a more reasonable distance with a shaky sigh. It’s a sound of relief. You want to hug him, and all the past hims who have ever been hurt by anyone. 

“You, um—you need to rehydrate. Do you have anything that will rebalance your electrolytes? If you don’t I can go to the store—”

“You don’t need to do that,” you assure him with a small, watery laugh, loosely grabbing the wrist that brushes your shoulder. 

“But you need to take care of yourself. And I know you haven’t been drinking enough water because you never do.”

There’s a lingering overwrought shakiness to his voice, but it’s still the most relaxed he’s sounded since he came home, and you realize that the worst is behind you. The storm that you’d been so sure you couldn’t weather is somehow clearing up. 

“I can’t believe we almost just broke up.”

He hangs his head, dropping it to the curve of your neck and groaning. 

“Don’t say that. Let’s not think about that right now. Just—” when he raises his head again, and shakes it slightly to get his hair out of his eyes, they’ve cleared, like he’s on a mission to change the subject. “Let’s go upstairs. Will you let me take care of you?”

You give him an exaggerated nod, still sniffing, and the smile that grows on his face is like seeing the sun rise above the ocean. You love his smile. You love him. 

Spencer kisses you on the cheek. 

“Okay. Let me lock the car and then we can go up.”

As soon as you get into your apartment and turn on the light Spencer goes to the kitchen. It’s a small unit, but antique and nice enough, though you prefer Spencer’s. There’s still some tension as you observe him filling a glass with water, kicking your boots off by the door—but not necessarily the bad kind. You’re not sure exactly what it is. 

“Where are you going?” He asks as you pass the kitchen area to turn on a standing lamp in the opposite corner of the room. 

“I don’t like the big light.” A warm glow emanates through stained glass as you flick it on. 

“I know that. I just didn’t realize it was a higher priority than your wellbeing.” His tone is sardonic but he’s already switching off the overhead lighting for you. You give him a wry smirk as you finally approach and take the proffered glass from his waiting hand. 

“Ambience over everything, baby.”

His brows pinch at the cavalier sentiment—you never call him baby, so you're sure he knows it’s a joke—and he shakes his head with a humorous little huff of air through his nose, watching as you drink deeply. Your hand is shaking. Spencer notices and covers it with both of his, taking the half empty glass with one and grabbing your hand with the other. 

“Adrenaline,” he murmurs, kissing your knuckles. “It’ll go away soon. Did you get enough?”

You nod, smiling small but genuinely. Emotionally exhausted or not, you’re happy. 

Spencer strays, not far, to set the glass on the counter. Then he turns to face you, bracing his palms on the ledge and just watching you for a moment with the kind of smile that makes you nervous in the best way.

He beckons you to him with nothing more than a quick tilt of his head, and you shuffle across the floor in your socks til you’re toe to toe. Without your shoes on, he feels much taller. Still he just watches you for a moment—not that you mind. Your view isn’t half-bad. The faint warm glow from the lamp casts shadows over his face, highlighting all the perfect angles, deep brown eyes framed by dark lashes, and lips that still make you feel like a girl with a crush when you look at him. His hair is getting long. You’re unreasonably glad you still get to look at him like this. 

“Hi,” you whisper—something about the intimate dark of the room feels like a place for secrets. 

“Hi, pretty.” Spencer tucks hair behind your ear, eyes soft wherever they focus on your face like if he even looks at you too sharply you might break. “Have I told you how much I missed you while I was gone?”

He knows he hasn’t.

“Even when I was being a heinous bitch?”

Spencer laughs and it makes you smile too. The way his smile changes the landscape of his whole face will never feel any less like observing a natural phenomenon. It’s unfair how beautiful he is, and how you’re keeping him all to yourself in the dark on the fourth floor of an apartment building in DC. 

“Even then. Not sure that’s the wording I would have used.”

“I missed you too,” you admit softly. 

He maps your face with wandering eyes like he’s done a hundred times. Vaguely you wonder if he sees the same kind of beauty in you that you see in him. If he sees landmarks in your flaws and stars beyond the observable universe in your eyes. 

Spencer sweeps your hair over your shoulder, fingertips grazing your neck. 

“Can I kiss you?” He murmurs. 

Butterflies fill your stomach and you nod shyly, unsure of what would come out if you tried to speak.

His free hand settles on your lower back and brings you into him until you’re chest to chest. With his other on your jaw, he bows his head, and you angle yours up, allowing your eyes to flutter shut. 

Spencer kisses you so gently it aches in your chest, still cupping your face and stroking your cheek. You can’t help wrapping your arms around his middle—before he’s pulling away far too soon. 

And he’s laughing. 

“What were you drinking?”

You frown, flustered and trying to remember a time before his lips were on yours.

“Water.”

“Before that, baby. At the bar.”

You think back even further, head muddled even more by the endearment so that it takes you a moment to recall. 

“A Shirley Temple. Derek brought it to me. Why? Is that bad?”

“No,” he says, still smiling as his lips brush yours. “You’re perfect. You taste like candy. It’s cute.”

Oh. You feel warm as he presses another kiss to your lips—and this time you insist on him staying awhile. He’s happy to oblige. 

Spencer kisses you soft and careful at first, and then deeper, but still so slow, until you can’t help the way you’re bunching the fabric of his shirt between your fingers and rising on your toes to try and get impossibly closer. He kisses you the way you’ve been needing him to since he left, long and unhurried and sweet—and takes everything you give him, siphoning away all your leftover turmoil and angst until you’re weightless. You’re deprived of oxygen, you’re dizzy, and you don’t care at all. 

“I love you,” you breathe against him before he captures your lips again with a hum that flips your stomach, his hand rubbing over your hip. 

“Say it again,” he mutters against your mouth a second later, brushing hair away from your face. 

It comes out a little mumbled this time between kisses, but it comes out all the same. 

“Love you.”

He sighs into you—relief that mirrors your own. 

“I love you.”

It seems like the kind of thing that will never stop sounding perfect from his lips. 

A final deep kiss shortens into a series of smaller ones, and then he’s pulling away slowly, brushing the corner of your mouth affectionately. 

Both of you require a few deep breaths—a moment to let your sparkling eyes wildly chart each familiar curve and convex and shade and shadow of the other’s face—before either of you can speak. Spencer breaks the silence first. 

“I’m sorry.”

You frown, stirred from your brainless bliss by his unexpected apology. 

“For what?”

The fiery glow in his eyes dampens slightly. 

“For what I said at the bar.”

Oh.

That.

It feels like a lifetime away—memories seen through someone else’s eyes. Words like blows from a less familiar mouth. 

You look away. For a while, you’d forgotten about that. Ideally he wouldn’t have reminded you. 

At least he doesn’t make you look at him. He just strokes your hair, watching you examine the tiled counter. His voice is soft and soothing, like he’s appealing to a scared rabbit. Or maybe something angrier and with more teeth. 

“You’re not immature, or badly behaved, or thoughtless. I was having an emotional reaction, I got defensive, and I lashed out. It was unfair and unkind of me to throw those things back in your face when I know how much trust it takes for you to be vulnerable with me. There’s nothing I can say or do that will adequately make up for that, but I want you to understand that I didn’t say any of it because it was the truth. I said it because I didn’t understand how you were feeling and I was hurt. I was insecure and I acted juvenile. I am so, so sorry, honey. You don’t have to forgive me, but you do need to know that none of it is true.”

Once you bite your lip long enough to be sure you won’t cry again, you speak. 

“It’s okay,” you insist with a cheerfulness as natural as hard plastic, something in your chest twinging. “I was mean too. Like you said, we were both confused.”

“It is not. I made you cry.”

Sometimes you forget that he’s not like other people. He’ll never accept anything less than the barest truth. So you look back up at him and speak with a level of honesty that you hope satisfies him. 

“I forgive you. You didn’t mean it. And I have insurance because Derek said he and Emily would kick your ass if you’re mean to me again.”

You hear the sad humor in his voice. His hand runs up and down your back. 

“If I’m ever mean to you again, I personally invite you to kick my ass. And then let Derek and Emily have their turn.” He thumbs at your cheek, studying you in silence for a moment. “I can’t tell you how much I wish I could take it back.”

You stand up a little straighter. Spencer tracks you with his eyes, noting the way you smile slightly. 

“You’ll find a way to make it up to me.”

“I’ll do anything for you,” he admits, barely a whisper and the truth of it so heavy you can feel it too. 

But for tonight you can’t contend with more weight. 

“You know what you could do right now?”

The mischief in your tone is obvious, and he hesitates, like he’s not sure he wants to let you move on from this so quickly. But eventually he plays along, pressing his thumb into the dip of your back and speaks lowly, just as you’d hoped he would. 

“What’s that?”

You smile slyly. 

“You could kiss me again.”

“Hm… I don’t know, three times in one night? Sounds a little excessive.”

“Do you want to be forgiven or not?” You huff. He smiles lazily, already dipping his head to press his lips to yours. 

“I thought I was already forgiven.”

“Apologies can be retracted.”

“Ah.” His next words are mumbled as his lips ghost yours. “Well we wouldn’t want that.”

Spencer puts you out of your misery, not bothering to warm you up to it before he’s kissing you with a deep need. It’s still languid, and not hungry, exactly—it’s more like an aching, mind-numbing thirst. It’s all-consuming, overwhelming to have all of his burning focus pinpointed on you like this. Both hands come to cup your face and you wonder if he wants you in ways that he doesn’t entirely understand, just as you want him. You wonder if anything could possibly sate this desire to possess him completely and for him to possess you, to trade corporeal forms—or if it’s just something you’ll have to live with like a metaphysical itch you can’t scratch. As he forces you to tip your head back for him, using his height to his advantage, breathing deeply against you and attempting to push himself impossibly closer, you begin to think he understands exactly how you feel. 

As soon as you’d sensed he wanted it, your lips had parted for him. He knows he could have any part of you. He knows how eager you are to give yourself to him. You’ve done everything to prove it, and yet you’ve never needed him quite like you do ask he pushes off the counter and slowly backs you against the wall, protecting your head with a hand as the paintings rattle ever so slightly. You gasp into his mouth and he kisses you greedier still, but his hands don’t stray from your cheeks. 

Not until, that is, you hook your right leg around his left, and he catches it, fingers wrapping under the bend of your knee. 

Never in your life have you regretted picking jeans rather than a skirt more than you do right now. 

But to your disappointment, Spencer slows down to a halt—pulling his lips from yours like they’d been stuck by molasses until he’s far enough away to study you wildly, panting just as you are. His hair hangs over his smoldering eyes. He’s disheveled. It’s sexy. 

“What?” You whisper, voice surprisingly hoarse.

He looses a dry, abashed laugh. The flush he’s sporting is incredibly charming. 

“I’m supposed to be playing nice with you.”

Spencer says it like it’s a mild hindrance. Something frissons in your core. You smile a little wider as you continue to catch your breath, which seems to please him. 

“Playing nice?”

“Being gentle. I’m not supposed to push my favorite things against walls when they’re delicate.”

Your face heats at the way he speaks of you—if it weren’t Spencer, if you didn’t know he really doesn’t think of you as an object, you’d be pissed. But instead all you can think about is how good it feels when he calls you his. 

“According to who?”

His eyes dart between yours and then down to your lips several times before he averts them to the wall beside you with an intensity that could burn holes through the plaster. Is that how he looks at you?

“According to me. I think… god, you're going to hate me for this. But I think I need you to kick me out.”

You drop your leg at the same time as you do your heart. 

“What?”

“I know,” he says, over-apologetically, “I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let that escalate. But we can’t… do anything tonight.” Before you can protest, he rushes to explain himself. “It’s just that it’s been a long day. It’s been a long week, actually, and I doubt either of us have slept very much, and I think you’re really drained, and probably not thinking super clearly. I don’t think you’re in the best place for decision making.”

You look pointedly down to where he still has you pressed to the wall. 

“I think I’m in a great place.”

At that he steps back, but lets his hands find yours and pulls you away from the wall—just not quite as close as before. His nose bumps against yours as he speaks low and sweet. 

“I understand that you want me to stay right now. But it’s not a good idea to associate fighting with physical pleasure. That can set some really dangerous patterns.”

“We’re not fighting,” you plead, matching his tone as you look up at him with big eyes. His fingers lace with yours. 

“You’re right. Maybe fighting was the wrong word. But we had some pretty intense conversations today, didn’t we?”

Reluctantly you nod. 

“Right,” he agrees. “Same premise. We need to be able to have those conversations without getting distracted.”

In a last ditch attempt to get him to change his mind, you give him your best approximation of the imploring, wide-eyed gaze he sometimes uses on you. Something not entirely smile and not entirely smirk twists the corners of his mouth. When he ducks down to kiss you quickly, you reciprocate, but you lack the enthusiasm of earlier. 

“Hey.” 

“Hm,” you respond, dejectedly. 

“Don’t get all grumpy because I don’t put out.”

That puts a disgruntled little smile on your face as he probably knew it would. 

“I guess you just gave it up easy to all those other women.”

He grabs your chin and gives you a final peck. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never been with other women.”

“Mhm,” you grumble good-naturedly, pushing away from him and going to the door to undo the deadbolt. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

“Wow. I really must have overstayed my welcome if that’s the goodbye I get.”

You turn back around, brows raised. 

“Oh, I was prepared to be very welcoming. This is your doing.”

“Uh-huh. Come here.”

Happily you skitter back across the few feet of wooden flooring and wrap your arms tightly around him one more time, pressing your cheek to his chest. He’s ready, winding his arms over yours and rubbing your back. It’s eerily similar, you realize as he presses his face into the concave of your shoulder, to when he’d left on that most recent case. 

But at the same time—everything’s different. 

And you won’t make the same mistake twice. 

“Hey,” you smile, resting your head on his shoulder. Spencer pulls back to look at you, a similar grin on his face. 

“Hey what?”

“I remembered what I was gonna say.”

The grin widens. He knows exactly what you’re talking about. 

“Tell me.”

“I was going to tell you that I love you. And—I hope you’re not one of those people who’s uncomfortable being told that often. Because if that’s the case I’m really going to annoy you.”

“I’m not that kind of person,” he assures. “Tell me as often as you can.”

“But you should say it back. It’s more polite that way.”

“I love you,” he murmurs, in a voice more serious than your teasing tones had been but still soft and sweet around the edges. “You know, people talk about love as if it’s completely irrational and illogical. But with you… I think the world actually makes more sense than it used to. I understand things I never did before. You’ve taught me a lot.”

It’s like a lightshow in your stomach. You wonder if he has any idea the effect his casual musings have on you.

“You already knew everything.”

“Not everything,” Spencer whispers. “Not about the things that matter.”

And you’re fresh out of teases. All you can do is look up at him with big eyes again, in awe of the fact that you get to keep him after all. 

“Will you text me when you get home?” You request, voice reverent in the wake of an admission you could never hope to top. 

“I will. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nod, because it doesn’t even matter if you had other plans tomorrow. They’re as good as cancelled. 

Spencer kisses your cheek, and you get the sense that things are still being left unfinished. There’s an unresolved tension that you can’t shake, even after all the apologies and kisses and sweet words. Still, he made a point with his talk about not mixing argument with pleasure, and you’d like to respect those wishes because you respect him—even if every atom of your being shakes with desire to keep him locked in your bedroom, hidden away from the world together, for as long as you can possibly manage. 

Eventually, you loosen your hold, and you let him go. He lingers at the door, hands in his pockets, just watching you and mirroring your small smile as you hold onto the counter with an iron grip to keep yourself in check. After he finally peels his gaze away from yours and silently closes the door behind him, you stand there, staring at the wood for at least a minute.

Once you manage to shake yourself from your revery with a deep breath, you grab your glass from earlier and stand in front of the sink, watching it fill with a white jet of water. It’d be a shame to admit it to him, but maybe Spencer is right. Maybe you do need time to emotionally digest today. After all—that was technically your first argument. It seems to have left you sort of wound up. Not in a bad way, per se—maybe you just need to take a shower, let the hot water roll over your shoulders and wash away the frenetic energy that clings to you. 

Still, something tells you that you won’t be getting much sleep tonight, even if you do take the world’s longest shower. You’re simply too high-strung. You wonder if having Spencer here would fix that or make it worse. But ultimately, he’d made the call that it was a bad idea for him to stay, and you’re generally inclined to trust his judgement. 

The thought makes you laugh into your cup as you drink. Even after the debacle that was the past week, you trust him to know what he’s doing. Maybe you need to rethink that, at least temporarily, until he’s had a chance to redeem himself. 

Just then, your front door is opening with absolutely zero warning and slamming shut again before you can finish whipping around. Your heart threatens to choke you and you almost drop your glass, clutching your chest. 

“Jesus, you—”

But the words die in your throat as Spencer storms toward you, shrugging his coat off with a white-hot chill in his eyes. It’s enough to freeze you in place, heart drumming against the confines of your ribs. 

“You really need to start locking that door,” he breathes, tossing his jacket on the counter before grabbing your face and crashing his lips into yours, palms pressed to your jaw and fingers pushing into your hair. You stand there, hands hovering in air before you gain the wherewithal to blindly set the glass down behind you. Your heart is pounding as you immediately submit to the kiss, whining softly against his lips and cautiously seeking stability in the fabric of his shirt. Spencer pulls away only briefly, allowing you to gasp for much-needed air. His brown eyes are like molten gold on you, pupils blown wide and wild as he scans your face, taking heavy breaths of his own. “Anyone could just walk in.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, smut, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> ( eventually ) ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> mentions of violence, mention of putting down / death, etc. words -> 2.4K

abstract -> “I hope we can get along” 

y/n's perspective

San has been spending more time with me to try to remember. He’s refused to actually spend time alone in his room but also refused to go out with me. I had to go to the hospital for a change in my bandages but recently Yeosang and Wooyoung have been very adamant on bringing one of them with me. I couldn’t do that however, since I needed someone to look over San. 

I saw this as an opportunity to patch things up with Hongjoong. He’s been trying to find his place here but when he tries, he ultimately fails. 

He was firstly banned from the kitchen and Seonghwa refuses to have him help him clean saying he’s clumsy. Yeosang and San never really assigned themselves roles except when Yeosang chose what I wear. 

Hongjoong felt that he was out of place even though he had been helping… quite a lot with San. He couldn’t match his strength but did help hold him down when he turned… aggressive. San has been having night terrors of his past in the fighters ring, luckily however he hasn’t turned aggressive on any of us. 

I’ll mostly however just have San with me as I write my novel revamped like old times. 

“I don’t want you to go,” he said as he gripped my waist firmly and I sighed. “Sannie, I have to but I'll be back soon okay? Do… you want me to bring you anything?” I asked and he shook his head. 

“Just come back” he muttered and I smiled. “I always do,” I said and he nodded. “I know, '' he muttered and I knew his memories were there… they just confused him. He says that he knows that he attacked me, he remembers it clearly and he’s starting to remember his time in the kennel and meeting Wooyoung.

I left my room in hopes of getting to see Hongjoong. 

“y/n… are you leaving already?” Wooyoung asked? I nod as I notice his worried look. “Yeah, but it should be fine, don’t worry–” “You should take Wooyoung with you” Yeosang cut me off and I smiled softly. “You know he doesn’t like places like that… besides the doctor doesn’t allow hybrids inside and I’d rather not trigger an attack or episode,” I said while smiling at Wooyoung. He looked upset but I didn’t want to jeopardize his mental health. 

“I’ll go with you,” Yeosang said and I shook my head. “I need you to help with San,” I said and he sighed. “Can I go?” I heard and I saw Seonghwa. “He’s scared of hospitals… especially doctors,” Hongjoong said while getting hit by Seonghwa for catching his lie. 

“Then why don’t you come with me?” I asked Hongjoong and he looked at me confused and shocked. “He’s the one who–” “Yeosang… second chances remember?” I asked and his eyes widened slightly before looking away. “I’m ready when you are Hongjoong!” 

hongjoong’s perspective

I don't understand why she wanted me to go? I get that she needed the canine hybrids to help with San and his disturbed memory. However, I couldn’t let Seonghwa go knowing he had a fear of doctors and hospitals… he would’ve been panicked and upset. 

But why would she trust me?

The walk was silent… I made sure to keep an eye on her and she only walked with a smile on her face. Why? When we made it to the hospital I was glared at by the paramedic who saved her… he was her friend I believe. 

“y/n!” he said happily and I saw that her face had a smile to see the man. 

“I can see you chose to trust the tiger that caused these wounds,” he said while pointing at her bandaged jaw… I didn’t want to show him how I felt but I also couldn’t help but look at the ground. Why was I even here?

“This is Hongjoong… and it's okay, everything was a misunderstanding on both our parts,” she said and I sighed, "How was she so forgiving? “Well maybe you should have Kun do special training with him like he did with Yeosang '' he suggested… 

Yeosang did special training?

“Here, just sign in and I'll tell the doctor you’ve arrived,” he said as he left and she started answering some questionnaire he gave her… I didn’t notice how lost in my thoughts I was when I heard her ask me

“Are you okay?” she asked while I nodded not wanting to worry her. “I noticed you aren’t bad with others… you just have a lot of mistrust,” she said and I sighed. 

“You don’t have to be scared of anyone,” she assured and I didn’t want to accept that. 

“What did he mean?” I asked and she looked at me confused. “Yeosang? He did training?” I asked and she nodded. “He had many behaviors that he had trouble with stopping. It was mainly because of his training by his old owner it was hard to override it,” she said and I understood what she meant. 

“Would it help me?” I asked and she shook her head with a comforting smile. “It's the same reason why San isn’t doing any training… you can’t be around strangers and Kun won’t risk that” she said and I knew that it was a reasonable explanation. 

“Hongjoong I know you’re sorry… you don’t have to try so hard you know? I didn’t give you any reason to trust me and you were a hybrid who just escaped hell. We both didn’t make an effort.” she said and I shook my head. That was my fault… I made her doubt herself. 

“Do you know what you ripped that day?” She asked and I felt my body freeze… I knew it was some draft of a book she was writing… all I read was that it was named Circus. It angered me to think I inspired some fictional story for others to enjoy… based on my life of suffering.

“There's this character named Jum… he’s a lion hybrid. I first started with circus being a hybrid story of two hybrids who were mistreated and how they’d end up dead because of the hands of their ring leader–” she explained and it did remind me of the actual circus 

“–but then I added another hybrid and now it's gone. It originally was gonna end sadly. I restarted my story however, I added two more hybrids wanting to make almost a rebellion-type story” she explained…

A rebellion?

“The hybrids will end up escaping and defying society. Government laws will purge themselves and ultimately become an apocalypse-type end” she spoiled and I almost liked the sound of that. 

“Jum is inspired by you,” she said and I was shocked… just how did she see me? “He’s a lion hybrid… star of the show. He’s gonna lead the other hybrids to escape,” she said with a smile and I was shocked she’d give me such a big role in her book. 

“You’re the protagonist… it used to be San in my other version. But you naturally lead so I thought it was better to be inspired by you” she said and I smiled softly… It made me feel happy that she saw me that way and not in a bad way.

“y/n?” I heard as I saw the nurse call her. “They don’t let hybrids in so you can wait. Here and don’t rip it to shreds this time” she joked as he handed me a draft…

Hybrids, an experiment gone wrong. Human hybrids of animal counterparts. Animals but also humans. Considered disgusting creatures morally disgraceful.  Below Humans… until they decided to embrace their animalistic counterparts. Seen as pets, attractions, objects.  Standing in front of a stadium of people doing dangerous tricks that a normal person would never dream of doing… only to be cheered for almost dying.  To do degrading acts against our will… “Jum!” I heard as I saw the ringleader command me to behind the curtains… where I'd be stuck in a cage rotting for the rest of my life…  “You’ll be sharing a cage from now on,” a clown said as he pushed me into the cage where I saw the leopard hybrid. “Hello… I'm Si-woo” he introduced. He looked scared… confused as to what was happening.  “Where do you come from?” I asked curious as to who I would be performing with from now on and sharing a cage with. “My owner sold me. She decided I was too old to keep so she sold me to the man in charge,” he explained making me scoff.  Age, Species, and Appearance were important for humans when it came to hybrid collecting. “How long have you been here?” he asked softly. “All my life” I answered. “HEY! WATCH IT!!” I heard as I saw them now put a black and tabby cat hybrid in a cage. The black hybrid thrashing around in protective equipment. “Make sure that black cat gets punished later” I heard and I sighed. New recruits… I wonder how long they’ll last.  “Yong calm down! They’ll kill you if you continue behaving this way” the tabby cat softly said. “Tch! Don’t you get it Kyong! We’re gonna die here!” he yelled.  “What?” Si-woo said and the cats now looked at us.  “What? Did you assume you're here to learn tricks? They’ll use us until we’re dead.” Yong said and I agreed. “We can’t stay here! I-I don’t wanna die!” Si-woo yelled and I sighed. “As long as you behave, you won’t die” I heard a familiar voice.  Yeong was the only hybrid allowed outside. He was one of the popular acts with the magician… and is considered the best-behaved hybrid here.  “HEY! You can get us out!” Kyong exclaimed… how naive was he? “And risk my life for you? No way” he said and the hybrids physically deflated.  “Jum, you know the rules” the rabbit warned and I rolled my eyes. “Don’t you wanna leave?” Si-woo asked and the hybrid scoffed. “Where would I go? I would be adopted just to get mistreated there? I’d rather be here and play human than out there” he said and the cats glared.  Outside wasn’t safe… not until hybrid laws were outlawed. “So we live here? Until we die?” Si-woo muttered. “It’ll only last a few years if you're lucky,” Yeong said while looking at the ground. He was a hybrid in charge of the rules… played human but I could see the guilt in his eyes when a hybrid died. “If you’re lucky it’ll be painless,” I said and I knew this wasn’t right… but what could I possibly do? It's not like I could start a movem– 

“All done!” I heard as I looked up to see y/n. She had a change of bandages but otherwise looked fine. “Do you think it’s okay for now?” she asked and I couldn’t help but feel shocked. 

How did I judge her so wrong?

“Hongjoong?” she said and I smiled softly while handing her the story with shaky hands. “I’d love to read it some more,” I said and she smiled brightly. “Maybe you can help me!” she said as we started walking out of the hospital when I saw a boy probably her age maybe even younger?

“y/n!” he said happily while smiling almost like a samoyed dog hybrid would… “Jeno! How are you? I hope Johnny isn’t working you too hard” she said and he chuckled. “No… not yet anyway. And you?” he asked and she smiled. “Working but so far everything is okay,” she said and he nodded while staring at me cautiously… 

I knew they all looked at me as a threat… they also looked at the panther the same way as well as even the Doberman

“Make sure to be safe. There's been pickpockets… a lot of people have lost their wallets,” he said and I scoffed… pathetic.

“Huh?! I lost cash, probably two hundred dollars worth” she said and I was shocked… usually someone was with her so how did they manage to steal from her?

“Most people lost their entire wallets,” he said and I scoffed… I wouldn’t allow them to steal from her again.

“I will, I have Hongjoong with me! He’s probably the most intimidating besides San” she said and the boy nodded. “Be careful… and no more emergency room visits” he scolded as they said their goodbyes.

“Don’t go too far” I said as I grabbed the back of her shirt to be closer and she chuckled. “Don’t worry too much! The only times I've lost money were when I was alone” she said and I nodded. “I need to protect you” I confessed and she smiled. 

“No you don't–” “I do… it's the least I can do for you. I’m not good at other things. I can’t cook like Wooyoung or Seonghwa, I just end up making more of a mess when I try to clean–” “You don’t have to be… just as long as you're happy” she said cutting me off with a genuine smile and I felt my tail wag slowly… something it hasn’t done I think ever. 

“I will protect you… no matter what you say” I vowed and she smiled. “Thank you, Hongjoong,” she said and I nodded. That would be my purpose… protect her. 

We walked in a peaceful silence when I noticed a tall man looking at her… he smelt like a dog hybrid. He looked at me as he panicked and hid…

A hybrid was the pickpocket.

I soon saw another big hybrid come out and point at her but before I could growl at them—

“Hongjoong… I hope you’re happy by the way. I don’t want you to hate me… not hate anyone from the apartment even if you don’t consider it your home” she said and I sighed. I didn't at first… I hated you, thought you were another hybrid collector, another consumer who’d enjoy the stupid two-hour show of the circus. 

“I really do… I like my new home and I’ll do anything to protect it even if that means going against my own species” I said while looking up at the two hybrids… though I knew it wouldn’t make sense to her. 

“I just hope you don’t feel like the beginning where you hated me” she said softly and I smiled. 

“I don’t think I could hate you… I was wrong about you so let’s just go home”

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

#ateez #ateez x female reader #ateez circus #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #yunho smut #ateez yeosang #yeosang x reader #yeosang smut #ateez san #san x reader #san smut #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #ateez mingi #mingi x reader #mingi smut #ateez jongho #jongho x reader #jongho smut

[pinkflower2003]

You are actually so talented. I’m addicted to reading your stuff. If you what to write a slightly more angsty one maybe could be a pt.2 to one of the pregnancy ones that Y/N has the baby and then starts struggling with postnatal anxiety and just can’t keep her eyes of the baby so driver comforts her and helps her even though she’s being a stubborn first time mum 😅

Baby Blues

Charles Leclerc x Reader

a/n: thank you so much that is the sweetest thing ever, you guys literally make me wanna cry omg🥹 i hope this is okay! thank you so much for your submission<3

The soft glow of the afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm light on the nursery. You sat in the rocking chair, cradling your newborn daughter in your arms. The room was quiet, save for the gentle creaking of the chair and the occasional coo from the baby. Despite the serenity, a storm of anxiety churned within you.

As a first-time mother, the overwhelming love you felt for your daughter was matched by an equally overwhelming sense of fear. What if something went wrong? What if you weren’t enough? You couldn’t keep your eyes off her, afraid that if you looked away for even a second, something terrible might happen.

Charles Leclerc, your partner and the love of your life, had been nothing but supportive since the birth. But as days turned into weeks, he noticed the change in you. The way you barely slept, constantly checking on the baby, the way your hands trembled whenever you weren’t holding her.

One afternoon, Charles found you in the nursery again, your eyes fixed on the sleeping baby. He approached quietly, his heart aching at the sight of your exhaustion.

"Y/N," he said softly, kneeling beside you. "You need to rest."

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can’t, Charles. What if something happens?"

He reached out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. "Nothing will happen. She’s safe. You need to take care of yourself too."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, the worry and fear evident in your expression. "I’m scared, Charles. What if I’m not doing this right?"

Charles cupped your face in his hands, his gaze steady and reassuring. "You’re doing an amazing job. You’re the best mother our daughter could ever have. But you don’t have to do this alone. Let me help you."

You wanted to believe him, but the anxiety was a relentless force. "I just…I can’t stop thinking about all the things that could go wrong."

He pulled you into a gentle embrace, his touch soothing. "I know it’s hard. But we’re in this together."

Charles took the baby from your arms, cradling her with practiced ease. "Why don’t you lie down for a bit? I’ll watch her."

You hesitated, your eyes lingering on your daughter. "What if she needs me?"

"I’ll be right here," Charles assured you. "And if she needs anything, I’ll wake you up. I promise."

Reluctantly, you agreed, allowing Charles to guide you to the bedroom. As you lay down, he sat beside you, holding your hand. "Close your eyes, amour. Just rest for a little while."

For the first time in days, you allowed yourself to relax, Charles’s presence a comforting anchor. Gradually, exhaustion took over, and you drifted into a restless sleep.

When you awoke, the room was dim, and you could hear the soft murmur of Charles’s voice from the nursery. You got up quietly and peeked through the door. Charles was sitting in the rocking chair, the baby cradled against his chest as he hummed a gentle tune.

He looked up and saw you, a tender smile spreading across his face. "Hey, you’re awake. How do you feel?"

You walked in, feeling a bit more rested but still anxious. "Better, I think."

Charles stood up, walking over to you with the baby. "She’s been fine. You’ve been fine. And you will be fine. But you need to take it one day at a time."

Tears filled your eyes again, but this time they were tears of gratitude. "Thank you, Charles. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

He kissed your forehead, his touch filled with love and reassurance. "You’ll never have to find out. We’re a team, remember? We’ll get through this together."

From that moment, things started to change. It wasn’t easy, and there were still days when the anxiety threatened to overwhelm you. But with Charles by your side, you found the strength to face it. He was there for the late-night feedings, the endless diaper changes, and the moments when you felt like you couldn’t go on.

And slowly, you began to trust in yourself as a mother. You started to believe that you were enough, that you could keep your daughter safe and happy. And through it all, Charles was your rock, your constant source of comfort and support.

#formula one imagine #f1 imagine #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #baby imagine

[uzurakis]

hi hi it’s me again!! (yes I’m the nonnie w/the stalker request + ‘my friend thinks ur cute’ request :3) I’m here to request again!! reckless!reader with jjk men (yuta n Megumi yk the deal 🙏🙏) + bonus points if reader hides their injuries too! maybe reader was on a mission; got injured and didn’t tell jjk men, or reader was playing around on a frozen lake not giving af and it begins to crack, or reader straight up doesn’t look both ways while crossing the street n act like they have 9 lives (yuta ptsd fr 😭), or anything you wanna come up with :3 do what you like!

HIDING YOUR INJURIES FROM THEM?

featuring: gojo satoru. fushiguro megumi. yuuta okkotsu. itadori yuuji.

n. i sure know the deal my beloved meguyuta nonnie (imma call u dat instead). i decided to go with the first idea of yours, i hope that’s okay!

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. you returned from a challenging mission, your body aching with every step. despite the pain gnawing at you, you plastered on a smile as you entered the room where megumi was waiting. he looked up, concern etched across his features.

fushiguro megumi has the term ‘worry’ in his vocabulary. he immediately called out, "you…” without saying any ‘hey’s or ‘hi’s, you were able to cut him off with your response. 

"it went alright, just a few scrapes," you replied, trying to downplay the severity of your injuries

but megumi wasn't fooled. his brows furrowed as he approached you, his eyes scanning your form. “you’re lying,” megumi grabbed your wrist firmly as he looked straight into your eyes. "those 'scrapes' look more like serious wounds," he said, you could literally hear him edged with frustration.

you swallowed, guilt creeping into your chest. "i’m fine," you confessed, avoiding his gaze and breaking free from his grip.

megumi sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "you're injured, and you’re still trying to hide it from me? seriously?" he scolded, frustration becoming more evident.

“fine then.”

he looked away, and you felt a twinge of regret at the way he responded. but then there was a change in his attitude. as he reached for the first aid kit, his demeanor softened and his irritation vanished. silently, he whispered, "let's get you patched up," megumi’s voice was soft yet stiff.

as he tended to your wounds in silence, the tension in the room dissipated. his touch was tender, his movements careful as he bandaged your injuries. when he finished, he looked up, green pupils meeting yours.

"you make me worry, you know that?" 

ITADORI YUUJI. you stumbled through the door, trying to hide the wince as pain shot through your side. itadori was waiting, his eyes lighting up as he saw you, but then furrowing with concern as he noticed your slight limp.

"baby, you're back! how did it go?" he asked.

you forced a smile, trying to brush off the pain. "good, thank god it was just a second grade curse," you replied, hoping he wouldn't see through your facade.

your boyfriend, though, remained unconvinced. "are you sure you're alright? you’re limping.”

you hesitated, but his genuine concern melted away your resolve. you felt bad for keeping it from him, but at last you said, "well, there might be a small injury, but it's nothing serious." 

instantly, itadori's expression softened, and he wrapped you in a tight hug that made you let out a small ouch. "don't hide these things from me," his breath warm against your ear. “let me help you tend your injuries, baby. do you need shoko or just an aid kit?”

GOJO SATORU. the mission had been tougher than anticipated, but you knew gojo would worry if he saw how badly you were hurt. so you played pretend and hoped it would be enough. gojo was lounging on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, his usual smirk playing on his lips. his eyes, hidden behind his pitch black glasses, seemed to twinkle as he looked up at you. "oi, you're back earlier than i expected."

you nodded, keeping your movements slow and controlled. "yeah, managed to wrap things up quicker than i thought." he tilted his head, a curious glint in his eye. "really? no trouble at all?"

"none," you lied, forcing a laugh. "just the usual."

gojo's smile faltered, just for a second, but you caught it. he stood up and sauntered over to you, his gaze never leaving your face. "hey, you know," he began, voice dropping to a lower, more serious tone, "i can see right through you, babe. you're hurt."

"i'm okay, satoru. really."

he reached out, gently but firmly taking your arm. "don't lie to me." his fingers brushed against a particularly sore spot, and you winced despite yourself. “look?”

"satoru, i didn't want you to worry—“

he cut you off, his grip tightening just enough to keep you still without causing more pain. "hm, too late for that, baby," he said with a mix of irritation and concern. "let me take care of you."

you sighed, realizing there was no point in hiding it anymore. "okay, but just... be gentle, alright?"

he led you to the couch, his touch surprisingly tender as he helped you sit down. "i'm always gentle," he teased, but his eyes were serious as he examined your injuries. "you should've told me right away."

YUUTA OKKOTSU. he eyed you for a moment, his smile fading slightly. "babe, you alright? you seem a bit... off."

"just tired. it's been a long day." you waved a hand dismissively, nothing to worry, you wanted to tell him that.

yet, yuuta's gaze still lingered on you, eyes narrowing slightly. "alright," he said slowly, "if you say so."

you made your way to the bathroom, trying to move naturally despite the pain. you thought you had managed to convince him, but as you stood in front of the stall, trying to remove your clothes without aggravating your injuries, the man appeared in the doorway.

"let me help you with that," he said softly, moving to stand beside you.

you blinked, surprised. "yuuta, really, i'm fine. you don't have to—”" then he gently took your hand, eyes full of concern. "please, let me help you tend your wounds, babe.”

thinking again, you hadn't said anything about being hurt, but somehow he knew. "how did you..”

your boyfriend smiled faintly. "i could tell. i know you too well." his fingers brushed lightly over a bruise that was starting to show through your shirt. "you don't have to hide it from me."

you sighed, feeling a mix of relief and resignation. "i just didn't want you to worry."

yuuta shook his head, his expression tender. "i worry more when you try to hide things from me. so don’t do it again, you hear me, babe?”

@uzurakis

#.writing #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fluff #megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo fluff #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori yuuji #itadori fluff #yuuji x you #yuuji fluff #okkotsu yuuta x you #okkotsu yuuta #okkotsu yuuta x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta fluff #geto suguru x reader #nanami kento x reader #toji x reader

[buckactuallys]

18 or 25 for the relationship prompts? 💗💗💗

hi and thank you for the prompt! sorry this took me so very long to write, but i hope you like it anyway 💕

18. brushing through the other's hair while talking/25. feeding each other their food

[read on ao3]

It’s a slow shift. Not from the beginning, they get called out plenty in the morning, but the afternoon is slow already and now it’s 9pm and they haven’t had a call since before dinner. 

All the chores are done, everything is clean and fully stocked and put away. 

Bobby is in his office with some paperwork, but he insisted that he doesn’t need any help before heading downstairs. 

No one was in the mood to play a game or anything, so they’re just sort of lounging around the loft, an action movie playing on TV that no one’s really paying attention to. Hen and Chim are on the armchairs, but they’re turned mostly away from the TV, their focus on each other and Buck, and the conversation the three of them are having.

Beside Buck, Eddie keeps sinking lower in his seat until his head eventually comes to rest on Buck’s shoulder. Buck shoots him a fond look and lifts the hand that’s currently on the backrest of the couch to scratch at Eddie’s scalp gently. 

Eddie makes a soft noise and rubs his cheek against Buck’s shoulder like a cat, which Buck takes as encouragement to keep going.

It’s fine – they agreed to keep this on the low for a bit (not really a secret, but they’re not telling anyone yet either. Well, except for Chris, because that would’ve felt like lying, and Bobby, because they didn’t want to risk anything by keeping secrets from the brass), but so far no one’s even looked at them twice. Buck has had his arm slung over the back of the couch and essentially around Eddie for ages now, and no one’s said a word.

They’ve always been close after all, and for the last three weeks, they’ve slowly been adding more little touches to the list of things they do, like a head on the other’s shoulder, or, like today, Buck’s hand in Eddie’s hair. 

It’s been kind of fun finding out what they can get away with before anyone figures them out. 

He keeps combing his fingers through Eddie’s hair absently while talking to Hen and Chimney, and it’s easy like this. 

With his last relationship, with Tommy, they made it public so quickly kind of accidentally, but it was fine, because there wasn’t that much at stake. Sure, it doubled as his coming out to a lot of people, but Buck’s glad that happened so organically and without him having time to overthink or worry.

With Eddie, the situation is completely different. There’s so much at stake for them, everything, that they felt safer keeping it between themselves for a few weeks, to see how they adjust to this change. The two of them – and Christopher.

But it’s been three weeks now, and things have been great, so it’s okay if they want to be a bit more open with it. And Buck wants.

Ever since he realized how he feels about Eddie, about seven minutes before he kissed him for the first time, he’s been wanting to shout his love for him from the rooftops. It hasn’t been easy keeping that in, and his hands to himself.

So it’s easy, letting himself be a little bit more affectionate with Eddie like this, up here in the loft of their fire station, with their friends.

The low hum Eddie lets out and the relaxed lines of his body pressing against Buck’s tell him that he feels the same way. And if anyone asks – that’s fine, they’re ready to share whenever it happens.

But Hen just keeps telling her story about the latest shenanigans Denny and Mara have gotten up to, pretending to be annoyed by them even though it’s obvious she loves that they’re getting along this well. Chimney chimes in with stories from his and Kevin’s childhood, and Buck occasionally shares something he did as a kid just to shock Hen.

“You’re not hanging out with my kids unsupervised,” she says after he finishes telling them about a prank he and some other boys played on a teacher, and gets up from her chair. “I’m making popcorn. You guys want some, too?”

“Yes, please,” Eddie says sleepily from Buck’s shoulder, raising his hand.

Buck smiles at him, endeared, and squeezes the back of his neck gently. Without looking up, he tells Hen, “I–I’ll take some too, thanks, Hen.”

“You know if it’s there, I’ll eat it,” Chimney says. His chair creaks when he stands up too. “I’ll help you.”

The two of them head to the kitchen, bickering quietly, and Buck takes the opportunity to turn his head, brushing his nose along Eddie’s forehead and pressing a kiss to his brow.

“Tired, sweetheart?”

“A little,” Eddie mumbles, turning further into Buck, his knee pressed to the side of Buck’s thigh. “And you’re comfortable.”

“I’m not complaining,” Buck says, and starts combing his fingers through Eddie’s hair at the back of his head again. “Just say the word and we can go to the bunkroom.”

“No, I want the popcorn now,” Eddie says, blinking his eyes open. “I’m awake.”

Buck laughs and kisses his temple. “If you say so.”

Hen and Chim return with the popcorn not much later, and their conversation has moved on to a movie Buck hasn’t seen, so he’s happy to just sit back, one hand always on Eddie, listen to their familiar voices, and snack on his popcorn.

“Gimme some of that,” Eddie says quietly, jerking his chin towards the popcorn in Buck’s hand.

“The bowl is right there,” Buck says, but he’s already extending his hand.

Eddie gives him a smile that makes butterflies erupt in his stomach and brushes his fingers along Buck’s hand while he grabs some of the popcorn. “Thanks.”

Buck rolls his eyes, but they both know it’s just for show.

The next time he reaches for the bowl, he pops some in his mouth and offers the rest to Eddie, holding it between two fingers.

Instead of taking it from him, Eddie leans forward and eats it straight from Buck’s fingers, lips wrapped around them for just a second that’s enough to make his entire body go hot, especially his face.

Hen and Chimney stop talking.

Eddie looks at Buck like everything is completely normal, then turns to Chimney and Hen to ask, “What?”

“What is up with you two tonight?” Chimney asks, exasperated. “You got something to tell us?”

Eddie shrugs, jostling Buck a little. His eyes practically sparkle, shining with mischief when he turns to Buck, and Buck loves him so much. “I don’t know, Buck, do we? Do you know what he’s talking about?”

“You’ve basically been,” Hen makes an impatient gesture that encompasses both of them on the couch, “fucking cuddling for an hour. And now you’re feeding each other popcorn? You’re always all over each other, but this is…different.”

“Well, I didn’t expect Eddie to eat it like that, either,” Buck says, and blushes even more when Eddie just winks at him.

“Chim, I never want us to be the kind of best friends they are,” Hen says, and Buck makes the mistake of meeting Eddie’s eye, both of them bursting into laughter.

“I sure hope you won’t, since you’re both married,” Eddie wheezes, and Buck descends into laughter again.

“What does that have to–” Chim pauses. “Hold on.”

“Oh, they’re getting there,” Buck says in a stage whisper, reaching out to wipe a tear from the corner of Eddie’s eye.

Eddie catches his hand on the way back and presses a kiss to his palm before tangling their fingers.

Both Hen and Chimney are gaping at them, and Hen calls out weakly, “Cap, are you seeing this?”

“Yep,” Bobby’s amused voice wafts over from the kitchen. Buck didn’t even hear him come back. “But they told me three weeks ago already.”

“What!” Hen yelps, and Chimney shakes his head like a wet dog, looking beyond confused.

“So are you saying– you’re really—” His eyes flick down to their hands, then back up to their faces, moving rapidly from Buck to Eddie and back.

“Together?” Eddie asks. “Yeah.”

“Since when!” Hen demands, and she somehow looks both appalled and delighted. “How did this happen? How did I miss this?”

“I guess you just didn’t know what to look for,” Buck says, turning his head to smile at Eddie. “I can relate to that.”

#buddie #911fic #buddie fic #911 fic #911 abc #pia writes #ask #kitteneddiediaz

[xzhdjsj]

Us Against the World

Kayson x Reader

Picking up the last of your belongings from your parents' house.

"Hurry up!" Kayson whines.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

"I'm coming! I'm literally trying to tie my shoes." You yell back at him, hopping out the door as you adjust the tongue of your shoe in haste. "Okay okay I'm ready."

Kayson intertwines his fingers in yours, as you walk to his car updating him on your thesis.

"I think I'll be done soon." You say, looking up at him with a hopeful smile.

"I'm sure you will." He squeezed your hand reassuringly then opened the door for you.

You slide into the passenger seat of his car, securing yourself in with the seatbelt. Before Kayson starts the engine, he turns to you, concern evident in his eyes., "You sure you're gonna be okay with this?"

"Yeah, I feel…” You take a breath, “Nervous, but I can do this."

"And I'll be right there when you need me." He assures you and leans over to plant a kiss on your forehead.

The drive to your parent's house was a concoction of anticipation and silent contemplation. You quietly think of what you'll say to them or how you’ll face them, while Kayson hums along to the radio. His hand never leaves yours, gently rubbing small circles on the back of your hand, a silent gesture of comfort.

As the car slows down and the familiar house comes into view, you can feel the tension building in your chest. With a quick glance at him, you muster up a small, nervous smile before reaching for the door handle and Kayson finally lets go of your hand.

"I'll wait here," Kayson says softly, his voice laced with understanding as he senses your apprehension. You nod in gratitude, eyes softening in appreciation for his support. With a deep breath, you step out of the car and make your way to the front door.

Facing your parents was awkward and uncomfortable. The disappointment in their eyes was unavoidable, preying on you as you walked through their door. You mutter a quick greeting and make your way straight to your room, or what was your room at least.

It was hard to just let go of it all, your entire childhood resides in this room. Everything you ever collected, created, and cherished is here, a tangible reminder of a past that felt like both a dream and nightmare. Similarly, this room was both an escape and prison. You spent most of your time in here, tirelessly working to make them proud.

 It’s easier to see through events when you grow and realise how wrong they were. For years you’ve been pressured into being a ‘perfect’ child for you parents, it’s how you grew up and it was all you knew, but now you’ve finally been given an opportunity to break away from their ideals and forge a life of your own and you intend to take full advantage of that. Everything has changed, and while you can still reflect on your past, having every tangible piece of it isn’t necessary.

You gathered the last bits of clothes, books, and other miscellaneous items into a bag. Every trophy, medal, and award you owned stayed behind, neatly lined on the shelves as they are now. It was nice to look at them, but as much as they remind you of how hard you’ve worked, they also served as reminder of the expectations your parents had set for you throughout your life.

With one last look, you gently pulled the door closed behind you. You make your way down the stairs, and your parents are no longer in the living room. As much as you’d like to slip away without them seeing you again, you walked over to the kitchen to say goodbye.

“I’ve gotten everything I needed. I’ll be going now.” You hesitate to look up at them.

“So that’s it?” Your father's arms are folded across his chest, his expression expectant, while your mother stands silently beside him, her gaze heavy with unspoken disappointment. You can feel the weight of their eyes bearing down on you, suffocating you.

“Uh yeah, I guess so. There isn’t anything else I need.” You respond, a flat tone as you braced yourself for their onslaught of criticism.

“Don’t be foolish, you’ll be back here before you know it.” He sneers, contempt evident in his voice.

“I won’t.” You mutter. There’s no reason to argue or waste your energy. No reason until he continues-

“Really? How long do you think he can keep distracting you from what you need to do?” He barks at you, “You should be focusing on what really matters- school and getting a job.”

“Insult me all you want but leave Kayson out of this. He is not a distraction.” You retort, anger simmering under your skin, threatening to boil over.

“Honey, your father has a point,” Your mother interjects softly. “How long do you think you’ll be able to live with him? I mean, it’s not even his own place.”

“I don’t see how that would matters right now. We have a place to stay, and we do plan on getting somewhere of our own in the future.” The frustration creeps into your voice.

“And who’ll pay for that, huh?” Your father’s voice raises, his tone accusatory. “Most likely you. When you get a job and he’ll be living off you.”

“What on earth are you talking about? Kayson has a job, you both know this!” You protest.

“Sweetie he’s just a waiter, how much could he possibly be making? I don’t think nearly enough to support yourselves.” Your mother adds, only to be cut off by your father again.

“Forget that! When you finally start making enough, you’ll be taking care of him! Like he’s- like he’s your child or something.”

Your jaws clench and you fight the urge to lash out at your father. His words strike a protective nerve, and you were ready to defend Kayson to the very end. But as you open your mouth to speak, a floorboard creaks behind you and everyone’s attention is turned to the sound.

Kayson.

“I was uhm” He shifts uncomfortably, looking between your parents and you. “I wanted to see if you were done. Sorry, I’ll wait for you outside.”

“Kayson…” You called out to him, but he quickly made his way out the door. Your heart broke at the thought of him having to hear such things about himself.

“Let me ask you this,” You turn back to your parents, keeping your voice steady despite the turmoil within. “What if the roles were reversed? What if I was the one that made less and subsequently had to live off Kayson’s earnings?”

Your parents exchange a glance, caught off guard by your question. The tension in the room hangs thick, the air heavy with unspoken implications.

"I don't know, that- that would be different," your father finally responds, his voice lacking its previous forcefulness.

"Is it?" You challenge, your gaze unwavering. "Would you be saying the same things if that was the case? Would you still see him as a burden?"

Your mother shifts uncomfortably, her eyes avoiding yours as she struggles to find a response. "We just want what's best for you, sweetheart," she murmurs.

“Then maybe you have your ideas skewed, because if you think I was better here than I am with Kayson, you’re both horribly wrong.”

With those words hanging in the air, heavy with defiance and conviction, you turn on your heel and storm out of the room. The door slams shut behind you, the sound echoing through the house like a thunderclap.

Outside, you find Kayson leaning against his car, smoke wafting around him but he discards the cigarette upon seeing you. He falls into your arms as you approach him, his face buried into your neck to hide the tears that threaten his eyes.

“I’m so sorry you had to hear that Kay.” You sighed, kissing his hair. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I just… I wasn’t expecting it.” He murmurs, soft and sad. “You don’t think I’m a burden, do you?”

“Kayson.” You push his shoulders, creating some space between your bodies so he’s facing you. “No, never. You’re none of those awful things they said about you! I mean they don’t even know you, how would they be able to see the person I see? You’re amazing and, to be honest, who gives a shit if you work for less than me or become my househusband? I don’t see anything wrong with that and I think your and my opinion is the only two that matters on this subject.”

His lips curl into a small, broken smile and he hugs you again. “Just us against the world, huh?

“Yeah, just us against the world.” You hug him back, squeezing him as close to you as you can.

“Come on, let’s go home.” You urge as your arms loosened around each other. “It’s been a log day and I think we deserve the evening to ourselves.”

-

#uhhhh does this count as angst? #i did make it up in the end sooooo #zsakuva #sakuverse #asmr #kayson mayer #zsakuva kayson #kayson x reader

[theartofprongs]

Lily's Yearbook

"Sev does Hogwarts publish yearbooks every year?" Lily asks curiously from her spot at the library table.

Severus, who has taken up residence in the seat directly next to Lily, pointedly ignoring the other two Gryffindors at the table, grimaces at Lily's question.

"No Lily, that's a muggle tradition, why would we need such a thing?" Snape shakes his head tersely before pushing his nose farther into his Potions book.

Lily shrugs and hums lightly, "I guess I just think yearbooks are brilliant, oh! Especially the signing! Everyone leaves messages for each other and you get to look through them all summer."

Lily's eyes sparkle with excitement at the prospect of receiving handwritten notes from all of her dearest friend's at Hogwarts, ones that she can re-read during her time away from the magical world.

"Lily I'd forgotten all about yearbooks, it would be so wonderful if Hogwarts had them!" Little Mary Macdonald squeals from across the library table, her smile gleaming.

Marlene also perks up at Lily's excitement, "What's a yearbook?"

These new interjections cause the lone Slytherin tucked into the corner of the table to let out an annoyed huff, "Lily I cannot study here any longer, can we go somewhere that is actually quiet?" Snape directs his sneer at the two girls across from them.

Lily looks over at her two friends, who both have varying looks of disdain now plastered on their eleven year old faces.

"Sure Sev, I'll see you guys at dinner, Okay? Save me a seat if I'm late?" Lily quickly packs her books into her bag so that she can catch up with an already exiting Severus Snape.

"Oh, he is such a git, I don't understand why Lily puts up with that," Marlene snaps, "He doesn't even want her hanging out with people from her own house."

Mary nods in agreement, watching as the two finally disappear out through the library doors. There's a loud echo as the doors slowly close, and then Mary suddenly turns towards Marlene with wild eyes.

"I think I have an idea."

Marlene snorts, "An idea? That's a new one for you."

Mary gasps over dramatically at Marlene's quip, but continues smiling, "No Marly, we're gonna get Lily those signatures, like the ones in a yearbook, so that she can read our notes while she's stuck with him all summer."

"Wow Mary, you do put together some good ideas here and there!"

First year, 1971-1972.

Second year, 1972-1973.

Third year, 1973-1974.

Fourth year, 1974-1975.

Fifth year, 1975-1976.

Sixth year, 1976-1977.

Seventh Year, 1977-1978.

This was a lot of fun for me to do, but it also took me a while to get everything how I wanted. You'll notice that as they get older their handwriting (and for some even their writing utencils) change and grow with them. There are a few different themes and relationships going on throughout this whole thing so I hope you enjoy all the little easter eggs. Also you'll notice that it is heavily smudged and (wet?) even in some places, that's because I tried to make it seem as though it was pulled from an archive, whether from Lily's belongings or even Hogwarts. Let me know if you can't read anything specific and I'll tell you what it says. It's not perfect but I'm very proud of it!

#the marauders #hp marauders #ignore any typos #lily evans #possible foreshadowing #marauders #i actually love this #this is so silly #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #jily #hogwarts

[sh4wty18]

song about me.

VERY loosely inspired by 'song about me' by tv girl.

pairing: johnnie guilbert x reader

summary: over a month after your breakup, johnnie writes a song about you. upon listening to it, you decide to confront him.

cw: angst, fluff, language

word count: 1.9k + edited

---

Your best friend eagerly asks, “Have you heard it?” over the phone, to which you reply, “have I heard what, exactly?”

“Johnnie’s new song… it’s totally about you!” she clarifies.

You scoff, “There’s no way it’s about me, girl.”

You had broken up with Johnnie over a month ago. After nearly a year and a half of dating, you’d finally grown tired of his constant workload. It wasn’t his being busy that bothered you, it was the excuses he used. Every time you’d ask to hang out, he’d surely have some type of excuse as to why he couldn’t. Your entire relationship hadn’t been like this, either, which made his sudden change in behavior even more confusing and frustrating. The excuses and avoidance had only begun in the final three months of your relationship. You had tried to communicate with him, you’d asked him countless times what was wrong, if you’d done something to upset him, or how you could help him if he was struggling. He never opened up. He’d offer you one of his recycled excuses each time, “Nothing’s wrong babe, I just need to be alone tonight.” or “Not tonight, I’m too tired.” or “I’ve been busy all day, I can’t handle company right now.” Same excuse, different wording. 

After three months of this constant battle, and an inability to get through to him, you finally decided to break things off. At least you couldn’t say you didn’t try. You had tried more than anything to make it work with Johnnie. When you’d first gotten together, you were sure he was the one. Evidently, things changed, although you hadn’t wanted them to. 

“No girl, it’s definitely about you. Like… he’s down bad. You need to listen to it right now.” your best friend continues, “don’t you still miss him?”

“Ha! No. But I’ll listen to it and let you know what I think,” you lie through your teeth. Of course you still missed him. You loved him more than anyone, and breaking up with him was the hardest thing you’ve ever done. But it was necessary, and it was the right thing to do. The relationship was becoming unhealthy– for both of you. You loved Johnnie, and still do, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t need to grow as a person. You figured you needed to grow too. 

You had told him the day you broke up with him that you’d always appreciate your time together, and that if the two of you were meant to be, you trusted the universe to bring you back together. He had only nodded, as silent tears dampened his cheeks. That was the last thing you’d said to him. You left him there, alone in his bedroom after that. It was your biggest regret.

He hadn’t reached out since then, so you assumed he’d moved on, and you were trying to do the same. It wasn’t working. Nothing did. You missed him. You missed him like the sun misses the moon, like how the sea longs for the sand, you missed him day and night. You missed him at work, at the bar with your friends, you missed him in your dreams. It was an all encompassing heartbreak. You hoped you hid it well. 

“You totally miss him…” your best friend said knowingly. “It’s okay, I get it. You thought he was the love of your life, it sucks! And it’s only been a month! No one, like, expects you to be fine.” 

You exhale, “Thanks…” not knowing what else to say, “I’ll talk to you later.” 

After hanging up, you click on the Spotify icon and type Johnnie’s name into the search bar. 

LATEST RELEASE:

Losing You ⏺ Single

You press play, and are instantly met with a soft melody, most likely played on his acoustic guitar, with some added background instrumentals. Upon listening to the lyrics, you can tell the song is definitely about you.

And I understand why you left, it was for the best.

But did you even care? Or was I just too much to bare?

I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, will we ever heal the rift?

Now I’m stitching up my wounds, but what I really need is you.

Hot tears sting your eyes. The song was beautiful, but hurt you. Suddenly you realize that you can’t keep pretending to be fine anymore. Maybe, you decided, it was time to go talk to him.

—

You knock on Jake, Johnnie, and Carrington’s door, half expecting one of the other two to answer, but you noticed upon arrival that Jake’s car was absent from the driveway. At least you could have some privacy during your confrontation, you supposed. 

To your surprise, Johnnie answered on the second knock. 

He jolts back a couple inches, shock washing over his face, “Hi…” 

“Hi. Can I come in?” You ask.

He hesitates, taking all of you in, eyes wandering up and down your body. He hasn’t seen you in over a month, and he wanted to refresh his memory of every curve, every freckle, every loose strand of hair. He had missed your body, but more than anything, he missed you. All of you. “Yeah, sure, of course,” he responds. 

“Thanks,” you mumble. 

You step inside, taking him in as well. His tattoos, some of which you didn’t recognize, his hair swept in front of his face, his makeup, everything. He looked good, you’d almost forgotten how handsome he was. You also took in the house that you knew so well. Being inside it again was like visiting your own grave. 

“Can we go upstairs?” You ask.

“Sure…” Johnnie responds, furrowing his eyebrows nervously. You hated seeing him like this, nervous and unsure of himself. You wanted to make him feel good again, you hoped it wasn’t too late, (even though you were kind of mad at him too).

You both sit awkwardly on the edge of his bed after he closes and locks his door to offer you both some privacy. 

“So… what’s up?” He asks.

“What do you think is up, Johnnie?” You ask, trying to maintain your composure. “You wrote a song about me, without asking. You aired our dirty laundry out for EVERYONE to hear. You made it seem like I left you stranded?! What the fuck?” 

“You DID leave me stranded! It just wasn’t your fault! I was in a super dark place during the last bit of our relationship. Those last three months were hell. I was going through it, like super depressed and shit. But instead of being a grown ass adult and confiding in you like a normal boyfriend would, I pushed you away. Our breakup was all my fault. You left me stranded because I gave you no choice.” 

“I’m so sorry that you were going through that alone, Johnnie. But it wasn’t my responsibility to save you. And believe me, I tried.” 

“I never said it was.” Johnnie says with a hurt look on his face. 

“Yeah, but you pushed me away so much, you made me feel like you didn’t love me anymore. And it’s so hard watching the person you love most suffer and knowing there’s nothing you can do to save them. Knowing that no matter what I did, you’d refuse me. ME. The one person you’re supposed to trust more than anyone. It was fucking exhausting Johnnie. Emotionally and physically. I couldn’t fucking eat, I couldn’t sleep, all I did was worry about you. And deep down I knew you needed to do it alone. Even though it hurt me more than anything to leave you.” 

“I'm so sorry I put you through that. I know I was shit. I am shit. But I’m trying, y/n. I’m really fucking trying. I’m seeing a therapist again, trying to get out more. I wrote that song because it was cathartic. I’m sorry I crossed a line.” 

“Thank you, Johnnie, but you’re not shit. You’re actually one of the best people I’ve ever met. That’s why it hurts so badly to see you like that. You deserve better, you deserve happiness and love and everything you’ve ever wanted. You’re worth it. And the song was really pretty by the way… I love it. Yeah, I was pissed you wrote it without my permission but I think it was just ‘cause I knew everything you said in it was true. It’s beautiful,” You respond, standing up and pulling him up by his hand. You wrap your arms around his waist in the biggest, tightest hug you’ve ever given him. You missed the way his body molded into yours. He held your body against his, neither of you wanting to let go. 

Johnnie is the first to break away, but only to gaze down at you lovingly. 

“What is it?” You ask, as it’s evident he has something he wants to say. “You know you can still tell me anything, right?”

“It’s just… I didn’t just write the song for catharsis. I wrote it because I couldn’t wait for the universe anymore,” he says, avoiding eye contact with you.

“What?” You ask, slightly caught off guard. Of course, you knew exactly what he was referring to, but you wanted to hear him say it. 

“The day you broke up with me, the last thing you said to me was that if we were meant to be you trusted the universe to bring us back together. I don’t need the universe to tell me you’re the love of my life, I already know it. Y/n, I would die for you. I would lose everything for you. You’re the one. I took you for granted before and I never, ever wanna put you through that again. You deserve the world, and I fucked everything up. I totally understand if you walk out that door and never look back but I couldn’t let you leave without telling you that you’re the person I think about every night as I’m falling to sleep and every morning when I wake up. It’s always gonna be you for me.” He stops, gazing into your eyes. Your expression is unreadable, mostly because you’re too stunned to say anything back. “Say something please, or I’m gonna-”

You cut him off, pressing your lips to his on your tiptoes. He pulls you in tighter by your waist, while your hands fly up to tangle in his hair. He rotates your bodies and pushes you back onto the bed, before straddling you, your kiss getting messier by the second. 

Johnnie breaks away, tears staining his cheeks, “I’m sorry.” He whispers.

You caress his cheek with your palm, drying his tears, “It’s okay, baby.” 

He gently presses his lips to your forehead, cheeks, jaw, neck, hands, anywhere he can reach, breathing out, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” between each kiss. 

You pull his head up to gaze up at him, and he still looks indescribably pained. “Hey,” you pull his head to yours to kiss his forehead, “I never stopped loving you, and I never will. You mean everything to me. Whatever comes next, promise me you’ll always confide in me. Even when you’re scared. Even when you feel like shit. Even when it’s hard. We can’t promise to never hurt each other again, because that’s bound to happen. But can we promise to always communicate with each other?”

“Of course, baby. God, you’re so fucking good to me.” He lays down next to you and holds your neck with one hand, tilting your head towards his. Your noses brush together and you both exhale a sigh of relief. You’d never leave each other again.

---

as always i hope you enjoyed and likes & reblogs are always appreciated! <3

#sh4wty18 #original one shot #one shot #fluff #original fiction #fluffy one shot #angst oneshot #angst #angst with a happy ending #johnnie x you #johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert fanfic #johnnie x reader #johnnie guilbert one shot #johnnie guilbert

[jocelynscrazyideas]

If only you knew. | Quinn Hughes x Reader

Summary: before Quinn left you, yiu had a life changing suprise to tell him. Unfortunately, you guys broke up before you had the chance to tell him.

Warnings: pregnancy? That’s it!?

A:N- it’s really short, um.. sorry but I’m having like mega writers block. I’m thinking if finishing my John marino fluff that’s been requested but it’s gonna tell a bit. Sorry again!!

What’s next? GIVE ME SOME IDEAS PLSS IM ON WROTERS BLOCK😢

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Quinn and I just browk up, and he has found another girlfriend. It’s been exactly three weeks from the end of our three year relationship. I’m heartbroken.

I was walking out of the doctors room after my weekly appointment. Quinn my ex boyfriend had just broken up with me. Not for any crazy reason, just simply he wanted to focus on his career.

Now I said it wasn’t a crazy reason, but I do believe it was a stupid one. I think he needs someone in his life that will always be there for him to ask for help, get support and can cuddle with at night. Obviously that SOMONE has to be me. But he happy with his new lady.

Obviously, his brothers are his number ones, but romanticly…

~

“I would never leave you. If anything, youre the one to break my heart. I need you in my life, you keep me responsible and safe. I feel loved everytime I look at you.”

-said the “love of my life” Quinn Hughes

~

I undertsand perspective changes, and opinions are not going to stay the same, but he truly meant it. I know he felt it was a stupid thing to say. I just hope him the best, I hipe he finds a good strong loving women.

The real reason Quinn and I broke up wasn’t because of his career but his personal relationship within his mental state, he wasn’t ready for kids, and I was. He wasn’t ready to be captain for a year and have an actual job at home as well.

Mainly, yes it was his career that was stopping him but at least he got what he wanted… right?

~

I just came back from an appointment agian, I tried to call Quinn.

First time he didn’t pick up, second time… well he picked up but he didn’t wnat to talk to me.

“I can’t right now y/n. I just can’t. I’m busy.”

“Okay, sorry Quinn.”

Or:

“Not the time.”

“…”

Did it hurt me deep down? Yes. But I have to respect him. I called him for the last time.

“Quinn-“

“What! Seriously y/n, I can’t right now.”

“I’m pregnant.”

~

He didn’t respond, so I hung up. If I wnat a father to my child, I better find one that wants to be a dad, Quinn doesn’t want kids, so I must let him go.

But if only he knew that he was the love of my life, and he was gonna be a good father.

#jocelynscrazyideas #hockey #nhl #quinn hughes #vancouver canucks #nhl fic #hockey blurb #be safe and use protection #captain quinn #🍇🍇🍇

[tonysbed]

Blue poison | OP81

Oscar Piastri x Fem!reader

!Triggering content! OCD!

Warnings: mention of OCD, mention of blood/blisters, mention of therapy

Summary: Oscar has been away for a triple header, not being able to be there for you.What happens once he is finally back home?

A/n: I tried my best to research abt this. If there is anything wrong please tell me!

mental health masterlist | main masterlist

You held your hands under the streaming water for the god knows what time this was. You turned off the water and sighed. You knew Oscar would be home soon.

Yet, you couldn’t magically change anything. When he was there, it had been less. He could silence your mind, at least for a bit.

You walked into the living room and sat down, looking around. Your hands rested on the sofa which you grimaced at.

You made your way into the kitchen, getting something to drink. You held the glass under the stream and set it aside.

Your hands now in the place of the glass, again. Tears blurred your vision and you squeezed them shut, not wanting to look at your hands. To ashamed to admit what you’ve been doing to yourself.

You jumped a bit when soft hands traveled down your arms and the water was turned off. You felt Oscar‘s breath at your neck. When did he come in?

He turned you around, eyes still squeezed shut. You felt a soft towel dab at your hands, gently drying them. Oscar put the towel down and kissed your hands.

You opened your eyes and looked at the australian. His eyes met yours. You had expected him to be disappointed, mad or anything except for the way he was looking at you now.

His eyes gentle but full of worry. He slowly let your hands fall to your sides and pulled you closer.

“Sweetheart” His voice was barely a whisper. His hands found their place on your cheeks, wiping your tears “God your bleeding, and..oh honey”

“It’s okay. Your okay” His arms pulled you into a firm hug, not letting you go. Once your head met his chest, you relaxed a bit.

“I’m sorry for leaving you alone here, baby” He whispered “Not your fault” He held your face in his hands “Should’ve still been there for you.” Oscar pecked your nose.

“It’s okay” He shook his head “It’s not. You’re hurting yourself, my love. I hate seeing you hurt” Your eyes wandered down.

“I-maybe” He gulped “Maybe we should..” Your eyes snapped up. His eyes now glassy. Was he about to break up with you?

“Set an end to this?” You opened your mouth to say something but nothing came out. You just stared at him.

“It can’t go on like this, you know it” You nodded “I’ll go pack my things” You pushed yourself away from him “What? Why?” He grabbed your arm “You said you wanted to end this”

“No, oh baby. I didn’t mean us. We’re for forever. You’re stuck with me for life,baby. I meant..” He looked down at your hands.

“Oh..” Oscars face softened “It will be okay. I was talking about considering Therapy. Before you say anything, I’d come with you”

“You’d do that?”

“I’d bring you the moon if you’d ask me to” He chuckled which you laughed at. He smiled.

“Please consider it, okay?” You nodded “Alright. Let’s go and cuddle. I wanna hold you” You smiled and agreed.

A/n: Hope I managed to do okay? I really hope I did 😬

You can request any driver with any kind of disorder btw. I love you all, and please reach out if you need someone ❤️

#oscar piastri angst #oscar piastri fluff #tw ocd #ocd tag #ocd awareness #mental health

[forensisch]

@mad-hunts / ❝i didn't lie. i simply presented a... selective truth.❞

“hm.” johann does not sound even the slightest bit convinced of the other man’s claim, yet despite the doubt that begins to fester beneath the surface, his expression remains unchanged—tight-lipped and professional—as his gaze settles on the open wound, watching it ooze a steady supply of blood.

how someone came to acquire such an injury—and in a rather inconvenient place, too, between the six and seventh ribs, from what he can see—isn’t on his list of priorities at the moment.

after all, it’s not the first time that a stranger has come to his door in the early hours of the day—before he’s even had time to brew a cup of coffee—with blood on their hands, asking for help. johann, of course, is always prepared for just the occasion, so he’s hardly in a rush and gestures vaguely in the direction of the nearby operating table—a silent request for his patient to sit—while readying a tray of the necessary equipment he’ll need.

“either way, you’re going to need a few stitches.”

#ic. #mad-hunts. #/ #i hope this is okay! #if you need/want anything to be changed just let me know

[talesofourworlds]

@cataclysmus liked for a starter with Rita!

These visits to Dahngrest were becoming more and more commonplace in Rita's life. She shouldn't have been surprised, really. When it was convenient for Brave Vesperia to use it as a meeting place, of course she would come all the way there to meet them. This was one such day, but at the same time Rita was there to share what she'd been learning about potential replacements for the blastia. Progress was, admittedly, slower than she would have liked. A small amount of progress was better than nothing, and she was eager to share what she'd learned.

Of course, some things never really did change. Just as it had been when Rita had first set foot in the guild city with the others, Dahngrest proved to be as lively as anything. By then, Rita was used to navigating the streets and avoiding colliding with others. Such was the benefit of needing to come to Dahngrest as often as she and the others had. She strode forward with confidence, dipping and moving about to avoid various guild members. That was, of course, until someone caught her eye for just a moment.

There, moving in the opposite direction to her as the crowd thinned, was someone clad in a mage's cloak. Their hood was covering their face just enough so Rita couldn't immediately identify them as she walked closer to her destination. For just a heartbeat, Rita looked back and decided it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Rita wasn't the only mage out there, even if she didn't often don her mage's cloak. Maybe it was just another mage getting ready to go somewhere else in Dahngrest. That was the thought process, at least, until Rita thought more about the encounter.

She squinted. The more she thought about it, the less sense it made. She liked to think that she knew at least a majority of the mages that hailed from Aspio. Even the ones who had been scattered by what had happened to their beloved city when Tarqaron rose should have been recognizable to her, but she couldn't put a name or face to this stranger. Assuming they were a mage at all, of course. Was someone parading around like a mage? For what purpose? Rita's mind raced, and she did the only thing she could think to do. Her pace picked up as she started to follow the stranger. Something wasn't right.

"H-Hey! You!" It was the first thing Rita could even think to say. Not so genius mage of her, she knew, but she was caught off guard. Somehow, she managed to catch up and tried to get in front of the stranger. She was right back to squinting as she looked him over. "Pretty sure there aren't any mages from Aspio living around here. And I think I'd know a cloak like that anywhere. So who the hell are you?"

Already, Rita could imagine some people thinking she was leaping to conclusions. Maybe she was. She couldn't help it in this case, though. When she felt like something was off, surely it made sense for her to pursue it. Right?

#ic #cataclysmus #Pyrokinetic Genius (Rita) #A New Day Dawns #👀 I've been reading your threads with altosk and may I just say I love how you write Alexei #Anyway I hope this is okay! #Let me know if I need to change anything!

[yinjiyang]

The Welcoming Waves of Home

"If you ever need a place to stay, let me know, okay?" -- @dreams-of-fate​ -- Lian Song -- In Case You Didn’t Know Starters

       Perhaps it was to his benefit that he could masquerade as a somewhat sickly heir, that his absences during the day and aversion to certain activities could be explained by his 'mysterious affliction'...and yet he was quite good at his nightly activities, defending a neighboring territory from monsters--sometimes in the form of men, sometimes in the form of creatures.  But with a recent onslaught of invaders, it was somewhat surprising to find himself fighting alongside one of the Emperor's highest ranking generals.  A recognition had trickled along the back of his mind amid battle, a very strong presence of water--perhaps the general had felt it as well--and perhaps that had been the catalyst behind the nigh-immediate bond shared between them, or perhaps it was the mutual connection and camaraderie one felt when fighting together.        What had not been expected, however, was this battle to last the entire night, and Feng Maoyin could feel the dawn quickly approaching, the blue hour upon them as the last enemy fell.  Feng Maoyin did not speak much during their encounter, though it was clear he was listening in the wake of battle.  Deep blues of sky faded to gray and just a tinge of red and rose.          If you ever need a place to stay, let me know, okay?        The offer had been unexpected and yet, in that moment, it had been a blessing.  As the sky gained more color, Feng Maoyin's flesh drained of his own, becoming all the more ashen as he wavered just a bit in an otherwise elegant stance, a slight sway reminiscent of the ebb and flow of tied to indicate an unsteadiness which he promptly concealed by straightening his posture once more and lifting his umbrella with a trembling hand.  "...would now be considered inappropriate...?" he asked upon a quivering whisper as he slowly sank to a crouch with a fluid motion, making himself as small as possible as he covered himself with the thick canopy to shield himself from the first rays of morning peeking over the horizon.  To anyone else, this may have been written off as someone exhausted and feeling faint after overexertion; but for someone who may have been a bit more in-tune with the exquisite over-abundance of Yin energy contained within the body of Feng Maoyin, the strong Yang energy of sunrise may have risen a much more prevalent concern.  Faint wisps of shadow wavered at the edges of the fabric, scarcely visible yet telling.

#dreams-of-fate #dreams-of-fate - lian song #gentle ghost verse #the welcoming waves of home #{ asdfkjdkj long have i seen you on my dash and pined over just how to start a scene } #{ thank you so much for this } #{ i hope it's all right that i went with the gentle ghost 'masquerading as a human' verse } #{ assuming your verse is the ancient mortal realm one? possibly? is that okay? } #{ please let me know if you need me to change anything }

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

#i was supposed to spend the last 2 days prepping and relaxing for the start of this big project tomorrow #but ive spent thr last 2 days frantically coding as fast as i could and focusing v hard to get a lot of bullshit done #and ive fixed things since yesterday. the changes i had to make were too too bad bc the thing that went wrong was so fucking weird #but it should be okay by tomorrow. knock on wood. but this does mean ive done fuck all to prep for tomorrow #so we r winging it bby. ugh. just gotta fucking pray that everything goes ok. pls let nothing b broken and let everything seal properly 🙏 #i was also supposed to meet with my boss today. probably for her to make sure i dont fuck up this project but apparently their safety hood #was having an emergency... whatever that means. so im sure shes having a week as well. and im free to fuck everything up for everyone #ugh. im so. theres a certain point in burning out where youre not really in pain anymore. you dont really feel anything all your joy and #hope dissolves away and u just exist to be useful. and i feel like its easier to maintain that than trying to b happy #i do not advise that bc its a fucking miserable. wasteful way to live but i dont really have time to try for anything better #god. i really hope my measurements friday dont take a full 8hrs. i dont know if i can handle that. literally i would have stay intensely #focused with my brain being Interrupted every 5min so i can manually record data points. its gonna b agony #so that fun. but maybe it wont. maybe itll be great and fun and ill have a wonderful time. seems unlikely but ya never kno #lets not think abt the fact that having to rush all this is preventing me from being able to do all thr other bullshit i need to get done #to prepare for the future. future? what future? hard to imagine from the bottom of this pit im digging myself #sigh. in a few months i can leave this place and never come back. soon but not soon enough #lol i was literally crying listening to cold play earlier bc idk thats the type of music my parents would put on at parties in summertime #so it evokes a v specific mood. which is i guess me hiding away from ppl at parties haha #back when i didnt have to worry abt things so much and i could just listen to the frogs chirping and watch the fireflies #oh god. now my boss is asking if i reached out for help tomorrow. no. lady i would rather drink bleach than have to direct an undergrad #tomorrow. its 10pm im fucking tired. just let me be sad. did i reach our for help? no my brain is on fire #tomorrow is gonna b a long day ugh #unrelated

[requiemofrebellion]

@grislyintentions ― starter

Sampo sat in the underground clinic, eyes watching Natasha for quite some time as he rested. He had come in for being just slightly injured and needed to be patched up. He could have left over an hour ago but he stayed put, watching the doctor closely. Then he moved his gaze briefly to the clock before they were back on Natasha. How long was she planning on working? He swore she never took a break. Well, lucky for her, Sampo was here to help her out! 

With a grin, the male stood from where he sat, watching the client that was talking to Natasha leave. That’s when he knew he’d have an opening to get her attention. He walked in front of her so she couldn’t just go back to paperwork or to another patient. 

“ Don’t you ever take a break, Doc? ” He asked, dramatically sighing. “ Just watching you work yourself to death is so sad. I think it’s time for a break don’t you? I’m rather hungry and I’m sure you are too. So, why not come with me to grab a bite to eat? ” Maybe she’d even pay for it.

#☆ you know it’s all just a game that i’m playin. ☆ ⸻ ic : sampo #grislyintentions #grislyintentions ― natasha #( i hope this was okay! let me know if you need me to change anything :D )

[phoenix-flamed]

She had the fastest horse, and it was no wonder that she could easily loose her escort. She knew her guards, or rather their horses, were not able to keep up with her mare. But that was exactly the purpose of her galloping. The princess wanted to be alone and unattended. Especially that Nunnally had always felt safe around the castle. She enjoyed the speed, the wind, the risk, sitting on the back of her mare. She was free. At least as much as a daughter of and a sister to the Emperor might have been. Soon she’d have to play a role of a perfect lady. Fake smiles, superficial chats, ridiculous attires. She knew there would be visitors from Rosaria and she knew there were plans for her. Were they as unavoidable as she thought? She steadied her horse as they reached the clearing.

“Good girl…” – Nunnally patted her mare’s neck. She was happy and cheerful for a few moments, but then her good mood disappeared. She was not alone. A dark-haired man. She didn't know him. She straightened her back looking at him. It was too late to withdraw. He had probably seen her. Nunnally could not see the emblems if he was carrying any. What was he doing so close to the castle? Was he from Rosaria? But they were to arrive much later. In a few days.

Her escort was not far away, but probably not close enough if the man was to attack her. But he did not look as if he were to. Nunnally held the reins tighter. In case she opted for an escape.

“Greetings, My Lord...” – she said in a perfectly calm voice despite the anxiety building inside her – “Have you lost your way? They say it’s dangerous to wander alone close to the imperial castle...Especially if not really invited…” – was it enough of a suggestion that she was not alone? But hopefully it did not sound like a thread. Unwarranted thread to be precise. Nunnally sent the stranger a smile; perhaps to soothe her words – “I might be able to assist, if you tell me your destination…”

“And stating your name would be…appreciated.”

The clearing had seemed a suitable enough place to -- literally -- clear his head. The Archduke, himself, and their small entourage had arrived days earlier than intended to the heart of Sanbreque, and as always when he and his father paid a visit to Oriflamme, Elwin found it to be incredibly overwhelming. The air teemed and buzzed with the aether from the Mothercrystal overlooking the holy capital, and even the size of the city and the imperial palace were... staggeringly massive compared to Rosalith.

In fact, compared to Oriflamme, Rosalith seemed so incredibly... humble, even primitive.

And so, with his father's approval, the young Marquess had taken his chocobo out for a ride, with no particular destination in mind -- in part because he didn't know his way around, but. Staying in the general area of the imperial palace was a given; his only real criteria had been somewhere away from people, for nerves were a terrible thing and he found the best way to ease them was a moment or two of peace.

What he hadn't been expecting was someone else to be of a like mind.

The sound of dull hoofprints did not escape his notice, however it was Eleftherios who took notice of their company first, head lifting and sharp gaze fixating upon the young woman and her steed. Elwin offered a soothing pat to the large bird's side, murmuring a soft word of praise for his protectiveness. When his attention shifted to the young woman and the mare she sat astride, there was a hint of curiosity and awe to his expression, namely in those steely blue eyes of his. It wasn't often that he saw a horse in person, after all -- Rosaria primarily used chocobos for transportation.

There was also a sense of anxiety welling within him, which he kept carefully hidden behind a friendly smile. Dealing with other nobility at social or political gatherings and events was one thing, but his comfort had and likely always would lie with the commoners -- and she was very clearly not a commoner.

"Forgive me, I --" A pause, brow furrowing. A quick breath was sucked in, and his gaze averted to one side as he sought where to start in trying again to reply to her. "... Elwin Rosfield, my lady," he finally settled on introductions first. Taking a step away from his mount, he swept forward in a polite bow towards her. "May I know the name of whom it is I have the pleasure of meeting? Both of you, that is?" It seemed only proper to greet her companion as well.

#Audiences #Verse: Firebird's Song #lured-into-wonderland #I hope this reply is okay for you! ;w; If you need anything changed or tweaked just let me know!