#this is open for anyone to jump in on if they’re interested

[airybcby]

જ⁀✦ Everywhere I Look

( ushijima wakatoshi x fem! reader )

✩ a/n — meet the robinsons mentioned !

✩ word count — 1.1k

✩ content — ushijima wakatoshi x fem! reader, dad! ushijima, timeskip!!, husband! ushijima, uh yeah i made him a girl dad so what, fluff, just domestic cuteness, uh yeah, not proofread

✩ synopsis — From the day Ushijima Wakatoshi met you, he's loved your eyes. And now, as he looks into those same eyes- only on his daughter, he wonders if it's possible to love a feature so much it hurts.

── .✦ our lives are made in these small hours

When Ushijima Wakatoshi first noticed you, he felt sick.

Not because you stunk. Or you were obnoxiously loud. And definitely not because he liked you. Or so he thought.

No, it was because you walked into his life like you were always supposed to be there.

Not dramatically. Not loudly. 

Not even in some sort of movie-like slow motion where time stopped and the only two people in the room were you and him.

You just… appeared.

It was second year of high school, and he was walking the same path he always did, to the gym and back again. 

Volleyball. Study. Sleep. Repeat. 

Life was simple. Clean, obnoxiously so to some. Understandable.

And that was just the way he liked it…until you joined his class and took the seat next to him and smiled like the sun didn’t know it had to compete for “brightest star” award.

And that was the first moment he thought something was wrong with him.

Because when he walked into the gym that afternoon, he didn’t think about his serves. 

Or practice. 

Or that he had to push himself to be better.

He wondered if you’d smiled like that at anyone else.

He kept looking for you after that.

In the halls. On the stairs. In the break before class started.

At first, he told himself it was fine. You were just… interesting. 

You liked strange snacks. You wore mismatched socks. You hummed songs under your breath when you thought no one could hear you. (you hummed awfully loud, he learned )

But it was when Tendou leaned over and whispered, “Do you know you’ve been staring at that girl for like, ten minutes?” that Ushijima realized this wasn’t something that he’d felt before. 

It was something strange. Something that kept growing. He would say it was curiosity, but even then he didn’t think that was the case.

To everyone else, it was so painfully obvious.

Ushijima Wakatoshi had fallen head over heels for the new girl.

So when you asked him to walk you home, nervous, cheeks flushed, and you told him “I think I like you. Actually, no, I know I do,” he just stared at you for a second.

Not because he didn’t feel the same.

But because for the first time, it felt like the air had changed.

Like the world had shifted and made room for something new.

Something that wasn’t just volleyball had taken up space in his mind for far too long.

And he looked into your eyes, opened his mouth to respond.

And now, years later, he’s looking into those same eyes. But smaller. Brighter. Full of laughter.

His daughter runs in circles on the grass, chasing the petals falling from a tree she calls “The Magic One.” She’s got his hair, your nose, and your eyes. 

Especially your eyes.

Ushijima watches her with the kind of still attention most people find intimidating. But if they looked closer, they’d see the corners of his mouth tilt up every time she lets out even the smallest giggle.

You sit beside him on the picnic blanket, brushing grass from your jeans and stealing a sip of the juice box he opened for her.

You lean into his shoulder, and he shifts ever so slightly to let your head rest there.

“She’s getting faster,” you murmur.

“She’s getting stronger,” he agrees, eyes still on her. “She might be able to jump higher than me someday.”

You snort. “She’s five. She doesn’t even like sitting through your games.”

He doesn’t respond, but you feel it—how proud he is. How happy.

How completely and utterly devoted.

People think Ushijima is secretive about his family.

But they’re wrong.

He’s private. There’s a difference.

He doesn’t hide you. He doesn’t hide your daughter. He just doesn’t parade you around for people to gawk at.

He’s never once turned down a question about his home life during press conferences. 

It’s just… no one’s brave enough to ask.

Except for once—during a post-game interview after a big national match. His team had won, and everyone was exhausted. Ushijima still had sweat clinging to his neck and a towel slung over his shoulders.

And right there in the front row, sat a little girl in a dinosaur hoodie with her legs swinging from a chair far too big for her.

Beside her was you, softly coaching her not to eat the mic if they let her ask a question, even though you’d never been asked one before.

The public loves a little kid, what can I say?

The reporter blinked. “Is that your…?”

Ushijima didn’t look away from the camera. “My daughter. Yes.”

“And your wife?” another asked.

“She’s the love of my life. We met in high school.”

There was a beat of silence. Then frantic typing.

You didn’t look embarrassed. You were just smiling that same sun-bright smile that had first drawn him to you. 

And your daughter was now waving at the camera, whispering, “Papa! Papa look! I'm on TV!”

He blinked once. Then lifted a hand in a small wave.

The crowd melted.

Sometimes, people still whisper things.

“He never talks about them.”

“I know he’s cheating on her”

“She’s in it for the money.”

But none of them are brave enough to ask him directly.

And those who know him, and know your relationship, don’t need to.

He wears his wedding ring every day. 

When asked about his greatest achievement, he said once, with no hesitation, “My daughter. And that she has her mother’s heart.”

His friends tease him sometimes, sure.

“You’re soft, Ushijima,” Tendou once said when he came from france to celebrate your daughters birthday ( with a hand crafted chocolate bear in tow, mind you )

“Yes,” he agreed, without irony. “I am.”

He doesn’t need to prove how much he loves you.

But he’ll do it anyway.

One night, after your daughter has fallen asleep curled between you two on the couch, you trace the lines of his palm.

“She’s going to be someone really special,” you whisper.

“She already is,” he says softly, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“You’re a good dad,” you add, quieter.

He doesn’t say anything. Just holds your hand a little tighter.

But later, when he tucks her into bed, you hear it.

“I hope you grow up to love someone the way I love your mama.”

Because everywhere he looked when he was young, he looked for you.

And everywhere he looks now, he finds you.

In her eyes. In your smile. 

In his heart.

And that is the greatest win of his life.

જ⁀✦ ©airybcby ✩ masterlists

✩ likes ✩ comments ✩ and reblogs are appreciated

for this req !

[luveline]

more hotch with teacher!reader? maybe she’s trying to take a bunch of things into her classroom one morning and hotch jumps in to help (and flirt with) them :)) i adore you’re writing thank you for sharing sm with us lately!!!

you’re so welcome ily ty for requesting! <3 fem, 1k

Today, you and your class are going to make dioramas with a heavy focus on paper crafting. For the last few days, you’ve helped them make plans on what they want to create, and then you scoured the internet for origami and craft tutorials to suit. The only one you couldn’t find was for poor Jamie’s tractors. You’ll figure it out, you’re sure. 

You’ve been saving cardboard boxes, toilet roll inserts, and egg cartons for months. There’s a total mountain of things to bring in, so you’re here early. You figure if you carry huge armfuls, you can get everything inside in three trips. 

“Oh,” you say, as a cardboard box tumbles to the ground, and somehow doesn’t give you a clearer view, “whoops. I’ll pick that up. Jeez.” 

You step over it and almost slip. 

“Careful,” someone says. 

You jump and send an egg carton skittering across the floor. “Oh, gosh! You scared me!” You twist your head, the cardboard that had been resting on your face falling down into your collar. “Oh, Mr. Hotchner.” 

Of course it’s Mr. Hotchner. Aaron, predictably. 

“Aaron,” he says, leaning down to grab the things you’ve dropped, before he opens his arm toward you. You lean away from your tower, embarrassed but relieved when he takes the bulk of your tall tower from you. 

“Thank you, Aaron. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here so early. Is everything okay?” 

“Let me help you with this.” 

Avoiding the question. You and Aaron carry your cardboard inside to the classroom, where you unlock your door (and you never would’ve been able to do without his rescue). He follows you to the arts and crafts table toward the back of the room, and you deposit your stock. 

“Thank you,” you say when he places his armful down. 

“It’s no problem. Can I help with the rest?” 

“Would you, please?” you ask. “It seemed a lot less before today.” 

You bring the rest back in. He’s the picture of a perfect gentleman and carries more than you each time, which isn’t to say you can’t have carried the same as he did, but it’s nice for once to be the one looked after. As a teacher, you get used to giving. 

He doesn’t make you ask him twice. “I’m here early because I wanted to talk with you if you’re free, before I head into the office.” 

“His Aunt is bringing him today?” you ask about Jack. 

“I didn’t manage to get home in time last night to see him, but I’ll be here at pick up time.” 

You nod, hyper aware that you’d swayed the conversation again. “Sorry, what were you saying?” 

“It’s about Jack. Well, it’s mostly about me. I’d like to ask you for a favour, if you’re willing.” 

“Oh, sure. Of course.” 

“You haven’t heard it yet.” 

You flush under the weight of his knowing smile. “No, I mean, I’m sure it’ll be fine. So…” 

“It’s hard sometimes to get Jack to tell me what you’re doing in school. I had no idea he’d be making dioramas today. And I don’t need your lesson plans, I’d never expect that of you, but I was hoping you could summarise the week for me on Fridays? Or whenever you can. I don’t need updates on how Jack is progressing, it could be a couple of words on the topics you’ve chosen, just so I know what he’s doing while I’m away.” 

You’ve never been asked to do it. Parents of kids in the second grade aren’t usually clocked in on what their kids are learning. School is still half fun at this age, your most important job is to make sure they can all read with acceptable fluency. And it’s hard because their parents don’t help, but it’s fine. You love teaching them something so important, and you’re ecstatic to meet someone who’s actually interested. 

You beam. “Yeah, of course I can. I can do that, I don’t mind. Nobody ever wants to know what we’re doing, which is such a shame! I mean, they’re so excited and of course their parents care, but if they have just a little bit of support it makes a huge difference. I can totally send you my lesson plans, Aaron. I’d like to.” You laugh to yourself smugly. “I never get to show them off. They’re extensive. And they take ages.” 

“You want to show them off?” he asks softly. 

His voice is velveteen. 

“Is that awful?” you ask.

“No, it makes sense. You really don’t have to if it’s too much trouble, but I… feel guilty, when I call him and ask how school was, and he can’t remember what happened.” 

“Don’t feel bad about that. The kids can’t remember what I told them ten minutes ago.” 

He isn’t like you, in that he’s very still. He doesn’t move or fidget, which makes his looking at you all the more obvious. “Thank you,” he says. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Can I pay you back?” 

You catch one of your bracelets and twist it around your wrist. 

Aaron told you without hesitation that he profiles criminals. He can read their expressions, habits, and idiosyncrasies as thoughts and feelings. He can trace movement to the source. You’re positive he wouldn’t keep asking you such leading questions, or insist you call him by his first name every time you see him, if he didn’t already know that you find him attractive. 

“How would you do that?” you ask. 

“Is there anything else you… need help with?” 

A million things, but you’re no idiot. You can read subtlety too. 

“Well, I have a bunch of textbooks on the top shelf in the stockroom you could help me with.” You smile shyly. “It gets hot in there, though.” 

He begins taking off his suit jacket. “That,” he says, his gaze on you with all the tenderness and amusement of someone who’s known you longer, “won’t be a problem.” 

[paxaz535]

Green and Gold

love interest: pazzi

year one

CHAPTER ONE.

The streets of London smelled different — like rain and engine smoke and something old. Azzi stuck close to her mom as they wove through the station, dragging a trunk twice her size behind her. Her owl, Hopper, hooted irritably in his cage every time she made a sharp turn.

Azzi could barely breathe.

She still wasn’t totally convinced this wasn’t a prank. That the owl had delivered the wrong letter. That she’d get to Hogwarts and someone would pull her aside and go, “Oh, sorry — we meant the girl next door.”

But then she thought about the day in gym class when she’d jumped for a rebound, missed, and accidentally floated for a full second before crashing back down. The other girls thought it was a trick.

Azzi knew better.

———

They’d spent the whole day before at Diagon Alley, which was straight-up the coolest, weirdest place Azzi had ever seen.

She got her wand from Ollivander’s — maple, 11¾ inches, phoenix feather core — after three failed attempts. The first wand shot sparks that set a curtain on fire. The second made her hair stand up like she’d rubbed a balloon across her head. But the third?

It hummed in her palm. Warm and wild. Like it knew her.

She tried on robes that made her look like she belonged in a movie, bought a stack of schoolbooks with titles like Defensive Magical Theory and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and convinced her mom to let her get the most stubborn owl in the entire shop. Hopper bit the salesclerk and hooted like he was proud of it.

Azzi loved him immediately.

Still, the coolest part? Quality Quidditch Supplies.

She spent twenty minutes with her face pressed to the glass, gawking at the broomsticks, enchanted goggles, and moving posters of legendary players. There was something about the sport — the speed, the contact, the vibe — that called to her. She didn’t know the rules yet, but she knew one thing for sure:

She was going to play.

———

Now, in King’s Cross, all that magic buzzed just beneath her skin. Azzi gripped her ticket tight:

Platform 9¾.

This had to be a joke, right? There wasn’t even a nine-and-three-quarters anywhere. Just a regular brick wall between platforms nine and ten.

She looked up at her mom. “You sure this is legal?”

Her mom laughed, eyes warm. “Just run, baby. Like you’re going for a layup.”

Azzi took a deep breath.

And sprinted.

She expected impact. Instead, the world folded around her — soft and warm and full of steam — and then boom: there it was. The scarlet train. Students everywhere, owls hooting, trunks banging, voices loud and excited. Hogwarts Express.

Azzi stood there for a second, winded.

“I’m actually doing this,” she whispered to herself.

She didn’t let herself freeze too long. She adjusted her grip on Hopper’s cage, hoisted her trunk onto the nearest trolley, and started toward the train.

———

The compartments filled fast. Every time she slid open a door, it was packed — students shouting, sharing candy, already claiming seats. Azzi scanned faces, trying to find someone who looked friendly. Or at least open.

No luck.

She was starting to sweat. Not because she was nervous — okay, fine, maybe a little nervous — but because this damn trunk weighed a thousand pounds and her owl was being dramatic.

She pushed open one more door near the back.

There was a girl already there. Blonde. Pale. Legs stretched across the seat like she owned it. She wore all black — fitted jacket, shiny boots — and read a book like she was too cool for everyone around her.

Azzi hesitated. “Is anyone sitting here?”

The girl didn’t even look up. “They’re about to be.”

Azzi blinked. “Sorry?”

“You just walked in.”

Okay, what?

Azzi’s eyebrows shot up. The girl was giving attitude and hadn’t even made eye contact.

“You always this rude,” Azzi muttered, “or is it just early?”

That made the girl lift her gaze — finally. Her eyes were a sharp, clear blue. Not cold exactly. Just unreadable. She closed the book with one finger holding her place.

“Paige Bueckers,” she said like a dare.

“Azzi.”

“Just Azzi?”

Azzi shrugged and shoved her trunk overhead. “What, you need my résumé too?”

Paige smirked. It was slight, but Azzi caught it. Like she was amused. Like she’d already sized her up and filed her under loud Gryffindor type. Not that she was wrong.

“So what are you, then?” Paige asked. “Gryffindor, right?”

“We haven’t even been Sorted yet.”

Paige leaned back, folding her arms. “I don’t need a hat to tell me what’s obvious.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Lemme guess — you’re Slytherin.”

“Obviously.”

Azzi snorted. “Figures.”

———

They didn’t talk much after that.

Paige went back to her book. Azzi stared out the window, watching the city blur into green hills and trees, her heart still hammering in her chest. She didn’t know why that girl irritated her so much. Maybe it was the calmness. The way Paige didn’t seem phased by any of this.

Like magic was just another thing she’d already conquered.

Azzi didn’t like being underestimated. She’d grown up proving herself — on the court, in classrooms, everywhere. And Paige Bueckers? She looked like someone who never had to prove anything to anyone.

Azzi already knew she’d hate her.

Which was wild, considering she also couldn’t stop thinking about her.

———

Azzi tried not to look at Paige.

Tried.

But Paige was annoying in that silent, unreadable kind of way — the kind that made you want to poke her just to get a reaction. She didn’t fidget. She didn’t check the window. She barely blinked. She just sat there, calm and still, flipping pages like the train wasn’t shaking beneath them and they weren’t about to start their first year at Hogwarts-freaking-School-of-Witchcraft-and-Wizardry.

Azzi, on the other hand, couldn’t sit still.

Her knee bounced. Her fingers drummed against the window ledge. Her owl kept shifting in his cage like he was anxious too.

“You’re giving me a headache,” Paige said flatly, not even looking up from her book.

Azzi rolled her eyes. “You’ve barely looked away from your book this whole time. Pretty sure you gave yourself the headache.”

Paige turned a page with surgical precision. “Some of us came here to learn. Not bounce off the walls like a Golden Snitch on sugar.”

Azzi barked a laugh. “You think you’re better than everyone, don’t you?”

“No,” Paige said calmly. “Just you.”

That made Azzi sit up straighter, mouth parting like she couldn’t believe the audacity. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Like what? That I’m not afraid to call you out when you’re acting like you invented magic?”

Paige finally looked at her again — really looked. Her expression didn’t change much, but her eyes glinted with something… sharp. Calculating. Interested, maybe, but in the way a cat watches a mouse.

Azzi hated it.

And hated that it made her skin warm.

“Relax,” Paige said, leaning back and crossing her arms. “You’ll survive one train ride. I won’t bite.”

Azzi scoffed. “Damn shame.”

That almost got a smirk out of Paige. Almost.

———

They sat in stubborn silence for a while.

Azzi pulled out a Chocolate Frog and unwrapped it slowly, more for something to do than anything else. The frog immediately jumped out of her hand and landed in Paige’s lap.

Azzi stifled a laugh as Paige startled, brushing the frog off her robes like it was contagious.

“Seriously?” Paige muttered, wiping her sleeve.

“Oops,” Azzi said, absolutely not sorry. “Guess it liked you.”

“Doubt it. Probably just wanted to escape you.”

Azzi shrugged, biting into the edge of the wrapper like she hadn’t heard. “Can’t blame it for having taste.”

She glanced at the card that came with it — some old wizard with a crooked hat and a long, disapproving beard. Azzi flipped it over and made a face. “Ugh. Gamp. Lame.”

“Who’d you want?” Paige asked.

Azzi blinked. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” Paige went back to her book. “Just trying to predict how basic your taste is.”

Azzi kicked Paige’s foot lightly under the table.

Paige didn’t flinch.

“Do that again,” she warned.

Azzi smirked. “Or what? You’ll hex me?”

“No. I’ll write your name on my list.”

“What list?”

Paige didn’t answer. Just turned the page.

Azzi stared at her for a second too long. Not because she was intimidated — definitely not because of that — but because there was something about her that didn’t match up. The fancy posture, the cold tone, the whole I’m better than you attitude… and yet Paige hadn’t kicked her out. Hadn’t asked her to leave. Hadn’t moved an inch, even when Azzi was loud, annoying, and definitely getting under her skin.

She could’ve chosen any empty compartment. But she stayed.

And Azzi hated that that made her curious.

———

The train rattled, the sky outside darkening into bruised blue as twilight stretched across the hills. Azzi was tired of pretending Paige wasn’t bothering her. Even more tired of pretending she didn’t notice how Paige’s eyes flicked up to her every now and then — like she was just waiting for Azzi to do something reckless again.

So she did.

Azzi reached into her pocket, pulling out the small, secondhand wand she’d picked up at Ollivanders. It was warm in her palm, itching to be used. She hadn’t gotten the chance to actually try anything yet — not real spells, anyway — and frankly, her nerves were beginning to buzz.

“You ever done magic before?” Azzi asked, a little too casually.

Paige didn’t look up. “Not like this.”

Azzi raised a brow. “Like what?”

“Unsupervised. Surrounded by idiots.”

Azzi grinned. “Good thing you’ve got me, then.”

She flicked her wand up without warning, whispering the only spell she’d memorized from the train ride over:

“Lumos.”

To her delight, the tip of the wand glowed. Not much, but enough to cast a faint white light between them, soft and pulsing like a tiny heartbeat.

Azzi beamed. “Yo, look! I did it!”

Paige looked up — just as the light suddenly burst into a short, blinding flash.

Both girls flinched. Hopper the owl screeched in protest from his cage.

The light sputtered once… then popped like a soap bubble, leaving behind a faint smell of burnt dust and something worse — like scorched hair.

Azzi blinked hard. “Okay… that was not what it was supposed to do.”

“No kidding,” Paige said, shielding her eyes and blinking like she’d stared at the sun too long. “What’d you do, punch the spell in the face?”

Azzi snorted. “You’re welcome for the entertainment.”

“That wasn’t magic,” Paige muttered, rubbing the side of her face. “That was a hazard.”

Azzi tilted her head. “Wow. You’re fun.”

“Not to people who almost blind me on moving trains.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but before she could bite back, the intercom above them crackled.

“We’ll be arriving at Hogwarts in ten minutes. Please leave your belongings on the train — first-years will be escorted by staff.”

The excitement hit Azzi all at once. Her knees bounced again, but this time from actual energy. The castle. It was really happening. She looked out the window and caught the distant glint of lights reflecting off a lake. Her chest swelled.

Then Paige stood.

She stretched her arms overhead, her robe shifting to reveal a green and silver tie tucked into her coat pocket.

Azzi blinked. “You’ve already got Slytherin colors?”

“I come prepared.”

Azzi scoffed. “You come extra.”

Paige looked at her, calm and deadly as ever. “And you come loud.”

They stared at each other for a second, the air buzzing with leftover magic and irritation.

Azzi should’ve looked away.

But she didn’t.

———

Outside the train, the night air was cold and damp. A huge man with a lantern yelled something about first-years, and Azzi followed the crowd, heart thumping like a snare drum. Somewhere beside her, Paige moved without a word, silent and sharp.

Azzi glanced at her again as they rounded the hill.

And then she saw it — the boats.

Floating.

Waiting.

And behind them?

The castle.

Lit up like a dream.

Azzi forgot Paige existed for a second. She forgot her own name. The sight of Hogwarts, glowing against the night sky, made her breath catch in her throat.

This is real, she thought. I’m really here.

Her fingers curled tightly around the wand in her pocket. No more little flashes. No more guesswork. The next time she used it, she’d make it count.

Even if she had to outshine every smug Slytherin in the building.

Especially one.

———

The Great Hall was massive.

Like, Azzi-had-to-crane-her-neck-to-see-the-ceiling massive. Floating candles hovered in the air like stars, flickering just above their heads. The ceiling didn’t even look like a ceiling — it looked like the night sky had snuck inside and decided to stay.

Azzi’s jaw dropped.

She caught herself and quickly straightened up, hoping no one saw.

Except someone did.

Paige.

She was a few students ahead in the line, standing like she’d seen all this a thousand times already. Her arms were crossed. Her face was blank. Unbothered. Of course.

Azzi narrowed her eyes and muttered, “Try not to trip on your ego.”

Paige didn’t turn, but her ears definitely turned pink.

That was a win.

⸻

Professor McGonagall stood by a stool at the front of the hall. On the stool sat the ugliest, oldest-looking hat Azzi had ever seen. It looked like it hadn’t been washed since… ever. And then it moved.

The hat straight-up came alive, split open with a mouth, and started to sing a whole weird, rhyming song about the four houses. Azzi caught the part about Gryffindors being brave and bold and loud — that sounded like her. The rest of the song was a blur.

When the hat finally stopped singing, the Sorting began.

One by one, names were called.

Kids shuffled up to the stool, the hat got dropped on their heads, and the room waited. Sometimes the hat shouted out a house right away. Other times, it paused — like it was having a whole argument with itself.

Azzi tried to act chill. She wasn’t chill.

She wiped her palms on her robes.

“Bueckers, Paige.”

Azzi stiffened.

Paige walked up like it was no big deal. Calm. Slow. Like she was born for this. The hat barely touched her head before it yelled:

“Slytherin!”

Of course it did.

The table on the far left exploded into cheers. Paige slipped off the stool, walked toward them, and didn’t even glance back.

Azzi told herself she didn’t care.

But her stomach twisted anyway.

Suddenly, a cheerful voice piped up beside her.

“You look like a great person to be around!”

Azzi blinked and turned her head. A brunette girl, about her height, stood there with a bright, easy smile. Her cheeks were round, her eyes full of warmth. She looked like someone who always had something nice to say.

Azzi gave a small, cautious smile back.

“How come?”

The girl shrugged, still beaming.

“You give off an aura… A good one, though!”

Azzi wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but it didn’t sound bad.

“Thanks,” she said.

“What’s your name? I’m Azzi.”

“I’m Caroline. It’s nice to meet you, Az!”

Azzi blinked at the nickname, caught off guard. No one had ever called her that before.

Caroline’s face went red immediately.

“Wait—can I call you Az? Is that okay?”

Azzi paused for a second, then nodded.

“Sure.”

It sounded… kind of nice.

Caroline lit up again.

“Yay! You can call me Carol. I hope we both get into Gryffindor!”

Azzi smiled for real that time — not forced or polite, but one that reached her eyes.

Something told her she and Carol were going to be really good friends.

———

Name after name passed. She was starting to feel like maybe they’d forgotten her — maybe they were going to pull her aside and tell her, “Sorry, huge mistake, you don’t belong here after all.”

Then:

“Fudd, Azzi.”

Her heart stopped.

She walked to the front, legs stiff, hands cold. Her fingers brushed the edge of the stool, and she sat quickly, afraid her knees would give out.

The hat dropped over her head, blocking her view of everything.

Then she heard it — not out loud, not exactly. But inside her head, deep and ancient and amused.

“Well now… brave, yes… fiery little mind… oh, you’ve got grit. You’d do well in Gryffindor.”

Azzi held her breath.

“But wait… clever, too. You like to win. You want to be the best.”

Was that bad?

“Not bad at all,” the hat said. “The question is… do you want to prove something, or protect something?”

Azzi didn’t know how to answer.

But something in her whispered: I want to fight for something. I want to matter.

The hat paused.

“Gryffindor it is!”

The hat was lifted from her head. Applause burst from the Gryffindor table. Azzi stumbled off the stool, dazed, but trying to walk like she meant it.

She sat down at her new table, heart pounding. She could hear Carol cheering from the table, she had went before her.

Across the room, Paige was watching her. Just briefly.

Azzi swallowed and looked away.

Let the games begin.

[georgiapeach30513]

Weight of My Sins, Part 1

Summary: You thought life on the ranch was over. Couldn't bear the sight of Kayce anymore, so you fled all the way to Texas. You found a new relationship. You lived. You got a degree. But you missed Montana more than anything, but he wasn't leaving Texas. Now you're back on the ranch, and you and Kayce both lived your life. But that draw to him is still there, even if you're terrified to let those walls back down again. No matter how much you crave him.

Pairings: Kayce Dutton X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings:  explicit language, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.1K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @saradika-graphics

“Stop fidgeting,” Rip’s gruff voice bellows in the truck, and you press your hands under your legs.  Continuing to stare out your window.  The closer you get to the ranch the worse the feeling in the pit of your stomach gets.  This has got to be a bad idea, and nothing good can come of it.  You need a job just as much as you need a place to stay.  And Rip did you a solid in getting John to allow that for you.  Under different circumstances this would be the perfect solution to your problem.  

“You’re going to stay in the bunkhouse, so I’ll have to go over some ground rules with the wranglers,” you roll your eyes as you turn to look at him.  Ever the protective big brother role.  He isn’t your biological big brother.  Just a man that felt sorry for you as a kid, and helped out when he could.  You were his pet project.  And one of the few people he was kinda nice to.  Some things never change. 

“I don’t want you fucking around with them.  And believe me, they’re a bunch of lonely, horny cowboys.” 

“Aww, but you’re not interested in me.  Are you still lonely and horny?” He gives you an eat shit grin, shaking his head.  You are not the least bit worried about the wranglers.  They are the least of your worries.  “What if this doesn’t work out?” 

“Grow a pair of balls and make it work,” he shrugs as the ranch comes into view.  Immediately your fingers start fidgeting under your thighs.  So many memories remained here.  Up until the point that you left for veterinary school.  Anything to help out the ranch.  That’s Rip’s philosophy, even if he won’t say it.  Anything.

“Quit fidgeting!” He growls at you.

“I’m not!” You don’t want to admit that being here is turning your stomach inside out.  Don’t want to admit what just seeing the last name Dutton does to you.  Some things just are better left unexplored.  Especially now that you’re going into his territory.  His home.  

Rip puts the truck into park, and you inhale slowly.  Letting the fresh air fill your lungs before you slowly exhale.  Popping your neck for good measure before you sling the door open, and jump out.  Time seems to stand still here.  Very little has changed, except your age.  “Come on,” your adopted brother says, and you follow along with his long strides.  

Slinging the door open, Rip drops your meager duffle bag on the floor, and every man in there turns to glare at you.  Lloyd gives you a slight dip of his chin, “Welcome back, Bronc,” you nod to him.  The others you don’t truly recognize.  

“This here is like a little sister to me.  You treat her with fucking respect, and you stay out of her damn pants,” clearing their throats they return to their card game, leaving you puffing out a nervous breath before giving Rip a head nod.  “Yep. That’s it,” he says, turning on his heels, and leaving you in this den of bears.  

“Which bunk is available?” 

“One of those back ones,” Lloyd points in the direction without removing his eyes from his hand.  You didn’t expect a grand welcome, but this is pathetic.  Your eyes roam around each of the bunks.  Examining the spaces, looking for anything familiar. 

“He’s not here,” Lloyd answers, finally looking at you. 

“Who?” the old man’s eyebrows lift, as he nods at you sarcastically.  Judging asshole.  You weren’t looking for anyone.  You were trying to figure out how you fit in with these men.  Reaching into your bag, you stuff a few peppermints into your pocket.  You sling your duffle bag onto the bunk before turning to go towards the door, “I’m going out.” 

“Uh huh,” Lloyd answers knowingly.  You didn’t care what the man thought of you.  You need to get out of this room.  It’s stifling being in this bunkhouse.  Hell, it’s stifling being here.  With all these memories.  But ones that you love so much.  You miss it. 

Sighing at your contradictory thoughts, you kick gravel as you walk to the barn.  Getting away from humans, and joining animals.  They were better than humans.  They didn’t offer any words of wisdom, or judgement.  They are just there.  Lifting up a peppermint to one of them, he eats the treat off your hand, and you lean your head against his nose petting him.  

“First night here, and you’re already spoiling my horse, Bronc,” you didn’t have to see him to know that voice.  The one voice that makes you weak in the knees, and sick to your stomach all at the same time.  The one voice that has stuck to you like a bad habit, and you seek comfort in it with every sylablle. 

“Dutton,” you respond before starting to walk away.  He steps in front of you, and you turn to walk the other direction, but he jumps in front of you again.  His mouth turns up into that irresistible smile, and ‘it just makes you angry, and also makes you want to touch him.  The conflicting emotions just don’t stop.

“Why are you feeding my horse treats?” 

“Why are you hiding in the dark?” He shrugs.  A cute smile creeps onto his face, and you bashfully look away as heat flares your cheeks, “Did you follow me out here?” 

“No, I didn’t know you were going to be here.  Why are you here?” 

Somehow him not knowing you are going to be living here floods you with relief.  “This baby wanted a little treat, and I doubt you were giving him anything.” 

“You’ve not changed,” smiling, you let your eyes coast down his body, freezing at an ugly ring on his finger, and your blood turns cold.  Why is he even here giving you any ounce of hope?  He notices where your sight is, and hides his hand, but it’s too late.  Everything from that last night boils in your chest.  

“But you’ve changed,” you try to smile, and it just hurts.  You didn’t expect Kayce to not have a life and live it, but moving on with a wife is not what you expected.  

“It’s complicated,” is the only thing he says as he stuffs his hands in his pocket. 

“It always is with you, Dutton,” you respond, starting to walk away.  This time he doesn’t follow.  You can almost see him standing there with his pretty puppy eyes.  

“We’re separated,” you stop in your tracks, but don’t turn around.  Saying something like that is almost a death sentence.  Separated did not mean they weren’t going to get back together.  It could mean they needed space.  And you weren’t going to be the space he filled.  You sigh, turning to look at him.  

“Mmm, I don’t know if that’s good enough, Kayce,” his smile doesn’t falter.  You used his first name.  Using that name is so much warmer than using Dutton.  When you bring out the last name, he knows you’re slightly annoyed.  

Walking up to you, his calloused fingers brush over your cheeks, and he pulls you in for a familiar embrace.  Caressing your back as he brings you too close.  Like your bodies were made to meld together.  

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” you respond, pushing out of his hold and you turn to give the horse a kiss.  

Your body is on fire.  Trembling as you take a step back from him.  His scent of sunshine and leather blinds you.  The want for him is almost too strong.  “What do you want?” 

He grunts, “You,” but you shake your head no.  Everything is always so damn complicated with him.  “We are separated.” 

“And yet, you’re still married.” 

“Do you think that if I was happily married I’d be out here after midnight?  I’ve moved back to the ranch, and we rarely talk, unless it has to do with,” his voice goes softer, and your eyes slowly close, “My son,” the twisting of that knife hurts so much worse than hearing he’s married.  “I never meant to hurt you.” 

“Yeah.  And I can imagine how it is with you.  You come here to be separated, and somehow you end up feeling sorry for yourself, and lonely, and then you're driving out wherever, and right back into her arms to play house.  Is that how it goes?” 

“Not exactly.” 

“Why is it different now?” There’s no answer that he could give you that would make you feel better.  You’re left feeling like a junkie, and your drug of choice is Kayce John Dutton.  Always was.  Probably always will be.  

“Because of you.” 

“Oh, no.  I just got here, and you don’t get to come here with your pretty words when I’m trying to do a damn job.  You and your cute ass need to keep things professional.  I don’t need this Kayce.  It’s my first night.” 

“So you don’t hate me?” You could never truly hate Kayce.  You could have your heart broken by him.  Again.  But you’ve never hated him. 

“No, but I’m also not fucking you,” he chuckles as you walk backwards, and out of the barn. 

“Again!” He yells, too loud, and you hope that no one hears the two of you out here alone.  You didn’t need any rumors going around about how you were fucking him in the barn on the first night.  

“It was a mistake,” you wink at him.  Lying in this instance is a way to protect you.  There’s nothing that you regret with Kayce.  Not on your end.  

“And why was it a mistake?” 

“Premature ejaculation,” he looks down at his feet, as he toes the ground, “Due to the fact that neither of us knew what we were doing.  But it sure did get us into a lot of trouble, huh?  Have a good evening, Dutton.” 

“That wasn’t nice,” he peeks up at you, smiling anyways.  

“Nice?  Was it nice that I saw you with some girl in our spot?  You sure were curled up, and enjoying her with your mouth.  Was that nice?” 

“Wait…” you have to rip the bandaid, and let him know that you knew what he was doing.  You should have confronted him then.  Maybe you could have truly moved on and healed.  Maybe you wouldn’t have longed for Montana, and those pretty brown eyes still. 

You shake your head, because you need space from him.  He is crowding your thoughts, and your vagina.  If you didn’t get away, you’d be rolling around in the hay with him.  “I get we were teenagers.  Too young to be fucking.  And too stupid to remain faithful.  

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Like we have a choice,” he stands there smiling.  Not fully defeated by your words.  You weren’t bending to his words and charm, but you also weren’t refusing to talk to him.  “Don’t wear the ring.” 

“Whatever you say, Bronc,” you wouldn’t forgive him if he kept showing up with that ugly thing.  It pains you to know that he went off and married someone and had a child with someone that wasn’t you, and you couldn’t blame him either.  He’d moved on, and in so many ways you haven’t.  

You hope you don’t regret this decision to be here.  Hope that Kayce doesn’t infect your mind, and heart in the way he’s always done.  Knowing that he’s married, even if separated, helps.  And he has a kid.  Time didn’t change your feelings because you still ache for him.  

Separated.  

What did that even mean?  How did he define that word?

How long has he been separated?  Were his sweet words anything more than that?  Would he return to his wife?  He has a kid with her, so it’s not like he can just walk away easily.  Unless he already has.  But how can you be sure that this is it?  It’s the end and he’s never going to be with her again?  And if he was sure, why not going through a divorce? 

No.  You’re here to do a job, and doing a job is what you’re going to do.  You want to be treated just like everyone else on this damn ranch.  You weren’t going to become a love sick puppy for him.  You’re going to enjoy the Montana air.  The view here.  And finally doing something with your life.  And for you.

“Bronc and I are going to take the back,” Kayce smiles at Rip, and the older man’s eyes narrow at him.  

“Why?” he asks, giving you a quick look as you saddle up a horse, ignoring the conversation.  You’ll go where you’re told.  “Why are you bringing up the rear, and why is she even coming out with us?” 

“Because if something happens, we have a licensed vet right with us.  She’s bringing up the rear because she’s never gone out with us before, and this will give her a chance to learn.” 

Rip places his hands on his hips, gazing out to the sunrise, sighing, “I’m still not sure why you’re with her.  Put Jimmy in the rear with her, and — why the hell are you shaking your head at me?” 

“She doesn’t know Jimmy.” 

“And yet she sleeps in the bunkhouse with him,” Kayce clears his throat, and only because the last place that he wants you to be is with Jimmy. “What the fuck is your problem?” 

“Bronc and I are taking the rear.  Jimmy’s got flank.  Is the bunkhouse really the best place for her to be?” 

“Hell, Kayce, she’s not going to learn anything by getting special treatment,” you aren’t getting special treatment from him.  He just wants to make sure you stay comfortable, and be with him.  He needs more time to talk to you.  “Fine,” Rip growls, getting on his horse.  “She’s your responsibility then.” 

“I’ll try to keep her out of trouble.” 

Rip turns his horse around and heads towards the front, “Bronc, you're with Kayce in the back,” you sigh, climbing onto the horse.  Kayce gives you a wink as he climbs on his own, and waits for you. 

“You’re not subtle, you know?” He shrugs, and you can’t help but take a peek at his hand.  The ring thankfully is gone.  He kept his word.  And while it does ease your stomach, there’s still a part of you that knows that still isn't enough.  It’s easy to not wear a ring in private.  It’s easy to pretend it doesn’t mean a thing, but it does.  It should. 

“Are you planning on making sure we’re always together?” He shrugs again.  He’s the one that wanted you in the rear with him, and now he’s not talking.  But maybe you’re just not asking the right questions.  “So how have you been?” 

“Doesn’t matter.  I’m better now,” you scoff, keeping your eyes on the cattle.  “What?  Is my response not satisfactory?  Remember you left Montana.” 

“And you had your hands in some other girl's pants.” 

He winces, sucking air through his teeth, “Are you ever going to let me explain, so I can maybe get your forgiveness?  I told you I was stupid?” 

“Are you ever going to do it again?” 

“Are you ever going to go on a date with me?” 

“Not anytime soon,” you click your tongue, and tap your heels on the horse.  Speeding up a bit more, but he keeps his pace with you.  “Things can’t go back to how they were,” you wonder if he thought any relationship can return to how they were before, or if you’re just the lucky one.  Did he still carry a torch for you, like you did him?  

“So no more sneaking off into my room, doing things we were too young to be doing?” Him and his stupid little smile get you every time.  Not to mention the passion you always felt with Kayce.  You were never going through the motions, you loved every moment with him.  Even your fights that quickly were resolved, and you went on loving each other anyways, and loving harder.  

“Why did you leave?” His voice darkens, and he turns his face away from you.  

“I needed air,” he nods, understanding.  You needed to get away from him.  “Why did you do it?” 

“Kiss someone that wasn’t my girlfriend?” 

“You weren’t just kissing.” 

“Yeah, that’s all we did,” you shake your head no.  That is not what she implied happened.  And just kissing is enough anyways.  “It was stupid.  And I quickly realized that she wasn’t you, and did I say that I was stupid?” 

“You did,” you look over towards him, smiling, “But you can keep saying it,” a comfortable silence settles between the two of you, and you breathe in the fresh mountain air.  Realizing all the reasons that you missed Montana, but also the Yellowstone.  Things are peaceful in their way, of course, but there’s just this home feeling here.  

“Did you miss it?” 

“Do you mean did I miss you?” You turn to peek towards Kayce, and he chuckles, shaking his head.  

“I asked if you missed it as in this?” 

“Every day,” you enjoyed school, and you would do it all over again for the experience, and to say you have a skill.  You did miss some of the people, and now that you’re here you miss some of the people in Texas.  One of the people. 

“What did — did you — I mean,” he clears his throat.  Looking up to the clear blue sky, before back over towards you.  You already know exactly what he’s struggling to ask, and it’s due to the fact he doesn’t really want to know.  “How was Texas?” 

“You want to ask me the real question?” sometimes it’s best to just know the truth, and lay it all out there.  Even if you’re scared to know the answer.  You can learn ways to cope or just get over it. 

Kayce sniffs deeply, and tilts his head to the side in thought, “Did you meet anyone there?” Not the right question.  He’s such a coward. 

“Cowboy up, Kayce.  You can do better than that if you really want to know.  Just ask me like a man.” 

“Are you dating anyone?” 

“No.” 

“Did you?” 

“Was that so hard?” Surprisingly he nods his head.  He can respond but just asking was like pulling teeth, and it kinda gave you a bit of a confidence boost.  “I did.  Was.  I was dating someone.  It was pretty serious, but he wanted to stay in Texas, and I wanted to be back here.  We split amicably, and I packed up my stuff, moved out, and now I’m back here.” 

“What was he like?” His jaw flexes when he asks.  He doesn’t truly want to know what he is like, but you’re going to tell him anyway.  Kayce always had a possessive streak.  It never reached toxic heights, thankfully. 

“He’s a mechanic.  Older than me.  He’s a good guy.  He didn’t have much growing up, but he made something of himself, despite his setbacks,” Kayce just nods his head, refusing to look at you.  You like seeing him squirm a bit.  Not that you’re into comparing, but you didn’t have a child with him, nor were you married.  “I think you’d like him.” 

“Not likely.”  

“He played football.” 

“Definitely wouldn’t like him then.  Let me guess, he’s just a regular ole pretty boy that treated you okay, but it wasn’t great?  Maybe borderline annoyed you?” 

“He’s a good guy.  We were getting to a more steady part of our relationship.  It wasn’t too exciting.  And we never fought,” Kayce snorts, causing you to look towards him.  “We didn’t.” 

“Sounds like there was no passion.” 

“You mean it doesn’t sound like us?” 

“We’re adults now, Bronc.  We’re not going to act like two lovestruck teenagers anymore.  We were figuring ourselves out.  We didn’t know the meaning of compromising.  Now we’re grown,” no, you weren’t teenagers anymore.  He’d definitely grown.  At times you and Kayce just didn’t want to see eye to eye.  There was absolutely no compromising in your relationship.  So him admitting that makes you feel happy.  You left something steady, albeit boring at times, because the two of you couldn’t compromise on where to live.  He wasn’t leaving Texas, and you wanted to be in Montana.  

“So just how boring was this guy?” 

“Tell me about your son,” you counter.  Kayce smirks while looking up ahead to the herd.  You aren’t supposed to go out with them often, but you wanted to see the land again.  “How old?” 

“He’s eight.” 

“You didn’t waste any time did you?” 

“He wasn’t planned, and I was distraught.  I don’t regret him though.  He’s perfect.  Reminds me of myself.” 

“Did you love her?” He goes silent.  His puppy dog eyes scan over everything as he contemplates.  “I think I loved him,” Kayce turns to look at you, his smile now returning.  “What?” 

“Did you ever tell him?” 

“Yes.” 

“So did you lie?” It’s an odd thing to say, really.  It shouldn’t be hard for you to admit that yes you loved him or no you didn’t.  It felt right at the time but hindsight is always twenty twenty.  Now, you’re unsure just how you felt about him, “So what you mean is you didn’t love him like you loved me?” 

“No,” definitely not what you meant.  Right?  All those years weren’t a lie.  You had fun.  You enjoyed yourself.  You loved, and felt loved, and — so easily left it for here.  And Kayce.  “I didn’t say that.” 

“You didn’t have to,” he looks towards you, slowing his horse down, but your mind is racing too much to try and look at him.  You need space again, and yet have to stay.  You want to run, but towards him or away from him?  You knew that the forever there complicated feelings towards Kayce would return the moment you saw him, but you weren’t prepared for this.  And if you left again, those feelings would remain.  Eventually you’ll have to explore those feelings.    

Questioning your relationship was not something you had planned.  You loved him, but could live without him.  It’s why you chose to come here.  Back home.  And to him.  So why is it so hard to admit that out loud, and to Kayce.  Why does this man crowd your brain space, and make you question every decision you’ve ever made. 

The only reason you left Montana was to get space from him.  You needed to breathe and make sense out of everything going on.  And to find yourself without him in it.  Without anyone in your life.  To know you could do it.  Kayce was supposed to give you time to figure this out.  You could have a life out of this bubble.  

This beautiful, amazing bubble. 

“Why did you come back?” 

“This is the place that has always felt like home.” 

“Because it’s where I’m at,” he sure is cocky.  Brazenly full of himself.  Part of this being home is him.  But that doesn’t mean that you are referring to him as home.  It means… “You can deny it all you want, but…” 

Kayce clicks his tongue, and starts a faster gallop, leaving you contemplating what he said.  It’s what he does.  He weasels into your brain, and makes you think and question things.  And then he finds himself in your pants, and then in your heart.  But that isn’t the concerning thing, the concerning part is not fully knowing if he is correct.  And do you want him there?  

“You know what I always liked about that girl?” Kayce looks up at his dad, confusion laced in his eyes.  “She never tried to change you.” 

“Who?” 

“Oh, are you still denying that you had a thing with Rip’s little orphan project?” Instead of responding, his son takes another bite of food.  The two of you weren’t exactly quiet about your feelings for one another, but you also didn’t parade it around.  “I see.  So she comes back to town, being hired on as a personal vet or wrangler, I can’t keep up.  And the first thing she does is go on the trail with you, and rides right beside you?  Okay.” 

John eats a piece of meat, smiling at his son who still says nothing.  “You speak more when she’s around.” 

“Are we going to talk about Bronc this whole dinner?” 

“Still got that same nickname for her.  How do you feel about her sharing a bunkhouse with a bunch of men?” Kayce despises it.  Hates even thinking about someone getting too close to you.  He’d offer for you to stay with him, but you’d immediately jump to conclusions.  You could sleep where you wanted to, but he did have an extra room.  “I see.  Must make you sick to think about all those cowboys around fresh meat. We know Bronc can take care of herself.  But she did just get out of a relationship because he didn’t want to take things to the next step.” 

“He didn’t want to move to Montana.” 

“Where she wanted to get married, and settle down with him,” John shrugs as he wipes his mouth with his napkin.  “She’s quite vulnerable.  Don’t push her, but don’t have her too far away from you,” he nods as he pushes his chair back from the table.  “You should offer her some of the food Gator made.  I’m sure it’s better than whatever microwave food she’s got there.” 

—

There is a lot of freedom being here.  However, the food sucks.  You’ll have to remedy that soon.  Sitting out on the porch, you kick up your feet, and inhale deeply.  Letting the mountains absorb your problems.  Hope that they will, so you have some clarity.  

Even with everyone in the bunkhouse carrying on and playing a game of poker, you feel relaxed.  Today felt good.  You didn’t exactly know what your job here would entail; maybe you���d need to travel to some other ranches and tend to their animals.  But tonight, it’s just you.  And the annoying music coming from somewhere.

You won’t let it bother you.  

You don’t care if it’s annoying ‘country’ music.  What even is that shit?  Nope.  It won’t bother you.  You’ll just sit and eat your microwave Mac and cheese, and ignore whatever is going on over there.  This is your bubble.  Your safe space.  You are calm and collected.  Not annoyed at all.

That music is just very obnoxious, and you swear it’s getting louder.  You could ask them to be quiet.  You don’t even know whose cabin it is.  Someone that works here, obviously.  But it’s like they're purposefully trying to get under your skin.  

You sigh as you stand up stretching.  Going inside the bunkhouse would involve you trying to ignore the wranglers.  While not impossible, you’re now more curious as to who is being obnoxious.  It won’t hurt to go check it out.  

Making sure to throw your garbage away, you start to head towards the door, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Lloyd calls after you, but you don’t listen.  Don’t even turn around.  You have some exploring to do.  

You have to know.  Need to know who it is.  You don’t have far to walk judging by the sound.  It’s close.  Far enough away from the bunkhouse for some privacy.  There’s nobody here that would hurt you.  There could be other things that could be dangerous. 

“What are you doing out alone?!” You spin around, and hit him due to your veins coursing with  adrenaline.  “Ow, you still got an arm on you,” Kayce winces, rubbing his arm. 

“Why the fuck are you sneaking up on me in the middle of the night?” Whisper screaming as you hit him again.  “What is wrong with you, and what is the deal with this shitty music?” 

“So the music worked?” You stare at him dumbfounded, trying to figure out what he’s meaning.  “It got you over here, didn’t it?” 

“You ass, Kayce Dutton.  I was minding my business, eating dinner, and looking at the stars.” 

“Your dinner wasn’t good enough,” you have to look away when he licks his lips.  Causing every fiber in your body to heat up.  Being with him alone in the dark is a sure fire way to get you in trouble.  You’re resisting the urge.  You could fall for Kayce again, just not tonight. 

“Yeah, and what are you going to do about it?” 

“I brought a plate from the lodge,” bare minimum.  Don’t fall for this.  This is barely anything.  You want him to work if he wants to get you back.  And you know you shouldn’t rush into anything serious.  With Kayce it will be serious.  “I can heat it up.  We can dance, talk, watch a movie, sit out here?” he smiles sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. 

“We’re not dancing to this shit.” 

“Of course not.” 

“And I don’t think dancing is something we should do,” he nods his head yes, agreeing to that.  “We can sit out and stare at the stars, and I’m going back to the bunkhouse.” 

“I have an extra bed.” 

“But I won’t stay in it.”

“Why’s that?” Kayce steps too close to you, invading your bubble, and it’s hard to breathe.  Be strong.  Do not fall for this.  If you want to be with Kayce the wait will be worth it.  You want to be able to give you and him the best possible chance.  Start from the beginning. 

“Because I am weak when it comes to you, and I don’t want to be.  So my happy little ass will walk right back to that bunkhouse, and I’m going to sleep there.  And tomorrow is a new day, and you’re going to stop flirting so hard.” 

“I can try and do that,” his hand brushes away the baby hairs off your forehead, and you fight not to lean into him.  Glancing down to his left hand, you count this small moment as a win.  

“Thank you,” you whisper to him before spinning around, and walking towards the cabin. 

“Why?” 

“If I have to tell you it doesn’t have the same gravity,” he smiles serenely before jumping in front of you to open the door.  He’s had that ugly ring off twice now.  It’s a small thing that should not mean much, and yet it does.  You just hope that he keeps it off.  Because you can’t handle another heartbreak like that.

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@tis-thedamn-season @theinheriteddutchess

[rubyyuna]

hey so how do you think Lilia vanrouge would deal with having a s/o where they’re hanging out, he doesn’t need as much sleep as other people and his mind is very active at night more than day, his s/o falls asleep in his room at some point in his presence for the first time?

Thank you so much for the request! You’re the first person to ask for multiple requests before and I feel very appreciated. So, I hope you enjoy my response!

You and Lilia have only been dating for a few months now and yet he treats you like you’ve been together for, well, forever. He’s always floating around you with the same old cheeky grin on his face, without a care in the world. Despite this, you can never manage to bring yourself to fully relax around him. Maybe that’s due to your anxious nature or the fact that you two haven't been dating for too long. But either way, Lilia invited you to have a game night, and you plan on making the most of it.

You knock once, no answer.

You knock again, no answer. 

You’re about to turn around and leave, maybe he’s hanging out somewhere else in diasomnia, when suddenly- 

“BOO”

You practically jump out of your skin, swiftly turning around in horror. Of course, it's only Lilia, hanging upside down with a grin on his face. Lilia only laughs as you look at him with wide eyes. 

“Fufufu, you’re always so easy to scare, Yuu!” He rests his hands over his stomach as if in pain from laughing so hard. 

You’re out of breath, still having not recovered from the shock. “That… was not funny…” You breathe out. 

Lilia only laughs more as he floats off of the ceiling and onto the floor. Although his laughter does die down a bit after a while. “Fufu~ Sorry, sorry, I just couldn’t help it.” You’re still trying to compose yourself when Lilia suddenly starts pushing you inside his room without warning. “Now, enough of that, let's have some fun, okay!"

As hours of gaming pass by, you get increasingly tired and yet Lilia somehow still looks like he could run a marathon. You don’t know how he manages to be so energetic, especially with him being such an old fae. It doesn’t take long for Lilia to notice your sleepiness though. 

He places down his controller (that he has connected to his computer for you two to play) and rests his cheek in his palm, glancing over at you. “Are you tired? I suppose I have kept you up past your bedtime, haven't I?” 

You wave off his comments. “Not really. I’ve just had a long day, that's all.” 

“Then…” Lilia trails off for a moment (almost intentionally so) before continuing, “Why don’t you stay here for the night, instead of going back to your dorm? If you do, then I can read you a bedtime story or maybe sing you a song?” 

You pause for a moment at Lilia’s offer. While you are hesitant, considering this will be the first time sleeping over at his dorm, you feel oddly compelled to agree. So, hesitantly, you nod. “Alright, but no bedtime stories. I’m not a child…” 

Lilia chuckles softly before, and without warning, guiding your head to rest on his lap. “Singing it is then.” Before you can protest, Lilia has already started running his fingers through your hair and humming a song, one that sounds oddly familiar. You could’ve sworn you heard Malleus humming it once before. 

But you don’t have much time to ponder on it as your eyes slowly start to flutter shut and you drift off into a deep sleep. 

“Sleep well now, Yuu… I’ll be right here when you wake up.” 

Thank you again for the request. As someone who has an unhealthy obsession with Lilia, I hope this writing of mine is satisfactory.

:Also requests are open if anyone is interested.

[cringe--is--dead]

Nekoma x Reader; manager!reader

You Won’t Be Alone

“You need to join a club— something. Anything!”

Your parents' concerns rang loud in your head. It wasn’t your fault you had to move schools in the beginning of your second year. You had friends, you had clubs and things you participated in. Now you had nothing. A few friendly classmates, sure, but that was all.

Clubs were almost entirely filled at this rate anyways, and anyone that was still accepting members meant you had to go meet new people who already formed their own groups. You’d be the outcast, more than you already felt like you were.

Idly, you kicked at a rock that was laying on the ground beneath your feet; you were trying to kill time, hoping to brainstorm some solution before you made your way home.

The art club? There were some mediums you were decent at, but you also saw some of the showcases from other students— safe to say that club had some artists that would most definitely be studied in the future.

What about the literature club? While you enjoyed reading, something about reading at school made the notion far less fun. Not to mention you had met the club leader earlier that month, and while nice, she was intimidating.

Grumbling to yourself, you stopped walking, leaning against one of the building's walls, watching birds fly overhead. They cawed at each other, and the group in the sky made you feel more alone.

Great, you mused, jealous of birds now.

Your thought process was interrupted, rather sharply, as you watched a ball come flying out of the building you had been leaning against. Lucky for you, you were nowhere near the door— the speed at which the ball hit the dirt would have definitely bruised you.

Pushing forward, you decided to be a decent person, picking the ball up and moving slowly to the open gym door. You hadn’t made a point to pay attention to any of the teams your school had, not out of disdain but mostly fear.

If you showed any interest your dad would definitely force you to partake in some way.

“Um,” You stopped at the entrance of the door, holding the ball tightly in your arms, watching as the people before you continued moving.

Volleyball.

One of the people, one of the coaches you supposed, noticed you, coming over to retrieve the ball.

“Thank you,” He spoke softly, smiling at you, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses, “They’ve been a bit overzealous lately.”

You nodded, handing the ball over, your eyes drifting back to those practicing.

You recognized one of them, some of them were in your year.

Fukanaga Shohei. You and he weren’t close by any means, but he was funny.

“They’re good, aren’t they?”

The coach's voice made you jump, cheeks flushing as you realized you had been staring.

“Oh— I’m sorry!” You turned, bowing in an apology, “I just…”

He smiled at you, “I’m coach Naoi.”

You introduced yourself, “Second year. I actually just transferred here a few weeks ago.”

“I hope the school’s been treating you well.”

You smiled, “No complaints yet.”

“Oi, Naoi!” The pair of you turned, the older coach having caught on to his assistant being distracted, “Care to invite your guest in?”

His shouting caused the team to look over, a lul in their practice as they took in the presence of an outsider. Your face felt like it was on fire.

“Oh— no! I’m so sorry! I was just returning a ball!”

Naoi chuckled, “One second,” He turned to you, eyebrow raising slightly, “You can come watch if you want.”

“I— I wouldn’t want to impose,” You crossed your arms, still feeling the gaze of the team on you.

“Are we getting a manager?” The question sounded more like a shout, and one of the members clutched his chest rather dramatically, “Take that Karasuno!”

“If you don’t scare her off with your shouting,” He either hadn’t heard the dig aimed at him or didn’t care.

Cautiously, you removed your sneakers, sock covered feet against the floor beneath you as you followed behind coach Naoi, keeping your gaze lowered.

“Well?” The older coach turned his attention back to his team, “Get on with it! Yamamoto, get up.”

You took a seat next to him, shoes laid across your lap, bag pressed close to your calves.

“Coach Nekomata,” He introduced himself to you, barely taking his attention from his team, “You join any clubs yet?”

“Oh, uh,” You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry, “No. Not yet. I haven’t found a good fit yet.”

“Lev, your receives still suck.”

“Yaku!”

You focused your attention forward, watching as the taller guy, one you somehow hadn’t noticed yet, got scolded, his shoulders drooping into himself.

“You have any interest in volleyball?”

You side eyed the man, his posture relaxed and unbothered, and you heard Naoi sigh from your other side.

“I… think it’s an interesting sport.”

“Oh?” He sounded amused, “Just interesting?”

You watched the balls fly around the court, people yelling out praises or playful insults at one another, “Yeah. Only ever seen it on TV a few times.”

“Hm,” He nodded, saying nothing more.

The three of you lapsed into silence, merely watching as the warmups switched, and you felt yourself losing tension in your body. Watching them was entertaining, the way they played and talked— they made it look fun.

They were all drenched in sweat, heavy breathing, some of their forearms looked red as did their knees. But they were smiling and laughing, though winded they may be.

“Yamamoto, the loudmouth, is right in his own way,” Coach Nekomata’s voice seemed to snap you back to reality, and you turned to look at him curiously, finding his attention already on you, “We could use a manager. Lord knows I could use the help with these hard heads.”

“Kenma, set it up!”

The one that had shouted when you came in was, once again, shouting. You didn’t know how to respond to the coach, so you turned, watching as the one with longer dyed hair set the ball, and the loudmouth, Yamamoto, went running forward.

He jumped, and in a split second, hit the ball over the net, the sound echoing in the gym, and you swore you felt the air from the ball move your hair.

“Woah,” You almost whispered the simple praise to yourself, unaware of the smug look on Coach Nekomata’s face, and the bemused one on Coach Naoi’s.

You licked your lips, turning away from where Yamamoto was singing his own praises, “Would I learn?”

You clarified, “If I… became a manager. I’d have to learn how volleyball works, first. Then how to actually be a good manager. I— I don’t have experience with either of those.”

Nekomata smiled at you, a kind look on his face, “Our team does one thing best above all else— connecting. If you become our manager, you wouldn’t be learning on your own, you won’t be alone. This I promise.”

You sighed, looking back towards the court. They seemed to be taking a small break, the unnamed members talking and joking, the one who had set the ball was getting his hair messed with, though he looked annoyed, he didn’t move away to stop it.

You won’t be alone.

That sounded… nice.

“How do I apply?”

[cloudcountry]

I sent my request via dms but I'm still sending an ask for the sake of it, woops

Remember to hydrate and unshrimp :}

SUMMARY: idia doesn't how how to react when you show up at his door late at night and reveal something as earth shattering as your most recent breakup.

COMMENTS: we talked about this in dms but i hope you like the finished product!! <3

I CANT TELL IF THIS OR ANGST OR FLUFF. MAN.

reading this against its def angst oops

idia has issues but you're gonna get him through them trust 💪

The sound of mindless clicking, fans whirring, and Idia’s steady breathing are the only sounds that can be heard this late at night. It’s not that the residents of Ignihyde are sleeping—no, they’re all tucked away in their rooms, either tinkering with new tech or in the same position Idia is now. His lower back starts to ache from his slouched position in his chair, and so he straightens out his back to ease the pain. His spine cracks once, twice, thrice before settling down, and Idia promptly falls back into his old posture.

He briefly hears your voice in his mind, a reminder to sit up straight and not surf the web too late. He blinks slowly, briefly considering obeying your imaginary command, before he rationalizes using his PC more because you’re not actually here, you’re out with your boyfriend right now.

Or so he thinks.

It’s as though he summoned you, your knock on his door, a secret knock that only you would ever use. Idia insisted on a precaution like that so he’d know when it was safe to open the door and when it wasn’t. So far you hadn’t abused the privilege, never using it when you had friends with you. In fact, Idia was fairly certain you’d created a new knocking pattern recently when you had friends with you, just so he could know it was okay to respond but he didn’t have to open the door if he didn’t want to.

It's the knock that tells him you're alone.

So this time, he wants to.

He stands up, pushing his gamer chair to the side as his joints creak from being held in one position for far too long. He stalks over to the door, shaking hands reaching towards the doorknob. Because of your boyfriend, he’s always kept his feelings about you under wraps, wanting your happiness first and foremost. Besides, in what world would anyone be interested in him? He wouldn’t even want to associate with you like that, the thought of dragging you into his darkness was too much.

The doorknob turns and his door creaks open, a sliver of light spilling into his room until the rest of it is blocked by you. Idia opens his mouth to ask what you’re doing at his door this late, especially since you have a boyfriend and if anyone should be hanging out with you this late it really should be him and—

And—

And you have never looked more serious. It makes the words die in his throat, his lips parted like a fool.

“Do you have time to talk?” you ask softly, shifting from foot to foot in your pajamas and oh Great Seven, did you walk across campus like that? There were so many bugs out at night and snakes too, and what if you tripped because you couldn’t see where you were going? You came alone, WHY would you come alone this late? You could have gotten hurt—

His hands are twitching as your eyes drift down towards them, watching silently as they shake towards and away from you, like he wants to touch you but isn’t sure if he can. You initiate, taking his hands in yours and gently pushing him back into his room, nudging the door shut with your foot as quietly as possible.

“Um...what are you doing here this late?” Idia asks softly, his hands in yours, still twitching restlessly.

“I had to tell you something. It’s nothing bad on your part, before you start overthinking. It’s something to do with my boyfriend, now ex.” you say, each word purposeful and slow, like you’re picking your words very carefully in your sleepy haze.

“You broke up?” Idia murmurs, ignoring the way his heart jumps in his throat. 

Of course he’s happy you’re single now. Of course he is. But that doesn't mean now is the time to start fantasizing about actually dating you. Oh who is he kidding, he wouldn’t be starting that, he’s been doing that. The last thing he needs to his feelings getting in the way and making things hard for you, you’ve been his best friend for years now, ever since he came to NRC you’ve always been in his corner, even though sometimes you don’t get to see each other that often and he’s not going to fuck this up because he likes you more than he should, no way is he going to fuck this up—

“Yeah. We broke up a few weeks ago.” you say, moving your hands from his and pressing them into your thighs.

“Oh.” Idia says dumbly.

You smile weakly, glancing around his room before gesturing to his bed. Idia feels his heart in his throat again—it’s the only place with room to sit, yeah, but it’s so messy and oh Great Seven what if his manga makes you think he’s weird and you never want to speak to him again.

You don’t even spare a glance at his mess. You just sit down and clench your hands in your lap, watching him as he sits down next to you. His eyes land on your hands, white knuckled and shaking, and it squeezes his heart when he thinks about just what your boyfriend could have done to hurt you like this.

Your ex, he means. Your ex. He’s never going to be your boyfriend again, even if he apologizes, because as much as you’re hurting right now Idia knows you'll only come back stronger for it.

It’s one of the reasons why he admires you so much.

“It...wasn’t something I was planning on broadcasting. And as far as I know, he hasn’t told anyone either. Not that he’s good at telling people things.” you remark bitterly, a frown twisting your lips.

“Was he not talking to you?” Idia asks, balling his hands into fists in his lap much like you.

“No. He wasn’t.” you sigh, looking down at his floor, “He wasn’t at all.”

His room grows silent again, but Idia hopes you don’t hear the gears in his brain turning. He wants to make things better for you, he wants to make sure all the time you have left with each other is good for you, he wants to make sure you can live the rest of your life happy with the knowledge that you’ll never have to think about this guy.

He wants you to be happy so he can let you go after you two become seniors.

“Is...there anything I can do?” he mumbles, eyes darting around the room for a distraction, “Um, I made a mini planetarium projection for Ortho since he likes the stars so much and I think I have it somewhere in here—”

He knows exactly where it is. Like he’d ever forget.

“—I have some games, um...which ones do you like? I probably have something—”

He’s fairly certain you’d love the game sitting on the bottom shelf of his desk. It reminds him of you whenever he plays it.

“—or would you like to watch anime? Read a manga? You can leave too, that’s okay, just let me walk you home so you don’t get hurt—”

Not again, at least. But he’ll do anything to keep you here with him.

You cut him off with a small giggle, your balled up fists now pressed up against your face in relaxed palms, covering your mouth as your eyes crinkle in the corners.

“I’d love to stay. Thank you, Idia.” you smile softly and move your hands away from your mouth, and Idia feels his heart jump into his throat again because of course you’d know.

You’ve always known.

He swallows back a wave of sadness as his mind reminds me once again that he will leave you one day, and that day will come sooner than he wants it too, that he’s cursed and he shouldn’t taint you too—

“Anything is good as long as it’s with you.” you laugh quietly, falling back onto his bed with a soft thump.

It’s like you were always meant to be there.

[doitforbangchan]

La petit mort - K.S

Pairing: Non-idol!Seungmin x reader

Warnings: Afab/fem reader, smut, death. im keeping this vague for the mystery aspect- read at your own risk. Not proofread :)

WC: 4.9k

Happy Halloween yall 🎃 masterlist

“Have you seen the news?” 

“I heard they found the body in the river.” 

“The cops are saying there's a serial killer on the loose.” 

“Another victim was found behind a dumpster all mangled.” 

“Each one is more violent and gory than the rest.”

Everywhere you turned someone was talking about the recent string of murders in your area. For weeks all anyone could talk about was this supposed ‘serial killer’, and after a fifth body was found last night the mania has only increased. Even here at work it was inescapable. The scariest part though, was that you recognized a few of the victims. Not very personally, but you had mingled with them and even flirted with one. And now they were dead. 

“Hey y/n?” 

You jumped as your thoughts were broken and your eyes tore away from your computer screen. Behind you leaning against the opening of your cubicle was your coworker and newly made friend Seungmin. 

“Seung, you scared me!” You scrunched your face at him, then flipped him off when he laughs. 

He brought his hands up and wiggled his fingers at you, “Scared I’m gonna get you like that killer? Ooooo better watch out!” 

You rolled your eyes, “You know, each victim so far has been a man so I think you’re the one who better watch out or you're gonna be next.” You teased him with a giggle.

Seungmin had started working for your company a few months ago, first as a temp then he was hired on as a full company employee. You were both fast friends since you both liked to poke fun. What had started as him teasing you about the Kuromi calendar on your cubicle wall turned into a wonderful friendship and dare you say- a flirtationship. 

“As if.” He scoffed. “I’m not stupid enough to get caught by someone like that.” 

You hummed, “Hm, could’a fooled me.” He scowled at you, causing you to laugh. 

“Well I was gonna invite you to a show tonight, but if you’re gonna be an ass then forget it.” 

“A show? Who’s playing?” You inquired, your interest now peaked. 

Seungmins lips curled into a sinister smirk, “No one important.. Just 3Racha.” 

“No way!” You shot out of your seat in excitement. The shit eating grin on his face told you he was serious. “Ahh Seung!” You launched yourself at him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You had told him many times how much you loved the group and would love to see them live.

“I don’t know why you’re getting so excited, I revoked my invitation, remember?” His tone was light but still sassy as he jested and hugged you back. 

“Nope! You put it out into the universe, you can’t take it back!” You squealed and hugged him tighter, then remembered you were still at work and had to act in a more professional manner. You released him quickly and took a step back, your face flush with embarrassment as you cleared your throat. “I mean, it sounds like a good time.” 

Seungmin chuckled at your cute change of attitude. “They’re playing at that new venue across town, the small one with the bar. S’ not much but I figured you’d wanna go.” He shrugged in nonchalance. “I can uh, pick you up if you want.” 

You nodded enthusiastically, a bright smile on your face. “That would be great!” 

“Awesome.” He rubbed the back of his neck as if he was suddenly feeling sheepish, a faint pink creeping up his ears. “It’s a date then.” 

The rest of the work day went by so slowly, the hours passing by at a snail's pace making you want to pull your hair out. You weren’t just excited for the concert but to go out with Seungmin. On a date. A real date. So far you had only hung out as friends, usually with at least another person from your friend group so this was a brand new experience. And you were beyond nervous and excited. 

You had worked out the details together before you had gone home to change, deciding you would get there a few minutes early to get a drink or two before it started. After getting home you took a quick shower, then put on a pair of black ripped jeans that hugged your ass just right and a maroon colored corset crop top. Adding a red lip and a smokey eye to complete the look. You hoped Seungmin would like it, you really wanted to impress him tonight. 

At exactly 8:00 there was a knock at your door. You slipped on your sneakers and opened the door. Seungmin was leaning after your doorframe with his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face. He was wearing a black t-shirt and dark wash jeans and boots, looking both comfortable and stylish at the same time. And so so hot. 

His eyes raked over your form, making you mildly self conscious. “What are you looking at?” You said playfully to get his attention off your body. 

His eyes snapped to yours, then they rolled at you, “God forbid I appreciate the outfit you clearly put some effort into. You look great, by the way.. For a gremlin.” 

You smacked his arm making him laugh, then you lightly shoved him away so you could lock your door. “Says the troll.” 

He leads you down to his car and even opens the door for you, making you secretly swoon. The drive over to the venue was nice, he played songs from 3Rachas latest album getting you both pumped for the performance. 

The venue was small, more like a hole in the wall club with a stage in it, but it had a tiny outside area with a fire pit. Luckily it wasn’t that packed yet and the two of you were able to get to the bar pretty quickly. Seungmin paid for your drink no matter how much you had insisted since he had gotten your ticket. 

As Seungmin was talking to the bartender about what drinks you wanted you felt a body come up next to you and lean on the bar. “Hey there, gorgeous. Can I buy you a drink?” 

You looked over to see a decently good looking guy, giving you a flirty look. You shook your head with a polite smile, “No thank yo-” 

“Her boyfriend already bought her one.” Seungmins voice was a borderline growl from behind you. Your head swiveled around to see him glaring at the guy. “Get fucking lost.” 

“Seung..” You said quietly. 

The man put his hands up in defense, “My bad bro, didn’t know. Just trying to shoot my shot.” 

“Well shoot your shot on someone else.” Seungmin handed you your drink then led you away from the bar and towards the stage area. 

“What was that?” You asked in a hushed tone. “Why did you get so hostile?” 

“That guy is a fucking creep, he looked at you like you were a piece of meat.” He sneered, “You don’t need that shit.” He seemed to sense how his change in temperament made you nervous so he dialed it down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so possessive. I just didn’t like his vibe, it was gross.” 

You placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned into him slightly, “I wasn’t expecting it, is all. And I definitely didn’t expect you to say my boyfriend bought me a drink.”

 He was lucky it was dark or you would have seen how flushed he became. “I uh -well I mean- uhh.” You had never seen him so tongue tied and it was both alarming and adorable at the same time. 

With a coo you reached up and pinched his cheek. “Aw Seung, it’s ok no need to get flustered, you can be my boyfriend if you want too. ” Seung swatted your hand away and scowled at you slightly. “No I’m serious, I do really like you and would love to have you as my boyfriend, Minnie.”

 He broke into a giddy grin. “I mean, since you're practically begging I guess I could be your boyfriend.” You rolled your eyes and reached up and gave his arm a swift pinch. “Ow! I see how it is, you weasel your way into my life then you abuse me? That’s just cruel.” Seungmin couldn’t help but break character at the end and let out a laugh, then pulled you into his arms. 

You hugged him in return. Just as you were about to lean up and kiss him the lights in the room dimmed and the stage lights turned on. You spun around quickly to see the group run on stage. You let out a squeal and grabbed Seungmins hand. This was going to be a night you would never forget! 

It was a little over an hour into the show now. You were dancing and singing along to each song, the drink in your system making you feel extra good. Seung had been beside you bopping along and laughing at your joyful antics. 

“Hey, I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick.” He leaned in and spoke in your ear. You nodded, giving him a thumbs up. “Do not go anywhere, stay right here please.” He added, his eyes giving you a serious stare. 

“I promise I’ll stay right here.” You kissed his cheek then looked back at the stage. He gave you a pleased smile and left you to your devices. 

It was about 15 minutes later that he returned to you. “Sorry, those lines are long. Did I miss anything good?” 

“Duh it’s all good!” You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck as a slower beat started to play. “But you made it back for my favorite song, sooo I can’t be upset.” He placed his hands on your hips, pulling your body flush against him. Being this close you could see a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, “are you alright, Min? You look a little.. Off.” 

He shook his head, dismissing your concerns. “Yeah I’m good, s’ just hot in here, there's a lot of people in here.” 

You nodded in understanding. “Well I hope you’re not too hot for a dance?” 

He smirked down at you, “For you? Never too hot.” 

He suddenly twirled you around, making you giggle then he pulled you back into him, his hand in yours. No one else around you was dancing like this, they were all jumping around or being crazy, and it made it feel extra romantic- that it was like the two of you were in your own little world. 

You both swayed together as you looked up at him taking note of all his handsome features. With a bated breath, giving him time to pull away if he wanted, you leaned up slowly and gave him a chaste kiss to his lips. 

With a deep flush to your face you gave him a shy smile. Before you could say anything he grabbed your face and pulled you into a deep kiss. You let out a gasp of surprise then melted into him, letting him run his tongue along your bottom lip. 

You put your hand on his chest as you tasted his mouth, the light lingering taste of his beer making this even sweeter. Now you were certain that tonight was special. You hadn’t had this much fun or been this enamored in a very long time. It was perfect. 

A loud blood curdling scream brought you out of your dreamlike state, making you quickly jump away from Seungmin. 

“THERE’S A BODY IN THE ALLEYWAY”

“HELP! HE’S DEAD OH MY GOD HE’S DEAD!” 

Someone screamed, causing a massive panic to spread over the crowd. Seungmin grabbed your hand before you could even react, yanking you towards the exit. “Time to go.” He said while maneuvering you both around the clusters of people.  

You could hear another person yell out, “SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE!” 

“What the fuck is going on?” You questioned as you went out the exit, your eyes were wild as they flickered to Seungmin in terror. 

“I don’t know, but we’re not sticking around to find out.” He answered, remaining steadfast on getting you both the fuck out of there. 

“Seung..” You clung to him as you entered the parking lot. You could faintly hear the sound of approaching sirens, as someone must have immediately called the police. “I’m scared.” You couldn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “What- what if it’s that serial killer? Oh my god, what if they were there with us?” 

“Y/n, I would never let anything happen to you. I will always protect you.” There was no amusement in his voice as he spoke to you, leading you to the car and opening your door. He leaned in and buckled your shaking form, then rested a hand on your face again making you look at him. “Hey, I’m serious. I will keep you safe. Do you trust me?”

With a shaky breath you nodded, “Yes, I trust you.” 

“Good. Now let me keep you safe by getting the fuck out of here.” 

He climbed into the driver's seat, starting the car and swiftly driving away. Seungmin offered to drive you home but you really did not want to go back there alone and his house was closer. He took you to his place, keeping an arm wrapped around you the whole time as he unlocked his door until it was closed and locked again. 

His house was small, and looking around it was very clean. Borderline too clean. As if it was barely even lived in. Odd, but maybe he just liked his place to be really tidy. 

Seungmin led you to the couch, sitting you down. “I’ll grab you some water, help you sober up a little bit.” 

You nodded and leaned back into the cushions. A minute later he returned with a glass for you. You accepted it with a quiet thank you, taking a much needed sip. It was then that you looked at the clock on the wall and noticed how late it had gotten. 

“Oh shit I didn’t realize it was already almost midnight. I should call an uber or something to take me home.” You took out your phone but it was lowered by Seungs hand. 

“You can stay here if you want. It’s already really late and after everything that happened I don’t think I’d trust a rando to take you home.” 

Thinking about it you came to the conclusion that he was right and you also did not want to spend your night alone. “Ok, only if you don’t mind.” 

“Of course I don’t mind. You’re my girlfriend now after all, you can stay whenever you want.” He smiled warmly then offered you his hand. “Come on, I’ll get you some pjs.” 

His room was a little messier, with his bed not neatly made and a few plants by the window. Seungmin opened his dresser and grabbed some sweats and a baggy shirt, handing them to you. You thanked him and without even thinking about you began stripping. Or maybe you thought about it a little bit, glancing at him when you pulled down your pants to see him gulp then awkwardly avert his eyes. 

After you were dressed in the pjs you threw yourself at his bed, then opened your arms as an invitation for him to join you. He threw his own sweats on and took off his shirt, giving you a quick view of his broad chest. 

Ever since you had met him you had thought Seungmin was cute- sexy even- to an extreme degree. But seeing him tonight revved that up to a hundred. The way he had gotten you out of danger and brought you to safety, how he had stayed calm and collected during the chaos.. He was like your knight in shining armor, and you wanted to thank him personally. 

Seungmin climbed in with a snicker after turning off the light, letting you wrap around him before he pulled the blankets over both your forms. After adjusting to have you resting upon his chest he let out a deep sigh of content. 

“Are you alright, Seung?” You whispered into the darkness after hearing his sigh. You let your hand rest atop his chest, running softly along his skin. 

“More than alright, babe.” He answered then kissed the top of your head. “What about you? That shit was pretty traumatic.” 

You nodded, “Yeah, m’ alright. Happy to be here with you.” You then poked him in the chest, “Don’t let it get to your head though!”

His chest rumbled from his deep chuckles at your antics, “Never.” The hand you had on him very slowly moved down to his stomach, tracing the light trail of hair and making his breath lighty hitch. “What are you up to, little devil?” 

“Nothin,” your answer was coy as you continued to lower your hand, “Just wanted to.. Thank you for keeping me safe tonight.” 

“Oh yeah?” The smirk on his lips was incredibly clear in his voice. One of his own hands came up to pet along the side of your thigh. “Thank me how?” 

Finally you made your way to the front of his sweats, feeling his bulge that was steadily growing under your touch. You kissed his neck tenderly as you palmed him, his whine and buck of his hips giving you the confirmation you needed that he wanted you to touch him just as much as you wanted to give it to him. 

“Nnngh, so that’s how. Alright sweetheart, you can thank me in any way you want.” He groaned slightly, the husk in his voice causing a flood in your own underwear. 

With tentative movements you pulled the band of his sweats down his thighs until his member was released. The man let out a slight hiss when your hand made contact with his now bare skin. From what you could tell by feeling alone he was big. Big enough that you couldn’t even fully wrap your fingers around him. You briefly wondered if that would even fit inside of you. 

“That’a girl. Go ahead and rub the tip fo’ me.” You did as he requested, your thumb running over the slit on his tip and collecting the precum that was beginning to leak out and using it as lubricant on his dick. “Fuck, that’s it baby.” 

Seungmins fingers traveled from your thigh to your own covered center, giving you a quick circle motion over the bottoms then diving his hand into them, finding your now drenched core. “Mm, Seung.” You whined when his fingers expertly found your clit. 

“Jesus christ you're so wet. What made you so sopping, honey? You like using your hand to get me off, hmm?” He had a bite to his voice that was both teasing and dominating that made you flood even further. As if he could feel it he commented, “ Fuck you do like it don’t you? Bet you like my own fingers buried in your sweet cunt too huh?” Then he shoved two long digits into you, making your hips buck into him and a wanton moan escaped you. 

With a rapid nod you clenched down on his fingers, “Uh huh, so good Seung.” 

“I know love, I know. But you know what would feel even better?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Let me put my cock in you instead of my fingers.”

 You clenched down on him again at the suggestion, “Yes please. Want it.” As soon as the words left your lips you were suddenly thrown onto your back with your head bouncing off his pillow, a gasp of surprise leaving your lips. The sheets were torn off of the both of you and your bottoms were yanked down and off your legs as well, until your lower half was completely bared to him. 

He climbed on top of you and crashed his mouth against yours, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip making you squeal from the small burst of pain. You could feel him lineup his member with your hole, his tip going to push into you slowly. 

Your back arched at the intrusion. You were right, he was big. So big that you could feel your walls squeezing the life out of him as he stretched you out. “Seuunnggmiiinn oh my gooooood.” You cried into his neck as he fully seated himself inside of you.

“Fuck babe, you’re so fucking tight, you might just squeeze my dick off if you don’t relax.” Seungmin groaned, the bliss clearly overtaking him as he tried not to move too much and let you adjust. After a few moments you started to get used to his size within you and began to relax a little. “There we go, sweet thing. Imma move now, alright?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

With your go ahead he slowly started thrusting into you. You could feel each drag of his thickness against your walls, the sensation making you throw your head back in pleasure, your eyes half open and watery. Holding himself up with one arm he used the other to rub harsh figure eights on your sensitive nub that resides between you.

“God your so fucking beautiful.” He moaned, “Can’t believe I have the most perfect woman in my bed and that you're all mine.” He picked up his thrusts, the sound of skin slapping together filling the room. “M’ never letting you go. Not now that I have you. Never.” 

His words should have been alarming and at any other time they would have made you question what he meant- but your brain was turning to mush due to the intense amount of pleasure he was giving you. You could barely remember your own name nevermind the nonsense he was spewing. 

You could feel the dam within you about to break, your high about to crash over you. “S-seungminnie, I’m gonna- gonna cum.” 

“Do it. Cum all over my cock, baby. Give it to me now.” 

With a scream you came, the band snapping and giving way to euphoria, his name a jumbled mess as you clung to him and shook. “Min- Seung- minnie oh my god, nnghhh.” 

“Mmmm, good girl, feels so fucking good. Gonna cum, gonna fill you up and make you mine. Gonna pump you full.” He practically growled and put his face into your neck, sucking harsh dark marks onto your skin as a show of ownership. There was a sudden hotness that shot inside of you, coating your insides with his white essence. It was a good thing you were on birth control or you were sure that you would have gotten pregnant. 

Seungmin trembled as he finished giving you his load, his arms threatening to give out as he lowered his body to rest atop you. The sweaty man laid gentle kisses on your now marred skin, the softness being a great comfort for you. 

After a few moments he rolled off of you, curling you up into his side. You were so exhausted that as soon as he had exited you you had begun to drift off into a deep slumber, nuzzling into him until darkness took you. 

You were awoken by the sun shining through the windows the next morning. Blearily opening your eyes you looked around your surroundings, seeing you were still in Seungmins bed and you were still very naked. A heat rushed to your face when you remembered what you had done last night, a giddiness filling you. The man was beside you, snoring quietly as he kept sleeping. 

As much as you wanted to cuddle him and go back to sleep you could feel the remnants of your naughty activities coating your lower region. With a sigh you swung your legs over the edge, grabbing the fallen sweats and slipping them on. You noticed your phone on the nightstand and grabbed it on your way to the bathroom. You decided to go out into the hall bathroom as to not wake up Seungmin. 

While you were doing your business you opened your social media. As you were scrolling you came upon the news report for what happened at the venue last night. Curiosity got the better of you so you clicked on the link.

 Immediate shock filled you as you read the article. There was a picture of the victim from last night, and a deep chill rocked you when you saw that it was the man who offered to buy you a drink that had been murdered. According to the report his face was bashed in against a brick wall until his head had become mush. 

You were so engrossed and mortified by the article that when you left the bathroom you hadn’t noticed you opened the wrong door, and instead of going back into Seungmins room you found yourself in an entirely different room. 

A gasp of horror left you when you took in the contents of the new room. Along the walls were pictures of men- not just any men but all of the victims of the serial killer. Next to their face pictures were cut outs from news articles about their murders and graphic photographs of the crime. 

What the actual fuck is this? Why would he have all this?

Your eyes scanned the contents, seeing laid out maps of homes and locations. There was a deafening beating within your chest as your brain ran a million miles a second, trying to figure out just what you were seeing. With shaking legs you backed out of the dark room, not realizing you were no longer alone until your back met a sturdy chest. 

You spun around to find his hard stare, your own eyes wide with fright.

“You weren’t supposed to find this.” Seungmin spoke lowly, a sternness in his tone that sent shivers down your spine.

“S-seungmin, I-i don't understand, what is all of this?” You tried to back away from him but he grabbed you by your arms before you could, his fingers digging roughly into you making you wince. “Ow, Seungmin let me go.”

“I can’t. Don’t you see I can’t let you go? Not now when I have you. After everything I did for you, I can never let you go.”

Pure fright was the only thing that filled you as you came to realize exactly what he meant.

“Seungmin.. What did you do?” 

His face never changed as he yanked you to him forcefully, his nails threatening to leave bloody crescents from how hard he gripped you. You tried to swing your arms to get him off of you but he was too strong, pinning your arms down and shoving you vehemently down the hall until he reached another room you had never been. 

Seungmin swiftly opened the door then using his strength he shoved you into the room, your body falling to the hard floor. He closed it behind him quickly, his dark orbs trained on you. 

You were crying now, salty tears steadily streaming down your face. With a coo Seungmin crouched in front of you, reaching his hand out to wipe your tears. You shuffled back away from him, trying to create as much distance between you as possible. 

Seungmin sighed in frustration and stood up again. He began pacing and pulling at his hair, “I should have known you would have a bad reaction. I should have waited before bringing you here. But fuck I just couldn’t help myself. Stupid, I’m so fucking stupid.” 

“I- I don’t.. Seungmin what is going on?” You were practically begging for answers. 

“They had to go.” He said simply. “Each one of them was a threat to you- to us. I just knew if I let them live they would pursue you. They’d try to put their slimy disgusting hands on you, touch you as if they owned you. No, no I would- could never let that happen.” He crouched again, invading your space making you squeal and turn your head away. He grabbed your face and forcibly turned your head to face him. “You belong with me, not with them.” 

You tried to shake your head but his grip didn’t let you. “Seungmin.. This is insane. Yo-you can’t just kill someone because they talked to me.” 

A borderline evil smirk overtook his face, “But that’s the thing, I can. And I did. For you.” He leaned in closer so your noses were touching. Your whole body was shaking in complete fear. You couldn’t believe that the man you were falling for was a serial killer. That the playful, sassy man who danced with you and played smash bros could possibly be this twisted and lethal. 

His next words instilled terror in you that would stay with you for as long as you lived. 

“Everything I do is for you. But don’t worry, babe. Now that I have you here safe with me I don’t need to kill anyone else. Because no one is ever going to come near you again. It’ll be just you and I forever.” 

The deep pit within you told you exactly what he meant; you were never leaving here. He was going to keep you trapped in his web until your last breath. 

©doitforbangchan 2024

likes, comments and reblogs are encouraged! I love to hear feedback, it keeps me going :)

Permanent tags: @athforskz , @jehhskz and @seungfl0wer

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

hii! i love your casey x autistic!reader fics and i had a request. you know how in a lot of the episodes where the men get sa’d, they think it means they’re gay and they blow up in the interrogation room shouting slurs and everything? i’ve always wondered what it would be like for a queer detective to be in the room seeing someone say that in front of them. could you do something like that where a suspect gets defensive and starts spewing homophobic stuff in the interrogation room where detective!reader is interviewing them and casey is watching from behind the glass? pre-existing relationship if possible and maybe some fluff as well :)) these are just some ideas you can really do whatever you want - i give you full creative freedom 🙏

Hey, friend! Hope this is what you're looking for! Much love to you! 💕 –illdowhatiwantthanks

Interrogations

Casey Novak x autistic!fem!reader Warnings: homophobic comments, threats of sexual violence, autism times, police (duh), explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.2k

Summary: A threatening, homophobic outburst from a victim has you overstimulated and panicked. Casey is there to help calm you down. That is, if she can calm down herself.

“Sir, it’s in your best interest to be honest with us,” you said, rubbing your temples.

Round and round you’d gone with this man. This married man with 2.5 kids and a white picket fence. He’d been assaulted at a gay club, and the implications were clear. You sat down across from him. Your partner, Resendez, leaned against the back wall, letting you take the lead on this one. As the only out, queer detective working special victims, you were often the one they chose to interview queer victims or even suspects. There was a level of relatability; you were better than most at getting them to open up.

This man–clean cut, button-up, eye swollen shut, split lip–you felt sorry for him. You felt sorry for anyone who wasn’t out, wasn’t free to be themselves for whatever reason. It had taken you a long time to come to terms with your own sexuality, even longer to be comfortable in a relationship. But you knew the cognitive dissonance it took to lead a “straight” life while trying desperately hard not to be gay. He’d given you some bullshit story about being drugged and dragged to the gay club, but there had been no drugs found in his system. He was clearly just trying to come up with an excuse for being there.

“Mr. Berg,” you started again, softening your voice. “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying sex with men. We just need to know what really happened so we can catch the person who did this to you.”

Suddenly, he exploded, standing and throwing his chair against the wall. You nearly fell out of your seat as you backed toward the wall and Resendez surged forward to cuff him.

“I’m not a fucking faggot, you bitch!” he spat. “Maybe you like pussy, but that’s not my problem! You just need a dick in you! I could do it, too, I’m not a fucking fag!”

You kept your eyes fixed on a scratch on the wall, trying not to react. You were used to people saying ignorant things. You were used to perps saying all kinds of disgusting things to you, but this outburst had rattled you more than usual.

“Just go, Y/L/N,” Resendez said, nodding toward the door.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You let the door slam shut behind you, leaning against it and exhaling shakily.

“You okay?”

You jumped a bit, then calmed when you saw it was Casey. She’d been watching the interview.

You nodded, but your hands gave you away, shaking at your sides. Casey frowned and pressed one of your hands between hers, flattening it and attempting to massage the stress away. You were trying hard to stay calm, but Berg’s outburst–the force of it, the volume–had taken you off guard. Normally on the job, you went into situations expecting belligerence or violence, and your body and brain were primed for it ahead of time. But this had come so out of the blue. Your heartbeat was fast and loud in your ears, and you closed your eyes, the lights overhead too bright, too much.

You could feel yourself growing panicked, not because of what Berg had said, but because you knew you were getting overstimulated, and you couldn’t control it. Of course, your squad knew you were autistic. Huang evaluated you every six months to ensure you weren’t burnt out and were able to perform your duties. There were parts of solving a case that being autistic made you very good at, but there were also things it made hard for you. You hated for your squad to see you like this, to see the worst parts of being autistic. You wanted them to trust you, to believe that you were capable of doing your job and doing it well. But nobody else fell apart like this. Just you.

“Sorry,” you whispered to Casey as your breathing grew more rapid.

She wrapped her arm around your shoulder protectively. “It’s okay. Come here, come with me.”

She led you to the bullpen and knocked lightly on Cragen’s open door. Cragen looked up and was about to ask Casey what she needed when he noticed her gesture subtly toward you–hunched, eyes on the ground, fingers tapping the sides of your head as your body rocked back and forth.

Cragen gathered his papers and stood, squeezing Casey’s arm as he passed. “Take as long as you need,” he said quietly, leaving his office.

Casey pulled you into the office and shut the door behind you, turning off the overhead lights and shutting the blinds.

“Okay,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around your rocking body and squeezing you tightly. The longer she held you, the more your heartbeat slowed, the more even your breaths grew, until you were left shaky from the spent adrenaline, limp in her arms.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, lowering yourself into a chair and rubbing your eyes.

Casey sat next to you, taking your hand in hers again. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, honey.”

You disagreed, but you didn’t want to argue the point. Casey would win anyway. She was a lawyer, after all.

“I want to go in with you next time when you question Berg,” she added.

“Casey…” you protested.

“I don’t want him talking to you like that.”

You smiled softly at her and pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Casey. Honey. I’m a detective. People are gonna say shitty things to me.”

“Yeah, well,” she grumbled. “If he threatens you again, I’m slapping him with an assault charge.”

“He’s an assault victim, Case. It’s your job to protect him.”

“Maybe so,” she conceded, leaning forward to caress your cheek. “But my number one job is to protect you.”

You melted into her touch. Usually it was you protecting people. Your whole job was protecting people, and you were good at it. But Casey? Casey looked after you. Casey made you feel safe.

You leaned in to kiss her lips softly, making sure to meet her eyes when you pulled away, so she knew you were feeling better, less overstimulated.

“I’m okay, honey,” you whispered. “I promise.”

The rest of the squad made it a point to be extra normal when you and Casey emerged from Cragen’s office. Someone who didn’t know you might think you and Casey had been in there for less-than-professional reasons, but the squad knew the only reason you’d lock yourself in there was for you to regulate yourself. And they never wanted you to feel embarrassed about it.

You made your way back to the interrogation room where Berg now sat handcuffed. Resendez observed him through the two-way mirror.

“Want another crack, Y/N?” he asked. “I’m getting nothing.”

“Might try good cop, bad cop with Casey,” you told him. “Or, well, I guess it’d be bad cop, worse ADA who’s pissed you threatened her girlfriend.”

Resendez shrugged and grinned at you. “Worth a shot anyway.”

Casey squeezed your hand before following you into the interrogation room.

“Alright, Mr. Berg. Allow me introduce ADA Novak.”

[erosia-rhodes]

Speculation on Mizu’s heritage

Blue Eye Samurai on Netflix is one of the best things I’ve seen all year. As I’ve been rewatching it, I couldn’t help but speculate on Mizu’s heritage, and I wanted to share my theory so we can all laugh at how wrong I was in a few years. (I am notoriously bad at guessing plot twists. I was totally wrong about how Wandavision and Loki season 1 would end.)

Spoilers and speculation behind the jump.

Short version: Mizu’s mother was a white woman and her father was the Shogun. The Shogun’s wife, Lady Itoh, put the bounty on Mizu’s life because she was proof that the Shogun broke his own laws.

Who Would Want to Kill a Baby?

We know that there has been a bounty on Mizu’s head since she was a baby. There are only three reasons I can think of for putting a hit out on a child who’s just been born and couldn’t have personally wronged anyone yet:

1) To deny them an inheritance.

2) To eliminate proof of an affair.

3) To eliminate proof of a crime.

The woman that claims to be Mizu’s mother is Japanese, so Mizu assumes her father must be white. But once Fowler reveals that Mizu’s “mother” was actually her maid, it opens up the possibility that Mizu’s mother was white and her father was Japanese.

We know that someone is willing to a pay a lot of money to kill Mizu, but the maid also ran off with enough money to take care of Mizu for several years, so at least one person in this mess is wealthy. We also know that someone still wants Mizu dead when she's an adult because men come to kill her when her husband rats her out, so she’s still a threat to someone else’s interests at that time.

If the Shogun slept with a white woman and fathered a mix-raced child as a result, that would fulfill all three reasons to put a bounty on a baby. Killing her would remove any chance that a bastard might try to blackmail her way into an inheritance, it would remove proof that the Shogun had an affair, and most importantly, it would destroy evidence that he violated his own laws against Western influence by sleeping with a white woman.

But the True Culprit is…

But I don’t think the Shogun put the bounty on Mizu’s life. I think it was the Shogun’s wife, Lady Itoh, for several reasons:

1) Lady Itoh is willing to kill people who learn that her husband broke his own laws.

When the nobles are trying to escape the fire in the finale, Lady Itoh makes her sons lock the door behind them and sentence the other Lords to death because they witnessed the Shogun’s shame, the revelation that he broke his own laws by dealing with Fowler, a white man. She’s demonstrated that she’s willing to kill people to destroy proof of her husband’s violations, so she’d do the same to a mixed-race baby he fathered. It would also explain why Mizu’s maid never claimed the bounty herself; she would have been targeted for death too because she knew about the Shogun’s crime. She probably took whatever money was in the house when the killers came for Mizu, and went on the run as much to save her own life as Mizu's.

2) The woman’s a sadist.

Lady Itoh does everything she can to make Akemi’s life hell once she marries into the family. She saddles her with bitchy attendants and serves her disgusting food at the banquet, and finishes it off with the cooked remains of the bird Akemi tried to free. Then she sends her two more birds the next day, claiming they’re breakfast and lunch. I have no trouble believing this woman would put a hit on a baby!

3) She’s a hardliner against Western influence

After the fire, Lady Itoh orders her sons to destroy 2000 guns which they could have used in the future against their enemies because she’d so fiercely against Western influence. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the one who came up with the law banning white people and talked her husband into enacting it. That would explain why the Shogun was willing to violate the law, because he didn’t completely believe in it and only enacted it to get his wife off his back.

It Fits a Common Theme of Revenge Stories

Another reason I think Lady Itoh is the ultimate villain is because it fits the common theme that revenge is futile. Revenge usually destroys the person seeking it just as much as anyone they go after. There is a famous quote from Confucius that says, "Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves." The implication is that the second one is for yourself.

If it turns out that Mizu has been going after the only four men in the country who couldn’t be her father, it would demonstrate how misguided revenge quests are. She’s spent her whole life pouring hatred into the wrong mission.

It would also be a painful twist to know that Mizu was in the same room with Lady Itoh in the finale, but she was focused on killing Fowler instead of realizing that her true enemy was fleeing out the back door with everyone else.

How It Will All Sort Out

I predict that Mizu will eventually learn the truth about her parentage and ultimately target Lady Itoh for death, not just for revenge, but so she can permanently remove the bounty on her head and live her life freely as a woman.

Akemi might end up assisting Mizu since Lady Itoh is also her enemy. Akemi will probably spend season two battling Lady Itoh for control of the household, and thus the country. If Akemi can put her husband in place as the Shogun, she could remove the bounty on Mizu's head.

If Taigan ends up working as a castle guard, this might put him in conflict with Mizu and Akemi if they target Lady Itoh since he would be honor bound to protect her.

It will be interesting to see how it all sorts out!

ETA: I misspelled Lady Itoh's name, sorry! (According to the subtitles it's Itoh, not Ito) I think I fixed every instance.

[debilsposts]

Another dumb long-ass hc time because this time, I'm just bored, and I have like 30 followers, which means I can say whatever I want with no real consequences. Okay, so you know the principle of least interest, where whoever cares less in a relationship holds the most power? Yeah. jaytim can be a textbook example of this, except the power balance keeps shifting like a badly played game of chess. And, proven by GK video game, they actually do suck at chess at first.

Tim has mastered the art of restraint. He wants, but never too much. He cares, but never visibly. He moves through most things like it’s a game of chess – never reaching too far at first, never tipping his hand. His favorite piece is, unsurprisingly, the rook, one of the most underestimated pieces, but the most powerful toward the endgame, when the board is open, and he sees a clear path to getting what he wants.

Jason is the opposite. He feels with a reckless, all-consuming intensity. When he cares, it’s devouring. Which is why he keeps himself locked down, why he pushes and snarls and pretends he doesn’t want anything at all. Jason is a knight, wild, unpredictable, moving in patterns that don’t make sense to anyone but him. A piece that jumps over obstacles instead of maneuvering around them.

So, Tim plays his pieces carefully, deliberately. He waits for Jason to move first, waits for him to overextend, because Jason will overextend. That’s just how he is. He goes all in, always.

But Tim doesn’t capture him. Not yet. He tries to keep his own feelings safe, his defenses solid, his emotions locked behind a perfectly constructed wall of pawns. He makes it impossible for Jason to chase them. Makes him doubt. Jason is the one leaping in first, the one wanting more, the one Tim keeps at a distance just because he can.

Tim’s the one who says things like, “This doesn’t have to mean anything, right?” And Jason? Jason is the one who acts like it doesn’t matter, like it doesn’t gut him when Tim resets the board before he can even play.

And he keeps doing so, very often.

But here’s the thing – Jason is a competitive bastard. If he realizes he’s there's no way of winning this, he does the one thing Tim never accounted for.

He flips the board.

No more games. Jason just walks away.

“I'm tired of waiting for more.”

And Tim?

Tim panics.

Because Jason wasn’t supposed to do that. He was supposed to stay. He was supposed to keep jumping back. He wasn't supposed to be able to walk away and take half of Tim with him. Tim thought he had control, but now Jason is gone, and suddenly the game isn’t the same anymore.

So he finds himself searching, chasing, breaking his own rules.

He finds himself playing blind, making desperate moves, leaving his heart exposed just to bring Jason back to the board.

Tim sacrifices calculation for instinct. He abandons caution, trades logic for emotion, and steps into the open unarmed, hoping, praying, that Jason will see it for what it is.

"'s not a trap. Not a trick. Just– come back."

And maybe Jason does. Maybe he hovers at the edge of the board, watching Tim dismantle his own defenses, watching him make foolish, reckless moves that don’t suit a master tactician.

Maybe Jason lets him suffer a little. Makes him sweat. Because if Tim wants him, he should have to prove it. 

But then, chess isn’t a game of brute force, it’s a game of patience. Of control and punishment. And love? Love is neither of those things.

Jason has to learn that not every move is an attack. That loving someone doesn’t mean winning or losing. That being vulnerable doesn’t mean being captured.

Tim has to learn that keeping his distance doesn’t actually make him untouchable. That locking down every piece doesn’t stop the board from shifting beneath him.

And the only way they work, the only way they don’t collapse under the weight of their own defenses, is when they stop trying to win. When they stop holding love hostage like a piece they’re afraid to sacrifice.

Because in the end, the principle of least interest doesn’t matter. Because in the end, there’s no checkmate, no final move, no last play that leaves one of them victorious.

Because in the end, Jason never really left the board.

And Tim was always playing for keeps.

[luveline]

pleaseee anything angsty with bombshell!reader and spencer!! love you

love you!

When Jason Gideon dies, it’s alone with his murderer. Isolated from friends and family, years after you last heard from him. Spencer hasn’t spoken to him since he left, and yet the ruin on his face when it’s confirmed to be Gideon churns your stomach. 

He rushes out of the room. 

You look at Gideon, dead, and regret that you never got along. You barely knew him. So when Derek leaves to follow Spencer out, you don’t go with them, thinking Derek has better common ground. 

“You okay?” you ask Hotch quietly. 

He nods, solemn. “Do you want to go check on Reid?” he asks, equally hushed. 

“I think Morgan has it for now.” You turn away from Gideon. You don’t want to see him dead, it’s too scary when it’s someone you know. It reminds you that it could’ve been you, or Spencer. 

You don’t find time to speak to your poor bookworm until later that night when you’ve been forced to retire in dinky motel rooms. You and Spencer used to share because you were the only person normal enough not to complain when he infodumps, and because you were fond of him. Then because you were best friends, and now because you’re in love. How lucky you’ve been. 

He’s always had it rough, though. 

You’d asked him multiple times throughout the day if he was okay, and every now and then he’d nodded or sniffled, but now he’s alone with you his facade fades completely, and you want to have a real talk. 

His shoulders rock. You reach out for him. He breaks for the bathroom. 

“Spencer?” you ask, startled. 

The door shuts hard between you, frame shaking.

“Spencer, are you okay?” 

You cross the brown carpeting to grab the handle. You pause there, heart dropping as the weak sound of muffled sobbing reaches your ears. “Spencer,” you say, soft, and without any teasing. You’re capable of seriousness sometimes. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” 

“Can I be alone?” he asks.

He sounds strained. 

“I’d rather you weren’t. I don’t know what you’ll do.” 

“What?” he asks. 

“People do strange things when they’re upset. I just want to be with you, that’s all.” 

“I’m fine,” he says shortly. 

You’d be offended, but like you said. People do strange things when they’re upset, and this is worse than just being upset. This is grief. Intangible, cruel. Spencer has a history of doing things that aren’t good for him when he’s hurting. You’ve no interest in leaving him alone. 

“Spencer… I love you. I want to be near you.”

Your straight-forwardness pays off. 

“Okay,” he says. “It’s not locked.” 

That’s reassuring. You open the door, find him standing at the sink with his cheeks wet with thick tears. He crumples when he sees you, hiding his face in his hands. 

You’re not sure what to do. Loving someone, you tend to love all of them, and you’ve yet to find parts of Spencer you couldn’t adore, but he just lost somebody important to him and you have no idea how to handle it. You decide to try, whether jumping into it will do any good or not. You walk right into his chest and hug him. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, “I love you. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” He takes a shaky, odd breath, like he might laugh. He tries to as he holds your shoulders. “God, it’s okay, don’t be sorry.” 

“I am. It’s not fair. I never want you to lose anyone.” 

He presses his lips into a hard line and nods, prompting tears down his cheeks one after the other. “It’s okay.” 

It’s not okay. Spencer cries and you watch him, his hands weak on your shoulders. His hair is greasy at the roots from all the heat of being upset, his face pink, his eyes swollen and sore. His lashes are sticking together in dark triangles, while his sclera turns bloodshot. It’s clear that today has been extremely hard on him, and you should’ve done more. “I should’ve come after you, I’m sorry. I thought Morgan would have a better chance at making you feel better.” You wipe his cheeks, and tuck lank hair behind his ears. “I need you to know I’m here for you.” 

He’s putting on a brave face, slowly but surely. “I know that.” 

“Listen, do you want to shower?” you ask. 

“I want to sit down forever.” 

“We’ll shower first. I’ll come in with you, alright? We can wash your hair, the warm water will be good for your eyes.” You frown sympathetically. “You’ve cried all day.” 

“I can’t believe he’s gone. I wish I’d tried harder to see him. To talk to him again.” 

“You can… I know it’s not the same, but you can tell me. Anything you wanted to say to him, I’ll listen. You can tell me everything.” 

He nods again. More brave face, more unnerving, fake smile. 

You run your hands down his hair, and use your hands to tilt his head forward gently. “You can be alone if you really want to, but I just can’t have that closed door. You understand?” 

“No, I want to shower with you.” He sniffs. “Sorry if I scared you.” 

“It’s not scary.” You curl your arm behind his neck to pull him in for a careful hug. You hold him without moving, relieved when he holds you back, though his hands are limp where they’d usually be rubbing at your shoulders. “It wasn’t scary, I mean. I didn’t mean to suggest you’d do something, but I think the last thing you should be right now is alone. Thanks for letting me stay.” 

He breathes in your neck. “This is nice.” 

You bend back to encourage him further into your arms. “You’re doing so well,” you murmur, rubbing his back in a slow stroke, “you can get through this. We’ll do right by him, I promise. You’re not alone.” 

“I used to feel it. He was the first person who… really looked out for me, before he left.” Spencer sniffles, glassy eyes softening where he looks down at you. “Nobody’s ever stayed with me. No one.” 

“Well, I’m not going anywhere.” 

He sniffles again. “I know… Will you still shower with me?” 

“Mm-hm. Wash your hair for you, if you want me to.” 

“Please.” 

“Costs a kiss,” you say softly. 

“You want one from me right now?” he asks. He’s joking, because he knows you always want one. 

Your spirits finally begin to recuperate. “Plant one on me, handsome… only if you want to.” 

He turns away from you to wipe his face, both of you laughing, him wetly, you in relief. Both with a little bit of guilt. Maybe because life goes on without the people who pass, and that will always feel wrong. 

He turns back to you. Sadness darkens his eyes, but he closes them and leans down tentatively to kiss you. 

You take his soft one, borrow a firmer one, and wrap him up in another hug. Love you, love you, love you, you think. You’re going to make sure that he’s okay. 

[crowsofdarkness]

Arranged: Chapter Sixteen

*gif not mine. credit to owner*

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: language, 18+ smut(ch 12 & ch 17), angst, fluff, mentions of death and violence. I will update the warnings with each chapter.

Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.

Authors Note: If anyone who is interested wants to be tagged, let me know!

Tags: @sakuracyberhex

My eyes fluttered open, the golden rays of the upcoming sunrise painted the room and I slowly sat up to take in my surroundings. I was back in my room, suitcases and clothes still scattered throughout, but what made my heart drop was that I was alone, Bucky nowhere in sight. 

“Bucky?” I called out. 

His voice didn’t call back. 

I gave a quick glance to my phone and noticed that I had been out for a few hours. The constant revelation of truths tonight had done a number on my mental capacity and whether I wanted to admit it or not, I needed to sleep it off. Even if I felt slightly better about the situation, I still wasn’t happy about how Bucky had to deal with the whole Jason situation. But in the end, I wasn’t going to change the outcome of what happened. 

With a soft sigh, I decided that I should let him know that I was awake and feeling better, mostly. I made my way towards the one place in the house I knew that Bucky would be. 

His office. 

As I made the turn down the long hallway, I noticed Sam was leaning against the wall with his phone pressed to his ear. He had been so engrossed in his phone call that he hadn’t realized I had walked up behind him.

“They’re in there with him right now, it’s not pretty but we have to get somewhere.” 

My brows knitted together as I halted in front of Sam who quickly ended his call when his eyes landed on me. 

“Is Bucky busy?” I nodded towards the closed office door behind him. 

“Yeah, I’ll let him know you stopped by,” Sam said. 

I snorted. “What are you, his receptionist?” 

“He’s in a meeting.” 

“I heard. I guess it doesn't look pretty in there?” I questioned. 

I was unsure what kind of meeting Bucky would have at the early hours of the morning and I made that clear to Sam. 

He sighed. “Y/N, you can’t go in there.” 

“Why not?” I had my arms crossed over my chest. 

A bellow of screams came from behind the door and I tried to move past Sam but he blocked my path. 

“I can’t let you in, Y/N.” 

More screams sounded and I looked at Sam baffled. “What is Bucky doing in there?” 

Sam shook his head with hesitation. “It’s not Bucky that’s screaming.”

“Sam, I swear to God, if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on. I'm so tired of being left out in the dark with everything. Please.” 

He ran a hand over his face and let out a large breath. “There’s a lead in your parents' case.” 

My heart jumped at not only hearing news of a lead in my parents’ case but also because of the way that Bucky and Steve were finding out more information. Sam didn’t have to tell me exactly how they were doing it, the screams that echoed told me. 

Not bothering to hear Sam’s protests, I pushed past him and barreled into the office. The door had slammed against the wall. My eyes doubled in size with the sight in front of me. 

Bucky and Steve had their backs to me but that didn’t stop me from seeing the blood on their knuckles and the array of knives on the desk. However, what made my stomach drop was seeing the man tied to a chair, blood pooling from a variety of cuts on his face, arms, and thighs. There was a puddle of blood forming at the man's feet. 

“What the fuck is going on?” I gasped. 

The two men turned on their heels when they heard my voice and Bucky cursed as he wiped the blood on a towel. 

“What the hell, Y/N! Didn’t you see the closed door?” He seethed while blocking my view.

I ignored him, only pointing to the man in the chair. “What the hell are you doing?” 

Bucky was now gripping my elbow to force me out but I ripped it from his grasp. 

“NO! I’m done being the girl stuck in her room with the wool over her eyes as to what’s going on.” I fought against him. 

“Y/N, leave. Now.” Bucky’s voice was calm but firm. 

I shook my head and pushed past him, now standing close to the tied man. Beneath the blood and bruises that were forming, I could tell that he was younger than me, just a kid. 

My blood began to boil as I looked back at Bucky. “He’s just a kid, guys!” 

“Y/N, you need to listen to Bucky and leave. You shouldn’t be here for this.” Steve was the next to try to get me to leave but I pushed his hand off of me. 

“Screw you, guys! He knows something about my parents' case, right?” I asked. 

It was Steve who gave me the answer I was looking for. “Yes but he’s not giving it up willingly.” 

A gargled cough sounds behind me. “Oh shit. It was your parents that got wacked?”

Anger flashed over my eyes as I went to smack him, only to be held back by Steve. 

“Let me go!” I did my best to break free from his grasp but failed. 

Damn super soldier serum.

“I deserve to be here if it involves my parents!” I pleaded while looking between Steve and Bucky. 

With a quick lick of his lips, Bucky eventually nodded. “You only ask questions, understand?” 

I didn’t bother wasting my breath on him and turned my attention back to the man in the chair. “Who killed my parents?” 

The man chuckled but remained silent which seemed to anger Bucky, who grabbed a knife off of his desk. It twirled between his vibranium fingers. 

“She asked you a question,” Bucky said. 

Seeing the way Bucky had flipped the knife so effortlessly in his hand made my core twitch with a new, confusing desire. 

I stared at it with a tilted head. 

Oh…oh.

That’s why I felt this burning below. I had found myself becoming turned on by seeing Bucky play with the knife. I pushed the feeling to the back of mind, knowing now wasn’t the time to explore this new kink. 

“This is your bride?” The man said before looking at me. “Damn baby, why are you wasting your time with this freak? I’ll show you what a real man is like.” 

Bucky’s boot landed into the man’s chest, knocking him to the ground, and pressed the knife deep into his neck. 

“You’re lucky I need you alive for answers otherwise I’d kill you right now for even looking at her,” Bucky spat, drawing blood from a new wound on the neck. 

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from protesting Bucky’s actions. 

Once the chair was placed up properly, I knelt down in front of the man again. 

“What’s your name?” I asked. 

“Let me guess, you’re the good cop?” 

I shrugged. “Someone has to be.” 

He looked at the two men that towered behind me and sighed. “Daryl.” 

I gave him a small smile. “Okay, Daryl. I’m only going to ask you one more time. Who killed my parents?” 

“Screw you.” 

Skin on skin echoed throughout the room only it came from my hand as I slapped Darly, hard. 

He spat blood on the ground, a chuckle leaving his lips. “Damn, that’s all you got?” 

This time, I punched the same cheek I had previously slapped. 

“Y/N!” 

I ignored Bucky and kept my attention on Daryl. “Who killed my parents?” 

My patience had begun to grow thin, I needed answers now and I didn’t care what I had to do in order to get them. 

“I’m not fucking around. Who killed them?!” 

He looked up at me with a sinister smirk under all of the blood. “Why don’t you ask your husband? I’m sure he’s got a list of people that want revenge.” 

My hand reeled back, ready to land another blow, but vibranium fingers wrapped around my wrist and yanked me away from Daryl. I burned a gaze full of hatred towards Bucky as he pinned me against the wall. 

“I said talking only,” he reminded me through gritted teeth. 

“Look at him, Bucky! Clearly you two gave up talking to him a long time ago.” 

Bucky nodded. “For you! This is all for you, Y/N. I can’t have you come in here still upset with me for what happened to Jason and risk making this guy clam up.” 

A dry laugh fell from my lips. “You think that’s why I’m so heated? I don’t care anymore. You killed someone. I’m not happy with it but I can’t change that for you. It’s who you are and I have to live with it.” 

There was a sadness that glossed over Bucky’s eyes and he sighed deeply. “I don't want you to stoop to my level. You’re too good for this, doll.” 

“It’s my parents, Bucky,” I shrugged. “I have too.” 

A soft finger raised my chin up, closer to Bucky’s lips, and I molded into him as he placed a gentle kiss on mine. All of the anger I had felt slipped through my fingertips, only for a moment, as I allowed him to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. 

“How sweet. You want to know what your parents said before a bullet was put into their brains?” 

Bucky’s head snapped towards Daryl. “Keep your fucking mouth shut.” 

I pushed past Bucky and reached for a knife on the desk. “What did you say?” 

Daryl chuckled darkly. “They begged for your life to be spared. They knew that we would come after you next, unless they gave us what we were looking for.” 

His screams filled our ears as I dug the knife deep into an open wound in his stomach, twisting and turning it. 

“What did you want?” I asked. 

No answer so I dug the knife deeper, more blood pooling over my hand. Daryl’s head hung low, another dark chuckle erupted from his throat. My fingers snaked through his hair and yanked his head back. 

“What were you looking for?!” I yelled. 

The knife dug even deeper which caused Daryl to hiss in pain. 

“That’s enough! Steve, get her out of here,” Bucky’s loud voice demanded. 

The knife clattered to the hard floor below as arms wrapped around me from behind, lifting me away from Daryl. I kicked and writhed against Steve’s grasp, a slew of curses falling from my lips and being taken away. 

“He knows! He knows who killed them!” 

Steve continued to carry me until we were in the main entry of the house and once my feet touched the ground, I did my best to run past him but he was two seconds too fast. I ran right into his hard chest. 

“Steve, please,” I begged, tears filling my eyes. 

He gave me a sad look. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t let you in there.” 

My shoulders slumped, defeated. “But he knows.” 

Steve cupped my face with both of his hands, forcing me to look into his eyes. 

“Bucky and I will find that out but you need to go take a shower. Get cleaned up and take a breath. You only woke up a while ago from passing out. We don’t need that to happen again.” 

Truthfully, I knew Steve was right. My body had been so stressed out with everything the last couple weeks that I hadn’t had time to simply sit and decompress; take a breath. 

“Will you fill me in on what you find out?” I asked. 

He nodded. “Of course.” 

With one final sigh, I slipped through his gentle hands and climbed the stairs towards my bedroom.

[cherryjuicesblu]

THIS KIND OF LOVE

hiiii! this is my first writing.

I had this idea in the middle of the night and thought, “why not write and post it? maybe someone will like it...”

so here it is! I hope you enjoy it.

leave a comment so I know if you liked it enough for me to keep writing more.

and if you have any ideas, I’m open to them too!

oh, and just so you know: english is not my first language :)

Nothing that afternoon indicated the day would end that way.

Y/N was exhausted. Work had been a mess from the moment she walked in — three back-to-back meetings, an impatient boss, and a mistake that wasn’t even hers ending up on her shoulders. Her phone kept buzzing nonstop until she finally silenced everything. She didn’t even have time for a proper lunch: just ate two crackers in the car on her way to the hotel where Harry was waiting for a few days of rest.

But she didn’t want to show anything. She wanted to be strong. She wanted to be the girlfriend who went to the gym with him.

Harry noticed her exhaustion the second she walked into the room. Her eyes were dull, shoulders low. But when he asked if she wanted to work out, she forced a smile.

— It’ll do me good, love. I want to sweat all of this out.

And he believed her. Because she knew how to lie with her eyes when she wanted to seem strong.

In the hotel gym, the atmosphere was nearly silent. An older man was on the treadmill in the back, and another guy — too tanned, too muscular, wearing a tight tank top — was using the corner with the weights. Harry, focused on his functional workout and listening to his playlist, kept an eye on her. Always.

Y/N tried to focus on her movements, but her body wasn’t responding like before. The stressful day was taking its quiet toll — and she tried to hide it. Between sets, she stopped near the mirror, adjusting her sports bra with a sigh. That’s when she felt the presence beside her. A man — overly muscular, overly tanned, with the kind of confidence that comes off the wrong way — appeared with a crooked smile.

— Hey, tough workout, huh? I could give you a few tips if you want... I noticed you’re using the wrong weight.

She glanced at him, trying to stay polite.

— I’m good, thanks. I’m with my boyfriend.

The guy gave a half-smile, like he didn’t take her seriously.

— You sure? A lot of people don’t even realize they’re training wrong. And no offense… but you look more like a model than an athlete.

She was visibly uncomfortable. She didn’t even have to answer. Harry was already walking over, dropping his dumbbells with a soft thud, eyes locked on the two of them.

— Is there a problem here?

— Just chatting, man. Relax. It’s a public gym.

— Public, yeah. But if she said she’s good, then you should respect that.

— And next time you wanna “give tips,” maybe learn how to recognize when someone’s not interested.

— Are you always like this? Jumping in like you own her?

— I don’t own anyone. But I’m her boyfriend. And I don’t like it when someone makes her feel uncomfortable.

— You were pushing. And she clearly said no.

The guy laughed nervously.

— Alright, champ. No need to be so sensitive. She’s hot — can’t help turning heads, right?

Harry let out a dry laugh, but his eyes were sharp.

— Yeah, she’s insanely gorgeous. But the only attention that matters to her… she already has. Mine.

A heavy silence settled between them. The guy shrugged, mumbled something, and walked off.

Harry only turned to her once the man was out of sight. His expression softened instantly.

— Are you okay, love? Did he touch you?

— No, he didn’t go that far. Just irritated me. — She tried to play it off, but the tension was still in her shoulders.

Harry gently wrapped his arm around her waist.

— If at any moment you want to leave, just say the word. Or if you want to keep training, I’ll stay right by your side. Okay?

She nodded, resting her face on his shoulder.

— Thank you for that. Really.

He kissed the top of her head softly, keeping his hand resting on her back.

— I’ll always protect you, baby. Even when you think you can handle it on your own.

She gave him a weak smile and went back to training. So did he. But now, even more watchful.

As she did squats, he watched her through the mirror. As she pulled on cables, he silently counted her reps. He knew just by looking that something was off. The way her fingers trembled, the way she paused with a distant look, how she leaned on the machine like she was trying to hide her weakness.

Then, the moment she dropped the weights and held her stomach, staggering to the nearest wall, he dropped everything.

— Y/N! — He rushed over, heart pounding. — Love… look at me, sweetheart. What are you feeling?

She was panting, sweating, hands on her face.

— I... I feel nauseous... — she whispered.

He wrapped his arms around her in a firm, protective gesture.

— Let’s get you over there. Come with me. I got you. — He led her gently to a modern trash bin near the exit.

She knelt down. Her stomach revolted and she threw up. Harry stayed the entire time — kneeling behind her, carefully holding her hair, gently stroking the curve of her spine in soothing, steady movements.

— It’s gonna pass soon, baby... breathe, breathe, my love. I’m right here. — His voice was low, but full of pain at seeing her like that.

When she finished, he grabbed a towel and gently wiped her face. Then moved her hair away and cupped her cheek.

— Love… why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling okay? Huh? — he said softly but firmly.

— I just wanted... to do something nice with you. Not ruin the day.

He looked at her like his heart had been squeezed tight.

— You never ruin anything, sweetheart. Never.

— It just breaks me knowing you chose to suffer alone instead of letting me help.

He ran his fingers over her neck, then her shoulders, tenderly.

— Let me take care of you now, okay? Let’s go upstairs. Take a hot shower, eat something light, lie down together. Just us.

— Today you deserve comfort. And tomorrow too. And whenever you need it.

She rested her head on his chest, and he held her close, swaying gently like he was cradling the whole world.

They went up together. In the room, he prepared a warm bath for her, and while she was in the shower, he made toast with honey and chamomile tea. He placed everything on the corner table with a little note scribbled in his big handwriting:

“For my strongest girl in the world. Who now gets to be as weak as she wants.

With love, your Harry.”

When she came out of the shower, he was already lying in bed with his shirt laid out next to her pillow, waiting for her.

She laid down beside him, and Harry wrapped his arms around her like he was still trying to shield her from everything the day had thrown at her.

— Thank you for being this kind of love — she whispered.

He smiled, kissing her forehead, then her nose, then her lips — with such tenderness it felt like a promise.

— You’re my favorite kind of love, my beautiful princess.

And that night, between sighs and intertwined fingers, he stayed awake until he was sure her breathing was calm, steady, and safe.

Just like his heart only felt when she was at peace.

[dazaih]

wingman - luke skywalker x reader

chapter one -> new beginnings chapter two

your university roommate han solo finds a rival (and love interest) in student council president leia skywalker, but both of them are too stubborn to admit that they have feelings for each other. luckily, you and her twin brother, luke, devise a plan to get the two of them to spend more time together. challenges arise, however, when you start to develop a crush on him.

chapter warnings: mentions of drugs and alcohol

a/n: hiiiii here’s my university!au mini series with roommate han solo and love interest luke skywalker! this chapter isnt super juicy but i wanted to set up a foundation before getting crazy with the plot. i’m gonna go ahead and publish the next part where luke arrives so you guys don’t have to wait to meet him hehe hope u enjoy!

You and Han Solo had a lot in common.

For starters, you both transferred into your university at the beginning of your sophomore year. In your case, you’d been getting through your gen-ed requirements at community college for a year to save money on tuition. You had worked hard, and now you had been accepted to transfer into your dream school. You showed up to the mandatory transfer student orientation feeling more hopeful than ever, excited to meet new people and make life long friends. Your only anxiety was that it was a pretty preppy school, and the student body was known to be quite affluent. You had thrifted a pretty cute outfit, though, so you prayed that your lack of frivolous spending wouldn’t be obvious to your new peers. You tried to pay attention to the speaker who was delivering the opening remarks, but your ambitions surrounding the new adventure you were embarking on were too loud, and you found yourself imagining what the next three years would entail.

Completely engrossed in your thoughts, you barely registered the sound of the auditorium door creaking open to grant entrance to a latecomer. For this reason, you nearly fell out of your chair when a gruff voice pulled you from your daydreaming:

“Mind if I sit?”

Startled, you looked up to see a slightly disheveled man staring down at you, his brown hair tousled and arms folded over his chest. He sported a pair of worn-out jeans, a flannel, and a heavy duty Carhartt coat that looked like it had seen better days. His combat boots had scratches all over the toe, and he smelled faintly of cigarettes and pot. Compared to everyone else in the room, he looked incredibly out of place, his casual attire and rugged disposition setting him apart. Despite being late, he still exuded confidence—or was it arrogance, a voice in the back of your head chimed in—and hold on, did this guy have his ear pierced?

“Well?” he prompted, looking annoyed, “Can you move your shit?”

You jumped a bit, having forgotten that he’d asked if he could sit next to you. Nodding, you moved your bag, clearing the chair out for him. Only after he sat down did his impoliteness begin to register. Should you say something to him about his attitude? You had been staring, but not long enough for him to get hateful with you.

After stewing in silent anger for a few minutes, you whispered, “Y’know, I only put my stuff in that chair because I didn’t think anyone would show up fifteen minutes late to orientation.”

Slowly, the man turned his head. When his eyes met yours, you realized that you might have made a mistake. Within your first few minutes of being on campus, you had probably just confronted the only person at this entire university who looked like he’d have no problem smacking you across the face for looking at him the wrong way.

“You better pay attention instead of talking to me, sweetheart. I heard that they’re gonna be going over how to mind your own business soon, and you could use a lesson or two in that.”

“Well, you were a little rude to me when you came in, or else I wouldn’t have said anything about it,” you replied quietly.

He just rolled his eyes, and you both turned your attention back towards the front of the room. The speaker went on and on about how this was such a prestigious school, telling you all that you were very lucky to be getting an education there. The comment struck you as a little strange, but you didn’t think much of it until the man beside of you spoke again.

“Luck’s hardly got anything to do with it,” he scoffed, looking very unimpressed.

His voice was quiet enough that you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or just mumbling under his breath. You decided to reply anyway.

“That was kind of a weird thing to say,” you agreed, hoping this would patch up whatever ill will you’d ignited in the stranger. In your defense, he had been rude to you first, but you’d only been on campus for under an hour and you weren’t trying to make enemies on your first day.

He nodded, at least acknowledging you, and listened to the rest of the orientation with an incredibly sour look on his face. As soon as the assembly concluded, he shot straight out of his chair, zipping up his coat and pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

“Waste of time,” he muttered, walking towards the door. When you didn’t follow him, he turned and looked at you like you were stupid. Confused, but getting the idea, you scurried after him, offering a small smile to him when he held the door for you. The two of you stood outside, and you watched as he leaned up against the brick building and pulled a cigarette from the box. This guy was cool, you thought; definitely an asshole, but cool. Not at all the type of person you were expecting to meet at this school, that was for sure.

“What’s your name?” he asked you, flicking his Zippo lighter open with a small clink.

You told him your name and that you were an incoming sophomore, explaining that you had gone to community college first to save some money. That made him look at you, and he seemed to regard you with something other than contempt for the first time since you’d met him.

“Huh,” he muttered softly to himself, “You got a job?”

“I did before transferring here. I worked all year. I’m here on a scholarship, so I only have to pay for room and board, but that’s still expensive, y’know?”

“Not here on daddy’s money, then,” he mused, exhaling smoke, “You want a cigarette?”

“No thanks,” you declined politely, “What about you, though?”

“Suit yourself,” he replied, taking another drag, “Han. I’m a junior. Transferred from community college like you, but I also had to raise my GPA a little bit before they’d look twice at my application. Snotty bastards.”

“You seem to hate rich people a whole lot for someone who’s gonna be sitting in class full of them in a few days,” you teased.

“Well I’m not an idiot, kid. If you wanna make money, you’re gonna have to put up with people who already have it. I can deal with a bunch of wealthy brats if it means getting an education good enough to land me a six figure job as soon as I graduate.”

“We’ll see. If transfer orientation pissed you off, I can only imagine how exciting trying to make friends with all of these wealthy brats will be for you.”

“What, you prayin’ on my downfall or something?” he snapped, though his voice lacked malice, “I’m not making friends with any of them, anyway.”

“Well, you’re trying to make friends with me, aren’t you?” you challenged, crossing your arms. He rolled his eyes.

“You’re not rich. You had to work to afford going here. And who said I wanna be friends with you?”

“You didn’t know that before inviting me out here to smoke with you.”

“First of all, you’re not smoking. You’re just standing there like a dumbass while I smoke. Secondly, I didn’t need to know that to see that you ain’t got a trust fund, kid, ‘cause I almost bought the jacket you’re wearing at the thrift store down the road last week.”

Your surprise must have shown on your face, because he cut you off before you could even begin speaking, “And I know it’s the same one, ‘cause there’s a tiny stain on the sleeve. I only sat next to you because I was gonna point it out to you and then offer you ten bucks for it.”

You just laughed, shaking your head at him.

“I bought it for twelve, so the answer is no,” you replied, picking at the stain on the sleeve that he’d pointed out.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes for the third time that night, “I’ll find one without a stain.”

“You can barely see it!” you exclaimed, and then, before you could stop yourself, added, “But if you want, we can always go thrifting tomorrow to see if we can find one.”

You had said it before considering the possibility that Han would reject you in the most offensive way possible, which, based on what you knew so far, didn’t seem wildly out of character for him. He was silent for a moment, looking at you as if he had caught you trying to do something sneaky. He seemed like he was about to make fun of you, but to your surprise, he didn’t say anything mean.

“Sure,” was his simple reply.

And the rest was history.

From that moment on, Han had become your closest friend on campus. He was abrasive and rude, but he was real, and he didn’t care that you couldn’t afford to go to Cancun over spring break. He had introduced you to his friend Chewie, a silent stoner type with long, brown hair and a well trimmed goatee. The three of you had formed a little group, and while you didn’t fit in super well with most of your peers, you’d still been having a great time. Even Han, for all of his distaste towards them, had never had any real altercations, and generally seemed pretty happy.

Before you knew it, your second year of college had come to an end, and you at least had two pretty good friends and a solid GPA to show for it, despite the academic rigor of your classes. You celebrated the end of the year at a dive bar, excited for what was to come.

It was only a week into your third year and Han’s fourth when trouble began. You had moved into a shitty apartment with Han and Chewie, the rent not so bad if split three ways, and you had managed to decorate it in a way that made it feel sort of charming. You had just finished hanging a fall wreath when the door flew open, the force behind it causing your new addition to fall. Irritated, you turned to scold Han, but one glance at his face and you knew that you’d have to yell at him for the wreath later, because he looked pissed.

“I can’t take this. I can’t do an entire semester with her. I hate her,” he seethed, throwing his bag on the ground.

Han was an engineering major, which allowed him to be relatively independent and not interact with his classmates too much. Last semester, however, he’d declared a minor in linguistics, realizing that he had quite an affinity for languages. He was already going to have to stay for a fifth year since he had transferred so late and still needed a few more classes for his major, so he’d decided to pursue another interest to make the most of it. The only problem was that one of his linguistics classes was also a popular elective for politics majors, and apparently, Han was starting to develop real issues with one of them.

“Politics major?” you asked, grabbing a beer out of the fridge and offering it to him.

His expression softened for a second and he muttered a silent thanks before launching into his rant again.

“Not just a politics major,” he began, a look of pure contempt in his eyes, “You know the Skywalker twins?”

You nodded. Of course you’d heard of the Skywalker twins. They were the epitome of everything you’d expect a prestigious private university to be—rich, multi talented, and incredibly popular. The girl, Leia, was the student council president, and the boy, Luke, was a star soccer player who had scored the winning point against the school’s number one rival last season and landed them a national championship title. Their reputation transcended the school, though, as their mother was a widely respected senator whose views made her incredibly popular nationwide. Their father was the youngest Air Force pilot in history to receive some kind of honor. He climbed the ranks of the military quickly, but retired from his position and became an outspoken critic of the military several years ago. He’d published a memoir, and then starred in the film remake of said memoir, and his acting was so surprisingly skillful that he now had a career in it. It was as if the Skywalkers succeeded in everything they tried, no matter how unexpected or different the routes they chose were.

You didn’t have any strong feelings about the Skywalkers, and aside from seeing them trend on Twitter every now and then, you hardly thought about them. Han, on the other hand, hated them, and every time he saw one of the twins in passing he’d make some remark about how rich people always wanted to stick their noses where they didn’t belong, ranting about how he thought their mother’s platform was just a campaign strategy and nothing more.

“It’s her. It’s the Skywalker girl. Leia,” he hissed out her name like it was poison, taking a swig of the beer you’d given him to wash it away.

“Ah. Your worst nightmare,” you replied, trying to be sympathetic.

“I know! I don’t think I can do this. She’s got it out for me. Told me to stop smoking cigarettes before class because the smell gives her a headache. Can you believe it?”

Han did need to stop smoking so much, but now probably wasn’t the time to say that.

“And I assume you handled that comment with grace?” you teased.

“Told her she should stop coming to class altogether because her voice gives me a headache. Think her parents are gonna get me kicked out if this keeps going on,” he mumbled.

You sighed, clasping his shoulder and shaking your head.

“Just let it go, Han. You don’t need to start a rivalry with the most distinguished family in the state.”

“You’re right. I’m gonna let it go,” he promised, and you let out a sigh of relief.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Han did not, in fact, let it go. Every Tuesday and Thursday evening, he stormed into the apartment, complaining about something Leia had said to him or something she’d done that just grated on his nerves. He talked about her so much that you and Chewie made a drinking game out of it one day.

This particular Thursday was different. Instead of slamming the door wide open and swearing, he entered the apartment quietly, a slouch in his posture that screamed defeat. You and Chewie had been studying in your living room, appreciating the quiet atmosphere that was sure to be disturbed when Han came home from going to war with Leia again. Only, this time, Han didn’t say a word.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you asked, sitting up a little straighter to take a good look at him.

He sighed, long and dramatic, and slowly took off his shoes.

“Professor got tired of her royal pain in the ass and I arguing,” he confessed, a pained expression overtaking his features.

“What happened? Did you get in trouble?”

“Worse,” he grimaced, looking at you sadly, “We got assigned to work together on the upcoming project.”

You winced, because although you were amused by his dramatic behavior, you really did feel bad for him. This semester had been stretching his patience thin, and this was sure to be the final straw.

“I’m sorry, man,” you told him, Chewie nodding sympathetically, “When’s it due? Does it have to be good?”

“It’s due in three weeks, but it’s worth a big portion of our grade, so she wants to work on it tomorrow. Can you believe that? Friday night, and I’ll be cooped up with the Princess doing research on linguistics. I’d rather drop out. We weren’t even supposed to do this as partners until today. Why would he just drop that on us out of nowhere?”

Probably because you and Leia are at each other’s throats so much that he’s losing his mind and this is his last attempt to force you guys to get along, you thought, but you said nothing.

“Maybe you guys could do it here,” you offered, “I’ll be around for moral support, and we can order a pizza and have some beer so it feels less like a horrible study session and more like the weekend. And if things escalate, I’ll help diffuse the situation.”

A look of relief passed over his face, and he exhaled slowly, nodding.

“That ain’t such a bad idea,” he said, “And if she’s gonna be uptight about it, I’ll tell her we can work on it Sunday night instead, ‘cause I’m not gonna be miserable on a Friday. No way.”

“Perfect,” you told him, smiling, “Chewie and I will make sure the apartment is clean.”

He offered you a small smile—a rarity from Han Solo, and you thought that maybe, things would be okay after all.

[ticktockheartstop]

I just find it sooo interesting how Charles chooses to kiss Crystal after the most emotional day in Port Townsend so far. Let’s review:

1. Charles is clearly jealous of Monty and Edwin at the beginning of the episode: “You? Him? Spending a lot of time?” (Whether this is platonic or romantic jealousy, I’ll leave that up to you… though I definitely have thoughts.)

2. Edwin is really trying, for maybe the first time ever, to comfort Charles and get him to open up (because the Devlin case in the previous episode made him realize that Charles has major walls up). Edwin paying, even slightly, is definitely a new, potentially kinda scary thing for Charles.

3. Crystal is really concerned about Charles and not afraid to hide it, and it’s clearly irritating him. So much so that he nearly snaps at her — which he never does to her — and he stops himself, only to say, “As long as I’ve got my best mate and a case to solve, I’m good.” *pause* “I appreciate you. But leave it, yeah?” I just think it’s really significant that Charles didn’t say “as long as I’ve got you guys” or “my mates” or “you and my best mate.” Crystal was a hit of an afterthought, I think.

4. Charles tells Edwin off for not telling him about the Cat King, so much so that Edwin feels the need to say: “I don’t understand why you’re so angry.” Charles is clearly not in the best mood, not thrilled about the case they’re facing, and not thrilled about his “best mate” hiding things from him.

5. Charles nearly watches Crystal jump to her death, and it wasn’t even him who saved her. It was Niko. He looks the most devastated of all of them, and then gives her that big speech of how important it is for her to know that jumping isn’t worth it, because it’s not actually her mom, no matter what it feels like. And she basically tells him he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, because she knows her mom wants to see her.

6. Charles is so jealous, watching Monty flirt with Edwin as he’s stuck digging through a dumpster.

7. Let’s just be clear on one thing: Crystal was the first to “attack” the Night Nurse, even if she tried to do it psychically instead of physically, and no one bats an eye. But then, when Charles gets violent with her after she threatens to take Edwin back to hell and makes him relive all his trauma, all while basically teasing him, everyone FLIPS OUT about him attacking her. It’s honestly kind of unfair, and I’d lose it too if my friends looked at me like that.

8. Charles really loses it for the first time (maybe ever in front of Edwin). He feels like he can’t help Crystal with her problems, and he can’t get Edwin to be honest about what’s going on in his head, so he definitely can’t help him, and it’s heartbreaking. But the real kicker is that the only one who steps up to try to comfort him in that moment is Edwin, because the others are still stunned by his outburst. But Charles flinches away from his touch, because he can’t fathom how anyone could love him or want to be near him in that moment.

8. If that wasn’t enough, as they leave the lighthouse, Crystal is staring at him with major concern. For obvious reasons. But I relate to Charles in the way that that look would drive me CRAZY, and I think it’s so important that later, when offering an understanding ear, Edwin doesn’t let Charles see the scope of his concern for him. That’s why I think Charles responds more politely to his offer to talk to him if he ever needs it.

9. Slightly out of chronological order here, but before going into their respective rooms, Niko says, “I think I’m going to go do something where I don’t have to think now.” And Crystal says, “Yeah, I’m with you.” … and then she goes and makes out with Charles.

10. Idk, it just seems a bit self-destructive of Charles to go make out with a girl right after she says that, and to kiss her for the first time right after she says “I just want something that’s real.” After he spent the whole day being jealous about Edwin spending time with Monty, and keeping a meeting with the Cat King from him, and after Charles lost his mind (understandably). Like, this is not the time to make romantic decisions! This can only end with someone getting hurt.