#justify this rage and anger and it's so stupid but sometimes that anger feels good? idk it's stupid but like i said i never interact

[toytulini]

i dont want to give in to Modern Shapewear but i really hate when im trying to have a Fun Outfit and theres fucking Distinct Lines from various under wear bands (bra, undies, maybe a pair of tights?) all at separate points? that are impossible to hide bc the outer wear is fucking form fitting spandex

[bunnyb34r]

I'm so burnt out my dudes

[scientia-rex]

Read some more of Toxic Parents tonight and wow!!!! the amount of anger I have!!! and the incredible unwillingness I have to actually remember my childhood and feel associated feelings!!!!! Like, there are events I keep telling over like talismans, because these are the events that prove I'm not crazy. These are things that happened that should never have happened. The time Dad kicked the door in is the biggest one. The time I spent twelve straight hours cowering in the far back of our station wagon with my fingers jammed in my ears so I wouldn't hear my father screaming at my mother and my mother sobbing as we drove to a different state. The time I told my mother I had gotten accepted to graduate school and her first words were, "How are you going to pay for it?" instead of "Congratulations" or "I'm proud of you."

But these aren't all of it. They're so far from all of it. One memory I have is not of the presence of abuse, but the sudden, bewildering absence of it: my sister drove me to the nearest town with a mall, an hour and a half away. We were stopping to pick up snacks for the drive back, I think at a Safeway. I picked up a box of Golden Grahams cereal and nervously asked my sister if I could have it. She said, "Of course you can, you know what you want." In the limbus of a childhood spent being told I was picking the wrong soda for myself when I gave my order at fast food restaurants, suddenly being told I could have what I wanted T-boned me emotionally. It was like running into a wall I hadn't known was there. What? I can just want things? I can just get things and have them because I want them? I don't have to justify it, or lie, or hide what I want? No one is going to tell me I'm stupid for wanting something or that I'll regret it?

Just an incessant drip-drip-drip of emotional abuse, sometimes punctuated by a flash flood. "If I leave your mother, how do you think you're going to eat? You're going to end up on the street."

And now, reading the section on how children end up feeling about the passive parents who enable abuse, I just think, oh, there's me! There's me. I hated her and pitied her and loved her and wanted more for her. I didn't have the adult emotional capacity to understand how much of her life she was complicit in, but damningly, I did vaguely, tangentially understand that she was constantly making excuses for Dad--coming to my bedroom to sit on my bed and tell me, while crying, that he was sorry, while he never apologized. Making it my job to comfort her. I said to her once that I remember, "If he was really sorry, he'd stop doing this," and she just looked at me with something that looked like sorrow but I could tell was rage--she was angry at me for not forgiving him and letting us snap right back into the "good" phase between angry outbursts, where we could, for however long it lasted, pretend to be a normal family.

And how she always resented me. She resented that I was separate from her, she resented that I could do and see and understand things she couldn't, she was angry when I went into Psychology, even angrier when I went into medicine. She's been throttling down her anger at Dad for as long as I've been alive, pretending to be malleable, having vague health complaints and maladies mixed in among the real ones, forever retiring to her bed with a washcloth over her eyes instead of interacting with me.

And now that I'm an adult, and not just an adult but a middle-aged doctor, why don't I call? Why do I insist on bringing up the past? Why do I expect Dad to apologize? I'm hurting his feelings, after all.

The past. Sure. When I graduated from medical school, he named the worst doctor we ever met and said, "He went to medical school, too. Don't get a big head."

And when we were talking, once, not long ago, maybe two years or so, about how he used to stand there and yell at us--I can't remember any of the words anymore, just the way he looked, the tone of his voice, the experience like being buffeted by a strong wind--he said, "At least your sister fought back. You just stood there and took it."

I can't imagine a clearer illustration that he doesn't actually regret his behavior. He doesn't regret his actions. He still feels justified. We were disappointments, we were failures, we weren't him, we weren't what he wanted for us, and more than that, we were convenient targets for his rage. You can do almost anything to your children and get away with it. And he didn't hit us, so it was okay, and the fact that we were hurt by the actions he took with the intent to hurt us means that we were weak. And it's okay to hurt the weak.

Christ! This is the man who, in a fit of sullen self-pity, when I gave him a mug that said "World's #1 Dad" for Father's Day when I was probably eight or nine, talked about how we both know that's not true. As if a child is your therapist. As if it were my responsibility to reassure him.

My mother has read Toxic Parents. My mother has read Why Does He Do That? She has a bachelor's and most of a master's in psychology. She has an IQ of 150. She is a bad mother. It feels like the worst judgment you can make, a bad mother. It feels worse than calling someone a bad father. Because we expect less from fathers. But a bad mother is unnatural.

But lots and lots and lots of mothers are bad at being mothers. And I love mine and I hate her, and I'm angry and I'll always be angry, and I'll die angry, and I have to try to carve what happiness I can from a world I entered into under false pretenses. I was always told I was wanted. I knew I wasn't. I may have been intentional, but I wasn't wanted.

My mother's mother just died last week. I didn't know her. She chose not to know us. I hadn't seen her since I was twenty-two and graduated from college. My mother is struggling with her relationship with her mother. She often tells me her mother was a narcissist. I want to ask her what she thinks she is. She's not a narcissist, but she's an enabler, she's a doormat, she's a classic case of codependency, and I don't think she sees it that way. I always got the sense she was just waiting for us to grow up and go away so she and Dad could go back to being happily miserable alone together.

I asked her, this last year, if she'd read Why Does He Do That? and she said she had, and she asked me carefully why I was thinking about it, waiting for me to confess to her that my husband of ten years was abusive. She's been gunning for this relationship since the beginning--I'd been with him for maybe a year when she mailed me a copy of He's Just Not That Into You (or maybe it was the sequel, It's Called a Breakup Because it's Broken) along with an article on how to date as a single older woman. I was 23. She was flabbergasted when I said I thought Dad was abusive. Denied it immediately. I listed examples and she didn't even say words, just made simultaneously pained and exasperated noises.

She wants me to be single and a career failure and pathetic so she can feel good about herself in comparison. Dad thinks he wants me to be like him, but if I actually behaved like he does, I think he finally would belt me.

I had to hide everything good in me from them so they wouldn't deliberately ruin it. I couldn't tell them about my writing. The first time I finished writing a novel I told Mom and she didn't even acknowledge it, just told me to do the dishes. I was sixteen. I can't tell them what I love about my husband because it would be like speaking to them in a foreign language. They think it's a performance, like their performance, and they're always waiting for me to slip up and reveal the misery they're sure is lurking just underneath.

I've done well. They don't own me. I wish I had real parents, but I'm going to try not to shop for oranges at the hardware store anymore.

[thedragonsfate]

FHJY thoughts under the cut bc I gotta sort my brain and can't be succinct to save my life

I think there's something interesting in acknowledge like

of COURSE Kipperlily underestimated the bad kids.

She's hated these kids from day 1. I know a lot of people want to acknowledge that it's not unreasonable for Kipperlily and the rat grinders to think the school is run unfairly (and you're right! it's a fair conclusion)

-- but we also gotta consider that this is something that took root in her VERY EARLY. Before the bad kids got really very good. Two bad kids die on the first day of school, they spend a significant amount of their second semester freshman year just. In Prison.

Of course what follows I'm sure spurs that hatred, but she all but declared Riz to be her nemesis with Jawbone freshman year.

She's probably got some good ideas of how stuff should change, but also she saw this random Goblin boy with a briefcase in rogue class and decided she Hates Him, for a reason none of us can fathom when several of the other bad kids give off worst first impressiona

She's a teenager, a kid, with anger issues. As much as their can be important nuggets at the core of her motives, she's a teenager without emotional regulation skills. That combination is BUILT to breed resentment and feelings of entitlement. and it's built to actively ignore any evidence of a different perspective.

We talk about how she doesn't understand them, takes Kristen as entirely uncaring, doesn't expect the bad kids to do so well in the Last Stand

and OF COURSE she doesn't. some of this because she of course is not privy to all of the bad kids interactions that we are as an audience. but a lot of it is probably because she's a teenager who's decided she's being slighted and as a result is never going to take the bad kids actions on good faith. she's doubled down and while I have a feeling she's extremely perceptive, she's also in an emotional place that means she probably is ACTIVELY ignoring any evidence to the fact that maybe the bad kids are just ALSO working very hard, and that the school itself may also work against them sometimes.

Add to that a god corrupted into rage (negative in this case) and conquest, and a nefarious faculty member as a potentially directly manipulative adult in her life trying to make something big and destructive happen. Kipperlily strikes me as the kind of person who knows she's smart, and knows she's clever, but is so blinded by her emotion that she is probably missing some of whats clearly in front of her as far as all the Jace business goes. She certainly is about the bad kids.

Jawbone can only do so much to help her in her sessions if he's being actively worked against. Emotional regulation is hard to learn from zero AS AN ADULT and she's probably coming from the negatives if my impression is correct, and is doing so as a teenager.

I guess what I'm trying to say is like

In a vacuum? Sure augeforts comment about trying being stupid or whatever does seem like another slap in the face for Kipperlily, one that justifies some of her feelings.

But not about the bad kids. and not to the extent she has taken them.

And to take that at its word feels weird to me because. To anybody paying attention? The bad kids are and have been trying SO SO hard in class. Them having to take the last stand in the FIRST place is specifically because the school system is treating Kristen unfairly DESPITE her best, GOOD efforts. I'm certain the rat grinders are on some level aware of Gorgugs EXTREMELY uphill battle with schoolwork this season, even if it's just Maryann catching part of a convo with Porter or Ruben hearing about it from his uncle. I HIGHLY doubt that Oisin was oblivious to the way that Adaines academics were affected by her not having the money for the correct materials - she still was able to excel mostly but the effects of that roll being at disadvantage for so long are still THERE. Jawbone pinned down and mentioned to Riz his similarities to Kipperlily within maybe 2 seconds - there is 0% chance he hasn't brought something similar up in Kipperlilys sessions. She may not like it, she may not have the emotional intelligence to see it this way, but his efforts almost certainly mirror hers in a way that makes them equally hard workers, absolutely determined to keep themselves afloat despite it being an uphill battle. Something that she feels she deserves to be rewarded for, and to an extent implies that if just a few circumstances were different she would be able to see equal value in his work.

And sure you can say she may be able to see that and be angry that their work is rewarded and hers isn't, but we see time and time again that she and her party don't always put that same level of work in? Mary Ann at blood rush, absolutely uncaring but doing well specifically because she's got some magical enhancements. The suspicious circumstances of Kipperlily finding the Rogue teacher. Even just the natural advantage of Oisin having more than the funds he needs to excel in wizard class.

But even regardless of that, she seems to refuse to see that any scenario in which others are praised for the same thing she's done, while she is ignored etc, is the sole responsibility of the school here. the bad kids are not her enemies in that fight - augefort is. The bad kids are not going around being consistently given advantages from the school, they're earning the things they get and hitting their own academic road blocks, and they aren't acting better than other people in a way that goes beyond like. Teen stuff. And yet her sights are trained so unblinking on them.

I can see Fabian and Kristen's popularity and personalities coming off like it supports that they're being treated better or feel some superiority. And it's teen stuff to quietly hate those ppl at your school! it's p normal!

But it always brings me back to her SPECIFICALLY hating Riz. Bc Riz isn't a rich kid throwing parties that everyone loves. Hes not sniping out comebacks the way Kristen does, sometimes without even thinking. In a lot of ways he's the/one of the least abrasive of the group to an outsider. Which makes me SO much more inclined to call bullshit that this is truly, honestly rooted in an acknowledgement of any of the REAL problems that come up with their school system.

It's complex, but I feel like we can't exalt their perspective as a Truth of the world like it seems some folks do when these characters themselves do not play fairly. What is fair about the way they interfered with the exam. What is fair about what she did so easily to Buddy Dawn. What is fair about the murder of the couple that owned that farm. Depending on what happened - what is fair from them about Lucy's murder. Certainly what is fair about their hand in Yolandas.

This idea that things are unfair isn't untrue. But not in the ways she thinks, and shes moved so far beyond that notion at this point. Kipperlily probably DOES believe that she's uniquely a victim of this system, or at least that everyone but the bad kids is. But she's moved so far beyond that. Whatever divine rage magic is involved has ensured that, as well as probably some Adult manipulation, and severely underdeveloped emotional regulation skills. and for me that means like. obviously she is unjustified in her actions.

Augefort is absolutely unhinged. his school has never been run in a manner that rewards buckling down in the classroom and the classroom only. It's an adventuring school in truly the most chaotic and violence rewarding sense, and that information is given freely by Arthur augefort at maybe any turn

Saw something about the theoretical being just as important as the practical. and yes! absolutely! a very good point that I'm glad was brought up - going to the classes is important and I think this season has really emphasized the ways in which that's true at least in terms of Staying in School and Honing your Skills

I do think, in the same breath, that that STILL means that the practical is ALSO just as important as the theoretical. It CAN'T be one or the other, it HAS to be both.

and the bad kids are DOING both. regardless of what it may count for, the rat grinders xp leveling by continuing to do freshman level combat in order to excel more on paper ISN'T them really doing the practical part of what theyre learning in their higher level classes. And the bad kids do not get credit for their saving of the world REGARDLESS. Not on its own merit, and to get the credit they'd have to jump a hefty academic bar that sort of invalidates the point of practical efforts in the first place, not to mention works against students like Fig and Kristen.

The school is actively rewarding Kipperlily and her party's cheat code practical use of their skills, over the bad kids putting just as much if not more effort into their LITERALLY WORLD SAVING missions. whatever favoritism shes seeing, or that there may be occasionally, Kipperlily fundamentally takes the bad kids in bad faith. It's not ABOUT what is ACTUALLY unfair to her at this point.

from her perspective every accolade or accomplishment from them HAS to come from favoritism in order to fit how her view of whats actually unfair has been warped. for her it doesn't MATTER that they've been trying because they MUST not be trying as hard as she is. it doesn't matter that they visibly saved the world three times, one of which was livestreamed and included several party members dropping, successfully because surely it's a fluke, or they were given better opportunities than others for no reason, or they're being falsely worshipped for what MUST be a less dangerous quest than it seems (despite us seeing clearly on the first day of school that nobody is putting a pedestal up for their night yorb win)

What could have been a justified spark of frustration with a system has shifted into a vengeful sense of entitlement that to me? fully abandons the good of wanting to change a school system actively working against some (/all?) students.

idk maybe this all sounds like jibberish I just

Kipperlily in her current state is INCAPABLE of not underestimating the bad kids bc that would require some acknowledgement that they have worked and bled and died to reach the level they're at.

You cannot separate the girl who sneaks in to the Last Stand to sabotage another party's chances of passing, of staying at school, of continuing school, of one of them from potentially keeping their god alive, and of being brought back from what she assumes is certain death - from the slighted teenager running for class president to make things "more fair"

you cannot separate the girl who easily slits her own party clerics throat without second thought from the girl who thinks she's been slighted by an unjust system

What she means by unfair is inherently colored by her being that same person

Augefort can say whatever nonsense he wants, and it doesn't really justify her current frustrations at this point because her version of fair is fundamentally unfair now.

Shes a child who's become corrupted, just like Buddy. but unlike him - she's become genuinely nefarious and vengeful. Unlike buddy she is actively plotting. Harming others with full knowledge of it. We don't know how much of it comes from her on her own, or the rage baking underground, or Stardiamonds direct involvement - but I think this most recent episode should make it clear that like

Whatever truth there is to the school being run in a way that is unfair to its students, and regardless of what she says or thinks

Kipperlily Copperkettle is not operating from that grounded perspective. and I don't think she has been for a long time

[mxomo]

care (2/3) ♡ ︎miya atsumu

Atsumu learns that sometimes, the things you love the most don't come back. c/w: haikyuu, female reader, fluff, comfort. emotionally stunted atsumu. a/n: i wrote this in 30 minutes. check out the other installments!︎

At first, he thought he was furious. The fact that you just got up and left, just like that, was incomprehensible and he vented that anger on anyone who would listen for weeks after you were gone, oblivious to the incredulous looks he received every time he opened his mouth. It was Inarizaki’s firm opinion that Atsumu was the densest, most emotionally stunted, ungrateful member of their team sometimes. Inarizaki was under no misconceptions; your heart was set for Atsumu, and none of them ever thought of bringing their relationships with you beyond the line of flirty banter at most, perfect for lighting a blush on their cute manager’s face. The Inarizaki team adored their manager, who reciprocated those feelings just as strongly, and they were grateful that your love for Atsumu extended to volleyball as well.

Which only confirmed for them exactly how stupid he was to let you go.

Yes, Atsumu had it all planned out - he would go to Tokyo, win Nationals then come find you, tell you he was sorry and that he missed you more than he could have ever imagined. As the months went by he never ceased sending you texts saying good morning and good night, a habit that he picked up about two weeks after your move in some kind of attempt to entice you to speak to him. Did it matter, really, that you hadn’t texted him back for so long? He told himself no, because he was sure you just needed that space and that, with time, he would be with you again. You had been best friends since you were children, and it wasn’t the first time you had been upset with him because of his thoughtlessness. This wasn’t the first time you had pulled away from him for being a bit of a prick, why would this be any different?

His anger chipped away with every incident that reminded him you were no longer there for him. Each time he forgot to pack his sweat towel or left his lunch at home or woke up late for a match or to get to school. When he would win and you wouldn’t be standing there with a tupperware of honey and lemons for him and the team. When you were no longer glowing beneath the street lamps at the corner of his home, waiting for him to come out so you could both enjoy what little time Atsumu had to spare. When there was a massive pile of laundry in the corner of his room because you hadn’t been stealing all of his hoodies and shirts that smelled like him, only returning them when the scent faded. Instead, that burning, bubbling heat of hatred ebbed into a cold and disconcerting sadness that Atsumu had no idea how to handle, the only action actually managing to numb that emptiness he felt being his plan on how to get you back.

But Atsumu had never counted on losing. He never counted on being knocked out by a tiny team the year he was the firm favourite to win.

He never counted on walking away from that match, tears in his eyes, as he tried his hardest to keep it together in front of his team.

He didn’t count on having to find you, with no victory to justify his treatment of you.

He especially never counted on not having to find you at all.

Atsumu froze in place, forcing a huffy Osamu to bump into the back of him, muttering curses at his twin for being so inattentive. Atsumu, eyes fixed in the distance, lifted his hand and pointed at the scene in front of him.

‘Oh,’ Osamu said unhelpfully, stopping his angry spiel in its tracks. ‘That’s y/n.. isn’t it?’

Yes, Atsumu had never counted on you coming to him, in all your glory, with a smile that would put the sun to shame as a team of red gathered around you, chattering away happily as you distributed water bottles to each of them. He didn’t count on the blinding, all-consuming rage that filled his stomach as he noticed a tall guy that, surely, must have been half rooster if his hair was any indication, draping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you in for a quick kiss on the forehead. He never thought he would see that sunbeam smile of yours directed at anybody but him, yet he found himself jealously clenching his fists as he watched you snuggle into the side of him, absentmindedly wrapping your own arms around him whilst smiling at the team that had swiftly started picking on you lovebirds for being gross and affectionate in public.

He didn’t expect you to look up and right at him and it forced all of the air out of his lungs with one big woosh, along with all of his hopes of being with you.

“Y/n,” a voice called, and it took Atsumu a few moments to tear his eyes away from you long enough to realise it was Kita that was speaking. Both groups had, during Atsumu’s turbulent thinking time, moved closer and closer together and, to his horror, her and her new boyfriend were right there. “You look well,” Kita continued warmly, smiling at you in the fatherly way he always did.

“Hi guys!” you had chirped cheerfully, choosing to ignore the interaction with Atsumu and focus your attention completely on the others. You pulled each of them in for a hug, squeezing some harder than others. They were your team, after all, for years and no matter what your relationship with Atsumu may be, you loved Inarizaki with your whole heart. Whilst you didn’t leave him out of your circle of hugs, you didn’t linger, and he felt the loss of your warmth sooner than he really processed you were giving him a hug at all. “I’m sorry you didn’t win. Karasuno is really tough to beat.”

“You know them?” Kita enquired, eyebrow raised. As far as he was aware, you had moved to Tokyo, not Karasuno; it was an unlikely connection to them and the more bitter members of the group- Suna and Atsumu- couldn’t help but resent the fact you had known of this team and not discussed it with them beforehand.

You nodded, a soft smile on your face as you recalled the time spent with the Karasuno team. “My new school has a really big rivalry with them that goes way back, so we actually trained with them a lot,” you replied, flashbacks of each practice camp and your interactions with both teams making your chest feel warm. “Let me introduce you guys- it’s a shame you won’t get to play my team, because Karasuno haven’t managed to beat them just yet. Nekoma taught them a lot.”

The gaggle of men behind you had settled down as you spoke to your old team, casting a wary eye on them as you spoke. Each of them nodded or said hello to the other as you introduced them, working your way around until you got to the end.

“- This is my cousin Kozume, he’s the one who somehow convince me to manage this group of degenerates-“ a series of offended Hey! chimed through the group, which you ignored as you swiftly moved onto your final introduction of the man that still had his arm wrapped protectively around you, “And, finally, this is Kuroo, the team captain.”

“Pleasure,” Kuroo grinned, his charm as infectious as ever. “I’ve heard a lot about the team that had the pleasure of this one’s company. I was hoping we would get the chance to play against you.”

Atsumu glared, openly and aggressively, at the taller man who only smirked in result but kept his mouth shut - much to your surprise.

The two teams made small talk for another few minutes, you being the glue that kept the conversation going, your cheerfulness at seeing the two teams you love the most interacting with each other creating more incentive for them to try to get along. But they didn’t hang around long as Nekoma’s match was due to start any moment and Coach Nekomata had started his usual routine of standing angrily and quietly by the gymnasium doors, waiting for them to hurry.

Nekoma quickly said their goodbyes and shuffled off to their coach, leaving you trailing behind at a more leisurely speed as you waved goodbye to your old friends.

“Y/n,” Atsumu finally managed, his throat feeling dry as he watched you turn to walk away from him. He would later realise how pathetic it was of him that he felt so grateful you’d decided to turn around and look at him instead of ignoring him outright.

“Yes?” you had said expectantly, your face blank as you took in the features of the boy you were once utterly convinced would be your forever and always. And it was because of this belief that, even though seeing him tore up your insides and reminded you exactly of what was and what could’ve been, you couldn’t bring yourself to be angry with him. Even though being with him splintered at your happiness and losing him was even worse; even though the hurt outweighed the good hugely by the time you had gathered the courage to step away; even though seeing him so sad like this made your mending heart fall apart once more - you still loved him, so much, and Atsumu was home for so long that you couldn’t help but hope, just a little, that maybe he finally understood how he treated you badly, even though he was never actually mean. Maybe those sad eyes, those shaking hands meant that Atsumu finally realised he was a thoughtless bastard with a nasty competitive streak, but would be willing to try for you. Maybe he would learn to be less selfish, because he was a sweet, strong, kind person stuck in the body of a shortsighted, self-centred, abrasive manchild that didn’t yet understand the world didn’t revolve around him, and that to be loved meant loving, and giving, in return. If only you had chosen to date ten years down the line instead; maybe you would be one of those couples who live life apart and one day reunite, battered by life but saved from melancholy by each other. A stupid hope, sure, but - unfortunately - it was the only thought that made you confident enough to walk away.

You loved Atsumu, so much, but you were trying to love yourself a little more.

His mouth opened and closed a few times, unsure and unable to form the words. His brain was travelling a thousand miles per hour and he was struggling to put together literally any words that would somehow magic you back to him, because despite your hopes blossoming for just a moment, he didn’t work fast enough to catch the moment he needed to convince you to come home to him, and the seconds ticked by, locking that door firmly shut.

You sighed. “I’m sorry, but I have to go,” you’d said gently, an apologetic smile on your face as you twisted your hands together nervously, unsure under the scrutiny of the Inarizaki team. “Bye, Atsumu. Bye, everyone.”

With one final wave, you turned and picked up the pace, jogging over to the Nekoma captain that was waiting patiently for you by the double doors. You fell into his arms, trying desperately not to burst into tears as the reality that you had bumped into your ex with your new boyfriend right there sank in. “Come on, then,” Kuroo had said gently, choosing to skip the insults for once as he was very familiar with your story and all of the emotions that came with it. His hand worked it’s way into your hair, petting you a little like a cat as you breathed him in and you let him guide you into the gym, disappearing from Atsumu’s view in just seconds, giving him just a moment to watch you lean into Kuroo the same way you used to do to him when you needed comfort.

Atsumu was a winner. He had it all planned, what he would do when he would win, how it would solve all of your problems, how surely you would be so understanding and come right home to him because why not when he loved and needed you so much? This man, this stranger you have somehow allowed into your arms where he should have been, would never understand you the way he did, and he knew that. This Kuroo character, who had cast him one last lingering stare as he moved around the corner with you, would never make you feel the way he did, he was sure of it. His hurt screamed that one day you would miss him more than he misses you now. He loved you, so much, and you were happy once - and nobody could take that from him.

And as you walked away from him, you could see each and every thought he had crossing over his face as he cycled through his jumbled emotions in some kind of attempt to understand what he was feeling. You knew that he would be telling himself you wouldn’t find anyone like him, who made you feel the way he did. He would be saying that with pride in an attempt to make himself feel better. And it just confirmed for you that, all those months ago, you had done the right thing. Because Atsumu was right, Kuroo would not make you feel the way Atsumu did, because Kuroo always made time for you and always thanked you for everything you did for him, and he always made you laugh. He made you feel different to how Atsumu did; and whilst your heart was still healing from losing your true childhood sweetheart, you weren’t opposed to letting Kuroo in to pick up the pieces - a job he had happily volunteered for, after you spilled your guts to him one day, full of tears, and he scooped you up and told you that it was all going to be okay.

But if Atsumu was ready to understand that the moments of happiness he gave you didn’t justify the emotional shitstorm he put you through, then he would never have lost you in the first place.

Atsumu was a winner. And as he watched that empty space of where you once stood, he realised that he never planned for what to do when he finally lost.

masterlist - part one • part two • part three

[koushisatori]

if you can't believe in others, at least believe in us

kyoutani x gn!reader

genre: as ordered: a bit of angst w a touch of comfort

warnings: one (1) big jealous idiot, miscommunication

word count: 5.4k

note: this is smth an anon asked me to do (but like...nearly a year ago, I'm not sure if anon is still there or if they remember and my dumbass deleted the ask so I just beta-ed through whatever I had but I know they called me out on enjoying jealous characters so here we go) I'm sorry, mysterious anon, I'm stupid </3 Anyway, that's that. I don't remember if reader was supposed to be female or not so I made it gn!reader (but if I forgot to change something, pls tell me so I can fix any errors c: It's also my first attempt I apologize in advance)

In the beginning, you weren't sure why your boyfriend is ignoring you

You can't remember doing something that would annoy him, nor do you remember an instant of anger in his eyes that would give you a hint about his reasoning to stay away from you

He explained early on that sometimes he just needs a day of distance because Kentarou could feel the anger simmering right under the surface, enough that something small could tick him off already, and he would hate if you were on the receiving end of this unexplained fury

Both of you also made sure to promise each other to clearly communicate, the relationship between the two of you would not last long if you're not properly telling each other what might be bothering or hurting...just in general cross a boundary

Communication probably was one of the most important aspects of your relationship

cue to the actual situation: your boyfriend avoiding you

So, Monday evening you think maybe it's this overwhelming sensation of unexplained anger and that something at morning practice ticked him off completely

But then Tuesday comes and goes, and your boyfriend had avoided you all day long, did not even bother to read your messages,

on Wednesday, you try to talk to him, but all he does is glaring at you with a look that leaves you speechless and kind of heartbroken,

Thursday is the day you're replaying everything you did on Monday, trying to find something that he could have misunderstood, yet no matter how hard you think about it…your brain won't come up with a reason that explained why Kentarou was so upset with you!

So you decide to make him talk to you on Friday

Enough is enough, right? For gods' sake, he is your boyfriend! You miss him and his strong arms that give hugs so warm that you melt right into them

You don't get a second alone with him until school ends

you practically sprint out of the school building over to the gym, knowing that he had a free hour, which means that he is probably the first person there - your only chance

There he is, sitting with his back to you, aggressively chewing on a bun filled with chicken - his usual that reminded him of his favorite dish - glaring holes into the ground

After taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you carefully aks: ''Kentaro…Ken…?'', slowly stretching out your hand, wanting to rest it on his shoulder to maybe help to soothe him a bit

he flinches instead and his heated, agitated gaze meets your eyes, making you recoil in return

''…will you talk to me, I miss you…'' you say softly, realizing how it hurt being ignored by him

''Ah, suddenly you miss me…'' he spits, narrowing his eyes ''…didn't fucking seem like it the last time I saw you…''

''Kentaro, baby, I have no idea what you mean,'' you plead, keeping your voice low to hide the desperation lacing it, confusion written all over your features

all Kyoutani does is growl, hopping down from where he's sitting while shouldering his gym bag

''...shouldn't have been so flirty with Shittykawa like that then-'' he grumbles - ''Ken, I didn't-'' you insist, but he continues ''twirling your hair, batting your pretty eyelashes at him, fuck you Y/N, if you want him, then feel free to take a fucking leave" Kyoutani cusses, not even listening to you

You shake your head, ''Kentaro, no, you totally misunderstood the situation,'' you follow up, panic seeping into your voice now that you knew what he referred to, ''I love yo-''

''Tsk'', he moves to leave

you try to take his hand but, instead of turning around, Kyoutani just rips it away from you, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket

from behind you, you hear Yahaba and Oikawa approaching (talking about Volleyball and Captains duties)

once they guessed what must have happened, they offered you their help (they both swear that Kyoutani will never ever find a ''cute s/o as you are, y/n-chan, I'm worried for my little angry pomeranian kohai'' )

Usually, you would try to talk to him, but after enduring a week of radio silence and now this treatment, you were tired of upholding something that seemed like a lost cause

you just wave both setters off and leave the school grounds, a frown plastered onto your lips and tears swimming in your eyes

Kentarou had not listened to you, did not even really look at you, and the few seconds he did, his eyes were filled with rage instead of the warmth he had usually reserved for you (and only for you)

If your boyfriend thinks avoiding you for a week and blaming you for something ridiculous without hearing you out is how you handle a relationship…maybe you would have to consider not pursuing it any longer

Which is easier said than done

The whole night you wait for a message, anything, and then all Saturday morning

you still had hope left

You get one from Yahaba, who tells you that Oikawa tried to clear up the situation as well after the reason for your fight dawned on him (Kyoutanis piss poor mood and behavior towards him a strong indicator) but Kentaro, again, just ran off

The future team captain even called you after your lackluster answer, listening to you getting the frustration and sadness out of your system

It didn't matter, right? Your boyfriend decided to unofficially call it quits by implying that your feelings for him were not genuine instead of using his mouth to talk to you and disregarding everyone involved

as if he wanted to ignore the truth as a convenient excuse to get out of your relationship

that's the conclusion your brain came up with

You softly sniffle in the privacy of your room, clutching a pillow to your chest (which has seen more tears in the last two days than in the past three years), deciding that it would be a good idea to go into the city to treat yourself

knowing that your mother has a hair-dresser appointment somewhen today, you go and announce that you would join her to finally buy the latest season of your favorite series

once there, you additionally get microwave popcorn, chocolate, and ice cream, as well as a pretty shirt you saw on a mannequin while window shopping

you feel a lot better after spending some money and ignoring the lingering sadness of your presumable break up with Kyoutani (who you love ok, it is not that easy)

In between your stops, you meet Iwaizumi and Oikawa munching on fatty burgers (celebrating your cheat days like a holiday and indulging in whatever your heart desires, is what makes it easier to stick with healthier habits the rest of the time was the questionable explanation coming from the brown-haired setter, pointing at you with a soggy potato fry)

after a moment, the setters eyes turn sad, a frown replacing the smile on his lips

he wraps his fingers around your wrist to stop you from going just yet, apologizing for being the cause of your fight and for being unable to talk some sense into him

(you assure him that it is not his fault, knowing that your friend will probably brood over it otherwise, which wouldn't be fair)

Iwaizumi adds that Kyoutani will come around and that his cooldown time is just longer than those of other people (and if not, he will give him one of his famous volleyballs to the head and use his status as only truly respected senpai to talk some sense into him) but you again decline their suggestions

after saying goodbye (and seeing Iwaizumi give his best friend an assuring gentle pat on his shoulder, the secret softy in the usual harsh ace shining through)

If Kentaro was willing...able to throw away your relationship this easily, he can't possibly really love you, and you'd accept this even if it's hard and painful

Now remembered of what you had attempted to forget about, you feel your eyes sting with unshed tears (you thought there was no possibility of you having more tears to spill, yet the impossible seemed to be the case) you look down at your phone to text your mom and frown

Kentaro 🥰: we need to talk. Kentaro 🥰: meet me there [location]

For a second, you hesitate, biting your lower lip harshly…you really want to go and talk to him but…

The tears still sting in your eyes and blurring your view reminded you of what you had gone through the whole time, and that it was his turn to finally come to you

break up or makeup, the ball was in his court now

so while walking to where your mother would be waiting for you, you begin to type

You: No.

You: I waited for you all week, even though you ignored me, and now you expect me to run the moment you choose to stop being a childish idiot?

You: if you decide to speak to me then comqjdkn

Kentarou wouldn't say he feels particularly bad. Not at all! If someone was to ask him, he would probably answer fucking peachy, what the fuck are you asking for or growl angrily. No one would bat an eye and further question him, nor guess that maybe he wasn't as great as he pretended because he missed his gorgeous better half, but…it was his fault, wasn't it?

Of course, he originally thought he had a valid reason to be upset. And if he had just spoken to you about it, everything would be solved now. Instead of being a decent boyfriend, though, his pride overtook his thinking processes once he realized that his behavior wasn't even the slightest bit justified. Not that he knew this when he saw you speaking with Shittykawa right before school. All he could see was his gorgeous s/o shyly fiddling with her fingers, conversing with a leaned forward, very involved Oikawa Tooru. He would have fetched you away from the brown-haired setter. He had no qualms about showing his possessiveness. God, Kentarou wouldn't have hesitated to growl at the tall, brown-haired boy if not for the question he heard coming from the Captain.

''Y/N-chan, how is it that you, an adorable, charming individuum, is with a brute like Mad Dog-chan? I really-'' Well, that's where he decided to leave you with the setter. He didn't need to hear your answer. Didn't want to witness an excuse or maybe the truth. If both of you were so fucking smitten with each other to flirt this blatantly, why don't you just go and cheer for him, hold his hand, and kiss his cheek goodbye? It was his choice to distance himself.

Kyoutani couldn't help the feeling of betrayal and hurt washing over him. Maybe you just used him as a stepping stone to get closer with Oikawa, and Kyoutani has been too blind to see it. He never doubted you or your relationship before, but it's not a secret how eruptive Kyoutani could be. It has always been beyond his imagination how someone so cute and sweet like you could love a person like him. Your friends thought so. The teachers. The whole school! Everyone questioned your poor judgment. And when you came running up to him, you're cheery voice calling out for him, everyone present looked at you like you grew a second head. It's the reason why seeing you with Trashykawa ticked him off so bad. It catered to his biggest insecurities and fears. He knew that all those skeptics would be delighted to see you, everyone's darling, with the schools' star setter. They all would agree that the pretty, handsome young man is a better fit than the always hostile-looking troublemaker.

While Kyoutani didn't take Oikawa seriously in most cases, he undoubtedly was one of the most devoted people Kentarou had ever met. If Oikawa wanted to get a new serve right, he wouldn't stop trying and repeating it until his legs gave in, and Iwaizumi dragged him out of the gym. When he wanted to find more advanced players to practice with, so he could, in return, give this new knowledge to his team, there was no way he would not manage to make it happen. Even if his ideas, wishes, and plans cost him blood, sweat, and tears (like getting Kyoutani to actually train), Oikawa never backed down. Kentarou had heard that Oikawa's last girlfriend dumped him because of his passion for Volleyball. Yet Kyoutani couldn't help but think that, in you, the ambitious setter would have found someone that would be able to handle it. You usually came over to watch the team when you knew that Kyoutani was there to play. You sat on the stands with your homework in your lap and a Seijoh-coloured pencil wiggling between your fingers, not bothered by the noises coming from the court. You play with your earlobe while you frown at whatever problem you came across. You patiently wait for practice to finish. Kentarou was sure that you'd be someone Oikawa would actually try for. You weren't one of his squealing fangirls, hanging from his arm on every opportunity, but his friend. You didn't pester him to take selfies with you while pushing cute bentos into his hands. When you bring food to practice, then it's for the whole team to share. If he wanted you, Oikawa would probably have to win you over and make sure that you'd stay. Courting and all that jazz. In all seriousness, Shittykawa would be a fucking idiot if not.

The dyed-blond wing spiker had been so sure that he was rightfully mad that he didn't stop to think twice before he reacted this coldly towards you. But, and this made it even worse, Kentarou knew that he was wrong the moment you asked what happened after an entire week of enduring his silent treatment. The second he heard your shaky voice and saw the tears welling up in your eyes, his brain rebooted, and suddenly he wasn't so sure of his own reasoning. You two were together for about half a year. Kyoutani - by now - was confident in his ability to identify most of your expressions. All he could decipher in your eyes was pain, paired with a need to understand, but…if he was in the wrong…it would mean that he had hurt you the whole week, which in conclusion implied that Kentarou had been the world's shittiest boyfriend. Fuck, he thought, I don't deserve y/n.

His situation didn't get any better the moment Oikawa entered the gym. The person Kyoutani thought he had a real reason to despise now tried to mend the rift between the two of you.

''Mad Dog-chan, I think you misunderstood something there. Well, no, you decided to not listen-'' The taller male says, hands gesturing wildly. While his voice still had that annoyingly cheery tone, it had something commanding hidden underneath. And oh, how Kentarou hated when someone demanded something of him, even if it was for his own good. ''Don't want to hear it.'' the blond mutters, already aggravated. The brown-haired setter resolutely puts himself in the way again. ''Oh, but you have to! That morning, Y/N-chan literally declared her love for yo-'' - ''I don't fucking care.'' Kentarou barks, not looking Oikawa in the eyes.

After another fruitless attempt to get properly into the gym, he growls and turns to leave. Already on his way to grab his stuff and take a leave, he hears Oikawa yelling. ''You answered and justified why I asked Y/N-chan to begin with!" And then louder, even though he could make out Iwaizumi trying to wrestle his childhood friend back into the gym, "APOLOGIZE, YOU IDIOT! YOU BETTER GROVEL FOR Y/N'S FORGIVENESS! THEY DESERVE BETTER THAN THIS SHOW YOU'RE PUTTING ON, AND YOU KNOW IT!"

This happened on Friday evening, and the guilt was gnawing away on him ever since. On his way home, Kyoutani had automatically taken the detour to your house. Kentarou enjoyed bringing you home (and more often than not, you pulled him inside with you, making him cuddle you!). It makes him feel like a good boyfriend, and he knew that you arrived there safely. He would never tell anybody and deny it if you ever decided to share this, but Kentarou relished in the feeling of your hand holding his all the way while going on about your day. He admired that you'd pet every cat and every dog you meet on the trip home together with him. You were perfect for him…why again did he act like this?

What caused Kyoutani's attempt to apologize - in his usual overly blunt and partly aggressive kind of way - was Yahaba, though. Both boys denied being remotely something beyond 'not really enemies'. But his future team captain was definitely one of the very few people that could and would tell him to his face that he fucked up without real repercussions. He would presumably even help Kyoutani to get it together.

After Yahaba had called you and listened to your heartbreaking rant, the setter realized that you, his friend, and his 'not really enemy' needed to talk ut out. Totally immersed in your tirade, you accidentally let slip that you couldn't endure Kyoutani's treatment any longer. That being pushed over by your boyfriend with brash and hurtful words after handling the cold shoulder was too much. That you expected Kyoutani to break up with you on Monday either way. In-person, if he had mercy on you or continue his treatment as a silent method of doing so. While you told Yahaba about your planned ''get over it-self-care'' weekend (involving tons of ice cream, movies with crying guarantee, lots of blankets, and no smartphone), the setter had already put on his jacket, shooting a message to Kyoutani.

From Yahaba: get your stupid fucking ass outside to meet me, or I'll bench you the complete season next year

Even though the wing spiker was sure that Yahaba's words were nothing but empty words, Kentarou allowed himself to accept this threat as an excuse to put his pride aside. Because, even though Yahaba annoyed him to no end - not as bad as Oikawa but still - Kentarou was also aware that you and he were friends. If someone could help him gaining your forgiveness, Kyoutani had to accept and admit that it was Yahaba. Meeting his light brown-haired teammate was kind of awkward. Kyoutani was unsure what he had to expect, though he should have seen the rough treatment coming. Yet, getting told that you, the person Kentarou was undeniably in love with, felt so neglected and hurt that you deemed this relationship to be as good as over allowed the guilt monster in his chest to grow. Shitty Oikawa was probably right ordering him to grovel and beg on his knees for you to even hear him out.

Your answer to his message was partly unlike you. Well, the last sentence. You usually were pretty forward with him to avoid miscommunication and uncalled-for moping around. And while you sometimes send keyboard smashes to express the chaos you felt, they were always in a separate message and not so…random. The text definitely meant something like ''then come to me'' but somehow, Kyoutani had an uneasy feeling about the whole thing.

Besides, he couldn't just wait till Monday and hope that you'd accept his apology! You may send him away today already, but he still had a teeny-tiny bit of hope. If he let the thoughts of him leaving you or the other way around fester in your mind for two whole days, though,…you'd probably realize that leaving him wasn't that bad of a decision. You'd come to the conclusion that all your admirers could treat you better than Kyoutani did. And he was too selfish to let you leave. Even though all he did the whole week was being self-centered and stuck up, he would be damned to begin being a saint now and let you go. That you at least were willing to talk to him was…a relief, to say the least. Kentarou hoped that this translated to you being willing to put up with him a little longer if he apologized correctly. That you're not opposed to giving him another chance to make things right.

At your house, he was greeted with darkness. Not even a single light illuminating any of the rooms he could see from his spot on your front lawn. And the ones he saw were your and your mom's most-used rooms. Your room window, your mothers' workroom, and the living room area with an adjacent kitchen. All of those rather significant rooms and the lack of light in them seemed to be a dead giveaway for Kyoutani that no one was home. Kyoutani guessed that you were probably out with your mom, glancing over to the empty spot in front of the garage.

Oh god, your mother had been the only supportive person of your relationship. Maybe it's in your family to see the best in everyone, even in shitty people like him. But if you told her about his behavior, she'd most likely not welcome him with a smile ever again, no matter if you forgave him.

There weren't many things Kyoutani could do in this situation, but it wasn't as late as nature let it on, and after a few seconds, he had decided to sit down at the front door and wait for you, hoping that it wouldn't take too long for you to come home. As if fate wanted to tell him something, the wing spiker had put on the jacket with the half-full power bank. He had worn it to the shelter when he visited it this week while distracting himself from your absence in his daily life. You had gifted him the piece of clothing, which is probably why he unconsciously had decided to wear it to everything he did after school in the first place.

Kentarou passed the time by snarling at people eyeing him for a moment too long to not be judgmental, petting the neighbors' cat wandering over to him, and watching videos. Every time he thought ''Y/N would like this'', his heart stuttered guilty.

To Kentarou, it felt like an eternity until your mother's car finally drove up the entry. To avoid your mother's potentially deadly stare, he nervously checked his mobile, realizing that he had waited for a little more than 3 hours. Yet, the wait had done nothing to soothe his nerves. They instantly spiked up again while his heart threatened to jump out of his throat.

She will hate me. Your mother would hate me, she'll hate me, she'll ha-

''Ah, Ken-chan! Good evening.'' Your mother greets him with a tired, yet still gentle smile. Oh. The blond blanches. He'd never admit it, but he enjoyed the treatment he received from your mother more than he should. Being spoken to without suspicion and receiving a warm smile every time without fail was a welcome change to his daily life. Your mother didn't listen to people trying to bad-mouth him. To her, he simply was the boy that - normally - treats her child the way a mother wished for. Even if he pulled a face as long as a fiddle.

''I didn't know you were coming, Ken-chan, or I would have messaged you…but now that you're here, maybe you can assist us out and help Y/N inside? It would help a lot.'' His gaze immediately flitted over to you on the passenger seat. With your arms crossed in front of your chest and that stubborn but endearingly cute pout on your lips, he nearly missed the tiredness your body emitted. Kentarou wanted to rush over to your side immediately but was stopped by your mother again. ''I don't know what you two are fighting about…but please talk to each other. I don't want my baby to be this sad. Especially now, and…'' she rests a hand on his shoulder, her eyes kind and comforting ''…I also don't want to miss you here, alright?'' He stiffly nodded and watched your mother carrying in plastic bags filled with various medicine packages and food.

After coming back to his senses, Kyoutani finally stumbled over to your side, practically ripping open the car door. This new perspective revealed a plaster cast wrapping your whole left leg and a removable wrist brace on your right hand. ''Bab- Y/N…what the fuck…happened?'' His honey-brown eyes continued to wander over your injuries, and with every second, he found more. Scratches and scrapes, bandaids and bandages peeking out from underneath your clothes. ''I'm so sorry,'' he whispered, hanging his head low.

All your intentions to fight his helping hand and limp over to the door by yourself disintegrated into nothing. You never witnessed such a devastated, beaten expression on his face before. Instead, you settle for ''Will you help me?''. A question asked quietly to your fingers picking at a loose band-aid edge on your arm and pressing it back onto the irritated skin.

After you loosened your seatbelt, he waits for you to carefully place your arms around his neck. It is followed by Kyoutani lifting you out of the car so gently as if he was afraid you might break. This whole situation in itself already contradicting his brash appearance and usual behavior. It would give whiplash to all the people pretending to know him. But he was always caring in his own way when it came to you. It's why you loved him after all. Because you usually knew that he loved you, too.

For a few moments, the atmosphere between the two of you felt awkwardly tense, both of you unsure how to interact with each other. The mostly blonde wing spiker breathed out a sigh of relief when you fully leaned into his chest once he stood upright, resting your head against his shoulder. A bit of maneuvering through the front door eventually lead to Kyoutani passing through the hallway and taking you to your room, where he was gently lowering you down on the bed.

It was a now or never kind of situation. For the both of you. While Kentarou was trying to find out where to begin his apology, he took a few steps back in case you wanted space until everything was cleared up.

You unconsciously helped him making a decision by impulsively grasping onto his shirt the moment he started to withdraw, stopping him in his retreating movement. Kentarou saw your lower lips wobbling, teary eyes looking up at him pleadingly.

''Please stay,'' you say weakly, which is enough for him to throw the whole thinking process away and simply sit down next to you, intertwining both your hands. ''I'm staying. I'm not leaving. Not now nor this relationship if you still want...an ''us''. The wing spiker took a deep, shuttering breath. '' I'm sorry, Y/N…'' he finally manages to say, honey eyes locked onto your linked your hands. ''I have been fucking stupid all week. 've been a fucking terrible boyfriend, the worst to ever exist.''

As if to encourage him...to show your boyfriend that his apology was not for nothing, you shuffled around until the last bit of distance between the two of you was closed. You hum, acknowledging his words while leaning your head on his shoulder.

''I didn't think you're cheating or something, …'' Kyoutani immediately assures you. There was no way he would allow you to think that he would accuse you of something like this. ''I had no reason to be jealous, but I was insecure. Let it get the best of me. Despite our promise to communicate, I was sulking. 't was easier. I'll do whatever the fuck you want for you to not give up yet…'' he says, taking his time with every sentence.

With a sigh, you squeeze his hand. ''It will probably take a lot of cuddling and attention from you...'' you say thoughtfully ''...but I forgive you…if you promise to not do this again…'' you murmur, tilting your head upward to press a chaste kiss to his jaw. ''Otherwise, I'll accept Iwaizumi-san's offer to get your thinking process restarted.'' For a moment, your voice had its usual joking edge. But you knew talking out everything was necessary. ''But, in all honesty, 'Tarou....please, never do this again. I am honest. I will not endure this a second time. When you tell me that you need a day or two for yourself then that is totally fine. If you feel yourself giving into whatever insecurity, talk to me about it. I am sure there will be an explanation or a solution but don't leave me in the dark. Don't treat me like that. I love you. Only you and no one else. But the time love can withstand straight-up ignorance by your partner is limited.''

Slowly, your boyfriend nodded, squeezing your hand to tell you that he understood. You would probably cling to him for a while but were sure that he would survive the extra closeness. Not even half a second later, his head leans onto yours cautiously.

''…and try being nicer to Oikawa-san, Tarou, he hasn't done anything to you.'' You add humorously before small giggles started to erupt from your lips. ''Also...Baby…'' you start, being interrupted by choked-up hiccups and giggles. By using your nickname for him, you take away another persistent fear of his. What he does not miss, however, is how you wince in pain before you continue, ''…who helped you put this into words? I mean…I loved it, but…,'' You leave unsaid that words usually are not his strong fort.

Biting back a smile, he frowns, huffs, and puffs…, but the way you are looking up at him, eyes shining with relief and adoration, allows him to admit defeat. He sighs ''…it's how Yahaba said I should say it…'' It usually would be an odd enough statement to make you throw yourself all over him with laugher. As a slight replacement, you squeeze his hand a bit, still shaking with suppressed laughter. ''I promise…that I will talk to you. Can't promise the Shittykawa part.'' Another soft chuckle leaves your lips before you look up at him again. ''I hope you try nonetheless. You should not let Iwaizumi-san hear you calling Oikawa-san that, though, I don't think this would turn out well for you…so...maybe stop this at least.'' Kentarou rolls his eyes at you, but in the end, he nods.

You wait for another second to clearly distinguish the two topics before you continue. ''…Thank you…for coming and finally speaking with me instead of break-'' A hand on your lips muffles your words.

''Don't say these words. I'd never break up with you,'' Kentarou grumbles, a light, uncharacteristic light pink settling on his cheeks. You stick your tongue out, which leads to him taking his hand off of your face with a surprised noise, rather dumbfounded that you had licked his hand. It gives you the chance to lean up and finally press your lips against his. ''I'm not leaving you either,'' you murmur, feeling his lips twitch upwards slightly. You decide to leave the teasing for another day.

Moving back into your previous position was enough of a hassle to hiss in pain. It brought back Kyoutani's awareness of the second problem at hand. ''What did happen to you?'' Kyoutani asks in an attempt to tamper down the excited, happy beating of his heart.

''Oh, this...uh, when I answered your text, I got driven over by a dude on a bicycle,'' you casually drop. It was kind of entertaining to watch his expressions change at an unequaled pace while processing your words. In the end, it settled into something akin to passive-aggressive worry. The way he was immediately fretting over you while cursing and cussing out the bicycle dude was his own way of caring. As you watch him retrieving the food your mother bought, while mumbling about how you're a dumbass for not paying attention to your surroundings, how he'd come over every day until you could go to school again to bring and teach you the stuff you would miss and how he would fucking murder the bicycle idiot if he ever finds out who dared to drive you over, you can't help the smile forming on your lips.

Once again, you are proven that loving him - while occasionally troublesome and demanding - was everything but wrong.

[rocorambles]

Two Wrongs Equal a Right

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader

Prompt: Eavesdropping

Summary: Eavesdropping isn’t right, but maybe...just maybe sometimes the end justifies the means

A/N: This is for the Anylisum’s SFW collab. Masterlist can be found here. Enjoy!

You giggle, laying your head on Tsu’s shoulder as you catch your breath from the impromptu dance party happening in the dorm room led by no other than Mina. You love the boys, but this is nice, hanging out with just the girls, chatting about fashion and makeup, doing face masks and braiding hair, pretending you’re just normal high school girls and not heroes in training. The boys had sulked, pouting and complaining about why all of you couldn’t hang out together like you always do. But all of you had just smiled and cheekily waved as you locked the dorm room shut behind you.

They’ll be fine. You’re sure they’ll find something to bond over themselves and you laugh at the thought of them doing some impromptu sparring or shouting at each other over a video game.

Yes, they’ll be just fine doing something normal high school boys do. Definitely not quietly crowding around the other side of the dorm door, trying to eavesdrop on what all of you are saying and doing like they’re doing right now.

The boys of class 1-A aren’t nearly as subtle as they think they are accidentally banging foreheads and elbowing each other to try and press their ears against the vertical surface. But luckily for them the combination of the music and your voices drown out their scuffling and they eagerly listen in, curiosity keeping their attention rooted to the commotion on the other side of the barrier.

“That’s not fair. I want to dance too!”

“Shut up, Aoyama! They’re going to hear you.”

The hushed bickering continues as the boys continue to subtly bop their head to the music, trying to make out the snippets of conversation between the rhythmic beat and laughter. But they all freeze, even attempting to quiet down their breathing as the music finally stops.

Is the night over? Do they need to make a run for it before the door opens and they’re caught red handed?

Their questions are answered when after some scuffling and movement the girls resume talking and there’s a palpable sense of relief as the boys relax, leaning in once more to decipher what’s being said.

What girls night would be complete without boy talk? You all knew this topic was bound to come up in this safe all-female haven, but there’s still a tittering of nervous and shy giggles when Ashido brings up the topic with a mischievous grin plastered across her face.

It takes some prodding and some patience, but to no one’s surprise Uraraka is the first to speak up and you all smile knowingly when she begins to ramble on and on about Deku, how much she respects him, how observant he is, how hardworking he is…

“We get it. You like Deku! Seriously it would be shocking if you two didn’t eventually start dating.”

“Think about how cute that would be! A romantic hero couple fighting villains and saving the world together.”

Uraraka’s face is so red you think she might burst, but you hide a smile at the fact that there isn’t even a hint or sound of denial from her as she accepts the good-natured teasing. Unknown to all of you, Deku’s face matches Urarka’s extreme shade of red and the boys smile and nudge him playfully, waggling their eyebrows teasingly.

The light-hearted banter has broken the ice and Momo is the next one to open up, demurely looking at the ground and swiping a stray bang behind her ear as she quietly praises Todoroki for his amazing skills and how rapidly he’s learned and improved during his time at U.A. But what she isn’t expecting is the outpouring of support she herself receives from all the girls about how smart and resourceful she is and how quick on her feet she is. And Todoroki silently nods his head in affirmation of the deserved recognition she receives.

One by one everyone shares their thoughts on their male counterparts, but it’s Ashido who makes everyone burst into laughter once more when she practically screams her approval of Kaminari and Kirishima and how cool and manly they can be, imitating their signature moves as best as she can to everyone’s amusement.

However it doesn’t go unnoticed how Bakugo’s name isn’t brought up and it just seems right to bring him into the conversation if the other two musketeers are being discussed. There’s thoughtful pondering and the girls quiet down as they think of their blonde classmate.

“He’s smart and talented.”

“He’s pretty good looking.”

But there’s an almost unanimous vote that his temper is a little bit...scary. Almost.

The boys try their hardest to stifle their howls of laughter as Bakugo begins to deeply scowl, looking like he’s ready to storm away. But everyone shuts up, eyes going wide when your voice travels through the air.

“I actually think his attitude is kind of cute. He’s like an angry chihuahua. All bark, no bite.”

There’s silence as everyone on both sides of the door processes your words, even Bakugo looks uncharacteristically stunned. And then there’s chaos as the girls begin to loudly question your sanity and the boys hold back a raging Bakugo who’s seconds away from kicking down the door and confronting you.

Needless to say there is no more eavesdropping done that night as it takes the entire male population of 1-A to wrestle Bakugo away and safely back to his dorm room.

Cute? CUTE?

Bakugo can’t remember the last time anyone has called him that damned word, if anyone ever has. Not even his own mother has called him anything remotely as nauseatingly endearing as that recently. There’s nothing about him that’s cute. He’s not cute. He HATES anything cute. Yet as he’s barricaded in his room and forced to mull over your words in solitude, it’s not pure rage and indignation that fills him to his own surprise.

He’s not sure exactly what he’s feeling if he’s honest and that only pisses him off more. Anger is something he knows and holds close. But this...this strange, disgusting, fluttering feeling in his stomach? He doesn’t know what that is and he grumpily forces himself to sleep, to leave all these stupid thoughts and feelings behind him. Tomorrow will be just another day of class and you’ll just be another classmate he’s forced to tolerate as he focuses on becoming a hero.

Except tomorrow does come and you aren’t just another nobody like you were before.

Unlike before where he barely even noticed your presence and walked past you like you were nonexistent, too focused on perfecting his moves, he can’t stop being aware of you. He finds himself watching you without even meaning to, observing your movements, the use of your quirk…

“Kacchan, watch out!”

Turns out even when he’s entranced by you, Deku’s damn annoying voice is enough to drag him out of his funk and he narrowly misses the debris about to rain down on him.

“What’s up, Bakugo? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you distracted-”

“I’m not distracted!”

He is distracted and he can feel his short fuse nearing its limit with every uncharacteristic stumble and sloppy movement as he can’t tear his eyes from you. And when Aizawa-sensei awkwardly tells him to maybe consider sitting out a bit until his head is clear he loses it.

Under all the rage, common sense tells him this isn’t your fault, that he’s wrongly directing his ire at you. But Bakugo clings onto his temper, that fire inside of him that fuels most of his decisions as he storms towards you and shouts at you to spar with him.

He knows he’s being too hard on you, punching and kicking you harder than he even goes against Kirishima and his hardening quirk. And he even feels a pang of guilt when he sees you wince when his fist grazes you as you try to dodge. But you don’t tell him to stop, just looking at him with determined, focused eyes holding a shocking amount of trust that he won’t take it too far and actually harm you despite how his irritation is almost visible.

It’s the same look stupid Deku looks at him with, but he doesn’t feel that familiar buildup of anger rising inside of him. Instead he feels that same strange fluttering feeling deep inside of him and his heart is racing more than it should be for the amount he’s worked out today. It’s all so...confusing and to everyone’s shock, it’s Bakugo who abruptly ends your weird impromptu spar with a scoff, shoving his hands in his pocket as he saunters away, trademark scowl on his face.

That’s only the beginning of Bakugo’s strange behavior and everyone watches anxiously as the angry blonde borderline begins to bully you on a constant basis, practically hovering next to you from the moment you leave your dorm room to the minute you go to sleep at night, growling, shouting, and even just glaring at you. But no one steps in, curious about how things will play out when they see how unbothered you are by your new volatile shadow.

Bakugo doesn’t know what reaction he expected of you. Maybe a slight hint of fear? At least some respect? But he certainly wasn’t expecting how calmly you accept your new fate, how casually you interact with him.

He’s forced to silently blink in shock as his jaw rapidly works to chew the fried egg you’ve stuffed in his mouth when he angrily tells you to sit somewhere else, deciding he wants your seat despite the bounty of empty chairs surrounding the both of you in the cafeteria. (He ends up just grumpily sitting in the available spot next to you when he finally swallows, both of you quietly munching on your breakfast together.)

But although your exchanges start off fairly one-sided with Bakugo usually trying to incite some reaction from you, everyone watches in amusement when you begin to meet him halfway. The blonde is mouthing off at you about something or another during sparring exercises which has become a typical background noise to the class by now, but everyone, including Aizawa-sensei stops in their tracks when your voice interrupts Bakugo’s rant.

“Maybe you’d be able to perfect your new technique if you spent more time practicing and less time barking at me.”

There’s a playful smirk on your face as you utter those fighting words and Aizawa wonders if today is the day he’ll have to prevent Bakugo from committing a truly villainous event. But even his jaw drops when all Bakugo does is scoff at your statement, barking at you to follow him to both your preferred area of the training grounds to resume practicing together.

Both of you look almost...friendly, exchanging punches and kicks, no heat behind Bakugo’s snarky comments, a smile on your face when you give it to him right back verbally. The upperclassmen and the pro-hero faculty watch in amused fondness as overtime Bakugo’s glowering and barking lulls down to a muted calm grumpiness as he continues to trail beside you. He’s not too different than a tamed feral kitten (not that any of them would voice that thought aloud and risk being blasted to pieces).

And as time continues on, everyone gets used to the fact that the two of you seem joined at the hip. You’re just...always together in a strange amicable friendship? Partnership? Relationship? No one knows how to exactly describe it and maybe that’s what finally leads to you overhearing an interesting conversation one morning in the dorms.

You yawn as you make your way to the common room to see who else is up, but you pause before you turn the corner from your hallway when you hear Kirishima mention your name.

“So what’s going on between the two of you. Are you dating?”

You don’t even have to peek around the bend to know who he’s talking to and your face heats up, ears perking up in anxious curiosity as you wait for Bakugo’s response. Realistically, you know you shouldn’t expect much. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less when you wait for Bakugo to shut Kirishima’s well-meaning thought down with a rude “why would I go out with that nobody” or some similar derogatory comment aimed at the idea of dating you or anyone for that matter.

Yet there’s only silence and a secret smile spreads across your face when all Bakugo finally responds with is a quiet scoff and a “it’s none of your business”.

“That’s not a no!”

“Shut up!”

Your heart is pounding as hope blossoms inside of it and you slowly countdown from ten, taking deep breaths to calm yourself down, schooling your face into as neutral an expression as possible. When your excess giddy energy is under some semblance of control, you make your presence known, bidding good morning to both boys and teasingly ruffling Bakugo’s spiky hair in a more affectionate version of a noogie. And Kirishima is left with a gaping jaw as he watches Bakugo merely roll his eyes at your antics and grunt here and there in response to your rambling as the two of you make your way to the cafeteria for breakfast together.

[cloudninetonine]

A past that still haunts me

A/N: Hey guys, it's me (ya boi) I'm back with my still current hyper fixation Genshin Impact and a vent fic because I've been really stressed and well, it's hard living in my house :) It's a hurt/comfort fic because they always get to me and I needed to make something for myself

I am willing to do aftermath where the boys confront the abuser or do scenario but with different characters

Synopsis: You’re not a damsel in distress, you never have been and you never will be, but, well, sometimes you need a hero to rely on and that’s okay

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Zhongli and Childe

Warnings: Hints to past abuse, confrontation of abuser, violence, mentions of blood, threats, foul language

It had meant to be like any other menial day of an adventurer: sign in with Katheryne, complete your commissions, sign out with Katheryne with your payments - done and dusted.

But that wasn’t how it went, no, far from it - archons, so damn far from it.

“Thank you once again, (Name)” Katheryne’s smile was kind like usual, holding that familiar feeling of gratitude as she handed over your remission within a marked package, hand returning to the desk’s polished surface once you had taken it graciously, sending her a beaming grin back. “The Guild really appreciates your work ethic when it comes to the Ruin machines, it’s hard to come across adventurers who want to handle them anymore”

You sent her a shrug as you placed away the box “Can’t blame them really, they’re a hard bunch to handle- I was terrified of them when I first started too, but I had my vision to help me out, a lot of these folk only use there pure determination to eradicate them, gotta admire that!”

She laughed along with you politely “Have a good evening, (Name), I’ll see you again tomorrow?”

“Of course you will!” You backpedalled away from the guild reception, throwing the woman a polite double fingered salute as you did “Ad astra abyssoque as they say, my fair lady!”

She parrotted back her usual phrase before disappearing into the building, you walking further down the path of the city for your final activity for that day.

Of course, you didn’t reach that far, after all, it wasn’t that menial day you had expected, that you had wanted. Life was cruel sometimes, so incredibly cruel for no justified reason just for the sake of it all and you wished, archons, you wished you could rewind the clock and stop yourself from bumping into the body, to save yourself from all the repressed trauma bursting forth like a flurry of butterflies, well, more like moths, disgusting, ungodly, monster moths that aimed straight for the face.

“Sorry!” You yelped, too preoccupied with gathering your pocketwatch you had dropped in the stumble to see who it had been, after all, you were on a schedule and you didn’t want to be-

“(Name)?”

...late.

All of a sudden, time didn’t seem to exist, or maybe it was moving way too slowly from that horrid spike of adrenaline that shot into your bloodstream as soon as the voice registered.

You hoped to the Archons that it wasn’t, that it couldn’t, but did the gods hear your prayers?

“Oh Archons, it is you! It’s been such a long time!”

Of course, they did, they just didn’t care to listen. Ignoring the cries of your people were in fashion to them these days.

They stood there with a smile so excited it almost seemed to tear their face in half, with eyes sparkling with recognition after so many years away from them, they opened their arms welcoming you into their embrace like it was something just so normal for the two of you like you would come bounding to them like a lost puppy who had finally found their master.

The fear of your abuser dwarfed in comparison the pure feral rage and loathing to think that they even deserved to be breathing in the same space as you.

People were looking, of course, they were looking, you knew what they were doing, being bright and jovial, bringing others attention towards you both so that whatever scene you caused would be your fault like you were the bad guy. It was old tactics, of course, you wouldn’t dare do anything when you were younger, you’d just push through it, but this wasn’t old times, this wasn’t younger you, scared, smaller you afraid them, this was you now, a warrior, unwavering in battle, a person who smiled in the face of danger, who laughed at the pitiful fights that 2- no- 4 abyss mages brought to you!

To hell what other people thought, you’d stomp their head into the cobblestone if they had so much as poked you.

“Come here and give me a-”

You took a step back, mustering the deadliest face you could, but you wavered, it was only natural, no matter how much you could try to hype yourself up, this person was your first true experience of real-life nightmares, the first person to bring you true pain, no matter how many ruin guards, hunters, millachurls, mages- anything you faced, nothing could prepare you to face your first fear:

The fear of your older sibling.

“If you fucking touch me I’ll stab you-” The growl cracked nearing the end, you were always an angry crier but you were not about to fall back to this- this monster. “In front of all these people, I won’t hesitate”

Their face dropped followed by your stomach, though, the food you had for lunch sure did feel its way up your gullet.

“What’s with your language? We haven’t seen each other in four years and this is how you treat me? Your older sibling?” They laughed in disbelief because onlookers would think they were shocked, I mean, how could you speak to family like that? But they didn’t know, they didn’t know the words they had told you, the insults, the threats, those tight grabs, those beatings- they didn’t know, so they obviously didn’t know that the shock came from the fact that you had stood up to them.

You licked your lips to get rid of the dryness, but the problem you faced was that your mouth had dried out along with them, as did your throat.

Don’t let them turn this on you, don’t let them get the upper hand, you were better than them, so much better.

“You’re not my fucking sibling” You spat, feeling the air vibrate around you, a sudden shine from your cloak hinted you to the cause “You haven’t been for a long time, don’t fucking try that shit with me”

There it was, that familiar enraged spark, that look of hatred on their face, the thing that warned you about what you said had been the right thing to set them off, that they were just as easily triggered by the smallest act of rebellion just like when you were kids.

Of course, they hadn’t changed.

Evil never did.

They took a step forward but you didn’t back off, just hardened your resolve as they leaned in menacingly, as though their stupid little intimidation tactic still worked after all these years.

You told yourself it didn’t but you knew deep down that wasn’t completely true.

“Don’t speak to me like that, (Name)” Facade gone, they showed you what they really were, what they were really like after all, “Don’t you ever speak to me like that, you show me fucking respect”

Respect?

RESPECT!?

Oh Archons, you were angry, no, seething from the thought that they ever deserved respect.

That pathetic piece of shit, that gruelling pleb, mere gum on the bottom of your damn shoe-

You’d kill them, right here, right now.

You felt the familiar materialisation begin to form in your hand when another voice called out, a familiar loving one that nearly made your throat swell from relief.

“(Name)?”

Diluc

He could sense the tension. Of course, he could sense the tension, Diluc had faced this tension so many times before, he was practically the one that owned such a vibe anytime Kaeya even breathed near him for a second longer than necessary.

But being the one to witness it, to see you, the usual awkward, goofy sweetheart stare at another with such overbearing malice made him uneasy, caused his stomach to churn in ways he didn’t like, set him off in a way that was only reserved for the most chilling on moments.

Diluc wondered what exactly this stranger had done to warrant such a reaction from you.

“(Name)?” The redhead called, glancing around the many citizens of Mondstadt that watched the exchange with intrigue, guard and worry, eyes focused on the scene of this foreign stranger and fuming you, hand poised by your side with weapon particles dancing on your palm.

When Diluc finally made it over, his form seemed to curl protectively around you, hand landing on the small of your back delicately while keeping face with the person, eyes narrowed dangerously but still holding an air of civilness.

A true gentleman, even when you were close to merking some rando.

“Is there a problem?”

The stranger straightened immediately, backing up a few steps with their hands up in defence, sending Diluc a charming smile that the man could see through crystal clear.

“No problem, no problem at all” They glanced back at you, seemingly friendly despite his partner’s obvious ill intent that radiated off you in waves “Isn’t that right, (Name)?”

Diluc saw you tense up once again, the buzz from your Vision rising in volume with your obvious anger as you tightened your first, ready to just screw your weapon and go for the throat.

“If that is the case” The noble’s hand softly pressed against your back, gently but coaxing, knowing that conflict in the middle of the town centre would just bring the knights to meddle in affairs that they had no business attending “Then we shall be going”

“There’s no need to leave, after all, my sibling and I were just chatting”

He paused, shouldering a questioning glance your way but at the sight of your unruly expression, he pushed down his enquiries and once again began coaxing you away from the scene. Angel’s Share had already been open for a while, meaning the usual folk would already be settled in, but the storage room was sure to be a good place to chat and to calm you down, all he needed to do was get you away.

“We already had plans” The side glance had the stranger- your sibling, biting their tongue, brows furrowing in a known annoyance as the two of you began your way towards the pub, you still vibrating in anger. “Good day to you”

The two of you had made it a few feet when they called out once again “Don’t worry, (Name), I’ll see you again real soon”

Diluc’s arm tightened around you faster than you could react, tugging you away quickly “Diluc-”

“No, (Name)”

“Stay out-”

“Not here” Sharing a look, he softened at the shine in your eyes. “You’ll just attract the knights' attention”

You didn’t care, no, not one bit. If the knights had dared to interfere at that moment, they too would have been caught up in your blinded revenge, thrown aside or slashed down without single care just to finally eradicate the bane of your existence and you didn’t care about what consequences you brought about, you just didn’t and you made sure to tell Diluc that, as soon as you had the privacy of Angel’s Share’s storeroom, pacing up and down while he stood off to the side against the wall, watching silently.

“You had no right to get in my way!” You snapped, voice shaking from the pure emotions you were releasing “I finally had my chance, I was finally going to do it! They deserve to end by my hand, by my decision, after the years of torture they put me through! They deserved it! And you got in my way! How could you get in my way! I-”

Pushing off the wall, he slowly advanced towards you, carefully, hands out like he was approaching a wounded animal.

“I understand you’re upset-”

“I’m not upset!” You cried at him, stopping mid-step before dropping your head and tightly, grabbing your hair in your hands “I’m not upset! I’m angry! I’m so fucking angry! And I deserve to be fucking angry! I-”

The sob ripped through your throat despite you trying to hold it back, tears finally gathering in your eyes and rapidly falling down your cheeks “You should have let me kill them! I should have had the chance to rid the world of their evil! It’s not fair! It’s not- it’s not fair, I-”

You didn’t bother to fight him when his arms finally wrapped around you, just fell against him as you wept. The pent up rage, fear and sadness from years of repression taking its toll as you cried, your partner whispering sweet words as he raked his hand through your hair gently and leaned his head against yours.

“I’m sorry” His hand held your cheek fondly, ruby red staring back into your own eyes with a softness that made you melt “I didn’t know this meant so much to you, but if you’re willing to tell me, I’ll listen. I’ll always listen”

With another choked sob, you leaned into his hold “Please just hold me for now”

And he did just that.

Kaeya

The captain had promised to meet you at his office, a simple task really but with the lingering presence of Jean and the words ‘There’s so much work that needs to be done’ leaving her lips he bolted, hoping to catch you by the Guild and drag you to Angel Share for your date. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help her, it was just he had already promised you this night and Eula could have always taken his place with paperwork, her threat of “vengeance” as she liked to call it could wait for another day.

It was also due to the fact he had no intentions of filing any paperwork for as long as he could avoid it, but that was his secret to be kept.

Being the perspective man he was, he could tell straight away he had walked into something tense, surveying the surrounding people of Mondstadt who looked on in concern, the unbridled rage upon your face, the obviously intimidating lean that the stranger held over you- something was wrong and he knew he had to put a stop to it.

“(Name)?” You glanced for a single moment before your furious glare had returned to the stranger, another flag waving right in his face as he approached, “My dear? Who might this be?”

Before you could snap, lip curling in disgust, the stranger stood back to their full height, switching quickly with a fake charming smile that practically mirrored his own, holding out their hand towards him “(S/N) (Last), (Name)’s older sibling. it’s nice to meet you”

Kaeya’s smile widened and despite the glare from you that was now focused on him, he shook your sibling's hand in-kind “Kaeya Alberich, (Name)’s partner-”

He made sure to tighten his grip with his last words “And Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius”

Successfully, as he always was, Kaeya held back the smug, mocking grin that itched to climb onto his face when the neck of your sibling bobbed nervously, forehead reflecting the afternoon light as sweat gathered on their brow.

The man hadn’t obviously threatened them, surely, Kaeya was smarter than that, but then again, he could still present himself as a threat, a good one and well, his title was a menacing one when it came to the right moment. ‘Try anything and not only do I have the authority to kick your arse but the power to put you in a place many didn’t dare even step’ shortened into an innocent sentence with only 8 words.

“Cavalry Captain? That’s quite impressive” They laughed off, tugging away their hand awkwardly when Kaeya continued to keep a firm grip, his present eye focused solely on your siblings face. They glanced over to you “Quite an achievement for you, aye (Name)?”

You growled, “I’ll show you an achievement-”

Kaeya’s arm had wrapped around your waist not a second later, tugging you tighter to his side as the two of you turned, the man throwing your sibling a smile over his shoulder.

“As nice as it was to meet you, (S/B), we must be going”

And then without another word Kaeya dragged you away, heading in the direction of your home instead of Angel Share tavern, feeling your pure, unfiltered anger the whole way along with the citizens as they parted ways, rushing off from your rage.

It was only when you had returned to the sanctuary of your abode did you snap, jerking away from your boyfriend with angered strides and beginning your seething lecture towards him, moving up and down through the living room while he ventured off into the kitchen, grabbing 2 glasses and a bottle of wine.

“How dare you Kaeya! How fucking dare you! Do you have any idea what you were doing back there!? What was even happening back there!? So much for being the most observant man in Mondstadt because you seemed pretty dense to me the whole fucking time!” Your hands raked through your hair as you yelled, trying so hard to hold back the tears “I didn’t need your damn help, Kaeya! Nor did I fucking want it! Know to stay out of someone's business when it isn’t wanted!”

Logically you knew what he had done, you were smart like that and you knew Kaeya long enough to know what he was doing but your rage, fear and sadness blocked out everything in that moment, made you blind to reality, made you only think irrationally and Kaeya didn’t blame you for that. He could never blame you for that.

Though, it did hurt him to see you in this state.

“Wine?”

You gawked at him for a moment, staring at him with shock and confusion as he held out a wine glass towards you, another held in his other hand and a sweet smile plastered on his face, before your moment morphed into rage, grabbing the drink from his hand and tossing it towards the wall, the red wine splattering over the wallpaper and glass shards falling to the floor.

“Well, that was a waste-”

“Do you think I’m an idiot, Kaeya!?” You cried, not even bothering to hold back anymore as the tears fell and your voice cracked, hand pointing accusingly in his face “Is this some kind of joke to you!? Huh!? Am I a fool in your eyes!? Some sort of blubbering idiot!? Why must you- why do you-”

The second glass was placed on the dresser by you both, Kaeya’s hand coming to hold your cheek fondly while the other came to grab your hand that dangled in the air, still poised at him “I don’t think you're either of those, my dear, in fact, I think you’re one of the brightest in the whole of Teyvat, nevermind Mondstadt”

You hiccuped “Then why-”

Brushing away the wetness from your cheek, he brought your hand to his mouth to place a fond kiss on your palm “Because you mustn’t cry, (Name), don’t waste your tears on someone like them”

“I’m not crying, I’m-”

He shushed you gently and you finally relaxed, falling into his embrace with a heavy heart “-I’m not, I swear-”

Within the familiarity of your home, you wept in his arms, exhausted from the whirlwind of emotions and the scenes that had transpired that day, ready to just curl into yourself and try to block the flooding memories of history. Although, having Kaeya at that moment helped more than he could ever know, having him to rely on made it all so much easier to cope with that day.

“Tell me what ails you and I’ll listen” Brushing back some hair, he pressed a kiss to your head.

“Can..can we just stay like this for a while?”

“Of course, my dear”

Zhongli

He had sensed the incoming danger like it had been revealed in some sort of premonition. Maybe it had been a skill he had acquired after his long, eventful life, maybe it was his connection to Liyue and his citizens, but for some reason, as he sat before Iron Tongue Tian as the man recalled his tales of ancient Liyue like usual, Zhongli knew that the crowd that was forming around Wamin Restaurant had something that he need urgently attend, especially when even Tian paused his story to glance around the corner of the restaurant building to see the commotion.

When the archon had finally borne witness to the scene, he paused within the crowd, surveying the surroundings carefully. You were the centre of attention, along with another stranger, both glaring at one another with anger and disgust, though your own anger seemed to double compared to the other’s, seeing as your weapon was slowly materialising in your grip. Zhongli could also see Guild Master Lan making her way down the steps leading to the Guild reception, a worried expression on her face glancing between you and the approaching Millelith.

Zhongli made his decision, politely pushing through the crowd until he had finally made it by your side, hand being placed gently on your arm “(Name)?”

Both you and the stranger glanced at him, but he paid no mind to them, only held eye contact with you when Lan appeared by your other side, glaring at the stranger with a hardened gaze.

“Are you harassing my guild member?”

Before the stranger could respond, the Millelith had also popped in, glancing between you and them “Is there a problem?”

Zhongli had taken up your view when Lan began her take, she had borne witness for much longer than he had of course and he was certain that you were in no state to talk to the guards. Your eyes were glazed with hatred, pupils pinpricks in a sea of (E/C) and your hands were shaking, balled into fists.

If anything, he needed to try and calm you down first.

“Get the hell out of my way, Zhongli” Your teeth ground together, words shaking with anger “Don’t push yourself into my business”

“I’m sorry, my love, but I can’t do that” He tried brushing your cheek but you jerked away, glaring at his hand before glaring back at him, in no mood to be coddled “I don’t want you to do something you’d regret”

“Trust me, I won’t regret this one bit”

Zhongli held his tongue for the question that almost rolled out, knowing now wasn’t the time for inquiries when the stranger’s voice rang out, condescending and snarky as they addressed you.

“Still need people to protect you, aye (Name)? Of course, you’re still the same pathetic bitch from years ago”

You were lucky for your reputation around Liyue, for the picture of the kind and caring adventurer that had swept through the town from your years of living here because had it not been for that, you pushing aside your boyfriend and materialising your weapon to aim it at your sibling’s throat would have had you in cuffs that instant.

Lan grabbed you, tugging you away as you screamed “I’ll show you pathetic you fucker! Let me go!”

The Millelith didn’t wait to drag your sibling away, much to their cries of dismay, one sending Lan a nod while you continued to fight against her, crying out in frustration.

“Kid, you have to calm down-”

“Calm down!? No! Get the hell off me!”

Zhongli watched as you finally broke away, huffing and puffing up a storm before glancing amongst the crowd, staring at their worried and concerned faces, your own eyes tearing up before you looked away pushing past the crowd to find somewhere to be alone.

When Lan went to call out for you, Zhongli raised his hand, the two sharing a look before the archon made his way after you, his longer legs keeping a steady pace to which he could catch up to you, just beyond the bridge that led into Liyue Harbour. There were no people where you stood, just the lush green plants and great mountains of nature, a perfect place for you to let out your frustration without the prying eyes of the citizens.

“(Name)-”

“Leave me alone!” You cried, curling into yourself with your back turned to him “I don’t want you here, Zhongli! Nor did I want you back there! I didn’t need your or anyone else's help!”

You knew he was here from a place of concern, and deep down you begged that your words didn’t harm him in any way, but currently, you didn’t care, you didn’t want to care, you just wanted to be numb, numb to the flashbacks of your horrid past and numb to the feelings that were dragged along with them.

“My love, please, return with me to our home, I will brew some calming tea-”

“Tea? Tea!? Does it look like I want any fucking tea?! I couldn’t care any less about some fucking tea, Zhongli!” Spinning around on your heels, you scowled at him, not bothering to hide your rushing tears “Don’t you get it!? I want to be left alone, I-”

Two gloved hands gently encased your face, your angered expression morphing into one of shock as your partner stared down at you with glowing eyes filled with a deep-rooted love, affection, worry and so much more that you couldn’t put into mere mortal words. At that moment, everything felt as if it had melted away, only you and him were in this world, nothing else, just the two of you.

And you felt as though your heart had been lifted from the pressures of this life.

“I do not think it is best for you to be left alone” His baritone voice was always so calming, so serene and in your sane moment, you finally felt its effects “I wish to stay with you, so please, let me stay”

With a whimper, you grabbed onto his forearms and leaned your face into his hands, tears continuing to fall as your eyes fluttered shut “Okay…”

“They have hurt you deeply, haven’t they?”

Hesitantly, you nodded.

“Would you be so kind as to tell me the details?”

“I-...” Sharing eye contact once again, you whispered “Can- can you just...hold me for now? Please”

Moving his hands from your face, he engulfed you in his arms, leaning his head against yours “Of course”

Childe

The Harbinger had just left the Northland Bank, hell, he was just about to make his way down the spiral staircase but when hearing the commotion, he paused, something in his gut telling him to check just before and he was glad he did.

Glancing over the elevated walkway, he felt a fiery pit roar in the depths of his stomach, eyes narrowing dangerously at the scene; you were snarling in some other person’s face, their own face nothing short of disgust and a crowd that only seemed to grow by the minute.

Who the hell did this person think they were? Did they even know who you were? To stand so close to you, with a look of threat on their face like you weren’t about to kick their arse? Like he wasn’t about to kick their arse? How did this insignificant speck of dross not know your connections with him, the 11th Harbinger? Or did he know and was just trying his luck?

“Seems like someone has a death wish” And a death wish they had indeed.

Ignoring the perplexed glance from his subordinate stationed outside the building's entrance, Childe made his way down the steps, murderous look stitched on the whole way to the circle of civilians, the mass parting ways for the man that was Tartaglia and continuing to watch the moment in silence.

“Who the hell are you-” You both turned towards him, you in shock while the stranger stared in confusion until Childe’s hand wrapped around their collar, tugging them closer to look down at them with a deep-rooted disgust “-And why the hell are you harassing my partner?”

They fought against him, obviously, they did, but the surprise came when you saddled up next to him, grabbing his arm “Stay out of this, Tartaglia”

What? It hadn't been your request, no, you were always one to finish your whole fights you weren't "A damsel in distress after all!" no, you were so much more, so much greater but that look on your face, murderous and downright cruel- he just couldn't believe his ears.

Childe stared at you in shock while the stranger struggled, throwing him a dirty look in their attempts “Yeah, this is between my sibling and I”

Childe straightened in surprise, feeling embarrassment flood his system. Had he seriously just grabbed and threatened his lover’s family member? Oh, Archons, his judgement had been clouded by anger at the look of the scene, I mean, why would your sibling look at you that way-

“But it’s really no surprise that you still need to be babied, (Name), how shameful”

His eyes widened but not a moment later had you tackled your sibling, the crowd crying out in alarm as you threw back your fist and crushed their nose under the weight of your punch. “I’ll show you fucking shameful, bastard!”

There was shouting and a glance showed the oncoming Millelith marching towards the circle.

Being Fatui always did garner the attention of the guards nowadays, especially for him, who had tried to lure out the attention of their Archon by summoning an ancient god that nearly drowned the entirety of the harbour, so it was no surprise that they seemed to hurry in the pursuit when they noticed his appearance at the scene. However, lucky for him, your reputation as a great adventurer preceded you and throughout Liyue you were seen as a trusted and well-liked individual, meaning whatever trouble you got in, containing his meddling or not, was usually waved away due to the trust of the people.

So, without another thought, Childe tugged you off of your bloodied sibling and held you close, even as you thrashed violently, shouting at him to let you go.

“What is going on here?” A guard called, slamming the hilt of his polearm into the ground as he surveyed the area, eyes landing on the sibling before following the small trail of blood to you, still fighting against your boyfriend with threats falling from your lips “Was there a reason for this brawl? Who started it?”

As your sibling raised themselves on their forearms, they scowled and opened their mouth to respond, only for Childe to put in. “It was them, sir, they were the one that started it, (Name) was merely acting in self-defence”

The Millelith scowled at him, raising a brow and once again looking you over “Is that so?”

He addressed the crowd soon after “Is this what happened?”

And as expected, they all glanced over the sibling, then to you and piped up in agreement. It paid to be a hero, it seemed, the whole harbour returning the favour of years of helping out the community.

“If that’s the case, please come with us” The sibling cried out, anger and fear laced into their voice, trying to argue for their innocence only for the guards to grab them, hauling them away to archons know where while Childe did the same with you, slowly dragging you away from the scene and back into the bank, you screaming and cursing the whole way until you had made it to his office, finally managing to push him off and storming to the opposite side of the room practically seething.

“Who the hell do you think you are, Tartaglia!?” You cried, throwing out your arms in exaggeration “I didn’t need your fucking help! And why the fuck would you pull me off them!? I had them right where I wanted them and you fucking did that! Are you a moron!?”

“You had a sibling” He breathed, watching as you began to pace, muttering in an angered state “And you didn’t tell me”

“-after all these years I finally had the chance to end their pathetic excuse of a life and you just got in my fucking way! I’d waited too long for this moment and you fucking ruined it! How dare you, how fucking dare you-”

“(Name), why didn’t you tell me you had a sibling!?” He cried, walking up to you and grabbing your wrist to stop you “I was ready to kill them right there! And why are you talking about them like this!? They’re your family aren’t they-”

“They are not my fucking family!”

The scream echoed through the room, chilling Childe to the core as you ripped your arm from his grasp, running your hands through your hair before gripping it so tightly it felt close to being ripped from your head. But you didn’t care, no, you couldn’t, you were so angry and you needed something to keep you grounded, to keep yourself from losing yourself and getting lost in those haunting past memories.

The Harbinger felt his chest squeeze painfully as the tears fell down your face, red rimming your eyes and cheeks wet as you sobbed, chest heaving from trying to breathe “Family takes care of you! Family thinks of you in the highest light possible! They love you for who you are and they love you no matter what! That bastard hurt me, made me feel worthless and they refuse to believe they could do no wrong and I hate them! They are the bane of my existence! They are not my fucking family! I hate them, I hate them, I hate them, I-”

Arms were around you instantly, Childe’s face pressed into your hair as you wept, grasping onto the lapels of his suit and shoving your face into his chest to muffle your cries.

“I’m sorry” He whispered, his own eyes shining slightly “I’m sorry, I was being insensitive. Please, don’t cry”

“No, I’m not crying, I promised myself I wouldn’t-” You hiccuped “I wouldn’t waste any more tears on them-”

Then you broke off into more wails, your boyfriend holding you close and letting you continue to cry in his arms, warm and comforting until you were finally reduced to whimpers, leaning into him heavily as the remaining adrenaline in your body began to wear thin when he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Will...will you tell me about it?”

You sniffed “Later...just hold me for now, please, Ajax...”

His arms tightened protectively “Anything for you, my love”

[amysteriousmessenger]

‘How the warmth will melt the ice’ - GE Suit Saeran/Reader fic

Title: How the warmth will melt the ice Pairing: Post-canon GE Suit Saeran/Reader (mainly GN with two uses of she/her) Rating: SFW but references to his in-game actions Word Length: 3.4K Summary: post-GE Suit Saeran hasn't seen you in a while, he's been working on stuff in the headspace. One night, he's the only one awake and he's been doing some thinking while you sleep next to him in the bed. Soft, a bit of hurt/comfort. I'm not an expert on DID so please let me know if I've written or phrased something incorrectly!! <3

- 

Saeran had been in the headspace for quite a while. It’s not that he wasn’t allowed out, he just wasn’t sure he trusted himself enough to ever come out, and most definitely not in the company of other people.  He had seen how happy the ‘New’ Saeran had made you, how he treated you with such care and tenderness and considered your feelings above all else. Saeran didn’t trust himself not to ruin it for all of them, especially given his previous actions. They all held that behaviour against him and he was well aware of that, he held it against himself too. He was too angry at the world, and he hadn’t entirely processed that despite all of the time that he had been away. There had been many times where he had criticised Ray for being weak, yet Ray had already been out several times and Saeran never felt brave enough for it. It had also taken him a while to address that, yes, he was perhaps the weakest one out of them all. He never felt like he was ready to properly face his actions even after he had apologised. After all, he was reminded of it every time he saw you through their eyes. He was there every time they brought you food, every time they held your hand, or pulled you into their arms. He was there for all of it. So, sometimes saying ‘sorry’ just wasn’t enough.

He had tried to take over as the host on a few separate occasions while you were at work or out shopping, with the intention of just existing around the house for a little while, but it never worked out so well. He’d sit there for a few minutes, staring at his hands and at what they had done to you before beginning to resent himself even more. Saeran had seen how his hands could hold you with such sweetness and affection, and yet, when he was the one that controlled them they only seemed to inflict destruction upon people. He’d remember that and immediately let the ‘New’ Saeran take over the body, retreating back into his own self-enforced solitary confinement. You were never to know that he had appeared, he made sure that the others were aware of that. Even when you’d asked about him, if he was still in there, he had asked them to speak of him scarcely. He’d see you again in his own time, if he wanted to. He’d always try to ignore the sadness in your eyes when the others told you that, but he thought it was for the best; he’d only ruin the stupid happiness that you had stumbled your way into with the better parts of him.

The night he saw you again, Saeran was the only one awake when he felt you shudder. He blinked, staring at the ceiling for the first time in God knows how long. He hadn’t experienced the world in quite a while, so it took him a few seconds to gather his thoughts. His first reaction was to complain that he had been woken up at such a time, but he had been trying to work on not jumping to immediate anger when it wasn’t justified. He tried to process his surroundings one at time. He was in bed, next to you. It was dark, probably still night-time, and he could hear the cat downstairs running throughout the corridors. The room smelled faintly of lavender, and he knew that one of the others picked it regularly to help the both of you sleep. He felt you shift. He hadn’t seen you in so long, but even as you laid on the other side of the bed to him, he dared not tilt his head out of fear of waking you. The room was quiet aside from the sound of your breathing, but Saeran stared ahead, rigid. Why had he been the one to wake up? It was not as though there was anything happening that required him in particular, one of the others could have easily woken up instead of him. Someone who was needed.

Saeran moved his eyes to your sleeping form, his breath catching in his throat as you slowly rolled onto your back. He didn’t want to wake you up, but he could have laughed. You were never a graceful sleeper. You had your arms above your head with one leg sticking out from underneath the blanket. Perhaps that meant that you weren’t scared of a monster grabbing your ankle from underneath the bed during the night, maybe you had too much faith in the monster in the first place. He watched you for a few moments, his eyes following each subtle rise and fall of your sleeping chest and wondering how anyone could trust him enough to sleep next to him, to let their guard down so stupidly like that.

Of course, this wasn’t the first time he’d seen you sleeping, but it felt as though it was a lifetime ago that he was watching you through CCTV; something that he could never believe he was actually doing. Something lurched in his stomach at the intrusive memory and he began to spiral like he had done each time he was in control of the body, or thought he was in control of it, anyway. It hurt him, but he didn’t take his eyes off of you. While it wasn’t him providing it, you were happier now. Healthier. There was no one to take away your food or trap you behind closed doors. No one to scream that your eyes were ugly. It had taken him too long to realise that the only reason he thought your eyes was ugly was because he could see himself reflected back in them. He could see himself screaming the way his mother had screamed at him, screaming the same things.

Saeran didn’t know how the others had managed to process everything so quickly, although he guessed that the fact that he was adamant about doing it in silence, refusing the therapists help, had something to do with it. Part of the reason he had rejected the therapists attempt to speak to him was because that would be admitting that he needed the help, and Saeran had worked so hard to convince himself that he did not need to rely on anyone for so long that he was not ready to let that barrier come down, especially not to someone he did not know. Besides, he had a slight distaste for the fact she had referred to him as ‘the persecutor’, as though he didn’t have a name. He knew that the other alters in the headspace had anger, had a rage for how they had been treated, but it was no longer their priority. They had each chosen to let go of that grudge in order to enjoy the life that lay ahead of them, and beside them. But Saeran was built with so much anger that it felt as though he consisted only of guarded walls lined with barbed wire, so much so that even if someone stupidly attempted to climb those walls, they would not get away unscathed. He had protected himself with that rage and had needed it to retaliate to anyone who had dared hurt them again. He had to be the strongest because he had too frequently been the weakest.

He was breathing a little heavier, probably from all of the thoughts rushing around his already too busy head. But through learned experience, Saeran was very good at staying quiet and tried to keep his breathing steady so he didn’t wake you up and have to explain himself. It wasn’t as though he could just pretend to be one of the others, he wouldn’t do himself a disservice like that. Once he saw that you were still comfortably asleep, he started to relax a little bit, tilting his head in your direction.

He knew the body was used to being in the bed beside you, but it was still his first time experiencing it as himself. It was a weird concept to him. How did the other Saeran do it? Did he sleep right up beside you, holding you? Or maybe he slept on his back too, since Saeran had woken up on his back. What about Ray, did he still cower on the side of the bed, his back pressed up against the wall? Ready to leap out at any sudden noise? Questions he would never ask them, but often wondered the answers to. In the darkness, Saeran felt as though he could be a little more honest with himself; as though it acted as a blanket for his emotions. He had hidden himself in the darkness for so long that there was a certain comfort to it. He couldn’t see what was lurking around the corner, but he also couldn’t be seen by whatever was waiting for him. It was a more equal playing field.

You shifted again, calling his gaze to your hand. You clenched and unclenched and then clenched again, as though something in your dream was requiring your attention. He wanted to reach out and hold your hand in the same way that the others did, but he couldn’t. Primarily, because he didn’t want to wake you, but also because Saeran didn’t think that he deserved to do so. You’d held out your hand to him so many times and each time he’d smacked it away, or worse, used that extended hand against you. His eyes remained focused on it, placed next to your sleeping head, so soft and small in comparison to his own. He sighed at the guilt seeping into his body as he remembered when you had tried to push him away with those hands, pressing them against his chest. At the time, in some sickened sense, it had amused him that you were so easy to physically overpower, and it gave him such a sense of joy that, for the first time, he was the stronger one in a dynamic. Now, he knew it was because your hands were not made to carry such a destructive force. You hadn’t hurt him because you hadn’t wanted to hurt him, you’d pitied him because you could already see the agony that he was writhing in, whereas he was almost blind to it.

Saeran didn’t deserve to, and yet, he wanted to hold your hand. To feel the warmth that was always so denied to him. He was jealous of the others who could do it so freely, who did not have to sit in anguish over it. The guiltless ones, he carried their guilt for them. He guessed that it was the price he had to pay to be allowed to take up the space he called his own, and for the other ones to be able to live so happily. His own hand twitched under the blanket as he slowly freed it from beneath the sheets. He didn’t place it on yours, but gently positioned it on the pillow next to it, just a few inches away. After a moment of consideration, and calculating the risk, Saeran held his breath and slowly moved the side of his finger up against your hand. His own skin was always cold, but yours was so much warmer than he could have imagined. It held so much love, love that he was so undeserving of. He kept his hand frozen against yours, not daring to move it any closer but not wanting to pull it away.

There were so many thoughts and confusing feelings rushing through Saeran’s head, but he was so grounded by your warm touch that he just wanted to fall asleep in it where he knew you could keep him safe and secure. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad if he could have allowed himself a little bit of vulnerability while no one was awake to witness it. They couldn’t prove that he had let his guard down. Saeran’s cool eyes focused on the sight of your hands against one another before he started to close his eyes and drift off; comforted by the lavender and the skin to skin contact. He wanted to sleep knowing that you were right beside him, just within his reach.

That was, at least, until he heard soft whimpers coming from your side of the bed. It sounded as though you were crying. He began to panic, pulling his own hand away in case he had somehow hurt you. Although he couldn’t do it audibly, Saeran began to curse himself for being the one who had woken up, it should have been one of the others, someone who wouldn’t ruin everything. You were going to leave him, he was going to be abandoned once again and it was all his fault and-

‘S…Sae-ran…’ You whispered, snapping him out of his myriad of self-destruction. He’d woken you up and you were going to scream when you saw him, reliving the horror that he had put you through. The horror that the others had worked so hard to fix in his place. He froze, the predator becoming the prey and burning up his fight or flight response. It was difficult for him to see in the dark but he was able to hear you moving around in the sheets, before muttering his name once more. Well, it was his name, but he knew you weren’t calling for him. He squinted, trying to make out what was happening, and it quickly occurred to him that you were having a nightmare. What did you have to fear when you were asleep? What creatures haunted your dreams and chased you through the forest? He wondered, briefly, in that sad moment, if he was the one in your nightmare, taunting you and robbing you of your freedom. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t wake you up, then you’d know it was him and not your beloved Saeran. It was him in his place, the wrong one. He couldn’t wake you up, freeing you from one monster and then forcing you straight into the company of another.

‘Pull her closer.’ The thought came to him in a whisper, but he wasn’t quite sure if it was his own or one of the others. His hands seemed to move on their own as he scooped you up, pulling you against his chest. Was he trembling? He hadn’t realised he was holding his breath until he sighed. He had had a lot of practice of not making a sound while breathing. This time, when he breathed, all he could smell was you. Your perfume, your shampoo, even the lipbalm you wore for bed. It was like another drug. He’d had you this close to him before, but never like this, never with the tenderness that he managed on that occasion. It was new for him too, allowing someone to get so close. He thought about how many times he had told you that you smelled disgusting, how you made him feel sick to even be around, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You smelled like a comfort he had never had.

You sleepily hugged him back, entirely unaware of anything except for the soft embrace of arms around your back: protecting you from whatever ailment plagued you in your sleep. After a minute or so of being pressed against his chest, you stopped shaking. His gaze fell to you, taking in the tired features of your face and carefully watching them melt into a happy peace. The two of you laid there in one another’s embrace in the middle of the bed for a while. Saeran felt such utter confliction at the idea of being the one to hold you. He felt guilty, deciding that you only wanted his touch thinking it was the better Saeran, and that he had somehow deceived you by being the one to hold you in his place. And yet, there was an odd sense of pride pooling in his chest that, this time, he was able to help you instead of hurt you. That was a first for him. It was small, and he was uncertain of it, but he had the hope that perhaps he would able to provide the blanket you needed like the others could. He could be the arms to protect you, instead of the ones you needed protecting from.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed awake to watch you sleep for, but he wanted to savour the private moment while he still could before you knew it was him. ‘Would it be so bad if she did know?’ That same voice said but he did not have the time it ponder it before he felt the effects of the lavender weighing heavy on the air. He thought that, given how much they enjoyed being outside, that one of the others would have opened the window to let some air in before going to bed. Ironic, really. Maybe it was intentional. After all, you weren’t the only one to get nightmares and needed coaxing to go back to sleep. If there was one thing they had all learned from Rika, it was the effectiveness of plants.

His eyes were getting heavy, and Saeran was no longer someone to pass up on the opportunity of sleep when it was offered to him. He had years of it to make up for. While he could, he placed his chin on top of your head, pulling you a little closer as he did so. His heart was thudding so heavily against his ribcage, to the point he thought maybe that would be what’d wake you up, and that would really be a kick in the teeth for him. However, you squeezed yourself closer to him, causing him to release a shaky sigh. You wanted him closer. It was the feeling of your embrace that Saeran felt before falling back asleep, and he noted the fact that this was the first time he was being held. It was… nice. Safe.

That next morning, you awoke to the smell of breakfast, and heard a couple of cluttering pans in the kitchen. While it was pretty usual for Saeran or Ray to bring you breakfast in bed, he was usually pretty quiet about it, so you thought that maybe he was trying a new recipe and that it had gone wrong. You shuffled out of bed, brushing your teeth and washing your face before heading into the kitchen. Saeran stood with his back to you, fully dressed in his usual white shirt and black trousers, facing the oven. His hair was a little messy, but no one rolled out of bed with perfect hair. It was cute.

‘Good morning, my love.’ You said, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing a little kiss into his back before putting the kettle on.

‘Mornin’.’ Saeran replied, casually. You paused for a second, wondering why he didn’t greet you with one of his typical flowery greetings, or at the very least a term of endearment, but brushed it off figuring that he might just be a little bit tired since it was still pretty early.

‘What do you wanna eat?’ He asked as you set two cups down on the breakfast table before pulling your seat out. His tones and mannerisms were a little different than usual, and you thought- No. Both Ray and Saeran assured you that he wasn’t ready yet. Surely, he wouldn’t just turn up one morning without warning.

‘It looks like you tried to make eggs.’ You laughed, his back still towards you as he cracked another egg into the frying pan and discarded the shell to the side of the oven.

‘Yeah, fuckin’ harder than I remember them being.’ He said, which definitely made you do a double take.

‘Who… are you, if you don’t mind me asking?’ You asked tentatively, not wanting to upset whoever the Saeran in front of you was. You knew he didn’t mind your questions since they never came from a place of malice anyway, but you always wanted to be considerate regardless.

He turned around, leaning back up against the kitchen side. He folded his arms but displayed a very distinctive smirk that you had not seen in so long. It was different this time though, his blue eyes were different. They were still tormented and anguished, but it was no longer directed at you. The ice in his eyes had begun to thaw.

‘What? Don’t you recognise me, doll?’

[hexensalbei]

play with fire

find on ao3

This is going to be a fun ride.

The silence in the car is scary because itʼs uncomfortable and that has never been a problem before. Buck shoots a quick glance at his friend. Eddieʼs eyes are fixated on the road, his jaw so clenched, Buck swears, he can hear his teeth gritting. His hands are on the steering wheel but his grip is so tight, his knuckles are white. Yeah, heʼs definitely mad.

The problem is that Buck doesnʼt know why Eddie is so furious.

Fine.

Maybe he knows. But that doesnʼt mean he understands. Heʼs never seen Eddie that angry. He remembers vividly when Eddie snapped at him in the grocery store right after the lawsuit—but itʼs just a pale comparison to his rage now. It doesnʼt make sense—because Buck didnʼt do anything stupid like another lawsuit—he just... He just did his job.

He risked his life to save someone elseʼs but he does it almost on a daily basis; Eddie does the exact same thing and yet, Buck has never snapped at him. So why is it different now?

Because you almost died today says an annoying voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like his sister.

Because you almost died in Eddieʼs fucking arms.

Buck tries to ignore it; he has to ignore it because if he doesnʼt, heʼll drown in guilt and shame. And probably wake up some long forgotten demons.

He canʼt re-live it again and again.

When they stop, he realises, theyʼre in front of Eddieʼs house and heʼs genuinely surprised his friend brought him here.

“This isnʼt my apartment.” He blurts out. He knows itʼs probably the dumbest thing he couldʼve said but he doesnʼt understand why Eddie took him to his home if heʼs pissed off at him. Itʼd be definitely easier to cool off if the source of his anger wasnʼt there, right? 

“Like hell Iʼm letting you stay alone after the shit you did.”

Thereʼs something in Eddieʼs voice that makes Buck squirm. He sounds angry, sure, but also hurt, broken. Resigned. He sounds exactly like when Shannon died.

Buck knows that because he was there. He remembers how mad Eddie was at his wife for leaving him and Christopher again, this time for good.

Eventually, Eddie gets out of the car and goes to the house. Buck quietly follows his best friendʼs footsteps and he flinches when Eddie drops off his bag on the floor.

“You can take a shower if you want, Iʼll make up the bed.”

He knows Buck too well; he knows that Buck hates the specific smell of the hospital and always tries to get rid of it as soon as possible. Buckʼs really grateful for that also because he can simply postpone their argument, just for a little bit. Maybe shower will help him cool off because heʼs irritated too but he doesnʼt truly want to fight with Eddie. He goes to the bathroom, takes off his clothes and steps under the shower. He lets the cold water run down his body and he really tries to calm himself; there was enough drama today and yeah, he almost died so he deserves to have a moment of uninterrupted peace. Or so he thinks. Heʼs getting more and more cold and he knows he should get out before Eddie will storm inside and drag him out of the shower. Buck wouldnʼt be even surprised if his friend did something like this.

Then, with a long sigh, he turns off the water and steps out of the shower. He quickly rinses himself with a towel and slips into his most comfortable clothes. Whatʼs a little funny and maybe even ironic, his favorite grey, worn out t-shirt is actually Eddieʼs and it even smells like him.

Crap.

He really needs to finally leave the bathroom and face his friend but heʼs trying to delay the inevitable by thoroughly brushing his teeth. And then, he doesnʼt find anything else he can do so he goes back to the living room. Heʼs quite surprised that he doesnʼt see the pillows or blanket on the couch because he thought heʼs gonna sleep there and heʼs even more surprised he doesnʼt see Eddie there. He finds him in the kitchen instead, leaning against the counter and nursing his favourite beer. Thereʼs a glimpse of hope in Buckʼs chest that maybe Eddie cooled off a little, that maybe he realised he has exaggerated and his anger isnʼt completely justified. Heʼs wrong, though. Eddie is not even slightly less annoyed and it takes Buck one look at his best friend to realise that.

He sighs again because Eddieʼs anger starts to get on his nerves. He moves closer until he stands against Eddie and looks him in the eye.

“Do what you have to do, letʼs get this over with.” He says with a tiredness in his voice. The only thing he wants right now is sleep, he wants to fall asleep and forget about the whole world for a couple of hours. “If you want to yell at me then be my guest and do it. I donʼt even care.”

“Oh, so now youʼre annoyed at me? Really?” Eddie asks wryly and sets aside the bottle with a little too much force, it almost smashes. Neither of them care anyway. Theyʼre now standing against each other, so close they almost hear each otherʼs heartbeat and they fix each other with a glare. 

“Yeah, I am. You act like Iʼve done something wrong, like I wasnʼt supposed to do this and—” 

Heʼs cut off by Eddie who lets out a humourless laugh and answers in a higher voice than usual. 

“God, do you even listen to yourself? You went to that building all by yourself, you disobeyed Bobbyʼs specific orders to not go there because youʼre you and youʼre above all the orders, right? It doesnʼt matter if Bobby did it because he didnʼt want to risk one of us dying there. But you just couldnʼt listen.”

“Funny thatʼs coming out from the man who cut his rope and almost died in the well.” Buck interjects viciously because heʼs truly angered by now.

Something flashes in Eddieʼs eyes but Buck canʼt name it. He doesnʼt even have the time to think about it because his best friend doesnʼt back out.

“Itʼs not relevant now, weʼre talking about today and your stupid, reckless behaviour. What were you thinking? Or-Or maybe donʼt. You probably werenʼt thinking at all. Obviously. And it almost cost you a life! Your life! How can you be so reckless?!” Eddie shouts and the pain in his voice is very noticeable but Buck pretends to ignore it.

“Iʼm a firefighter. Itʼs kinda in a job description, donʼt you think? Sometimes I have to be a little reckless. Besides, I did save a life and I didnʼt die either, right? Otherwise I wouldnʼt be standing there and listen to you being all pissed.” Buck shrugs like itʼs nothing, like he really doesnʼt care about his life. Itʼs probably another thing he shouldnʼt have said because Eddie straightens up and now, thereʼs almost no space between. For the second Buck thinks Eddie will lash out and just hit him. He kinda wishes he did. But Eddie only sighs heavily and rakes through his hair with frustration. 

“God, youʼre driving me crazy, Buckley. Youʼre so dumb and stubborn and you donʼt even stop for a second to think about the consequences of your actions. You donʼt even care what would happen if you actually died, do you?”

Thereʼs something in Eddieʼs voice, something hard to catch and name that stops Buck from responding immediately. His words are ringing in his ears because they are annoyingly true. He didnʼt think about the consequences of his eventual death. He literally just stormed inside the building to find a man despite Bobbyʼs direct order to not go there because it was already too dangerous. He did it anyway, he managed to save a life but he didnʼt manage to get out in time and the whole building just collapsed. He doesnʼt remember much but he certainly remembers being held out by Eddie and his donʼt you dare die here, you dumbass. 

It mustʼve been scary, he admits, and he thinks he understands how Eddie mustʼve felt because he also saw his best friend almost dying. But the anger? He still doesnʼt get it.

“Iʼve had a few close calls during the years. Why is it so different now?” He finally asks.

“Because Iʼm in love with you, you asshole!” Eddie cries out. “And you just keep dying on me and I canʼt take it anymore!”

Buckʼs brain short-circuits. He mustʼve died after all, right? There is no real possibility Eddie just told heʼs in love with him. Thereʼs no possibility he may actually reciprocate his feelings. Thereʼs no way itʼs not just his hallucination or some kind of weird dream in his afterlife. But he desperately wants to be the truth, desperately needs validation for his thoughts. So he does the first thing that comes to his mind: he grabs Eddie by the collar of his Henley and crashes their lips together. His friend is definitely surprised, even shocked and for a moment, he does nothing. Buck already starts to panic because he thinks it’s real and he might’ve misheard everything or even projected it and just destroyed their friendship. But then, Eddie suddenly changes position and pushes Buck until he leans against the counter. And when he kisses him, all thoughts and doubts are completely gone from Buckʼs mind. The only things that matter are Eddieʼs lips on his, Eddieʼs hands on his body, Eddie utterly focused on him and that desperate need to fulfil their desire. Buck mightʼve kissed a lot of people in his life; he has had both awkward and amazing kisses but they cannot compete to make out with his best friend. It feels entirely different, maybe because Eddie loves him back. They break apart only for a couple of seconds to take a breath; Buck sits on the counter and brings Eddie closer by the belt. He canʼt take his eyes off him; Eddie looks wonderful with already swollen lips, flushed cheeks and a spark in his eyes. He probably looks no better but he doesnʼt even care.

“I know youʼve probably already noticed but I love you too, asshole.” He says in a teasing voice, inches away from Eddieʼs lips.

“Well, I mightʼve suspected it when you kissed me but itʼs nice to actually hear it. But donʼt even think that you say you love me, bat your eyelashes and kiss me this way and I wonʼt be angry at you.” Eddie warns half-seriously.

“I can try.” Buck just smirks and kisses him again. This time, he also quickly unbuckles the belt Eddieʼs wearing and starts to lift his shirt. His friend doesnʼt even protest, he lets him do whatever he wants and thatʼs why his Henley ends up somewhere on the floor. Then, the blonde moves from his lips to his neck and slowly makes his way down, planting kisses on his chest. Itʼs crazy how quickly their anger turned into lust. Now, the tension between them is much better, more exciting, easy to resolve. 

Eddie lets out a loud moan when Buck—this sneaky bastard—grabs his ass and squeezes it.

“Youʼre a menace.” He hisses.

“Oh, you should wait with the sweet talk after Iʼm done with you, Diaz.” Buck grins and he doesnʼt stop with the teasing. He unzips Eddieʼs jeans painfully slowly and Eddie almost whines to hurry up. The younger man notices it and winks at him before he adds. “Although Iʼm not sure if youʼll be able to talk at all.” 

“So maybe quit talking, Evan, and show me your skills?” 

“As you wish, Edmundo.”

[bloody-hearts-lane]

How the Slashers Would: Play Among Us

sorry it has taken me approximately a million years to start writing again! i hope the stuff i have in store might make up for it. but to kick it off, something a little bit goofy. c:

Amanda Young

rating: 9/10, upsettingly good.

she probably mains red or black.

amanda is a menace in this game. shes the kind of player that, no matter how good you or anyone else is, you can NEVER tell if she's the imposter or not.

she's just so good at hiding it! half the time, she absolutely carries her imposter team, and you never even know.

she always kills you last, though, if she has to kill you at all. so thats nice, i guess–

she really enjoys setting up games so every aspect can be exactly the way she wants it. she also prefers playing in one imposter games, because she thinks its more challenging that way.

Billy Loomis

rating: 8/10, so..... suspicious.

for SURE mains black.

he's the kind of player who can pull of the weirdest, most confusing series of kills. probably shockingly good at setting up and executing stack kills. how?? how does he do it so smoothly????

he's usually pretty okay at hiding that he's the imposter.

but he will loudly complain if he doesn't get imposter often enough for his liking. he will also get personally offended if you (or stu, or both) get imposter a lot in one game, and he doesn't.

when you get a round where the imposters are really bad, no matter what the reason could be, he critiques the hell out of them and complains about how they are no fun to play with.

he loves when the two of you are an imposter team. even better, on bigger maps, he loves when you, him, and stu are all imposters. it happens rarely, but its his favorite thing.

you know he's considering killing you when he gets weirdly quiet in the middle of a round. just stay away from the vents, you might be fine.

Stu Macher

rating: 7/10, very fun, very chaotic.

never has a main color. switches it up every round. he also likes to wear the pumpkin on his head, or the fried egg.

stu is a good talker, so a lot of the time, he manages to talk his way out of being voted off. you've even seen him manage to talk his way out of being voted off when someone saw him kill another player in front of them.

he's considerably more chaotic than billy, so his kills aren't as smooth, but he has an unnatural knack for knowing when people are alone and taking them out.

he brings a lot of energy to games.

even when you play with him, you make it your number one goal to never be alone with him in a room, just in case.

he assures you that he would never kill you!! (spoiler alert, he won't, until he cant get anyone else alone and he asks you to come watch him do a visual task, only to kill you and win the game. how rude, stu.)

Bo Sinclair

rating: 3/10, girl..... calm down.

feels like a dark blue main.

have you ever seen someone rage quit among us? you're about to!

has a bad habit of getting aggressive in chat, so people tend to vote him pretty quickly even if he isn't imposter.

he fully exits the game the second his poor little character gets shot into space, and then you get to hear about how stupid everyone is while he watches you play over your shoulder.

to be fair, he was usually correct about who the imposter was, so he is a LITTLE justified about being angry, but. homeboy has some Anger Issues and the rage is very real.

as the imposter, he's usually pretty good at not getting caught.... until someone asks what he's been doing or where he was, and he gets a little too defensive.

you can see it coming from a mile away, and if you don't want to hear about him losing for the next three hours, feel free to tell everyone he's been with you the whole time.

Brahms Heelshire

rating: 5/10, stop hiding!!!

mains dark green or dark blue.

dude. get out of the vents.

everytime he kills someone, he will immediately hide in the vents until someone reports the body and the next round starts.

the only time he breaks this pattern is if someone is standing directly over or in front of the vent, at which point he pops out to kill them and then pops right back in.

i mean it works??? i guess??? but come ON–

he has never killed you when he was the imposter, and he gets mopey if you kill him, so i advise against it.

whenever he isn't imposter, he follows you around for like 90% of the game, just watching you complete all your tasks before he even starts his. and he expects you to stay with him while he does his!

Carrie White

rating: 6/10 so pure. so good.

genuinely dislikes being the imposter. she isn't good at lying to people, so she always gets herself caught, and she usually ends up lowkey freaking out and either self reporting the body or not running away fast enough and getting caught.

mostly, when she's imposter, she will close doors and sabatoge things in the hopes that her partner will do the rest.

she usually mains white, and either has the little flower on her head or the the little sprout. gives off very sweet vibes.

as a crewmate, she is very dutiful in getting her tasks done. she always vouches for people, especially you, and will always volunteer to watch someone do a visual task. (sometimes you go with her just to make sure this doesn't backfire on her...... no murdering carrie on your watch).

she talks to everyone in chat too, both in the lobby, and in deadchat. she makes friends everywhere!

she may not be the best at the game, but she is sO fun to play with. just a good wholesome time.

Jason Vorhees

rating: 2/10....... he tried.

do NOT let him set up the game, he will make the walking speeds so slow.

but, okay, first of all, how did you get him to play??? how did you convince him to agree to this??? are we sure he knows whats going on-

i suppose it doesn't matter, he would probably do anything you asked him to do anyway, and if he thinks you would really have fun playing with him, then heaven forbid he say no!

either way, he is dead. silent. for the whole game. he doesn't even type in chat, except for the very occasional 'yes' or 'no.'

he would probably be the person who just said 'yes' if someone asked if he was the imposter.

he also doesn't have a main color, but mostly because he either doesn't know HOW to change it, or doesn't care enough to do it. if you ask him/do if for him, though, he would like either dark green or brown. (you could even give it the cute little hockey mask!)

The Lost Boys (+Star)

rating: 4/10, children please.

this is a group thing. if you convince one of them to play, then they're ALL playing. hell, you might even manage to convince Star to play.

paul is the single most untrustworthy player you have ever seen. even when he ISNT the imposter, his absolute buckwild energy just makes him seem so suspicious. he sabotages everything, and he probably seeks you out just to kill you first.

marko is probably a yellow main, and he always wears the weirdest shit available. he gives me the vibes of someone who would probably get lost a lot on the bigger maps or be the person who pretends he's lost so he has an alibi

dwayne is the one you have to watch out for. he's so good at faking you out, you never know if he's the imposter until he stabs you in the back. he won't even feel bad about it.

sidenote, dwayne lets laddie co-pilot when he plays. laddie makes the decisions, so if someone dies, it was probably not dwaynes choice. these are the rounds where you probably won't die right away.

star is a very casual player, super noncommittal. she is both good to have on your team, and awful, because she will absolutely turn on you and vote you out to save herself as a last resort. shes the only one who won't immediately seek you out to kill you.

when all of them are crewmates, its a hot mess. no one can communicate with them spamming chat, paul never does his tasks, dwayne camps on cams, and marko ABUSES the emergency call button.

The Man

rating: 8/10, actually really good???

he mains red, with the classic hockey mask.

he gets like.... a little too into planning shit. its just a game, its not that deep, pls sir–

but that makes him a very capable imposter, and hes soo good at keeping up the facade and talking with you like nothing is wrong, and before you know it, he's killed three people in the first round.

its really a toss up on whether or not he'll kill you at all in the game. if he does, he saves you til last.

there are times where he gets a little too heated if someone catches him or his teammate turns on him, and he will be fuming until the game ends and he gets to rant into chat. thats usually when you need to step in–

other than that, he's pretty chill about the whole thing. he likes to experiment with kills, like stack kills and taking advantage of glitches or hiding spots.

hes also a MASTER of sabatoge. he's so good at using those tools.

Vincent Sinclair

rating: 8/10, friendship > everything else.

likes to main white, which is interesting, because he is NOT the typical white main.

as an imposter, he's actually pretty good.

he seems like the kind of person to lead you away from everyone, and vent in front of you to let you know hes an imposter, and then ruthlessly kill everyone except for you.

most of the time he will just follow you around to make sure no one else kills you while you do your tasks.

a lot more talkative in chat than you might think, too.

catch him highkey shit talking people with you

hes also a good teammate to have as a crewmember; he always remembers where everyone was, who he passed, who was in a room with who, etc.

just very cool to play with in general.

[ibijau]

“I’ve got a sick sense of justice, but you knew that.” 3zun fic? Where things work out between them, somehow, and yet JGY still kills JGS the same way and defends that choice to LXC and NMJ (Or JZX, if he's alive)? Can go full on JGS was stealing his women's energy, hence their sickness/deaths!

warning for mentions of death, rape and murder. Yay, it’s a happy one :D

Nie Mingjue storms into the cell, only for Jin Guangyao to look up and smile at him, as if he were welcoming him into his quarters, rather than locked up and in chains. He smiles just as peacefully to Lan Xichen when he follows their lover inside, pretending not to notice the other man's obvious distress. 

"I hope Da-ge and Er-ge will forgive me if I do not stand and bow to them," Jin Guangyao calmly says, rattling his chains. 

Nie Mingjue stares at him, taken aback. 

Even though they have reached a tentative peace between them, and Jin Guangyao often makes efforts to be more open with them than he is with anyone else, he still is the same person he always was. When he gets in trouble, he makes himself pathetic before them, almost on instinct. Sometimes it annoys Nie Mingjue, but other times it feels almost like a joke between them, as long as Jin Guangyao has that twinkle in his eye to show he knows he won't be taken seriously. 

To see him this calm and detached is unsettling. Nie Mingjue can only wonder if it has something to do with that large bruise on the side of his head. Going by the colour it is at least a day old. No cultivator of Jin Guangyao's level should have let this last this long. 

"Ah, this," Jin Guangyao notes, feeling their gaze. "Zixun was not very happy and let it be known. I am sorry to present myself before you in such a state, but my powers have been sealed, and I could not do anything about it. Please, just avoid looking at it." 

That makes Nie Mingjue frown. If Jin Zixun is behind one bruise, he's ready to bet there are more, hidden under Jin Guangyao’s clothes. He forces his mind to drift away from the worry he feels, because the real problem today is… 

"Did you do it?" Lan Xichen asks, something wavering in his usually calm voice. 

Jin Guangyao placidly looks up at him. 

"What do you think, Er-ge?" 

Lan Xichen trades a glance with Nie Mingjue. 

What they think is that Jin Zixun, who uncovered the plot against his late uncle, is not the most reliable man in the world, and holds a grudge against Jin Guangyao since that near fiasco with Wei Wuxian at Jin Ling's hundredth day party. 

They think also that he did bring convincing evidence. The most critical one is the testimony of a woman who took part in the murder of Jin Guangshan. She says she did not see the man who paid for her services, but she would recognise his voice. She also did see Xue Yang, and they all know the little creep respects no one except Jin Guangyao. 

They think that Jin Zixuan is desperately trying to prove his half brother's innocence, but finding it difficult. 

They think that Jin Guangyao has killed his superiors before. 

They think he promised he wouldn't again, and they both made the choice to trust him. 

And Nie Mingjue thinks, also, that although they've disagreed on means and motives, Jin Guangyao never strikes unprovoked, which he says out loud. 

The tenderness in Jin Guangyao’s eyes as he hears this is nearly unbearable. 

“Da-ge, are you really asking for my side of the story?” he asks in disbelief. 

It might be sincere. It might be feigned. Nie Mingjue never knows with him, just as he suspects Jin Guangyao never knows what to expect from him.

“We know your father was not… the kindest of men,” Lan Xichen says gently, kneeling down next to Jin Guangyao to send some spiritual energy into him and help him heal. Jin Guangyao sighs in relief, but keeps his eyes on Nie Mingjue even as Lan Xichen continues speaking. “You have let us know about some of the things he’s done, A-Yao, and I’ve long suspected there’s more you never told us. If he did anything to deserve such an end…”

“Of course he deserved it,” Jin Guangyao cuts him, still looking at Nie Mingjue. “You both know it as well as I do. He deserved it whether I had a hand in it or not. He was a selfish man. He only joined the Sunshot Campaign because he hoped to become what Wen Ruohan had been. He only took me in because his true son, forcefully kept from the heat of the action, failed to garner glory for Lanling Jin. And I won't get into the details of everything that happened with Wei Wuxian."

"But none of these things are why you killed him," Nie Mingjue retorts, suddenly convinced that Jik Guangyao really did it. 

Once, it would have filled him with rage to realise this. Back when he first understood what sort of a person his efficient and soft spoken friend was, when he saw Jin Guangyao murder his own captain… But since then, Nie Mingjue has learned to forgive, at least somewhat. Because when Jin Guangyao killed Nie Mingjue’s men in Nightless City, he took care to only murder those who once derided him for his background, to lightly wound the ones who never mocked him. 

It was still wrong, those were still good men, but Nie Mingjue, who had been burning for years with his hatred of the Wens, understood that better than he ought to have done. 

So there is no anger as Nie Mingjue too kneels down next to their lover. Only disappointment. In himself, for wanting to excuse this most awful crime. In Jin Guangyao, for not coming to them this time, when he thought something was wrong. They had listened about Wei Wuxian, they would have listened about this too. 

"Some brothels offer specialised services," Jin Guangyao says, the smile on his face shifting from loving to cold and polite, the way it used to be around his father. "I suppose this doesn't surprise you. Someone with money can always get what they want in this world." 

Both Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen nod uncomfortably. 

"Some of those services offered are of a rather different nature," Jin Guangyao goes on, his eyes growing distant. "They are difficult to perform, cannot be repeated, and cost an obscene amount of money… not to speak of the moral cost. It takes a certain kind of man to purchase such services. Believe it or not, even Xue Yang found it distasteful. For all the wrong reasons, but still, I think Da-ge and Er-ge will agree that it takes a lot to shock someone like Xue Yang."

Lan Xichen takes their lover's hand, trying to comfort him, but Nie Mingjue freezes. He is suddenly reminded of certain rumours, gossip so foul that it had to be exaggerated. He's always refused to pay it any mind, knowing well there were horror stories about him as well, as there always are against powerful men. 

He can't escape it now.

“It’s not hard to find human cauldrons, if you know how to look for them,” Jin Guangyao states in a voice devoid of any emotion, staring somewhere in the distance. “And some men will always look for an easy way to improve their cultivation, even if it means raping and killing a girl for it. There are addresses, and certain euphemisms. These days, you would ask to see a Wen girl. I’ve learned that a few years ago, people called them educated women.”

Nie Mingjue only frowns at that comment, but next to him Lan Xichen gasps in horror, squeezing Jin Guangayo’s hand.

“Your mother…”

Jin Guangyao blinks a few times, and forces himself to look at Lan Xichen. It appears to take him great effort. Nie Mingjue wonders if it is the topic that causes this, or if the blow to his head caused more damage than is visible.

“No, don’t worry. She was just actually educated. It didn’t mean the same thing in Yunping as it did in Lanling, but my father found her attractive enough for his other purposes, I suppose.” Jin Guangyao looks away again, his face growing harder. “Others were not as lucky. It is all too easy to get what you want, with enough money.”

“You should have told us,” Nie Mingjue says. “If you had come to us with proof…”

“My father is not so stupid that he would have left proof,” Jin Guangyao hisses between clenched teeth, still staring at the wall. “Even he would have had trouble justifying doing such a thing to augment his power. I only found out because I went to fetch him with Xue Yang at a brothel one day, and heard him discussing in detail his next… purchase. Xue Yang happened to be knowledgeable about certain euphemisms we were hearing, and thought it entertaining to explain to me. After this I started looking. It’s funny what you find, when you look for it. It wasn’t proof enough to openly attack him, not with my background. But it was enough to be sure. And then…”

Jin Guangyao chuckles darkly, his eyes finally meeting Nie Mingjue’s.

“I’ve got a sick sense of justice, but you knew that,” he says with unnerving calm. “Xue Yang was on board because he thinks that sort of thing is cheating. Torturing the dead and cutting them from their reincarnation doesn’t phase him, but he knows it could have been him, if he’d been born a girl. And so we did what had to be done. My father died the way he lived.”

He pauses a moment, taking in the expression on his lovers’ faces, from Lan Xichen’s horror at that confession to Nie Mingjue’s anger that once again, this took clever man made all the wrong choices.

“Nobody else would have dared to stand against him,” Jin Guangyao adds, smiling feverishly, his gaze on Nie Mingjue. “But I’ve always been one to do what others wouldn’t. Someone has to get their hands dirty, Da-ge. I’ve never minded doing it when my turn came. I wonder if you will, now that you know the truth? You’ve always been such a champion of justice, always telling others to be righteous. Let’s see what choice you make, now that justice isn’t such an easy thing to decide.”

[starkovsnesta]

It's like the fire (replaced all the love)

Summary: "When they crumble, they're not facing each other. Both of them have their gaze set ahead. The hands they have placed on the couch are mere centimeters away, not touching. There's silence in the room. None of them talks for a long time. Even in these circumstances, stubbornness and pride triumphs over their hearts. And maybe the way they break apart should be an indication on how they weren't really meant to be together, Nesta thinks."

Relationship: Nesta Archeron/Cassian

Tags: Angst, Break Up, Healing

Chapter 1 - such a burden, this flame on my chest

read on ao3

When they crumble, they're not facing each other. Both of them have their gaze set ahead. The hands they have placed on the couch are mere centimeters away, not touching. There's silence in the room. None of them talks for a long time. Even in these circumstances, stubbornness and pride triumphs over their hearts. And maybe the way they break apart should be an indication on how they weren't really meant to be together, Nesta thinks. 

She hears Cassian mumbling a curse and she feels his head turning towards her. 

"You promised you'd stop drinking" he whispers. 

And because Nesta always let's her rage talk in her place, she replies "and you promised you wouldn't hurt me". 

It isn't really his fault she is hurt, she knows. He has done nothing wrong. 

It all happened hours before. They were at some party. His friends were there, her sisters were there. Everybody seemed to be having a good time. But not Nesta. She had woken up without energy that morning. It was nothing new, but it pissed her off. She had gone to work, not talking to anyone. Cassian had sent some messages, he had even called. But she had ignored him. She wasn't mad at him, she just didn't want to talk to him. He would notice something was off, he would get worried and ask if something happened, not believing her when she said she felt that way with no reason. And how could she explain? So she let her phone ring. When she came home, he was there. His face was pale, and he was pacing on her porch. They had a fight. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that Cassian screamed at her, trying to calm down even as she kept ignoring him. They had just be quiet for a moment, and then decided to let it drop to go to a stupid party where Cassian's friends were waiting. 

When they arrived at the club, Nesta just sat down on a table, not interested in having any kind of human interaction. She had come just for him, because she felt guilty about ignoring him and making him worry for the hundredth time. But he didn't sit next to her. 

She had seen him dancing and talking to Morrigan, she had seen him laughing with her. The woman's hand placed on his knee like it belonged there. And maybe because she's always been jealous of the bright woman, maybe because she's always felt unworthy of Cassian's love, or maybe because she knows his friends would prefer seeing him with Mor, and they've never been very subtle about it, maybe because of all these reasons, she'd felt hurt. And she started drinking. She knows now it wasn't a smart thing to do, if not for the fact that she received judgemental glances  from those around her, people who feel morally superior to her. Her sisters among them.

Cassian now let's out an exasperated sigh.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you that there's nothing but friendship between me and Mor" he says. He tries to reach for her hand, but she pulls away. 

She knows she's hurting him. 

But she can't stop. She shifts her glacial eyes on him. "I don't believe you". 

The way his eyes close for a brief second, as if to gather some control, make her rage burn. 

When he opens them again, though, there's nothing but resignation. The same feeling that transpires when he murmurs "I love you, Nesta". Softly, as a caress. But it's received as a slap. It's not the first time he's said it. It's the first time she really doesn't know what to do with it. He loves her. But she's still hurt. She's still full of anger, she still has nightmares at night. She still thinks of alcohol and tries to drink herself to death almost every week, consciously or not. She still doesn't know how to love him back, because there isn't much place for love inside of her. There's only fire. She shouldn't have promised to stop drinking, because she knew she couldn't. She only did to make him quiet. She doesn't like when Cassian coddles her. Sometimes his way of caring for her makes her feel more of a broken doll than she already does. 

She comes to a realization, then and there: his love is not the thing she wants the most right now. 

That's why, after not managing to keep a tear from falling on her cheek, she replies "That's not enough". 

And that's how they fall apart. 

--------

They don't really see each other for months. Cassian tells himself that it is a good thing. He needs to move on. But he can't lie to himself too much. 

Not when he drinks almost every night to avoid thinking about her. It's ironic, he reflects, how he reaches for the same destruction that he didn't want her to reach for. Alcohol is the only solution he knows to his problems. He doesn't  talk to his friends about Nesta, and they don't ask questions. He's not sure if they're trying to give him space and time, or if they don't really care about the break up. They have always disliked Nesta, anyway. When they first started dating, his group of friends kept joking about it, like it was some sort of prank he was pulling on them. 

When he said he loved her, Rhysand just burst out laughing, shaking his head in delight. Cassian had decided not to be mad about it. They were his family. He knew they loved him, they were just a little bit overprotective. And Feyre, Rhysand's girlfriend, has never had a good relationship with her eldest sister. Maybe she told him not very pleasant anecdotes about her. Rhysand doesn't like anyone that has ever hurt Feyre. He's protective of her. 

Cassian had justified his behavior over and over. 

They hadn't said anything when he had come to a party hand in hand with Nesta for the first time. She was worried his friends wouldn't like her. She had told him so before coming out of the bathroom, her eyes read and her cheeks wet. "You shouldn't let them see you with me, Cass". But he had hugged her and comforted her, sure that this was just a silly worry and that his friends would support him no matter what. That night, everybody had ignored Nesta. He hadn't missed the glance Mor had sent him, though. As if he had betrayed her. Nesta was too smart to miss it too. 

And now, as things have fallen apart, he is asking himself over and over again: why the hell did he keep trying to unite the two parts? He wanted his friends and family to have second thoughts on Nesta. He wanted them to see her as he did. This spectacular, fierce, fucking complicated woman that had stolen his heart completely. 

Rhys and Azriel always accompany him to clubs now. Standing by his side, trying to joke. He doesn't always listen. Although he pretends he does. He even fakes smiles sometimes. It's only when they suggest he should start seeing another woman that he decides to stop drinking with them. And with time, he even sees them less. It's only when they present themselves at his apartment, asking for an explanation, that he realizes how angry he is at them.

For never supporting him, for always criticizing Nesta, for being happy they are apart, for never helping her. And he is mad at himself too. Especially for the last part.

That's why he explodes in front of them, letting his mouth scream out all the pain he feels inside, while his mind stays unbearably quiet except for a single sentence that keeps being repeated as a chant:

Not enough. Not enough. Not enough. 

---------

November 23

I don't know how to start this. Honestly, I don't even know why I'm writing to you at all. With how we left things, I guess you wouldn't want to ever hear from me again. And yet, here I am. 

Maybe I'll never send this letter. Or maybe I will and pretend I didn't. That's funny, isn't it? I always face problems in that way. I do things and then ignore them until I forget, or better, until others forget about them. I hope against all hope, cause I know you won't forget the shit I did to you. I know you regret putting up with me. I know you regret knowing me. And loving me. How could you love me? I always ask myself that question, and I guess now I'm asking you too. 

How could you fall in love for a wrecked thing like me? 

Do you remember when we met the first time? I was drunk. Of course. I must have said something rude, I don't remember the details, but I recall how you picked a fight. Because you love to do that. And I remember thinking about you the next day. Like, not in a positive way actually. But I thought about you. Because I couldn't ignore you. 

This is my way of saying that, from the beginning, you made place inside me (yes, I'm serving you a dirty joke on a silver plate, I know).

You're gone now. I mean, not like gone gone. I mean gone from my life, because you're not with me. And I guess, despite everything, I admit I miss it. I miss you. A lot. I'm not good with feelings, but I thought I was getting better while you were next to me. You make me feel safe. And that is what scares me the most, you know? I've never known a safety that would last. All the safe places in my life crumbled like castles of glass, and I guess they made so much noise inside of me that everytime I get near something similar again my first reaction is to cover my ears, not to listen. I run away from good things. You used to tell me that when we fought, do you remember? I think you do. You're right. I do. Because if I don't, the good things will capture me into their grip and I will be so caught up in the trap that I won't notice how it's suffocating me. I do want to be happy. It seems like I don't, but I really do. I just don't know how to be happy without being scared. And you terrify me. You really do. Because, and I think it's safe for me to say it now, you made me taste real happiness for the first time. 

It's a pity I will never deserve you. 

But you will be happy, you will find somebody else, I promise. I just hope you won't be too happy. It sounds selfish. I just mean I wish you won't be too happy to think about me, even if you hate me. I would prefer you'd keep hating me instead of not thinking of me at all. Don't forget me. Because I promise, I will never forget you. 

Yours (in more ways than you know), 

Nesta. 

-----

November 30

Nesta, 

I don't think I could ever forget you. You are like a drug I can't stop myself from taking, even though it hurts me. You hurt me. I won't pretend you didn't. I won't tell you sweet shit and give you my forgiveness or whatever. At least not yet. But I know I fucked up too. Maybe we are just wrong for each other. 

Shit, the mere thought makes me cry. That's also because I'm a little drunk. I miss you like hell. I even miss our fights, although they were so fucked up. We are so fucked up. But I really hoped we could work out either way. I hoped we would overcome these obstacles with our love and other romantic shit like that. I know it's ridiculous now. I won't forget you, Nes. I wish I could. I wish I could say that I'll get over you soon, that I'll be better, that I won't think about you anymore. I can't. I won't. I don't really want to. It's pathetic but this pain I feel is the only connection I have to you now, and I don't want to lose that. 

I love you. In my own fucked up way. And I know you loved me too. You're not good at saying it, or showing it. But I know you did. Or maybe I'm just kidding myself. 

Anyways, I hope you'll find a way to happiness one day. I'll be there when you do. 

Yours (but you already know it), 

Cassian. 

[shini--chan]

Okay, I've been wracking my brain to think of an ask for you because I know your writing is fire, and I don't want to waste it! If the mood strikes you, can you write a little yandere Levi in a universe of your choosing or constructing? I'm sort of interested to see how you imagine him as a yandere 😊

Thx, fam!

As I told you once before, this is the ask that almost made me forfeit my principal of answering asks chronologically. :P

So, this will be my usual mix of headcanons and Imagines if you don’t mind, since I have a lot of thoughts on this man and just don’t want to stumble into the snare of writing a full length story … yet.

I’ ll also keep this general, since the universe any Levi fic is set in just changes the nuances, and not fundamental character traits.

Also, I have to remark that it is already too late for me - I’m hip deep in academia.  

Yandere Levi Ackerman  

Captain Levi is a very orderly person, it is part of his lifestyle and how he interacts with others and himself. It is something he is really strict about and he wouldn’t tolerate anything less than perfect hygiene in a lover. To him, there is nothing less disgusting than poor body hygiene and should you start slacking off in anyway when it comes to taking care of yourself, a very fundamental aspect, then he won’t shy away from taking matters in his own hands.

You gasped as a bucket of water was frigidly emptied over head and you threw yourself out as your bed, expecting your assailant to have lunged onto you, should you have remained there.

Instead, he was standing right in front of you.

Somewhat shyly, you looked up into Levi’s pale face and sneered at the accursed object that he was holding in his hand. He sneered right back at you, the corners of his lips curled slightly upwards in disgust. A rather uncommon display of extreme emotion on his part, for being a commonly stoic man.

“Get up!”, he curtly barked to which you stiffly groaned. Sloppily, you got up, still groggy from being rudely awoken and not in the best mood because of it. The water running in rivulets down your body and made your sleep wear cling to your skin didn’t help either.

“What was that for?”, you whined, completely oblivious as to why he was being so imperious to you. What had you done to warrant such poor treatment?

“Don’t get cheeky now, little brat. You didn’t shower last night and went all sweaty to bed. You deserved what I did to you now.”

Him being orderly isn’t restricted to personal cleanliness, it is also about how disciplined a person is with themselves. Having had to live in harsh environments for his whole life, he is a firm believer in pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps. That also means that should you suffer from any mental disorder, trauma induction or not, he wouldn’t be very understanding. Not that he wouldn’t be concerned about your broken state of mind, rather he wouldn’t see how being kind and coddling you would fix it.

“You know brat, if you would stop sulking and feeling sorry for yourself, your life would start getting damn better”, he snarled at your cowered form.

Hunched over the table, you had elected to grab a beer to numb the pain that was ravaging your heart. Watching people die never became easy, especially when they were close to you.

“Just leave me alone”, you begged and raised the tankard to your mouth again. Yet before the wooden rim could touch your lips, it was shamelessly ripped away from you. Levi’s sharp grey eyes were honed on you, the fire of anger dancing in them. Just why did he have to play judge now of all times?

“No, you look like shit and you’re talking shit. Moping around wouldn’t make anything better you idiot. You need to your act together, not get piss drunk.” 

Furthermore, he needs to be in control. As soon as he feels like his vice-like grasp over reality is slipping, he does what all people do that are losing their power – he scrambles to re-attain it. And he doesn’t hesitate to utilize violence. On top of that he sees respect given, as power given, so he demands the piety that his position ought to give him.  It doesn’t matter that you’re his lover, if anything you ought to give him his due. Rows with him are literally the worst – be prepared to be swept of your feet! 

Roughly, you were slammed against the wall in a manner that knocked the wind out of your lungs with a crude sound. It was followed by a gasp as your ears rang from your skull having banged against the stone and your muscles and bones ached.

“What did you just say?”, Levi snarled, a rare look of utter rage on his handsome face. You knew it was a rhetorical question, he had heard you the first time around. But you were too steep in your own anger to not push your luck.

“Don’t be like that, darling”, you spat the last word as if it were poison in your mouth. Warranted actually, since you had been coerced and tricked into this relationship. “I said that maybe you should take a leave out of your superior’s book because all your shortcomings make you unbearable to be a runt. Somehow, I doubt that would work, though – you’ll always remain a sewer rat at heart.”

A wrong move – those handsome features contorted to something utterly ghastly.

“You know we wouldn’t have such problems if you could control that attitude of yours. And if you would show me respect”, he hissed as he pressed you further against the wall, so that you were sandwiched between stone and muscles to a painful degree. The hands grasping you by the front of your clothing didn’t help either.

Lips twisting into a snarl of your own, you countered: “Respect is supposed to be earned, Captain. I will only respect you if you respect me.” You were really insistent on digging yourself your own grave, weren’t you?

“You’re much prettier if you keep that mouth of yours shut.

“Consider the feeling to be mutual, brat. Why should I give you any respect if you won’t give me any? And remember, I’m above you, so I don’t owe you anything. You owe me the world.”

Levi also has a strict set of rules that he expects you to follow to the dot. A fair warning, however, he may change the one or the other spontaneously and not inform you of it until you’re bent over his desk. Also, it is common knowledge that he endorses corporal punishment and celebrates pain as a prim method to install discipline. He really thinks that bad behaviour can be beat out of somebody. He is also exceptionally cruel with his punishments. This can be traced back to how he was desensitized to violence at a relatively early age and revels in have people submit to him.

You had barely set foot in his study when he looked up from his paperwork and ordered you: “Come over here, and bend over the desk.”

Shocked by his harsh words, you nevertheless complied. You knew that resistance would only make matters worse. Still, as you bend over and pressed your cheek against the cool oak you asked: “What did I do wrong this time?”

Briefly, he stopped rummaging through the chest that stood by the window and glanced over his shoulder.

“Are you serious? Don’t you already know? And I though you weren’t so goddamn stupid”, he snapped.

Finally, having found what he was searching for, he turned towards you again. There was a semi-bored expression gracing his visage as he drawled: “I told you a thousand times before, pet. When you are finished with your afternoon chores you are to come directly to me. No chit-chat with somebody else, no fooling about and yet you disobey me again and again. Your ears really are just for decoration.”

You opened your mouth to protest but he carelessly cut you off: “I don’t care if they are your friends, you don’t need them. You just need me.”

Upon that you fell silent and closed your eyes in hopelessness as you waited for your punishment to commence. When do pain came after a minute of silence you dared to open your eyes and glance back.

Seeing that you were focused on him, Levi cleared his throat as if to say “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Then you remember and with a great amount of shame you bared your bottom and meekly requested: “Please Levi, my love, spank me thoroughly.”

As usual, it sickened you that he made you ask to be punished. It was his way of normalizing and justifying his abuse. And conditioning you.

A dark chuckle rumbled in his throat as he grabbed you by the nap as he pressed you against his desk. “There is a good little pet”, he whispered as leather made contact with your supple flesh. 

This man has a difficult time warming up to people. All the agony of losing those that meant the world to him repeatedly has caused him to become cold and reserved. That means that in his mind, you should view it as a privilege that you are the love of his life. Because of that, he won’t accept rejection. Also, since he hasn’t had somebody really close to him in ages, he will be very clingy and overprotective. The world has the habit of robbing him, so you won’t allow you to be stolen as well. Not to forget that he is a man of action – being passive or also relying on words to solve situations just isn’t his style. 

Your skin was on fire due to his ministrations, or rather because of the disgust they evoked. The arm around your waist that pressed you against him made you want to claw at his skin and his lips against the tender skin of your neck made you want to throttle him.

Yet you knew that it was just wishful thinking. Engaging in such protest would be futile since he was stronger and quicker than you.

“Look here Levi, I told you…”, you tried to reason with him but he just silenced your objection:

“Shush, sweetheart. Don’t ruin the moment.”

Then he resumed kissing your neck and collar bone, sometimes tugging at your skin with teeth in order to cause bruises. You tensed as his free hand snaked down your leg and hooked itself under your knee.

The captain is a military man and fairly intelligent. He knows how to deal with an enemy, how to assess their strengths and weaknesses and how to keep them contained. And also, how to best combat them and capture them. He really is the worst opponent you could meet on the battlefield.

So how to evade him? You take him off the battlefield, place him in a situation where aggression can’t help him achieve his goals. He is a military man, as said before, so he is accustomed to low context communication – words must be direct, and you must mean what you say so that they are no muck-ups. Little conversation and more orders and demands. Levi doesn’t have a silver tongue to begin with, quite the contrary actually.

That means he cares a bit for codes, since they are of use to him in his branch of expertise. But he cares little for symbolism since he has categorised that as sappy nonsense reserved for romantics. So, you have an avenue to express yourself that he won’t catch up on unless somebody explicitly told him what it meant. Consider yourself lucky, it is exactly this that will prevent you from going insane.

“Flowers? Again?”, he gruffly asked.

It made you look up from the novel you were reading to see him eyeing the tansy and peonies that you had placed in a vase on the nightstand.

You had to suppress a smirk and work to keep the self-satisfaction out of your voice as you meekly inquired: “They are there to give a bit more colour to the room. I can always put them away if you want.”

You were being obedient to him for a change and that was why he decided to allow you a few luxuries. Besides, since you were so affectionate in the past two months, why shouldn't he return it with gestures of his own.

“Keep them. I’ll just never understand why you like them so much”, he answered and then stalked over to the bathroom. Of course he would never comprehend it, with his spartan and austere tastes, just like you would never understand that the small yellow flowers meant ‘I declare war on you!’ or that the orange lilies that had been there a few days ago actually proclaimed your hatred for him.

Hopefully, he would never find out.

Intelligence doesn’t automatically mean that he is omnipotent or that he is an all-powerful overlord. It just means that he is quick to comprehend tactics and strategies and devise his own. He isn’t immune to mistakes. So, when he ropes you in, in his games, you have to play a wholly different game of your own if you want to get out. Military, remember? There are many walks of life that he is unfamiliar with, many possibilities for you to escape his clutches that he wouldn’t even account for.

Giddily, you smiled at yourself in the mirror. You barely recognized yourself, with all the paint and heavy cloth that decorated your body. Levi didn’t either, just how it was supposed to be.

You had spotted him in the audience as you had pranced about the stage, looking very disgruntled at not having you by his side or locked up in his quarters. Even you had heard the rumours of how a few days ago he had flown into a frenzy, searching high and low for something.

You were one of the few that knew it was someone and that someone was you. Knowing him as well as you did, you made the fair guess that he also wasn’t here by his own volition, rather his comrades had dragged him here in an attempt to distract him.

And you also knew that had looked everywhere he presumed you to be – in the forest, somewhere tucked away in his estate, in the taverns and at the city borders and at the docks. Just not amongst the theatre troop.

That would probably stay that way, and you could use the opportunity to escape him.  

Adding to the fact that he is bad at expressing himself like a normal human being, he is also very emotional underneath that stoic veneer. In combat situations, he has an outlet for all his pent-up emotions. Else you have to suffer his outbursts and mood swings. Nonetheless, the world isn’t a gigantic battlefield and if the right buttons are pushed, he could lose it at exactly the wrong time and place. Levi would lose badly at the game favoured in the royal courts of provoking-the-other-until-they-embarrass-themselves.

Levi was very close to unleashing his unholy rage and as a precaution, you had taken to stepping out of range. While you found the whole situation very amusing, you didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire.

“…however, since you come short on some things, I don’t expect you to understand that. Should I repeat what I said, in bitesize chunks  so that you don’t lag behind this time”, the nobleman prattled while he looked down on your “lover”.

Said man pressed through gritted teeth: “You filthy swine, go stuff all your pretty words up your ass.”

The noble emitted a fake gasp and murmured aghast: “You really are so crass. The rumours of you being a dwarf barbarian are true.”

That was the last straw for Levi. In the following minutes, a small crowd gathered to see what the commotion was all about and it ended in the guards having to restrain him. Really, it was hypocritical of the Ackerman to threaten you about causing a scene when he was the one prone to temper tantrums.

[what-the--curtains]

Not A Piece of Art

(Javier Peña x f!reader)

Part 3/5 - Don’t Fall In Love with Me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: Lines are crossed as you and Peña work to convince the targets of your unions legitimacy.

Rating: 18+ DNI If underage I will block u (don’t try me) , smut (ish?), fingering (woman receiving), swearing

Authors notes: whoop okay y’all, pretty new to *smut* so I’m trying my best please be kind with ur criticisms! Anyways this is a long one I hope you enjoy it!! Thank you for all the kind words and support you guys are awesome💕💕

Word count: 6.4k

Tagged: @trash-dino-5000 @diogodxlot @agingerindenial

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Week 2

Sharing the massive California king bed with Javi was less of a palava than you’d expected. It was large enough that you were able to achieve a comfortable distance from him by sleeping on the bed's precipice. Despite your assumption that his annoying personality would carry over into sleep, he was actually the ideal person to share a room with. He fell asleep quickly, hardly moved and most importantly he didn't snore. As the week progressed your sharp edges began to smooth out, helping to relieve the tension making your living situation infinitely more tolerable. You’d relaxed into him slightly, your jaw no longer locking in fury when he so much as entered into your periphery. The surprising nature of the change was only overshadowed by the morning when he’d woken up to your leg wrapped around his waist and his own hand running absentmindedly up and down your thigh. Sometime during the night, and by no volition of your own, you’d maneuvered your way into his arms. Javi wasn’t sure what was more unbelievable, how peaceful you looked while near him or how he hadn’t immediately pushed you off him. The pyjamas you’d been wearing in an attempt to keep your body hidden had failed. Your basketball shorts had ridden up and the Ramones shirt that was obviously an ex-boyfriends had been pushed up by Javis hand during the night. He chuckles, when a faint snore escapes your lips, noting the irony of the situation considering you'd threatened to suffocate him if he so much as made a sound in the night. He wonders if you always looked this way in the morning, he’d never paid attention until he was trapped under you, his heart begins to race as your hand begins circling lightly on his chest. Not wanting you to wake up and see him staring down at you like some kind of stalker he quickly, but gently, rolls you onto your stomach. Besides, domesticity wasn’t an area he was comfortable with, and it definitely wasn’t on his to do list. Especially not with you.

The sound of the bathroom door shutting followed by water splashing onto the tiled floor wakes you up. You swallow, lick your lips and groan into the pillow, not wanting to spend another day living a facade. You roll over, realizing you’d once again shifted into the center of the bed during the night. You groan as you roll out of bed knowing the midday heat that was slowly creeping into frame would be followed shortly by the humidity. Your feet hit the marbled floor, cooling you down instantly as you walk towards the closet that could easily double as a second bedroom, choosing something light and airy to prevent you from sweating profusely. You brush the taste of morning out of your mouth before heading into the kitchen, where you're greeted by the smell of freshly brewed coffee, a mug of which is handed to you by the DEA agent, who was giving you a once over.

“Thanks,” you say, taking the mug and sitting down at the kitchen table.

“I have to ask you a question.” Javi says, once he was sure you had been sufficiently caffeinated.

“Should I be afraid?” you ask, narrowing your eyes as you take another sip of the coffee.

“What's your issue with me?” He asks outright.

“Too early to get into this.” you murmur.

“It's 11 but fine, keep your secrets. How about this one you spoon Steve when the two of you use too...” he stops, making an obscene gesture with his hand causing you to look over to him in disgust.

��What?” you ask, confused by more than one of those statements. His confidence dissipates, as he raises his hands up, shifting into defensive mode.

“I’ve never slept with Steve! Did he tell you we did? That’s so fucked up!” you start, face riddled with anger.

“No he never…” Javi tried to explain.

“Then why the fuck would think that!” you exasperate, throwing your hand up in the air, eyes wide waiting for his response.

“I saw you leave his room when we were on that case out of town” He blurts out, hands still up, further away from you than when the conversation had started.

“Ya! I slept on his couch because of you!” you exclaim.

“Me?” he asks, now more confused than ever.

“Yes! Well I guess technically by the women loudly proclaiming there satisfaction with your performance”

“Is that why you hate me? Because I kept you awake for a few nights” he laughs, unable to accept something so minor had resulted in the fiery feud between the two of you.

“One of many reasons” you retort, drawing out the ‘many’, to justify your grudge.

“Can't control what women do when i’m with them, Cariño .” he says, still in disbelief that something so small was the root of your hatred.

“You know it's fake right?” you say, cocking an eyebrow “Like you don’t actually think that it's real? you may be good but there's no way you're that good. Believe me i've been that person before and not to hurt your ego but...”

“No definitely not trying anything” he says, cutting you off. You were currently giving him more and more reason to hate you. He’d have a better reason for it than you currently did, you continuously treated him like shit, and for something so stupid. Enraged, and pride slightly shot, he grabs the remainder off his coffee and a pack of cigarettes heading out to the balcony to cool off. He lights his cigarette and leans out onto the railing, staring over to the mansion where you were being watched. He can’t let you get to him like that, it was too risky, there was already one hot head in this duo, it didn't need another. Taking a long drag of the cigarette he calls you over, and to his surprise you oblige. Guess you could be compliant when you wanted to be.

“They’re watching” he says as you enter onto the balcony. You lean back onto the railing looking up at him confused.

“This whole wall is made of glass, we need to make sure it's turned on whenever they can see us,” he explains. You hated to admit it, but he was right, this act needed to become more permanent. The pained look evident on your face, as you accept your fate causes Javi to smile. Suddenly endeared by your expressiveness, at least he never had to wonder what you were thinking. He wraps his arms around you pulling you into him, for a tight embrace as he rubs his hand down your back. The tension leaves your body, despite his flaws Peña was an excellent hugger. You decided to try and say one good thing about him everyday until this whole fiasco was over and you never had to put up with each other again.

“I’m going to go down to the beach” you say, knowing the ocean was the one place that could keep you calm. Your rage absorbed by the waves, breaking as they crashed into the rocks of the shoreline. You change into an overly revealing one piece before heading down to shore barefoot, happy to have some time away from the confinement of your shoes and the house. You lay the towel out on rock with your cover up prepared to let the water wash over you when you hear your name called. You turn to see Helena spread out on the sand like a cover girl, tilting her oversized sunglasses down as she beckons you over.

“How are you settling in?”

“Better than expected” you say smiling, sitting down on the sand next to her.

“You're lying to me..” she says causing your stomach to drop “glass walls we see everything the two of you have been fighting non-stop.”

“Must it be like having free tv?” you laugh, “The fights are my fault, since the move, i've lost my edge. I haven’t painted anything good in months and I’ve been taking it out on him”

“Hmmm” she hums out, eyes scanning yours, looking for a crack to pry into.

“What?” you ask softly.

“You almost have me convinced, but there's something I can't quite explain, something is amiss between the two of you. What secrets do you harbour? I’d love to know”

“None,” you pause for a moment contemplating your next move carefully, “at least none that involve him” you say eyes meeting her’s she raises her eyebrows and puts her sunglasses back on, seemingly satisfied for now, or simply having lost interest. She stands up, grabbing her towel and book.

“We’re scheduled to have a few new pieces arrive this week, you should come see them once they arrive. Bring your husband. Carlos would be thrilled to see him as would I. Shall we say this coming Saturday?” she asks.

“I’ll have to check, but that would be lovely.” You watch her leave, before standing up and brushing the sand off your ass. You make your way over to the shallows and dive beneath the water. Javi watches from the windowsill as your figure disappears beneath the waves, a strange feeling of concern staying with him until he sees you resurface.

You plod back up to the house as the sun begins to set, not wanting to get stuck out after dark. You walk into the house and the smell of something fills your nostrils, was he cooking? You take a quick shower before returning to the kitchen to see a very disgruntled looking Javi who had evidently made an effort to cook for you both as a gesture of good faith.

“Smells good” you say, you weren't going to criticize him for actually trying to be a better roommate.

“Probably the only thing about it that's good” he grumbles sitting down across from you.

“Well this is not as bad as I thought” you say the food was actually edible, but that was really as much credit he’d be getting.

“Thank you”

“For what?” you respond.

“Lying to spare my feelings” he says.

“ First off I'd never lie to protect your ego and secondly, well I appreciate the effort, you’ve now proven to me that you really can't cook, so I will start cooking for you as well.” you offer

“Thank god” he says, standing up and heading over to the sink.

“I'll wash up, you cooked” you say nudging him out the way so you can get to the sink. He drops the dishes, willing to let you take over, standing at the counter watching you as you clean.

“ She thinks there is something off about us, Helena, I saw her at the beach, she practically said we weren't who we were pretending to be.” you state, turning back to see if he’s listening. “Probably not helped by the fighting I suppose” you admit.

“Probably not.” Javi says.

“Oh and we're going to theres for dinner later this week, the tests came back positive so drugs are definitely coming into contact with the paintings. You need to get him to ask us to make him a fake copy, or at least to admit he’s sending fakes.”

“Begs the question, where are the real things?” he asks.

“Who knows. Gotta be somewhere, he’d have to own them so that when they get mailed it doesn't look sketchy.”

“Mhmm,” he says absentmindedly.

“Hey, are you listening to me?” You ask whipping the towel at his head, noticing he's checked out completely.

“What?” he says, forehead creased, still looking concerned.

“What are you thinking about?”

“About how to convince them that we are... you know… together… physically” he states cautiously.

“Well maybe we only do it in the bedroom, or maybe we don’t do it all? Relatioships dont need to have sex.” you explain.

“No, but I may have suggested that we do it frequently and everywhere” he says sheepishly, eyes on the counter.

“Great” you sigh. “Well, go on, sounds like you have a suggestion.” you continue tilting your head as you continue to dry a pan.

“It's an indecent proposal, but a proposal nonetheless” he draws out.

“Don’t beat around the bush, Peña, get to the point” you say, turning the dish back on the rack.

“I think we could stage what would be considered the beginning stages of it, well within their view without it being obvious”

“Where? In the living room?”

“Yes, but we’d move to the bedroom before anything serious happened” he swallows, prepared for any reaction.

“Alright,” you sigh “but no mouth kissing” he laughs “What?”

“No mouth kissing? How old are you?”

“Shut up!” you say, going to punch him in the arm, but he grabs your wrist rubbing his thumb over it, smiling when you get flustered, pulling away quickly.

The next morning he finds you in the bathroom, hair pulled back out of your face as an exasperated groan escapes your lips.

“You don’t have to put makeup on for me” he smirks, just when you were starting to find him tolerable he went and did something that made your blood boil.

“I’m not putting makeup on” you, murmur. A half lie, you were currently in the throes of trying to artfully create fake hickeys on your neck.

“They're not usually sparkly, you know,” he remarks, smiling as your jaw clenches slightly and your nose scrunches up.

“Ugh, you think I don’t know that! “ You say, grabbing a towel and rubbing the skin raw.

“Don’t worry I’ll leave some tonight” he states.

“You know we're not actually...” you assure looking at him through the mirror.

“I'm well aware, but I want them to look real, nothing intrusive scouts honour” he says holding his hand over his heart.

“Please Peña we both know you're anything but a boy scout. You realize you’ll need some as well.” you state,

“Deal” he says, grinning and raising his eyebrows. Had he just gotten exactly what he wanted? You stand in the bathroom, brows knitted and lips parted as you try and figure out the answer.

It’s after dinner and you stand in the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror. The racy lingerie you had chosen was hitting every curvature of your body perfectly. You want to cover yourself up. Showing your body to someone new was always nerve wracking, even if this was simply an act you still had a sinking feeling in your stomach. A feeling brought on by the deeply rooted fear of disappointing someone.

You pull on a sheer robe with a faint gold floral pattern, it didn’t cover you up much, but it did make you feel less vulnerable. You pull on the high heels that match the lingerie, thanking god that you only had to walk a few meters to your destination.

The distinct clack of high heel on marble causes Javier's head to turn. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you striding down the hall. He shifts in his seat biting his tongue to distract from the current urges he was feeling. He reminds himself that none of this was real and that he had to keep his cool. You already despised him for being an ass, he didn't want you adding pervert to the list of things you currently hated about him. He leans forward, tapping his cigarette on the ashtray, swallowing hard as you come to stand before him. His eyes move slowly up your body to meet your gaze, but your eyes are looking over him. He puts out the cigarette and places his hands on your hips roughly pulling you down onto his lap. His hands ease up and down your back venturing only as far as the contract would allow.

“What no snarky comment?” you say finally looking down to meet his deep brown eyes.

“Nothing to complain about from my end” he murmurs, his hands rubbing over your calves.

“Gross” you whisper

“Que me estas haciendo hermosa”’ “What are you doing to me sweetheart?” he asks, momentarily forgetting you knew how to speak Spanish.

“What was that?” you say enjoying the power you currently had over the usually cocky agent, who was seemingly in trance. He opens his mouth to say something but before he can get a word in you place a kiss on his jaw line. His mouth hangs open as you begin to trail kisses down his neck. You stop beside a prominent vein caused by his jaw being so tightly clenched. You graze your teeth over the area before biting down on the tanned skin. He thanks himself for deciding to wear jeans and not something thinner, feeling himself strain against the fabric. His grip on your waist becomes vice like when you begin to suck on the area you’d just marked. The soft moan that Javi unwillingly emits takes you by surprise causing you to giggle.

The laugh awakens something in Javi and he growls as he stands up, taking you with him. You wrap your legs around him to steady yourself as he buries his head in your neck. You inhale sharply as he latches onto your skin, immediately locating a sensitive spot. Your head goes back as he nips at the area, biting your lip not wanting to give him the satisfaction. You move your hands through his hair pulling it so he detaches from you, dark eyes staring into your own before quickly moving to your collarbone. He bites down causing you to buck into him, and you could practically feel him smirk into your skin as he moves down to your chest, working overtime to get some kind of noise from you.He drops you onto the couch causing your hair to fall in front of your face, as you work to steady your breathing. You understood why he was sent to get information from women, despite your constant attempts to belittle him, there was no denying that he knew what he was doing.He kneels down in front of you and pushes your legs open.

“Peña” you warn.

“Just marks, I promise” he says and you give him the go ahead. He kisses above your knee before working his way along your inner thighs stopping just before the hem of your underwear staying there long enough to convince anyone watching that he was tending to your needs. You're sure he can see your arousal, despite your attempts to hide it when his teeth had grazed against your inner thigh your body betrayed you. You could feel yourself slowly soaking through the thin fabric. You pull his head back and he pushes himself up onto his elbow positioning his body over you.

“Think they've seen enough?” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Probably” he says, if he was a worse man he would have lied and gone back down between your thighs, silently hoping you’d allow him to venture further. His hands pull you into him and your arms wrap around his neck as he lifts you up again, walking you both towards the bedroom. You tried to keep your crotch away from his torso, fearful that you'd leave a stain on his shirt, you’d never live it down if he found out. He stops once more in the kitchen propping you in the counter to mark your neck up a bit more, when you try to squirm your hips away from him he digs his fingers into your skin locking you in place. He pulls you off the counter and carries you into the bedroom, mouth still attached to your skin, willing to take this as far as you would allow.

“Stop” you whisper, pulling yourself out of the situation. Immediately he removes his mouth and drops you onto the bed where you fall with a slight bounce. He walks over to the closet grabbing some sleepwear.

“You want to use the bathroom first or?” he asks as if nothing had just happened.

“No, I just need to brush my teeth, you go ahead.” you lie, knowing full well you had to wipe yourself clean as well.

Javi shuts the door making sure it locked before he growls in frustration, he’d half hoped you wouldn't have stopped him. He thought you’d been enjoying what he was doing, most women did and he knew fucking the rage out of you would feel phenomenal. Maybe women were just that good at faking it, though he swore he could make out a wet patch seeping through your lingerie. His cock, which had been at half mast since you walked into view, had been straining painfully against his jeans for the past 10 minutes. He groans as he finally frees it, contemplating wrapping his hand around it and fixing the problem right now, but he can’t risk you hearing him. He turns on the shower instead, letting it run cold before stepping into it. He walks out 30 minutes later to find you passed out on the bed, the soft snoring that was slowly growing on him filling the room. He crawls under the covers, waiting patiently for you to find your way over to him. Even in the dark he can see his handiwork beginning to take shape, he smiles knowing he’d left them there, only wishing the scumbags back at the office could see them, so they’d finally stop pestering you.

“God I feel like I'm in highschool again” you say running your hands over your neck.

“What the fuck were you doing in highschool?” Javie laughs. How the hell had you gotten out of it looking like a mosaic while he’d only got stuck with the few you’d managed to leave on his neck.

“Come here” you say, watching as he gets out of bed, it was one of the rare mornings that you’d actually woken up before him.

“Why?” he asks stretching as he shifts out of bed leaning his elbows on his knees as he reaches for a cigarette

“I've got to scratch your back up a bit, and don’t smoke in the bedroom!” you chastise.

“Really?” he asks, walking towards you leaving the unlit cigarette in his mouth.

“Ya look at these nails? They leave marks,” you say wiggling your fingers in front of his face. He stops in front of you allowing you to hook your hands under his arm to get to his back. Apparently, Peña was most compliant when he'd just woken up and before his coffee. Slowly, you rake your painted nails down his back causing an involuntary growl to come out.

“You all done?” he mumbles

“Yup” you respond

Week 3

The following days fly by and it's not long before it's time for you to go to your neighbours for dinner again. The bruises on your skin left by Peñas skillful mouth were still prevalent, but now in the unflattering healing process. You walk into the kitchen in another lingerie set, having taken to walking around half naked now Javi had already seen you in such and you no longer considered him a threat. He’d demonstrated his ability to understand basic consent by not forcing you to continue after you'd told him to stop. A low bar, but still one that wasn't crossed. You scoot up onto the counter and he hands you a coffee running his hands up and down your thighs as you take a sip.

“They still watching?” you sign out, annoyed at having someone in your personal space so early in the morning.

“I think so, I've seen a few people move in and out the house, a couple of cars driving up as well, but they've gone now. Wonder if they've got a new piece come in, maybe something you can copy for them.” he says.

“Ya Helena had mentioned something about new arrivals. Think I'll get to see it tonight?” you yawn, as he flicks his lighter failing at getting a flame to appear.

“Hopefully” he grunts, you grab the cigarette from his lips, placing it between your own before taking the lighter and getting it in one. You take a drag as he kisses your neck before taking the cigarette back from you and heading out onto the balcony.

“Welcome!” Carlos booms opening the door to you both, embracing Javi and kissing you on the cheek. “She's more beautiful with every passing day, though I did prefer her skin when it was all one colour” Carlos remarks, raising his brows to Javi in congratulations.

“I can get overzealous,” he laughs.

“A need to mark his property, it's what men do isn't it Cariño ?” he says looking at you as you force a smile.

“Hello, apologies I was in the washroom” Helena says making her way down the staircase. Peña takes the moment to wrap himself around you biting gently on your earlobe.

“Helena perfect timing, take Melanie to the bar, get her a drink, I need an opinion from her husband.”

“You look at her as if you’ve never been with her before, full of wonderment.” Carlos says closing the door to his office and gesturing for Javier to sit on the significantly shorter chair as he takes his place in front of the large oak desk.

“The beauty of loving an artist, they wear many different faces, everyday she's new to me. How can I be of assistance?” he asks.

“That is the wrong question. Can you be of assistance? I believe you to be genuine, but my wife is neurotic, you know how they are. She seems to think you and your wife are not who you say you are. She’s suspicious after a recent unpleasantness with the previous residents of your home, you see.”

“Who can blame her. Many people have questioned our relationship, they think someone like her would only be with me for one reason. But I know the truth, even if the rest of the world doesn't” Javi explains. Helena was smarter than her husband, thank god she wasn't in here with them. He’s sure she’d see through him.

“That's what I believe as well, so by asking you this I put myself in a very precarious position. One I hope you will appreciate. I will not share the details but I need your wifes services.” Carlos states,

“I don't think she would be comfortable…” Javi starts, playing up his incompetence.

“Ha, not those kinds of services though I would not pass up the opportunity. You say she can make copies of art?”

“Yes.”

“Can she recreate this,” he asks, pulling out a photo of a painting in a local museum. Not famous enough to draw attention, but well known enough to not be handled by too many people as it passed through security.

“I'll have to ask her, but I don’t see it being an issue” he says

“Have her do it, drop it off when she's done.” He demands.

“I assume her name won't be attached to this, if anything happens”

“Of course not, we keep our friends safe.”

“Good” Javi nods his head slowly sucking on his teeth as he rises from the chair.

After dinner Helena and Carlos excuse themselves. Leaving you along with Javi,

“I have to pee, I'll be back” you say, standing up and trying to find the bathroom you’d used the last time you were here. You find yourself lost, but you follow the sounds of raised voices, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“You have involved them too soon they cannot be trusted!” Helena whisper yells

“Helena you’ve truly lost your mind this time, did you see the marks on her neck between her legs, how do you explain those?” he says slamming his fists onto the desk.

“Marks can be manufactured, they mean nothing! If we go down it's your fault” she says through gritted teeth.

“If they so much as step a toe out of line, i'll kill them both myself”

“Watch them tonight, she recoils slightly at his touch before settling in, somethings off, I know it.” She states

“Do not presume to tell me how to run this business, and do not blame me for your over emotional outburst again, you know what happens when you stop serving your intended purpose” He spits.

You quickly turn, not wanting to stick around any longer, the sound of there not so silently yells drowning out the clack of heels as you scurry back down the hall. Javi, who had gone out in search of you after you failed to return, is winded as you almost slam into him. He looks down to see a very obvious look of distress on your face. He pulls you into the bathroom locking the door behind him.

“What?” he asks, shaking his head.

“What yourself?” you spit back, despite the confident tone he can see that you’re shaking. He places his hands on your shoulders, thumbs gently rubbing circles helping to calm you down. “they're not buying it” you say, if you didn't get it together you’d both be screwed.

“You can't go back out there like this they'll know.” he murmurs, unsure how to stop you from going into a complete meltdown. He should have better prepared you for the psychological trauma of being undercover.

“I’m sorry, i'm going to blow this.” you say, the first time he’d gotten an apology from you.

“I have an idea, but you stop me if you...” he starts

“Do what you have to.” you say, needing to forget what you’d just heard, not waiting to end up in a body bag.

He lifts you up onto the granite countertop between the two sinks shifting up the thin material of your dress up as he does. He pulls down your underwear, stuffing it into one of his pockets as he pushes your knees apart taking a moment to take in the view. He makes quick work of putting his mouth on you. Sucking down on the already sensitive skin, you emit a loud moan, unable to mask how good the pain felt. His hand moves over your mouth.

“Shhh, baby we can't be too loud” he murmurs into your skin as his hand slips the strap off your shoulder exposing your breasts. He massages it intermittently pinching your nipple until it buds while his mouth works away at your neck. You go to move your thighs together, desperate to create some friction when he bites down on your collarbone, but he uses his leg to keep them separated. He runs his hand down your body. You whimper slightly as he slowly drags a single digit up and down your slick folds gathering up your juices.

“Maybe those women weren’t as fake as you thought.” He says, his mouth attaching to your exposed nipple, preventing you from responding.

“What was that “ he asks, smugly slowly circling around your clit as he sinks two fingers into you. He feels you clench around him when he grazes up against your most sensitive area.

“Jesus your fucking tight” he half moans into your neck as he begins to slowly pump his thick digits in and out, his thumb continuously circling around your swollen clit. You arch your back in an attempt to get him deeper inside you, encouraging him to pump faster, curling his fingers to apply pressure to your g-spot. His mouth goes back to your breast and he bites down on your nipple causing you to whine out desperately.

“Are you faking it now?” he asks, smirking down at you, you don’t know why but the cockiness was doing it for you. Unable to respond you close your eyes and throw your head back. He hears your breath get shorter, and he feels your walls begin to flutter around him. You clench down on his hand as you climax, his hand covering your mouth stopping any noise from reverberating out of the bathroom. He leaves his hand over your mouth until he feels your breathing calm, his thumb running over your cheek bone as he does. He brings the hand down to your throat squeezing it gently as he reluctantly removes his fingers from the warmth of your pussy. He bites his tongue when he hears the disappointed huff leave your lips at the loss of his hand. You watch as he washes his hands and exits the bathroom leaving you to deal with the mess he’d made.

“Excuse us, my wife she gets emotional somethime, things come over her, you know how women can be.” he explains to Carlos and Helena who had been waiting in the bar for who knows how long. You appear behind him flustered, hair messed dress slightly askew, new marks already forming on your neck. Helena looks impressed, Carlos looks surprised, your appearance made it clear as to what had just happened in their bathroom. A fact made even more obvious by your underwear which was currently hanging out one of his pockets. You quickly go up and stuff it deep down the extreme embarrassment you currently felt had completely overtaken the fear of being killed. Had he planned this?

“Emotional, is that what they're calling it these days” Carlos asks, shooting Helena an ‘I told you so’ look. At least one of them was convinced.

As you walk back into your house you bend over taking off your shoes, snapping up immediately when you remember you weren't wearing any underwear. You were dreading the inevitable bragging that was sure to come. You remind yourself that it wasn't really you in that bathroom. It was your character, you didn't cum for Javi, Melanie Alvirez did. You still still hated him.

“He wants you to paint him a copy of this” Peña says, coming up behind you, sliding the photo into your view.

“He trusts us?” you ask, looking up at him.

“Not enough to tell me what it's for, but after that little performance I think he may just tell us what's going on. One last thing.” He says shifting out of his jacket, losing the tie around his neck. “Don’t fall for me,” he says.

“Oh please” you laugh, embarrassment replaced by annoyance.

“Seriously, It wouldn’t be the first time” he brags

“You may be good looking Peña, but you're not a piece of art, so get over yourself” you dig.

“Meaning?” He questions, still smiling.

“Pretty, but lacking depth” you say, returning a fake smile.

“So you think im good looking and good at fucking?’ he continues, hoping to rile you up.

“When did I ever say I thought you were good at fucking?” you ask, fully prepeared to knock his ego back down after accidentally inflating it.

“Your right didn’t say it, moaned it” he emphasizes leaning over the counter.

“Congratulations Peña you know where a woman's clit is! Would you like a round of applause, maybe a participation ribbon, a plaque reading ‘man does the bare minimum’?”

“You’re seriously tryna tell me it wasn’t good?” now you were just making him angry, reactions don’t lie. He’d watched your face, every breath, every bite of your lip as you tried to stop yourself from screaming his name. He knew you'd enjoyed it, he felt you clench around him, felt you soak his fingers.

“No, I'm telling you that you're not ‘screaming through the walls loud’ good!” His teeth are gritted and his nostrils flare as he throws his hands up in the air, heading towards the bedroom. He needed to get away from you. Not wanting to throw you down on the closest surface and show you just how good he could be.

You watch as he storms off into the bedroom, your shoulders deflate and for the first time you consider that maybe you’d gone too far. You’d been trying to piss him off, trying to hurt his feelings, and you’d overstepped. Especially considering you weren’t exactly being truthful. Was he good? Yes. Did you have to take more time than you'd care to admit getting yourself together afterwards? Maybe. Were you curious to know if he could actually make you scream? Absolutely. But he also wasn’t the first guy to leave you feeling that way. It was good but it wasn’t ‘scream it from the rooftops’ good. You wonder if he was even trying, or if he wasn’t invested in your pleasure just giving you enough to make it look believable for the neighbours. The thought leaves you even more interested in his full abilities in the bedroom, not that you'd ever tell anyone that, or that you'd ever do it. You wait an hour or so before going into the bedroom and falling asleep.

In an attempt to clear the air you make breakfast the next morning. Javi appears from the front door, he’d been down to the beach early in an attempt to get you out of his head. He sits down at the bar furiously trying to get his lighter to start up. He sees your hand appear, not looking up he hands you the lighter and lets you pluck the cigarette from his mouth lighting it up in one, before offering it back to him. A moment later a delicious looking breakfast appears beneath him finally causing him to look up.

“Look, I took it too far last night and i'm sorry if I said...” you start

“Save it” Javi says, tucking into the food before him “nothing to apologize for if you were telling the truth.” the use of the word ‘if’ irks you the wrong way, but you let it slide. “besides, it's not like it matters, I only put work in for the women who actually want me”

“Fair enough” you say snorting, causing him to look to you again

“What?” he asks, trying to maintain his scowl, but failing upon hearing the unrefined sound come out of you.

“Your bedside manner never fails to delight me” you say cleaning up the dishes “i'll take this as im forgiven” you nod to the plate that was now empty.

“For what? No offense sweetheart, I don’t take much stock in others' opinions of me.” You did admire that about him, he really didn’t care what others thought about him. You marked that down as his good quality for the day.

[dothwrites]

15.13 coda--the price we pay

So it’s true, when all is said and done--grief is the price we pay for love.--E.A. Bucchianeri

---

Jack’s door closes with a small snick. Castiel watches it close. The thin barrier of wood separates him from his boy, but it doesn’t keep away the muffled sounds of sobs and sniffles. 

The moment had lasted an eternity, Jack looking at Dean through tear-bright eyes, begging for forgiveness, Dean staring back down at Jack, his jaw set and eyes gimlet hard. Dean feels things more deeply than anyone else, Castiel had told Jack. He’d meant it. Joy, anger, guilt...Dean feels, so much all of the time, that it spills out onto anyone else who gets in his way. 

What he hadn’t told Jack was that that was the reason that he loved Dean. Was because he felt. As an angel, a being who was never intended for emotion, the sight of a human soul, writhing with emotion so bright that it managed to shine through hell, was enough to captivate him. He’d been drawn towards Dean, helpless as a moth towards flame, and there he’d stayed, caught in Dean’s orbit. There he weathers the tempest of Dean’s anger as well as the brightness of his joy. 

And he’s had time, firsthand, to experience to balm of Dean’s forgiveness. 

Dean’s hand had descended towards Jack and Castiel had hated Jack’s flinch. Hated it for Jack, hated it for Dean. He knew that that flinch hurt Dean, reinforced what Dean had suspected all along--that he was nothing but a brute, nothing but a monster. 

But Dean’s hand had landed on Jack’s shoulder, just a moment before Dean was on his knees, pulling Jack into a fierce embrace. “It’s ok kid,” he said, voice thick and gravel-rough. “You’re ok.” 

Sam had knelt alongside them, his long arms wrapping up Jack and Dean alike, and Castiel...His work was done, in a sense. He’d facilitated Jack’s return to the Winchesters, seen his soul restored. Gotten one step closer to the ultimate goal. So Castiel had taken a few small steps out of the room, silently. No one had seen him go, no one had noticed his presence, until Dean and Sam walked out. Sam’s eyes were glassy, his face flushed. Dean’s mouth was flat, but there was something calm and peaceful in his eyes, something that had been missing for long weeks. 

Anger takes a toll on the soul. 

And then they’d walked away, leaving Jack’s door to close behind them. And Castiel watches--Watches his boy deal with the pain of his actions, watches the Winchesters walk away. After a moment, Castiel follows. 

Dean glances up when he enters the room. Something hard glints at him. It reminds Castiel of the pain of the word idiot when it comes from Dean’s lips, the curling realization that no matter his contribution, he’ll never be valued. 

Castiel is still a soldier, first and foremost. He understands the necessity of sacrifice, knows that in chess, sometimes you have to lose pieces in order to win. 

He just wishes that Dean would care a little more when he’s finally taken off the board. 

---

Cas looks at him with wide eyes and Dean knows that they’re going to have to talk. Probably sooner than later, judging by the stubborn little purse to his mouth. Dean takes another sip from his beer (those bastards drank them down to almost nothing, greedy little sons of bitches) and luxuriates in the swallow. He’ll put off this conversation as long as he can. 

He still doesn’t know, how to put all the concern that he feels, the worry that continuously scrabbles at the inside of his skull, into words that don’t spit and fizzle like poison. He’d seen the minute little flinch in Cas’ face when he said idiot, just like he’d seen the Jack’s flinch when he reached out towards him. He’s doing better, he’s trying, but what the hell does it say about him that the people that he loves best in the world literally draw back from him? 

“I’m going to bed,” Sam says, his voice still scratchy and rough. Dean knows that the deal with Jack hit him hard, but there’s something else there too. Sam’s continuous glances at his phone tell a fairly convincing story. No doubt there’s a series of texts from Eileen waiting for him. 

Which would be fine, Dean’s all aboard the good ship Saileen, except that Sam’s departure leaves him alone with Cas. And Cas isn’t leaving or starting the conversation, which means that he’s going to leave Dean to deal with this whole mess. 

The silence between them takes on a distinctly stony feel the longer they sit in it. It’s so damned uncomfortable sitting in it, yet breaking it would somehow be worse. Dean will give it to Cas--he’s a passive-aggressive little shit when he wants to be. 

After the quiet becomes so uncomfortable that Dean’s teeth are itching, he finally decides to rip the band-aid off in one, vicious tug. 

“It was a damn stupid thing, what you did.” 

He didn’t mean it to sound like that, he really didn’t. But his intentions are worthless--the words fall harsh and flat between them, like little loaded weapons. Whatever softness might have been lurking in Cas is gone. 

“It was the only way to get what we needed.” Cas’ voice is tight with repressed emotion, but the words are enough to spark a wildfire in Dean. 

“It was the only--what the fuck man?” he spits. He stands up, his chair skittering backwards across the floor. Its feet scrape against the wood, loud enough to send the hairs rising on Dean’s arms, but he ignores that in favor of focusing on Cas. 

“The only way was to go and get yourself killed? Again?” 

Try as he might, he can’t erase the image--Cas, slumped motionless in the chair, face gone that particular shade of pale and waxy that Dean knows and wishes that he didn’t. How many times has he been forced to watch Cas die, right in front of him? How many times has he said goodbye? And they’ve been lucky--for every goodbye, there’s always been a Hello Dean waiting, but Winchesters aren’t known for their luck. How long before it runs out? How long before Cas does something so monumentally reckless that there’s no coming back from it? 

How long before Dean has to say goodbye permanently? 

“It wasn’t like that--” 

“It was exactly like that!” Dean’s anxiety and worry spills out of him in a vicious tirade. “Sam and I come back, find you--”

“So you’re the only one who can take pointless risks?” Castiel is standing now, and there’s a dangerous, sharp edge in his voice that Dean should probably heed, but he’s too far gone for that. 

“That’s different--” Though it really isn’t, the difference is that Dean is just...Dean, just some schmuck who doesn’t have a trust fund, who doesn’t know any life other than that which cakes blood and dirt underneath his nails. He doesn’t matter, not in the long run. But Castiel...Castiel is made of stardust and the cosmos. It would be a sin, if Dean were left on the world while Castiel ceased to exist. 

For a moment Cas is speechless with rage. Then he’s striding over to Dean, pushing an angry finger into his chest, so hard that Dean’s sure there will be small, circular bruises blooming over his skin within the next day or so. 

“How dare you? How dare you assume that everyone...that I would be fine without you? How dare you think so little of yourself?” 

Dean laughs, a wretched ugly sound. “Yeah? Well, right back at you pal.” 

It hits him then, weights falling from the sky: how tenuous their grip on this life is. How any wrong move could be their last. How any of them could be snuffed out in the merest flicker of an instant and nothing of them would be left behind, save grief. 

Dean isn’t aware of the series of events that end with him crashing into Cas. He knows that his knees buckle, that he reaches out for Cas, that Cas is there to catch him, steady as ever. He folds himself into Cas, burrowing his nose between the collar of Cas’ shirt and his neck, brushing against warm skin. 

“I thought I lost you,” Dean finally says, the words dredged out of him like vomit, coming from somewhere dark and desperate that he keeps inside himself. Cas, his head lolling backward, hands limp on his stomach. Cas, light pouring out of his eyes and mouth, angel blade pierced through his chest...”I thought that I’d lost you again.” 

He doesn’t cry, but it’s a near thing as his shoulders shake with the release of pent-up emotion. He tries to crawl away to lick his wounds and hide his shame, but Cas’ arms tighten like a vice around his shoulders, keeping him present. 

“I can’t...don’t make me lose you again.” It’s half order, half-plea, but wholly sincere, gasped into Cas’ neck. “You think that you’re fucking expendable, that the ends justify the means, or whatever else your stupid chess metaphors say. But I need you in this with me Cas. I need you with me.” 

“And how dare you assume that I don’t feel the same,” Cas answers back. “How dare you think that I could go through this earth without you with me.” 

Dean draws back, just enough that he can take Cas’ face in his hands. Cas’ skin is warm against his palms. He can feel the flutter of Cas’ pulse underneath his hands, wild and thready and so very alive. “You ain’t fucking leaving me,” Dean says, before he kisses Cas. 

Just before his lips meet Cas’, he thinks that he sees something flicker across Cas’ face. A hint of regret maybe, a deeper secret coiling underneath the surface of those blue eyes. 

Dean pushes it aside before he kisses Cas, hard enough to bruise. Permanent. 

---

“I do not fear death. I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born, and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it.”―Mark Twain