#no matter how much hate i carry- no matter how much burden- Underneath it all- I'm devoted to them- that's how fucked up I am

[sunlit-mess]

consumed by the inevitable

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Baby, Mine

Azriel x Reader - Angst/Fluff - One shot

Rhys returns from under the mountain and Azriel’s life is changed forever as a bond snaps with the female his brother brings back with him. After an unexpected pregnancy is revealed, Azriel strives to show his mate just how much she and their child mean to him. Please read warnings below.

Bonus Chapter/Part 2

Warnings: discussion of rape and S/A, pregnancy resulting from rape, mentions of trauma, language, mention of pregnancy termination

“We should get up. My stomach’s growling.”

“And I thought it was just the little one chatting with my shadows.” Azriel teased, flushing beneath her gaze as his scarred fingers traced lightly over the growing swell of her abdomen, becoming more apparent by the day. He’d been nervous touching it for the first time, like he’d desecrate that precious life force growing underneath with his hands that had inflicted so much pain. But the way her eyes lit up the first time he touched it, he never wanted to forget the feeling of love and joy radiating into him through that newfound bond. It was beautiful - made him feel worthy of helping raise the beautiful life she was bringing into the world.

Though her stomach growled again, she made no move to get up, and by the way her hands were holding onto him, Azriel knew better than to go retrieve a plate from the House of Wind’s kitchen for her. So he sent a shadow beneath the door to see if Nuala or Cerridwen were there and if they could bring leftovers in, that is if Cassian and Mor hadn’t devoured the entire breakfast already.

“How’s she doing?” Rhys asked into his mind.

“Better than some days but not great, Rhys.”

There was a pause before Rhys’ guilty voice reentered his conscious.

“She’s the most selfless person I know, Az. I’m glad you two have eachother. But if she needs anything, if you need anything, let me know.”

And she was. Selfless in a way that Azriel couldn’t fathom. Selfless in a way that made his gut churn, a way he wanted to roar at the moon and the stars, and anyone who would listen. Selfless when she should have never had to be. She was bright and radiant and kind. The world looked at her and saw ethereal sunshine, walking starlight, unfathomable beauty both inside and out. But there was darkness and pain there too, so buried down deep that only Azriel could feel it in the middle of the night as whimpers disrupted her sleep.

So many nights Rhys would have to come in and cradle her mind, send her soothing thoughts and visions of anything beautiful that could mask the perils that haunted her dreams.

Azriel hated himself for it, the jealousy. He wished he could soothe her in that way but no matter how much love he sent through their bond, that darkness rooted itself so deeply within her that sometimes it took significant power from Rhys to reach it.

As if Rhys wasn’t already fighting his own trauma and waging against the insurmountable guilt he carried after being under the mountain, plus worrying about Feyre in the Spring Court. And that wasn’t to say Y/N was a burden in any way, though she felt she was. It killed Azriel to see both his mate and his brother fighting so much grief and not being able to do anything about it.

She’d have been better suited to be Rhysand’s mate than Azriel’s own by their intertwined traumas, by their ability to put themselves aside for a better world. Azriel, of course, fit into this court of dreamers but she… despite only being here for such a short period of time, she was the biggest dreamer of them all.

Another rumble from her stomach snapped Azriel out of his thoughts, mentally noting to Rhys, “She could use breakfast.”

“I’ll send some for both of you. You need to take care of yourself too.”

Azriel smelled the salt of her tears before he saw the silver lining her eyes. Propping himself up on an elbow, draping a wing over her, he began to ask softly, “Hey-“. Her head immediately shaking and she choked on the word, “No.”

“Baby, I know what you’re thinking and it’s not a burden. He just wanted to know if you needed anything.”

She took a few deep breaths, willing away those tears. “He doesn’t have to check on me. It’s my f-“

“Stop that. Listen to me, I’m always here to listen to you and I know that you’re dealing with complex emotions and trauma that I cannot even begin to fully fathom but this.. it’s not your fault.”

Her eyes welled up further as Azriel continued,

“I don’t want to lecture you or invalidate what you are feeling. Your emotions are justified but… these thoughts will eat you alive, they’re vicious lies that have been conditioned into you, and I can promise you that nobody blames anything on you. This entire family is so fucking grateful to have you as a part of it. In a world of darkness, where you had every right, every reason to bring that darkness with you, you chose light.”

He choked on his words as those tears flowed down her face. “You chose light when it only brought more darkness upon yourself.”

She cut him off. “She’s not darkness.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “She?”

And through her tears, he saw the slightest gleam of radiance in her eyes. “I can just feel it. Feel her.”

Azriel pressed a kiss to Y/N’s belly. “Yes, you are absolutely right. She is not darkness - she’s a beacon of light, the brightest star in the sky, perhaps aside from her mother - but the mental load you are carrying, it is dark and it’s heavy. And yes, you would carry darkness with you regardless of this spark of hope” he rubbed her belly in tender circles for emphasis. “But I know that mind of yours. That you are telling yourself that you’re a burden, that you made the wrong choice, when there was no wrong choice.”

At this point, the tears were streaming down her face, his shadows dutifully whisking them away, but only gratitude and love flowed from her.

A knock came on the door. Azriel’s eyes glazed over as Y/N recognized the telltale signs of what was happening. A line creased in his brow before she placed a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s okay, he can come in.”

“You sure, my love? He understands when you need space.”

She nodded. “I know but I think I need to see him today.” Azriel brushed his thumb in soothing ministrations across her abdomen until she pulled her night gown back down to cover herself.

The door creaked open and Rhys padded over to the bed, guilt and adoration limning his features. “Hey, starshine.” She blushed at the term. She hated her own name after Amarantha had called it so many times under the mountain. Rhys had begun calling her Starshine in secret due to her Day Court origins and the fact that he was convinced she’d been more suited for the Night Court.

Rhys had been drawn to her under the mountain, something about her reminding him of his brother. Rhysand could admit that Azriel was the most beautiful of the three brothers, his features seemingly crafted by the gods themselves. But if Azriel’s features were crafted by the gods, Y/N’s were crafted by the Mother herself. Aside from that, she had a quiet presence, though far less stoic and broody than Azriel’s, it was more of a quiet, gentle grace. A grace that Amarantha had tried so hard to shed her of but was never quite successful.

Amarantha, of course, made it her mission to both seek pleasure from her and torment her. When she never fully broke, Amarantha decided that instead of throwing her to the dark corridors she stuffed most lesser fae in, she’d make an excellent play thing. She looked mostly High Fae after all, yet had enhanced sexual appeal due to her nymph ancestry - perfect high and round breasts, long legs, a firm yet supple ass, and an arousing scent - needless to say, Amarantha delighted to add her to her roster of bed chamber accompaniment.

Y/N and Rhys developed a quiet understanding of each other and the roles they were forced to play in the year that she’d been under the mountain before Feyre arrived. They did not grow close enough for Amarantha to become concerned but enough that she knew her play things got along well enough to bring them both into her chambers at the same time.

Rhys would never forget the first time Amarantha had forced he and her into her chambers at the same time. Y/N tried to be strong, and she was. Another aspect of her that reminded him of his brother.

But she began to crack slightly, and Rhys knew Amarantha would make it so much worse for her if she did. So he did the only thing he knew to do and held her mind. He showed her visions of the Night Skies of the Night Court, the spirits of Starfall, the laughter of a family surrounding a table in a beloved restaurant, anything that could help her through it.

As he held her mind, she’d unwittingly sent visions from throughout her twenty-two years of life prior to being captured and brought under the mountain. She was loved deeply by her family who had little more than love to give. Eventually they had been murdered by Amarantha’s cronies at the age of nineteen - she’d been able to escape and live among the High Fae who sneered and objectified her, but offered enough coin to sleep with her to keep a roof over her head.

Rhys had determined that night that if they ever made it out of there alive, he was taking her to Velaris with him. She’d never live like that again.

He even smiled at the thought of introducing her and Azriel when she was ready to meet his family, already picturing his brother’s rose-dusted cheeks in her presence.

“Thank you” Azriel’s low voice withdrew Rhys from his thoughts, taking the plate from his hands.

A familiar scent wafted off of Rhys to Y/N. Pregnancy had heightened her sense of smell substantially.

As she sniffed the air Rhys gave a soft, sad smile at the eye brow she raised at him before asking, “Where is she?”

He shook his head, darkness rolling in waves off of him. “Tamlin locked her in his fucking manor. She had a breakdown.”

Her face drew tight. “That bastard!” Azriel flinched at the rage flowing down the bond. “She must have been terrified.”

“She certainly terrified the servants in his manor. She shrouded herself in darkness and nobody could get through to her.”

“He doesn’t deserve her.”

Rhys nodded. “He doesn’t.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Rhys. Where is she?”

“At the Town House.”

Her eyes blew wide. “Cauldron boil me, is she staying?”

Azriel smiled as he felt her excitement flow into him. A bit of that Day Court sunshine returning to her.

“I don’t know. She knows she can’t tell anyone if she goes back, but…”

“I felt it through the bond, Y/N. I think she’s here to stay.”

Azriel’s shadows agitated at the pause in verbal conversation, chattering back and forth,

“Secrets”

“Secrets”

He rolled his eyes and dismissed them, already knowing there were some things that remained between just Y/N and Rhys. He’d accepted it the very moment he’d shown up after he received word that Rhys was finally home and the bond snapped as soon as he laid eyes upon the radiant female by his side. He knew it snapped for her too when she walked right up to him, touched the hands he tried to hide behind his back, her eyes speaking everything she couldn’t. “I see your scars. I bear them too.” And pressed a kiss to each hand.

“Do you want me to leave? I assume she’s at the Town House but I’m sure she’ll be visiting here too, yes?”

Azriel bristled. No way in hell was Rhys going to make his mate leave, whether this home was his or not, she had a right to be present wherever she wished.

“Easy brother.”

Azriel shook off the feeling. The mating instinct was still so strong that he had a hard time not jumping in to defend her at the thought of any threat, physical or emotional.

“Y/N” Rhys took her hand.

“Don’t bite my head off for holding her hand, either.”

Azriel huffed before firing back to Rhys’ mind “I can’t wait for you to find your mate someday so you can see what it feels like to be so wound up like this.”

Rhys only gave a small, secret smile in return.

Y/N interjected. “Are you two done gossiping or can I know whether I should pack up or not?”

“This is your home just as much as it is my home. You are my family and I want Feyre to meet all of you. Cassian has already barreled through the door of the Town House along with Mor begging to be fed. Feyre went up to nap and recollect herself.”

“Can we have dinner with her… if she wants to?” She asked softly with a mixture of excitement and nervousness to her voice.

Rhys gave a nod. “I was thinking that same thing. Would you be comfortable?”

She nodded before the reality of the situation caught up with her.

“Y/N.” Rhys leaned in, gently tilting her head up to look at him. “I am not ashamed of you. I will never hide you or the life you are selflessly bringing into this Court of Dreamers.” His eyes lined with silver. “And I will always be so proud of the love that you both share. I knew from the moment I met you that my brother would adore you. And the fact that you two are mates? It’s one of the greatest things to come from that shit hole of a mountain. A reminder of the beauty that can prevail, even after the most dreadful of circumstances. I love all three of you.”

Azriel held his mate closely, ensuring she felt just how loved she truly was.

“She kicked for the first time the other day.”

Rhys raised a brow.

Y/N let out a sigh. “Ugh, you two are so skeptical. I really believe that this baby is a girl.”

Rhys eyed the scarred hand protectively placed over her round bump, so many complicated emotions running through him, with love being the strongest.

“Feyre will likely ask questions tonight regarding all of us, our stories. Nobody has to share anything they do not wish to, but you also may share if you are comfortable doing so. I would really like for Feyre to become a member of the Inner Circle-“

Rhys looked to Y/N rolling his eyes at the smirk and waggling eyebrows she gave him.

“Stop that. My point is just that, I would like for her to know all of you. I know she’ll love you all just as I do. Hell, she’ll probably love all of you before she’s ready to even fully tolerate me.”

Azriel let out a chuckle as his mate quipped “Tell me the story of the time she threw a shoe at you. It’s my favorite!”

“You cruel, lovely little thing.” Rhys laughed. “See you both for dinner.”

As Rhys exited them room, Y/N sighed. “You were awfully quiet.”

Az nudged her. “And that surprises you?”

“Okay, quieter than usual.”

Azriel pulled her in close, peppering kisses across her forehead. “I just don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for. You are still healing and now you’ll be facing someone else that was under the mountain with you.”

“She saved us all, Az.” She looked up into his hazel eyes with nothing but genuine adoration. “Without her, I never would have met you. And what kind of existence would that be?”

She began picking at the plate Rhys had brought in. Letting out a moan as the flavors burst on her tongue.

Az couldn’t help the involuntary twitch of his wings at the sound.

She laughed. “Don’t get any ideas until I’m finished with my food.”

Azriel raised his palms. “I’d never get between my pregnant mate and her meal. With the way she’s started moving, she’d likely kick me away anyway.”

She took another bite while nonchalantly commenting, “I thought of a name for her.”

“Oh yeah?” Azriel’s brows raised in anticipation of a potential name for their child.

“Azure. The same blue as the skies. I thought…”

Azriel cut her off, marveling at the name. Whispering more to himself than her. “Blue like the Day Court skies, blue like the skies that I love to take you flying in.”

She flushed. “Yes, exactly. And though it’s a different shade of blue, like your siphons.”

A lone tear escaped his eye. “And,” she continued with a coy smile. “We could call her ‘Az’”

Azriel sat still for a moment. And she would have thought he didn’t like it had it not been the rush of pure shock and awe flowing through the bond.

Suddenly he took her face in his hands, barely giving her time to swallow the bite of bacon she’d just taken, and crashed his lips into hers. And after her lips were swollen and puffy from the heat of his lips, he began pressing kisses all over her belly, whispering between them, “I love you, little Az. I love you more than the skies I fly in. More than my own name. More than any dreamer could dream of being loved. I can’t wait to fly you through the open skies, and show you every shade of blue this beautiful world has to offer. Nothing in this world matters more than you and your mother. I couldn’t be more proud to be your father.”

And he meant it. Every single word. The blood running through the baby growing inside of his mate didn’t need to be his, what mattered was the love flowing within the child and he intended to pour every single ounce of love he had into their baby.

It was Y/N though who broke down at those words. She and Azriel had spent every free moment together since meeting. He’d healed her in ways that she never could have dreamed. Finding her mate changed the time after Under the Mountain from the lonesome trauma reckoning hellhole she’d anticipated and into a time of healing. He listened to her, understood her, let her set the pace in every aspect. And he’d shared his trauma with her, all of it.

The child who had been abused by a wicked stepmother and horrid step-brothers, overlooked by his own father had grown up to be loving, caring, and patient in every way. And now, he was going to be the parent of a child that was not his by conception, choosing to love the child just as he would his very own. A vow he’d sworn in their mating vows and sealed with a bargain.

“What is it, love?” Azriel wiped away her tears.

“Stupid hormones. I just love you so much and I need you to know that you are so much more than I ever could have dreamed of. If I had to, I would go through it all again as long as it led me to you.”

Azriel’s eyes began watering again. “Look at us, Y/N. We’re quite a sight. Whatever you say tonight, just don’t let Cassian know that I’ve gotten so soft.”

Her glassy eyes sparkled as she gave a sweet smile. “I have a feeling that softness has already been there, my love, I just had the privilege of coaxing it out of you.”

He smiled. “Truth Teller personified.”

————————-

“We’re heading up now.” Rhys’ voice cut into Y/N’s mind.

“Are you sure about this, Rhys? Most of them do not know what all happened under the mountain. What if it’s too much for Feyre to take in?”

“She’s my mate, I have to hope that she will love and accept us all in time. It may be a lot to meet us and hear our stories but they’re a part of us, a part of loving us. I’m worried about Cassian scaring her off more than anything.”

“Valid concern. See you soon. Despite the circumstances, I’m so happy she’s here.”

“You know,” Rhys chuckled. “I feel the same way about you, Starshine.”

“You flatter me. Now enjoy your flight with the literal girl of your dreams.”

“She’s glaring daggers at me right now. Pray I make it there alive.”

“Where’d you go?” Az nudged.

Leaning into her mate’s side, embracing the warmth of his arms wrapped around her shoulders she replied, “Rhys and Feyre are on the way.”

“Are you ready for this?” He asked.

“I’m sure you can already feel my nerves down the bond but I appreciate you for asking.” She teased.

Azriel kept his pace slow as they wound through the hallways of the House of Wind toward the dining table. “If you’re not ready…”

She took a steadying breath. “No, he needs to get off on a solid foundation with her. And Cassian, Mor, and Amren have eyed us for a while, they realize that something is off. Plus, I mean, look at this thing.” Her delicate hands found her stomach. “They’re going to figure out that the timelines don’t match up soon enough.”

“Our girl IS growing.” Azriel spoke, not missing the opportunity to feel the life growing within his mate.

She teased, “You’ve referred to the babe as “her” a few times now. Coming around to the idea?”

“I know better than to go against your intuition.”

With that, Y/N gave a wicked grin. “Mother knows best.”

As they approached the dining room, Azriel pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be right by your side.”

She beamed. “And I’ll be by yours too, with whatever you may share tonight…and forever, of course.”

As everyone arrived and gathered at the dining table, Y/N couldn’t help but admire how lovely Feyre and Rhys were together. Though she hated the situation that brought her there, that Tamlin tried to hoard her away in his manor, she couldn’t help but feel joy knowing that she was finally beginning to see the true Rhysand.

The Inner Circle kept up with the typical antics and plenty of laughter filled the space, but the conversation eventually turned more serious as everyone took turns giving Feyre insight into themselves.

Feyre looked to Y/N with curiosity. “You were under the mountain, but Azriel was not?”

Her hands shook as she prepared to share. A warmth covered them as Azriel gave a gentle squeeze, sending waves of that reassurance in abundance. She took a breath.

She began by sharing the background of her family, their deaths, that she’d sold her body to survive afterward, how she’d only been under the mountain for a year before Feyre arrived.

“You didn’t know Azriel before they took you?” Feyre asked. Not harshly, just inquisitively.

Y/N held her head high. Her story was not one to be ashamed of.

“I did not. Rhys was one of the only souls to show me kindness under the mountain. I have nymph ancestry with primarily High Fae features. Amarantha took an interest in me and….”

An unreadable expression covered Rhys’ face. This was his trauma too, but he gave a reassuring nod.

“She began taking me to her chambers. I had no choice. It was warm her bed, or face physical torture until death.”

Feyre flinched along with Rhys. Y/N recognized that they were remembering the human girl Amarantha had tortured to death just before Feyre’s arrival.

“She also, against our hopes, realized that Rhysand and I had an understanding of eachother - serve her or die. Being the lust-driven wretch that she was, she began taking us both to her chambers. There was no room for weakness in there. She wanted us just weak enough to submit to her, but we had to remain strong in every other aspect. The first time she had Rhys and I, together,” she cleared her throat, giving pause before continuing, “Rhys saved me. I began to crack, and he held my mind. I will let Rhys speak on his own trauma and the mental load he carried, but he didn’t hesitate to help me get through it. It was not the last time he had to help me through it.”

The table was completely silent. Heart-wrenching expressions filled each face at the table. Palpable rage could be felt radiating off of Amren, though her face remained straight.

Her voice began cracking. Azriel pulled her close into him. “When you saved us,” She looked to Feyre. “I don’t mean to fawn or gawk over you, but Feyre, you did save us.” Feyre gave an empathetic look, nodding to Y/N to continue. “Rhys brought me back to Velaris because he couldn’t bear for me to return to the life I was living, because this Court of Dreams is made up of individuals who have lived through terrible traumas and, despite every reason to lead bitter lives- have chosen to dream of a better world. To fight for a better world. And he knew a certain Shadowsinger and I would get on quite well. In fact, he’s been a smug bastard ever since over just how well things went between us.”

“When I met him.” She stared lovingly to Azriel who swallowed a lump in his throat. “The bond snapped between us immediately. The same day I was brought here, I met my mate.”

Instinctively she placed her hands on the swell of her abdomen. “Rhys gave Azriel leave to spend time with me, for him to help me through the aftermath of what I’d been through…”

“But two weeks after arriving back, my scent began to shift.” Mor’s brows furrowed in contemplation.

“I became very sick shortly after that. Rhys called in a healer, Madja, who confirmed that I was two and a half months pregnant.”

Cassian audibly gasped and Mor murmured “Oh my gods.”

Azriel kept his composure for the sake of his mate, but this was killing him. His brother and his mate being forced by that fucking witch. “Azriel is not the biological father of this baby. The child was conceived under the forced coupling of Rhysand and I by Amarantha.”

Feyre’s face was a mix of sadness, and rage, and sympathy.

“There were options to terminate the pregnancy. However, due to my Nymph ancestry, such options can have negative, potentially deadly effects. Aside from that, though I never planned to have a child - I couldn’t bear the thought of losing another family member. Rhys, after losing his family, felt the same, which he only expressed after I shared my feelings with him. He was completely supportive of any decision I made.” Feyre looked to Rhys and then back to Y/N, no negative judgement written on those lovely features.

Y/N looked to Azriel with a loving grin “And Azriel- he took me to a priestess that night. We both wanted to accept the bond from the moment we met, the connection was unbelievably strong, I never believed in the power of the bond until I found him. And now because he’s ever the romantic, though I see him already blushing at the mention of it, he wanted to make a vow before the Mother - a vow to love me no matter what choice I made, a vow to love the life within me as his very own child, to love and cherish us both until his last breath.”

She pulled the sleeve off of her shoulder, revealing the intricate tattoo solidifying his vow.

“And Rhys,” She gave a soft smile. “He made a bargain to love and care for this child and to recognize Azriel as its father. We will not hide the parentage from our child. And Rhys, I know, already loves them dearly, but mine and Azriel’s decisions for our baby come first and will be respected as any biological parents would.”

She’d left out the part where Azriel had gone under the mountain to investigate later on and found that Amarantha had begun supplying a fertility tonic instead of birth control to Y/N after the Calanmai that Rhys had gone to the Spring Court and seen Feyre. Though she didn’t know who Rhys saw, she likely suspected he’d developed interest in someone else and become jealous, hoping an accidental pregnancy would either create a rift in any potential relationship or, even worse, that the baby could be used as leverage against him.

The table remained silent until Rhys chimed in. “So my brother is my child’s father. I’m sure stranger things have happened.”

Despite that sadness the Inner Circle felt, Rhysand’s comment elicited smiles. Azriel gave his brother a nod of thanks for breaking the tension while affectionately caressing his mate.

Mor eased the tension further by chiming in “Y/N! You are further along than we realized which means….. we get to go shopping for our newest family member sooner!!!”

Feyre decided soon after that she would like to work with the Court of Dreams.

————————-

Epilogue

Because his mate was always right, Azriel was indeed the father of a beautiful little girl, clever and stubborn like her mother, and the light of his life. Her mother the sun, and she the moon.

He and Rhys had just returned from taking “Baby Azzie” who was now a toddler to get pastries along the Sidra. Azriel returned with his half-asleep daughter in his arms, who perked up upon seeing her baby brother cooing in his bassinet. “Nyxie!!” She yelled, hurrying over to the winged babe. Rhys, however, arrived with numerous shopping bags in his own arms.

Feyre, who had been lounging with her head on Y/N’s shoulder gave the two a big smile. Y/N raised an eyebrow. “All of that better be for Nyx.”

Azriel and Rhys shared a laugh before Rhys spoke. “Well, half of it is, but only because someone batted her little lashes at us repeating ‘Brother, present. Brother, present’ until we took her into what is conveniently her favorite toy store.” Az cut in, “And because my brother is getting soft in his old age” before Rhys could remind Azriel that he was, in fact, the older of the two, Az continued, “Rhys had to buy something for her for every item she picked out for Nyx.”

Y/N groaned. “Cassian literally just bought her five new toys and six new outfits on their last outing.”

The raven-haired toddler with her mother’s nose and radiant skin, Rhys’ smile, and by some gift of the Mother - had Azriel’s golden-flecked hazel eyes, toddled up to Feyre, giving her a big hug. She then turned to her mother, leaning in to whisper something, that came out as quietly as a yell. “I got something for sissy too. Daddy has it in the pocket realm.”

Y/N’s face flushed as Rhys and Feyre gaped. “So much for keeping that a secret for a little longer.”

Feyre squealed leaning in and throwing her arms around Y/N. “I thought that maybe I was getting allergies, your scent hasn’t been as strong but you were glamouring it!”

Rhys pulled Azriel into a long hug, then walked over to Y/N with a wide smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Azriel placed a hand on his chest as he took in the sight of his blended family. It wasn’t what he’d ever expected but, to him, it was everything.

[peachsayshi]

by your side. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ gojo x female reader ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

summary: gojo returns home after an exhausting two month trip away from you. 

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

notes: I’m so h*rny for this man & that tight black tee of his this is my contribution to celebrate satoru gojo and satoru gojo only <3  you can find my other yan gojo posts: here & here. 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: yandere; lovesick/obsessed/needy gojo; sleepy satoru; oral (f receiving); edging; dub con (ish?); pussy drunk satoru 👀; size kink; dacryphilia 

“Missed you,” Satoru exhales with a strained voice, his long fingers unfastening the knot around your waist, similarly to how you removed the white ribbon of the present he gifted you earlier this evening. 

The elder jujutsu sorcerers frustrated him with too many problems during his isolation period away from you, binding him with the shackles of responsibilities that he never asked for.

Exchanging phone calls, text messages and videos with you wasn’t enough enough to fill the empty void in his heart. Only now, as he smooths down the silk fabric of your robe, does Satoru understand how terribly deprived he’s been. 

How did he survive these last two months without you?

“I missed you so much, my sweet girl”

His words are laced with anguish and his pupils dilate at your soft skin peeking out from under your attire. He pulls the material away from you, watching carefully as it ripples off your body like water. 

Around your neck is the present that he bought for you; a string of white gold links draping down your clavicle with a heart shaped pendant resting just above your chest. He nips at his bottom lip, considering the idea of adorning you in even more jewelry. 

Two sparkling studs for your ears, maybe...a charm bracelet to compliment a pretty anklet... a band that would look complete around your ring finger...

The image makes his dick twitch.

You’re looking up at him from underneath your lashes, shying away from his intense gaze and drifting down to his muscular torso looking snug in his black fitted tee. All of a sudden your bed feels much smaller with him there, and a tingle ascends up your spine when he curves his strong arm behind your waist. The force of his weight pushes you down onto the soft pillows behind you. His limbs taking up most of the mattress, leaving you pinned underneath the expanse of his chest. 

You’ve forgotten how quickly he makes your heart race.  You’re still adjusting to this - getting used to the status of being his girl.

He tenderly touches his forehead to yours, a reminder of why the claim shouldn’t make you feel like a frightened kitten trapped in a wolf’s den.

Those words are pure devotion now, an affirmation of his love towards you. There are many who dream about basking in its abundance, and here you are greedily indulging for free.

Being loved by him is an honor that you have been pleasantly awarded.

You tilt your chin up to brush your mouth over his, initiating the first kiss with a chaste peck against his pink lips before leaning back to look into the depths of his blue eyes. 

He’s exhausted, you can tell, the bright color of his irises are muted and his mouth is twisting downward in a subtle frown. You know for a fact that he carries many burdens as the head of his clan and the strongest sorcerer, but what’s unsettling you is the sullen expression overwhelming his handsome face since his arrival. 

“I thought you would be happy to see me,” you state quite matter of factly, swiping your thumb over the blush blooming underneath his pale skin. 

Satoru leans into your touch, resting his cheek comfortably in the palm of your hand, and you can’t help but think how angelic he looks this way.

“I am, it’s just...I really, really hated being away from you,” he confesses through gritted teeth. 

You brush off the spark of nerves reacting to the visible sickness on his face, and trail your index finger down the bridge of his nose. “You’re home now,” you coo as you circle your arms around his neck, “I’m happy that you’re back.” 

His shoulders relax almost immediately, and he buries his relieved smile in the crook of your neck.  “Yeah?” he mumbles into your skin. “That’s nice to hear.” 

The sensation feels ticklish, but your giggle is quickly replaced by quiet pants as Satoru leaves a trail of kisses down your torso. His large palms find the back of your knees, and he lowers himself while spreading you apart so he can comfortably rest between your legs. The hand on your left leg curls around your ankle and he adjusts your position by bending your knee at a perfect angle. Meanwhile, his other hand lifts up your right leg, exposing the back of your thigh which he litters with tiny kisses and gentle nibbles.

“You don’t know...” he mumbles, “you don’t know how hard it is for me being away from you, it’s...” he interrupts once more, smooching your plush skin, “it’s unbearable...” 

His feathery admission gives you no comfort. Worry twists around your belly, caught between the grips of fright and excitement. A part of you refuses to believe that he is truly helpless without you around. However, it’s battling with your ego that’s showering with pride over the fact that this man would bend at your every will. 

Satoru presses his nose up against your clothed cunt to inhale your scent. The tension on his face dissipates, but his grip around your ankle tightens as he kisses you over the white cotton fabric. 

“M’here, Toru...” you soothe, threading your fingers through the frosty strands framing his facing, and pushing back his hair. “Here just for you” 

He releases an exaggerated sigh, “I feel so much better when we are together...” he admits, pressing his index finger up against the outline of your slit and rubbing over the damp patch that he formed with his tongue, “...when we are close like this.” 

You don't believe he’s lying. As a matter of fact, Satoru is honest to a fault when expressing his feelings about you.

You think it’s detrimental for a person to be this dependent, but your mind always finds a reason to rationalize his perspective.

Maybe it’s because you love him…or maybe it’s because he’s successfully bulldozed his way into your life that he now occupies every territory, making it impossible for you to turn anywhere catching a glimpse of his shadow.

You swallow the lump in your throat.

You don’t want to dissect these unsettling ideas, afraid of what your mind would reveal to you in the process.

Instead, you allow yourself to relax as your lover pulls aside your underwear to expose your pussy. He lightly rubs his thumb over your ankle, keeping you in place for him before placing a sweet kiss on your clit. You slowly massage his scalp as a gesture of encouragement, and whimper quietly when he flicks the tip of his tongue along the nub. 

Your right leg lazily falls over his broad shoulder when he releases his hold, your eyelids growing heavy feeling the stroke of his velvety tongue drag down.

Satoru eats you out for his own pleasure, and the man is starved having not tasted you for months.

He keeps you in this position long enough for you to feel like the room is spinning. You’re lightheaded, delirious, with the way he softly and slowly devours your cunt and slurps your arousal. The sound of tender smacks and his deep humming moans echo around you, and your hips buck against his mouth from how sensual he sounds.  

The brewing heat numbs you from the top of the head down to the tips of your toes, it’s burning so low that you’re desperate to prod the embers just to stir the flame. You lick your lip feverishly, tasting the saltiness of sweat and jab your heel into his back, but the pressure feels like nothing to him. 

Satoru doesn’t waver or pick up the pace because he’s savoring you down to the very last drop, and he looks so content with your slick dribbling down his chin. He goes deeper, pushing his tongue further inside you as he compresses his nose into your clit. The added pressure makes you choke out a pathetic whine, provoking your exasperation and your thighs start to quiver uncontrollably. 

You’re relying on your movements, grinding your hips out of desperation in the hopes to finally snap the rubber band of your pleasure that’s being stretched to its limit. 

“mmph...t-toru?...” you mewl as tears prick your lovely eyes. “toru?” 

“Hmm?” a deep voice replies, and Satoru slowly wriggles his nose as he continues to lazily fuck you with his tongue. 

“Satoru, I-...ah!” you yelp, finally grabbing his attention as you roughly yank his hair. 

He groans with annoyance, but slows down his movements. To your dismay, he doesn’t completely pull away and instead returns back to your sensitive clit. He languidly rolls his tongue over it, licking and sucking the overstimulated bud that the tears start to fall. 

“I can’t take this...I can’t take this...”  you sniffle, easing your hold as you try to push his head away. “need to cum, wanna cum so bad...” 

Only then does he look up from the mess between your legs, strings of your slick catch onto his chin and you contemplate how unjust it is that he looks this beautiful, contemplate how unfair it is that you are meant to temper your sinful thoughts around a man who is Adonis incarnate. 

His hazy eyes blink away his dream like trance, and you can see his senses returning back to the present. He arches his brow with slight amusement at your flustered expression but maintains an innocent tone when he replying.

“I got a little carried away...” he states before placing an apologetic kiss on your lower tummy. “Not enough for you, huh?” 

You pout slightly and shake your head no, attempting to lift yourself up on your forearms despite your shoulders trembling from how frail your body feels tipping so close to the edge.

Satoru envelopes you in the protection of his embrace. He kisses you deeply, and you can taste yourself on his tongue and over his lips. He molds into your frame and your body lights up with sparks feeling how stiff  the length of his hard cock feels as he delicately ruts his hips over yours. 

You moan with every calculative thrust, spread your legs wide enough to feel his impressive bulge rub against you.

God, it makes you want to ride him senseless.

You’re yearning to have him inside you.

He pulls away from the sloppy, wet kiss then eases the grind of his hips as he pecks your cheek and jawline. He wriggles down, stopping to suckle on the tips of your pointed nipples and your heart stops when you realize that he still has no intention of making you cum yet.

“Toru, please...” you beg when he returns to his previous position, a gasp following your plea as he buries two fingers inside you. 

“I’m feeling much better, baby, I love you s’much...” he reassures, a wicked grin tickling the corners of his mouth as he steadily drags his digits back and forth, “I promise I’ll fill you right up…just need to make up for some lost time, kay?” 

The blood drains from your face, and you realize that you’re completely at his mercy.

“s’good to me, so perfect ‘n pretty...” he praises into your glistening cunt, but you’re too enraptured by the sensation of his tongue stroking your folds to notice the way his eyes darken as he looks at you.

If you did, then you would remember the danger of nuzzling up with a wolf whose bite would bleed you dry. 

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 || 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐌𝐈̇𝐂𝐒

** banner by the amazing @pedrorascal thank you so much bby for taking the time to make this for me 🧡🧡🧡

series summary: Still struggling to come to terms with his father's recent passing, burdened by the weight of the business he left behind, Javi feels adrift. Meanwhile, years later, an unexpected twist of fate brings you back into Javi's life again—the daughter of his favorite housekeeper. Uncertain about your future and what to do with it, you find yourself at a crossroads, while Javi wrestles with the irresistible pull he feels towards you.

pairing:  javi gutierrez x ofc!mia pradera (written in second person, no body descriptions)

word count: 6.1k

chapter summary: Javi wasn't expecting your return after years, he also wasn't expecting to see you naked through his bedroom window.

warnings: javi secretly peeping into your room through the window, male masturbation, thoughts of oral, age gap, javi showing signs of depression, grief, brief mention of drug use

a/n: welcome to the new and improved first chapter of the series! I've been reworking this for a week now and decided to repost it. There's a lot that has been changed and added so I highly recommend reading this one before going forward. The second chapter will be coming soon (and I mean it this time lmaodfvd) I'll be making the other version of the first chapter private and I'm hoping you guys will enjoy this version as well 💜💜💜

Special thank you to @emilianamason who beta'd this for me and also helped me out with the Spanish bits, I'm truly grateful so thank you once again 💕

***dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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The sky is a matte gray. It reminds Javi of the sea when there’s a storm raging underneath, the sand lifting from the bottom and giving the beautiful blue a more mud-like color. He sees crunchy leaves and smells cinnamon. It’s fall alright. He always finds this time of year a bit somber but in a romantic way. He’s holding a cup of espresso, the dark liquid still steaming. The pool has been drained for cleaning. 

He can hear clatter coming from inside the house, mattresses are being flipped, apple pies are being baked. He’s the only man that lives here, yet everyone who works here spoils him, even if they don’t need to. No one really says anything but Javi can see it, the way they walk on eggshells around him, the conversations that fade into hushed whispers that carry the same lilt of his name. 

Everyone treats him as a child. Not that he can blame them. Javi gave them little reason to behave otherwise. He did drugs, knew how to shoot a gun, and was the son of one of the most powerful men but still. . . he was a child in the sense that he knew little of the world. He wasn’t like Lucas who was more than eager to get his hands dirty. 

A gentle child, that was what his father called him when he was young. He always uttered the words gently. Yet, hidden within his gentle expression but in his eyes, Javi could see the disappointment. He wanted a partner. Someone who did more than looking over the olive oil and wine business, it didn’t matter if Javi was good at it, his father wanted more of him.

In the end, he doesn’t mind the pampering—he’s grieving, isn’t he? He deserves it. He had no one else to take care of him, and the staff had been with him for years. He feels closer to them than Lucas. When his cousin mentioned taking over, Javi didn’t care. Not in the slightest. They were close enough that Javi didn’t have to worry about being killed or thrown out. 

Besides, Javi enjoyed the finer things in life, which is why he didn’t mind overlooking the “front” of the job. He made sure that everything ran smoothly and Lucas seemed impressed by the growth of the business. Javi hated to admit it, but he did enjoy seeing that faint shimmer in his cousin’s eyes. The look that said; Oh, he’s not completely useless after all. 

Besides, Javi enjoys sampling the wine. He adores the sourness that hits his tongue with every swallow. 

“¿Discúlpeme señor?” 

He takes a sip of his coffee. 

“¿Si, señorita Pradera?” 

Javi turns to look at her, a little smile playing on his lips. Lucía is one of his favorite employees and one of the ones that can read him like an open book. She’s a natural mother, a caretaker. Whenever he’s down on himself, she never once hesitated to pick him back up. It didn’t matter if he was shaking from going overboard on LSD or if he was crying during Paddington 2, she was there. It was nice to be taken care of. Something he couldn’t receive from his own family— maybe once or twice from his father. Javi didn’t know who his mother was, there was a lot of speculation about that. 

Lucía just makes him happy. Talking to her feels like something light. He doesn’t need to overthink it, and if he says something wrong, he could always come and apologize. She never held a grudge. But despite how cheerful she seems, in her eyes, Javi can see the soft waves of sadness. Sometimes he saw the same waves in his own eyes, telling him that he was disappointing someone somewhere, that he’s done too many mistakes to turn back from. 

She seems to be genuinely happy this time, her cheeks slightly flushed, forehead and cheeks glistening with a sheer coat of sweat. 

“Do you remember, Mia?” she asks. “Mi hija.” 

That’s right, Lucía had a daughter. Javi remembers you running around before you left to live with your father in the States. She often mentioned your name and sometimes she left to visit her but Mia never came. He isn’t sure if it was the father who didn’t let her or if Mia herself didn’t want to come, but regardless, Lucía was hurt by being away from her daughter for so long. 

"I wanted to ask if my daughter could come para una visita. She's done with university y necesita un lugar to relax, figure things out." 

He takes another sip of his coffee, it’s finished now. A leaf slowly spins down from above, the sunlight gently filtering through its translucent veins. It lands gently in the empty pool. 

“¡Pero claro que si!” he says, and smiles. “When is she coming?” 

“Next week.” 

Javi was sitting on the terrace when you arrived. 

He has a small plate of olive oil with thyme placed in front of him. Tearing a slice of bread into two, he dips a piece into the aromatic blend and brings it to his mouth. Javi only bites the part drenched in olive oil, he savors the taste, the sharp taste of dried thyme hitting his tongue. Shortly after, he goes for a second dip. 

When he’s done chewing, you’re already at the top of the stairs. 

You have no luggage, only a large backpack that slightly pulls your body back. Javi recognizes your face, the soft features he’s grown accustomed to when you were trailing behind your mother, asking to watch a movie on the big screen. You look more mature now, the corners of your face sharper yet still carry that roundness. 

You’re staring at him as if he’s a long-lost sibling, your smile bright and wide. The expression is contagious, making him smile wide as well. Your gaze reminds him of a look he’s only seen in movies, the close-ups that sole purpose is to show the fondness in a person’s eyes. He’s not sure what he feels about that fond look in your eyes. Your gaze is incredibly soft and affectionate for a person who has been in the air for god knows how long—which is why he’s usually flying people in instead of the other way around. 

You can see right through him, he thinks, nerves crackling with an uncomfortable feeling. It makes him conscious about how broken he truly is, his mask hardening the longer you smile. 

“Javi!” you exclaim, arms opening wide. Not knowing what else to do Javi mimics you and wraps his arms around you. You giggle into his chest, your breath warm on his chest. “¡Te he extrañado!” 

He missed you too. 

Javi's ear catches the trace of an accent in your Spanish. 

You smell of cheap coffee, chocolate, and the airport—and also a little bit of sweat, which is normal after such a long flight. Javi squeezes you once and feels you melting against him, you really must be tired to become so plaint under his touch. Swiftly, he releases his grip, yet your palms find solace on his shoulders, causing him to awkwardly flex his knees in order to accommodate the lingering touch. He wasn’t aware of how close you were standing. Your breath mingling with his own as your eyes dance along his face, taking in every worn-out detail. 

You suddenly pull your hands back, a bashful chuckle slipping past your lips. 

“Sorry about that— I’m feeling a bit jet-lagged.” you rock back and forth on your heels, anxious energy overwhelming your nerves. “How have you been?”

Javi stands still, eyes slightly wide, not knowing how to answer such a question. Physically, he feels good. Mentally, also good but he isn’t sure. He’s fine during the day, his routine occupying his mind enough so that he doesn’t register the loss. His father wasn’t around that much anyway. But when night fell and he laid his head against his overly fluffed pillow. . . that’s when he remembered. His chest ached, his eyes stung. He didn’t know how to deal with it so he remained silent, staring blankly at the ceiling. 

Sometimes he even gets angry trying to muster up an answer. 

He can never get angry with you though, besides you had no idea of knowing. His tongue nervously swipes over his bottom lip and his teeth dig into the inside of his cheek. He’s about to answer, say he’s fine, but you beat him to it. 

“God, I’m being such an ass. Of course, you’re not okay,” you murmur more to yourself than him. He still hears you though and your words catch him by surprise. You softly hit yourself in the head, which makes worry roll down his spine. “I’m really sorry about your father, Javi. My mom told me. That must’ve been hard for you.” 

Has it been hard for him? 

Honestly, he’s not sure. His death, his funeral… it all passed by in such a blur. He remembers his father dying slowly, in an expensive hospital bed with flowers by his side. Javi doesn’t quite remember the rest. He doesn’t remember the funeral, the moment he was gently laid into the earth, never to be seen again. 

He does remember feeling Gabriella’s hand on his shoulder. He also remembers Lucas standing close to him, his eyes watching the casket go down. 

“I am okay,” he takes the hand that you’d hit yourself with, thumb slowly moving over the soft planes of your hand. He smiles when you let out a sigh of relief and turns his eyes to the empty chairs. “And thank you. I have been doing better. Why don’t you take a seat, you must be tired. I will call your mother for you.” 

He watches as you take a seat and after a brief phone call to Lucía, Javi sits down as well. He asks what you’ve been up to, about your life in America after you’d moved away from your mother. Briefly, Javi sees a hint of hesitation and regret pooling in your eyes. He doesn’t know much about why you left, he only remembers that you were young back then, just a kid basically. 

Javi manages to ease your thoughts by slowly sliding the basket full of bread and the small plate of olive oil toward your way, saying that you should eat. Only after the first bite you being to speak freely, telling him how hard university has been and that the competition was rough and had drained you out, making you feel like a shell of a person. 

“You’re not a shell,” he answers, brows drawn together. You smile between bites of oil-soaked breath, shooting him an appreciative smile. 

“You’re still the nicest man I know,” you say. Javi’s not sure how you could’ve drawn that connection, he doesn’t remember doing anything to gather such an observation but takes the compliment anyway. “I had a troublesome professor. He really did a number on me mentally, I like my field but I really want to do something else with my life.” 

“And what is that?” he dips the leftover bread into the last pools of olive oil. “What do you want to do?” 

"I yearn to weave tales," you express with a melodic lilt as if addressing an audience, then you laugh. Javi feels like he’s watching his favorite painting come to life, raw and vivid. “Sorry, that sounded snobby of me didn’t it?” your tongue pokes through your cheek. “I want to write a book, create screenplays, and even directing—I want to do it all. That's why I'm so happy mom called me here. It's such a beautiful place to think about big things like that, you know? And well. . . "

You trail off and worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “You’re here too, which is nice. You still like watching movies?” 

“Of course,” he answers, feeling the tip of his ears growing warm. “You know that I take my movie-watching very seriously.” 

You’re grinning now, “I do. I think you might be the one who introduced me to the media actually. We watched movies at home but here. . . ” you sigh, eyes taking in the scenery. “Here it felt magical. And I loved the endless movie facts you seemed to have stored up in that brain of yours.” 

“You flatter me,” despite himself, he’s smiling from ear to ear. “It’s nice that you want to direct.” 

“That’s only one of the things I want to do,” you say, stuffing your mouth with the last bit of bread. “But yeah. I know it’s a competitive field, some parts of it are downright evil, but it just calls to me. Imagine someone watching your story, isn’t that exciting?” 

Javi's mouth momentarily opens, then promptly shuts. Yes, it is exciting.

Suddenly your brows furrow, your gaze meeting his as you swallow, “Didn’t you want to write a script as well? I remember you being really into Nicolas Cage.” 

His lips part again but the words die on his tongue. He’s surprised that you remember so much about him. In all honesty, Javi does remember the movie nights he had with you before you left—But it definitely wasn’t anything inspirational. During the many boring, work-related dinners, he would find you crouched behind the wall listening, watching your mother, clearly bored out of your mind. He asked if you wanted to watch a movie one night, and you said yes. After that, it became a habit. You would come to him, tugging his sleeve and asking to go to the cinema room. He happily indulged, of course. 

Javi doesn’t remember the first movie he played for you, but he does remember the second one; Raising Arizona. 

Thankfully, your mother's animated voice swiftly dispels the silence that was dancing on the line of turning awkward.

“Mia!” Lucía's attempt to reach her daughter almost resulted in a tumble down the stairs. She catches herself midstep. “¡Estás aquí! How was your flight?” 

“¡Mamá!” 

Javi watches them hug, an uncomfortable yearning stirring in his gut. In a tearful embrace, Lucía holds you close, squeezing her daughter tight. 

Javi wanted to talk more about films, ask about your favorite actors, he wanted to hear your stories. He seems to be invisible to them now, not that he blames them. Just in case one of them catches his wistful look, he forces a smile. 

They climb up the stairs, mother and daughter. Javi catches fragments of Lucía's voice, softly describing the breathtaking view from your room. A feeling he can’t place tugs gently at his heart and whatever it was, he keeps it hidden beneath his quivering smile. 

Javi stares at the now empty basket and plate. He sees only crumbs. The chair you were sitting in is pushed back, misplaced, forgotten. He picks up the plate and basket, slides the chair back into place, and heads up the stairs, making his way to the kitchen. 

Javi is laying on the bed, the sheets cozy and warm. A book rests delicately between his broad palms but his mind is elsewhere, the words only mere shapes inked on paper. 

He’s thinking of you. How full of life you are, how you still have ambitions– Your life full of undiscovered paths, he envies it. He envies the hope, the excitement, the illusion of choice. He’s happy for you, of course, but he can’t help the wistful beating of his heart. He had responsibilities since the day he was born. Javi is aware that he’s a privileged man. He’s not going to pity himself in thinking that he isn’t. He got what he wanted, but he also heard an earful about how he was wasting his life on silly things. That he should focus. 

Focus on what? He always wanted to ask. He didn’t see why he couldn’t indulge in his hobbies and the business that was forced upon him. In the end, his father’s greatest fear came true, Javi has no interest in taking over. The family patriarch never said anything but it was clear to Javi that his father was disappointed. 

A soft, gentle light catches his attention. It pours through the expansive, elegant windows adorned with ornate square bars reminiscent of wrought iron. Closing his book, Javi assumes a sitting position, his socked feet firmly planted on the cool floor. His interest is piqued. Normally, no one stays in the building across from him. It was usually reserved for family visits. 

What happens next is an accident. 

Or perhaps it is a blessing disguised as an accident. He’s undecided.

Javi sees you, towel loosely wrapped around your figure, hair still dripping wet. His mouth goes dry, eyes wide as he stares, unable to tear away his darkened gaze. Compared to when he first saw you today, your walk is slow, languid. You stand at the side of the bed and clumsily free yourself of the tight clutch of the fluffy towel. Dipping your head, you cradle the back of it with the towel and fold it in front, only to throw your entire head back, leaving you bare for all to see. 

His cheeks become a shade darker, fingers uncontrollably twitching against his thigh. The muscle at the base of his stomach tightens, radiating warmth.

Did you know? Were you aware that he could see you? No, of course not. There’s no fathomable reason as to why you would want him to lay his eyes on you. Javi holds his breath. He should say something, should he not? 

Briefly, you disappear from his eye line only to reappear a short moment later with two bottles of —what he assumes— lotion in your hands. His cock hardens as you slather your body with lotion. He swears he can smell it. A delicate scent that carries notes of daffodil and vanilla. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. Warm honey drips down his spine, forcing goosebumps to appear over his skin. He hates that he’s still watching.

He knows what he'll see if he was brave enough to look down; the telltale bulge of arousal within the front of his sweatpants. He can feel it twitching angrily, tempting him to reach down and take it in his hand and give in to the pleasure that would undoubtedly come with it.

Why the fuck is he still watching? 

You start applying the lotion from your legs, going all the way up to your thighs. You massage it sensually into your skin, fingers spread wide as you lean down and pull yourself back up. Javi’s stomach churns, his own hand sneaking under the waistband of his sweats. He wraps his fingers around his thick cock, thinking how fortunate it was that he skipped wearing boxers before bed. 

His shirt sticks to his skin. His chest heaving as he begins to stroke himself, the pressure of his hand makews his eyes roll back. His thumb swipes at the slit, spreading the precum all over the length of his cock. A groan echoes from the back of his throat. His hand is moving with ease now, tenderly gliding up and down his hard cock. 

His teeth clenched tightly together, Javi’s eyes flicker back to the window. Your hands slide up your stomach and over your breasts, they bounce perfectly as gravity tugs them back down. You spread the lotion over your chest and neck. His hand moves faster. He slightly hunches forward, hips jerking as if he’s actually fucking himself into you. 

His mouth opens in a silent moan as his fingers grip the base of his shaft. The sensation builds until his spine is aching for release. His hips buck against his hand and his thighs clench as the pleasure courses through his veins.

Javi imagines the soft moans he'd hear coming from his mouth, your lips wrapping tightly around the tip of his cock. His body tenses at the fictitious swirl of your tongue, tantalizing flexing with each stroke that takes him closer to the edge. With each thrust of his hips your body would grind against his leg, he’d feel you quiver. He thinks of the slickness of your saliva sliding down his length as you suck him dry.  You’d squeeze his hips with both of your hands. . .  it feels like electricity shooting through him. He wants to feel you against him, feel the heat of your skin, and kiss you senseless.

He cums hard while you’re getting dressed, his jaw lax as he thrusts fervently into his fist. His sweatpants cling to him like a second skin. He can feel the sticky mess inside as it pools in the fabric, disgusted by the warmth of his own body as it wraps around him. There’s a short second where the urge to throw up consumes him, he thinks about running to the toilet, emptying everything out to trick himself to believe that it never happened. 

But it did. 

The lights of your room fade away, only the moon left to kiss away Javi’s concern. His legs tremble and ache as he gets up. Pleasure still licks at his body, making him want more. His soft cock is uncomfortable trapped under his sweatpants, throbbing and aching despite the events that just transpired. 

Javi grabs a new pair, this one thinner than the other and heads to the bathroom.

Javi jolts awake to the sound of a loud knock. Groggily, he rises from his bed, attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes with a loose fist. Another knock follows, causing a small, annoyed growl to escape his chest. He reluctantly opens the door, his eyes half-lidded, only to find a familiar face on the other side that leaves him momentarily dumbfounded. 

Memories of the previous night flash through his mind, and suddenly he becomes acutely aware of his morning arousal, discreetly straining against the front of his sweatpants.

“Mia?” he asks, voice thick with sleep. “What are you doing here?” 

He notices the set of clean towels in your hands, but his attention is captivated by the way your eyes sweep over his body, your lips forming a mischievous smile. Confusion tugs at his thoughts while a gentle, chilling breeze infiltrates his room, leaving his abdomen colder than usual.

Oh. 

OH. 

He doesn’t have his shirt on—shit. 

“Looking good Señor Gutierrez,” you tease, eyes going over his body one more time. “Mom told me I should help around, so I brought you your clean towels.” 

“Ah,” he says stupidly. “Gracias, querida. I hope she is not working you too hard.” 

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you shrug. “Besides, I’m staying here rent-free. I might as well do a bit of work.” 

He takes the towels, his hands feeling oddly disconnected, as if they belong to someone else. You flash him a final smile before pivoting on your heel. Javi watches with undeniable hunger as you confidently strutted away, his eyes admiring the way your hips sway as you saunter off. He feels the familiar stirring in his body, his cock demanding attention that he can’t give in the middle of the hallway. He continues to gaze until you vanish into one of the many corridors.

His throat feels unbelievably tight as he closes the door and heads to the bathroom. Javi feels a flock of birds pecking at his brain, reminding him of Prometheus. He doesn’t know what he should be feeling. The only thing he does know is that he shouldn’t be thinking of you in such a way. 

Javi stares at his reflection in the mirror. The whites of his eyes are stained red, the bags underneath prominent and dark. It looks as if he hasn’t slept in years. 

A deep sigh escapes his lips as he undresses. He won’t be seeing you like that again anyway, there’s no point in dwelling over something that only happened once.  

Javi had underestimated how frequently he would be seeing you around. Your gaze is constant. He knows you’re watching him without actually having to look; his skin tightens, the back of his head starting to tingle. You’re mostly doing chores and don’t stop to chat with him, which he’s grateful for. But still, from your gaze, he senses that unlike him, you do want to talk. 

The guilt is eating him from the inside out. Your naked form is engraved into the back of his lids, whenever he closes his eyes, he sees you. The sting of his eyes is constant, aching for moisture. He can’t fight against it and blinks, and as soon as he does, his cock grows hard.

Lucía would be furious with him if she knew—she’d be absolutely disgusted. 

He worries that you might’ve seen him last night. Maybe that’s why you wanted to stop and talk with him. Fortunately, the mansion is spacious enough to provide him with hiding spots, allowing him to retreat when needed.

With each passing hour of the day, his uncertainty and guilt fester within him like poison.

He hurries to his bedroom as soon as dinner is over. Normally, he would have a glass of wine, engage in conversation with the staff, and unwind. However, not today, not with you present. . . observing him. . . talking to him.

He just can’t. 

Javi ignores confused glances directed at him and excuses himself. The looks linger as he walks away, though there’s a probable chance that he might be imagining it. He’s convinced that you and your mother are both counting his every step.  He doesn’t turn to check.  

When he closes the door to his bedroom, back pressed snug against the wood, his breathing becomes strained, lungs rattling with every struggling gasp of air. His pupils blown, his gaze immediately flickers to your bedroom window. Much to his relief, and disappointment, the lights are off. 

Javi settles onto the bed, the watch on his bedside table ticking away, drawing closer to the time he had seen you naked yesterday. He finds himself waiting until the hands of the clock reach the exact same moment. The lights are still off. Another minute goes by. 

Then, finally, a beam of light that comes from a far pours through his windows, shadows stretching across the floor. He can breathe again. 

Standing in the middle of the room, you stretch, your arms seemingly reaching for the sun. Javi’s gaze follows your every move. He watches as you scroll on your phone for about five minutes on the bed. He watches as you disappear, leaving him to stare into an empty room. He watches as he swears he can hear the music that you’re blasting from your phone. 

He watches and waits until he can see you again. Just like the day before. Bare. Soft. 

His mouth waters, cock already throbbing with need. 

Javi’s not sure how long he waits. It could’ve been an hour or a minute, but whatever time had passed, you appear once again, the same towel wrapped around your body. 

His mouth dry, he swallows hard. Javi's breath catches in his throat as his eyes drift over your curves. Unbidden, his hand moves eagerly to his crotch, eyes fixated on you as he palms himself. His tongue peeks out, wetting his lips as you shift onto your stomach. Your towel slides up, revealing the perfect mounds of your ass, and he gulps, his fingertips trembling as he hastily unzips himself. A moan escapes him as he admires the lobes of your ass peeking from beneath the towel.

Precum already oozes from the tip, and Javi eagerly wraps his fingers around his hardening cock. His strokes are slick and smooth, his breaths coming faster.

Javi hears the rush of blood pounding in his ears as his breathing grows even more jagged with every passionate thrust of his hips. You lift your legs, spreading them apart and crossing them from side to side while watching a video from your phone, completely unaware. His hungry gaze is met with the entire expanse of your body exposed only to him as small water droplets still cling to your skin, cascading down your legs and wetting the area between them. The sinful image of your pretty pussy becoming wet and glistening spurs him on, he imagines how wet you’d be, only for him.

He pushes his hips harder against his fist, the need to feel connected to you driving him forward. His pounding heart is accompanied by an unquenchable craving to touch and explore every inch of your body. 

Javi’s grip tightens and tremors start to run through his body. His head drops back as his movements quicken, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. With a deep moan, his muscles coil tight as the pleasure cascades through him, a warm rush flooding every inch of him. He shudders joyfully and with a final thrust, he coats his fist in his own release.

His face is contorted in a blissful expression, his eyes closed in reverence. Drops of sweat slowly trickle down his toned body, drawing paths through the smattering of light brown hair that adorns his tanned skin. His lips are slightly parted as he drinks in the pleasure, a low moan coursing through his lips. 

With half-lidded eyes, Javi’s gaze drops down to his spent cock. He made a mess of himself and the floor underneath, the pearly droplets glistening in the soft light. 

He’s going to have to clean that.

The guilt comes rushing through. He’s disgusted by himself, the feeling tasting of bile that is thick on his tongue. It felt good at the given moment but now that his head is clearing, what he did just makes him feel sick. He’s quick to wipe the floor with one of his shirts, then tosses it into the laundry basket for cleaning.

Javi gives you one last glance before leaving the room, you’re still on your phone, completely oblivious to him. 

He decides to stay in one of the guestrooms that night, but it doesn’t stop with one. 

Javi stays there the next night, and the next— 

And the one after that. 

“Are you ignoring me?”

“What— No, why would you think that?” 

Javi was lying, of course. He’d been avoiding you like the plague, turning the other way whenever he saw you approaching him. It's been about a week since he changed rooms. He didn’t tell anyone about it, the house was big enough for him to occupy another room without anyone knowing. 

However, he hadn’t expected you to actively seek him out, which he now realized was stupid of him. He just wanted to do a bit of skeet shooting, a means to vent his frustrations. The morning was chilly and it made goosebumps rise across his skin. He enjoyed the feeling, which was why he skipped wearing a jacket. 

You, on the other hand, were covered from head to toe. 

“I don’t know,” you mutter, wrapping your arms around yourself. A faint cloud dances from your lips. “Maybe it’s just me being paranoid. You really don’t mind me being here, right?” 

Javi gently leans the gun against the sturdy stone rail. His heart clenches at your question, he never wanted you to feel guilty, or for you to feel unwanted. He slowly shakes his head, his gaze rising up to meet yours. 

“Por supuesto que no,” he responds, his voice quivering, the biting air seeming to grip his vocal cords as he struggles to express himself. Of course, he doesn’t mind. “You are free to stay here as long as you wish. I just…I have been—” 

He chokes up, mouth gaping, his gaze still fixed on yours. You're the first to look away, shifting your eyes elsewhere, and instinctively, you hug yourself tighter, trying to ward off the chill in the air. A nervous laugh escapes your lips.

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, at least, not if you don’t want to. I’m always happy to listen. I just wanted to be sure if I was overstaying my welcome or not.” 

“It’s okay. As I said, you are free to stay.” 

You smile at him then, asking him whether or not he'll be joining you for breakfast, he says that he’ll come after taking a couple more shots. You eye the rifle, eyebrow raised in a peculiar way. You state that it’s too cold and head inside. Javi stares as you leave, he decides not to shoot anything, instead, he follows you to the dining room. 

Javi moves back into his room that night. 

You had excused yourself early claiming that you felt dirty and needed a shower. Javi couldn’t help it. He waits, like always does. A week of not seeing you made him grow hungry, his body was left in a constant state of wanting. He needed to see you, he needed to cum while witnessing your naked body. 

This time he has no shame in ridding himself of his pants, wrapping a hand around himself, he lazily strokes himself. He still remembers every curve and crevice of your body, it haunts him day and night, decorating his dreams and nightmares alike. Javi’s eyes travel along the windowsill of your room, the lights are still off, much to his surprise. 

He’s startled as the door slams open, a triumphant “I knew it!” ringing out. 

With panic, Javi attempts to pull up his pants but the stubborn fabric sticks to his legs instead, making him stumble forward and almost falls off the bed. Luckily, he manages to catch himself at the very last second, planting himself firmly on the mattress. He hears the door close, more silently compared to how it was opened, he finds himself staring at your shoes. He gulps. 

“Why are you here?” he asks, voice horrified. “How long have you known?” 

“Not that long,” you answer. He still refuses to meet your gaze. “I had my suspicions when you started to avoid me, then I noticed you switched rooms. One night I waited in my room to see if you were watching or not.” 

Tears sting the corner of his eyes, he’s pathetic. Then, like a soothing oceanic breeze, he feels your finger curling underneath his chin, forcing his downcast gaze up. His cheeks flush at the soft touch. He expects you to laugh at him, but he finds a gaze of sympathy instead. You pull down his bottom lip and every bit of oxygen leaves his lungs. 

“Lo siento, Mia,” he whispers. 

“Está bien, I don’t care. I. . . I have an idea, actually.” 

Wide-eyed, he looks at you with concern. Your thumb still lingers on his lip, he enjoys it there, he enjoys the comfort you provide despite his mind screaming at him how disgusting and pitiful he is. 

“And what might that be?” 

“We can. . . help each other out,” you answer,  flustered, your breathing short. “If you want to, that is. I had a stressful year. . . I wouldn’t mind having some fun.” 

His brows furrow, “I do not understand.” 

Another lie. He did. He just couldn’t believe it to be true. 

“I think you do, Señor Gutierrez,” you tease. His heart skips a beat at the playful lilt of your voice, his mind is racing. You squeeze his bottom lip gently and his breath hitches. 

“I’m not—” he licks his lips, the tip of it touching the pad of your thumb. “I am not that experienced.” 

This time his whole body burns. He had lovers in the past, of course, but not many. None of those relationships lasted long either, how could it with the family that he had? He wasn’t even sure what he liked or disliked, and after a while, he just stopped trying to form a meaningful connection with anyone. He closed up, not really knowing what else to do with the cards he was dealt with. 

Your answer takes him by surprise. 

“That’s okay. We can learn new things about each other, together.” 

His heart flutters at the softness of your voice, the kindness of your smile. He parts his lips to speak, to tell you how grateful he is, but before he can, you drop to your knees, a sly smile stretching across your face. 

“Do you want my help?” you ask, your fingers spread across his thighs. He sucks in a sharp breath as you give him a gentle, yet firm, squeeze. “Tell me what you want, Javi.” 

“I would— I would love to feel your lips on my cock, princesa.” 

“Princesa?” you repeat, amused. “I like the sound of that.” 

He finds heaven between your lips. 

[cryptid-ghoulette]

Here in the still

Trying my hand at some raindrop angst with a happy ending. Poor Rain is exhausted and tired of feeling like a burden. definitely not a self insert. (also i probably wouldnt have posted this without @sister-nyx being rad as heck) nothing graphic, but some negative self talk, depression, chronic illness and angst (but happy ending)

WC - 1037

The good days were beginning to be outnumbered by the bad ones, and Rain's resentment towards his broken body was growing, settling into each crack and hollow inside his brittle and increasingly unstable bones. The aches became a part of him, something so familiar that he's worried he'd miss now if it ever left. He hated that thought because he knew it was probably true.

The others were always understanding, doting on him on days he could barely stand, holding him upright long enough to move from one collapsing surface to the next. Mount always had warm tea for him, Lus always let him use her softest blanket, and Phantom was always good for some healing hugs. Still, he wished they'd stop holding him like something so fragile, something that might break if held too tightly. He could feel the mix of pity and love, and the taste lingered sickly sweet in the back of his throat each time they fawned over him.

Some days, even leaving his room felt like too much, wishing desperately that his bed sheets would swallow him like an ocean and never let go. Tired of fighting with his own body, tired of being a burden to the others, especially his precious Dewdrop. It was just all too much.

Today was one of the bad days, but he didn’t know that until he got out of bed, and his knees immediately gave way underneath him, crumpling to the floor with a dull thud, leaving him sobbing into the carpet.

Dew rushed in immediately upon hearing the sound and found Rain on the floor, curled up into a ball, knees tucked as tight against his chin as he could possibly get them. The smaller ghoul quietly leaned over to touch Rain's shoulder, but the pain was too much, and he let out a venom-less hiss, part warning, part plea, unsure what he wanted or needed at this moment, unable to focus on anything other than the pain radiating through his entire body. Startled, Dew quickly pulled his hand back, before placing it down again, making a soothing hum in some small effort to calm him down.

Dew was always patient with him, more than he could ever have expected or possibly deserved. The fire ghoul constantly tried to heal the broken parts of him with equal parts heat and love, never letting Rain push him away, no matter how many times he’s yelled at him out of frustration and exhaustion to just leave him alone, let him rot in peace. He simply holds him, letting the water ghoul yell and cry and kick and scream until he aches, and there’s nothing left to cry.

He knew there had to be a breaking point though, not just for Dew, but for the others as well. A burden can only be carried for so long until it gets too heavy and you just have to put it down, and that's exactly what he was - a burden.

His stomach twisted into knots, his thoughts loudly telling him that Dew wouldn’t want to be with someone like him; he should be with someone stronger, not a weak, achy, broken water ghoul.

Rain's frustration boiled over as he snapped at Dew, his voice shaking with a mix of pain and anger.

"Why are you still here, Dew?"

His words came out sharper than expected.

"I don’t need the pity or constant hovering from you or the others. Just leave me alone!"

His outburst hung in the air, a heavy silence settling between them. Tears stung the corners of his eyes, and he felt a pang of guilt for lashing out at Dew. He knew the fire ghoul meant well, the fire ghoul loved him, but he was too exhausted to feel remorse at the moment. Raising his voice had made him dizzy, his brain too fuzzy with pain to think clearly.

He looked up to see Dew, his eyes glassy, his face showing a mix of concern and understanding. Dew's hand was still on his shoulder, still trying to soothe him. Even after he told him to leave, even after yelling at him for just trying to help.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his chest impossibly tight as he let the tears finally fall. The anger finally breaking the wall, drowning him in a flood of emotions; grief, remorse, fear, as he sank fully to the ground.

"I'm sorry,"

Rain choked out between sobs, his voice barely a whisper now.

"I didn’t mean... I just..."

Dew sank down on his knees beside him, gently rubbing the space between his horns.

“It’s okay, Lilypad. Just let it out. I'm right here."

His brain was still screaming at him, he wanted to push Dew away, yell at him, throw out words with such venom that it could never be undone, make the fire ghoul hate him, finally pushing him away for good.

But Dew remained beside him, whispering softly as his thumb smoothed the rough edges of his horns, and despite what his brain was trying to tell him, he felt safe.

Eventually, Rain's sobs quieted, and he tried to push himself up from the carpet, just enough to collapse into Dew's chest, leaning heavily into him, letting his arms wrap around him tightly.

Dew gently lifted Rain's chin up, his heart sinking when he saw just how tired the water ghoul was, eyes a dull blue, red-rimmed, and sunken. He placed a soft kiss on the water ghoul's forehead, quietly asking, “Are you okay to listen?”

Rain nodded, closing his eyes, taking a moment to savor the warmth from Dew's lips.

“I need you to understand. You're not a burden, Rain," he said firmly. "You're a part of our family, and we're here for you, no matter what.” He could see the disbelief creeping over Rain's face; he knew his mind wasn't going to let him believe it, but he kept speaking,

“You will always be wanted, and loved, by all of us,” he paused, considering his words,

“especially by me.”

Rain felt a tug at the corners of his mouth—an honest smile, fragile but real. “Thank you,” he whispered, burying his face back into Dew's chest.

“Anytime, Angelfish.”

[tzuyubit]

ups and downs

note: this was originally a request from a different fandom that i wrote for that i changed up a bit. i’m sorry if this ooc, this is my first time writing for tzuyu. please be nice and keep in mind i mean no harm at all.

sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes.

warnings: deals with the topic of eds.

. . .

: tzuyu?

: i'm sorry, i know it's late but

: i know you said to message you whenever i feel this way. so i am. but i feel so bad, i'm so sorry.

: i just didn't know what else to do.

if you had been in a rational state of mind, you would've opted out of texting tzuyu. you hated feeling like you were bothering her, but somehow she always managed to reassure you that nothing was ever too much for her to handle.

so in your frantic mindset, your thumbs raced out to reach her.

it's okay, you told yourself. she would want you to do this.

it was currently 2:36 in the morning and you were losing your grip on reality all because of the simple fact that you'd forgotten to log your food intake all day.

you'd gotten so carried away between lively things that it unintentionally slipped your mind.

how could you forget? it was such a habitual thing for you to do.

but between your panicked, rushed out breaths, you didn't hear the sound of your phone buzzing. the sound of tzuyu.

it had been twenty minutes since you sent her those texts, twenty minutes of you sitting on your bedroom floor, scribbled notebook in hand with tears rolling down your face.

meanwhile, tzuyu drove to your place of stay as fast as she could, not caring if she was breaking any laws. she knew you felt like a burden most of the time, so with that information she knew you wouldn't text her unless something was truly wrong.

the blonde woman didn't miss a beat rushing to your door. she fumbled with the key, cursing at how much of an inconvenience locked doors could be in such a moment of desperation.

tzuyu didn't have to think twice before making her way to your room, already hearing the sound of your cries the second she walked through the door. 

seconds later she was kneeling in front of you. "y/n? can i sit next to you?" you nodded, instantly bringing your shaky body into hers.

sh tensed at first, but put aside her distain for physical touch for the sake of your comfort.

"what happened?" she questioned, mechanically rubbing her hand up and down your back.

"it's stupid, so stupid." you sniffled, bringing your head into your knees. "i can't believe i forgot. it's not possible, i never forget!"

tzuyu took the time to scan your surroundings, finding torn pages from your notebook with scribbles covering lines with various amounts of numbers underneath them. it didn't take long for her to connect the dots, making you worry even more about what she was thinking of you.

"i'm sorry, i know you've never seen me in this state. it must be awkward for you." tzuyu frowned, her hand stopping all movement at once. "there's nothing for you to be sorry for. you know i prefer it when you text me. i'd rather be here with you than have you go through this alone." 

your breaths were still heavy and quick paced, but as you leaned into your girlfriend they seemed to lighten. tzuyu kicked your food diary out of view, hoping that maybe if you didn't see the "crime" you'd committed, you wouldn't feel so guilty.

"are you willing to talk about it?"

wiping your eyes, you attempted to speak through your labored breathing.

"i log my food, it's what i do. i have to do it. you know why." speaking was hard do to, tzuyu understood that. so she let you take as long as you needed, listening to each and every word you fumbled over. "i must've forgotten because i was so busy with everything today. i didn't even realize it until i noticed my journal laying on my nightstand untouched."

tzuyu nodded, taking in the information you so carefully passed to her and came to her own conclusions.

"so it's apart of your routine, right? one missed day will not hurt you, no matter what your brain is telling you. and even though i don't exactly support your habit of logging your food, mostly because from what i've read it's not enough fuel for your body, if it helps you and you need it, i'm here to support you. i know i'm not the best at physical comfort, but i'll still always be here for you. i hope you know that."

the blonde took your hand and moved you to your bed, sitting next to you as you laid down. she then placed her hand on your chest, "remember that it's just one day." 

you nodded, and for the next seven minutes or so watched tzuyu's chest rise and fall, eventually returning back to your own regulated state of breathing.

"mistakes happen, but they don't always make you a bad person, especially not something like this. i'm glad you reached out to me though, i just hope that one day you won't feel the need to rely on such a small thing for so much of your worth." 

you squeezed her hand, suddenly feeling exhausted from the extreme reaction. tzuyu stayed with you throughout the night, checking your every needs, never leaving your side until you felt safe.

[iamtired10]

warped in your warmth

— ★ fluffy headcanons!

pairing - newjeans x female reader

synopsis - how each member reacts when you come home after a tough day and just silently hug them, seeking comfort.

genre - fluff, slight angst (but very soft)

warning - nothing to worry about ig

a/n - school has been wearing me out and im feeling more tired than usual these days. writing this brought me some comfort, so i hope it does the same for u! :)

minji (kim minji)

minji always senses when something is wrong, even if you don’t say a word.

the second you approach her, and wrap your arms around her without a sound, she immediately knows that you’re carrying a heavy burden.

her arms instinctively envelop you, pulling you into her chest as if she could shield you from all the bad in the world.

but she feels the tension in your body, the way your fingers tighten around her shirt, and her heart sinks.

“baby.. what’s wrong..?” she whispers, her voice full of concern.

but when you don’t answer, minji doesn’t push.

instead, she pulls you down onto the couch, cradling you in her lap, resting her chin gently on your head.

the silence is deafening, but she knows that’s what you need right now. she strokes your back softly, a steady rhythm in sync with your breath, trying to calm the storm inside you.

it breaks her heart not knowing how to fix it, but she’s willing to stay like this as long as you need.

“i’m here,” she’d finally say, her voice cracking slightly. “you don’t have to say anything.. i’m just here..”

and that’s when you start to cry.

minji’s grip tightens, and for a moment, it’s hard to tell who’s comforting who, because her heart aches just as much seeing you like this.

she’d hold you until your tears stop, whispering reassurances between every sob, promising that no matter how hard the world gets, she’s not going anywhere.

hanni (pham hanni)

when you hug hanni out of nowhere, burying your face in her neck without a word, she feels a weight in her chest she can’t explain.

her usual bright, bubbly energy dims as she pulls you even closer, her arms wrapped tightly around you like she’s afraid you might slip away.

“hey.. hey, what’s going on..?” she’d whisper.

but when you don’t respond, she doesn’t ask again. instead, she sways with you gently, her cheek resting against your hair.

hanni can’t stand seeing you sad, but she knows sometimes all you need is for her to be there, holding you as the world falls apart around you.

still, it eats at her, the silence.

she hates not knowing how to help, feeling powerless to lift the weight off your shoulders.

after a while, she’ll try to break the tension with something light, “you know.. i’m pretty sure hugging me like this is illegal... because i’m already on the verge of stealing your heart, and now it’s a done deal.”

it’s a lame joke, but that’s hanni—trying to make you smile, even if it’s through tears.

when she feels you relax slightly, she breathes a sigh of relief, knowing she’s gotten through to you just a little.

she’ll keep hugging you, peppering soft kisses on your forehead until you’re ready to talk, or maybe just stay in her arms a little longer.

danielle (danielle marsh)

danielle’s heart practically shatters the moment you cling to her without a word.

she’s so in tune with your emotions that she almost feels your sadness as her own.

“oh.. y/n/n...” she murmurs, wrapping you in her arms so tightly that it’s like she’s trying to fuse your hearts together.

she doesn’t ask what’s wrong right away because she knows that sometimes the weight of the world is too much to put into words.

she’ll sit you down gently, her fingers playing with your hair as she whispers soothing words in your ear, “i’m here.. i’m right here, okay...?”

danielle would probably start humming a soft tune, trying to calm your racing thoughts, her voice warm and gentle.

but underneath that calm exterior, her heart is aching, wishing she could take your pain away.

“i hate seeing you like this.. it’s okay to cry, you know..” she’d say softly, and that’s when the tears would come.

her thumb would wipe away every tear, her gaze never leaving your face, eyes full of love and concern.

she listens when you’re finally ready to talk, holding your hand, squeezing it softly as if to say, i’m not letting go.

danielle will reassure you endlessly, “we’ll get through this, you and me..”

her words are like a soft lullaby, and in that moment, you realize she’s not just comforting you—she’s your safe place, the one who makes the pain feel a little less heavy.

haerin (kang haerin)

haerin’s quiet, observant nature is her greatest strength when it comes to moments like these.

the second you wrap your arms around her without explanation, she knows you need comfort.

she doesn’t say anything at first, just holds you tightly, her arms a protective shell around you.

her fingers gently run up and down your back, a silent gesture of reassurance, and she rests her head against yours, breathing you in.

there’s a deep sadness in her cat-eyes that you can’t see because haerin feels your pain as if it’s her own.

she stays silent, offering you her quiet strength instead of words.

but the way you’re holding on so tightly, like you’re afraid to let go, makes her chest tighten.

she wishes she could take the weight off your shoulders, but all she can do is stay with you, offering the warmth of her embrace.

after a while, she’d whisper, “i’m here.. i’m not going anywhere.”

haerin’s quiet presence is all you need, and even though she’s not asking questions, she’s listening in her own way.

she’d guide you to sit down, pulling you onto her lap if you’d let her, her hands still running through your hair.

she doesn’t push you to talk, but when you do, she listens with her whole heart, nodding quietly, her fingers never leaving your skin.

“we’ll get through this... together” she’d finally say, her voice soft but firm as if the world could fall apart.

but she’d still be there, holding you together.

hyein (lee hyein)

hyein is playful by nature, but when you silently hug her, she knows instantly that something’s wrong.

she’s a little taken aback at first, her arms stiff as she tries to figure out what to do.

but once she realizes you’re seeking comfort, she softens, pulling you closer.

“hey.. what’s going on?” she asks softly.

she’d hold you tightly, though it’s not as natural for her to stay still in moments like these.

but she tries, for you.

hyein might fumble a bit at first, unsure how to comfort you, but she’d quickly figure it out.

“you’re scaring me, you know..” she’d whisper, trying to coax a response out of you.

but when you stay silent, she presses her cheek against yours, her hands running up and down your arms in a soothing motion.

she hates seeing you like this, and it makes her anxious not knowing how to fix it.

so she does the only thing she knows how—she tries to lighten the mood.

“okay, so.. we’re just gonna sit here like this forever? i’m cool with that if you are,” she’d say, her voice teasing, though there’s a slight tremor in it.

eventually, she’d coax a small laugh out of you, and that’s when she feels like she’s done her job.

but she doesn’t let go—not yet.

instead, she keeps holding you, because she knows that right now, all you need is to be held.

[horsedadgeralt]

and all the things i left unsaid

After everything that has happened, Geralt and Jaskier are both broken. It takes a simple question to make them both come undone.

Please forgive me for writing so many fics with the same set-up, but there’s just so much hurt/comfort-potential...

wc: 1.1k cw: none tags: general audiences, hurt/comfort, post season 2

Geralt sighs, straightening his shoulders and taking in one last breath to calm himself before he lifts his hand and knocks on the door in front of him.

A muffled “Come in,” is shouted in response and he grabs the door handle and opens it, stepping inside the room. It is warm, wood crackling in the fireplace and casting orange shadows all over the wall.

There are a few candles lit on the table nearby as the only source of light. It should feel cosy. It doesn’t.

“You weren’t at dinner,” Geralt says, states matter-of-factly. You weren’t at dinner and I was worried is what he wants to say. He doesn’t.

“I wasn’t hungry.” Defiance. Anger. Indifference. Jaskier looks at him with tired eyes, the dark circles underneath them even more accentuated by the low light. He’s sat on his bed, legs sprawled out and his back against the wall. Geralt tries to ignore the bottle in his hand, but can’t ignore the smell of wine that is leaking from every one of Jaskier’s pores.

“You weren’t at lunch either.” You weren’t at lunch either and I missed you.

Jaskier shrugs. “What’s it to you?” If he wants to sound spiteful he’s failing, his voice far too weak, trembling and the words slurred.

 Everything.

Tentatively, Geralt steps forward, makes his way across the room until his knees are nearly touching the bedframe.

The smell of wine is almost too much. How much have you had today already? he wants to ask. He doesn’t. Instead, he bows down, takes the bottle from Jaskier’s hands and puts it on the table next to the bed. The bard doesn’t even fight it, just lets his head slump loosely against the wall. He looks so tired.

“When was the last time you slept?” Why didn’t you tell me that you can’t sleep?

“What’s it to you?”

“Jaskier, I—”

“Oh fuck off, Geralt.”

He deserves it. He deserves the anger, deserves the hate, the venom dripping from every word. And still, it hurts, feels like a dagger piercing his heart and every syllable drives it in deeper, twists it a little more.

But this isn’t about him. Jaskier is hurting just as much, no, more. When Yennefer told him about what had happened back in Oxenfurt, Geralt wanted to give him space. Wanted it to be Jaskier’s choice to open up about it. He’s starting to realize that perhaps it never was what the bard needed.

He kneels down to the ground. It’s cold and hard and his bad leg is already starting to ache, but he ignores the little flares of pain pulsating throughout it.

Jaskier is still looking at him, eyes hooded. There’s no spark in them, and it’s not just the darkness of the room making it appear that way. Oh how Geralt wants to reach out, wants to lift the burden off of him. Make the pain his. He deserves it. He can carry it.

“May I?” he asks, reaching out until his hand is hovering above Jaskier’s. He wants to take away the pain, but he wants it to be by Jaskier’s choice. His heart is fluttering in his chest and it takes all his willpower not to start shaking.

When the bard nods, it feels like time is slowing down when Geralt reaches for his hand. He can’t imagine what it must have felt like. Yes, he has been burned before, but he’s a Witcher. He was forged to withstand pain. He was created to battle people like Rience. Jaskier was not, and the burnt skin underneath Geralt’s fingertips makes his vision go blurry.

There’s no point hiding it, and it’s pathetic, really. First, he couldn’t protect Jaskier and now he’s crying over the bard’s wounds. If only he could find the words to say what he’s been wanting to say for so long.

 Forgive me. Please, I beg you, forgive me. I need you. Forgive me, please.

He hears Jaskier take in a shaky breath that makes him look up. The bard has slumped forward, his head hanging low. But even the hair covering his eyes is unable to mask the quiet sobs that shake his body.

What a pair they make.

And then Geralt climbs on top of the bed and pulls Jaskier close, hooks his arm underneath the bard’s legs and lifts him onto his lap, not willing to leave even an inch of space between them.

As he holds him tight and Jaskier buries his face in his neck, the tears wet on his skin, Geralt lets out a sob himself. His chest feels tight and yet it feels so much lighter than it has in weeks, each teardrop tearing down another wall he had built around himself.

He presses a kiss to the bard’s forehead and underneath all the wine, he still smells like Jaskier, like decades of companionship and shared beds and—

“I’m sorry, Jaskier.” He almost doesn’t say it, too weak, too vulnerable. But what is there left to lose? Jaskier has seen every part of him, ugly and angry and vile. Still, he hasn’t left, hasn’t kicked him out of his room.

The feeling of the bard’s heartbeat against his chest makes Geralt‘s eyes well up once more. He’s here. He’s alive. He’s broken. They’re broken.

“Forgive me,” he begs. “Please, forgive me.” I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.

There’s no response, but then a hand is pressed to his cheek and softly caresses it. The skin on its fingers is bumpy and too soft, too fragile. Geralt is afraid even his stubble could tear it open.

Still, he leans into the touch. It’s been too long since he’s been touched like that. It’s been too long since he’s been touched.

“I—” he begins once more before he’s cut off.

Jaskier pulls back, looks at him with puffy skin and tears all over his face. He’s still sniffling, his chest still heaving, but his eyes look different. There’s no spark, only the nearby fire reflecting in them. And yet they look clearer, like a veil that had previously been covering them has been lifted.

“I know.”

“You deserve more, Jaskier. I couldn’t protect you, I wasn’t there, I couldn’t keep you safe—”

He only stops talking when Jaskier takes his face into his hands and pulls him in, their foreheads almost touching.

“I would do it again. I would do it time and time again. And I don’t regret doing it.”

The tears are back, stronger than ever and this time it’s Jaskier who pulls him close, who holds him.

He doesn’t deserve this. Doesn’t deserve the hand that is stroking his hair, the soft words being whispered into his ear.

“I want to make it up to you,” Geralt splutters out in between sobs. “I want to take away your pain.” Make it mine. He searches for Jaskier’s hand and interlaces their fingers, careful not to press too hard. They could both break apart if he does.

“How about we share it?”

tagging @cthulhusteve @herostag and @luteandsword ✨

[apompkwrites]

Hi, hello 👉👈

I really love the streamer AU and would like to request Albedo, Xiao, Tartaglia and Kaeya's reaction to reader's possible death theories

Just like the theories we have about them, I wonder how would they react to their favorite character possibly having a "bad ending" in the game

Like how Mona said that Kaeya's fate would catch him soon, or about Xiao's karmic thing

Sorry for bothering and thank you ✨

reader impact || fan theories

series masterlist characters: albedo, childe, kaeya, xiao genre: angst? is that what you would call this?? i don't know. summary: with so much backstory and lore, there are bound to be fan theories on the different characters in genshin. what happens when our streamers read some... unfortunate endings regarding you? notes: i normally don't look at theories... ugh mihoyo why. anyway, i made the written portions before the bullet points act as a theory fic or something similar to that :)

albedo -

"i have the utmost faith in you, traveler," you mutter as the star on your neck seems to crack. your neck begins to split apart and light pink light glows from underneath it. the cracks travel throughout your body.

your hands are pitch black and your upper arms are pink with a soft gradient connecting the two colors. you shake and tremble in what remained of your dragonspine camp. several chemicals and glass shards are scattered across the dirt floor.

"please. as my... former assistant. stop me."

albedo almost closed the tab right there.

the only thing stopping him is his chat, who is just freaking out about the fan theory comic sent to him.

the notebook on his desk, which still had a camera pointed at it, was filled with frustrated scribbles and illegible drawings.

he almost broke his pencil.

he just wants to leave.

he's been streaming his reaction to plenty of fan theories about genshin's universe, such as paimon's origins and possible endings for the other characters.

he thought that you would have fun happy theories.

no.

not at all.

remember when i said he would pretend nothing bad is happening to you during his first meeting?

yeah, he held that denial until now.

now he's forced to confront the (very possible) idea that you will be a boss he'll have to fight later.

he absolutely loves the person who made the art.

he absolutely hates that this idea is the only thing he'll think about for... at least half a year.

childe -

"this... this is it for me, huh?" you heave, your body sprawled out on the bloodied grass and dirt. your weapon has long been abandoned, tossed to the side like trash. "you... fought valiantly as always, sweetheart. i'm... i'm proud of you."

it wasn't supposed to end like this. you were never supposed to die here, surrounded by the remnants of your enemies and comrades. you were supposed to go home.

to your family. introduce them to the otherworldly traveler you lovingly dubbed sweetheart.

"ah, i broke my promise, didn't i?" you hum, staring up at the sky through half-lidded eyes. "i told you i would introduce you to my family. my siblings would have loved you... i guess i'll be thrown on the ice for breaking it, won't i?"

he can and will ugly cry at this theory.

he doesn't even care he's caught on stream crying.

it just hits too close to home, especially as a big brother himself.

he'd call his siblings into his streaming room.

and once they come inside?

he'll hug them.

and hold them.

he'll promise to you that if that day ever did come in the game, he'd find a way to get to your siblings and meet them.

it doesn't matter if the game doesn't let him.

he'll either find it on his own in-game (which would probably grant him an achievement) or commission someone to make fanart/write a fic about this encounter.

and until then, he'll make sure to treasure you in his party.

kaeya -

"this soon, huh?" you chuckle dryly. your brows are furrowed as you stand alone. you knew this day would come. why wouldn't it?

fate was always cruel like that. coming to mondstadt for your people then growing close to the outsiders there. it was always cruel. it didn't matter if you were good or bad, fate always had a plan for you.

"what should i do?" you mutter, seemingly weighing your options in your hands. "take revenge for my people... abandon them for a new home... what would be the best choice?"

there wasn't one. and you knew that all too well. you knew you had to make a choice or else the universe would make it for you.

and if you left it up to chance... neither home you had grown with would survive.

can we go back to the simpler times, please?

all he wants is to go back to the beginning of the game when he was oh so naive.

he wanted to boot up the game again and just flirt with you until he passes on.

this theory... will actually be the death of him.

thinking you'll be forced to choose the future of mondstadt, or even teyvat, is an idea he wants to abandon entirely.

he wants to give you a glass of your favorite drink and get wasted until the sun comes up.

he takes this as a personal attack and will refuse to believe it.

but sometimes he does.

and when that happens, it's time for a drink.

just like you.

he'll join you in drinking your sorrows away for all eternity.

xiao -

"it's been years since i last heard the song of the dihua flute," you growl, clutching onto your cracking mask. the object is permanently stuck to your face. the only way to see your strained face was to look closely at the cracks, which allow a sliver of your skin to escape.

it's been a millennium or so since you started protecting liyue in secret. it's been a millennium or so since you started carrying the heavy burden of karmic debt on your shoulders.

"i have promised you that i would strike you down if you were ever taken by the darkness," you comment as your body involuntarily grabs your weapon. "i only wish for you to do the same for me. allow me... to peacefully... join their ranks."

he hates how probable this is.

and he hates how he actually believes this will happen.

he doesn't want to.

but there's too much evidence pointing to it.

all of your lore and the patterns the other yakshas followed...

he'll end the stream right there because he is not dealing with all of these emotions in front of a bunch of people.

he doesn't need that right now.

what will he do when he ends the stream?

probably contemplate everything he's known until this point.

and then look for fan content about you.

happy fan content.

he's the type of person to read fanfics about you.

be it reader insert or just general stories, he'll read it.

he just wants to think about you having happy endings :)

please, he's desperate for some fluff.

[blzzrdstryr]

Moth into flame. Yandere!Kaeya x gn!reader

Wordcount: 4k

A.N: It’s very self-indulgent, but I had this idea for 2 weeks now and needed to get it out. I’ve never written fanfiction and I am not a native speaker, so bear with me.

CW: Violence, unhealthy relationship

For as long as you know Kaeya, he feels different from other people. Odd in the way that empty alleyways and dark rooms are odd, a sense of barely concealed danger lurking underneath the layers of charm and friendliness. You always felt his darker nature, but never questioned it before - you are an adventurer after all, the danger is your thrill.

He must have known that you aren’t particularly repulsed by this side of him, as his friendly facade morphed into something darker right in front of you for a couple of times. You doubt a liar and an actor as skilled as he is would make such amateurish mistakes.

No, he can’t be ignorant about how his more ominous part is what makes your veins sing from the strange mix of fascination and fear. That must be why he kept flashing his less amiable side, enticing you further in his grasp, and you gladly took step after step in the carefully crafted trap he prepared just for you.

How could you not? Kaeya is charming and dangerous, like wildfire  and you are nothing but a moth, too blinded by his light to stop and just think.

And now, seeing an irrefutable, but faux proof of the crimes you didn’t commit in his hands, you feel it - how searing his casual coldness can be. Right now, Kaeya Alberich is no human in your heart, he is a small piece of abyss that made its way out of Khaenri’ahn ruins to drag you down the cosmic darkness, where you possibly truly belong.

***

Kaeya both loves and hates your first meeting and he avoids reminiscing about it. It sounds strange, right?

Back then he was still a part of Ragnvindr household and Diluc treated him like a brother, and maybe that is a small part of a reason why he feels such aversion to recalling it - those memories are tinted both by fond nostalgia and bitter loss, enough to make him itch for a bottle in his hand.

Both Kaeya and you were green rookies - a knight fresh from training and a beginner adventurer, accidentally teaming up against a gang of treasure hoarders. It all ended up with both of you victorious, but injured. Kaeya helped you to walk back to Monstadt as one of the criminal's bolts wounded your leg, enough to make you wince from pain at every step.

In the middle of the trail he suddenly grew bored from your barely suppressed pained expressions and soft pants, no matter how cute they were to him, and decided to carry you, just like the groom would carry his  bride. He quipped and joked about it, as he made his way to the city's general direction, and you laughed and made some witty remarks in return.

At the moment he didn't think too much of it - you were another adventurer in his eyes back then, a cute, but insignificant passerby in his life and he was just playing a role of gallant knight in shiny armor. Give it a week or two and he would forget your face and your name.

But he didn't.

Just as you were approaching city gates, a miracle happened - red vision materialized right in your hands. You clutched it tightly to the chest, a bright smile appearing on your face. You turned your head to Kaeya, and he could have swore you were using your newly acquired Pyro on him.

How else could he feel so warm inside all of a sudden?

He couldn't help but recall your smile for weeks after that.

***

Your second meeting happened when you were returning to Mondstadt after your first long expedition. Shortly after the word of your Pyro vision reached Cyrus' ears, he was dead set on sending you to Dragonspine to help other adventurers. You were hesitant at first, but then your natural thirst for thrill combined with a hefty pay he promised won over you, and here you were - carrying several stacks of starsilver, absolutely exhausted and frozen to the very bones walking back to Mondstadt.

To say that you were unprepared would be an understatement of the year - even with pyro vision the cold seemed absolutely unbearable and to make matters worse you almost had a run in with a frostarm lawachurl. To avoid hopeless fight, you had to hide behind the tall snowdrift, almost submerging your body in it, as you both admired and dreaded the ice cladden giant.

Nonetheless, you acquired all of the starsilver the adventure guild needed, and now you trekked through the forest as the sun started to set.

Straining your eyes to see through the heavy rain and approaching darkness you saw it - a bright red smudge against the dark tree bark and unmistakable scent of blood. Such stark contrasts were enough to shake off the tiredness. You slowly made your way to the source of the stench, both fearing and anticipating what may reveal itself to your curious eyes.

There was a silhouette of an injured man that started to slowly morph into a vaguely familiar figure as you got closer. Seeing that there was no threat, you threw your ore to the ground and ran to the unconscious person. It was that knight who helped you to defeat treasure hoarders, Kaeya.

He looked horrible - his normally rich bronze skin now looked ashen and grey from the bloodloss, the face that radiated smugness seemed as if it already belonged on the corpse, the blue vest that he was wearing dyed almost completely in purple from the bloodloss, but the most horrible thing was a shallow but wide gash on his chest.

Not wasting any second, you pulled out your trusty dagger, and sliced the vest to inspect the wound. As you pulled obstructing cloth away you noticed another detail - small burns, surrounding the gash, as if someone slashed Kaeya with something hot enough to scorch, but not hot enough to close the wound and most unexpectedly, faintly glowing blue orb. A cryo vision.

You sat on your knees to put his vision in your pocket and clean his wounds. It still bled, as you frantically searched for a way to close it your eyes fell on the small burns around the wound and suddenly a crazy idea popped up in your head.

With shaking hands you used a piece of sliced vest to muffle him and prevent Kaeya from accidentally biting his tongue off, and then you took the dagger again heating it up. You heard about cauterization from older adventurers, but hoped that you wouldn’t resort to using it.

Kaeya’s pained groans were muffled by the makeshift gag, yet it wasn’t enough to wake him. After you made sure that his bleeding stopped, you removed your outerwear and wrapped Kaeya up. You cursed, as you hoisted a heavier body on your back, an exhaustion you have forgotten moments ago hitting you with a renewed strength.

The path to the Mondstadt with a new burden on your back now felt ten times longer. Even if you two were barely an acquaintance, a cold coil of fear for Kaeya's life still set in the pit of your stomach, and it seemed that no amount of fire would make you feel warm again.

***

Waking up in the infirmary was one of the biggest surprises in Kaeya’s life.

There were times when he was sure of his imminent death - an abandoned shivering child all alone in the forest, a stranger in the strange land, a prince of nothing with the weight of the whole dying kingdom left on his shoulders; a rainy night reeking of death and loss, grief and fury burning him just as much as incandescent claymore, rapidly growing pool of bright red blood, just as red as a…

Kaeya was okay with dying - it would be a nice ending to his story. The dead saviour of an already dead nation, an outlander casted out from the only semblance of home he had. He liked the irony.

He could have asked for help right after the duel, calling out that person’s name, he knew that that person wouldn’t leave him if he was dying, but the possibility of seeing hatred in those eyes was too much for him. The second a fiery blade cut through his flesh was when Kaeya decided to die.

And honestly, he couldn't continue to live once he confirmed what kind of a monster he is - the first thing he felt when he saw Crepus Rangvindr, a person who took him in, kept him fed, warm, safe and clothed all these years, a person who loved him more than his own father did, slowly disintegrating under the strain of delusion Kaeya felt no sadness. No, a relief, as if he was freed of a tiresome burden came instead.

Kaeya was disgusted and horrified for even experiencing such feelings in the first place, but he also couldn't do anything with it - for the last few years he was torn apart between Mondstadt and his homeland, and Crepus’ death should have solved his internal dilemma, driving the final nail in the coffin.

Sometimes he felt as if he was no person at all, just an abyssal creature that took on a human form and was allowed to live only to be unleashed on Teyvat. The time at Khaenri’ah was something that stuck with him for the rest of his life - the fear and resignation he experienced there heavily imprinted on his brain.

Every once in a while he had impulses to lie, to hurt and do as he pleases, for a long time he stopped these urges at the root, maintaining the illusion of normalcy he built for Ragnvindr household. He knew it was from Khaenri’ah, a cursed  nation of sinners with all of its glorious legacy lost to the sands of time. Immoral impulses were something that would have helped him to survive among the endless darkness that surrounded god-forsaken place.

“Ugh”, he tried to get up, to shake intrusive and self-deprecating thoughts away, but failed. Pain, like melted iron, slowly spread from his chest to the points of his fingers in a second. Even breathing was hard - his entire body ached and burned, a shaking hand slowly touched bandaged torso. Alberich winced as he remembered why exactly it was aching.

“Sir Kaeya, you are already awake! Please, don’t move.”, pretty but forgettable nun fussed over him, rechecking his bandages and then taking out a foul smelling medicine. She made Kaeya drink it all. He still cringing from the bitter taste, half sat on the bed, leaning on the headrest, tried to flash her his most charming smile and asked:

“Do you know how I got there?”, it seemed his charms did work on the girl, as she started to describe the previous night in great detail: what she was doing prior to his arrival, how dark the sky was, how worried she was when she saw his battered body, how exhausted the adventurer and guards that delivered him looked.

“Do you happen to know the adventurer’s name? I would like to say my thanks once I get better”

“Oh, it was [First], I think, but I am not sure.  I believe I saw a pyro vision” Kaeya slid in the lying position again, as he remembered you, his first and only crush. Half buried feelings ignited in his chest with a renewed vigor.

Seeing that Kaeya paid her no mind, the nun headed to the exit of the infirmary, but right before she left she turned to Kaeya again, saying that you will visit him tomorrow.

****

Just as you thought Kaeya was conscious today. After you managed to carry him back to Mondstadt, worried but distrustful guards at city gates took away your load and delivered him to the Church of Favonius. You insisted at coming with them, still anxious for Kaeya’s life. Nuns almost showed you out of the infirmary and you, defeated, had to go home.

The next day you spent looking for the abandoned starsilver, thoughts occupied both by Kaeya and the payment Cyrus promised. Fortunately, the stacks lied right where you discarded them and after a quick trip back to the adventurer's guild, you had nothing to do - weekly commissions done days prior, so you decided to spend some time inside the city for once.

As you navigated the city square you felt the tense mood that hung in the air, Mondstadt usually cheerful and carefree now seemed uncharacteristically gloomy. You later learned that the local wine tycoon, Crepus Ragnvindr, died in the accident and his son and young the youngest captain in history of Ordo Favonius, Diluc, left the city and abandoned the knights.

Despite spending almost all of your time outside the city gates, even you were aware of the city's happenings and certainly heard about two dashing young gentlemen. Kaeya was rumored to be a foreign orphan taken in by Crepus and Diluc as you remembered is a claymore swinging pyro user - a picture of Kaeya’s injuries came to mind. Scattered details started to slowly gather into a sound theory.

A fight after Crepus' death(was accident Kaeya’s fault?), that resulted in Diluc abandoning the knights(Are knights also at fault?).

You quickly brushed it off, as theorizing without the concrete evidence was one of the biggest mistakes one could make. So instead of building baseless speculations, you decided to visit one of the key people, Kaeya. Occupied by your thoughts and curiosity, the travel to the church seemed almost momentarily.

Stepping in the infirmary you were hit with a strong bitter scent of the medicine, but Kaeya sitting on the bed seemed fine, if not a bit tired. He was reading a book, but put it aside as he noticed you and gave you a warm smile.“I remember you, [First], you were the one who saved me I was told. Seems I should make it up to you”

“No need for it, you were dying”, you head to him, a hand searching for the vision in the travelling bag. His smile doesn’t drop, even when a somewhat awkward silence hangs around you. Finally, you exclaim: “I found a vision near you, and kept it so it doesn’t get lost or anything”.

“Oh, that’s a surprise, give it to me” the vision in his hands glows alive with a gentle blue light, a small ice shard forming between his fingers and you find yourself holding your breath. Kaeya looks less impressed than you, a strange emotion written on his face,as he looks from the blue orb, to the ice, to your amazed face.

“It may sound rude, but do you remember who injured you?” Kaeya doesn’t appear phased, slowly blinking, a confusion written on his face, as he looks up in contemplation. “Hm, no, can’t remember anything” You shift a little, disappointment not reaching your face. Was Kaeya lying or not?

“I hope I didn’t mess up your adventuring schedule” Kaeya murmured, leaning a little closer to you.

“No. I planned on spending a week inside the city. Why do you ask?”

“Well” he smirks, “maybe a brave and strong adventurer will lend a hand to poor injured me and”, you felt your face slowly heating up “escort me to Good Hunter, the food here is abysmal and maybe your company and decent meal will clear my head a little”

Only a day later you realized that it was your first date.

***

Kaeya likes challenges, and maybe that is a reason why he’s so drawn to you - you’re smart, just not people-smart, and you have enough intuition to guide you away from the schemes and plans he tries to pull off. Of course, he wouldn’t risk your life or general wellbeing - he likes your presence far too much to do that - but the possible less savory reactions he could gauge out of you were too alluring to miss out - frustration, fear, anger.

Alberich is frustrated - a hunger that was ignited by you grew greater and greater with each day - he wants to see so much of you, see you in pain, see you helpless, see you defeated. Would you cry, would you yell, would you curse at him?

He tried to resist it in the beginning - just as he did when he was still a part of Ragnvindr family - but he failed. Maybe, Diluc’s dismissal of him and abandonment was something that broke Kaeya in the way that Khaenri’ah couldn’t. That rainy day he learned one lesson - everyone leaves, and Kaeya didn’t doubt that you would too.

You are an adventurer after all, as free as a wind. It’s just pure luck that someone as curious and thrill-seeking as you hasn't moved to the other nations in search of excitement.

Kaeya feels threatened.

Over the years, you both fell in the comfortable, but vague place between friendship and something-more-than-friendship,a status quo of sorts. You were a loner at heart - fine with keeping almost everyone at arm’s length and Kaeya, to his disappointment, found that even his charms wouldn’t bend your will.

He could see how uncomfortable yet excited you got, when he showed his less considerate side - when he arrested and fought criminals, when he pulled off his complex plans, when he turned and twisted the words of others to make them scream and writhe and beg. Oh, of course you tried to hide it, your face becoming akin to a mask of stone, but there were other tells - the shine in your eyes, the body language and accelerated breath.

Kaeya also knew what an excitement glutton you are - there is a flame inside of you, needing to consume and devour new tastes, sights, adventures and mysteries. You are predictable in that way, he has a gut feeling that you are wary of him, but the promise of a new enigmatic crime that needs your assistance is almost always enough to lure you back into his arms.

And now he has a new problem at hands - his failed plan. Months of subtle work and manipulation led and were supposed to build up your feelings for this. A public love confession, both sudden and extravagant. Kaeya thought that someone as awkward as you, would cave in under the pressure he would put you through by making his love public.

However you didn’t, even if some, if not most of the onlookers gasped in the shocked disappointment - Kaeya was sure that you two looked like a would-be-couple to the observer’s eye. You stuttered some apologies, hid your face and almost ran away from him.

It grates on Kaeya’s nerves in a special way, annoyance slowly building up. Fortunately, he has a strategy to relieve it, by methodically destroying it’s source.

***

“Thank you, let’s do the next commissions together” you wave goodbye to the fellow adventurer, missing an indiscernible look cavalry captain gives both of you.

Only when the said adventurer leaves, does Kaeya step out of the shadow, his single eyes wholly focused on you. After the confession you started to purposefully avoid him - something that Kaeya thought was possible, but didn’t entertain it enough.

Seeing him is what almost sends you to retreat - relationships are messy, especially after failed public confessions, there’s too much burden now and you never felt the desire to work on any of them leaving everything to take its course. Instead, you stand there, enduring his cold gaze and warm smile, hit by a sudden realization of how childish your thoughts are.

Kaeya must have taken your passiveness as an invitation, as his hand snakes around your shoulder, throwing you off your internal monologue. “[First], I have an interesting case again” he leans in, his breath tickling your neck, “and I need an assistant again, the pay will be like last time”.

In spite of your current discomfort you almost space out, body habitually relaxing near him. “What the thing about?” the cases that Kaeya involves you in are always bizarre and something never seen before, a mystery awaiting to be solved.

He begins describing it to you - a strange string of deaths of young adventurers, all of whom were visionless and most curiously they all died off duty. Young men and women did their commissions, plunged in the domains and fought with monsters, but died inside the city walls, inside their houses and beds, surrounded by safety and comfort.

Kaeya shares that his informant found a hearsay that there were some interesting potions on the black market and he needs you to infiltrate as a visionless adventurer and buy potions, as much as possible.

This evening you leave the city, your heart full of trust for Kaeya, even if your relationship did take a colder turn.

***

You, as Kaeya predicted, still believed him.  Alberich almost felt bad for exploiting and twisting your trust in him , but as he supposed there was nothing more he could do with himself. Your visage filled his head day and nights, sometimes he even daydreamed about the life he would have with you. It would be delightful - to have you underneath his thumb, ready for any whim and perversion he could come up with.

He came to the Angel’s share and ordered a glass of wine, ignoring judgemental stare Diluc pointed at him. He could almost hear Ragnvindr saying “already” and calling Knights inefficient and lazy drunkards. Kaeya happily took a sip of the liquid - all of his plans always carried an element of risk, so the cavalry captain felt a bit agitated. What if you don’t touch the potions? What if the gang will escape with them?

Nevertheless, if you did touch it or not wouldn’t really matter, as catching you red-handed was more important. He needed to make you look guilty - you worked with him unofficially, which meant that no one knew about it, not even Vile. Sure no one would take your word over his, even if you left significant evidence of your innocence, after all a lot of knights are weak to bribes.

He almost hummed, as he imagined things he would do to you once you were imprisoned and completely in his power. He, of course, would save you from the dank dark cell, finding an “overlooked” detail, but not before breaking and molding you a little.

Finishing his wine, he went to the knight’s headquarters, to request the assistance of other knights in the arrest of a dangerous criminal, a spring evident in his step.

***

It was treasure hoarders again, you silently cursed, while dodging one of the attacks. You weren’t the best actor and within the minutes they exposed you. Fighting among the fragile vials wasn’t the best idea, so you moved the fight to the outside. Once they all run after you, you jump over them, raining a constant stream of fire over them. Some of them started to scream, a pure agony written on their face.

Some of the hoarders used a hidden gas bomb, submerging the whole place in smoke and using it to run away. You didn’t run after them, and headed inside instead. There was a significant change: some of the vials that contained transparent liquid now were bright red. You took one of them in and gasped - it felt so warm in your hands - and then you recognized your own elemental energy.

Out of curiosity you reached for the “uncontaminated” one, the colorless liquid rapidly bloomed with scarlet red, as your vision came to life without your command. Was it that deadly potion that Kaeya talked about? You felt how it sucked some of the pyro energy from you, then it must transmit collected energy to its consumer. No wonder all of those adventurers died - without a vision their bodies weren’t used to receiving and processing such amounts of elemental energy.

You tried to take the vials with the “clear” potion, but no matter what you did all of them got dyed in red the second you stood a little closer. Sighing in defeat you collected ones contaminated with your energy and prepared to head back to Mondstadt. You needed to warn Kaeya to take some regular knights with him if Albedo needed samples for analysis.

Suddenly there was a sound of several people running up to you, a Favonius armor coming into the sight. You almost smiled as you saw Kaeya, happy that he decided to help you, until you heard it: “Arrest them!”

[ragingbookdragon]

It's Who We Are Underneath That Defines Us

Kyle Rayner x Batsis One-Shot

Word Count: 1.9K Warnings: Explicit Language, Slight Angst

Author's Note: Really gotta make the story where the Batfamily learns she and GL are dating. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

“Hey babe?”

She hummed absentmindedly, her eyes still trained to the stars above. “Yeah, Kyle?” Fingers twitched against her palm, then laced with her own; a heartbeat pounded against her skin, like a pulsing speaker, causing her to look over at him. “Is everything alright?”

Evergreen eyes met hers and he murmured, “Do you ever think about what life would be like if you weren’t a superhero?”

She blinked, the question giving her a slight pause. Leaning closer, she propped her chin in his shoulder and teased, “Thinking about how you could’ve had an apple pie and picket fence life, Kyle?”

A grin crossed his lips and he glanced over at her. “To be honest with you, (Y/N), I’m more of a cherry pie kinda man.” His gaze dropped, and his eyes roamed her body. “Blame Warrant on that one.” She rolled her eyes, but the laugh she gave him showed her amusement. Kyle paused, his gaze searching her face. “But back to my original question...what do you think you’d be doing if you weren’t a vigilante?”

(Y/N) inhaled deeply, rolling away from his shoulder and laid on her back, her eyes scanning the immense field of stars above them. “I don’t know, honestly. I’ve never really given it much thought.” Raising her hand, she traced the scars across her expanse of her arm with her eyes. “I’ve been training to be a vigilante since I was ten years old...helping people is all I’ve ever really wanted to do with life.”

She looked back over at him. “But since you asked, if I wasn’t a vigilante, I’d probably be a stuck-up rich bitch who overcharges her dad’s credit cards and throws hissy fits when she gets told no.” Kyle snorted, and she giggled.

After a moment of silence, he looked to her and asked, “Would you ever change anything you’ve done?”

The question he’d given her had been one she’s asked herself so many times. What if’s rising to the tongue of a girl too afraid to choose a path other than that of the least resistance, but ultimately keeping them contained and taking the hardest ones anyway. (Y/N) bit her lip slightly, the memories of every mistake, every wrong choice, flashing behind her eyes like lightning in a storm. The fingers laced though hers squeezed gently, dragging her from them, and she glanced back over, her eyes tracing the wisps of hair at his temples that had fallen from the gel he’d put in it earlier.

She blinked, then gave him a smile, her voice soft as she replied, “No...I don’t think I would change a single thing.”

Kyle’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he questioned, “Why not? Hasn’t there been a time where you’ve screwed up monumentally and couldn’t change it?”

(Y/N) watched him carefully, the words toying with the tip of her tongue as she asked calmly, “Are you talking about what happened to Alex?”

His face momentarily darkened, a mixture of anger, hate, and self-loathing, then it fell, and she saw the pain and regret in his eyes and heard it in his voice as he muttered, “I’m talking about everything that I’ve done wrong.” He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, the heel of his tennis shoes scraping against the brick of the roof. He let out a heavy sigh, causing her heart to tighten, and she rose beside him, curling her arm through his.

They stared at the city across the water, then she murmured, “When I was sixteen, I accidentally shoved someone over a support beam during a fight.” He eyed her, silently wondering what had happened and just what the hell this had to do with his issues. “Didn't mean to, of course. But he grabbed me from behind, and I did what I'd been trained to do—react. I freed myself and made the distance between us. But I misjudged the force of my kick and he tumbled over and down about a hundred feet onto concrete.”

She paused, thumb rubbing the back of his hand. “When my family and friends saw what I’d done, even if it were an accident, a lot of them decided to keep me at an arm's length. ‘She might kill again’, they said, ‘If she’s killed once, she’ll do it again...there’s no way we can trust her anymore.’ Eventually, I stopped patrolling with the Titans and Teen Titans. Hell, I even stopped helping the Justice League. I did my own thing by myself because no one trusted me anymore. ‘Til this day, there are some people within the superhero community who shun me and don’t trust me. And at every meeting, somehow, someway, it's always brought up.”

(Y/N) looked over at him, squeezing his hand again. “Wherever I go, whatever I do, that follows me. It’s never going to be let go, and it’s certainly never going to be forgotten. However, despite those problems and feelings, and what occurred in the past, that accident doesn't define meor my actions. Yes, I unintentionally took someone’s life, but I’m not a murderer. I carry that burden with me, and I always will and while I can't change what happened, it drives me to make sure that I don't make the same mistake again.”

She let go of his hand, slipping her legs on either side of his body, her hands coming up to cup his cheeks; she caressed his cheekbones with her thumbs, staring into his eyes, and mustered the sincerest voice she could. “Kyle, what you’ve gone through, the people you’ve lost, the people you’ve saved, and the friends you’ve gathered along the way? That’s not who you are...it’s what you do with it that defines who you are.” His eyes widened slightly, and his lips parted to speak, but no words fell from them.

(Y/N) gave him a warm smile and leaned forward, pressing her lips against his forehead; she pulled back and murmured, “It may not mean much, but I'm proud of you, Kyle. You make me proud every single day.” She watched him exhale shakily, and she swore she could see the damn inside him breaking as he lowered his head, his arms reaching to pull her against him.

She shifted, perching in his lap, and let him bury his face in her neck. Kyle let out a breath, but it felt more like a soft sob, and heat blossomed against her skin where his lips touched.

He let out a sound, crossing between a groan and grunt as he told her, “I love you, (Y/N).”

She hummed, wrapping her arms around his neck, her lips brushing his temple. “I love you too, Kyle.”

They stayed that way for a few minutes, simply holding the other. Providing the anchors needed to keep their spirits alive. Eventually, (Y/N) pulled back and dragged his face away from her neck, huffing a laugh when he whined lowly from the loss of contact.

She reached up and wiped his face. “You look like a kid who was told no to ice-cream before dinner.”

Kyle let out a chuckle, moving her hands away and rubbing at his face vigorously. She climbed out of his lap and sat beside him once more, and he looked over at her wondering, “How do you manage to stay so positive outside the mask? To be the same person in costume and out?”

(Y/N) went silent, thinking for a moment, then she said, “A few years ago, I asked my dad the same thing, and he told me, ‘It doesn't matter who we are underneath the costume or out in the real world...it’s what we do in or out that defines us. If the person you claim to be isn’t the same person inside and outside of uniform, you don’t need to be wearing it.’” She glanced back over at him, nudging him in the ribs. “Don't worry about it though, you’re still a dork inside and out of G.L.”

Kyle let out an amused scoff, placing a hand against his chest. “I can't believe you would insult your boyfriend like that. A dork? I’m hurt.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, looking back at the city. “Kyle, you doodle in the middle of J.L. meetings, and it’s usually caricatures of my dad strangling Hal, the Joker, Jason, or Dick…typically it depends on what’s going on during the meetings and who’s been a pain in his ass for it.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but shut it, then raised a pointer finger at her. “Alright, you have me there.”

(Y/N) looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Of course I have you there, Dork Lantern...” She gave him a grin, wiggling her eyebrows and quipped, “I sit and doodle with you.” The two of them laughed, and she rested her head on his shoulder, letting out a sigh. “I could stay with you here forever.”

Kyle nodded, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Me too.”

A moment of silence passed them, and as they were enjoying it, a voice called out, “Oi! Kyle! Queenie! Are you guys up there!”

She let out a groan, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “So help me God, I can’t enjoy anything without dumb and dumber sticking their noses into it.”

Kyle looked over at her, his eyebrows furrowing as he pointed out, “But there’s only one?”

(Y/N) raised a hand in a ‘wait’ motion, then she waved it and, “Of course they’re up there Little-wing. The roof is where all the teens go to make out.”

Her eye twitched, and she leaned over the ledge, shouting, “The only person who’s made out on the roof is you, Dick. And it was with Kori after you guys broke up...AGAIN.”

A scoff sounded below followed by, “Hit me where it hurts why don't you!” She rolled her eyes, huffing, then he asked, “Is Kyle up there with you?”

“And what’s it to you?”

“Just wanted to make sure you guys are acting appropriate.”

“Dick...I am older than you. Kyle and I are both older than you.”

“So?”

(Y/N) turned to Kyle and mouthed, ‘Wanna get out of here?’ He flashed her a grin, then a strike of green blinded her, and he stood before her in his Green Lantern suit. He held out his hand. A beam of green light surrounded them, and a moment later, (Y/N) felt herself drop into a seat. She looked around, a grin appearing on her lips as she ran her hand along the dash of the constructed car.

“Kyle, are you trying to woo me with my love of nice cars?”

He matched her grin, laying his unoccupied arm across the seats. “I don't know...is it working?”

She nodded, sliding over into his side. “Yes. It is.” He chuckled, and they started moving, leaving her two brothers yelling for them.

“Kyle! Are you letting (Y/N) ride in the Green Machine?! You never let me do that!”

“(Y/N)’s my girlfriend, Jason!”

“I’M YOUR FUCKING BEST FRIEND! WHAT EVEN!”

She leaned across Kyle, glaring at Dick and Jason. “Go do something productive with your time, losers.”

“I am hurt, Jellybean! I thought you loved me!”

“Only when I can get something out of it!” (Y/N) glanced at Kyle and grinned. “Hit the gas G.L. Don't let ‘em catch the taillights.” He smirked, and they waved as they left Wayne Manor behind them.

[ahtsumu]

Hm. Take your favorite boys, what do you think they're insecure about?

i wrote for oikawa, atsumu, ushijima, kuroo, and tendou! sorry for the length i just love them so much lol

OIKAWA TOORU: 

not being good enough. this one’s clear as day and everyone knows it but i think there’s another layer to this. i think it’s two-fold. so first of all, he’s insecure about the limits to his skill compared to the monster generation, which is his own problem. but then he’s also insecure about people surpassing him in skill. so not only is the insecurity about something internal, but it’s also affected by external factors. and then you see how his self-hatred (self-hatred may be strong but that’s what the essence of insecurity is, right?) spills over to the way he treats/views others, turning him into this bitter, calculating guy who would work himself dead just prove that he is good enough.

his volatility. listen, for someone as smart as oikawa, he definitely knows it’s not normal to be utterly consumed by the need to even be just a sliver of a bit better than his opponents. and it makes him act in questionable, erratic ways. underneath that calm, put-together facade is a tsunami of ugly emotions that oikawa is highly aware of. i think he’s afraid this side to him will hurt others and makes him a burden, hence his overdone, saccharine, charmer persona. it keeps people at a distance–– emotionally. i think he’s definitely a sweet guy on the inside and genuinely kind to people he doesn’t view as competition (and he actually really appreciates his fans), but because of how he’s scared of exposing his scary side, he overdoes the flamboyant airheadedness. by doing so, he weeds out the people he doesn’t think would stay with him through thick-and-thin anyway.

i like to think that post-timeskip oikawa has dealt with these demons and found a way to just be satisfied. maybe he just needed to expand his horizons. maybe he found a team that was already really good and he, with his setting style, made them great–– better than seijoh could ever have been. olympic gold-medal worthy. he deserves it.

MIYA ATSUMU: 

firstly, i don’t think atsumu’s insecurities are as crippling as oikawa’s. if we factor in his personality based on his volleyball playing style, he’s not the type to overthink or scheme or calculate like oikawa, so i also headcanon him to be less “in his head” and more “in the moment”. this means his insecurities play a smaller role in shaping his personality and are less visible in the manga/anime.

he’s rough around the edges. his speech is coarse (the accent, the slang, the insults) and he fights with osamu in public and he definitely doesn’t shy away from provoking people he barely knows. i bet atsumu sometimes wonders if other people look down upon him because of that. like they might feel like he’s too wild. but i don’t think he dwells on this because he’s also a very confident guy and proud of where he comes from. it’s just a passing thought that sometimes puts a damper on his mood for a bit, and then he’s back to normal.

he’s unlikeable. atsumu has a strong personality–– goofball, airhead, loud, brutally honest, cocky... and he was abandoned by his middle school teammates and classmates for being “an arrogant jerk”. and judging by his behaviour in high school, his middle school years shaped him into a “so what if they hate me?” kinda guy–– meaning, he doesn’t care what random people think of him. what he does care about, though, is if these traits of his impact the way his friends view him or feel because of him. he didn’t grow up with many friends and he probably knows what loneliness feels like. i think he’d hate to feel it again, so he’s a lot more careful about his negative traits around friends. the people who matter.

vulnerability. atsumu’s been shown denying the fact that he was crying even though he was touched by kita’s kindness. that, and how he’s got this huge (and i think purposely overdone) overconfident/brash persona kind of builds a wall of strength around him. in reality, he’s a softie. atsumu’s definitely afraid of people coming into his life and then just leaving because, again, his personality’s an acquired taste and he’s been abandoned before. in his eyes, his softer side is his weaker side because he’s more susceptible to getting hurt.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI:

letting people down. ushijima lives to be reliable. he wants to be, like his dad described, the ace that makes everyone think “if i toss to him, he’ll definitely score”. he shoulders on so much responsibility and it’s because he needs prove that he is the guy people can depend on. and a lot of it has to do with making his dad–– whom he rarely ever sees–– proud, but a lot of it also has to do with the genuine desire to be strong for others. so to be the exact opposite, to show or maybe even suggest that he isn’t as sturdy as he is (which he definitely has done before, probably with all the team’s losses), i think that’s the one thing that gets him most insecure. or i guess you could say this is his greatest fear: to no longer be reliable.

honestly, i think ushijima is one of the least bothered people in haikyuu, which is why i can only confidently headcanon one insecurity. he’s got amazing tunnel vision and he doesn’t let himself get carried away by emotion. that being said, he has emotions. he’s just able to compartmentalise and focus on what’s important: getting better. if he loses, he doesn’t wallow in self-pity–– he does 100 serves. ushijima turns his insecurities/flaws into strength.

i’d suggest maybe his family situation as a possible soft spot, but by the way he openly answered tendou’s questions it’s clear that he’s not exactly torn up over his parents’ divorce. i think he’d be insecure about getting into a relationship, though. it involves a lot of vulnerability and dedication/time, the latter of which he’s not sure he can take from volleyball. i genuinely believe he never dated in high school because he was way too focused on going to nationals for that. so that lack of experience would also make him just a little uncomfortable about dating as an adult, i think. but he’s also not the type to dwell on these things. he’d probably just go for it. he’s a straight-forward, logical, clear-minded guy.

KUROO TETSUROU: 

his baggage. based on the canon information about his parents being divorced and him not seeing his sister, and then the fanon stuff about him growing up listening to them fight endlessly… there’s a lot of trauma that comes with a dysfunctional family that undoubtedly made him into the self-preserving and cunning captain he is today. he has to be able to figure people out and protect himself in order to survive, but that also means he’s a lot more guarded than most. he’s that guy who gets along with everyone but he wouldn’t call most of them his friends. kuroo likes to keep people at arm’s length to protect them and himself from getting hurt. there’s just too much trauma for another person to deal with, unless they really show him that they won’t just leave him high and dry. even after he’s let them in, i don’t think kuroo would talk much about it.

not knowing what romantic love is supposed to be like. and by love, i mean the act of loving–– not the emotion. i find that with kids who’ve grown up in dysfunctional families or are children of divorce, they’re either extremely hesitant to enter relationships or they impulsively dive into them. i think kuroo’s the former. he’s very intelligent and patient, so i can definitely see him being scared to get involved with other people for their sake. after all, he knows that what he’s experienced in reality about love is not correct–– but at the same time, that’s all he knows. he just doesn’t know what a relationship is supposed to look like. is it a lot of independence? or are you supposed to be attached at the hip? how do you get that comfortable around someone? i think this lack of knowledge makes him insecure about getting into relationships.

TENDOU SATORI:

his appearance. we also all know tendou has had the most trauma being bullied and “overcame” the bullying by embracing the demon persona (just on the court!!), but i highly doubt he’d want to be loved for that off the court. the way he treats his friends shows that he’s a very loving, soft, and playful guy. and he’s more resignedly accepted the fact that everyone’s first impression of him will always be the sadistic, scary-looking demon, but i’m sure it affects the way he interacts with people he believes to be conventionally attractive. like maybe he feels just a little undeserving/unsuitable to be around them.

going over the line. tendou is a really sensitive guy with high emotional intelligence–– partially because of how he’s been forced to learn to read people to figure out their intentions, and partially because he never wants to hurt the people he loves. for example, tendou apologised when he kept badgering ushijima about his father and realised it could be a sensitive subject. but i also feel like because he’s such a rowdy, high-energy guy, sometimes his teasing and mischief can go a little far. maybe it’s a text that reads too rudely, followed by a lag on the receiver’s side. and maybe that’s when the overthinking kicks in. like, “that was really mean, satori. that was too far. you should apologise. what if they were really hurt by that? what if they don’t like you anymore?”

being overlooked. tendou pretty much only exists in relation to ushijima and even though he loves ushijima to death i’m sure sometimes he just feels a little down about the fact that he lives in his shadow. he’s always “ushijima’s friend” or “the middle blocker on ushijima’s team” and he’s rarely recognised for his own existence. i think he’s also accepted this, as shown by when he told ushijima to tell all the future reporters that they were friends. tendou had already accepted how ushijima was destined for attention, no matter how in-your-face he himself was. what i love is how furudate kinda inverts this trope by making tendou the famous guest of a show and talking about ushijima instead. it doesn’t change how much he loves ushijima or how much he’ll continue singing his best friend’s praises, but i think some part of him will always wonder if a new person is only taking interest in him because of his connection to ushijima.

[no-pucks-given]

FREDERIK ANDERSEN | TIMES LIKE THESE

AN: At the end of January my lovely friends convinced me to start writing. I did, and it turned out to be something I really enjoy and love. I haven’t posted anything on Tumblr before, it’s always been to intimidating for me. I talked to a few writers on here, and decided to just do it. So thank you to everyone who supported me in this (scary!!) decision, hahaha. I hope you enjoy this one, it’s one of the last ones I wrote. (: 

Warnings: Thighs, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, some more thighs.

Word Count: 3.5K

Requested: @freddieflower3129​

​

Watching your boyfriend play the sport he loves so much is one of your favourite things to do, but watching your boyfriend lose, and eventually even lose his cool, is definitely one of the things you hate. You can almost feel Freddie’s frustration through the screen after yet another goal, another shot he should’ve stopped. You blame it on the defence, on luck, but you know that Freddie blames this on himself.

Another loss, you see the look of pure defeat on his face when he leaves the ice. A look that tells you he’ll be wrecked by the time he gets home. Every win, every loss is spent together, you celebrate the wins, and you support him through the losses. Tonight, maybe more than ever before, he needs your support, and you’ll make sure he gets that in the best way possible.

Freddie will never ask you for this, afraid that he would bother you, but you know he loves it when you do this for him. His muscles are sore after a game, in desperate need for some release, a way to lose the tension in his body, tonight you’ll make sure he gets the massage, and love he deserves. And boy, does he deserve a lot of love.

You put your plan into motion, making sure everything is ready when Freddie gets home. You light up a few candles, the small flames giving the room a cosy, peaceful look. Rummaging through the drawers you find his favourite oil, putting it on the bedside table. You find the softest towel you own, and finally you’re all set to give your man the peaceful night he deserves.

You’re comfortable on the couch when Freddie walks in, a sombre look on his face. “Come here, baby,” you say softly, opening your arms for him. Without a second thought he drops his bags, and makes his way over to you, his large frame engulfing your smaller one. His head buried in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped around your waist, hugging you close to him. You brush your fingers through his hair, a soft sigh leaving Freddie’s mouth. “How are you feeling, baby?” you ask, even though you already know his answer. 

Freddie chuckles low. “Like shit, like a loser, a failure, does that answer your question?” he counters back, annoyance, hurt lacing his voice. 

“I’m sorry. I know you’re feeling like that, but it isn’t true, you know that,” you say, tugging softly on his hair. Freddie lifts his head, eyebrow raised in question. “I’ve planned a small thing for you upstairs, if you’re up for it,” you say, a small smile playing on your lips. 

“You did?” he asks, your words triggering his curiosity. You nod your head, smiling at him. He helps you off the couch, and follows you upstairs.

You look at him when he crosses the threshold, his bottom lip slightly pouting. Freddie finds your eyes again, cocking his head to the side. “You don’t have to do that, y/n,” he softly says, worried he’s making you do things you don’t want to do. 

You shake your head at him, fingers loosening his tie. “I know, but I want to, and you deserve this,” you say, pulling his tie off completely. “You deserve to know how much I love every single part of you, Freddie.”

Together you undress him, until he’s left in nothing but black boxers. You guide him towards the bed, where Freddie lays down on his stomach, arms above his head. For just a few seconds you simply watch him, his broad shoulders, his thick thighs, his perfect bottom. You chuckle quietly at yourself, you’re such a fangirl for your own man. You slip out of your sweats, leaving you in just your underwear and t-shirt.

You crawl on top of Freddie, your legs on either side of his waist. You lean over him to grab the oil, squeezing some on your hands. “Is that my favourite?” Freddie mumbles from below you. 

You smile, pressing your oily hands onto his back. “Of course it is, love. Only the best for you,” you say, gently massaging the tight muscles on his back. Your fingers work the tight knots in his shoulders, a deep sigh leaving Freddie’s mouth every now and then. “You feel like a burden to your teammates, like you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, but little do you know you actually carry their pride, their joy, their love instead,” you tell him softly, your hands moving down his back.

Freddie listens intently to everything you have to say, his brows furrowed in confusion, in realisation at times. He knows he can be too susceptible to negativity at times, taking and hearing only the negative sides of things or events, while there are enough positive sides as well. He tries so hard to change that, but it’s a lot harder than it looks. At times like these he couldn’t be happier to have you. You always know what to say, whether it’s to calm him down or to see the positive side to certain events.

You slide further down his body, settling between his legs. You smirk to yourself as you rake your nails over his sculpted ass, a low groan leaving Freddie’s mouth. “y/n...” he warns, but you just press your hands on his backside. 

“You know I love your ass, I only got praise. Do you need to hear them?” you say cheekily, a blush spreading over his face. 

“No, you can skip it,” Freddie mumbles, a smile on his lips.

Your oily hands slide over his thighs, his muscles flexing underneath your touch. “I could write a book about your thighs, Freddie,” you tell him, massaging his sore muscles. 

Freddie chuckles, lifting his head a bit to look at you. “I swear to God, if I ever catch you writing a damn book about my thighs you’ll be in so much trouble, baby,”

You laugh at him, grabbing one of his feet. You gently massage his footbed, making sure not to tickle him. You do not want to get kicked in your face tonight, or any night for that matter. “Oh, that’s so good,” Freddie moans out, completely relaxed. You smile at him, moving on to his other foot.

After a while you crawl back towards his head, whispering in his ear that he can turn over now. Freddie rolls over, scooting back to sit against the headboard. He pats his thigh, urging you to sit down, a small smirk playing on his lips. You sit back down on top of him, knowing damn well this is going to lead to something completely else.

You softly press your lips on his, revelling in the feeling of his lips, his tongue, his taste. The kiss stays light, sweet, his eyes promising you this isn’t over yet. You squirt some more oil on your hands, while Freddie holds out his arm for you. You slide your warm hands over his skin, loving the feeling of his strong arms underneath your fingers. “Your arms,” you start, Freddie’s eyes shooting to yours, “they make me feel the safest I’ve ever felt. Wrapped around me I feel like I can conquer the whole world,” you tell him, smiling softly at the man before you.

Freddie’s free hand lands on your hip, his thumb brushing soft circles over your exposed skin. You move on to his hands, your thumbs pressing down soft circles on his palm. “Your hands, they provide me security, and trust. Whether it’s wrapped around mine when we’re out for a walk, or..” you say, looking innocently at a smirking Freddie, who already knows where you’re going with this. “wrapped around my throat while you fuck me, tangled in my hair when I take you down my throat,” you finish, feeling Freddie’s erection against your stomach.

Freddie takes you by surprise when his fingers wrap around your throat, bringing your face closer to his. His mouth claiming yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You moan into the kiss, completely forgetting about the massage for a moment. You rock your hips against his erection, earning yourself a low groan from Freddie.

Freddie breaks the kiss, looking pretty content with himself at the moment. “Now you can continue,” he says, sliding his hand from your throat, between your breasts, and back to your hip. 

You shake your head at him, he’ll never stop surprising you. Your hands slide over his chest, rubbing the oil into his skin. “Your chest keeps your most precious possession; your heart. Your pure heart, full of love, happiness, and kindness. It’s the most beautiful part of you, love,” you tell him, pressing your palm onto his chest. 

His hand lands on top of yours, pressing down harder. “It’s no longer in my possession, y/n. I put my heart in your hands a long time ago,” he says, slightly squeezing your hip.

Your hands cup his face, making sure he looks at you. “I know you can get in your own head too much, but I’ll always be here to help you, to support you through everything. Don’t be afraid to ask, love. I need you to understand that you don’t bother me when you ask for anything, just ask and I’ll give it to you,” you say, hoping he believes your words.

“Thank you, baby. I promise I’ll ask if I need something,” Freddie says, smiling back at you. You see the small change in his features, it almost has something.. naughty? “I do need help with something actually,” he says, giving you his most innocent look. 

You raise your eyebrow at him, trying to keep the smile off your face. “And what would that be?” you say, sliding your hands down his chest.

 Freddie lifts his hips, rocking his erection against your core. “That.”

You shake your head at him, of course that’s what he wants. You try to reach for the towel to clean your hands, but Freddie grabs your wrist, stopping your movements. “Don’t bother, I want to feel those hands all over my cock,” he says, smirking at your shocked expression. “It is edible, right?” 

You playfully roll your eyes at him, your head inching closer to his. Your lips brush over his ear, tongue darting out to trace the shell. “Why don’t we find out, huh?” you whisper, your hand cupping him through his underwear. The sharp intake of breath only spurs you on to continue your slow, torturous ways. It isn’t often that Freddie lets you take the lead like this, but when he does you make sure to enjoy it as much as you can.

Your lips kiss his skin, softly sucking and nipping every now and then, slowly making your way down. Your hand strokes his erection through his underwear, your lips close around one of his nipples, sucking the bud into your mouth. Freddie groans, you love how sensitive he is there. You bite down on his nipple, before soothing the burn with your tongue. Freddie curses below his breath, his hand wrapping around your hair.

You lick and nip your way down over his stomach, his muscles tightening underneath your touch. When you finally reach your destination you smirk to yourself, determine to drive Freddie absolutely crazy with need. You lick the skin just above the waistband of his underwear, chills running through his body. His grip on your hair tightens, your eyes finding Freddie’s. “Stop teasing, y/n,” he says, tugging on your hair, letting you know playtime is over. You mumble your agreement against his skin, while slowly tugging down his underwear.

Freddie lifts his hips, allowing you to slide down his underwear completely, freeing his throbbing erection. You lick your lips at the sight before you, his erection standing proud against his stomach, precum leaking from the tip. Your head dips down, but Freddie yanks you back up, your eyes shooting to his again. “Hands, y/n. Remember?” he says, referring back to your earlier conversation. You nod your head, one of your hands closing around his cock, squeezing his base tightly.

Freddie relaxes his hold on your hair, allowing you to lower your head towards his cock once more. Your tongue swirls around his tip, relishing the familiar taste of his precum. Your lips close around him, softly sucking on the head of his cock.

Your mouth follows the same rhythm as your hand, your other hand braced on his muscular thigh. You lose yourself completely in him, his low moans and grunts when he pushes further into your mouth, they way the muscles on his thigh flex underneath your hand. You can feel his eyes on you, even though you can’t maintain eye contact with him, too far gone in giving him pleasure.

His words bring you out of your trance, your eyes shooting back to his. Freddie chuckles at your confused expression, clearly you haven’t heard a word he said. “Play with yourself, baby,” he repeats, smirking at the hungry look in your eyes. It’s one thing to have you in front of him, his cock down your throat, but knowing you’re playing with yourself just turns him on even more. He groans at the thought, cock twitching in your mouth as your hand actually disappears underneath your t-shirt, and into your panties. 

You moan around his cock, your fingers softly circling your clit. Freddie lifts his hips, pushing further into your mouth. His lazy rhythm tells you he isn’t planning on coming, the look in his eyes tells you he does have other plans. “I want you to come, y/n. Come with my cock down your throat,” Freddie rasps out, his voice laced with desire, a need to watch you come undone.

Swift circles, slow circles, at this point you don’t even know what to do anymore, all you know is you need to come, want to come. It’s Freddie’s low praises, soft groans that push you over the edge, almost choking on his cock, nails digging into his thigh. Freddie doesn’t give you any time to recover, any time to catch your breath. He pulls your hair, releasing himself from your mouth with a pop. “Come here,” he softly says, helping you straddle his hips.

Before you can even tell him you’re still wearing your panties they’re ripped off your body. His strong hand snapping them in half, the piece of fabric landing somewhere on the floor. You look up at the large Dane before you, who wears an even larger grin on his face. “Always so impatient, huh?” you mumble, his hands reaching out to pull off your t-shirt. 

“I am, I’ve waited long enough,” Freddie whispers against your neck, softly sucking on your skin, surely leaving marks behind.

You lift your hips, your hand guiding his erection towards your entrance. You slowly sink down on him, his cock deliciously stretching you to the absolute max. The moment he’s fully inside of you, you both let out the breath you’ve been holding. “Fuck, y/n,” Freddie groans, hands tightening on your hips. It’s a perfect fit, like you’re made for each other.

One of Freddie’s hands finds its way to the back of your head, pushing you closer to his face. Your lips find his in a scorching kiss, tongues twisting and twirling around each other, fighting for dominance. A battle you quickly lose to Freddie, a win you’ll happily give to him anytime. He smirks into the kiss knowing damn well that he would win. You can be on top of him, feeling like you’re the boss, but deep down? He’s still in charge here, and he’ll have you pinned underneath him in a second if he wanted to.

You rock your hips on top of him in soft, slow motions, loving the feeling of him deep inside of you. The way Freddie sits against the headboard, heels digging into the mattress, it gives this experience a whole new dimension. It’s so close, so intimate like this, chests pushed together, lips barely leaving the other’s for more than a few seconds. Your nails dig into his shoulders with every rock of your hips, every thrust Freddie gives to meet your rhythm.

You’ve never been closer, felt closer to Freddie than right now, right this moment. You can’t even begin to describe the things that this man makes you feel, every single day, every single minute. Especially when you’re like this, intertwined with each other, completely at peace.

You feel like you could burst at any moment, the euphoria creeping through your veins, inching closer, and closer to your release. Freddie, knowing your body like the back of his hand, feels you pulsing around him, your breathing turning more erethic by the second, indicating you’re close to reaching your high. “Eyes on me, beautiful,” he breathes out, fingers gripping the back of your neck tightly. Your eyes shoot to his, while you bite down on your bottom lip, unable to fight back your approaching orgasm any longer.

“Come for me. I got you, baby,” he encourages you, his thrusts hitting you in just the right spot. Trying your hardest to keep your eyes on him you let go, your orgasm crashing through your body. Your back arches, pushing your sensitive breasts even further into Freddie’s solid chest, your hips stilling on top of him, while you cry out his name. You rest your head against his shoulder, riding out your high in peace, your breathing still erethic, heart beating loud in your ears.

A few thrusts of his hips, a few groans and moans, before his orgasm hits Freddie full force. He pushes you down onto his cock hard, burying himself deep inside of you. “Oh fuck, y/n!” he groans, shooting his load deep inside of you, coating your inner walls with his release. You smile against his neck, completely exhausted. “Christ, y/n. That was...,” he trails off, completely lost for words. 

“Fantastic, mind-blowing, brilliant, phenomenal, or something else in that category?” you ask, kissing his shoulder. 

A breathy laugh leaves his mouth, his strong arms closing around your body, hugging you closer to him. “All of the above, definitely all of the above,”

The two of you just lay there for a few minutes, enjoying the comfortable silence, the closeness of each other. You softly kiss along his jaw, his beard tickling your nose. “Come on, love. Let’s get cleaned up,” you whisper against his skin. Freddie tightens his arms around you, swinging his legs off the bed. In one swift move he’s upright, with you still secure in his arms.

His movements cause him to slip out of you, his release mixed with yours dripping down your legs. “Gross,” you say at the same time Freddie groans, fingers tightening around your thighs. 

“It’s not, baby, it’s hot,” he says, smiling down at you. 

You shake your head at him, a smile on your lips. “You’re such a caveman, Freddie,” you chuckle, while Freddie just shrugs his shoulders.

He sets you down on the bathroom counter, walking towards the shower to turn on the water. You watch him intently, a grin on your face when he catches you staring at him. Freddie chuckles low, before walking back over to you, stepping between your legs. His large hands slide over your thighs, your waist, all over your body until he cups your face with both hands. “You,” he starts, his eyes locking on yours, “are my light, y/n. In dark times, in times I’m lost and in times I doubt myself, you’re the one who guides me back onto the right path, who helps me get out of my own head, who has my back without ever expecting anything in return.”

You open your mouth to say something, but Freddie simply shakes his head at you, indicating he isn’t finished yet. “I love you with everything I have, y/n. Everything. I’m sure you’re my soulmate, and the one I’ll spend the rest of my life with. I’m absolutely sure of it,” he finishes, softly pressing his lips on yours.

Sometimes you think you can’t love him more than you already do, but times like these prove you can love him more. He looks down at you, a blush on his cheeks, an uncertain smile on his face. “I love you so much, so damn much it almost hurts. I’ll always protect you, help you, guide you, and support you, as best as I possibly can, Freddie. Even though I’m sure you can do anything you want on your own, and you know why I think that?” you ask him, knowing he needs to hear this, he needs to understand this. He shakes his head at you, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “Because you’re amazing, Freddie. And I’ll prove to you every single day that you’re exactly that; Amazing.” 

He grins at you, his eyes reflecting his love for you. You kiss him once more, pouring all your love and adoration into that one kiss, before the two of you finally take that long deserved shower.

[alicemitch09writes]

skinny love

pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

summary: 6 months later. Was he too late?

author’s notes: This is a direct sequel to first love and part of a trilogy also aptly named ‘first love’ ugh, i am so unoriginal. Please go read that first before this, otherwise you’ll be confused.

also available on ao3.

disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.

His feet feel like lead as he trudged to the vending machine, adamant on getting coffee. It was only Monday. The smallest sounds of coin drops and beeps were making his head hurt.

Taking his first sip of his coffee, he walked around the quiet halls.

He hated hospitals.

Actually, they weren't that bad, having everything it needed to cater to the patient's needs. But it was a façade to their impending doom. And he hated it. Hated the way doctors and nurses would say with practiced ease that everything will be alright – when it won't.

They mean well, they really do, but they were a painful reminder of how fragile life was – how easy it can be taken away.

Reaching Room #423, he turned the knob, finding (Name) in the same state she's been the past six months. The door shuts quietly behind him, back resting against it.

"Tetsu, have you been eating?"

He could almost hear her voice, filled with worry of how thin he is. She always did that, nagging him like a mom to eat if he wanted to win. Funny she thought that, thinking more of his (and the team's) welfare's than her own. (Name) was always that kind.

Instead, the image of that beautiful girl was replaced with one lying on the hospital bed – limp and lifeless.

(Name) didn't belong here, not in this hospital nor in that bed she was lying in. No.

She deserved to be home, in her room surrounded by her instruments, fussing herself with her studies, that new song she wanted to learn, or managing a pack of rowdy boys.

He didn’t know how long he just stood there before he heard a knock at the door. Lazily turning his body, he opened the door; his actions seemed robotic, staring at two familiar faces.

"Hey man," Bokuto greeted, balloons in different colors and shapes (there was one in the shape of an owl) in hand, worry in his eyes. "Wow, you look like shit."

"Thanks." He said, taking a sip of his coffee.

"That wasn't very nice, Bokuto-san." Akaashi scolded, appearing behind the salt-and-pepper-haired teen with flowers in his hands.

Too tired to argue, he stepped aside, letting them in. Closing the door behind him, he watched the two eyeing the unconscious girl, hearing Bokuto sighing while Akaashi dutifully went straight for the vase, intending to replace the flowers.

He plopped down on his seat, canned coffee still in hand.

"But seriously man," Bokuto called, tying the balloons next to the side table. "you look terrible."

Kuroo closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose.

"When was the last time you went out?"

"Bokuto-san." Akaashi called in warning, appearing from the toilet with a vase filled with clean water.

"I'm serious!" Kuroo draped an arm over his eyes as if to hide the bags underneath. "Dude, you barely left since. Day in, day out, you're here but never at home. Nowhere else but here. You even ditched your first year of college!"

"I won't want to leave her," Kuroo said, still not moving from his spot.

Bokuto frowned at his friend, arms crossed. "I'm not saying that you should, I'm saying (Name)-chan wouldn't like to see you this way."

(Name).

Sighing, Kuroo slumped forward, arms propped on his knees, staring at the sterile ground.

"We're just worried about you, Kuroo."

That must be the umpteenth time someone's told him that – his mom, his dad, his older sister, Kenma, Coach Nekomata, the team. But still, his resolve won't change.

Taking a long sip, he met both stares from Bokuto and Akaashi, who had just finished with the flowers.

"I'm not leaving her." he said in finality, turning to the sleeping girl. There were a lot of things he wanted to tell her, a lot. And he wanted to be the first person she sees when she wakes up, the first person to see her wake.

Sighing exasperatedly, hands on his hips, Bokuto resigned. His friend was stubborn, but he had an iron resolve. "I know you won't. Figured as much."

"Then why do you still bother?"

Smirking at the raven-haired teen, he says with a shrug. "Because bro, you matter to me."

Kuroo put a hand to his heart, touched. "Bro."

"Bokuto-san just wanted to act cool every once in a while," Akaashi coolly said, opening the drapes. That earned a loud, familiar call from his former captain. Kuroo smiled, some things never change.

"But seriously dude, you could use a bath because you smell like shit."

Akaashi didn't need to scold him then as Bokuto received a (friendly) punch to the gut from Kuroo.

Six months.

That's how long he was suffering, how long he had been tortured by the mere thought of never seeing her smile again, of never hearing her laugh again, of never having her around again – of never seeing her again.

The word cancer stuck to his head was like a punch to the gut, pummeling him inside out with every step he took. Never mind the burning pain of his muscles from a day's worth of match, never mind finally giving their coach the chance to witness the 'Battle at the Dumps' match even though they lost, never mind that his high school life had officially come to an end – they didn't matter at this point. He just wanted to see her.

And the first time he saw her – dressed in a hospital gown, with tubes sticking to her body connected to machines that kept her alive, he was crushed. As if he were a porcelain doll smashed into a million pieces, each fragment breaking into smaller pieces.

He nearly broke down at the sight of her. She was beautiful as ever, yet to see her in that situation broke his heart.

(Name) had been operated; the chances of her survival were slim. But the only thing Kuroo could think was how small (Name) looked in that big, white bed.

Picking her hands, he noted how small they were – how he could practically see and feel her bones. Threading his finger through hers, he brought them to his cheek, relishing in her warmth. These were the same fingers that cared for him each time he'd earn a bruise or a scratch, the same hands that brushed his hair when he was sleepy – gentle touches that made him think that she was an angel. Slim fingers that did magic with every instrument she held.

He always knew she was small – fragile, even – but it only clicked to him now as to why that was the case. Ironic that he was the perceptive guy, inside and outside the court, yet he failed to notice his best friend's wellbeing. How did he miss to notice how little she would eat, how easily tired she was, or how low her stamina was? He was supposed to be the smart guy, for crying out loud!

He wanted to hit himself, to numb himself of the pain.

The moment he found out, he wouldn't stop crying, hating himself every minute of every day.

(Name) wouldn't wake up.

(Name) wouldn't wake up.

(Name). Wouldn't. Wake. Up.

"Kuroo," a voice called, quiet and low, one he knew all too well. Weakly raising his head, he looked over his shoulder, meeting a familiar blonde teen.

Kenma looked at his best friend worriedly, a frown in his face. "You should go home." The raven-haired lad shook his head, Kenma sighed. "(Name) wouldn't like that."

"I'm not leaving her." he says, voice raspy.

Kenma stared, eyes narrowing. "Have you been eating at least?"

"I've been snacking on what Auntie gives me," he rubs his eyes tiredly, stretching his arms over his head. "I'll be fine."

His dark hair was greasy, sticking out to different directions – messier than usual; there were bags under his eyes. The clothes he's been wearing were days old now, but it's not like he leaves the hospital. How long has he had proper sleep or shower?

"You're not." Kenma pointed out, walking towards the bed, opposite to where his friend was. He arranges the plushies from various game characters beside her bed, dusting a few. When he was done, he stood next to the unconscious girl, eyes dancing with sorrow.

Kuroo watched his friend carefully, a question burning his head. "How long have you known?"

Kenma blinked. Deciding to sit down, he met Kuroo's gaze. "A while now." He answers as if anticipating the question. "(Name) was the most secretive amongst us three; I thought you'd have known first." Shrugging, he adjusted her blanket. "But you didn't." Kuroo wanted to laugh at that because it was half-true. They both knew he was far more observant than he let on.

Sighing, the blonde props his arm on a nearby desk, resting his head on his palm. "Knowing her secret was like carrying a heavy burden because it's her secret and your knowledge of her sickness."

Frowning, he asked. "She didn't know that you knew?"

The blonde shook his head without looking at him. "Like I said, it was a burden on my part as well. Plus, that'd be disrespecting (Name). And I can't do that to her."

Something likened to rage burned within him, he was standing before his best friend before he knew it. "And you didn't bother to tell me?"

"It's not my secret to tell." Kenma says easily, carefully setting her clamped hand aside.

"But we're best friends!" Kuroo's voice rose, earning a scoff from the blonde as he turned to meet his gaze, eyes almost challenging.

"Don't you think that'd be disrespecting (Name)'s decision?" Kuroo was practically shaking now, hands balled into a fist. "Besides, it's not like you cared to begin with-"

Kuroo had grabbed him by the collar, raising him to his level. "I dare you to say that again." He seethed hotly, eyes burning.

Kenma didn't falter, eyes glowering. "What's the matter, Kuroo? Upset that for once, you failed to gain information before me to break someone, to use it to your advantage? Or are you just mad that (Name) couldn't trust you enough?"

"Shut up!" his voice rose, grip tightening.

Steely gold hues met his, challenging and mocking. "Then are you guilty because it's practically your fault she's in this situation?"

That was the final straw.

Taking his hand back, Kuroo was just about to smack Kenma in the face when blaring sound rang through the room. The two automatically turned to her, panicked, Kuroo dropped Kenma, ran for the intercom while Kenma stared at (Name)'s body, not knowing what to do.

A little while later, a nurse came rushing in.

Kuro and Kenma stepped aside, watching the nurse attend to their best friend each holding their breath. Kuroo was wondering if he should've called for her doctor, but after a while, the nurse sedated her, (Name)'s body relaxed.

The gentle beep of the heart monitor demonstrated her calmness.

"She'll be alright, just a little stressed is all." The nurse says kindly, much to their relief.

They sighed in unison, rooted on the spot even as the nurse left the room.

(Name)'s breathing slowly through the calming silence that came, followed by the purring of the machines and quite chattering outside.

The two best friends stood there, watching the unconscious girl. Kuroo and Kenma slumped against the wall, the raven-haired teen slipping to the ground. The tension between the two was still there, something that was rare even for them. In the many years they knew each other, not once have they got into a fight this extreme. And even if a fight did ensue, there was only one person who could bring it to a stop, one person they'd bow to other than Yaku.

"She'd kill us by now," Kenma sighs, breaking the silence.

Kuroo snorted at that, hiding the smile on his face.

Eventually, he broke into fits of laughter. Kenma joined in.

"She'd give us a litany," Kuroo added, voice thick. "then she'd take us by the ear."

Kenma shuddered, rubbing at his ear. Kuroo did the same.

"You started it though," Kenma told him, bluntly.

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at him. "But you fanned the flames."

They burst into chuckles, tension dying down.

A little while later, the room was filled with members of the Nekoma team – bringing flowers, fruits, and toys. Each member, especially Yamamoto, Inuoka, and Lev, fawned over their unconscious manager while Fukunaga fussed over the snacks. Yaku had to keep everyone in line.

The best friends exchanged a look, knowing that if (Name) were awake, she couldn't be any happier.

Someone was waking him, gently shaking his shoulders. Raising his head from his folded arms, he was met with warm (eye color) eyes. "Tetsuroo-kun." The woman greeted kindly.

"Auntie," He stood up in greeting, pulling his wrinkled clothes down. "Good evening."

Her smile, it reminded him of hers, how he missed her smile. "Good evening." Walking across the room, she dropped her bag and sat on the chair next to her daughter, patting a hand over her cheek. "Any news?" she asked, looking up at him.

He shook his head, hands tightening. "Just the same."

The smile remained, eyes never losing its light. "Then she's still alright."

Just staring at the woman made him wonder how she could still be so optimistic about the situation. It must be hard on her, her only daughter was under coma after her operation, yet she never loses hope. She was just like (Name). And duh, she was her mom!

"Have you eaten?"

He nodded. "Yeah." He lied, tucking his hands on his pockets.

She stared, her smile waning a bit, worry in her eyes, then nods.

"Where is Uncle?" he asked, staring at freshly cut flowers next to her bed – carnations, care of the Fukorodani team.

"Oh, just parking the car. He'll be here in a while."

Kuroo nods, not knowing what else to say. So he sits by the couch, watching Auntie talked to her daughter, telling her how her classmates missed her (evidenced by the balloons and cards surrounding her bed), how their neighbors have as well, how quiet the house has been lately without her playing, the little things. But to her, they were all that mattered.

He hung his head, not wanting to watch any longer. He could hear the sadness in her voice, the longing, and yet, she still hopes. How could she?

"I'll be right back, Auntie." He announces, making his way out before she could reply, missing the worried look on her face.

Six months.

Six excruciating months.

He's endured and suffered that long.

But still, she wouldn't wake up.

Splashing water to his face, he then looked up, finding a miserable guy staring back at him.

Then are you guilty because it's practically your fault she's in this situation?

No matter what they say, it was his fault she was in this situation. It was his fault she's lying in that hospital bed, unconscious. It was his fault.

He wanted to punch his reflection so bad, but he was tired (physically and emotionally).

He didn't like hospitals, hated how clinically clean it was and how dreadful it was. Life came and go here.

Reaching for the door to her room, he paused.

What good would it be for him to be here?

He didn't deserve to be here keeping guard and watching her.

What was he even doing here?

"Aren't you going to go in?" a voice called behind him.

Turning, he was met with a kind gaze from a bespectacled (hair color) man. Their kind disposition ran in the family, he didn't deserve it.

At a loss for words, Kuroo mumbled unintelligent words, the man laughed heartily.

"Looks like you need a bite," although shorter than the teen, he wrapped his arm around his shoulders, steering them away. "come, you need to eat."

Kuroo gulped, staring down at the meal before him, then at the smiling man. There were a few people at the cafeteria – a few nurses and doctors on break, a kid with his mother, some teens, and them.

A comfortable silence forms between them despite having fidgeting in his presence.

The smell of strong spice was making his mouth water, aptly reminding him of the lie he told Auntie. Truth was, he snacked on some fruits given by his family earlier that day, that and coffee. A little while later, his stomach growled. The old man chuckled heartily. "Go on," he encourages.

Timidly, he nodded, saying his grace before digging in.

His eyes widened at the burst of flavors in his mouth, almost forgetting what an amazing cook the man was. He chewed carefully, distracting himself with the texture and taste.

He hadn't noticed the old man leaving until he came back with a can of orange juice for both of them. Kuroo muttered a 'thanks', chugging down the beverage.

"It's so good to see you eat," he tells him, eyes crinkling. "and no, you can't lie to me. I know you, Tetsuroo-kun." He laughed.

It was like he was eight again. It was always like that with this man, this amazing man, who held instruments like magic, the same man who was the father of the girl lying in this very hospital bed, comatose, because of him.

He chewed slowly, eyes dropping. Eventually, he swallowed but didn't reach for more even though the bento box was still full.

"Oh, are you done eating?" asked the confused man.

He almost wanted to laugh.

These past months weren't easy on all of them, especially for them. They could have blamed him for why their daughter was here, but they didn't. Instead, they pulled themselves together for her and for him.

"Thank you, uncle." He says instead, meaning it. Kuroo grinned at the confused man before digging in again.

He shook his head at the teen before him, chuckling heartily. He studies the young boy before him, remembering the look on his face when he saw her comatose state – it was the look of absolute heartbreak.

When he was done eating, they packed slowly, making slow talk (although it was more of him doing the talking). They were standing outside her room, but before they entered, he called him.

"She wouldn't like it you know," he tells him, sincerely. "seeing you like this, filled with guilt and hate. She would've wanted you to be happy, even if she's not the one causing it."

There was a sharp tug in his heart at the last line. "But she makes me happy." It was barely a whisper, tears starting anew. "But I didn't let her know that."

His eyes were stinging with tears, body trembling.

The older man patted his shoulder, squeezing in assurance.

While waiting for her to wake up, he often talked to her about their childhood, some dumb memories, and some good ones. He even told her of the events that transpired during nationals, not knowing that she was watching via live television.

"You should've been there," he said quietly, letting his fingers play with her growing (hair color) hair. "the team wouldn't be anything without our manager."

Some days, he'd read to her, having scavenged through her room from her yet to-read pile. He had to endure going through books that were not of his genre (especially romance), but in the end, found himself enjoying them.

With each passing day, the hope of her waking up was waning. He feared she might never wake up. The waiting was killing him, unnerving and destroying him. But he didn't give up hope, could never. He could wait years if he has to, just to see her (eyes color) eyes again, hear her laugh again, and be with her.

"Oh my, it's that boy again! He's become a familiar face around here."

"How long has he been visiting her?"

"About six months now, since that girl was brought in. He practically lives here."

"Poor thing, looks like he hasn't eaten or slept for days!"

"And he barely leaves her room. And when he does, it's only for a few hours or a day, and then he's back."

"Seriously?"

"The poor boy, the pain he's been through."

"And she might never wake up."

"I don't care what they say," he says against their intertwined fingers. "you are perfect to me. And I'm not leaving you."

It was barely midnight, but he couldn't help it. The conversation he heard earlier was getting to him. They didn't know anything about him or her. It was none of their business.

But to say that she was never going to wake up?

No.

He didn't like to think about it.

She was going to wake up.

He knew it.

But honestly? He wasn't so sure anymore.

Shifting in his seat, he threw his head back, massaging at his throbbing temples. When he opened his eyes, he noted something from the corner of his eye. Her ukulele was lying beside her; he stared at it long and hard before deciding to pick it up. Upon closer inspection, he noticed scratches and a Band-Aid on the crack of the soundboard. Something tugged inside him; he knew exactly where that crack came from.

His grip tightened.

Kenma was right, he was selfish.

He was so selfish.

Absentmindedly, he played with the strings, filling the silence. And then, he began adjusting the chords. It used to drive (Name) nuts, especially when she found how out of tune her ukulele was because of him. He smiled, he always loved seeing her cute face pinched into a frown – she was so cute like that.

Satisfied with the pitch, his calloused fingers began to play a few strings. The song was slow, gentle.

I wanna make you smile, whenever you're sad

Carry you around when your arthritis is bad

All I wanna do, is grow old with you

I'll get your medicine when your tummy aches

Build you a fire if the furnace breaks

Oh it could be so nice, growing old with you

  He loved her.

Cliché as it is, he did.

Truth of the matter is, he's always been in love with her.

From the first moment they met, the first time he saw her smile, the first time she scolded him and Kenma, the first time she fussed over them, the first time he saw her play an instrument, to the first time she made him realize how many years have passed that he was so, so, in love with her.

So hopelessly in love with (Name).

Except, he was scared to risk their friendship – scared that she might not feel the same way he did.

I'll miss you

Kiss you

Give you my coat when you are cold

Need you

Feed you

Even let ya hold the remote control

Six months without her was absolute torture.

She was part of every significant event in his life; he couldn't remember spending a day without her in it

Because life without her? He couldn't even imagine.

It was meaningless.

If he could, he'd turn back time and make it right.

So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink

Put you to bed if you've had too much to drink

I could be the man who grows old with you

I wanna grow old with you

The last lines of the song came out barely a whisper.

Releasing a shaky breath, he hung his head, tears streamed freely. "I've waited so long to play that."

It was the cheesiest song from a lousy movie. But the song, he had to admit, was one of his low-key favorites. The lyrics to the song were so sincere and heartfelt. He finally understood why love songs were made – to say the words everyone failed to say or supplement their feelings.

If only she was awake, then she'd hear his feelings.

Putting her ukulele away, he takes her hand in his, holding it close as he cried. "Please, wake up."

He buried his face into her hand, kissing it as he repeatedly begs for her to wake up, tears still streaming. "There's so much I want to tell you, so much I want you to know."

Taking her hand, he places a quick kiss to her palm, pressing it against his chest. "Feel that? That's my heart and it's beating for you."

His heart was beating fast, as it always did when (Name) was around.

Every single thing she does wonders is magic to him, especially with the way he captivated her the moment their eyes met. He missed it all – her smile, her touch, her eyes, her laugh, in general, he missed her.

So much it hurt.

Because the possibility of her never waking up was a factor that scared him every single day for the past six months. He didn't want their last meeting to be of him being an ass to her.

His heart skipped a beat.

He looked up at her, then at the hand on his chest, he swore he felt her hand twitch.

[ratcandy]

CoGR Abridged/Summarized

Hello hello! My name is Clam, otherwise known as Squeakyclam on Ao3, and this is a heavily summarized/shortened version of my HK fic Camouflage of Great Renown. For anyone somehow finding this that doesn't know what it's about, CoGR focuses on Zote and his story through the game and what preceded it. He recounts his entire life up until the end of what's known in canon, and this includes a whole lot of angst, growth, realizations, and Trauma Revelations.

Oh, and he's a nosk. Zote is a nosk. Yep.

I've had a few requests for a summary, as the work is super long and reading through 130k+ words of Zote dialogue may not be for everyone, hehehe so I've compiled all the important plot points and wrote them out here in order of his story, rather than the plotline CoGR goes through specifically (in which big events in his history are revealed later on).

If I had to recommend reading the fic for anything, it'd be the... impact, I suppose? 'Cause reading the summarized events here will NOT be anything like reading it in CoGR. Seeing as the fic is all in Zote's pov and he actually has to force himself to admit all of this aloud. But I digress!!

Here's a summary of Zote's life according to CoGR.

THIS IS A VERY, VERY LONG POST DESPITE BEING A SUMMARY. I'm sorry, CoGR just has a lot happening! T/W for mentions of death.

A lot more heavy stuff happens in CoGR, but in this summary I do my best to step around those subjects. If you think more T/Ws should be added, let me know, and I'll put them here

Nosks were a species that inhabited Deepnest, specifically living in a den towards the nest's depths. It split off into lots of tunnels and caverns that each nosk lived in. "Society" there was very hostile and unwelcoming, as nosks valued brute strength over just about anything else. Caring for another nosk - be it kin or otherwise - was considered weak. "Burdens" to the den, such as nosks that were badly wounded, would/could not hunt, or were simply getting too old would be killed off. Death in and of itself was very common and hardly anyone would bat an eye at it.

Think the Mantis Tribe but largely feral and without a shred of decency of morals.

Runt donning mask of citizen was born into the nosk den alongside his brother, who would become hunter donning hide of tiktik.

(Before anyone asks, these are just the naming conventions that nosks have. No one but the nosk superiors - the leaders of the den - are granted actual names.)

A third egg was among them, but the brother broke it open and ate the younger sibling not long after hatching.

The two were born under a superior (their mother) and her chosen mate (their father). They were expected to grow up strong and eventually overtake their mother and become superiors. Or, one of them would, maybe.

The runt (Zote) was immediately scorned by the mother, as he was extremely frail and useless, and she just about killed him off right after he hatched - but his father stepped in, and the runt was left alive.

Zote grew up to be a weak nosk who could barely defend himself in a den full of beasts that would gladly kill him if doing so wouldn't be a direct offense to a superior. His brother was cruel to him, his father berated him constantly, and his mother was hardly in the picture at all. Only ever watching him distastefully from afar.

His father did, however, train him, if only sparingly. The least he could do to keep Zote alive. (Doing so would be a death wish were any other nosks to find out about it...)

However, an elder in the den - hunter donning mask of weaver - gained Zote's attention as she told him fantastical stories from outside the den. This elder had spent a good portion of her life among the Weavers, initially being sent to learn about them (to make them easier to hunt) but growing interested in their culture and choosing to stay. Until she did something to get her chased out.

At any rate, she told the stories from the Weavers to Zote, alongside news of what was happening outside of Deepnest. This caused the runt to become obsessed with the idea of being a knight, as the stories just sounded!! So amazing and heroic and awesome and!!! :D Yea!! He wanted to be just like that!

To the point where he even carved a sword out of the shellwood... with the den elder's help. He named it Life-Ender eventually.

At some point, however, his father found out about all this. His father figured that the only way to eliminate this problem - as wishing to be something heroic that saved lives or whatever was SO unnosk-like (and would get him killed) - was to kill the den elder.

Before she died, the elder told Zote to run away from the den, and not to return no matter what. The idiot did not run, and because of this, he witnessed the Den Elder's death at the hands of his father and some other nosks.

Man! this does, however, cause Zote to be more... "open" about his ideas. By this I mean he begins carrying Life-Ender around instead of hiding it in his nest. what do you mean it's a comfort item what! no he's just rebelliously showing off how much he wants to be a knight. totally. 100% /s

well, anyway, not long after this, the idiot's father dies at the claws of his mother. Zote unfortunately witnesses this as well. When he tries to run, his mother catches him, nearly killing him as well. Luckily(?), this attempt is thwarted by Zote's brother, who was very distraught over their father's death. The brother swears to kill the mother before storming off. Zote runs into hiding (still in the nosk den), and begins devising his plan so to get the hell out of there.

Of the few times that Zote leaves his nest after his father's death, 90% of them ended with him getting pummeled by his brother. The latter was livid, blaming the father's death on Zote and frequently bursting into fits of emotional rage. Rage is great for nosks, other emotions not so much.

On one occasion in particular, the brother goes too far, nearly killing Zote. In the scuffle, Life-Ender is shattered, and that sends Zote into a blind anger (mixed with survival instinct as he's About to Die). Zote then kills his brother.

A crowd had gathered around them during the fight. In that crowd was Zote's mother, who looked to him approvingly after he'd killed off his brother. This terrified Zote, so he gathered the pieces of Life-Ender and fled the den forever.

Stopping at the hot spring in Deepnest, he made a disguise for himself based on the vessels that nosks would often capture. He made a new name for himself, took on an entirely new identity, and decided to abandon the idea that he was ever a nosk. He would just go to the City, be knighted by the King (who he'd heard of from the stories the Den Elder would tell him), and live out his life as a knight. Just like he always wanted. Not as a nosk. because he's not that.

The events that follow now are just very short summaries of things that happen throughout cogr.

- He breaks a statue in the Queen's station on accident after a bug finds him there. as a nosk. oops

- He obliterates the entire uoma population /j and burns himself in the process

- He repairs Life-Ender originally using mushrooms in the Fungal Wastes. Fungal adhesion is real I checked I swear

- He makes it to the City of Tears! and while there, he

Gets caught by Hegemol who mistakes him as a vessel

Drowns in the City's gutters

Purchases a cloth to wrap around Life-Ender

Hears the Pale King talk one (1) time and immediately decides he hates him

- While leaving the City, he finds a grub. That grub never really gets named, but as he frequented calling the little thing "Fiend," and the grub eventually began responding to that title, he just considers it a name for them now.

- Zote travels with the grub throughout the Crossroads until he drops them off with the Grubfather, being rewarded for reuniting them but overall feelings pretty :( about it.

- He then goes to the. So you know the houses that are underneath the Gruzz Mother's lil arena? Yea that place. he goes there and "guards" it, becoming that place's self-proclaimed knight.

- then he starts being paranoid about the grub and returns to the grubfather only to see all the grubs have been stolen. he presumes Fiend is dead from this point on (and dodges around ever using the word).

- Then he goes back to the lil town place only to see everyone's infected :(

- We then spend TEN CHAPTERS!! in Greenpath. In which he

eats a plant and dies

Stands in No Eyes's tomb.

Visits the Lake of Unn (and nothing bad happens)

Sees a nosk at the entrance to Fog Canyon and proceeds to have a panic attack

Kills everything

Gets caught by the Vengefly king

Gets saved!

has a breakdown

Yells at Ghost and then Leaves

- Canon starts!

- He stops in Dirtmouth, listens to Elderbug talk, gets told the Myth of the Great old Nosks who are now all Extinct. The news that nosks are now extinct freaks Zote out a little, but he absolutely refuses to return to Deepnest. He doesn't need to make sure. It's fine.

- In an effort to convince himself not to go to Deepnest, he goes to the City again, thinking it can't possibly be all that ba-- oh no everyone's dead!

- he inadvertently steals a map marker from Ghost and decides to use that as a pin for his cloak

- Zote returns to Deepnest. He's very upset with himself for this, but he just has to know if all the nosks are actually extinct now.

The answer is yes

but before that he gets caught by dirtcarvers and put in a web and has to be saved. this makes him angry

Upon seeing all the dead nosks once he gets to the den, and noticing that the last nosk was mimicking Ghost (evidenced by the mask left behind) before it died, he decides that he's gotta Kill Everything again

- more specifically we're going to the Colosseum now.

- Zote's fear of water evaporates as he goes through the secret passage in the King's Station to get to Kingdom's Edge. He only found it because he saw Ghost go that way

- While at the Kingdom's Edge, he gets caught by the Fools, who he stupidly challenges and then immediately gets caught by.

- sits in dumb baby jail for a while. mean to tiso

- Then the colosseum battle happens! He does not win he then gets dropped down into kingdom's edge with little regard toward whether he's dead or alive

- He grabs a Fool's helmet before leaving, going back to Dirtmouth, and intending to bury that thing

- this goes wrong as he bumps into Bretta. He then sits and talks with her for God Only Knows how Long, spacing out while doing so, and not even noticing when she eventually gets up and leaves him.

- He buries the helmet, shuts himself away in his house, and gets stuck repeating his precepts to himself. At the end of CoGR it is revealed that he hasn't been talking to anyone, and is instead talking to himself endlessly as no one is left to listen to him

and that's it! that's cogr. yeah

[capitainelevi]

For @pufferssss, happy late birthday!! ❤️

Waiting for sunrise

Words: 2968

The first and last time Levi visits Petra`s grave.

Levi arranged his cravat again, self-conscious at the thought of visiting her for the first time. He stood frozen in place, with a bouquet of orange lilies in his hand. Her favorite flowers. Just a mere coincidence, not an effort on his part, of course. He never imagined he would visit her here so early on. Staring at the newly carved headstone, he tried to set aside the nagging thought that the earth underneath it only held an empty coffin.

What should he say to her?

“Your dad came to see me after the mission, and I had to tell him that I don`t even have a body to bring back home to him”?

“I failed in getting justice for you and the guys”?

“I miss your tea”?

The only words he could spurt out were “Hi, Ral.”

He groaned at his awkwardness and settled on presenting her with the flowers he chose for her. He could feel his hands getting sweaty from anxiousness, much to his confusion. He had nothing to be nervous about. It was just Petra in front of him. His subordinate. Petra, who fought by his side for years. Who swore to devote her life to him. Just his Petra.

Levi sat on the ground next to the gravestone, unconcerned about the dirt he would have to clean out of his clothes at the end of the day. “I hope you can hear me, wherever you are. I like to think you`re listening.” He never spent much time concerning himself with death and the life that supposedly followed it, but ever since losing them as well, he found himself wishing they were happy. He knew that those brats would be wasting the rest they earned to look over him, no matter how much he objected.

“I hope you like the spot I chose for you. It`s sunny, but you also get some shade from the tree. I thought you`d like listening to birds singing." On their free days, he could always spot Petra with a book on her lap, under the shade of the oak tree in their yard. He never dared to bother her, worried he would disturb the angelic aura of the image, content with being fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of it. He never dared get so close to the sun.

"I`m going to bring some flowers we can plant next time I visit. I know you had a green thumb.” Levi omitted in letting her know it only took a month for the plant in his office that she cared for years to wither away in his care. Or maybe it just knew Petra would never be back.

Levi closed his eyes, lulled to sleep by the quietness around him and the feeling of the afternoon sky on his skin, considering if someone would bother him if he moved to the tree trunk to nap. He craved some peace.

“I`m sorry I didn`t get to come earlier. You missed a real shit show in Sina.” He took a glance at his wounded leg and sighed. “It`s not as bad as it looks, no need to mother me.”

Without raising his eyes from the ground in front of him, Levi admitted to her in a hoarse voice- “I kept calling out orders for you, and Erwin had to remind me that you`re not here anymore. Like I could ever fucking forget.”

Despite the emptiness in his chest, he went on- “Eren misses you. I really wish you could help me manage that brat. You always knew what to say to him. Hange misses you. I… everyone misses you.” They left a hole behind that he doubted he would ever patch.

Levi cleaned off some dust from her headstone before promising her he would be back as soon as he could.

As promised, the second time Levi visited her, he got her some daisies to plant next to her resting place. After wiping his hands clean on a rag, Levi sat down against the tree trunk to admire his work. He was sure Petra would be proud of the progress he made regarding gardening. He had even gotten a new plant to replace the one on his desk.

“Tch, not talkative today, are we? That`s alright, you know I always talk a lot.”

Visiting her calmed his restless spirit. His anxiety over the plan, his worry over Erwin`s wellbeing, his longing to have his old squad by his side again, they were all pilling up for the last few days. Levi found himself losing even more sleep lately. But he would never tell her that since it would most likely end in another one of her scoldings.

“You`re missing it, the final push. The brat`s finally going to do it, he`s going to seal the Wall.” Levi hoped that they would be able to carry out the mission. That his squad`s sacrifice to keep Eren alive would not have been in vain.

“You`re not being fair, are you? You already know what we will find in the basement, and yet you keep it all to yourself. Tch, be like that.” Would it all be worth it? The pain, the countless sacrifices, and the lives lost along the way? He wished Petra could answer that for him.

He never wanted to upset her, but Petra always encouraged him to let others help him carry the burden. Levi took a deep breath before speaking again- “I think Eren misses you. He`s been going on about how he wants to visit you again. Bring you flowers. To help me maintain this place clean." Levi rolled his eyes again and the memory. "Like I would ever need his help with that.”

Levi took the ribbon out of his pocket and started fiddling with it, ignoring the slight pang of guilt at how he came into its possession.

“I hope you won`t mind I took that.” The first night he spent without them, Levi found himself roaming the empty corridors of the castle. When his steps took him in front of Petra`s door, the urge to hold on to something physical to remember her overtook his sense of shame. He was aware that her belongings would go back to her parents in the next few days, but he hoped the red ribbon Petra used to tie her hair with would not be missed.

“I took your patch at first. I was going to keep it in my breast pocket. To have a reminder of your sacrifice. But when I saw that kid eaten up by guilt, I knew what I had to do. I knew what you would have wanted me to do with it.” He had no regrets about that. It was the perfect way to honor the kindest soldier the Survey Corps ever had.

When the light began to fade, Levi got up from his spot and left without saying another word to Petra. He did not want to say goodbye to her. Levi felt no need for it since death could be in his cards the next day. And he could get to see her again sooner than he thought.

The third time Levi visited her, it was not with a flower bouquet in his hand but with a bottle of cheap alcohol he found on Moblit`s desk. That night, Levi allowed grief to consume him.

"Erwin died. But I have a feeling you know that already, don`t you?" Levi wiped his nose with the back on his hand, too absorbed in his anger to even care about the disgusting habit.

"Are you mad at him? Are you mad that he chose to sacrifice your life?"

But only silence greeted him.

"Are you mad that I didn`t even question it?"

No answer again. The rage burning inside him overtook him, and Levi smashed the bottle against the headstone.

"Shit. I`m sorry, I shouldn`t have done that." Levi crouched down and collected the pieces of the bottle into his handkerchief. The grief, the anger, and now the shame for denigrating her place of rest were eating him alive.

"We found out the truth, you know? It`s a shitty world out there, Ral. But I have a feeling not even that would have cut off your wings."

Levi found himself craving touch. Her touch. And for the first time in his life, he felt the need to be comforted. He smiled to himself bitterly. How cruel must the deity who created him be for making him desire the impossible?

The fourth time Levi visited her, he brought a special gift for her. A small, odd thing that Armin called seashell.

“We saw the sea today. Just a big old pile of saltwater. But you would have loved it.”

Seeing the brats play in the water with carefree smiles on their face made him yearn for a glimpse of amber hair in the picture. He missed them all dearly.

“I would have to pull you out of it by the collar of your shirt, I bet.” For as devoted and strict as she was, Petra always seemed to cause him distress. Not that he minded it, of course. Levi found himself wishing to hear her timid knocks on his door again, even in the middle of the night. He longed for those times, where she shyly approached him after needing his help in whatever problem she found herself stuck in again.

While that was not his intention when he first came to her, his heart was heavy with words he never said to her. "The world hates us, Ral." He could never imagine how someone would ever detest someone as kind as Petra just for the blood running in her veins. But if he had to be true to himself, a part of him hated Petra as well.

"Maybe I hate you too."

Petra broke his promises to him, after all. Two years ago, when death was imminent on an expedition, and Petra put down her swords in acceptance, Levi fought with her. He made her promise she would make it to the end. That she would be by his side the day they kill the last titan.

"Do you remember your promises to me? Such bullshit. Never thought you were a liar, Petra."

But Levi knew she would have never left him had she had a choice. That she would have fought for even just a second more by his side. But it never dulled the pain of losing her.

With a heavy heart, Levi said his goodbye for the evening, guilty for blaming her for things out of her control.

The fifth time Levi visited her, it was snowing outside.

It was always a wonder how someone radiating light and warmth could be a winter child. But Levi was sure he memorized the date right. It was an important one for him, after all. Levi fought to make sure he had enough time to get ready for celebrating her birthday. She deserved nothing more than a perfect day. Hange had been more than understanding, the wound left by losing Moblit still fresh in their heart.

Levi put the bouquet of twenty-two golden roses on the frozen ground. “Happy birthday. Twenty-two, huh? You`re turning into an old woman, Ral.” The irony of his words made a slight pang of guilt rise in his chest. The passing of time would never touch her again.

“I have your favorite”- he said, lightly shaking the box containing a small vanilla cake. Sugar was a rarity, but getting a cake was an unspoken rule in his squad. Their lives were too short to worry about the money. The first thing Levi noticed about Petra was the faint flower smell emanating from her. The first thing after setting his eyes on her clean nails, of course. On her first birthday that they celebrated as a squad, Levi gifted Petra a bottle of scented body lotion. And some high-quality cleaning rags, of course. But she did not pay attention to that. She and the rest of the Survey Corps never knew how to appreciate the finer things in life. But Levi did not miss the way her face lit up when he noticed something she enjoyed.

“I could never understand your sweet tooth, but today, I`m going to have a slice of cake.” Levi always refrained from indulging in this vice. Having grown unaccustomed to sugar, the idea of sweetness was unappealing to him. He always felt bad for disappointing her each year when she sat in front of him, with a small piece of cake she had cut for him. “Or two slices. Two is more appropriate anyway. If I get cavities, it`s on your ass.”

The ground was too cold for him to sit down on, and Levi made a mental note to build a small bench close to her headstone. He opened the box and eyed the cake wearily, considering if he should change his mind. He took a small bite of the cake, and he almost choked on it. “Oi, this is so damn sweet. How the fuck could you eat so much of it?” But it did not stop him from finishing his slice.

Levi expected to find some flowers lying in the snow or at least some tracks leading up to her grave.

“Does your old man still come around? I`ve never crossed paths with him since the expedition.” Sometimes, when he closed his eyes at night, he could still recall Mr. Ral`s pained expression when he realized there was no one left for him to wait for.

“Maybe it`s for the best. I bet he doesn`t want to see me again.” To see the face of the man who was supposed to protect his daughter. The face of the man his daughter wanted to devote her life to. The man who could not even bring him a body home to bury.

“I`m a shit. Ruining your birthday with talk like this.” Levi was never good at this. In his spot, Eld would have teased Petra about her first expedition. Tell her how now that she was a big girl, she ought to refrain from soiling herself again. Petra would turn red from embarrassment and elbow Eld in the ribs. Gunther would point out that despite their age, they are still children. And proceed with teasing Petra himself. Oluo would try to defend Petra`s honor to gain her attention, which would make him the target instead. Levi gave a small smile at the thoughts. He missed them dearly, more than he would ever care to admit.

Levi crouched down and cleared the layer of snow covering her headstone. He ran his finger alongside the letters of her name, wishing he would have had more opportunities to write it down.

“Happy birthday again, brat.”

The last time he visited her, Levi had company. Gabi and Falco did not give it another thought before offering to help him see her again before they would all leave for a new life. A better life, he hoped. But without her by his side, it was never going to be perfect. Gabi set down the flowers before they gave him privacy. While they never asked him about who she was, they knew Levi must have cared for her a great deal.

"Hi, brat. It`s been a while."

He had so much to say to her, and yet, he did not know where to start. A part of him expected to join her during the last battle, but fate always had something new in store for him. Levi was uncertain if it was luck by his side or a curse to watch everyone he ever cared about die. But life was looking brighter, and Levi promised himself he would never lose anyone again.

"Are Hange and Erwin with you now? How about the guys?" He wished for nothing more than to be there by their side. But Levi knew they would never forgive him if he did not try to live the remainder of his life to the fullest. And for them, he would try.

"Does Oluo still bite his tongue? Did he try to flirt with you again? Is Eld still teasing you? Does Gunther still treat you as a little sister?" Levi chuckled at the memory of their antics. He learned the hard way that he never appreciated them enough before he lost them.

"I hope there is an afterlife. I hope it`s peaceful. You all deserve it. Such a shitty end..." He closed his eyes and sighed at the words coming out of his mouth. "I`m sorry, I didn`t mean it. But you already knew that. I was always an open book to you."

Levi felt guilty for leaving the home they bled for behind, but if he were truthful, it had not felt like home to him for years. With no one left by his side, nothing was keeping him in Paradise anymore. While neither of them voiced it out, he had dreamed of a future with Petra by his side. And for her, he would try to live a long and happy life. Before he got to be with her.

"I`m sorry... for the future I never got to offer you. The one you deserved. I`m sorry for the house I never got to build for us, for the vows we never got to take, for the brats that will never play in my backyard." Levi knew Petra would encourage him to find love, but he never would again. He could never imagine a future by someone else`s side.

Levi glanced back at her grave for one last time before he set out for the remainder of his life- "I`ll see you soon. Wait for me."

ao3