Jeno-has-jaem

[4:08 PM] + superheroes + “what? you think I care?”

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 masterlist

“let him go.” you’re the first to get there, light on your toes as you land in the rubble of what was once a cute cafe you were meaning to visit during your downtime. that only angers you more, and somehow that helps the nerves crawling along your skin.

your eyes are pinned on the him, the blue flames that burn at the tip of his fingers, that seem to burn in his dark eyes, his long hair pulled back in a ponytail. his fingers are wrapped around a boy’s throat and, thankfully, the victim hasn’t been set on fire. yet. 

the moment you flew over the center square after receiving the alert, you knew this was different from the usual villain fights you’ve built your entire career on. heroes and villains were something of a capitalist ploy - you’ve spent plenty of dinners choreographing fights with your supposed rivals. it was supposed to be something of a morale boost for the general public, especially after people with powers began to emerge in extreme numbers and fear ran rampant. hongjoong told you it was to quell those who wished to cause serious harm, scare them with theatrical displays of the Good Guys beating the Bad Guys. affirmations really that would stop any real bad guys from attempting to destroy the world as they knew it. yunho always said hongjoong was a bit of an idealist.

an underground surge of real villains began to emerge and the delicate balance the hero-villain alliance managed to salvage for the past decade started to crumble. you figured it was bound to happen sooner or later - the hero-villain alliance was built on the backs of deception and money - it was never meant to last. yunho also tended to call you a pessimist.

Keep reading

— you are the best thing that’s ever been mine —

you finally confess to xiao and give him comfort and reassurance. takes place right after the events of perilous trail, so spoilers if you haven’t played the quest yet!

gn! reader

genre: fluff, hurt, comfort, angst at the beginning.

warnings: spoilers for the recent event, xiao and reader have feelings for each other, love confessions, first kiss, i’m probably crying while writing this, it may be messy. i took inspiration from taylor swift’s mine and fly by sleeping with sirens. enjoy! (or join me in the crying about xiao club, that’s fine too).

“but when you find the thing that matters most may you never let it go”

— sleeping with sirens, fly

shadows all around, the feeling of flying upwards faster than light itself and your weapon swinging desperately at the ominous presences nearing your position. you should feel hopeful, right? thanks to yanfei’s intellect and reasoning, you’ve found a way out of the darkest depths of the chasm; yelan and xiao’s power has worked as expected on the fantastic compass and it’s propelling you skywards, toward a way out. but see, that’s exactly what’s nagging at you: xiao is using all of his strength and power to maintain the energy flow and his previous self-sacrificing way of thought, paired with the injuries he bore when he could finally reunite with your group, have been plaguing your subconscious with a sense of dread. as if on cue, at that moment, you observe xiao’s mask and the platform you’re standing on begin to shatter, his body sagging, he’s panting heavily, the current task he has at hand taking almost everything he has. yanfei is the first to speak “you can’t keep this up, it’s too much!” the yaksha averts his gaze, some crazy idea probably passing through his mind. fearing what he would be capable of doing next, you grab him by the shoulder, prompting him to focus his eyes on you: “xiao, listen to me! stop! you’re exhausted, we can figure this out, together, all of us!” the adeptus can’t bring himself to hold your gaze, not now, not when you, the person he most cares about, look on the verge of tears, not when what he’s about to do will probably be a goodbye he never imagined, nor wanted to have to witness. reacting quicker than wind, and before any of you have time to reach out for him, xiao has activated his anemo abilities and all of you are propelled to the end of the tunnel above, the platform shattering below him, leaving him to be swallowed into the darkest of nights. all you remember from that instant is your blurry vision, tears distorting a reality you can’t bear to accept, and then, not fully knowing if you’re imagining it, you think you can see a golden glow, a shooting star burning through this stygian apocalypse; and you pray to it, you pray to celestia and to all the archons who will listen to please, bring him back to me, please xiao come back safe.

a second it’s pitch black darkness, the next, sunlight is blinding your already distorted vision by the tears that won’t stop falling. you haven’t opened your eyes yet, you don’t want to see a world without xiao, the boy you’ve loved for so long, in it. in your numb state, you don’t realize the hand holding your shoulder delicately. it’s not until he calls your name softly, that you start getting out of your trance. “x-xiao? you are okay? you are here? is this real?” you manage to finally croak out, voice breaking, a rain of tears falling from your lashes into your cheeks. xiao wipes away a stray one, and reassures you “yes, [name] i’m here, we’re all fine, we all made it.” and with that, your knees almost give out, you cling to xiao and cry into his chest, breath coming in short, sobs shaking your whole body. “don’t do anything like this again please! why? why must you put yourself in danger like this? why were you so ready to sacrifice yourself? don’t you ever think about all the people who love and care about you?”

“who could ever love or care for someone like me?”

“i, for one, i love you xiao and i wouldn’t know what to do if anything had happened to you! i love you and i can’t bear the thought of you considering yourself a burden, when you are not! so please, please…” you can’t finish the sentence, a new wave of sobs leaving your throat. xiao guides your head to his chest, where you let out all the fear and stress of the past days. when your cries start to calm, he speaks: “i’m not sure i understand exactly this concept you mortals call love, but what i’m sure of is you are the person i care the most about in this world. and i will protect you, always.”

“but not at the cost of your own life, not now, not ever. you have to promise me.”

and when he looks into those eyes of yours, teary, that look up at him as if he was the infinite and held all the light and colors of every galaxy, he promises, and he knows that, even if you didn’t make a contract, he’ll hold to his word no matter what, because he could never bear the thought of crumbling the heart of the one most dear to him.

after accompanying xiao to the temple of pervases and say your farewells to the traveler and paimon, you notice the exhaustion of all the events on xiao’s face. “let’s get back to wangshu inn, you need rest.” you say, with a gentle smile, tugging at his hand. he looks at your intertwined fingers and silk flower pink blooms on his cheeks; he nods and follows you.

the walk back is mostly quiet, but it’s a comfortable kind of quiet. your hands never separating, his eyes on you when you point out a crystalfly, or a qingxin flower growing by a cliff. in this instant, and remembering the message from ushi that paimon relayed, a little smile graces xiao’s features. he doesn’t know how to describe the feeling exactly, since it’s something he doesn’t remember experiencing before, in his hundreds of years of lifetime, but he knows it’s warm, it surrounds him with a comforting light, and makes his heart beat faster, as if the usual melancholy and dissonant anguish was being replaced by a melody evoking carefree laughter in the air of a summer day, mingling with the sunbeams descending from a sky the color of fresh glaze lilies.

before arriving to the inn, your steps stop in an area surrounded by trees, the last light of day casting shadows in warm tones through their leaves. your connected hands prompt the adeptus to stop too. when he turns his head to look at you, his breath hitches: you’re smiling fondly at him, your eyes twin crescents, and under the mosaic of shadow branches, to him, you are ethereal, a deity who has placed their blessing upon him. “xiao,” your thumb brushing the back of his hand delicately, as if he was the finest of chinas “would you let me do something us mortals do to express love?” your tone a bit timid, as if afraid to disturb the peace of the moment. xiao nods, taking hold of your other hand too. “close your eyes” you whisper next to his ear, and the feeling of your breath on his skin causes butterflies to unleash in his stomach. and the fluttering of their wings only increases when he feels your lips pecking his. he stays still at first, not knowing exactly what he’s supposed to do, but he quickly follows your lead. it’s far from perfect, noses bumping into each other more than once, the giggles you let out making xiao’s heart fly, so bright it could replace the setting sun. when your mouths separate, foreheads resting together, your hands caressing his silky hair, his face flushed, yours feeling warm, the evening wind carries your voice once more “you’re the best that’s ever happened to me, xiao. i love you, i have for a long time and i always will.” and because you understand how hard for him it is to express his feelings through words, you settle for placing the softest kiss to his lips once again, and wrapping your arms around his form, your head in his shoulder. and it’s then, when you feel his head resting atop yours, dark emerald locks slightly tickling your cheek, his arms holding you a bit more tight, close to his chest, where his heart dances to the tune of a symphony composed of birds’ flight, starlight and blossoming flowers.

all works belong to kazu-sun 2022. any editing, modifying, reposting, plagiarizing, translating or claiming as yours is prohibited.

[10:00 PM] + assassins/gang!au + "i want to go home."

a/n: for the person that wanted "yeosangst" i love you hope you like this, based off the song bellyache, warnings for angst, death, and some descriptions of blood/violence, the narration switches between past and present tense, 6k

-

you've got a bellyache.

your stomach curls in on itself, a sharp pain that crawls up your limbs, creeps up to the crevice of your heart and stays there. heavy. it's heavy. suffocating.

a dull thud resounds over the dull hum of the car engine and you sit up straight.

you're just hungry, you decide. you're fine. it's fine. everything is fine. you're fine.

you take a breath. another. the dark house in front of you looms, like a parent, bent at the hips as they chastise you with narrowed eyes and a skeptical turn of the lips. you barely remember your parents after so many years of this. you barely remember a home like this. another -

"open the door." the familiar voice and the knock at the window makes you jump, hands over your heart, your steady breathing gone ragged.

"jesus fucking christ."

"no, just yeosang." kang yeosang rolls his eyes from beyond the drivers side window, his skin flushed pink from the cold and his scarf slipping past his nose, revealing his lips. his sharp features remain on you, though, narrowing especially when you still haven't moved. he knocks a knuckle against the window, "now open the fucking door, y/n."

and you do.

your fingers are trembling (when had they started doing that?), but you unlock the door. yeosang ducks into the driver's seat, tossing you the backpack without so much as a second glance. he is quick to back out of the driveway, and as you watch the dark house slip away the ache in your belly, your chest, returns.

it's a terrible fate, the consequences you two will face, whether that is by the hands of the law or by the hands of whatever supposedly awaits you both after death.

you met yeosang fresh out of college, struggling to pay off your loans and get past your first round of interviews. at the time, he was merely a friend of a friend. mingi's roommate's friend. you barely knew mingi, really, so yeosang was nothing more than an acquaintance.

until he found you with blood dripping from your hands.

he convinced you that night that the police would never believe it was self defense. he looked at you that night with clear eyes and a serious face, and you could tell he didn't believe you either. maybe that was the start of everything. maybe that explained how you both were now. yeosang had stared at you, unwavering, and pointed at the dead man at your feet as if he were discarded trash, and he said, "why would they believe you? look at his suit. his watch. his shoes. his fucking handkerchief."

you didn't know the brands, just that they looked like they were worth more than you could afford in a lifetime.

yeosang murmured, "now look at you."

and he was right. you'd always hated that - how rich people were favored, how you were judged for what you wore and how you looked - but he was right. you knew it just as much as he did.

you found out a lot about yeosang that night, sat on an old couch in an abandoned warehouse with his friends (more friends of your friends) discussing your fate as if you were not even there. wooyoung from your accounting classes and the only person willing to help you during group projects. choi san, your third year roommate's plug she occasionally hooked up with for free weed, who you believed to be absolutely harmless. kim hongjoong, your lab teaching assistant from your last year that you'd always argue your grades with. your friend who was barely a friend, mingi, and his roommate yunho who you met yeosang through. there were a few more familiar faces you may have seen at parties or at the bar.

you'd stared down the barrel of a gun that night, with your most annoying lab TA from college at the other end of it, and, looking back, you think that was when you'd lost your mind, right alongside that man you and yeosang left in the gutter.

"technically they did kill the target." mingi was the one that spoke up first. you'd been surprised - though you both were friends, he only ever reached out to you for parties or to go out to bars.

hongjoong had turned his hard stare from you to mingi, asked, "yes, but it was messy. they've only caused us more problems. if we accept them, are you going to take responsibility?"

mingi shook his head. you couldn't even be bothered to feel disappointment.

"thought so." hongjoong said, turning to you with a lopsided grin. you wondered, briefly, if he'd wanted to do this to you every time you visited office hours and pointed out mistakes in his test questions. it was certainly the same smile he'd give you back then.

"i will."

yeosang said it so casually, so easily. you looked up at him, the dried blood making your hands feel tight as you fisted the hem of your shirt.

"will you now?" hongjoong tilted his head, and the dangerous glimmer in his eye stuck with you even to this day.

wooyoung frowned at yeosang, "why would you do that?"

"they have potential. no matter how you look at it, the target should have overpowered them, yet they managed to kill him in one blow. we can use that."

you remembered it all to be so clinical. the way they all nodded, the way they looked over you. you almost couldn't believe they were the same people you'd interacted with so casually over the years.

when hongjoong dropped the gun and nodded, you'd realized you had no choice in the matter.

he still asked, "so what do you say, y/n. want to clean up the mess you made?"

it was either death or joining them. the gun glinted in his hand, a mocking thing.

so you'd joined them.

and yeosang held it over your head from the moment you said okay.

~.~.~.~.~

"it's done?" you ask, now, watching as he rolls to a stop at red light.

"you think i'd be here if it wasn't?"

"i don't know. you've done it before."

yeosang finally looks at you, fingers tight around the wheel. "what's got you so worked up?"

you shrug. and he leaves it at that. he was never a man of words. that was more wooyoung's thing.

~.~.~.~.~

responsibility meant vouching for you at training and training meant pushing you to brink of death on so many occasions, you'd lost count. the trainees were separated from the main gang, in a warehouse at the edge of town that hongjoong only visited once a year and yeosang apparently never visited until you were brought in. even then, you only saw him once a month. the facility was run by a stoic man with debilitating punches. jongho. he woke you all up at the crack of dawn and worked you until dusk. then there were chores, most of which you were made to do because you were the newest trainee.

mingi had been kind enough to explain it to you, three weeks into your indoctrination as he stood leaning against the bathroom door, watching you attempt to staunch your bleeding nose, flinching at the pain. you'd snapped at jongho earlier and he made you spar him as punishment. the broken nose could be healed, but the broken ego could not be.

"yunho is coming," he said.

"then why are you here? shouldn't yeosang be here? since he's responsible for me?"

you'd spit out the word responsible with all the vehemence you could manage.

mingi snorted and it reminded you of the few times you both were getting air during a party. those conversations were insignificant at the time, but they made you wonder if you and mingi could have been better friends in another life.

"yeosang doesn't want to show favoritism. neither of us do."

"trust me," you'd said, "no one thinks he favors me. or any of you favor me for that matter. jongho just rocked the shit out of me in front of everyone an hour ago."

"it's apart of the job."

"kindness isn't?" you'd frowned at mingi.

"no," mingi shook his head, stepping back out of the bathroom, "it never will be."

and yeosang proved that during every monthly visit. he rolled up the cuffs of his dress shirt and gestured to the ring, fists at the ready.

he spoke quiet instructions at you. fix your stance, hands up, too heavy on the heels, and when his visit was over, he'd just toss you a water bottle, wave, and disappear.

sometimes, he'd knock you over the head long enough that you saw stars. he'd sit with you after those days, with ice.

many many months in, you'd gotten the guts to speak up on one of those days. with black dots in your vision and a possible bruised rib, you sat and asked, "why me?"

you didn't expect yeosang to answer.

but after a long moment, he said, "i don't know. maybe i see something in you i want to protect."

"what could that possibly be?"

he shrugged.

you'd spoken into the silence, "maybe you just felt guilty."

yeosang blinked at you for a long moment before he rolled his eyes and said, "maybe i like to have people indebted to me. it makes it easier when i need to call in favors."

"that's weird," you'd said, "and manipulative."

yeosang tossed your hand wraps into your lap, "i think you're ready to keep going."

"i think i have a concussion."

"too bad. get up."

and you did.

two years later and you stood amongst of a pile of groaning bodies, barely able to stay standing, and you looked hongjoong in the eyes and declared, "i won."

hongjoong looked you dead in the eyes, his dark eyes filled with a dreadful sort of amusement, and he did not bother to answer you, looking instead over his shoulder at yeosang. he raised a brow and waved a hand.

yeosang spoke, voice quiet and musical, casual as always, "kill the last man you hit."

he tossed you a knife, the one he always keeps strapped to his thigh.

you met his unwavering gaze, your belly aching. yeosang looked very much like an angel, even as he ordered you to kill. it makes sense. they were assassins, made to do the bidding of whoever hongjoong decides. training isn't over until you kill. on purpose.

so, you did, turning on the other trainee, a boy you'd spent day after day alongside, who you laughed with during dinners and you watched the terror in his eyes grow with each step you took and you cleaned the dishes with him and sparred with him and he shook his head, small pleading whimper left his lips and on his birthday you got together with the other trainees and bought a small cake and champagne and -

hongjoong laughed, "now you've won, y/n."

~.~.~.~.~

the hotel is quiet, likely empty. yeosang tosses the burner phone on the table, beside the backpack. you watch from your position sprawled out on the hotel bed. he glances over at you, wrinkling his nose.

"at least take off your shoes."

you roll your eyes before you kick your shoes off in his direction. one of them hits him in the shin. he glares at you before he slips into the bathroom. he doesn't slam the door shut behind him, though, so you know he's not really mad.

~.~.~.~.~

"you couldn't have warned me?"

you'd pulled yeosang out of the bar when you'd finally found him, after bowing your head at a million and one people congratulating you for your ascent into official ranks. he was standing beside san and wooyoung and you'd promptly grabbed his elbow and dragged him away, earning a snort from wooyoung and giggle from san. hongjoong shook his head at you in warning, but you ignored him. the consequences for that might bite you in the ass later, but you'd only been able to focus on yeosang.

yeosang had stared down at you with an insolent brow raise and it made you want to punch him.

"that would have made it unfair."

"i had to kill someone."

"you've already killed someone."

"i - that was different."

"is it really?" yeosang tilted his head and you deflated under his gaze, letting the brick wall behind you carry your weight as he said, "murder is murder, y/n."

"intentions matter."

"no, they don't."

"yes, they do. the first time was an accident!" you couldn't help the way you shouted at him, your voice echoing in the ensuing silence around you.

"i didn't want to be here. i didn't want this," you couldn't help the tears in your eyes. you hadn't been allowed to be upset about your circumstances since that fateful night. this was the one person you never wanted to show your vulnerability to, but you know, he's the only one you should be showing it to. he's responsible for you. no one else here was.

"then why did you listen to me? why did you kill him yesterday?"

"i - i don't know."

"it's because you wanted to live," yeosang pressed a hand to your shoulder, featherlight, barely there, "that's the same reason why you killed the first time. that's how you should operate here. everything you do, from here on out, is for survival. it should have been this whole time, but now it's your number one priority."

"that's not -"

"you owe me that much, y/n. from the moment you agreed to hongjoong's request, you've become my responsibility. your survival is my survival."

you'd blinked at him, frowning, and said, "it almost sounds like you care."

yeosang had scoffed, his hand on your shoulder suddenly much heavier, his eyes narrowed, clearly unappreciative of your comment, "one way or another, i always collect my debts, y/n."

you'd shrugged him off, but he wasn't lying. when yeosang did speak, his words were meant to be heard.

~.~.~.~.~

"what did joong say?"

yeosang ignores you, opting to towel dry his hair. he tosses the wet towel on the hotel couch. you wrinkle nose at his actions. he plops down on the bed opposite yours.

"he said, 'good job'," yeosang says, staring at you with his unwavering eyes and a small, pretty smile on his face.

you don't respond, nodding as you turn to stare at the popcorn ceiling above you.

~.~.~.~.~

the only time you've heard hongjoong praise any of you was when he praised one of your fellow trainees for his wonderful work before he turned the gun he'd had pointed on the dying target on your colleague and lay his brains out all over the floor right in front of you.

"what did he do wrong?" hongjoong asked, turning on you. the glint in his eyes told you he didn't expect to hear the right answer from you, and the gun in his hands already found the point between your eyes.

you'd tried to swallow the lump in your throat, "i -"

"he let the kid and wife go," yeosang interrupted from behind you.

hongjoong scoffed, dropping the gun, "of course you won't let me have my fun."

"new recruits aren't endless, joong, one dead is enough tonight," seonghwa said, shaking his head at the mess before him as he shouldered past you, "i'll go find the kid and wife."

and you stayed quiet, even as wooyoung took a look at the bullet wound in your thigh, even as yeosang held out a hand for you to hold while wooyoung pulled the bullet from your wound and stitched you up. you stayed quiet until only you and yeosang sat alone in his car in front of your apartment building, the heater and light hum of the engine the only sounds between you.

"do you need help going in?"

you'd nodded.

yeosang tucked his hand around your waist and allowed you to lean your weight on him, half carrying you to the door. the ride up was quiet, and he'd punched in your apartment code without hesitation. he barely visited, so you were unsure if he'd remember it. he helped you into bed, placed a water glass at your nightstand along with painkillers, and finally you broke the silence.

"if i fuck up, will hongjoong kill you? is that what you meant when you said my survival is your survival?"

yeosang stood over you, his dark hair falling into his eyes. your bedside lamp illuminated his delicate features, and somehow he looked less dangerous, kind even.

yeosang met your gaze before looking away, gaze flicking over the wall art adorning your walls. "he didn't like the way i undermined him that night."

"by taking responsibility for me?"

yeosang nodded, "he didn't like that you don't listen to him."

"i listen to him."

"the night you passed the exam? at the bar?"

"can he blame me for wanting to yell at you?" you'd sighed, "i didn't think he was that offended. maybe he just doesn't like me. i did spend an awful lot of time undermining him in class."

"he mentioned that too."

"that isn't fair."

yeosang shrugged, "it isn't supposed to be fair."

you'd watched as he flicked the bedside lamp off.

"he'd kill you because of me?"

"he loves his punishments," yeosang said, melodic voice soft as the pillow under your head. he crouched beside your bed, until he was at eye level with you. "nobody ever survives his punishments in one piece."

"sorry," you said, unable to help the sarcasm. "i would have been nicer in class if i'd known i'd be in this situation."

yeosang let out a soft laugh, an admittedly pretty, calming sound.

"maybe next time."

this time you'd laughed and yeosang just pat your leg before slipping out your room.

~.~.~.~.~

"want to talk about what had you so worked up?"

the hotel room isn't dark enough for you to sleep properly. the curtains are thin and the bustling city below never sleeps, so the lights streak through the room.

yeosang never speaks at night, even when he knows you're awake. you're supposed to be the annoying one. your stomach churns, the remnants of the bellyache, but you ignore it. you blame it on having a small dinner.

"it's nothing. i'm fine."

yeosang should drop it. he usually does.

but you hear his bed creaking and rustling, then you feel a weight on your bed. you pull your head out from under the covers, blinking at him. he's wrapped in his blanket, his dark hair messy, and he's looking at you with a determined expression. he raises a brow. your heart skips a beat, especially when he gives you a gentle smile, the kind he usually bestows on you when you're both alone, the kind he gives wooyoung often.

"not moving from here until you talk."

you glare.

he just plops down beside you, his arm warm against yours, even with the blankets between you.

you crane your neck to look sideways at him. you find him staring at you, a soft look in his dark eyes.

you breathe, "why hasn't hongjoong punished me yet?"

~.~.~.~.~

"what the fuck did you do?"

seonghwa's voice was sharp and it cut through like a knife.

"he was going to kill yeosang."

"so you think you can kill him?" seonghwa shouted, "we needed him back alive."

"i know, but i -"

"y/n, shut up," wooyoung said, stepping between you and seonghwa's seething form. "check on yeosang. seonghwa, we need to damage control."

"that was -" yeosang gasped, clutching his stomach, "that was fucking stupid."

"and you're bleeding out."

"yunho can fix it."

"let me see -"

"i said yunho will fix it."

you'd froze, eyes on yeosang, and his angry expression, the clench of his jaw, and you'd stepped back.

"fine." you'd said.

"go home, y/n."

and you sat on yeosang's couch in his empty apartment and tried to understand how home translated to yeosang's apartment in your head.

you came over often, if not to meet up with him before jobs, then to bang pots and pans and doors until he woke up and bought you breakfast. you'd memorized his code and he threatened to change it but never did.

you had a home, an apartment of your own, but it wasn't this. it wasn't here. you never accidentally fell asleep on your couch in your apartment. you could barely sleep when you were there, body always on high alert. maybe that's the side effect of being an assassin, knowing damn well someone could slip in while you're sleeping and slit your throat.

you woke up to a series of beeps.

wooyoung met your eyes first, with yeosang on his back, dragging him down. san was behind him, keeping yeosang from sliding off wooyoung's back. wooyoung bit his lip, his eyes full of something akin to pity as he looked at you.

"what is it?" san called.

yeosang looked up, met your gaze, and held it as he asked, "i thought i told you to go home."

"i - i'm - sorry."

"you never fucking listen, do you?" yeosang's voice was sharp, angry, loud. he'd never raised his voice at you, no matter how annoyed he got with you.

you watched as he stepped closer, his eyes unwavering. wooyoung hovered, attempting to steady yeosang, but yeosang just pushed his arm off. san merely stood at the doorway, watching, eyes wide.

"i told you to stand the fuck back, y/n. why don't you listen?"

he shouted the last word and you stared. wooyoung stepped up, said, "yeosang, don't."

"this is not your home, y/n. so leave."

his words weren't even untrue, but it hit a nerve you could never have explained until years later. it hit that lonely part of you, the part of you that forgot you should not have made a home somewhere without permission first. because, he's right, this is not your home, no matter how much it felt like it.

"i saved your life." you snapped, ignoring the urge to cry, fingers curled into fists at your side.

"i didn't ask you to."

"i didn't ask you to either, yet you fucking did it anyway." you stepped closer, until your face was inches from his, and watched him glance over your face. you pressed a finger to his chest, "but what i want doesn't matter right?"

"no," yeosang bit out, "it never mattered."

and you shoved past him, past wooyoung calling your name. san let you through the front door, only to follow after you.

you'd stomped through the building and all the way to your car. you fumbled with your keys through the tears in your eyes and only when san grabbed the keys from your hands and opened the door for you did you realize you were crying. san sighed, shutting the door behind you, before he slipped into the passenger's side.

that night, he said, "yeosang didn't mean any of it. he's just scared."

"of what?"

"what hongjoong will do to you."

you'd barely even thought of that, of the consequences to your impulsive actions.

"he shouldn't take it out on me. he shouldn't - he shouldn't tell me to leave like that."

"i'm sure wooyoung's yelling at him about that right this instant."

you'd let out a small laugh and san squeezed your hand and you pretended, for a moment, that you were living a normal life.

please come home, y/n.

the text from yeosang lit up your phone screen. san snickered as he read it over your shoulder, dodging your attempt to shove him into the door.

~.~.~.~.~

"is that all you're worried about?"

"isn't that serious?"

yeosang shrugs, his arm moving against yours. "it's not serious enough for you to lose sleep over."

you flip over onto your side, so you're facing yeosang full on. he startles, coughing loudly to hide the way he chokes on his own spit.

"i want to go home, yeosang," you say, resting your head on the side of your arm. "how long do we need to stay out here?"

yeosang looks sideways at you before he turns his gaze to the ceiling. "we need to drop off the backpack to the rendezvous and then we can head home."

you nod.

he says, "is there anything you want to do? before we head home?"

you study his expression, especially when he turns to face you, copying your position.

"maybe visit the ocean?"

"okay," he nods, "let's do that."

"seonghwa hates when any of takes detours, though."

"he won't mind."

you raise a brow at him, skeptical. yeosang just rolls his eyes and presses his hand to your cheek, pinching lightly, "stop questioning me."

"fine," you mumble.

he makes a move then, to get up, and that dreadful feeling at the pit of your stomach returns. you tug at his arm before he can slip away and you say, "can you sleep here?"

yeosang looks at you then as if you are asking the world of him, and maybe you are. you've always had lines between you two, lines the both of you spent every day toeing with the smallest of gestures.

you fully expect him to say no.

but he does not.

~.~.~.~.~

"we're headed home, joong."

hongjoong looked up from the documents he and seonghwa were pouring over. even mingi glanced their way at yeosang's words, brows furrowed.

"home?" hongjoong asked, a small lilt to his tone you couldn't quite place.

yeosang blinked, frozen to his spot for just the smallest of moments, before he said, "my apartment."

"both of you?"

hongjoong directed the question to both of you, but he only looked at you.

you spoke slowly, "we came in the same car, so i need to get dropped off at my place. i live close to yeosang though."

hongjoong only nodded, but the silence in the room seemed to be more heavy than usual.

"y/n."

you looked up at hongjoong, "yes?"

"how is the clean up work going?"

he'd assigned you grunt work as punishment for killing the target to save yeosang. it wasn't hard work, but it was tedious and disgusting and you'd come home extremely late to complete it. you thought he was letting you off easy, but you hadn't voiced it in fear that you would jinx it.

"it's going well."

"good," hongjoong said, though this time his eyes were on yeosang, "great work."

~.~.~.~.~

you wake up to yeosang packing your stuff, the spot next to you still warm.

you roll out of bed and yeosang presses your coat to your hands. you yawn at him, holding your arms out. he sighs, helping you into your coat without another word. he only rolls his eyes when you laugh.

the morning is colder than usual and you can see your breath. yeosang cranks up the heat. despite the cold, the sun shines bright, the last of the sunrise painting the clouds soft oranges and golds.

yeosang drives southbound, away from any rendezvous points you been told of.

the ocean, you remember.

you look over at yeosang, at the way the morning sun hits the planes of his face in ways you think someone could write lines and lines of poetry about. you expect content, but his brows are furrowed. there are bags under his eyes. you slept well beside yeosang, warm and content, and you realize he did not. his lips are downturned into a tight frown.

you can see the shoreline from all the way up here, even as yeosang turns into an empty road lines by tall, tall trees.

that dreadful bellyache returns, coupled by the tight ache in your chest you'd ignored all this time. you've been an assassin long enough to understand that something is wrong. maybe you would have realized something was wrong a long while ago if this wasn't yeosang.

"we're going to the ocean first?"

yeosang nods.

~.~.~.~.~

long ago, you used to dread training.

yeosang would say, in his calm, unwavering way, "get up."

then you'd raise your fists and go another round.

every time he knocked you down, he'd say so calmly, "get up."

"get up."

the pain would bloom all over and he would toss you a hard look and say, "get up. you should always get up and keep fighting."

the punch you landed on his pretty face and the accompanying crunch was utterly satisfying.

~.~.~.~.~

"i want to go home," you whisper, fingers pressed to your thighs, your eyes on his sharp profile.

"home?"

"to your apartment. to bed. you look tired."

"i asked you once what you considered home. is it really our apartment? do you trust me that much?"

our. it sits on your shoulders, a heavy burden and a relief all at once. your fingers tremble against your thigh. the trees loom over you, this time as onlookers, as witnesses to a moment that would be lost forever otherwise, now held onto by centuries old sentries who will whisper of this moment through the wind and birds and insects. perhaps even to the ocean you will not be able to see.

"i don't know anything else. i don't think that's a bad thing."

"i'm sorry," yeosang grips the steering wheel, even as the car comes to a rolling stop. the birds no longer sing. the sun does not shine as bright. it's a dreary morning really.

you had an inkling the moment you left the looming house of your target. the inkling only grew to certainty as you listened to yeosang tell you hongjoong believed you did a good job. years have passed since that night he killed a new recruit before you, and you've quickly learned that hongjoong only praises people before he kills them.

that's the thing. you expected hongjoong to appear with a gun and an amused smile. maybe even seonghwa.

you didn't even consider that it would be yeosang, but you should have known.

you'd asked him once if hongjoong would kill him because of you, and yeosang only said hongjoong would punish him.

you stare at the way yeosang grits his teeth, and you realize this is the punishment.

"you don't have to do it."

"joong took me in when i was starving. he saved my life. i have to do it."

"my survival is your survival," your voice shakes, "you said that to me yourself. does that not matter to you?"

"do you think," yeosang grips the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles turn white, "i'm going to survive this?"

you meet his glistening eyes, the furrow in his brow, the clench to his jaw, the way his hands tremble. you think of the way he slept beside you, his warmth, the way he shows you kindness, not in words, but in actions that you've always just thought was yeosang, and nothing else. at least you told yourself it was nothing, because feelings were not something you were allowed. they'd be used against you.

"oh."

"yeah." yeosang lets out a breathy, broken, bitter laugh, "hongjoong knows me like the back of his hand. he knows how i've felt about you since the first day and he used it to his advantage. he just didn't think you..."

"he didn't think i felt the same way until i killed the target for you."

yeosang takes a ragged breath and closes his eyes.

"until i admitted to san and wooyoung that you are my home."

yeosang opens his eyes, and the sadness there breaks your heart. he drops his hands from the steering wheel and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes.

"you shouldn't make homes out of people, y/n. especially not people like me."

"it's too late for that."

"i wish it wasn't."

"i know."

~.~.~.~.~

long ago, you were drunk out of your mind and trying to process your first real assignment. it was the excuse you told yourself the next morning when you woke up with a raging headache and the terrifying memories of the way your heart fluttered at yeosang's touch.

yeosang had pressed his hand to your chin, tilted your head back, and held your gaze. he murmured, "you're going to be the death of me."

you laughed, "i think it'll be the other way around with the way you kick my ass during training."

yeosang's thumb traced along your jaw, right beneath your lip, and he merely smiled. your heart pumped in your chest, even as he dropped his hand from your face.

he leaned close, murmured, "stop getting your ass kicked then."

you'd blinked after him, only to watch as looked over his shoulder and held out an arm for you to hold as he walked you back to his car.

you'd dared to slip your hand into his as he helped you out the car and back up the stairs. he did not brush you away, merely allowed you to entangle your fingers in his as he drew little circles along the back of your hand with his thumb.

~.~.~.~.~

yeosang takes a deep breath, "so that's it? you won't fight back?"

you shake your head. "i'm tired of fighting."

he presses a hand to your cheek, brushes at the tears there, and he says once more, "i'm sorry."

he takes out the gun, and holds jury amongst the trees as they bear witness to your long overdue last moments.

Who do you think? 

imagine reader trying on diluc's darknight hero costume and using it to bother him for fun XD

They were bulky but that didn’t stop you from slipping your arms through the sleeves, it didn’t hold you back from buttoning the shirt that didn’t belong to you, or stop yourself from slipping into the gloves that knew only one owner. You had a plan and you were going to enact that plan, whether these clothes liked it or not. 

Spinning on your socks, you looked at yourself in the floor length mirror with a grin screaming with pride. You looked awesome, even bad ass looking you might say; you looked ridiculous. The long shirt hung over your hips and even though you weren’t the smallest thing, you still swam in his clothes. It was hard to believe he was this much bigger than you -- it’s all that muscle. Still, you were giddy, and nothing was going to take that away from you. Even if you knew how silly this whole thing was. 

The ensemble was almost finished. Lastly, you ran to the small box, fingers shaking from excitement. It made it challenging to tie the string around your hair but you didn't give up. Once it was secured, you pulled on a few strands of hair covered by the string, chuckling at how they stuck out in disarray. One last look in the mirror told you it was time, the work had been completed, the transformation finished; the Darknight Hero was ready. 

Peaking around the corners, you searched for signs of him. Of course it was only him you wanted to pester -- not to mention you’d feel embarrassed if anyone were to see you. As mentioned before, you did look rather outrageous in this attire. Smart on your part for not wearing his pants when those clearly would have fallen down your legs and made you trip. 

“Ahem,” someone’s voice drifted in from behind you and when you turned your head to see, you caught a quizzical Adelinde staring at you, arms cross and foot tapping against the thin accent rug that lined the hall. 

“Hi, Adelinde,” you chuckled as you stood a little straighter, but not much. For some reason you felt the need to stalk your way around the halls in this outfit. Maybe this was why Diluc’s back hurt. “I’m just -” She held up her hand, eyes closing as she shook her head. With an understanding and placating smile, she pointed toward the door to the study. “Hehe, thanks!” You bound toward the door like a child ready to startle their parents while Adelinde followed after you as if this were the most normal thing that could happen today. 

The door creaked when you opened it. The sound caused you to wince and worry he’d turn around to see who was there but when you looked through the crack he hadn’t moved, or at least you expected as much. As carefully as you could, you pushed your way through while your gaze stayed fixed on Diluc’s back. His thick red hair flashing in the sunlight, short-sleeved shirt straining against the arm muscles that weren’t being used to their full potential. Diluc didn’t seem to notice your approach as you crept your way along the study wall, careful not to jostle any of the books and trinkets placed on the shelves. 

It took you a little longer to reach him but once you did, you debated quickly how to surprise him. Would you tackle him, poke him and duck out from his line of sight before he could notice, call out his name and leap into his arms? Then you wondered what the Darknight Hero would do -- you knew the answer.

Once you were close enough, you crossed your arms, stood extra tall, raised your chin and spoke in a deeper voice than normal, “Don’t move or the flames of justice will take you out.” 

Diluc froze, his muscles tensing as he lifted his head and slowly, confusingly slowly, turned to face you. The reaction on his face was priceless but you held yourself together, lifting your chin a little higher to kept the façade up. “W-what are you -” 

“I am the Darknight Hero, sworn to wipe out evil. Your time has come, evildoer.” With a swift point, and an extravagant flap of the floor length cape, you started Diluc down as he came to terms with what was happening. The stages of grief flashing across his face so quickly you wondered if this was how he got through each and every day. 

“y/n --” 

“I am not this person you speak. I am the Darknight Hero,” you reiterated, voice even deeper and more altered than before. 

“Where did you even find that?” 

“In the closet. You’re not very good at hiding things,” you spoke quickly, doing your best to not break character no matter how badly the laughter threatened to bubble up. You crossed your arms to hold it in while he took several steps toward you. 

“What is the reason for this?” 

As if on que, you threw the back of your hand to your forehead and lamented on the cause, “The darkness is just so overwhelming ...”

“A-are you making fun of me?” 

“It must be vanquished.” 

“y/n.” 

Tightening your fingers into a fist, you bent forward, defeated, “I can feel it spreading. My blade isn’t enough -- ” 

“I’m leaving.” 

“No! You can’t!” you yelled and reached for his wrist before he could get away. It took all your strength to pull him back toward you which meant you didn’t have any left to stop your laughter from breaking through, or the smile on your lips from growing because of his warming cheeks. “The corruption is too much, how ever will it be cleansed?” It was so hard to hold back your fun. Even with his expression growing more and more annoyed, you couldn’t stop yourself.  

Your grip on his arm loosened, the hood partially covering your face slipped further down over your mask and you reached to fix it when Diluc’s touch made you pause. His fingers found your wrist, his heat invaded your personal space as he stepped closer and, in an instant, your laughter was silenced with a kiss.

When he pulled back, all you could see was his lips. The sight of them made your heart skip a beat; you were thankful he couldn’t see how intently you stared at them. In your daze, he slid his hands around your head and took off the mask that barely fit your face. “Ah, that’s better,” he smirked playfully, before pulling the hood off your head. 

“W-wh-you’re unmasking the hero? How bold?” Diluc pulled on the string of the cape but caught it before it hit the ground. “You have to admit I looked good in it thought.” 

“I don’t think I do.” 

“AH! Offended!” you exclaimed and watched him drape the cape over the desk chair before placing the mask on a stack of papers. When he returned, he fussed with your hair and stood closer to you than he would anyone else. 

“Is it too much for me to prefer you this way?” Diluc brushed his hands over your shoulder, his fingers followed the line of the shirt collar you stole from him until it reached the buttons, you half expected he would try to take it back too. 

“What way?” you asked, curious as always about his reasoning. 

“Someone the hero wishes to protect?” 

His earnest answer would have surprised you if you hadn’t known him for years, if you hadn’t fallen for every tiny part of who he was. On the outside he was stoic, reserved, guarded, but on the inside he was more caring than the roots that supported a tree. “Aren’t you so smooth,” you replied and ran your hands up his chest and over his shoulders, fingers dangling above his back as you leaned in to kiss his nose. “If that’s how you like me -” 

“It is.” 

“Alright,” you began, but were cut off by a. A quick but loving peck that made your heart flutter nevertheless, “but,” you continued, pulling away from him slightly, “can I still wear the cape?” The tilt of his head and the exhausted look in his eyes led you to one answer but his defeated, ‘I give up’ response of, If you wish, led you to another. “Hehe, I like you,” you beamed, arms sliding off him as you ran to the chair, flipped the cape around your neck and tied it together. 

Practically jumping in excitement, you spun around not noticing the edges of the cape running into the desk and threatening to knock several items over. With a triumphant cheer, you grabbed the fabric, flung it open and dashed out of the room. 

“I may have made a mistake,” Diluc muttered, a heavy sigh following shortly after his words, but, soon, he disregarded the thought as the sound of your gleeful laughter flooded the hall and rejuvenating his spirit -- as soulmates often do. 

fights with him. includes xiao, albedo, kazuha. gn!reader. modern au!. warnings: arguments, err mild angst?. wc: 1,927. semi proof-read.

xiao — [✧]

fights with xiao are uncommon, not rare. contrary to belief, xiao is not the vocal type about his feelings, whether it be of distaste or love.

fighting with xiao is like standing on a tight rope hundreds of meters from the ocean and waiting to fall into the bottomless pits of water just to drown. he is careful around you but you are careful around him.

xiao has never been communicative, choosing to stay silent and never being confrontational. one would say he avoids conflict, choosing to stay in the dark and letting the issue resolve itself—afterwards, he would come out of his shell and act as if it never happened.

and you wonder, has xiao always been this way? or did you make him this way?

"what was that?" are the first words you say after he had pushed you away when he came home, telling you that he was tired and wanted to rest.

you would have let him, really, you knew how stress would wrap itself around xiao's neck. but he has been this way for a week and you're growing tired of trying to cheer him up.

"it's nothing, i'm sorry," he says, a tinge of annoyance evident in his voice as he stands before you. he feels apologetic when he sees the way hurt flashes in your eyes—knows that it will always be because of him and his actions.

"xiao, you've been avoiding me all week, what's wrong?" you question him, hands already reaching up to cup his cheeks. he deflects your actions, stepping backwards as he looks at you with a slight scowl.

"do you always have to be this way?" he snides, crossing his arms as he watches the way your brows knit in hurt, in confusion. "i've just been busy, i'm sorry if i forgot, happy?"

pursing your lips, the only thing you could do is to look directly into xiao. as you stand across from him, thinking if you should leave him be or stand your ground, you don't miss the way annoyance fuels in his eyes.

stand your ground and you wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. leave and you would do the same. fighting with xiao has always been painful because you never know what to do, never know if you should chase after him or continue to leave him alone.

"it was still a date, xiao!" you protest, taking a step forward to show that even in the most heated moments between you two, you still care. and you will always care.

"i know," he sighs, "i know and it's my fault, alright? i'm just busy with everything." and it was true, dozens of papers laid strewn on his study table, waiting to be finished; however, it was also true that he had forgotten.

"i can't turn back time, you know that," xiao seethes. he wonders what you want him to do—he was supposed to make it up to you after a week, promising that he'd finish everything before you. "just let it go, please."

you wonder if you really did matter to him anymore. "fine, then let me go too," you're gathering the rest of your things on the counter, not daring to look back at whatever expression was on xiao's face—because you knew, if you saw how nonchalant he looked, you'd be heartbroken all over.

and he's holding your wrist, tugging you towards him; you avoid his gaze, missing the way his eyes flicker from your face to the door. xiao wouldn't allow himself to let you walk out the door without his apology.

"you can leave... if you want," he mutters, "i'm sorry. i know, i was in the wrong. i didn't mean for it to come out like that."

"do you even still care? about me? about us?" it's all you can ask, hoping that he says no. hoping that he says no so you can leave with no regrets because god if he says yes then you will leave with a heavy heart.

xiao tightens his grip on your wrist, nodding as fast as he can, swallowing the lump in his throat as he answers, "of course i do."

even when he says yes, you still tug your wrist from his grasp, gazing at him for a moment—and xiao swears his heart breaks—before you back away from him to leave.

albedo —[✧]

fights with him are rare. the percentage of an argument with him is around 4.5%, but still, a little number always has a chance. rare yet not impossible.

and should you ever fight with him, albedo is quiet and composed. the high and mighty albedo shows not a speck of emotion on his face as he works through his table, gathering whatever is left of the experiment he was working on—at least what he could save from it.

albedo has always been poised, he is self-assured and organised, never making a mistake—sometimes he wonders if he was wrong about you. he is poised and you have always hated it about him.

the nonchalant look on his face makes your insides turmoil; will it always be like this? albedo rarely gets furious, instead understands the situation and tries to make do of what he can. at least what he does with his experiments.

“if you’re just going to stand there and do nothing, i suggest you take your leave,” albedo murmurs from his spot, fingers picking up pieces of glass, gingerly setting them on a tray.

cold—his voice is cold. albedo does not spare you a glance at all, instead, he brushes over his table and inspects every inch as if it was hurt. were you not hurt as well? the redness on your fingers was evident, and tips were scratched from the failed experiment; however, past that, your chest tightens as you try to speak.

for once, you wonder, did it matter to him more that his experiment had failed? not that you had gotten hurt in the process of ‘helping’ him?

“and you’re just going to ignore me?” you jab at him. you’re trying to look through his words, the only sixteen words he had spoken after the failure of an experiment, trying to find a sign that he wants you to say. something, anything.

you don’t find one hint at all, and you think twice if you should do as he says. fights with albedo are rare and you know it will pass just like each one has—did it all just pass? no, will he let this one pass

since you have done so many mistakes that he cannot overlook anymore, will this be the time he abandons you once and for all? 

“i should have thought before i let you join me in any of my research,” albedo spits out. “had i known you would have been nothing but a burden i wouldn’t have let you join me with your idiocy.”

 and so, everything that you had built up between you two crashes. he didn’t care like you thought—not when he’s staring at you like you’re the biggest irritant in the world that he has to face the moment he wakes up in the morning,

but it also sinks inside albedo that his words were uncalled for.

“sorry,” albedo repeats, again and again, his body already moving towards you and hands reaching out to touch you. like a broken record, each sorry is faster than the last; hoping that it would make the tears that wanted release to stay in your eyes.

because god, albedo hates it when you cry, hates it more when it’s because of him. instead, you push him away, looking at him with the most hurt of eyes that he’s ever seen in his life. albedo has chosen his stand and it will not change your decision.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers.

for once, albedo prays to the gods, watching as you leave him all alone in his study—just like he has always been. alone and in the dark all over again.

kazuha — [✧]

some would say fights with kazuha are impossible. he is polite and well-spoken, always knowing what words to say to comfort someone in need, and always a firm believer that conflict can be resolved with communication.

you, for one, believed otherwise. communication was not something you dealt with, in fact, you hated having to deal with confrontation more than anything. kazuha was the one who initiated peace at most times, sometimes you when you know you are in the wrong.

as someone who holds his relationships in very high regard, kazuha is gentle with you and his words whenever you argue. as someone he is fond of, kazuha holds you dear to his heart.

so imagine his surprise when you two get home from a small gathering, a frown on your face as you set down most of your things and tell him you don't like one of his friends.

"i don't like the way he talks to you," is what you tell him, and kazuha stares at you, pondering on what to say.

"i admit he's rather blunt," he discloses. never knowing your reasons was difficult and kazuha feels that he may have to pry it out of you.

"no, he's out of the line. i don't like him," you snap, "he was being pissy the whole night—and don't you notice the way he talks to you?"

while kazuha holds you in high regard, he does the same with his friends. while he cannot understand where you are coming from, kazuha believes you may have seen his friend from a different perspective.

"he talks like that with everyone," he answers, this time with a tinge of annoyance. you've met that certain friend three times, and kazuha has known him for two years, it's impossible for you to see right through him immediately.

you turn to look up at him, glaring slightly, "kazuha, you know, sometimes you're being too nice that you can't even see that people are using you! i'm just telling you the truth about him!"

"and i told you he's not like you think he is!" he raises his voice slightly. he watches as you turn away from him, crossing your arms as you click your tongue in annoyance.

"god, kazuha, can't you see that some people are just not as nice as you?" you scoff, "i understand that you're-"

"you don't understand," he speaks up. "you never did and you still don't. they're my friends and you're telling me he speaks to me out of line? i would know, i'm his friend!"

"and i'm telling you that he was being a dick to you and you can't notice it!" you snap, tears springing to your eyes as you feel your chest tighten.

fighting with kazuha was always something you hated because for once, you don't know how to answer him. and as you stand before him, trying to make sense of what you felt, nothing right wants to come out.

"because you're being crazy about it!" kazuha retorts, crossing his arms before he lets out a sigh. "let's...let's talk it over, i don't want to argue with you over this."

as you hold back your tears, kazuha reaches out to wrap you in his arms, hand on the back of your head.

kazuha supposes that maybe this time, he should listen to you. he just hopes that you forgive him—because you're pushing him away in tears.

NOTES ok so i said i wanted more fluff on my blog buttttt yayy i didn't think this one was too angsty so :p this one was rotting in my drafts, i decided to post this just before i update tomorrow hehe

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No thoughts head empty only rubedo and reader living that ✨cottagecore✨ life away from the cult like I've read in some sagau fics-- which leads to incidents like these happening:

Y'all should make sure to plug yall noses or Rubedo will be worried sick 👃 cuz that won't be the last time something like this will happen

Should I draw those too tho-

Attachment

AKA single dad susbedo that never even lasted a week

Pairing: Slytherin!Yeonjun x Slytherin!Reader 

Genre: Harry Potter!AU + Fluff + Angst + Enemies to Lovers

Word Count: 3.9K

Premise: Choi Yeonjun has been a thorn in your side ever since the two of you were sorted into Slytherin together at Hogwarts. Now in your seventh year, you realize that your annoying housemate might not be your “enemy” after all. 

A/N: This has been a WIP sitting in my brain and my drafts for months, and I am so excited it is finally here! S/o to @delacyrose224 for not only encouraging me to become MOA, but for encouraging me to write this companion piece to Loser = Lover. I hope y’all enjoy my first TXT story! - E ✨

—

Seething over your potion, you tried to steady your breathing, gritting your teeth as you meticulously counted your stirring. Five times clockwise, three times counterclockwise. Repeat.

You needed to brew this potion perfectly to appease your potions professor. He was loathe to give you back the house points you had lost earlier in the day, but he promised to consider it if you could manage to recreate the potion from today’s lesson perfectly.

It wasn’t even your fault—Yeonjun had been arguing with you about what ingredients to use, butting in where he wasn’t wanted, as per usual. He had reached around you to grab the grubworms, knocking your cauldron off balance over the flame. It teetered over the table, dropping to the ground, its contents splashing onto your black robes, burning the ends. The smell of scorched fabric had wafted up to your nose as you glared at your housemate, now standing with a sheepish but amused look on his face. He was trying not to laugh at your expression.

Keep reading

𓂃 xiao + idiot in love .

xiao hates you. he's completely sure of it.

you make his heart race, his palms turn sweaty whenever you're seated right beside him— and that's a huge problem because you're his seatmate for the entire school year.

his stomach twists and turns when you smile, and his breathing constricts everytime he gets a sniff of your hair whenever you take a closer look at his notes.

you always smelled like strawberries, sweet and pungent, just the way he likes.

yeah, xiao was definitely sure that he despises your entire being. 

"how do you know if you like someone?"

kazuha perks up from the question. he looks at the boy sitting beside him, raising an eyebrow and the slight upward quirk to his lips doesn't go unnoticed.

the blond was sure that more unusual things have happened to him in the past, like how he discovered that all cats run away from itto. however, xiao asking him this question is becoming remarkable on its own.

"what are you looking at?" the other boy growls at him. 

kazuha rolls his eyes playfully. he had almost forgotten how defensive his friend could be. "are we talking about y/n?" the blond prods— he knows that only one person could have caused this.

"w-what?! no! why would you even think that?! i can't stand them." 

see? defensive.

"besides, i was asking for a friend."

kazuha had to stop himself from bursting into laughter. instead, he opts to deadpanly say, "sure."

the kaedehara descent hums, thinking to himself. he had to be careful on what he says next as it will either give xiao a push or lead the other to even more confusion.

"you feel happy when you see them?"

the other rejoices inside. 

xiao, although he'd never admit it to kazuha, is thinking about you. don't get him wrong— he doesn't doubt that his feelings for you are 100% less than platonic— however,  an upperclassman, one he looks up to the most, asked him to reconsider his thoughts on his feelings.

(he remembers the golden eyes that pierced through his soul earlier, "are you sure of that, xiao? hate is a strong word." a rich deep voice says.)

he's sure that whenever he sees you, he doesn't feel happy. the opposite happens actually— he feels nervous and jittery when you enter the room and he finds this extremely out of character for him. and that's one of the reasons why he's with kazuha right now (of course aside from consulting the blond); he tries to hide from you to gain a sense of normalcy even if it was temporary.

"although, despite feeling happy with them, you try to avoid them too." kazuha adds, still deep in thought. "maybe because you feel shy?"

xiao grimaces. he is never shy.

"or maybe you're scared that you'll potentially embarrass yourself? either way, you always try to put some distance between the two of you."

the dark haired man becomes more confused than ever! he came here to make things clear (not that he needed to because he's certain what he feels for you is less than platonic, remember?), and yet kazuha is no help at all.

"you're not helping."

"how did you know? did your friend tell you just now?"

"what—? oh, no. this isn't the answer that my friend is looking for."

kazuha snorts, knowing that whatever xiao told him was a lie. leaning forward, he tries to find more about the never ending saga of xiao's feelings, "what's your friend looking for then?"

"well," your seatmate shrugs, thinking. "my friend told me his heart races whenever he sees this person and his hands get really sweaty. and then their stomach turns and they find themself short in breath whenever this person is around— that's disgust right?"

kazuha's jaw dropped on the floor; he hadn't expected it to be this bad for archon's sake. 

"i mean, that's how i feel whenever i see a broccoli or whatever." 

the blond finally loses it; he starts uncontrollably laughing. did he just compare you to a green vegetable? kazuha had to inhale sharply to attempt to hold in his laughter, feeling the glare that was being sent his way.

"you—" xiao starts to threaten, however he is cut off short when the door to the class opens, revealing the last person he wanted to see now. 

you enter the room, looking for a certain dark haired gremlin you had as a seatmate. there is less than five minutes before lunch break ends and you were starting to get worried without xiao sitting beside you. so, after asking a lot of people if they had seen him (god was he hard to find, it was as if he was avoiding you), you find yourself staring at the man of the hour, beside a very purple kazuha.

(why is he holding his breath?)

"xiao! classes are about to start soon." 

"y-yeah, i'll be right there." he stutters, and you definitely saw him kicking his blond friend under the table when kazuha attempted to speak. you eye them both suspiciously before quickly noticing xiao's reddened cheeks.

(with his green undertones on his hair, he certainly looked like a poorly decorated christmas tree.)

you take a step closer to the pair before putting the back of your palm on your seatmate's forehead. "you seem fine, you don't have a fever."

kazuha on the side audibly gasps.

if xiao didn't feel hot earlier, he's certain he is now. heat rises and covers his entire face and he sees your eyebrows furrow. without giving you a chance to speak, xiao practically shoves you away (rude), before disappearing behind the doors.

you turn to the blond left behind, "what's up with him?"

kazuha shrugs, as if teasing, "i don't know. what's up between you two?

♥︎ please do not repost or translate without my permission . reblogs are heavily appreciated!

dedicated to my friend @eufrsr who's finally a xiao haver!