Ka(eya)bedon

[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.

Attachment

AKA single dad susbedo that never even lasted a week

Genshin + Getting in an argument

With: Xiao

Words: 2,4k

Warnings: Slight angst, hurt but Comfort and fluff 

Note: Saw the trailer for 2.7, I just know it’s gonna hurt a lot :D

“You can’t keep doing this, Xiao.”

The adeptus furrows his brown in confusion, clearly not following your sudden trace of thoughts.

“You know I can handle myself just fine, right?”

“I do,” he answers honestly and examines you closely. “Where are you going with this?”

You weaver a little at Xiao’s eyes on you. Suddenly more nervous than you thought you would be.

“Y/N?”

You clear your throat. “It’s just, lately I’ve been getting the feeling, that you might became a little too… over cautious? Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate your help and your concern, but…”

He tilts his head. “But…?”

“But I won’t break that easily,” you continue. “I am quite capable of fighting and defending myself.” You are careful to choose the right words; to get your point straight, but without hurting him in the process.

Xiao is a proud being. His status as the “vigilant yaksha” vests him a thankless task of constant alertness and conflicts. To the people of Liyue he always sees himself as a mere weapon. Thus, it was only plausible to him to keep the status up when ever it concerns you.

But it was frustrating for you, that he couldn’t realise that he was not some weapon in your eyes, that he was so much more. It has always given him a hard time understanding that.

Now Xiao turns completely to you, giving you his undivided attention. “Why are you bringing these conclusions up? Is something the matter?”

You sight mildly, somehow unsure on how to word your issue correctly. So, you begin by going to the most recent incident. “Just earlier, my commission to return the stolen boxes from some treasure hoarders. But just as lately every camp I walk on, it was entirely empty of humans. But all their riches and other stuff was left behind, including my assigned items.”

Xiao crosses his arms in defence, looking away. “Treasure hoarders are dangerous. Not highly intelligent mortals, but they manage to do great damage when in groups.”

“And I can handle them. You know. You saw!” you exclaim in protest.

“I admit, I was helping you out. To keep you out of trouble. Of harm’s way.” Xiao is still not looking at you.

Keep reading

“project: steal your heart” has commenced!

where various genshin men attempt to win over your heart through several steps of courting.

pairings: albedo x reader, ayato x reader, diluc x reader, kaeya x reader, thoma x reader, xiao x reader, zhongli x reader. (separately)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

updates: once a week

steps

the beginning: love at first sight

STEP ONE: “flowers for the lady?”

STEP TWO: “hm, what a pretty gift…”

STEP THREE: “a love letter? for me?”

STEP FOUR: “you want to go on a date…with me?!”

STEP FIVE: “how sweet of you”

STEP SIX: “care to take me home?”

the end: the confession

send an ask to be added to my taglist! please refrain from copying or plagiarizing my work.

<3 

(Name): "when u die, can I have ur earrings?"

Izana: "I mean.., sure ig.."

(Name): "I hope u die soon, mf"

Izana: *actually dies*

(name): "DUDE, THAT WAS A JOKE"

in love and flustered :-) 

♡

Betting that if little Kazuha could read all the Ayato & Vigil!MC asks sent to you, he'd either be fighting everyone physically or sulking in a corner.

Or both. In that order JAHSHSJAAJMA

FINALLY GOT TO DRAW IT AFTER 181823018301 WEEKS GHGGHGHHG, THIS WAS FUN LOL thank you kindly for the inspo countess :weary:

little devil

[ xiao x newborn adepti!reader ]

summary: what started out as an 'annoying little devil' turned out to be 'my little devil.'

note: wanted to post something for xiao's release and his necklace caught my eye gnekf also not proofread because im lazy as fuck fhskfj also the time line is a little bit after the archon war or something | m.list

words: 425 she smol | warnings: not proofread fjskfj

"i see that the two of you are getting along."

rex lapis chuckled at xiao's bewildered face, grumbling underneath his breath that he did not agree with what he had said—despite the fact that the child mentioned is currently seated between the yaksha's legs, fiddling with a few pieces of beads and what looked like a blunt arrowhead.

"is that so?"

"i am merely doing what you asked me to do," he grumbles, eyes casted down at the child.

"i see, do you want me to take them from your care to lessen your burden?"

tongue tied, xiao mentally cursed himself for not answering fast enough, for the archon's face resembles a smug man who just won a gambling session. another reason to berate himself was the fact that, indeed, he does not want the child to be taken away from him.

what started out as 'an annoying little devil' turned out to be 'they're my little devil.'

from beside him, rex lapis smiled at the yaksha, glad that he's not as tense as he usually is now with the presence of the newborn adeptus in his arms. it started out as a little joke, to test the yaksha's patience. but now that he can see how fond xiao had grown towards the little one, he knew it was the right decision.

"careful, that may not be sharp enough to cut but that does not mean you can eat it."

xiao took the blunt arrowhead from the little one's hands, uttering a disapproving 'tsk' when their little hands reached for the arrowhead once again, softly whining.

"brat."

"so, what might be your answer?"

rex lapis knew well enough what the yaksha's answer would be, but he wanted to tease him a little bit, wanted to hear it straight from his mouth.

xiao paused, weighing the pros and cons of the decision he wanted to make.

"big brother xiao?"

he hummed, meeting the round eyes of the small adepti, who had their hands stretched in his direction, motioning him to take something.

in their hands is a necklace, complemented with white bead, two pink larger ones, two smaller green ones, two lighter pink tassels, and the blunt arrowhead in the middle as a pendant.

xiao allowed the small adepti to hang the necklace around his neck, the weight of the pendant somehow feels reassuring to the yaksha.

now with a confident answer in mind, xiao patted the smaller adepti's head, turning to look at rex lapis to give him his answer.

"i want them to stay."

different versions for the miya twins & kita! (pt 1)

☆ do not repost w/o permission!