#Hakon having anger management issues

[whump-cravings]

Tortured Prince - Well Wishes

Tortured Prince AU Masterlist - TR3 Masterlist

1k | Original Work: AU of the Royal Three - Hakon and Rohisa's reaction to hearing about their brother wedding Queen Ochvlita

Content: angst

"Baltar... Baltar's alive, and he... married... Ochvlita?" Hakon echoed in disbelief.

"Hakon," Rohisa said from her seat in front of the king's desk. Still hurt and confused, he looked at her. "We have to consider the possibility that Baltar allied—"

Hakon's face cleared in understanding and just as quickly turned to anger. He stood sharply. "No," he said. "Don't even suggest it. He couldn't—he wouldn't—" Stepping away from the desk, he ran his hands over his head.

A stab of hurt and resentment shot through Rohisa, her fingers curling tightly around the cane in her lap. Why did she always have to be the voice of doubt? Wouldn't it be nice if, like Hakon, she could know that the hearts of men were so steadfast?

"Do you believe I enjoy positing this?" she snapped in a rare moment of honest ire. "I am aware of my reputation as cold-hearted, but do you think I have so little love for him? He's my baby brother, too."

Hakon stopped, his shoulders slumping. His eyes shone as he turned back to her. "I'm sorry, Rohisa. It's only... I can't fathom it. Baltar would not marry that woman of his own will."

"And I hope that's true, for the love of gods, I do," she said, chest aching. "But he vanished on the eve of our parents' assassination and only now appears months later in a public wedding to our enemy. It's..." she sighed, "too coincidental."

Rohisa had never been particularly religiously inclined, though she knew better than to publicly admit to such a thing. However, if there truly were gods above, she prayed now that her brother was in good health and conspiring against the enemy. That he had not succumbed to any mortal temptation or vice, that the Baltar she knew was the true Baltar. He surely could not have deceived them from his infancy, could he?

"Did you forget he cried for our help?" Hakon said, a tinge of accusation to his voice.

"No." Rohisa could never forget the haunting last message from their brother, one of the few clues as to what had happened. There had been some kind of struggle on the scene, and the lifeless body of an unknown man dressed in silvered noble garb. But with all potential eyewitnesses dead, it was hard to discern the truth of the matter. The message could have simply been meant to divide their energies and resources, or he could have been taken and had a change of heart, or any number of things.

"He had to have been coerced somehow," the king continued.

"How? She has nothing to hold over him." Torture could not convince someone to cooperate in such a manner, but the promise of power had swayed far more than one man in history. With two siblings ahead of him, Baltar had a slim chance of becoming king without directly eliminating the competition. Even though the Baltar she knew had never expressed any desire for such a thing.

Hakon slammed a fist on the wooden desktop. "You know I don't know!" he all but shouted. "But until we have absolute, incontrovertible proof that he is on Beor's side, I will not entertain speculation!"

Rohisa, lips pursed, fell quiet. There was little chance of getting through to him when he got like this.

Hakon braced himself against the desk, breathing heavy. Closing his eyes, he took a few deep breaths, then sank into his chair with his head in his hands.

It was a long moment before he finally managed to speak. "I... your pragmatism has saved us on more than one occasion," he said, not lifting his head. "But I cannot—" He paused, a quiver of pain in his voice as it turned to no more than a whisper, "I cannot bear what you suggest."

Rohisa closed her eyes too, turning her head aside. That tender heart of his... she wished she were better able to protect it. Would that we were not in a world that requires such callousness.

Hakon slowly straightened, regaining some composure. He laid a hand on the desk, gazing at it wearily. "As always, I trust you to... ascertain the truth. We still haven't much manpower to spare, but now that we know where he is, perhaps..."

A light knock at the door preceded Queen Mohini peeking into the room, forehead creased in worry and long braids swaying. "I heard yelling," she said in that thick accent of hers, looking to her morose husband. "Is everything alright?"

Rohisa gestured Mohini in further. Hakon had been loud enough that rumors were already going to break out like a bad rash among the palace staff, but they didn't need to let specifics out until Hakon gave a general address.

"We've received word of a royal wedding in Beor," Rohisa said after Mohini closed the door and stepped closer. "Queen Ochvlita has taken Baltar Nahali as husband."

The queen took in a sharp breath, looking between Rohisa and Hakon with upturned brow. "Oh," she said. "Oh no." She gave Rohisa's shoulder a squeeze. Fast-fading warmth emanated from the touch as Mohini moved to comfort her husband. Hakon readily leaned into her, interlacing his fingers in hers.

Rohisa looked down, an unbidden jealousy worming its way into her chest. That kind of closeness would never be hers—though, in large part, she didn't want all that such intimacy entailed. But when was the last time she was able to fully confide in anyone; to have them lighten the weight on her shoulders?

Before the war. Before Baltar and Hakon... She had lost one brother to Beor and the other to duty.

Such is my lot, she knew, shaking her head at her sentimentality. Too many secrets filled her head these days to truly fully confide in any one person, anyways. Standing with the help of her cane, she excused herself with, "I have missives to write," and left the grieving king with his queen.

taglist: @nabanna @emcscared-whumps​ @nicolepascaline​ @i-can-even-burn-salad​ @melennui​​ @thecyrulik​​ @there-will-always-be-blood

[stolen-breath]

𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦❜𝕧𝕖 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕙𝕦𝕣𝕥 -- 𝕕𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝟚 𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

!! TRIGGER WARNING !! blood and gore strong language violence suggestive themes !! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !! :: author's note :: god, i love this game so much. i've only just gotten to central, so sorry for having so few characters -- but if you want more of the guys from old villedor (vincenzo, klaus, hermann, carlos, etc) please let me know!

:: DYING LIGHT 2 GIRLS EDITION COMING SOON ::

If a Renegade hurt you – how would your boyfriend react?

𝒉𝒂𝒌𝒐𝒏

Hakon’s not really the kind to fight, but if he caught the Renegade in the act of hurting you, he’d see red.

He’ll take advantage of his innate stealthiness and sneak up behind him – you may not even notice him, being a bit distracted fighting for your life

He won’t even reach for his own weapon – he’ll grab the nearest thing in reach and bash the Renegade over the back of the head until he slumps over (unconscious?  Dead?  Who knows?  Who cares?)

He’ll drag you to your feet, whispering “We gotta go, Y/N – who knows when the rest of them will show up.”

He won’t even try to carry you.  It’s a waste of precious time, especially since he can’t really roof-run with you in his arms.  Bit hard to grab gutters and pipes when his arms are full of you.

He will run slowly – carefully – picking the safest and easiest options.  He won’t leave you behind like the others.  You’re different.  You’re special.  You’re not like his four wives.

When he gets you home (to his place – yours isn’t safe), he’ll tuck you carefully into bed and fuck off for a while.  You feel abandoned, alone, resigned to die in a bed that’s not even yours, and drift away into the blissful warmth of unconsciousness.

When you wake up again a few hours later, it’s night, and Hakon is treating your wounds with chamomile and honey, stitching any cuts with a trembling but oh-so-careful hand.

“Hold still,” he scolds, gently pushing you back down.  “He’s not getting you.”

There’s a special kind of comfort in knowing that Hakon, sneaky slippery Hakon loyal only to himself, is putting his entire existence at risk to protect you.

You drift off again, feeling safe for the first time since your arrival in Villedor.

𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒚

Barney.  Snarky, aggressive, anger-issues Barney.

He tears the Renegade off of you and throws him to the ground.

You don’t recognize the corpse when he finally pulls back, splattered in so much blood that you barely recognize him either.

He doesn’t even wipe the blood off his hands before they’re cupping your face, turning your head this way and that.

Your ears are ringing, you hardly hear his questions, but you answer what you can.

“Should’ve fucking been here,” he snarls as he tears his radio from his belt.  He calls for Hermann and a few others to give him backup.  “Should’ve known this was fucking coming.  Should’ve locked your ass up.  Goddamn Pilgrim.  You ain’t a one man fucking army, dumbass.”

He and Hermann fight over who gets to carry you – in the end, you choose Hermann.  He’s larger, stronger, able to block more blows.

You have to calm Barney down with your logical explanation – “plus,” you add with a pained smirk, “leaves you open to beat the shit out of any Renegades that follow us.  You really wanna leave that fun to Hermann?”

He grins back at you, relieved that you can still joke, the dead man’s blood smeared across his teeth.  “Fuckin’ A, Y/N.  You read me like a book.  Let’s get my girl back to the Bazaar – then, we’re gonna wipe the Renegades off the fucking planet.”

𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒐𝒓

The deaths of his wife and children weighed heavily on his mind for so long.  The guilt tore him to pieces.  His duty kept him from mourning them, from fucking burying them.  He didn’t even know if there were corpses to bury, or if they were shambling about Central with the thousands of other nameless faceless ghouls.

He never expected that a Pilgrim, of all people, would help him find closure.

Being the commander of the PKs of Old Villedor, he isn’t there when you get the shit kicked out of you.  You manage to escape on your own – you’re a Pilgrim, you’re thrifty.

You’re not upset that he couldn’t help you.  You understand.  He has more things to worry about than you.

He, however, is devastated.  Furious.  He stares at your resting body as you lay in the metro station infirmary, a medic checking your vitals every fifteen minutes.

Horror.  Fury.  Gut-wrenching guilt.

He’s finally found someone that makes him feel loved again, and he’s failed you.  Just like he failed his wife and kids.

Is he going to lose you like he lost them?

But you pull through, of course.  You’re a Pilgrim – you’re made of tougher stuff.

When the raw overwhelming power of relief releases him, he turns his fury to his soldiers.

With strict orders and threats of worse punishments than he’s ever doled out before, they wipe out entire Renegade camps and drag in any survivors to parade them in front of you.

It takes weeks, but you finally ID the one who fucked you up.

Aitor pulls you from the room so you don’t have to watch it – but you can still hear his gurgling screams as his soldiers take revenge for what happened to you.

While you wait for him to be brought in (and for quite some time after), he spoils you rotten.  Jewelry, fresher food than you’ve eaten since you got here, first choice of any spoils that come in from their looting runs.

And of course you sleep in his bed.  It’s the most comfortable bed in the metro station – and it’s the perfect place for him to keep you safe, even in his sleep.

𝒅𝒐𝒅𝒈𝒆𝒓

You and Dodger used to butt heads a lot – you didn’t approve of the way he scammed innocent people to make himself wealthy, and he thought you were a naive, innocent little bird that white-knighted for anyone that offered you a vaguely sad story.

Both of you are right, and neither of you are willing to admit it.

His men are the ones that find you and the Renegade in the fight for your life.

At first, they just watch, not realizing who the intruder is fighting.  Some of them make bets on who will win and how the loser will die.

Then one of them catches a glimpse of your face, and their hearts drop into their frayed shoes.

After a brief argument about their odds and Dodger’s temper, they leap into action.  Two of them pull you away from the Renegade, since Dodger will literally kill them if anything happens to you – but you take a large gash to the side as the Renegade desperately stabs at you.

He goes down quick.  Dodger’s boys are, surprisingly, competent fighters when they’re not up against a Pilgrim.

The two that grabbed you are already carrying you back to the Bazaar, despite your protests that you’re fine and you can get yourself there.  Even these dimwits can see that you’re not fine, actually, and you need to get taken home as fast as they can.

They can’t roofrun, unfortunately, so their way is long and winding through alleys and dark buildings too small to have more than a few infected in them.  It takes a few hours to get you home – by then, you’re unconscious, definite proof that you’re not fine.

Dodger listens to their tale with only half an ear, only enough to pick up the details he needs.  The Renegades have fucked with his property, his beloved.

They have no idea the hell they have invited upon themselves.

You have no idea what he’s doing – Dodger is a bit…dodgy after all*

But he seems a lot more attentive to you, and specifically you

His Bazaar obligations can wait.  You need him here and now.

When he finds the man who fucked with you, he brings him into your shared room and sprawls out on the bed beside you, pulling you into his lap and arms.

“Shh,” he soothes, brushing a lock of hair from your forehead.  “This the man who fucked with you?”

You nod, resting your head in the crook of his neck and shoulder.  You already know what’s coming.  You can’t prevent yourself from hearing what’s about to happen, but if you need to, you can hide your eyes.

You need to hide your eyes immediately.  Dodger brings in his most ruthless assistant, his right hand man, Klaus.

After but a minute, you beg Dodger to stop.  He orders the man removed and “dealt with.”

When you’ve healed enough that you can actually win the argument with Dodger about being allowed outside the safety of the Bazaar’s walls again, you see the body hanging from a makeshift noose outside the door.

The only recognizable part is his broken mask, the mask you broke in the fight, and the scar you left on his body.

𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒛

You still don’t know why Waltz picked you.  Of all the people in the city, he picked you.

You don’t know if that arouses you or terrifies you.

It doesn’t take him long to find out what his man did to you.  His crew is so afraid of him that they’re all spies amongst themselves, willing to rat each other out to buy even a moment of his favor.

Unfortunately, the traitor (for he is a traitor now, having willingly attacked his master’s favorite) isn’t done with you.

He tries to sneak into your quarters, maskless, bold as you please.

Renegades are great liars after all, even to each other.

He tries to smother your face with a pillow as you bask in the comforting warmth of the UV light above you, too drowsy to even realize he’s there until the room goes dark and the air you breathe becomes rather…feathery.

He almost succeeds.  He would have, if a sudden attack didn’t launch him across the room and snap his spine over a metal bedframe.

You wink in and out of consciousness as the crazed attacker rips your would-be-murderer to shreds with his bare hands, screaming like a crazed volatile into the night.

Not for the first time do you find yourself afraid in your waking moments.  You’ve never seen Waltz in his crazed form – will he recognize you?  Is this how you’re meant to die, at the claws of your lover rather than the comforting pillow cutting off your air as you lay half-asleep?

But the monster creeps toward you, oh-so-gently caressing your face so he doesn’t cut you with his razor-sharp claws.

“Shh,” the silhouette rasps in the darkness.  “I’ll protect you.  I’ll kill any motherfucker who dares show his face in here again.”

You drift off again, this time to sleep, as he slips from the room and slaughters the men who were guarding your room, the ones that failed you.

The traitors.

*I’ll see myself out

[keijikunn]

Rivalry ── Chapter III

── A @babythotshq collab “To All the Boys I’ve Loved”

Old feelings

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x gender neutral!reader Tags: college!au, angst, it’s kinda fluffy??? i don’t know, it’s not that angst either Summary: Tsukishima Kei had never imagined that you, his forever rival in high school, would write him a letter confessing your feelings. Does Tsukishima feels the same way? Word count: 3.7k

Author’s note: I’m dividing the last chapter in two, so I won’t be too long (trust me, it’s over than 6k and I wanna spare you all lol). Hope you all enjoy the chap III and I swear by the end of the month I’ll post the final part! Biggest thank you to @kaitycole​ and @newfriendjen​ that helped me out a lot, I love you two so much 🥺

WARNINGS: swearing, tsukki being salty but what’s new?, makeout (???), hints of anxiety

RIVALRY MASTERLIST

BECOME A BOOKWORM!

Ever since that… eventful day, you managed to avoid Tsukishima like the plague. It helped the fact you had classes in different buildings, not to mention the fact the college campus was huge. You were about to forget about the letter issue, as the courses have started a few days earlier and you dedicated most of your time to get things settled into a nice routine. Things were too good to be real, though. 

You couldn’t believe in what you saw the first time you stepped inside the extracurricular class, after the first week since classes started. Not only your love letters were sent to all your previous crushes (who seemed to attend the same college as you), but the person you dreaded to see again would spend the next semester with you during your afternoon activities. 

Tsukishima Kei smirked at your distressed expression, waving at you as if you were long time friends. He wants to irk you, Y/n, don’t give him this pleasure. You are better than him anyway, you repeated it as many times as possible before the bell rang - indicating the class was about to start. Fortunately you managed to sit on the opposite side of the room as Tsukishima, though you could feel his eyes burning holes on the side of your head. 

“Why is he so annoying?” You muttered to yourself, sighing in annoyance. The professor entered the classroom, quickly introducing himself and the upcoming project you would work on. You were excited for it when you researched about the university, it was as if a dream was coming true, and you made up your mind to not let Tsukishima Kei ruin this experience. 

“As always, we randomize the duos, so be prepared to work with someone who does things differently than you.” The old man at the front announced, and your guts were telling you that this wouldn’t be good. “Raise your hand if I call your name so your partner can find you.

The longer he took to call out your name, the more convinced you were that fate wouldn’t play nice with you. When the other two people left were paired up together, leaving you and Tsukishima without a partner, you had to hold the urge to scoff. As much as you tried your hardest to not bump into your old crush, the whole universe made sure to go against your will. 

I should have gone to another extracurricular activity, damn it.

“So… guess we’re a duo, now,” Tsukishima snickered at your disgusted face, laughing at your dismay. “It’s not that bad be paired up with me, Y/n, c’mon”

“You’re right, it’s not bad.” You started, sending him a sharp glare. “It’s the worst thing ever”

With that, you turned around to pay attention to the further details the professor addressed the class. You knew Kei would try to make your experience in this project a literal hell, but you weren't going to let his antics distract you from getting anything less than the best result. You internally hoped that the tall boy also aimed for that, despite his annoying demeanor around you.  

If not, you’d have a long semester ahead of you. 

“For God’s sake, Tsukishima, this is not how we’re supposed to do it!” You whisper-yelled at the blonde boy, angrily gripping on your hair, holding yourself back from screaming at his face. It has been two weeks since you two started working on that stupid project, and it’s been two weeks of complete hell and anger. Being at the college’s library didn’t help as well, since you couldn’t externalize your frustration.  “Can’t you read what I wrote down? Professor said we should follow this!”

“Yes, I’ve read it and decided that it sucks.” Tsukishima shot back, pushing away your notebook, writing a few words on your draft. “C’mon, Y/n, you should know by now that we don’t follow any professor’s instruction. We’re not at high school anymore, be more independent, won’t you?”

You hated to admit, but he was (at some instance) right. What hurt your pride more was that his suggestion was actually good- not that you would admit that, you’d rather die than say it out loud. This idea could easily work out with what you have thought previously, not to mention it would make more sense. 

The lack of response made Tsukishima’s shit-eating grin grow on his features, irking you the exact same way he knew he was able to. He proceeded to add a few details on the paper and neatly placed it inside his folder, collecting his materials from the table. You two have been workin for almost two hours non-stop on the project after the whole morning classes, you had to admit your energy wore off at that point.

“Give me the paper, I want to add a few extra things.” You demanded, holding out your hand for him. Tsukishima arched his eyebrows as if he was surprised by such a request, then he scoffed at you - like always. “I’m not joking, I do want to modify it a bit.”

“The point of this being a group project is that we work on this together.” He stressed the last word, zipping his bag and shoving it over his shoulder. “And you wouldn’t do anything, judging by how tired you are.”

“I’m not!” 

“Then care to explain how you didn't think about what I suggested earlier?” Suddenly your mind went blank at his response, what in the world does that mean? “You can think about this tomorrow, try not to melt your tiny brain.”

The tall boy left you without sparing a second glance, fumbling with his intertwined earphones as he walked. To say you were confused by his comment would be an understatement. Was he worried you would overwork yourself? No way, Tsukishima Kei would never care enough about you of all people. 

Yet he’s still your partner. 

“Fuck off, Tsukki.” You muttered tiredly, focusing on putting your belongings inside your backpack to (finally) head to your dorms.

The first time you’ve ever heard Tsukishima’s name was after the first exam of your freshman year in high school. Everyone was crying about their low grades, groaning at the prospect of having to study a lot more to the upcoming test. If you were not mistaken, a boy in your class named Yamaguchi commented how “Tsukki was smart” and he wasn’t surprised he aced it. 

“Hey, L/n!” The girl who sits next to you approached you, paper in her hands. “How did you do?”

“I got 96%.” You answered quietly, trying not to drag attention to yourself due to your great performance. People in middle school didn’t like when you mentioned your grades, claiming you did that just to brag. 

“Ehh? You’re so smart!” She said smiling. “Please, help me study! From what I heard just you and a boy from class 3 had such a high score. And Yamaguchi-kun said Tsukishima-kun doesn’t help anybody.”

“Of course, we can study at the library if you want to.” The offer seemed to appeal to her, given the fact she nodded quickly and proceeded to write down her cellphone number to you. “By the way, who is this Tsukishima guy?”

“He’s a tall, blonde boy. He uses glasses and if I’m not wrong he’s part of the volleyball club.” She answered, waving at you as she went back to her circle of friends, leaving you to think about who this boy is. “He’s not nice though. Always treats everyone as if he’s superior.”

You were able to put a face to the name you had in your mind after a couple of weeks, when another private school had a volleyball match against the male team of Hakone Academy. It wasn’t hard to figure out that the middle blocker with a poker face was Tsukishima, and you were surprised that he was actually good looking. Something that lacked in him, though, was passion in the sport - or rather in anything, according to your classmates. 

Ever since that game, it seemed like you started to see Tsukishima every day in the corridors. You’d see him walking down the halls, his headphones always placed on the top of his ears, muffling the loud noise caused by the other students. He was cold to everybody, even rude if you were to be honest, but he was something else. His interests were inviting, itching your curiosity to get to know him better.

You realized you had a crush on Tsukishima Kei when you noticed how you paid attention to whenever you saw him around school, hearing his steady tone (usually talking to Yamaguchi) and his snarky smirk. All information you knew about him was, being honest, too little to grow intense feelings, but what got you hooked up was exactly this: you wanted to get to know him. 

Things, however, didn’t work out the way you planned. The very first interaction you had with him was a disaster. You sounded way cockier than you wanted, you’ve never planned on teasing him and you have never imagined that it would backfire on you and lead him to dislike you.

After that incident, you discovered the aversion quite a lot of students had against him. Most of them claimed the same thing: Tsukishima Kei was mean, smug, had a superiority complex and always treated everyone poorly. A part of you didn’t want to believe in that, but how could you not when he mocked you in front of everyone?

Things didn’t get easier as the project progressed, not because it was too technical or that it required too many details. Yours and Tsukishima’s endless arguments and bickering always ended in screaming matches, hurtful comments and you two not on speaking terms. The premise of group projects was to create something together, but at this point you were doing your own thing while thinking about what the other was working on. 

“Are you a dumbass or do you just pretend to be one?” Tsukishima angrily asked, dropping your notebook on the table. “This is horrible, Y/n.”

“You think it’s horrible because you’re doing things as you wish, not considering what I have to suggest!” You responded, your voice tone a few octaves higher due to your stress. Currently you two were at his dorms - the library was not an option anymore, the librarian kicked you out after you were shouting at each other - both awfully close as his dining table was tiny. “This is a fucking group project, you said it before! So you have to listen to what I have to say.”

“I’m not listening when you suggest stupid things like this!” He retorted, ripping the page out and crumpling it to toss on the floor. You widen your eyes, shocked at his recent action. 

“Wow, Tsukishima, you are really being this petty.” A humorless laugh escaped your lips, you shook your head in denial, getting up to collect your paper off the ground. The tension in the air grew thicker and the man’s intense gaze burned holes on your back. “People were right, after all. You are unbearable.”

Tsukishima’s smug facade cracked a bit, you noticed, after hearing what you just said. His smirk left his face for a brief moment and his eyes mirrored mixed feelings, could they be sorrow, insecurity? You didn’t have enough time to decipher them as he quickly recomposed himself, offering you a snark grin. 

“That’s why you liked me, huh? Did you want to correct the horrible, mean, malicious person that I am?” Tsukishima teased, hitting your emotions with ease. Your mind was empty, only his words echoing inside it, bumping into your skull with force. 

You couldn’t understand him, honestly. 

One time he is all worried about you overworking, passively aggressively implying you’re capable of suggesting better ideas; and now he’s being childish and not sparing a single offense towards you. You knew Tsukishima Kei was a hard person to handle if you’re not as quick witted as him, but this? This level of pettiness and stubbornness? For a young adult like him, that claims he’s better than everyone else? 

“I’m done.” You stated, too burnt out to respond to his teasing comment. Your temples hurt due to the confusion the blond man was giving you, the constant push and pull between you two worn you out. 

“What do you mean ‘you’re done’? We’re not done yet.” He stated as if it was a matter of fact - which was, he wasn’t wrong. 

“Do I look like I care? I’m doing this shit by myself, you can do whatever you want, I’m done with you.” Silence engulfed the room, and you mentally thanked this peaceful moment. It, however, didn’t last long, because Tsukishima always finds ways to make things worse. 

“Are you giving up that easy, Y/n? Couldn’t handle a bit of teasing?” That was it. The mocking tone he used against you was enough to snap the last string of sanity inside you, freeing a rage you never knew you had against him. The angriness burned your chest as you slammed your hands on the table, making Tsukishima flinch at the sudden outburst. 

“Yes, I can not deal with your teasing ass.” You admitted shamesly, your mind ran a thousand miles a minute, not registering the words that left your mouth. “What I can’t deal  with is a petty boy that can’t take this goddamn project seriously!”

“It wasn’t me who suggested stupid ideas.” Kei spat back, leaning in your direction, inviting you to answer him - almost like a dare. 

“You always say my ideas are vain, stupid or whatever, but you never offered anything great or fucking brilliant,” it was indeed true. Tsukishima proudly belittled everything you said for the past few weeks, but never came up with something new. Instead, he modified everything you’ve given to him. “So please, before you put yourself above the others, do something that makes you actually the best-”

Any and every train of thought you had was interrupted by the aggressive contact of Tsukishima Kei’s lips against yours. Everything seemed to melt with the heat coming from the kiss, your hands sneaking behind his neck and gripping rather harshly at his blond hair. In between the feverish moment, Tsukki managed to sit you on the table and place himself between your legs. Gasps and soft murmurs interrupted the kiss every once in a while, your mouth occasionally made its way down his jaw and neck, nibbling and sucking his skin.Only until one of you reconnected them, tongues sliding against each other.

You honestly don’t know how long you two spent making out, but it was enough time to leave a few hickeys on each other's necks and clothes lightly pulled up. Tsukishima’s ears were as red as his swollen lips, the blond hair was a mess thanks to your roaming hands and the white t-shirt wrinkled.

“Still think I don’t suggest brilliant ideas?” Tsukishima teased, but the embarrassment he was feeling was written all over his face. To say you were speechless was an understatement, you’ve just had a full make out section with your biggest high school rival, the one you knew hated you the most. “Cat got your tongue? Or should I say- did I get your tongue, Y/n?”

“What the fuck did you just do, Tsukishima?” You demanded flustered, the feeling of his body close to yourself fading away. "Why have you done this?!" 

"Don't tell me you didn't enjoy, Y/N, I can feel the spot you left a hickey on." His comment made you groan in annoyance, because you knew you wouldn't be able to retort it. 

Not paying attention to your surroundings, you pushed Tsukishima away from you, quickly grabbing your bag to leave his dorms. You didn't mind if you forgot something at his place - you would see him the next day, anyway. All you wanted was to get away from him, to finally think straight.

The cool air of the end of the day would help you come back to a reasonable state of mind.

You kept acting around Tsukishima after the first encounter. Whenever you had the chance to irk him you did it, initiating an unnecessary banter. You felt stupid to say the least, how low could you go? 

Yet, you continued. Just to have his attention. Pathetic. However, you had a limit. And Tsukishima managed to trespass it with such facility you were surprised. 

It happened during your second year, exactly one year after you got so interested in that mean boy. Things weren't easy for you, many reasons were behind your unstable state. School was overwhelming like never before, you could barely juggle between regular activities and your club's. 

The stress weighted on you to the point you let your grades slip at one exam. You knew you had your worst performance so far, and the subject didn't help you as well. 

"I'm going to hand back the exams." Your homeroom teacher announced, earning heavy groans from the whole class. A sigh escaped your lips, knowing how screwed you were if Tsukishima knew how poorly you did. "L/n Y/n" 

As you got up from your desk, you felt a familiar pair of eyes burn holes on your back. The moment you read the barely 50% score written on the top of the paper, you blanked out. You missed how your teacher kindly smiled at you, reminding how this one performance didn't define you. The words didn't make sense to you, because for you it didn't matter. You failed. 

Tears pricked the corner of yours eyes, shallow breaths escaped your parted lips as you sat down once again, barely sparing a glance at the paper on your desk. You truly didn’t know if someone tried to approach you, mind far away from reality, engulfing itself in a spiral of self doubt, worries and self depreciation. 

“Well… looks like the top 2 student failed miserably on the test.” The steady, yet teasing tone of Tsukishima’s voice broke you out of your own head. “You’re fake, couldn’t even get more than half of it correct. You’re a lie, Y/n.”

“Not now, please.” It took most part of your will to mutter these three words without letting your voice crack. Tsukishima arched his eyebrows, amused by the scene unfolding in front of him: you lowering your head against your forearms on the table, shielding your tears from anyone. “Tease me all you want, but please do it another time.”

However, he kept going. Tsukishima pointed out every single question you got wrong, rubbing in your face how he aced another stupid paper while you were a failure. The classroom was noisy, the end of the period let the students talk freely, but you only heard Kei’s voice, adding to your pre-existent stress and pressure. 

As far as you could remember, you’ve never underestimated him in any interaction you two had. Sure, you threw a teasing comment every once in a while, but always bragging about yourself, how you’ve outsmarted him. But you were sure you never humiliated him - and you’d never do such a low blow like this. 

“Enough, Tsukishima!” You raised your voice, everyone now was paying attention to you two. The embarrassment heated your entire face and your tears finally ran down your cheeks, the blond boy seemed startled with your sudden outburst, though his smirk quickly returned to your face. “I got that you’re better, now can you please shut the fuck up?!”

Thankfully the bell rang, indicating classes were over for the day. You quickly shoved your test on your bag, throwing it over your shoulder as you turned to head to the door. With the sleeve of your coat, you wiped the reminiscent tears from your eyes and left the room. Not only you exited that suffocating place, but also you left behind the stupid crush you had on Tsukishima Kei. 

Since that day, you couldn’t stand being near him, all teasing interactions reduced to none and you’ve never checked the scoreboard as soon as the grades were out. You focused on your own stuff, trying your best to clear your thoughts from Tsukishima - which didn’t work as well as you planned. 

Every once in a while, in the middle of a studying session, you found yourself pushing your limits like you used to do to get a higher performance than him. As much as you hated to admit, Tsukishima was a great incentive to do better, to set higher goals academically speaking. And though he caused you a lot of pain, a part of you (the stupid one, in your words) still thought he was attractive, you still had a tiny interest in the true guy behind that acting. 

That’s why you decided to write him that letter. Perhaps admitting your “crush” on him would make you realize you’ve created almost an entire new person using his name and face. In a way it actually helped, you truly thought you have moved on from him and college would give you a new beginning away from Tsukishima. 

Fate, on the other hand, had other plans for you and here you are: walking slowly towards your dorms, emotionally drained and confused. The prospect of Tsukishima Kei having the slightest interest in you was shocking, especially after all those three years of. endless insults. 

Are those feelings coming back? 

“Oh, no.” You muttered to yourself, immediately stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, frightened about your last thought. “Oh my, there’s no way I’m crushing Tsukishima once again!” 

If you concentrated enough, you could still feel his chapped lips against your skin, his large hands roaming through your body. He was right about you enjoying it- in reality, you did more than you’d like to admit. Tsukishima Kei was annoyingly filling your mind with both his smart and arrogant ass and that unexpected (but surprising) heated moment. 

You needed to get to your dorms and take a long shower to put your thoughts in order, because there’s no way you’re having feelings for Tsukishima Kei once again.

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