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harrysweasleys · 4 years

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Lost

Request: Hii could you do a Draco x reader where she's the super perfect student, really kind and happy girl but one day he finds her drinking and smoking and crying because she's so sad and like, lost?thank youu💗

Warnings: language, underaged drinking

Word Count: 3k

A/N: so this is a little ooc but i tried my best! also, my requests are still open but i’ve got a long line so it might be a while, sorry to those still waiting! xxx (gif is not mine.)

“I mean did you see the look on Bell’s face when I knocked the Bludger at her face?” Pansy grinned, flopping down on the couch next to you, her hair still wind-swept from the Quidditch match she had won with Slytherin that afternoon.

“I did see her face, you did a good job,” you replied, grinning, “It’s always nice to get a win.”

“I’m still surprised you didn’t come back to the Quidditch team this year. We miss our Keeper,” she playfully nudged your shoulder, knocking you over to the side slightly.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, Pans,” you sighed, “I’m really trying to focus on my NEWTs so I didn’t want the distraction. But I still love watching!”

“Psh, it’s not the same,” she rolled her eyes, “Besides, I could talk to you about how our stupid captain likes to inflate his ego.” You giggled lightly, remembering all the good gossip sessions the two of you shared while you were on the team.

“Wouldn’t be talking about me, now would you?” Draco asked, sitting on the couch opposite of you, his hair tousled and his nose still pink from the brisk outdoor air.

“Never,” you smiled, lifting your legs to place your toes closer to the fire. Despite the fireplace that raged on every hour of the day, the common room always had a chill in the air — being in the dungeons and under the Black Lake probably had something to do with it. It didn’t help that you got cold easily.

“How’d you like the game?” he nudged his head in your direction, placing his hands behind his head and leaning back, closing his eyes in exhaustion. His jawline stuck out and his eyelashes fluttered shut, brushing against the pale skin of his cheeks.

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts, “Good. You all did really well. Nice job catching the Snitch too.”

He opened his eyes once more and grinned at you, “Always love your positivity. See, Pansy, this is how true friends behave. They don’t hit each other with broomsticks.”

You hid your giggle, watching as Pansy leaned forwards with her eyes wide, “You were being an arse, Malfoy.”

“C’mon, Pans, did you actually hit him with a broom?” you asked, still containing your giggles. The two of them had a bantering friendship, never really seeing eye-to-eye, but they didn’t exactly hate each other either. You were often stuck playing mediator.

“Yes, she did, I have a bruise on my eyebrow,” Draco leaned forwards, pointing to his eyebrow. You couldn’t see much considering the fire was the only light source, but you pretended to see it.

“What did he do to deserve a broomstick whack?” you turned to Pansy, a light smile on your lips as Draco leaned back into the couch cushion with a scowl on his face, directed straight at the girl sitting next to you.

“He let his ego get in the way. When we were celebrating the win, he said we wouldn’t have won if he didn’t catch the Snitch,” she glared at him, arms crossed, “So — like I said, he was an arse.”

You nodded, feeling like you were in the middle of a fight between two children who were arguing about who hit who first.

“Aw, and how did that make you feel?” you placed a hand on her shoulder condescendingly, making her scoff and whack your arm away. You started laughing, ignoring the way she stood up and flipped Malfoy off before going towards the dorm rooms and disappearing behind the door.

“Drama Queen,” Draco mumbled, getting up from his spot on the couch and coming to sit next to you, taking the seat that was previously Pansy’s.

“Says you,” you retaliated, a smirk on your face. You turned to face him, noticing the bruise above his eyebrow now that the fire light was hitting it directly. Despite the little mark, he still looked really good.

Now, you and Draco weren’t exactly dating, but it was clear that there was some sort of connection between you two. From the moment you had met, you picked up on how different he was. Entitled, yes, but he had a certain intriguing air about him that drew you in, and he found the same about you.

He was tough, while you were kind. He was rebellious and hard, while you were focused and passionate. There was a fire in his eyes, ready to burn through whatever stood in his way, while you used the road that didn’t exactly require demolition.

Long story short, you were polar opposites, and that’s exactly what drew you to each other. You had a soft spot for each other and despite the flirting and the touching, you stayed friends and your other friends stayed oblivious.

“I’m not dramatic,” he mumbled, bringing you back to reality, “I’m just — shall we say determined?”

“Keep telling yourself that,” you grinned, pushing your shoulder up against his like Pansy had done to you beforehand.

“I will,” he grinned softly, gazing down at you with tired eyes, “Also, I saw you wore my sweater to the game.”

Your cheeks flushed, “Oh, sorry, I just saw it since you left it on the back of the chair last night and—,”

“No, I liked it,” he cut you off, chuckling, “It was cute.”

You sat back silently, grinning to yourself like a bit of an idiot, but trying your best to keep cool. After a good moment of comfortable silence, you peeled your eyes away from the cozy fireplace and turned to face Draco, who was mid-yawn.

“I’m off to bed then,” he stood up abruptly and smiled down at you, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you smiled back, watching his retreating form take off towards the boys dormitory, only to disappear seconds later with a silent shutting of the door.

You sulked back into the couch, noticing for the first time that you were indeed alone in the common room. The clock on the wall pointed at 12:13am — you had no idea it was this late. Where had the time gone?

A part of you was overwhelmed with sudden loneliness, tiredness, and fatigue, while the other part of you felt incredibly awake and aware of how currently small you felt in the entire world around you.

It didn’t make much sense, but your mind was prone to drifting away while you were tired. You’d think about how your parents hadn’t contacted you since you were told you got accepted to Hogwarts — you were a muggleborn — and they felt as if your ‘abnormality’ was too big to overcome. You’d think about how you had no idea why the magical world had picked you. You’d think about what you even wanted to do in the future.

You had spoken to Snape last year about working in Magical Law Enforcement, but you weren’t so sure anymore. Things had changed now that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to face it.

There were so, so many things that you kept bottled up, not watching to spill your deepest darkest emotions to your friends and scare them away. So, you put up the constant facade of a girl who wore a smile and held her head high.

After all, that’s the only side of you people saw anyways.

— —

The corridors are night were almost more magical than they were during the day. The lanterns lit up the walls and cast looming shadows over the intricate stone. The stars were clear from the mountainside and the moon’s light shone down upon the castle like that was its entire purpose.

You thought it was gorgeous.

Which is often why you found yourself wandering the halls in the hours before curfew, finding deserted halls and empty chambers to explore and discover. Luckily, due to the colder weather out, other students would rush back to the warmth of their dorms after dinner time, so you got to lurk around in privacy.

You found an open hallway overlooking the lake and decided to climb through the opening and sit on the ledge, admiring the way the moon’s light shone down on the ripples to look like dancing stars. And the way that the actual stars reflected off as well, as if the night sky had been placed into the lake.

The cool breeze passed through your hair, goosebumps rising in its wake. You could feel the way you entire body was ready to collapse, ready to fall over and stay there, but you held yourself up enough to reach into your thick jacket and pull out a flask.

Yes, you were underaged. No, you hadn’t stolen this.

Well, not technically.

You had stayed with your aunt and uncle over the last summer holidays and they had given you a flask for your birthday gift. A strange gift, if you had to admit, but it came in much handier than you expected.

So, you got rebellious. One day when they were out, you had filled the flask with an old bottle of Whiskey which hadn’t been touched in ages. And now, you carried the full flask around in case you found yourself at a low point.

Like now.

The day had been great up until now. Classes passed by smoothly, Draco and Pansy had kept their bickering to a minimum, and you had even been spoken to by Snape — your head of House — about being promoted to Prefect next term. You were more excited about it than you wanted to let on. Being Prefect meant you’d get to spend more time with Draco, who was of course, already one.

But as supper time came around, it was as if all of your good feelings were too good to be true. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly where your mood started to plummet, but after your cat — Mister Flufferson — got sick, and your period came on strong as well as a migraine headache and an overwhelming feeling of longing to have a break, you found yourself wanting to be alone for a good amount of time.

So that’s how you ended up sitting over the lake, silent tears pouring down your eyes and the flask gripped tightly in your right hand, lifting every so often just enough for you to take another sip.

The fiery liquid burned your throat, leaving it feeling like it was being scorched, but you kept on. The pain felt number by the second, and the fluttery feeling in your belly kept growing.

The tears didn’t stop, but you weren’t sobbing. You weren’t curled up on the floor with your head in your knees. You were just crying. Crying because you didn’t know how to deal with the feeling of being sad. Crying because you felt helpless, like there was nothing you could do to even help yourself. Crying because although you gave your time and energy to comfort your friends, none of them ever checked up on you because you just seemed happy.

So you kept drinking sip by sip until the dancing lights on the lake were more amusing than they had ever been.

“I don’t know, usually she’s out but something about her seemed different tonight,” a voice echoed down the corridor, making you close the flask quickly and widen your eyes.

Shit.

If it was a teacher, you’d be in deep trouble.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” a second voice spoke, “She’s always fine so she’s probably still fine.”

“Can you shut up, Parkinson?” the first voice snapped back. Your mind, although fuzzy, could make out the voices of Pansy and Draco, their heavy footsteps moving closer to you by the second.

You hopped over the ledge, hiding behind the stone wall and placing the flask back in your coat pocket. The sudden jump made your body suddenly nauseous, and you had to place your hand over your mouth to keep your dinner in.

“Did you hear that?” Draco’s voice seemed much closer.

“No. I’m going back to the common room, I’m freezing,” Pansy’s teeth were clattering, “when she comes back safe and sound I’ll be able to say I told you so.”

And with that, her footsteps retreated down the hall around around the corner.

You knew Draco was still standing there, so you continued trying to be quiet. But, to your extreme misfortune, you let out an incredibly loud hiccough.

“Is someone there?” Draco’s voice was louder, he was no longer trying to be quiet.

“No,” you replied back just as loud, smacking your forehead as you realized you gave yourself away.

His head immediately peered over the ledge, seeing you crouched down in the grass.

“Y/N! I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he spoke sternly, his face trying to be strict but his eyes showing clear signs of concern, “Why are you hiding down here in the grass?” He stuck out his hand for you to grab, which you did.

“No reason,” you let him pull you up, but you stumbled as you made your way over the ledge, his hands steadying you by grabbing your waist.

“Wait — were you crying?” his eyes noticed yours, the red puffiness giving you away.

“Of course not,” you sniffed, pulling away from him and using the wall to steady yourself. You had either stood up way too fast or the whiskey was getting to your head, but dizziness was very much present.

“Yes you were, don’t lie to me,” he walked closer to you, “Are you drunk?”

His tone made you wince, “No. I just had some whimsey.”

He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow, “Whimsey? You mean whiskey? Merlin, Y/N, what were you thinking?”

You stood up taller, squaring your shoulders so you didn’t look so weak and pathetic.

“I wasn’t thinking, Draco,” you replied softly, “Just let me be.”

Of course, you didn’t want him to leave you alone. If anything you wanted his company more than anything, but you hated the fact that now he’d seen you at your lowest.

“I’m not leaving you,” he placed a hand on your shoulder. You weren’t sure what caused it, but next thing you know, you let out a sob and leaned against his shoulder, your body shaking and your tears soaking his robes.

“Woah, what’s wrong?” he placed his arms around you, pulling you even closer to him so that he could be your support. He was the last person you wanted to show signs of weakness too, but at the same time, the only person you’d want comforting you.

“I’m just... I don’t know. Sad,” you tried speaking through your sobs, your words muffled against his clothing.

“Hey, talk to me, I’m here,” he coaxed soothingly, hands slowly rubbing circles on your back. You continued to cry, but brought your face away from his shoulder to look at him, nodding slightly.

So you told him everything. Maybe it was the whiskey still in your system that made you braver, but you told him about every dark, hollow feeling that was lurking in your chest. Every worry that you had, every insecurity. Every problem. Everything.

And he sat there and listened to every single word.

After you finished rambling — what felt like two hours later — he pulled you into the tightest hug you had ever felt.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled against your hair, “I had no idea you felt that way. I’m the worst friend. I didn’t even notice you were at your low. I’m so sorry, I was selfish.” He rubbed your back once more, “I’m sorry you felt alone but you’re not. I’m here. I’m always here for you. To listen, to vent, to help, to give advice, to reassure. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

“Thanks, Draco,” you muttered, letting out a deep sigh now that a massive weight felt lifted off your shoulders. Your tears had slowed down, but Draco didn’t pull away from the embrace.

“Always here,” he repeated, “Always here.”

Eventually, you pulled away to be able to breathe. His hug was practically bone crushing. Comforting, but your ribs were hurting.

Your confession sobered you up, and you gazed into his eyes to thank him for everything.

“You’re really beautiful, you know?” he asked softly, his hand making its way up and resting against your cheek, “It’s a bad time, I know but you really are.”

All the coldness left your body and was replaced by warmth. Your cheeks turned pink and you felt your insides bubble in joy.

“T-Thanks,” you grinned, trying to hide the creeping redness on your face, “You’re pretty cute too.”

“I know,” he smirked, shrugging. You giggled, whacking his arm softly, “I’m just joking. I appreciate it, Y/N.”

He leaned closer to you once more and pressed a delicate kiss on your forehead. Most people had never known Draco Malfoy to be soft or delicate in any way, but that was the only side of him you really knew. To you, he was a totally different person than everyone else believed.

“Also a bad time, I don’t want to take advantage of you or anything, but do you — uh — wanna go to Hogsmeade with me? Next weekend?” he asked hopefully, his hand pulling away from you.

You couldn’t fight the smile that rose to your mouth. For months you had imagined what it would be like to go on a date with him, and here he was. Finally asking you.

“Of course,” you grinned like an idiot, biting your lip to stop yourself looking crazy.

“Good,” he nodded his head, a smile on his face as well, “Good, good.”

“Should we head back to the common room?” you asked, lacing your fingers with his. He nodded, still smiling at you, and the two of you started walking slowly back down to the dungeons. The cold air no longer really a problem as his hand was still linked with yours, the happy warmth replacing every bad feeling you had felt that night. You felt as if now that Draco was on your side, everything would end up being so much better, so much easier to deal with.

As the two of you walked into the common room, both still smiling with your hands locked, a squeal startled you both.

Pansy, unaware of the situation you had both just been through, looked down at your intertwined hands with a massive grin.

“Finally!”

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fics #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy one shots #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy reader insert

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softer-ua · 3 years

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in regards to what you pointed out a few posts ago, ngl one of my least favorite fandom things is when they make Kaminari the Har Har Stupid Joking ADHD Bi Playboy Who Is Never Serious Trope. like, he's very smart, 'worst in ___ area of a UA course' is very impressive and I don't remember if it even said that or just that he was studying with some other students, worried about his grades overall, calls himself stupid with implied insecurities about it, and didn't think he was very smart compared to the other people in the course. quirk overuse makes him loopy, incoherent, and think everything's funny. and yeah, he's a bit of a flirt and made a few perverted comments and actions that he clearly didn't think through that well. I'm pretty sure he's not ever stated to be bi in the manga because it was written by a coward, so I think people should think more about why they're associating and pairing together the idea of "hot flirty playboy who if legally able would sleep with everyone he meets" with emphasis or joke in the captions of whatever the content is on him being bi. I don't think this is inherently bad, even put together, but the execution feels kind of :/ and shallow. and I mainly just wish they'd pause to consider if there's any reason (subconscious or intentional) why one of those makes them think about the other, and at the very least lean back to see if they're blatantly making those traits centric around each other and tweak how they're showing them a little. Part of this is also because it's basically his fanon sexuality, but then they stick together "oh he's bi and everyone thinks that" and "he's made flirty or perverted comments and actions in canon at some point" and then mentally exaggerate and have this Canon Image of him as *waves hand at above* and I don't think that's happening consciously in most cases but. again. Cookiecutter Bi Party Playboy Who's Made a Date Offer to Everyone In The Building. not a flirty Person or a Playboy who is bi and flirts with more than one genders

I myself headcanon him as adhd and while the exact sexuality depends on my mood I think of/have him as bi in a lot of my content, but it's the same thing with why non adhd people see how he acts and label "adhd!" Especially about comprehension speed and derpy acting and intelligence and attention span jokes/tropes. Again, not bad in and of itself, but the specific parts of his behavior that make them think he's adhd, or that they start making jokes about or Ha Ha ADHD'ing, or that they think is why we project ADHD on him, (which they aren't necessarily wrong about, but like right in a really disrespectful look at how funny this is oh look squirrel way that's only funny when adhd people are doing it and it isn't all mocking like that) when they see other people calling him adhd, are the wrong ones, I think, and it shows in their characterization of him.

I'm not saying that any of those traits are bad in a character, but as a queer adhd girl with very high annual test scores and Gifted Kid Intelligence but extremely poor grades, focus, and brain damage (admittedly nothing like his, it was a longterm passive thing that mainly just made me have a Lot of Really Bad headaches, and closest thing it did to me was make me sluggish and emotional on bad days and also techincally have the potential kill my language bit if left untreated or the surgery messed up, which it didn't, and it won't be a problem again. but even after explaining that it wasn't cancer or any sort of tumor, and after seeing it do very little at all to affect my behavior outside of irritability and performance, because y'know, constant migraines, gone after the surgery but this was before that, Certain People I Was Vaguely Kind Of Acquaintances With started to treat my like I was a fragile glass thing going to to drop dead and revive myself speaking like a comic relief cartoon crazy person at any moment which was. patronizing.) I've since had surgery for, the way the fandom combines them into stereotypes and portrays them really just rubs me the wrong way- "Flirty Bi(tm) Playboy" "Har Har ADHD Can't Focus Or Get Things After They're Explained To Him, He's Still Confused And An Idiot" "Stupid Person With Brain Damage Who Can't Take Care Of Or Think For Themself And Acts Stupid And Funny For People To Laugh At" which tbh is super ableist even and especially when people irl do fit that description, and also reminds me of the Autistic Person Freaking Out And Being Dramatic sense of humor. And I know it's not helped by canon, because it done for comic relief and to limit his powers, but explored more I think it as a limitation could have been used way more interestingly than canon did and also call me biased but that quirk induced brain frying sounds at least as concerning as Izuku's quirk's backlash.

And it's a shame!! Because he's so much more interesting than that! Instead, the fandom gives me the Cookicutter Funny Bi ADHD Flirt Who's An Idiot and I am sad about it.

tbh it reminds me of what happened to percy jackson, esp with the ADHD Idiot Trope thing. which sucks because apparently it originated in the author making up stories around characters like his adhd and dyslexic kid inspired by Greek myths to tell him after running out of actual myths because it was his special interest and he wanted more. and then the series got kind of all over the place and the fandom processed that the adhd and dyslexic main character who does dumb things sometimes but is very combat smart and great at strategizing and leading gets bad grades and has trouble focusing and has, y'know, adhd, and made him the ADHD Idiot and erased his Gifted Kid girl friend's traits and ADHD and dyslexia into No Nonsense Calls Him an Idiot And Thinks He's Stupid And Has To Tell Him What To Do And Manage His Life For Him and honestly that just kind of sucks and it reminds me of what happened to fandom Kaminari. and now that I think of it people have jirou like that around him a lot too.

im fine with you answering this publicly if you want or have something to add but probably tag as ableism and maybe a biphobia mention content warning for people who don't have the energy to deal with thinking about those kinds of negative things rn because I kind of Went Off About It

I love this! Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and experiences 💚(and double thank you for tag suggestions)💚

I couldn’t agree more that a lot of fandom has messed up Kami’s character, which is why I’ve kinda been posting more about him cause he’s just stuck in my head.

I think a lot of fandoms have trouble with characters like this, people have a hard time with duality in characters and fast/fun posts are easier to make if you flatten a character down.

The did it to Kami, they did it to Percy, they did it to Ron Weasley, they do it to Thor, the list goes on. If being the Smart One ™️ isn’t your thing and you can be goofy than you get pigeonholed into the idiot trope.

I feel for Kami a lot(probably because I have adhd/brain damage too)

It sucks when you’re smart but it’s not the traditional, measurable kind of smart(even if by national comparison Kami technically is).

I got terrible grades growing up, and I pretty much got the absolute lowest gpa you can get and still graduate. But absolutely no one would have known if I didn’t tell them, because I’m not dumb.

(It’s okay if you are “dumb”, I love me a head empty just vibes friend. You’re 100% valid, stil worthy of joining discussions, and should be listened to and taken seriously. This just isn’t about that tho)

I joke sometimes that I’m clever and witty but not smart, because that’s exactly what it feels like.

I have lots of thoughts and ideas that I think I articulate pretty well, I am excellent at finding the humor in things and expressing it in a way that’s funny to others too, and there is almost zero problems I can’t find a work around. And the people in my life love it, and they love to use it.

But eventually everyone in my life finds out that I’m not smart. They see the way I have to pause to Google how to calculate a tip, that I don’t know the name of all 50 states or even where to find them on a map, or I legitimately just can not spell (if you ever see a post where it looks like I used a weird word choice it’s probably because I tried 4 times and autocorrect+Google couldn’t help me and voice to text wasn’t an option)

No one ever questions my intelligence until they find out about my adhd and/or catch me struggling with it. After the mask comes off it’s like they can’t even hear me anymore, nothing I say could be true or matter because I’m now just the goofy accident prone spacy girl. My family literally calls me Spacy

And ya know what sometimes I just let people think that because it’s easier, it’s easier than explaining that I’m dyslexic and that I didn’t have a single geography/history clas until 10th grade and shocker the capital of Iowa doesn’t come up much by then. And it’s easier for me to laugh off losing my keys again than dwell on the fact that sometimes it feels like I’m losing my marbles.

And I wouldn’t be at all surprised if after this post I get a lot more “fact checkers” and push back on anything else I post.(not talking about people who want to genuinely engage,y’all are always welcome, I’m talking those people who don’t wanna look it up themselves but no longer trust me to know what I’m talking about)

Kami is a sweet brilliant boy. He’s in a nationally high ranking school, he loves the weather channel, he’s careful about his quirk that could easily hurt his friends in combat, he has a very high emotional intelligence level, he wears dorky shirts with electricity puns on them, and he pays attention to his friends and remembers a lot of little things about them.

He wants to be a hero and he takes that seriously, and the series has tried time and time again to tell y’all that smiling and laughter are an important part of that. Kami excels at this part! So what if his history grades don’t rival the top of the class, the top 5 students would struggle hard to do what Kami does.

Iida can’t relax, Momos rather shy, Todo struggles with social cues, Midoriya is canonically not funny, and jfc where to even begin with Katsuki. I’m certain they’ll all grow up to be excellent heros in their own right, but none of them are going to bring the level of joy and camaraderie that Denki can. You can’t test that into someone.

Kami also just notices people differently and has any easy way of joining in with them, he doesn’t struggle approaching Katsuki or Shinso. Sure he doesn’t hit the the nail on the head the same way Deku does but he’s the only one who has the guts and skills to try. Also he’s not that kinda friend, he’s not looking to a save these guys but pal around with them

I think Kami 100% realizes what a special case and tough nut to crack Bakugo is, I don’t think he’s just careless or too dumb realize his life’s at stake or whatever.

I think he’s purposely testing Bakugos boundaries all while trying to not be a threat to Katsukis actual ego and calling Bakugo out when he needs it in a way that not to serious. Kami knows how to be just goofy enough that he’s approachable. He’s also keyed in that the way to Bakugo is through Deku, meanwhile everyone else is stuck believing the opposite.

Kami also realized how important music is to Jiro and saw an opportunity to let her display her skills and combin the two worlds she lives, and he wasn’t afraid to get some back lash from her for it.

Like Deku Kami isn’t afraid to be uncomfortable. You really can’t teach that level of social ease, you can teach the posture and feed people a couple of lines but it’ll never hit the same. Funny approachable people have spent a lifetime learning the craft, usually out of necessity.

It’s actually what gives me the biggest adhd vibes from him, because adhd is (speculated to be) a dopamine deficiency disorder. People with adhd are constantly trying to raise their dopamine levels, and that means looking for praise and reward and nothing makes the human brain light up faster than postative human connections.

Adhd children struggle a lot with connecting with peers and often find making people laugh a fast way into people’s circles and makes it more likely people will overlook being interrupted or spaced out on.

Also adhd people are pretty much forced by their own brain structures to be genuine in all they do, low dopamine levels make it very hard to do things you don’t enjoy because there no promise of dopamine from the activity and you don’t have enough to spare, plus impulsiveness makes it really hard to not show when you do or don’t enjoy something.

I agree that Kami is also painted as overly perverted at times, he’s a little flirty but in a fun casual way but it’s not the foundation of his personality and it’s really mellowed out over the course of the series.

And while I subscribe to the bi hc from his interactions with Jiro and Shinso, we should all be very mindful that we don’t lump these characteristics together. The are separate facets of his personality that are not dependent on each other in anyway.

Kami deserves all the respect and love, I can’t wait to see our electric king again 🖤⚡️🖤

#tw ableism #ableism #tw biphobia #biphobia #softy answers #I have a sorta sad one shot about Kami and his quirks effects #should i post it?

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saint-patrice · 4 years

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thank you @kureally!💛

pretty surprised that this isn’t one i’ve done already, but the day has come and i would invite you all to join me in delving into some photos of the canadian hockey spectacle known as travis konecny!

see here for other posts like this one! i am also taking requests for ‘em :)

this photo is a good one to start with, as it provides the essential information you need to understand travis konecny as a person. apparently his brother calls him a “city slicker,” but this is him in his true form - in camo, with fishing equipment and associated fish, looking objectively pretty fucking bad. the comment is from his teammate and certified best bud nolan patrick, who we will discuss more later. additionally, his instagram account no longer exists because he is diametrically opposed to having a social media presence, and throws his phone in an ontario lake for 4 months every offseason. presumably.

in addition to all of that, he is pretty fucking good at hockey. and yes, this is the same person as above, this time looking rather nice and representing the philadelphia flyers at this year’s all star game

(via @jakeoettinger) from when he broke his tooth and we all were collectively screaming about it in our own unique ways until he got it fixed. this was right before the asg, and i remember the visceral fear that he might not do anything about it and we’d have to watch him do all the media stuff looking like a battle-scarred little rat. his fucking face, man

here he is, doing his very best impression of a cardboard cutout of himself. if you have any brain cells to spare, please send them philly-ward. this man is in dire need.

this is teeks with aforementioned Best Bud Nolan Patrick. this is a real photo of them at a real wedding (claude giroux’s, not their own), posted on nolan patrick’s real instagram, with the real caption “what a wedding date”. there is nothing else to be said.

although he is a great hockey player, tk has a reputation on the ice mainly for never shutting up. this is one of many instances of teeks running his little rodent mouth at the opposing team, and usually what he says makes little to no sense but we love to hear it anyway. the video of this is so delightful, i’d recommend giving it a watch

hockey talent must be inherent to the genome, as teeks is the second cousin of bo horvat (captain of the vancouver canucks). they are generally pretty different people but they look like two separate pieces of trash from the same dumpster here so… who’s to know?

(via @manybumblebees) travis’ draft report listed him at 5′10, and he has continued to be recorded as such throughout his career. however, as just about anyone with working eyesight will tell you, this is absolute fucking horseshit. oskar lindblom, with whom he is cellying here, is 6′1 for comparison. if that looks like a 3 inch height difference to you, i don’t know what to say

5′10 or not, he is - by his own admission - a pretty small guy, so you think he’d generally try to avoid physical altercations, or mess with people his own size. on the contrary! here he is, having the time of his life messing with 6′3, 215lb mikhail sergachev (tk listed at 175lb). fuck it, ragdoll mode engaged.

i wasn’t kidding about the brain cells - how do you lose your shoes on a plane!!!

(via @gabelandeskog) travis is the flyers’ “hockey is for everyone” ambassador this year, and this is him with pride tape on his stick for YCP warmies, which is like, real nice

can rats swim???

(via @chirpedtooth) another thing of note is that he is like…. too small for nhl equipment apparently?? and so he tapes his sleeves with stupid fucking orange tape to make sure they don’t get in the way of his little raccoon appendages. whatever works, man

look at this fancy little child in his pea coat facing some adverse weather conditions!!! pre-2016 travis konecny is never not funny

(via @callejarnkrok) despite his general shenanigans and tomfoolery, travis is perhaps a nice canadian boy at heart. here he is checking on nolan, who has been sidelined with a migraine disorder this season, at the team’s picture day. the more i think about it, the more this is unbearably fucking tender, actually. going to go lie down in a dark room about it. see y’all in a bit

this is his (nice? horrid? it’s up to you) little duck tattoo on his bicep. just thought this was important to include

this footage plagues my entire fucking existence. i measure my time in Before I First Witnessed This and After I First Witnessed This. it’s the last thing i think about at night and the first thing i think about every morning. and in between times, it frequently appears in my dreams. i cannot accurately verbalise how much i hate this

(via @for-that-cotton-candy) just gently skating up to your pal,, hip-checking your bud to let him know that you’re there because he can only see you when he’s looking down,,,, just letting him know that you’re there and you love him a whole lot,,,,,,,, that’s hockey, baby

some would describe his face as “highly expressive” or “easy to read,” but i personally think “malleable” might be more appropriate. here he is 😛✌🏻ing with teammates travis sanheim and shane gostisbehere

(via @phillymyers) is now a good time to mention that this little untoasted piece of bread didn’t know how to blow a kiss?

mandatory puppy photo!

(via @chirpedtooth) literally no idea what the fuck is going on here, all i know is that he is wearing a pink scrunchie on his wrist, and that it is an awful lot to deal with

and that, my friends, is a brief introduction to travis konecny! i hope you enjoyed this in one way or another, and if you are currently thinking “i don’t get why everyone likes him” - just give it 3 weeks of mild to moderate exposure to tk content. you’ll see.

#travis konecny #philadelphia flyers #konecny #flyers #flyers photo compilations #**#100 #links either go to news articles or videos on youtube or the nhl site #although the one abt the wedding photo goes to patty's ig post #please lmk if there's anything wrong w this bc i am hell for making mistakes in these and not noticing #thank you luna!!!#oh yea the uncredited gif is my own btw

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rockhoochie · 4 years

Text

Title: Anything and Everything

Link: On AO3

Square Filled: Tongue Fucking

Pairing: Dean Winchester/YN

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Fingering, Oral Sex (M/F), Tongue Fucking, Squirting, Unprotected Sex (seriously, just be safe), Marijuana, mention of prescription narcotic.

WC: 8,290

Created For @spnkinkbingo

A/N: Well...this escalated quickly! The story is told in alternating POV between Dean and Reader - Reader’s is regular text, Dean’s is italicized. I debated on splitting this into parts due to the word length, but...well, I’m impatient, and I’m really excited to share this with all of you! Plus, I think it flows better if it’s read all in one sitting 😉

This fic is dedicated to @fangirlxwritesx67 - remember that drabble prompt you sent me like, two months ago, that was Dean and reader laying on a comfortable floor, listening to music, and he starts playing with her hair, and they have a first kiss? Well, here’s your drabble 😄 Thank you for the inspiration!

And thank you everyone for reading! Drop me a line, let me know what you think - I love hearing from you ❤ ~Sarah

(’Lay Lady Lay’ music and lyrics © Bob Dylan, 1969)

I set a kettle on the stove to boil.

Thank god Donna has this place, and thank god that we were so close. We’ve been here for days now, nursing our wounds: Sam had a bruised rib and a nasty gash on his torso. Dean had a concussion and a dislocated shoulder. I'd been flung against a wall - I don’t remember much because I'd been knocked out hard, unconscious for hours - but by some miracle managed to come out of it with only a few ugly bruises and a migraine. Not our worst injuries by a longshot, but we’d figured since we had a home base, we may as well take advantage of it. We’d packed up yesterday, planning on heading out this morning, but an incoming snowstorm kept us from venturing out - it was half a day's drive, and even Dean couldn’t deny that the Impala doesn’t handle best on icy roads.

I like it here. It’s so quiet. And dark. No sirens or traffic, no various and questionable motel noises. No glare of city lights marring the night sky. The only light outside is coming from the moon, the only sounds are the ones I make. I look out the window, wondering when the storm will move in - the moon is full, its brightness gleaming off acres of driven snow that glints and glimmers against an indigo sky. Normally, a stillness like this is a warning, a silence this pure a screaming harbinger - but I don’t feel any threat here. No forebodings, no gut-nettling intuitions.

It’s peaceful. I’m peaceful. If I ever leave this life behind me, if I’m lucky enough to dodge all the bullets and claws and teeth and blades, I’ll settle somewhere up here, find a small house on a lake that’s tucked away from the rest of the world. He’d love that. And we could just be, live out our days and years together, work stupid pedestrian jobs to pay stupid everyday bills. I’ll plant a garden and he can restore classic cars while we raise a family and just...live...

The kettle sings and hisses, and outside, snow begins to fall in fat, feathery clusters. I pour the boiling water into a handmade, slightly lopsided clay mug that proudly proclaims “I Love Auntie Donna” in a childish script, dip and drown my tea bag, and shuffle back to my spot in the living room - my little nest in a gorgeous, hand-crafted rocking chair next to the fireplace. Donna told me her grandfather had made it, and every time I look at it, it astounds me that another human being created something so beautiful with his bare hands. Every nitch, nock, and spindle carefully considered and meticulously carved. Some of the stain has faded, and patches of lacquer have dulled, but that only adds to its beauty - you can tell this chair was loved.

The fire I’d built earlier is down to embers. I sit and stare into the blazing coals, sipping chamomile and scrying for answers to questions I don’t know. The room is warm, but I need something over my shoulders, need the weight of something wrapped around me. There’s a flannel draped over the back of the rocking chair...one of Dean’s flannels. And it’s my favorite of his, the dark red one that brings out his freckles and the deep jade of his eyes. I take it and slip my arms through the sleeves. It smells like him...like whiskey and wintergreen, leather and cotton, copper and cordite...

I catch myself before I start to fall too far. I need to pack up these thoughts and put them away where they belong before they start making me hopeful again.

I used to let myself get lost in them, let myself wander through giddy daydreams and float among sultry fantasies...I’d close my eyes at night and pretend Dean was by my side, just an arms reach away. I’d imagine it was his fingers pumping inside of me instead of mine, hear his voice in my head as I made myself come. Or I’d simply think about spending a day with him - walking through a park in autumn, stargazing on a summer night, cuddling and kissing on a rainy spring day. But after a while, when I’d accidentally found myself in love with him, I’d put all those dreams on the shelf; I'd only take them down when I was at my lowest and loneliest, grasping for a reason to keep going. There were a few times I’d thought about telling him, making a move...but Dean Winchester doesn’t need another complication. None of us do.

~*~

The shitty thing about being used to four hours of sleep is that when I actually get the chance for more, my brain doesn’t get on board. I came up here a couple of hours ago and I can’t seem to keep my eyes closed. Just keep staring at the ceiling and thinking about things I shouldn’t...

I love this place. It’s cold outside and the wind’s howlin’, but it’s damn cozy in here. If Hell ever gets a blast of Minnesota weather - and I can pack it in, leave the life - I’m getting a place like this. Hell, I’d build it myself, make it just the way we want it. We could move out here, where it’s almost backcountry, leave all the bad times behind us. It’s gonna be on a lake though - I’ll get a boat and go fishing all the time, teach our kids all the tricks to hooking the big ones...

Jesus, knock it off, Winchester. Like she’d let you screw up her life more than you already have.

YN's moving around downstairs. I should see what she’s up to, see if she’s feelin’ okay or wants any company...nah, I should just leave her alone. She got her bell rung bad the other day and it scared the shit outta me...I kinda lost it and yelled at her like a total asshole. I don’t get why I do that. Gun to my head, I guess it’s cause it seems simpler that way - rather piss her off and keep her from getting too close, instead of admitting out loud how I feel about her and watch her run for the hills.

She was in and out of it for almost two days, and I’d stayed with her as much as I could, at least till Sam would bark at me to eat or sleep. She’d used herself as bait - again- and I fucking hate it when she puts herself in the line of fire like that. I can’t stand it when she gets hurt, and this last time was...pretty bad. But she’s stubborn as hell, can’t be talked out of anything she’s already set her mind to. Actually thought she was gonna punch me when I got in her face, but I escaped with only a “fuck off, Dean”.

And I suppose those are some of the reasons my dumb ass went and fell ass over tea kettle for her - her grit and her style, the way she can dish it as good she takes it, how she handles either a gun or a blade with this almost unnatural grace... one day, I watched her make salt rounds for an hour and it was one of the most spectacular things I’d ever seen - she was in this total zone, her forehead creased in concentration, and lips mouthing the words to a song I can't hear, growling out the cutest “fuck” or “son of a bitch” if she messed up.

She’s the best part of my day - whether it’s seein’ her all cranky and bleary-eyed in the morning, passed out over a pile of books in the library, or bent over a pool table while she hustles townies - I can’t think of a better sight. And her laugh is goddamn music to ears. Her eyes, her smile...her anything and everything keeps me going. I can be two seconds away from checkin’ out, but one look at her reminds me that it's all worth it, worth every drop of blood, sweat, and tears.

Christ, just thinking about her like this is making my dick twitch. Doesn’t help that she laid in this bed the last few days because I can still smell her. Her perfume or soap or whatever she uses is fucking delicious, a mix of spice and spring flowers and brown sugar that sticks to her skin and practically makes my mouth water, makes me wanna taste her…

Fuck, now I’m hard. I think about jerking off for a minute, but instead I think about that time Cas showed up in my car naked and covered with bees and swing my legs off the bed. No sense in just layin’ here, thinkin’ about things that’ll never happen. I grab my duffel and pull out my flask (not much left in there, maybe two or three shots) and some clothes. Gonna check out the room down the hall that’s got one of those old school record players. Maybe some good tunes will calm me down, get my mind off things. Off of her. I turn to leave but then I remember- there’s a little something in my bag I’ve been hangin' on to. I dig through all my crap and find it in the inside pocket. Awesome. Screw consciousness, I’m gettin’ high.

~*~

I hear footfalls against the ceiling - one of them’s awake. It could be Sam, but I know it’s Dean - I know his stride, his tread. And I also know Sam conceded to the pain and downed an extra dose of Percocet, so he’s all but dead to the world for the next six hours.

We all have problems sleeping, each have our lion’s share of blood-and- gore-laden nightmares, but Dean’s always seem worse. They take a bigger toll on him. He wakes up screaming more often, drenched in a cold sweat with his sheets flung from the bed. Sometimes I hear him shouting in the middle of the night and it breaks my fucking heart.

Maybe I’ll go see if he’s alright, if there’s anything I can do for him... I hope he’s not still pissed at me for what happened on the hunt. Sam told me it was just because I’d scared him, because he cares about me, that it’s just easier for Dean to blow up instead of break down. But dammit I wish he’d open up, just a little. There were a couple of nights he and I had spent just hanging out together, nights where whiskey was flowing and secrets were shared...but right when it seemed like he was going to let me in on what was really going on in his head, he’d stopped himself, drained his glass, and said goodnight.

I know what he’s been through. Or rather, I know of what he's been through. It would be sacrilege for me to even try to begin to empathize. I know about things he’s done, his devils and deeds that are unforgivable in most circles but necessary in ours.

Dean is a good man. Everything he’s done has been a labor of love, a sacrifice. I know he doubts himself constantly and I know he hurts, vehemently and deeply. But if he’d just let me in, if I could love him the way he deserves, I’d do anything and everything I could to take all that pain and somehow dull it. Sometimes I can actually get a smile out of him and it’s one of the most marvelous things I’ve ever seen - when the corners of his green eyes crinkle and his teeth peek out from behind those ridiculously perfect lips...god, it’s beautiful. He is beautiful, inside and out and I wish he could see that.

Now I’m wide awake. My tea’s gone cold, and I’ve spent too much time wallowing in these thoughts that shouldn’t be wallowed in, and I’m not quite sure what to do with myself. I glance out a window and watch the now steadily falling snow, listen to the wind whip and whistle through the frigid night air. Sitting here in the dark alone with all of these thoughts has become too lonely. There’s a room upstairs, a little den with a couple of chairs and one of those huge console record players...I’ll grab that book I’ve been meaning to read and hang out in there, let some music fill the quiet and the story busy my brain.

I take my mug to the kitchen, place it in the sink, and pull Dean’s flannel around me tighter. Hopefully, he won’t mind if I borrow it for the night. This way, I can be close to him without ruining things.

Music echoes down the staircase and I recognize the tune as I get closer to its source. Bob Dylan. Nashville Skyline, I think. Dim, golden light beckons me to follow and leads me to a doorway. I look down and find him lying on the floor, with his ankles crossed, and one arm bent behind his head, blowing a plume of smoke toward the ceiling.

“Hey,” I whisper, and he turns his face toward me, looking up at me with mellow eyes and an easygoing smile.

“Hey yourself. Can’t sleep?”

I shake my head. “Thought I’d come in here and check out Donna’s music collection. But I see you had the same idea, so -”

“So? Come on in, stay awhile.” He pats the floor beside him, then holds up the joint fastened between his fingers. “It’d be a lot cooler if you did.”

I should really go, leave him to his own devices, avoid torturing myself. But before reason has any chance to intervene, I find myself lying next to him. He’s more of a drug to me than the smoke I’m sucking through my lips. I want to stay away, I should stay away, but I can’t fucking help myself. So like a good little junkie I give in, tell myself this is no big deal, that I can go back to not thinking about him tomorrow.

~*~

I’m so glad she decided to stay.

I don’t know if it’s the weed or the cold, dark night or what it is, but when I saw her standing there, all I wanted was to just have her near me. Even if all I get to do is hear her voice or just feel her presence next to me...well, I’ll take it. It’s not like this anything new, we’ve hung out like this plenty of times...though it’s times like this when I get so comfortable around her, that I really gotta reign it in and make sure I keep my damn mouth shut. And it never seems to get easier - like right now. She’s humming along to the music, making up her own words here and there and playing air guitar and it’s friggin’ adorable. She really is one in a million and if things were different, I’d hold on to her and never let go.

Somethin’ Sam said a while back pops into my head - somethin’ about finding someone who knows the life - and for a second I think maybe things don’t need to be different. Maybe we could make it work. But then I remember I’m toxic. Even for a hunter I drink too much, have too many fucked up thoughts, done way too many fucked up things. No, she deserves someone good, someone better than me. I can’t even believe she’s stuck around for this long. Sometimes I just look at her and wanna scream, “run”, before she gets hurt. I’ve accepted that I’ll never get the happily ever after but she shouldn’t. She can still get out, have a real life, meet someone who’ll give her everything and make her happy. Never in my life will I be able to give that to anyone - it just ain’t in the cards for me.

Then she looks at me, passes me the joint with this sweet smile, and all those thoughts just fade away. And I wonder - like I wonder almost every night - how her lips would feel against mine.

Sam keeps tellin’ me that I’m an idiot, that she really likes me, that I should go for it. And for a minute, I actually think about it, cause the way she’s lookin’ at me right now is downright incredible - she actually looks happy to be here, with me.

Is she?

Truth is I'm selfish. And a bit of a coward. I'm too afraid to love anyone because I'm too afraid to lose them. Everyone I've ever lost took a piece of me with them and I ain't got much left. If anything ever happened to YN, I’d be done. She’d take the last of me.

I’m feelin’ a little goofy. Not stoned or anything, but definitely running out of fucks to give. Then I glance at her and notice she’s wiggling out of her button-down.. .my button-down. She rolls it up, tucks it beneath her head, and stretches back out on the floor. Her tank top is creeping up over her stomach a little bit, and it’s stretched tight over her tits and she’s got nothin’ on underneath…

I swallow hard and bite down on my lip cause I’m this close to just flat-out telling her I love her.

~*~

Part of me wants to tell Donna she desperately needs to redecorate this room...but the other, the part of me that's stretched out on the floor, listening to classic 33s and getting high with Dean, is perfectly content with the old-school kitsch. The shag carpeting we’re laying on is surprisingly comfortable; The color (what is this, ocher? Chartreuse?) - shouldn’t be allowed to exist, but the long polyester threads sprawling beneath us are soothing in a way. The light is low, flickering from two vintage oil lamps that stand on each end of the console, and casts shadows beneath its warm glow.

Dean looks like he’s about to say something, but the last song has ended and skipped into a static scratch. He hoists himself up to flip the record, and I perch on my elbows and just...admire him. He’s different here. I’ve seen him lounge around the bunker during downtime but tonight he actually seems powered-down, carefree. There's something almost magical about what the calm does to him, how it lifts the weight he carries. His shoulders are relaxed, his movements languid, unhurried and uncalculated, eyes bright and serene. And he looks so fucking good, wearing a well-worn and well-fitting Zeppelin t-shirt that he must've had since before he’d built up his muscle. Softened and faded jeans cover his bowed legs and hang low on his hips, and I don’t think he’s got anything on underneath because I get a glimpse at the cut of his abs and...

I wish I could tell him how amazing he is, how much he makes me smile, how much I love him; I wish I could show him, hold him, kiss him and just love him with everything I have...

The music starts back up and oh my god… he’s dancing. It’s really more of a slow-motion Elvis maneuver, but it’s the closest thing to dancing I’ve ever seen Dean do. Every tick of his hips pulls the fabric of his jeans perfectly across his ass, and I shouldn't be thinking about him this way but he’s just so mesmerizing…

And then he turns and faces me with his best impression of his best Bob Dylan.

Lay lady lay,

Lay across my big brass bed

Lay lady lay,

Lay across my big brass bed...

I throw my head back and laugh, not because he’s being ridiculous, but because he’s being so goddamn perfect. And the joy I thought I’d lost the day I cocked my first shotgun is bubbling up and making me giddy. Or it’s him. Or it could just be the pot. This is a side of him that no one gets to see, not even his brother. I can give him this, a place to let go of it all and just be Dean Winchester for a little while. He’s easy here, content, and he actually seems happy that I decided to stay.

Is he?

He claims his spot beside me again, settling in just a little closer. He's still singing to me and I'm still giggling…

Whatever colors you have in your mind

I show them to you and you see them shine

Lay lady lay

Lay across my big brass bed

Somehow his hand found mine, and he's tracing my knuckles with one calloused fingertip. I take it in mine and glance down at the connection, marveling at how small my hand is in his but how perfectly it fits. His hand is so gentle, warm and solid...it’s hard to believe how often his palm has bled, how many triggers his fingers have pulled, how many bones his fist has shattered.

He shifts, rolls to his side, and gazes down at me while he keeps up his serenade.

Stay lady stay

Stay with your man a while

Until the break of day

Let me see you make him smile

I grin as he brushes my hair from my face, tucks a few strands behind my ear, winds a section around his fingers. Then I see something in his face that’s never been there before - a shade of color reflecting from his eyes that's deep and rich and vibrant…

His clothes are dirty but his, his hands are clean

And you are the best thing that he's ever seen

Stay lady stay

Stay with your man a while

The way he's muttering the lyrics...it’s so sincere, like he means every single word. The warmth of his body is just out of my reach, and the low timbre of his voice begins to resonate through my veins, nestling into a locked corner of my soul.

Why wait any longer for the world to begin

You can have your cake and eat it too

Why wait any longer for the one you love

When he's standing in front of you

He’s still playing with my hair, pushing any stray strands from my face…my eyes flutter closed and his touch becomes something warmer, softer. Delicate, intentional kisses pepper my cheekbones, my temples, my forehead...

Lay lady lay

Lay across my big brass bed

Stay lady stay

Stay while the night is still ahead

I feel his thumb and forefinger catch and tilt my chin, and I open my eyes. He’s so close now, close enough that if I rolled on my side I’d roll into him, that if I lifted my head just an inch...

I long to see you in the morning light

I long to reach for you in the night

Stay lady stay

Stay while the night is still ahead

The silent formation of the last few lyrics are the first thing I feel and then his lips are fully on mine, barely grasped between his and I've never felt something so tender and genuine carry itself with so much force. He's cradling my cheek and his kiss feels tentative, uncertain - but at the same time teeming with need, as though he’s waiting for my approval while praying with everything he’s got that I’ll grant it. So I lean into him, slide my fingers along the short hairs on the back of his neck, and pull him closer.

~*~

Maybe it was the weed, the music, the way the light reflected off her… whatever it was, it just took over. She looked too soft and too damn perfect, layin’ there and smiling that smile. And I thought about the other day when she was lying unconscious on that blood-stained, concrete floor, and the way my guts twisted at the thought of losing her…

I just couldn’t do it anymore.

I couldn't go one more night without telling her exactly how much she means to me. And it was a cheesy way to do it, singing to her like that, but Bob knew all the right things to say.

I actually can't even believe she's kissing me right now, that she pulled me close and wrapped her arms around me. Part of me thinks she's nuts - she's gotta know I got nothing to offer her, that she deserves so much better- better than me, better than this life. I can’t promise her anything - can’t promise a future or comfort... but if she lets me, I can promise to love her, to kiss her with everything I’ve got every chance I get, to hold her close and protect her... even if it’s just for tonight.

She makes a little sound and arches her body into mine. I don’t know how far this is gonna go, but I’ll take my time getting there. This may just be a fluke, a one-time thing. Or maybe it’s not, maybe I’m the luckiest bastard on the fucking planet...either way, I want to savor every second.

I keep the kisses slow, open-mouthed and gentle. But then I feel her tongue slide along my lower lip and I can’t help but slip mine against hers. This feels so good, just kissing her like this, tasting her and feeling her beneath me. She’s running her fingers through my hair, rolling her hips every now and then, sliding her hand down my side and across my back. I kiss her harder, deeper. She’s moving more, breathing faster, making these quiet little whimpers. I break away and look at her, smoothing some of her hair away from her beautiful face. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are half-closed and right at this moment she could ask me to shoot the moon and I’d kill it dead.

Her hand brushes my cheek and she pushes into me, silently begging me to keep going.

“You sure?” I whisper in her ear, kissing the space just behind it.

She nods and mutters “please,” and I move my lips down her neck. Her body trembles when I land on the spot where her neck curves into her shoulder - I give her skin there a little nip and she gasps... fuck, I need to hear that sound over and over. I’m gonna map her entire body, figure out just the right way to touch her. Run my hands over every point, plane and curve, find every spot that makes her moan and quiver and sigh. I wanna drown, lose myself in her. I want her to know that I know how special she is, that I get how lucky I am to be with her tonight, that I understand what she’s giving me. I kneel between her legs, take hold of her wrists, and slowly push her arms above her head.

I need to see and feel and taste every single inch of her and I’m not gonna be quick about it.

~*~

First kisses are usually awkward. Heads bump, teeth collide, hands float and fumble while they try to find a comfortable place to land.

So I don’t know if it’s dumb luck, or just that I’ve practiced this so many times in my mind, but we find a rhythm instantly and we fit, like we’ve known all along exactly how to kiss each other. It’s so perfect that I almost laugh out loud, dumbfounded that I ever thought that we shouldn’t do this. Our kiss is absolute, passionate and all-consuming, and sending every neuron in my brain firing into a tailspin.

I never want to stop kissing him.

My arms are above my head and he's teasing me, softly kneading my breasts over my top, flicking at the stiff peaks of my nipples. I lower my hands to pull at our shirts, to let him know I need to feel his touch on my bare skin, but he gently curls his fingers around my wrists again and guides them back up.

"Let me," he murmurs, sliding his palm down my breastbone, over my stomach and finally beneath my top. “Just... let me…”

Right as he cups my breast and traps my nipple between his fingers he’s kissing me again, swallowing every sound he’s pulling from me. I melt into him, into his kiss, into his touch. He pushes my tank top over my head and then his lips are on my neck, my collarbone, my shoulders. My forearms and fingers are dotted with kisses, along with my hips and navel, and then he’s peeling off my leggings, never once taking his eyes off of me. I’m completely bare beneath him and he’s biting his lower lip, running his hands from each of my ankles to my calves, my knees, my thighs...he looks as though he can’t decide if he wants to ravish me or revere me.

He settles for a smooth, easy assault, touching and kissing me everywhere, lingering whenever I cry out or sigh. I’ve never felt like this, never felt so...worshipped. His fingers and lips glide along my body as though I’m a delicate thing - carefully, thoroughly, and completely. My skin feels taut, chilled and tingling, but my blood is pumping hot and fast beneath. And when his tongue swirls around my nipple, and he takes it between his teeth, I swear to god I’d come right now if he told me to.

I know I’m wet, I can feel it, hot and dripping and my cunt is clenching, clit throbbing with a deep, insistent ache that almost hurts. Dean is everywhere, exploring and marking and claiming, until I hear myself begging, pleading...I need to feel him inside of me. I need him to unravel me, to make me come undone.

~*~

The way she looks right now is so goddamn glorious, she doesn’t seem real. She’s ruddy and glowing, twisting beneath me, chanting my name and begging with kiss-swollen lips. I let my hand slide between her legs, run a finger between her folds and christ - she is so fucking wet. She lifts her knees and spreads wide open for me and I dip just the tip of one finger inside. She ruts forward and I push two fingers all the way into her tight, hot pussy and fucking hell, she feels smoother than silk. I keep it slow, steady, loving the way her eyes roll back when I flick my thumb over her clit, and the way her tongue darts between her parted lips as I twist my fingers inside her cunt, searching for that spot...

Her eyes go wide when I find it, and her neck arches back and her hands fist the carpet. She’s quietly moaning and cursing and pushing herself down, fucking herself on my fingers. I catch her scent and some animal urge takes over me; I pull my fingers from her, bring them to my mouth and suck them clean. She's like fucking nectar and I’ve never tasted anything so good and all I want is more…

I pull my shirt over my head, push my jeans off, press her thighs as far open as she can spread them - god, her pussy is perfect, so pink and slick - and take a long, slow taste. She moans, low and long, breathing out a desperate “fuck, yes…” as she cards her fingers through my hair. And I growl, I fucking growl like a goddamn dog, and drive my tongue into her dripping hole. She hooks one leg over my shoulder and tilts her hips and I grab on to her ass and hold her up. I lick her deep, thrusting and flicking and swirling my tongue, filling my mouth with the flavor of her, then I peer up at her and...My. Fucking. God, she’s a vision. She’s shaking, twitching and gasping when my nose bumps her clit...

I slip my tongue from her cunt, ease her down and spread her open with my fingers, lapping at her folds, her entrance, her clit. Then I take that sensitive little bud between my lips and suck and holy shit, the fucking sound she makes...I gotta make her come. I need to see it, feel it, hear it.

But first I drag my mouth up her body, stopping to nip at her neck before landing on her lips. She licks into my mouth instantly, sucks at my lower lip, pushes her tongue against mine and I can tell she’s about to lose her mind.

~*~

I'd been in more than one motel room next to Dean's. And I'd always rolled my eyes, convinced that whatever girl he'd brought back with him was just putting on a show, playing porn star with their over-the-top wailing.

They weren't screaming loud enough.

“Can you taste yourself, baby?” he purrs between kisses, "You taste how fuckin' delectable your pussy is? So hot and sweet...” and I moan into his mouth. He slips his fingers back inside and curls them, nudging my sweet spot. “Want you come, YN…wanna make you fall apart..."

I'm biting my lip to keep from crying out too loudly, stifling the urge to scream because the pleasure he's giving me is so complete and consuming. I swear he knows my body better than I do. He's found places on me and inside of me that feel like they've never been touched until tonight. I'd thought maybe I was hypersensitive, so eager and thrilled that this was finally happening, but no - everything he does is deliberate. He finds a spot and knows whether to bite or kiss, push or pull, grind or slide, when to do it all at once or not at all. Every touch, every stroke sparks my nerves and ignites my cells and I'm down to my last fragments of control. I am utterly at his mercy, reduced to a writhing, wanton mess as his fingers slide inside of me, hitting my g-spot with incredible marksmanship. Then his lips land on my clit again, and...oh God. Oh my fucking god…

It starts in my belly, a molten heat simmering in my core, wavering a scant wavelength away from a fever pitch. It’s hot and thrumming and growing in speed and intensity until it can't be contained anymore. It bolts through me, hot and hard like an electric current and I go rigid as I come, the torrents of bliss saturating every molecule of my body. And then Dean is up on his knees, three fingers deep in my sodden cunt, his other hand laying flat on my lower stomach and muttering "Come on baby,...let go…let go for me…" Either I'm still coming or I'm coming again, hard and completely, and a quiet pull snaps from someplace deep inside... I completely shatter, so stunned with the sensation that I open my mouth in a silent scream as my cum splashes against his hand.

~*~

I tuck back down between her legs and softly lap at the stray drops sticking to her thighs. I’m about to go crazy - I’m hungry, starving for her, and I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking hard in my life.

I lay beside her, trace shapes on her collarbone, and watch her as she comes down - the way her tits rise and fall with every breath, the way her throat flexes when she swallows, the way the lamplight dances off her sweat-sheened skin. Her eyes are closed, mouth slightly opened, and her tongue sneaks out every now and then across her lips. Of all the ways I’ve ever seen YN, this has to be the absolute, bar-none best. She’s like a living statue or a painting, some kind of work of art. A goddamn masterpiece.

I don’t want to stop touching her. Right now, I don’t even think I could. She shudders and opens her eyes when I gently trace a wet finger along her cheek. Then she grabs my wrist, pulls my hand to her mouth, and wraps her lips around the fingers I used to fuck her. She sucks and licks, and all I can do is groan as my fingers slide along her tongue. I gotta distract myself or I’m gonna shoot off right now like a teenager…

I take my fingers back and move to hover over her, and catch her lips in mine again. Kissing her is so...it just feels right. Like hers are the only lips I ever need to kiss again. If this is all we do for the rest of the night - hell, for the rest of our lives, I’d be one hundred percent happy. But as we kiss, she starts to whimper, moan...and then I feel her fingertips skitter down my torso and brush against my cock. And I can’t help it, I grunt out a “fuck, YN” and chase her touch. She drags her thumb, then her palm against the tip of my dick, smears precome around my shaft then wraps me in her fingers. I bite my lip and rock into her fist while she strokes me, trying like hell not to lose it any time she gives the slightest squeeze. I can feel her breath on my face and I’m starting to fall into the rhythm, getting lost in her touch and the heat of her body beneath me…

Then in the flash of a second, she hooks a leg around my waist, shifts her weight and turns, and has me on my back. She's straddling me, and I watch her slick pussy drag along my cock while my hands slide up her thighs and grip her hips. My eyes wander, slowly, up her body, marveling at her shape and color and just the mere sight of her swaying over me. My eyes meet hers and then...I'm trapped. Hypnotized. Being here with this woman is like nothing I've ever seen or felt before, and there's some part of me that knows I'll never feel this way about anyone ever again.

~*~

My gaze meets his and I'm struck...with exactly what, I don't know. It's thrilling and terrifying at the same time but most of all it's certain; This is exactly where I'm meant to be, astride this beautiful man who’s lying beneath me, stripped of all his layers, and I can feel the moment he surrenders. His mind and his body, his control and his chaos, his pleasure and his pain, all together unfettered and unfurled.

Potent and fervent primal desire sets in and overtakes me; I want to claim him, feel his skin between my teeth, taste the salt of his sweat.

I shift to my knees, slot myself between his open legs and lean forward, pressing myself against the solid heat of his bare chest, and catch his lips in a quick but ravenous kiss. He tries to chase it but I pull away, letting one hand slide up his sternum, splaying my fingers over his throat. I fist his hard, dripping cock in my free hand and stroke. He breathes out my name with a curse and his head hits the floor as my mouth latches on to his neck.

Releasing my hold on him, my lips move from his neck to his collarbone, down and across his chest, following the blueprint of bruises, scratches, and scars until my nose brushes against the thatch of dark hair between his legs.

I flatten my tongue and lick his thick cock from base to tip, then take just the crown between my lips and gently suck. The taste of his precome fills my mouth and he moans and trembles, exhaling a long, deeply held breath as he laces his fingers in my hair. I take him all the way then, as far as I can, until I feel him hit the back of my throat. I hold him there and swallow, let him feel the soft flex around his shaft. I slide up and down slowly, stroking the inches that can’t slide down my throat with one hand, and cup his balls in the other. He whimpers, high-pitched and desperate, and the mere sound of that sends drops of arousal trickling down my thighs while my cunt clenches and quivers. His grip on my head tightens and I keep steady, caressing and taking him deep, and let the tip of one finger press against his perineum.

His body tenses and I peer up at him - the muscles of his abs are twitching, his neck is arched back, the tendons there strained and taut, jaw clenched, and teeth bared...he’s holding back, trying not to come. He hisses out a breath and gently tugs my hair, urging me to let him slip from my mouth. “Fuck, YN”, he breathes, and I walk my hands alongside of him, gliding my body against his and brush his lips with a gossamer kiss.

We both breathe hard, panting, fingers tangling in each other’s hair, hips rolling, hearts racing. His hard, thick length is sliding against the soaked lips of my pussy, the head of his cock nudging my throbbing clit. I look into the dark forest of his eyes, he places his hand on my cheek and suddenly there’s a surge - a swift and commanding energy that surrounds us, tangible and unconditional.

Our gaze locks as I raise my hips. He grips his cock, lines up at my entrance, and I sink down slowly, relishing every inch that stretches me open, my moan echoing his until I’m completely filled with him.

~*~

It’s almost too much.

She’s so warm, so wet, and so fucking tight...I swear I blackout for a second. It’s taking everything I got to hold on, and every ounce of control I can muster when she starts to move.

She’s groaning and sighing, and the way she’s breathing my name is like a siren’s song. I let her set the pace, tilt my hips to push into her as she rides me, find her hand and lace my fingers through hers. She fucks me slow, lets her head fall back and lays her free hand on my chest. Reaching up, I slide my hand between her tits, pinch and tug one nipple between my thumb and forefinger, and she lets out the most beautiful cry I’ve ever heard. And that sound wakes up the damn animal in me and I thrust into her, as deep as I can. I want her to fucking explode, feel her cunt throbbing tight around my dick and soaking me with her cum.

She pulls her hand from mine and moves it between her legs. I pinch her nipple again and she gasps as her body trembles, and I know she’s getting close. “Gonna come for me, YN?” I snarl, and she stills - her head falls back again and her fingers work faster, and I’m so caught up in her that I just start babbling. “Fuck yeah, YN, fucking come all over my cock…that’s my girl...” I pound into her faster as she gets tighter and wetter and then I feel it, her walls clenching and her cum dripping, her body finally going rigid as her orgasm tears through her.

I slow down and ease her through it, trace my fingertips over the curves of her glowing body and take in how absolutely stunning she is right now - her hair all mussed and tangled, her skin flushed pink, her lips bright red and swollen. Her eyes open and she grins down at me, the lazy roll of her hips picking up speed and I just...fucking...can't anymore.

I throw my arms around her and pull her against me, kissing her sweet lips as I roll us over. She arches into me, takes my face in her hands and purrs "...want it all inside me...I wanna feel your cum dripping from my cunt…" and holy goddamn shit, I'm gonna give her everything she wants.

She raises her knees and hooks her legs around mine, digs her heels into the back of my thighs, squeezes the walls of her pussy around me and I’m gone - all I feel is her silky wet heat, and all I can smell and taste is her sex and I drive in, fast and steady until I can’t hang on anymore. I let go and my world stops, every living fiber of my being at a standstill as I come with a shout. I thrust hard and deep and spill every drop inside of her, pumping her full as she fingers herself to another climax.

I rest my forehead against hers as we both catch our breath. She curls one hand around my waist and the other around the back of my shoulder, raking her fingernails gently along the base of my scalp. I kiss her, soft and quick, and pull out of her, rolling on to my back while I gather her in my arms.

I glance out the window. The snow’s still falling and the sun’ll start rising soon. The record is long over and skipping, and YN grips me tighter and shivers. “Hey, sweetheart...let me up,” I say, kissing her forehead. She groans but lets me go and I sit up, lean down to kiss her again and hop to my feet. I lift the needle off the record and find a quilt that’s tossed over one of the chairs. YN's curled on her side, and I can hardly wait to get back to her. I cover us both, pull her close, and I stare at her until I just can't keep my eyes open anymore. We drift off in each other’s arms and the last thought I think is a little prayer - that this is how I’ll fall asleep every night for the rest of my life.

~*~

I can’t remember who said it first. All I know is that it was suddenly there, as though it always had been, free falling from our lips as we moved and moaned and came together.

We’d awoken several times, one of us roused by a kiss or touch from the other, neither of us willing nor able to let it end without making love one more time.

The storm has finally passed. Sunshine beams across an azure sky and reflects with blinding brilliance off acres of freshly fallen snow. I peek out the kitchen window and catch a glimpse of Sam standing near the garage, up to his knees in icy white powder.

I set a kettle on the stove to boil.

“Look like we ain’t goin' anywhere any time soon,” Dean says, coming up behind me and circling his arms around me. He moves my hair away from my neck and nips at the exposed skin.

I lean against him and cover his clasped hands with mine. “Can’t say I’m all that disappointed.”

He hums and kisses my cheek, then moves his hands to rest on the swell of my belly.

“Your old man's gonna teach you how to make the best snowballs, kid. Knock your Uncle Sammy right off his ass.”

I giggle and spin around, draping my arms over Dean’s shoulders. “Big talk coming from the man who got a black eye during last year’s snowball fight.”

“That was a fluke. She had an unfair advantage.”

"She's less than half your size!”

“Exactly.”

The door opens and Sam trudges in, shaking and stomping the snow from his legs, laughing as he's nearly knocked over by a whirling, bright pink dervish of weatherproof polyester.

Our daughter runs over to us, cheeks rosy and nose runny from the cold, her apple-green eyes as big as sledding saucers.

“Mommy, Daddy, guess what?! We had a snowball fight and I won!”

“Ho ho! That’s my awesome little girl!” Dean cheers, scooping her up in his arms and swinging her through the air. He rests her on his hip, and they trade an Eskimo kiss. “Let’s go tell your Auntie Eileen and your baby cousin all about how you kicked your Uncle Sammy’s a - uh, butt.”

He sets her down and helps her unlace her boots while she tosses her hat and mittens to the floor. “Yeah, I kicked his ass!” she beams, and the three supposed adults in the room have to bite back their laughter.

“Yep,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Definitely a Winchester. No two ways...”

Once she's out of her boots and winter overall, she runs to Sam, grabs his thumb with her small hand and pulls him through the kitchen. Her tiny footsteps pelt up the stairs, layered with gleeful giggles. Then, with all the vivacity of her five years, she shrieks in triumph, “I beat you again, Uncle Sammy! I win again!”

Dean grins wide, pulls me back into his arms, and catches my lips in a kiss that teems with the same intense passion as the first one he ever gave me. And in seconds I’m melting, into his kiss, into him... into memories of a snowstorm and shag carpeting, the smoke of purple kush and the flicker of oil lamp flames, the pedal steel guitar riff of Lay Lady Lay and Dean’s hip-swaying serenade...

He breaks away, brushes a section of my hair away from my brow and tucks it behind my ear. Then he looks into my eyes with unwavering conviction and repeats the promise he’s made me every day since he took my hand in his - a promise that's as simple as it is complex, selfish yet altruistic, sometimes dubious but always definite, and anything and everything in between:

“I love you, YN.”

~Fin

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moskaisley · 4 years

Text

migraine pt. 4 | tension

gif cred: @thestarwarsdaily

rating: mature

word count: 5.7k HOO BOY

warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST EVERYONE IS ANGY, cursing, descriptions of vomiting and a panic attack, mentions of death, mentions of trafficking

a/n: I KNO THIS TOOK A LONG TIME .. AND I'VE BEEN STARING AT IT FOR HOURS. THANK U ALL FOR BEING SO SO SO PATIENT AND THANK U TO ALL THE PEOPLE WHO LEFT LOVELY COMMENTS ON BOTH TUMBLR N AO3 <3

I really really appreciate you guys. As someone who doesn't consider herself a writer by any means, it's nice to know that people enjoy the stories I tell. I had a LOT of trouble with this, but the rest of the story is planned out so I'm hoping there won't be as long a break in between chapters again! we've got about 3 parts left :))

summary:

"Maybe you don’t hate him as much as he thinks.

Maybe you miss him as much as he misses you. Maybe you also long for him in the late hours of the night, replaying moments of your lives together over and over and over in your head. Maybe you didn’t regret taking this job. Maybe, just maybe, you will forgive this broken man and let him in your heart’s home once again."

Wherein wounds are reopened, split, and burned alive.

parts 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

ao3 link / masterlist

Detective Ira Volskaya was a shady guy. Incidentally, he was also your client.

He couldn’t have been much older than you were, but years of police work and crime stopping have weathered him into a brooding, suspicious man with greying hairs and droopy, tired eyes. You and Mando ended up far away from the city center of Coruscant, Volskaya insisting that collection took place in an abandoned warehouse. Judging by how secretive this all was and how strict the detective was on his instructions, you figured that this little exchange wasn’t “in line” with Security Force policy.

As Mando spoke with Volskaya, you helped unload Khan’s slab onto the docking station for his men to take away. Once they had it down the ramp, you walked over to them, catching his attention.

Taking a puff of his cigarra, he narrows his eyes and nods at you, “She wasn’t with you last time.”

“She’s just–”

Mando’s head darted between the two of you, hesitating.

“A coworker,” you cut in sharply.

The detective pursed his lips in suspicion, but left it alone. Instead, he turned to the briefcase at his feet, handing it over to Mando. As he double checked the amount in the case, your eyes caught Ira’s men loading the carbonite slab onto a speeder. Your mind drifts back to something Mando said on the Slipstream.

“he’s wanted for running multiple sex trafficking rings throughout the galaxy…”

You look back at the detective, “What’s going to happen to the rest of Khan’s operation?”

“We’re hoping that his capture will cause a fracture in his little empire. Break up the chain of command and let it die out.”

Volskaya takes another drag and sighs, smoke curling off his lips, “But with the new intel that’s come in, there’s a chance it’ll create a power vacuum. A lot of people wanted him dead. Someone new could easily take his place.”

Your stomach twists as you remember Aayn’vida trembling on the bathroom floor. There are probably still thousands of girls like her, just as scared and helpless. It makes your mouth go sour.

As if sensing your discomfort, Mando shuts the case abruptly.

“It’s all here. Let’s go.”

You kept repeating to yourself that nothing would satisfy you more than to get off this planet and move on from anything that had to do with Khan Horne. But there was a scathing pull at the back of your mind that tugged with each step closer to the Crest. Your gaze darted between the case in Mando’s hand, the slab on the speeder, and Ira Volskaya’s retreating figure. Furrowing your brows, you rub your fingers on your temple; collecting never felt this complicated. What’s gotten into you? You got your money and the job is done, so why was your brain screaming at you to stop Mando from closing the ramp?

Someone new… a power vacuum.

“Wait.”

Mando’s gaze turned to you, fingers hovering over his vambrace.

Fumbling over your words, you say something along the lines of stay put and that you’ll be back in a second. Turning back to the warehouse, you jog away from the ship and call,

“Detective!”

He spins on his heel back to you, face twisting in confusion.

Squaring your shoulders and huffing your breath, you say, “Give me a list of everyone who was involved in Khan’s organization.”

He eyes you quizzically, “I thought bounty hunters didn’t ask questions.”

“I’m not asking as a bounty hunter.”

“Then what are you asking as?”

“Someone who can get to them faster than the Security Force can,” You swallow hard, courage pulsing through you, “Someone who can help.”

The detective raises his eyebrows at you, impressed. And then he smiles, throwing his cigarra to the ground and stomping out the ashes beneath his foot.

Din Djarin was not good enough for you. He didn’t deserve you. This much he knew.

So he let you go.

He really thought he did the right thing. It escalated too quickly after the cockpit and he found himself falling hard. What started as relief for sexual tension turned into softer touches, shining smiles, flirtatious jokes that drove him over the edge.

And then,

“Do you ever think there’s more to this?”

He digs his nose into the crook of your neck, arm slung over your bare waist. Half-asleep, dizzy from your warmth, he relishes in the feeling of your body next to his.

“More to what?”

You let out a gentle sigh, “This life. Hunting. Living out of a tiny, broken ship hopping from planet to planet.”

“Hey, the Crest isn’t that bad.”

You slap him lightly against his chest, “You know what I mean.”

“What did you have in mind?”

A cottage. The ocean. Family.

All in the afterglow of a kiss that tasted like peaches.

Din had a feeling you’ve always wanted more, but this was truly the first time you spoke honestly and truly in length about it. Bounty hunting was rarely ever a sought after profession, and though you were good at your job, he knew it wasn’t something you ever planned on continuing. Twisting a peach pit in your fingers, you admit to him that your life would’ve been completely different without it. You would’ve taken over your father’s orchards and lived in your beautiful family villa, selling fresh fruit to nobles and townspeople alike. Your voice grows wistful as you recount sweet summer days spent chasing your older brother through the fields or weaving baskets with your mother.

“I wore sundresses, Din.”

He smiles against the soft skin of your neck and squeezes your thigh gently, “Sounds pretty. You should wear them again.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Very much so, yes.”

You let out a giggle, shoving him gently. He only held you tighter. A beat of silence passed between you before Din’s hand moved to interlace with yours, face suddenly contorting with unease.

“What happened?”

“What always happens.” Your shoulders rise and fall with a heavy sigh, and you grip his fingers tighter. “I was seventeen when Imps occupied our valley. They wanted to clear the farm for military barracks; when my father refused, they burned everything to the ground in the middle of the night. My brother and I escaped with a few other refugees.”

“And your parents?”

“Firing squad.”

“What about our brother?”

He feels your nails dig further into the crevice of his hand.

“He was stupid enough to join the Resistance. I don’t know where he is, but I’ve assumed the worst already.”

His heart twists in remorse at the hurt in your voice. Removing his hands away from yours, he pulls you in closer, stroking your hair with his calloused fingers and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. In all your years of partnership, Din had never known the full extent of your past, only that you started young doing hits for spice cartels and eventually ending up in the Guild. Before, when he tried to ask why you started so early, your answer was always brief and bitter.

“There was only so much a girl could do to make money, Mando.”

The conversation never went further than that. But now, in light of your vulnerability and candor, your questions about the future suddenly made sense. It was never supposed to be this way; your life since adolescence had been solely dictated by fear and the need to survive. When you spoke about it, you sounded exhausted. With the decline of the Empire, how could he blame you for wanting to be more than a war-torn orphan turned ruthless hunter?

The more he thought about it the more it tore him apart.

Because suddenly he was 11 years old again, watching the carnage of his hometown disappear over the shoulder of a Death Watch soldier. Jarring visions of blood and empty eyes melted in between with hazy memories of happy trips to the market and bedtime stories. It felt like whiplash. The echoes of blaster fire and falling debris were loud enough for him to wake up shaking in a cold sweat. The pounding of his heart sounded a lot like cannon fodder and it was loud enough to give him the headaches you suffered from so often. He was ashamed to say that the only time he really remembered his mother’s face was when she was dead on the ground. But to his horror, in his nightmares, he began to see you instead of her, body lifeless and eyes devoid of any life. Everything he’d been ignoring since his youth, crushed and hidden after swearing the Creed and following the Way of the Mandalore, was suddenly washing over him like ocean waves in a storm. Because, unlike you, this life was so devastatingly simple and comfortable for him. It was almost sacred; he was bound by a near holy doctrine and devoid of emotional attachments. That is, until you came and found home under his skin. He was grieving for you before he even lost you. It was unbearable, filling his lungs and suffocating him until he was gasping for air–

“Are you okay?” Your drowsy voice whispered beneath him.

He swallowed hard and pulled you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Go back to sleep, sweet girl.”

Any semblance of a normal life was lost on him. Din knew he couldn’t give you peace he didn’t have. He wanted to, though.

He wished he could gift you every star that shone in the sky.

Fuck 80%. He’d give you galaxies.

And yet, he still pulled a blaster on you and left you alone – too caught up in not facing his own demons. Din didn’t realize how much of a mistake it was to let you go until he was half-dead, bleeding all over your old bunk. A job went terribly wrong that day. He was ambushed on some godforsaken jungle planet and running on two hours of sleep, dreams plagued with visions of you crying at the foot of the Slipstream. He was so used to having someone cover his blindspots that he made a colossal mistake that nearly cost him his life. No one had his back that day, and was there no one to stitch him up and call him an idiot.

Existing without you was rougher than he thought it’d be since you’d seeped into every corner of his little life. He couldn’t pass a fruit stand without glancing over for your favorite peaches. When he’d wrangle with tougher bounties, he cursed at how much easier this shit would be if you were there. In the Razor Crest, you’d organized the kitchenette a certain way that Din couldn’t find a pot without tearing it apart, and then he’d wrack his brain to figure out how you organized it so neatly in the first place. He felt a chill when he passed your empty bunk. One day, he found a bottle of your headache medicine in the refresher cabinet. Din kept it. Just in case.

You were everywhere and yet, you weren’t.

You ran together for so long that others noticed your disappearance. Even Xi’an.

“Where’s your little puppy, Mando? She lost?”

He said nothing.

The Twi’lek moved closer, running a hand up his chestplate, “Or did you leave her behind, too?”

“Don’t,” he seethed. The victory in her eyes was disgusting.

Mayfeld’s teasing voice cut in, “Competition, Xi’an?”

“Hardly,” She gave him a vile smirk, “Did she whine like a bitch when it finally happened?” Din was quick to seize her hand away from his body, twisting her forearm near the point of breaking.

“I said. Don’t.”

She only laughed. He wished you were there to wipe that smirk off her face.

It was then that he decided to come and find you. As it turns out, bounty hunters don’t make great parents. The child had just barely survived again, and Din was getting desperate. He’d already lost track of how many times the baby was put in danger, and though he’d been able to keep him alive all these months, Din was definitely not a parent.

After picking up the most lucrative, non-Guild job he could get, he flew straight to the one person he could truly trust in the universe.

When he saw you tensely poised at the cantina, ten paces felt like ten parsecs.

The first thing he noticed were the strands of grey peeking through your hair and the dark circles beneath your eyes. You were by no means an old woman, but you weren’t getting any younger either. In the state that he left you in, three years had aged you and your fiery spirit. Your once lively, spitfire demeanor was now cold and tired.

In the beginning of this little reunion, Din was half convinced that he’d made a terrible mistake trying to make amends. He was desperate to be in your good graces. He needed to apologize. beg you. Grovel at your feet. Atone. Do penance. But you’d seem to shut down every time he tried, denying his pitiful apologies and forgoing any pleasantries. The Mandalorian was lost around you.

And then you got shot.

At that point, Din was positive you were marching straight out of his ship and jetting away in the Slipstream the second this was all over – not before kicking his ass, of course. All the guilt that had consumed him over the years nearly drew him to insanity as he took your limp body from Aayn’vida’s arms, cursing in Mando’a and imploring you to stay awake. Wiping the tears from your eyes and tending to your wound, his thoughts were hysterical. How could he do this to you? Put you through all this trouble only to get shot? And for what? A chance to –

“Din?”

The name fell so softly from your lips.

“Din, my head– it hurts so much.”

His mouth goes dry. He lets out a shaky breath, overwhelmed and eyes bleary.

“Sssh, lay down. You’ll be okay, cyar’ika.”

The Mandalorian only ever dreamed about you saying his name again. Upon your reunion, he noticed immediately how unnatural “Mando” sounded in your mouth, even if he’s heard it thousands of times. It stung when you refused to call him anything else. So hearing it whispered in the walls of the Razor Crest again made his heart beat violently in his chest and gave him the smallest sliver of hope.

Maybe you don’t hate him as much as he thinks.

“I saw Xi’an again.”

Initiating small talk felt physically painful, but he tried anyway. After Jaemai, you seemed to be a little more comfortable speaking freely with him. If you were still angry, you kept it hidden well. Besides, it was hard to be upset with a cute baby on board.

“Really?” You responded with casual interest, attention mostly focused on the child in front of you while Din piloted the ship.

“Yup,” he said, “She… uh...betrayed me and tried to kill the kid.”

“Sounds like her. Where is she now?”

“Prison.”

He doesn’t miss the cheeky grin that spreads across your lips. You softly chuckle and take the baby in your arms, cooing to him, “Good riddance, huh? That scary blue lady is gone for good, yeah?”

The kid gurgles in delight when he’s lifted up. Mando watches you lovingly play with the child, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He doesn’t remember you being so good with kids, but then again, that was a rare opportunity in itself. The thought of you with kids of your own makes his cheeks flush with warmth.

“Where did you even find him?” You ask, bouncing him up and down in his crib.

“Arvala 7. He was the asset.”

You look at him now, puzzled, “The asset? He’s a child!”

“He’s wanted by Imps.”

“Huh.” You hold the child closer to you now, rocking him in your arms. “And you saved him.”

He hummed in confirmation. A beat of silence passes by.

Mando notes the way the kid stares at you with warm, loving eyes, “He likes you.”

“Yeah?” You look back to the green baby raising him high in the air. His excited laughter is sweet in your ears and you giggle with him.

“Mando’s probably a mess when it comes to you. Probably forgets to feed you, doesn’t he?”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s heart flutters all the same.

Lowering the child back into his pod, the child fusses as you try to get him to settle down. You took the silver ball that was laying in his blanket and placed it in his hands to divert his attention. Din faces back towards the console while you sink into the co-pilot’s seat. Your old seat.

From the corner of his eye, he sees you pulling a data pad from your pack on the floor and plugging in a storage drive. You scroll through droves of information silently while Din keeps his gaze trained on the passing lights of hyperspace. But his curiosity only grew, and he was tired of straining his eyes to slyly look at whatever you were reading.

“What are you looking at?”

Your eyes don’t meet his, instead continuing to scan over the information before you. “It’s all the people who kept Khan’s ring running.”

“You got this from the detective?”

You nod.

“Why?”

A long sigh escapes you as you power down the datapad and slip it away.

“I guess you can say I’m retiring.”

Din’s body is quick to turn to you, “What do you mean?”

“You heard Volskaya, someone is just gonna take his place. There are still plenty of people like Aayn’vida. People who need help.”

Beneath his helm, his face twists in reluctance. He asks, “And you’re gonna do it alone?”

You furrow your brows at him, as if the answer was obvious. “Looks like it.”

Din straightens up in his seat, stomach turning uneasily. The air in the cockpit was suddenly suffocating, and he sensed your growing ire as you pressed your lips together.

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

You roll your eyes.

“You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“Your judgy thing!”

You point an accusing finger at his form, “The one you do with your face and your shoulders.”

“You can’t even see my face.”

“Mando.”

“Alright! It’s just–” he grits, struggling to find the words, “It seems...dangerous.”

“You say that like it makes a difference,” your voice cuts in, sharp like a blade, “do you not think I’m capable on my own?”

“What? No, I–”

Kriff, why is it so hard to talk to you? Din lets out a huff, scolding himself to get it together.

“Listen, we both know you’re more than capable of handling yourself. But this? This is big shit. Not some bail-skipper or petty thief. You go after them and they’ll be on you for the rest of your life.”

“What life, Mando?” you snapped, “When I was her age, I could’ve easily been one of those girls. Bounty hunting wasn’t a life, it was survival. This is something that’s important.”

“Y/N, you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“Why does that suddenly matter to you?”

You both wince at the sharpness of your words and you turn away from him, suddenly embarrassed of your own outburst. Harsh silence blankets you both as you keep your gazes trained forward. The tension in the air is heavy and thick.

Your tight voice cuts through the quiet with a single question.

“Why did you bring me here?”

He feels like he’s gonna be sick.

“I–”

A giant crash abruptly resounds through the cockpit, causing the three of you to jerk forward. Alarms uproar through the ship as the two of you scramble into position at the console. Your fingers find the buttons easily, pulling up the radar and scanning the area for the threat.

A comm chimes in, “Give us the child, Mandalorian! It’s no use trying to run.”

“It’s a gunship, coming in from behind us,” you quickly inform, “Shit! The shields are weak, we need to get out of here now.”

He nods in agreement, gripping the controls again and lurching the ship forward and speeding off. Your attackers follow in hot pursuit, blasting your ship again. A hit lands, shaking the Crest violently again, earning a strangled cry from behind you.

“Y/N! The baby!” Din grunts, veering the ship back on course.

“Right!”

You nearly leap from your seat, securing and shushing the panicked child as you close his pram to keep him from falling amidst the chaos. Coming back to the co-pilot’s seat, you curse as you read through the multiple alarms flashing across the ship’s interface.

“Our shields are down, Mando. We need to end this.”

He curses under his breath, weighing their options. They didn’t have enough fuel for a hyperspace jump, nor the time to make any proper calculations. His gaze darts to the green planet approaching up ahead and bites the inside of his cheek. A crash isn’t ideal, but it solves the issue of being stranded in dead space. Another jolt and crash rock the ship forward.

“Strap in,” He barks at you, “We’re shooting our way out and going for an emergency landing.” You nod, securing yourself in your seat and preparing yourself for battle.

“It isn’t the worst planet to get stuck on.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that we’re stuck.”

The two of you stood at the foot of the Razor Crest which was currently smoking and leaking fuel into the forest floor. Though you’d survived the gunfight above, the ship had taken serious damage. The shield generators were nearly destroyed and the repulsor grilles were shot, making it impossible to fly the Crest without spinning off course. Normally, with the help of a mechanic, the job could be done within a matter of days, but you were both stuck in a thick forest with the next town over being at least a day’s walk. Repairs could take at least a week with the spare parts that were already kept in the ship, and travelling into town could easily make it two, assuming they’d even have what you need. This posed 2 issues:

Every day you stayed idle, the higher the risk of another hunter (or worse, an Imperial) turning up and kidnapping the child.

Din had yet to feel the wrath that had been building up inside you for the past three years. If the hunters didn’t shoot him, you definitely would, and you wouldn’t miss.

He takes his gaze off the ship and observes your surroundings. All things considered, it was a pretty nice place. The forest was lush, rife with tall trees and bright flora. The air was fresh and cool, and the whistles of birds carried through the treetops. He was somewhat grateful; you could have easily been stuck in a scorching desert or some awful jungle. Past the clearing–which had inadvertently been made by the ship crash– there was a lake, crystal clear and stretching for miles. If the circumstances were any different, maybe you would have enjoyed yourselves, stopped and admired the scenery together.

But they weren’t.

The fact of the matter is that there’s something acrid that permeated the air between you. Sometimes, he could catch it in the way you looked at him, how your eyes flared with sharp, visceral rage and piercing through his beskar like a hot blade. He saw it in the cantina at your reunion, and he felt it twist his heart during your last exchange before you landed.

“Why does it suddenly matter to you?”

Discussing the rift between you wasn’t a conversation he was eager to have. The attack on the Crest only delayed the inevitable, and now, shipwrecked on an unknown planet, he waited anxiously for the years to catch up on him. Your irritation with him didn’t die when you’d landed; it might’ve actually gotten worse. Every furrow of your brows, every curse under your breath only reminded Din of how much you were dying to say, and it only amplified his dread. But being the practical person you were, you remained focused on survival first, setting up camp and laying out a plan for repairs in the morning. Going into town would have to wait, as you weren’t sure what state the ship would be in after its initial mending. You stayed silent in the hours you both tended to your respective duties and it wasn’t until the late afternoon that he felt your presence once again.

He was in the middle of counting ration packs when you said, “We need firewood. It might be cold tonight.”

Din nodded, but as he watched you begin to walk away into the woods, he couldn’t help but spill the words bubbling in his throat.

“About what I said earlier. I didn’t mean to offend you,” he stood to his full height, “You’re–you’re right. It’s not my business anymore.”

You didn’t respond to him for a moment; your expression, frozen and unreadable. Your gaze tears away from him to look down at the toes of your shoes, and he hears you let out a dejected, breathy laugh as you shook your head.

“You know what I don’t get?” You ask, cynicism dripping from your lips, “You never answered my question on the ship.”

Din clenches his fists, nausea suddenly returning to him.

“Khan wasn’t a hard job. You could’ve easily caught him without me, so why? Why did you bring me? Why did you find me?”

“I couldn’t go into the terminal without attracting attention.”

“No, but you could’ve waited for him to move. Tracked him somewhere else,” your tone grows more clipped by the second, “I know you. You’re the best in the parsec and you would’ve found him. I might’ve gotten shot, but there were way harder quarries than him.”

When he still doesn’t answer, you march forward, fuming with indignation.

“For once, can you just tell me the truth?”

Din’s heart was nearly bursting out of his chest, anxiety rippling through him as he confessed.

��I need help,” he croaks, nearly cringing at the weakness and desperation in his tone, “with him.”

He beckons over to the child, carelessly toddling along the floor. Din watches your expression soften with pity as you watch him play.

“I don’t...I don’t know what I’m doing,” He continues, “I’m so confused and–and lost. I worry about him all the time. He’s always in danger. I’ve tried to give him a home, somewhere safe. But the Empire won’t stop until they find him.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re the only one I trust in this universe.”

Din waits for your answer with bated breath, drinking in every reaction. You looked pained, fingers finding their way to the bridge of your nose, pressing hard and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“And I’m supposed to trust you in return?”

Once again, he doesn’t respond, fearing that he’d only make the situation worse.

“You know I can’t do this.”

You cross your arms, hugging your body as you turn away from the kid to face him. He feels his heart sink, distress clawing away at him. I need you; I can’t lose you again. I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.

“Could you at least think about it?”

“I can’t,” you say sternly, “I’m sorry about the kid, but I know you can figure something out. I’m not the right person, and you need to find someone else.”

You are. More than right. More than I deserve.

“I don’t know who else I can turn to.”

“Mando, you don’t understand,” your voice turns angry once again, “I can’t live everyday not knowing if you’re gonna stick around or not.”

“Things are different, Y/N. I’m not going to leave.”

“Why? Because you have a baby to take care of, you’re suddenly willing to stick around? What happens if things get serious? What is keeping you from walking out tomorrow? A few weeks from now? Are you gonna leave me without a ship this time? Shoot me if I don’t cooperate?”

Stop stop stop stop. He raises his voice, not in ire but in desperation, “This isn’t about us, this is about him!”

“It’s always going to be about us!” Din is stunned to silence as your eyes turn glossy and red with tears, “And after everything, I–I can’t trust you. I mean–kriff– you left me in the worst way possible. You only offered me a job because you knew I wouldn’t have listened to you in the first place, didn’t you?”

His shoulders go rigid, head dipping in shame.

You scoff, sucking in a deep, shaky breath before you go on, “We can’t act like nothing ever happened and just push it aside for the kid; it’s always going to be there. Every time we speak, every time I look at you I–”

You cut yourself off, hesitating to finish your thought. Running your fingers through your hair, you tug at it at it as you let out yet another frustrated huff, “I spent three years of my miserable life trying to figure out what I did wrong. If you can tell me right now what was going through your head that day, then maybe I’ll consider staying. But if you can’t, you need to find someone else.”

The words are there, but get caught in his throat. He’s terrified; speaking them aloud might just rip him in half, but if he doesn’t, he loses you a second time. But they don’t come; they linger and fester and rot on his tongue, and he can only clench his fists harder at his own cowardice.

The way you look at him is soul crushing.

“I thought so.”

You pick up your pack and sling it over your shoulders, skulking into the woods without another word.

You didn’t come back for hours. Night fell across the forest as Din paced outside the Razor Crest, playing out your conversation in his head over and over again until it made him dizzy. His gut was filled with dread as each minute passed by, and he couldn’t figure out if he wanted you to come back at all. It wasn’t until he heard a soft whine from the floating pram that he realized that so much time had passed. Din nearly forgot to feed the child his own hysteria.

“Hey, little womp rat,” he sighed, gently picking him up, “She’s right, huh? I really am a mess.”

The baby’s big glossy eyes stare up at him as if sensing Din’s unease. His tiny hands grab at the thick cloak around his neck, pulling himself upwards and nuzzling his face in between his neck and his pauldron. Is he… comforting me?

Something forms at the base of his throat as he croaks a gentle, “Thanks, kid.”

But this quiet moment of peace is interrupted at the cracking sound of a stick. He stills, listening further as footsteps grow louder and louder. His blaster is out and aimed behind him before he can even think to look. He whips around, clutching the baby closer to him only to see you abruptly dropping the chopped wood in your hands to the floor. The baby begins to cry at the sudden shift in movement.

He relaxes, letting his arm fall to his side but not holstering his blaster. Instead, he gently bounces the child in his other arm in an attempt to soothe him.

“It’s okay. It’s just Y/N,” he says softly. When Din looks back to you, you’re still frozen on the spot. His brows furrow beneath his helmet.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You stutter, “Can you put that fucking thing away, please?”

He looks at the child, and back to you. A flare of irritation ignites in his chest.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Every time you point you point it at me, I expect you to pull the trigger.”

Oh. Shit.

Guilt pierces through his chest. He quickly slips it back into his holster

“I’m sorry I didn’t know it was you,” he apologizes. You’re still unmoving, looking at him as if he’d just burned you.

“Y/N, you know I would never–“

“But you were going to.”

“Not even then.”

As Din begins to walk forward, he notices the way your body shakes violently. His hand gingerly goes to rest against your arm to comfort you, but you tear yourself away from him, wrapping inward as you seethe.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.”

The look in your eyes makes Din’s blood run cold. Your pointed stare was piercing and hot and raw. It seared and flared with white hot wrath. Your breathing was ragged, chest heaving up and gasping for air. There it is.

The visceral rage and contempt you held for him had finally surfaced. It festered and boiled over, consuming you to the point where Din thought you would’ve killed him on the spot. But then, revulsion contorts your face, and you quickly shove past him, leaving him paralyzed in your wake. You disappear behind the Crest, and he hears you dropping to the ground.

He winces at the sound of you heaving the contents of your stomach into the lake.

Din sets the baby down into his carrier, and quickly rounds the corner of the ship to see you on your hands and knees at the edge of the water.

He’s speechless. The only words he could manage sounded disgustingly miserable from his vocoder.

“I’m so sorry.”

You sniffle as you drag yourself up from the ground. You don’t turn around to face him.

“You don’t have to tell me why you left. Even if I deserve an explanation,” you say, voice strained and pathetic.

“Because when this is all over, I don’t ever want to see you again. Keep your money and your jobs. I don’t care if it pays enough for ten lifetimes. If you ever try to find me, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

taglist:

@bella-ciaao , @tiffdawg thanx loves <3

#IM NERVOUSUSOSUSUOS #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian/reader #the mandalorian fic #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin/reader #baby yoda #pedro pascal #am i too dramatic #can u tell the leo jumped out #i will say #it gets worse before it gets better #migraine #my palms r sweaty #srry im 36 minutes late

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mystic-kitten-writer · 4 years

Text

Limerence [M] ︳32

Pairing: Zuko x OC

Genre: Romance, mainly fluff with future smut, and if you squint hard enough - you’ll find some angst.

Rating: SFW

Words: 14300+

Notes: It’s here! Get ready for the flood of emotions, sorry not sorry. But it's also crazy to see how far the story has gotten now. Did you know that I passed my one-year anniversary for this story (silently cries by myself in the corner). I'm so emotionally attached to this story it's stupid. But I hope you enjoy the story, and thank you for the awesome love and support!

Please stay healthy and safe, take care~!

Masterlist ︳Bonus pt. 2 [M] ︳ 33

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

Limerence: (English/n.) the state of being infatuated with another person.

The moment their eyes locked they knew - the flames within him twisted while the water within her turned. It was a connection, a connection that would lead to love, adventure, and drama.

Tacenda

(Latin/n.) Things better left unsaid; not to be mentioned to the public.

~ Ying Yue Jiang ~

“You know…you have beautiful eyes, Princess.”

“Awe, thanks, Sokka.”

“Too bad your face is ugly.”

“I swear-”

The immature hoots that erupted from Sokka were loud and clear. His belly rumbled in amusement, entertained at my exasperated expression as I rested over his stomach.

We were lounging in Zuko’s and I bedroom, munching on cookies on our bed, despite it being early in the morning. Zuko already rose and went for a morning jog – and I would be lying if I said I didn’t use the excuse of me being under the weather to avoid that run.

It was as Zuko was leaving that Sokka busted through the grand doors, still in his polar bear pyjamas, with a plate of cookies in hand – “I wanted to check up on Princess, see how she’s feeling.”

And that leads us to where we were now.

I grumbled under my breath, stuffing another fresh-baked chocolate-chip cookie into my mouth as Sokka beamed down at me. Despite the pointless banter and teasing, Sokka and I were venting to each other; I was beyond happy. I never realized how much I missed spending time with him – he was my partner in crime, the person who helped me learn to laugh again.

And while Sokka has been by my side from the beginning – we never got a chance to hang out as much as I would’ve wanted. Appreciate the presence of each other, even though ‘sibling time’ means tons of teasing and humiliation.

A hand rested behind his head as he leaned against the bedframe, stuffing another cookie in his mouth. His hair has grown so much already.

Usually, it was up in a messy top knot, but today, he let his hair down. Zuko still had the lengthiest hair out of the guys, but Sokka was starting to prove himself to be a worthy competitor. I was always jealous of how attractive Katara’s and Sokka’s brown hair was. There were natural blond highlights, and it complimented their baby blue eyes.

“Hey…did Aang bring Momo?” I pondered out loud; brows pinched as I tried to recall the last time I saw that mischievous creature. He was already so infuriatingly elusive, but now that we were in the Kingdom, it was like he vanished.

“Yeah, but you know how Momo is…” Sokka mumbled under his breath, more focused on chewing the cookie stuffed in his mouth than answering my question.

“I haven’t seen him once!” I exclaimed, and Sokka snorted, “Join the club. I asked Aang the other day, told me Momo is hiding out in the kitchen.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes hearing that – of course, Momo is there. Appa would’ve joined Momo if he were here and could fit.

“Explains why the kitchen staff is panicking. They keep complaining that the food keeps disappearing – scared it could be a ghost.”

“You know what would be really funny…” Sokka considered, and based off the tone alone – I knew he was thinking of something evil. My mouth opened and closed, fighting the temptation to ask because I knew better. There was a reason why Sokka and I got along; we were the definition of dumb and dumber.

My lips puckered, and the next thing I knew, I turned on my side, facing Sokka eagerly –“What’s your plan?” Sokka grinned, sitting upright. I yelped, body rolling onto his lap, and in a bold move – he put down the plate of sweets on the bed. He means business.

“What if we covered Momo in flour – make him look like a ghost? The kitchen staff would lose their minds.”

“Sokka~! I can already imagine the mess.”

“And I can already imagine the looks on their faces when they see a ghost.” I huffed, crossing my arms. “No, Zuko will kill me if he finds out it was us.”

“Keyword, if.”

“Where is Katara when you need her?!” I groaned to myself. If Katara were here, she would’ve shut down this plan before Sokka could even think of it. She was the mother of the group for a reason – she kept us all in check.

I grabbed a cookie from the plate that Sokka set aside, shoving it against Sokka’s lips. “Lie back down and eat a cookie.” I pestered, the only way I knew how to distract him. Sokka laughed against the cookie I practically stuffed, trying to chew the whole thing in one go.

“Aren’t you excited? She’s arriving tonight.” He mumbled between chomps. An enormous smile appeared on my lips, brushing my bedhead hair away from my face. “I can’t wait!” I gushed, body sprawling across the bed as I hugged my teddy bear close to my chest.

My gaze shifted upwards, staring at the wooden lined ceiling above us, with a silly look. It’s been how long since I’ve last seen Katara? It felt like forever, but I knew it was only a few months. Woah…me and Zuko haven’t been dating for that long, have we?

It felt like Zuko, and I have been together for years – but not in a bad way. I just felt so comfortable with him. Our routines, how open we are with each other, it was surprising to think that we haven’t been together for that long. But also look at everything that happened, everything we have gone through together…

It’s no surprise we’re as close as we are. We practically went through everything a couple may experience over their lifetime in a span of a few months. Add in the fact that he’s the ruler of a nation – things get a bit complicated.

“She’s going to freak out when she hears everything that is going on.

I pouted, snapping my head towards Sokka, “She doesn’t know?” Sokka grimaced, his silliness gone and face stern, “No. We didn’t want to give too much information via messenger bird or attached to Appa. It could get intercepted. It’s not worth the risk.”

A blue silence fell between us; my gaze returned to the ceiling, lost in my thoughts. Despite all the smiles, the giggles, the sweet moments of bliss – that didn’t change the current chaos around us. Mai is a traitor, Azula is back, and Yakone-

It was like someone punched me.

The mere mention of Yakone had a shiver running up my spine, the hairs on my arms rising in terror. Zuko didn’t mention his name once around me, and I wonder if it was because he knew how shaken up I was after the incident. The worst part of it all was I still had the handkerchief Yakone gave me that night when he comforted me, hidden away in my vanity. Gosh, I should’ve thrown it out, burnt it –anything, but keeping it.

I didn’t know why I even kept the stupid thing. Maybe it was to remind me that Yakone wasn’t that evil as a man? That there was still a little bit of good left in him. Yakone knew my family’s crane story.

Dumb luck?

He’s also a Bloodbender.

But Aang told me that-

“Princess…how is your ‘Fire Nation Politics’ lessons going?” Sokka asked, his voice cutting my thoughts in half. I couldn’t help but jump slightly in surprise, and Sokka’s hand fell over my forehead, a soothing gesture spotting my uneasiness.

“Hmm? S-sorry, I didn’t hear properly.” I mumbled quickly, looking up at Sokka. He rolled his eyes at my aloofness, flicking my head before speaking again, “You’re lessons involving politics. Zuko told me you’ve been learning a few things.”

I groaned loudly.

Gosh, bloody Fire Nation politics.

The moment I accepted that stupid Imperial Consort seal, I’ve had to brush up on my Fire Nation knowledge. From previous Fire Lords, customs, family trees, and laws – I wanted to cry. It wasn’t that it wasn’t interesting, it was just so much information thrown at me at once.

My hands fell over my face as I internally sobbed.

“It’s so difficult. I understand the basics, but the system here seems so backwards at times.” I whined into my hands, venting all the annoyance I had bottled up. There were so many things going on; at this point, I felt like I was memorizing words rather than understanding.

But knowing the rules did help out and gave me the chance to fire that meanie of a councilmember…Maybe I did understand more than I was giving myself credit for. But with everything else going on at the moment, my head hurt tons.

“Why don’t you ask Zuko to help you out, Princess? He is kind of like, the Fire Lord.” My hands dropped from my face, opting to throw my arms into the air in defeat. “I don’t want to bother Zuko. He has so much on his plate. I want to do this on my own.”

“But Princess, this is his job. He’ll help if you ask– he wants to help.”

I huffed to myself, biting my lips in frustration, “I know, but...I-uhh-I don’t know. I don’t want to. Have you seen the book I had to read for this week?”

Sokka shook his head, and I grumbled to myself, “On my nightstand. See that ridiculously thick book? Yeah, try reading a page and not fall asleep.” Sokka laughed at the evident disgust in my voice, grinning madly as he reached to his side. Just thinking about the book had me shivering in fear.

But I was trying.

Watching the way Zuko worked on a daily, it made me want to work just as hard. I wanted the prove everyone wrong – that I wasn’t some arm candy for Zuko. That I knew what I was doing… Sometimes, it felt like Zuko was the only one who believed in me in this kingdom. I won the people’s hearts – now I had to prove to the council that I can do this.

I closed my eyes, letting my arm rest over my eyes, the migraine that I’ve had still dully throbbing.

It was strange, for the past five or so days, I kept fluctuating from feeling better to isolating myself in bed. My body was hurting; my head felt like a hot mix of heavy and aching. Was having a cold always this annoying? I usually had Katara heal me; I haven’t experienced a full-blown illness in years.

“I’m gonna read where you have your bookmark,” Sokka spoke, and I merely nodded.

Although…I don’t remember leaving a bookmark in my book…I didn’t make it far enough to bother putting one. I could hear Sokka snort as if he was trying to sniffle in a laugh-

“Yesterday, Zuko used the lounging area after our bath, and I couldn’t be happier! He looked sooooo cute sitting there, reading. He almost fell asleep-”

“OH MY GOSH SOKKA STOP!” I screamed. This asshole was reading my bloody journal!

Sokka jumped out of bed, the fastest I’ve ever seen him move. I don’t even think he’s moved this fast or much during his times in battles. His bare feet hit the ground with a loud thud, laughing obnoxiously loud as he watched my expression of pure humiliation.

My eyes were bulging, cheeks a flaming hot red as I jumped in the bed, frantically trying to grab the notebook from his grasp.

“I love how when Zuko thinks he pouts like a child and-”

“Sokka STOP – give it back!” I moaned loudly, embarrassment about to eat me alive and be my cause of death. But my cries fell upon deaf ears, Sokka smiling like the cat that got the cream and sliding away from me. I huffed stridently, flying off the bed and flailing my arms stupidly.

Toph and I were the same height, which meant that everyone was outlandishly taller than us by two heads, minimum. I hopped up and down, trying my hardest to get Sokka to shut up – oh my gosh, I’m going to strangle him. But he just rose his arms high above him, reading the damn diary loud and proud. Please don’t read more, or else he’s going to-

“It’s crazy to think that it’s those same pouty lips that left these hickies- OH NO. I’m GOING TO KILL HIM!” Sokka raged, his face matching my red face.

I lunged forward, digging my shoulder into Sokka’s stomach.

Both of us went tumbling down on the floor, sounding like thunder during a rainstorm. One would have thought we were doing some training exercise at the amount of effort and roughhousing we were currently engaging in. Who needs a morning run when you have a dumbass older brother reading your diary?

“Give it back to me!”

“NEVER. I swear, what else has that asshole done? I’m bringing you back home after we figure this stuff out!”

“OH shut up, Sokka. I’m staying here!”

“No, you aren’t! HOLY SHIT – you guys did WHAT in his office!?”

“Sokka, stop reading!” I shrieked, trying to rip the damn book from his hands. I was puffing brashly, Sokka swinging his arms above him, despite me sitting on his chest, trying to catch his hands.

“No! I do work on that damn desk sometimes. I’ve drunken TEA on top of there!” Oh, screw this, “I swear Sokka, I’ll choke you out if you don’t give me my diary!”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He hissed under his breath; blue eyes narrowed – the glare of a warrior. I shot back the same look he gave me – I could be just as scary as him if I tried really-really hard. Sorry, Suki – find yourself a new man-

“Should I even ask?”

Sokka and I froze, heads snapping upwards, hearing the gruff voice echoing above us.

Zuko stood at the end of the bed, his arms across his broad chest, as he watched us with a mixture of confusion and amusement. His face was rosy from running, a few beads of sweat running down his temple and neck. I could see the way his chest rose with every breath, still winded from his workout.

My cheeks flushed at the sight of Zuko’s sweaty body, and at how silly Sokka and I looked. But Sokka seemed just as startled as me. Taking advantage of the opportunity, I snatched the notebook away from his hands, “HA~!”

Sokka’s eyes widen, stunned at how fast I stole the book, sticking my tongue at him.

It was like Zuko never entered the room.

Sokka and I bickered back and forth like toddlers unable to share a damn toy. Our faces were pink, not taking the time to breathe between words, let alone sentences.

“For fucks sakes, it’s way too early in the morning to deal with this,” Zuko grumbled under his breath, and I turned my gaze back to my handsome man.

He strolled over to the closet, patting down his face with the towel dangling over his shoulders. I fought the urge to drool over the sight – let’s not check out Zuko with Sokka in the room. Just as fast as Zuko entered the closet, he walked out, grabbing a set of clothing– those are some extravagant clothing he picked.

Every piece of clothing Zuko owned was stunning, made of the most delicate fabrics. But as he threw a new outfit onto the bed indolently, I saw the golden shimmers that illuminated under the morning sun and the beautifully sewed dragons.

Sokka opened his mouth to argue, and I just slapped his head with my notebook, muffling his cries. “Zuko, why are you dressing up? Is there a meeting?” I asked, raising my voice so Zuko could hear me over Sokka’s squeals. He perked up, shooting me a look of disbelief.

“Wow, won’t you look at that. Now my Imperial Consort acknowledges my existence.” He sarcastically spoke. I rolled my eyes at Zuko, bouncing off Sokka’s chest. Ignoring Sokka and his angry rant, I skipped towards Zuko, “You know I love you, Zuko~.”

“Mhmm – it seems you love me the most during the night when you need a heater.”

“…I’m not going to deny that.” I giggled, and right away, Zuko shot me a glare. A harmless glare, because I saw the grin that fought to emerge.

“I advise you, and Sokka, change soon. I don’t think you want to be dressed in your nightclothes when she arrives.”

Huh? She?

“You’re talking about Katara? Isn’t she arriving tonight-” Sokka budded in, and I noticed he had the plate of leftover cookies in hand, chewing away. Zuko nodded his head, his amber eyes settling over me, “I got word they’re at Ember Island at the moment, taking a little break. They should arrive in the next hour or two.”

My face flushed, clapping excitedly.

“She’s almost here!” I gushed, turning on my heel to face Sokka. For the moment, the fact that he was reading my diary, and was about to kill Zuko was lost to the wind – both us animated at the thought of seeing Katara again.

“Sokka, get out so I can change! I need to take a bath.”

“I know you do, you stink.”

“I swear Sokka-” I hissed under my breath, and just as quick as Sokka was to tease, he stepped forward, his playful grin shifting to a tender smile. His fingers brushed through the tangled strands of hair that fell over my face, combing them out of the way. My body relaxed and a lax smile of my own emerging at the gentle gesture.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Princess.” He whispered under his breath, and I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. “Thanks for checking up on me, and the cookies…I missed you…even if you annoy me.”

Sokka grinned, flicking my forehead, “I’m always here, Princess...and…I’m taking the cookies with me.” He turned on his heel, shouting his goodbyes to Zuko before I could fight for my right to indulge in those tempting sweets. The pace at which he bee-lined for the exit, the door shutting behind him in one fluid motion, was unmatchable – leaving Zuko and me alone.

My shoulders dropped, a content sigh escaping me – I’m happy.

“Love?”

My eyes widen, turning to see Zuko with those enticing eyes. He titled his head to the side, nudging towards the bathroom. An innocent giggle escaped me, already knowing what my dear Zuko was asking.

“Give me a minute to grab some clothes-”

“Already picked a dress for you.” I couldn’t hide my surprised expression even if I tried. “You did? I didn’t see you grab anything-”

“I will after our bath. Although naked sounds like a tempting option, I must say.” Zuko sheepishly spoke, laughing under his breath as he waltzed towards me. His arms wrapped around my waist, gazing down at me with a broad smile. My hands fell over his chest, feeling his pulse under my touch.

“Sokka says I stink…clearly; he didn’t smell you.” I teased, and Zuko leaned in, playfully biting my nose. His teeth grazed my skin, and I giggled at his childish behaviour. It will repeatedly take me off guard how utterly spiritedly Zuko could be – a trait that didn’t seem to pop up often, even with the others.

“Mmm, stinky and stinky.” He muttered under his breath, “We make a good pair.”

“Soon, we’ll be clean and clean.” I bantered back, enjoying the dimpled smile that shined brightly on Zuko’s face.

“What were you and Sokka fighting about?” Zuko asked, his lips pecking my forehead, still holding me close to his body – making no move to head to the bathroom. I groaned to myself, letting my head plop onto his chest with a thud, recalling what had happened.

“That bum read my diary! It was so embarrassing!” I blew.

“You know…” Zuko spoke, and I heard the dip in his voice.

My head snapped upwards, and I wasn’t astounded to see that shit-eating smirk flicker upon those sinful lips. The way my heart pounded, expression naïve hearing and seeing the way Zuko licked his lips mischievously, leaning too close for comfort.

“I must say – my favourite part is when you write about how much you adore my voice.” Zuko mused, and at that moment – my cheeks turned a red that not even Zuko’s flames could match.

My mouth dropped, babbling nonsense as I slapped Zuko’s chest hard – as if I could slap the awkwardness out of me. But Zuko didn’t seem the slightest bit flustered; instead, he looked down at me with a glowing grin. I can’t believe this asshole-

“Does NO ONE understand the concept of PRIVACY!?” I squealed, puffing as I grumbled under my breath. “I can’t believe you read my diary! You’re just as annoying as Sokka!”

“Who said I read your diary, love?” I frowned, staring at Zuko with confusion, “You-you just said that you knew-” Zuko grinned mischievously, the tips of his fingers tickling my jaw, shutting me up.

“Oh, my sweet love. I didn’t read your diary. Just a lucky guess.”

“You were bluffing-”

“Nice to know what you think of my voice, although-” Zuko smirked, planting a deceitfully sweet kiss on my nose, “I can’t say that I am surprised.” I stood there, rattled, cheeks a flaming red - Zuko always seemed to know.

That prideful smirk of his didn’t vanish, his delicate fingers leaving my face, arm no longer hugging me close. His welcomed warmth left my body, smugly stepping back, taking in my flustered appearance to the fullest.

“Shall we get into our bath, love?” he spoke calmly, it was maddening.

“I’m going to drown you,” I complained under my breath, watching the way Zuko confidently strolled towards the bathroom. But being the oh-so-famous man he was, Zuko shrugged off the threat with ease.

His long fingers untied his loose bun, looking over his shoulder with a playful grin, “I can think of ten other things I would rather do in that tub than drown.”

“Zuko~!”

“And that’s exactly what I indeed to hear from those pretty lips of yours, baby.”

“Everything is set for Katara’s arrival, Fire Lord Zuko.”

“Including the extra guard?”

“Yes, Fire Lord. They are at their post.”

Zuko huffed under his breath, nodding at the servants' words, although I couldn’t help but notice how empty his tone sounded. My eyes shifted from the chaos before me, feeling the way Zuko was moving his arm, which I tightly hugged. The moment I tilted my head upwards, an amused smile painted my lips. What a manchild-

The golden stings that decorated Zuko’s sleeves seemed to have unravelled.

I watched as he puckered, failing miserably at tying the adornment with one hand. The fabric slipped from between his fingers, and it may have been the first time, I dare say, that Zuko was unelegant. For a man with such a soft touch and long delicate fingers – you would have thought he had tree stumps as digits at the way he wriggled.

“Fire Lord Zuko – let me.” I hummed.

I grasped his arm, tugging him closer to myself as I tied the flimsy strings together. No wonder he was struggling – it was silk. A small huff, and a tongue biting moment later – I quickly began tying.

Our pace of walking slowed without me realizing, and I couldn’t help but smile pridefully at how adorable my little knot was. While cute was not synonymous with Zuko for the majority of the population – it was in my books. What was there not to label cute about Zuko?

“Mmm, what would I do without my lovely Imperial Consort?” Zuko droned into my ear, a deep huskiness causing my cheeks to flush. I could hear the teasing tone with every word, but that didn’t change the touch of truth in his statement. The guards and servants around us giggled softly, overhearing the teasing banter, causing my cheeks to deepen in colour.

I looked upwards, not expecting to see Zuko as close as he was. It reminded me of the events that happened just a few days ago, us laughing like children down the hallway, close and snuggled. That’s right, Izumi was the name we settled on…

The way his eyes smiled at me, inspecting the way my touch left his sleeves, opting to embrace his arm close to my body. For a moment in time, I found myself speechless. Zuko looked handsome today, breathtaking. Was that unusual? Not at all – but Zuko made my skin tingle, butterflies fluttering, and breath gone.

“You would be lost – that’s what you would be.” I chirped back, biting my lips with a tone to match his. The way Zuko’s eyes lit up, surprised that I decided to amuse him. His lips began to move, ready to spit out some witty retort, but the sound of a servant clearing his throat beat him to it.

“Fire Lord Zuko, you have a lunch date planned today with your mother, in the gardens. I assume you wish to cancel?”

A lunch date? How sweet! It’s been a while since Zuko and Ursa have spent some time together. But rather than lighting up the way Zuko usually does at the mere mention of Ursa, he pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. I pouted, observing his evident annoyance, not seeming as content to hear of such a plan like me.

“She’s going to kill me for canceling again- Yes, please cancel-” Zuko hissed under his breath. He can’t be serious-

“Zuko.” I huffed, tugging on his arm without thinking. In a flash, everyone turned their attention to me – and I mentally slapped myself for doing such an act in public. But I pushed aside the regret, focusing on the matter at hand.

“You aren’t really going to cancel your afternoon plans with Ursa, are you?” I whisper shouted, looking at Zuko with wide eyes. His lips puckered at my words, shooting me a look that screamed, ‘what else am I suppose to do?’

I swear- this man really is lost without me at times.

“We arrived here almost a week ago, and you’ve haven’t seen your family once. They’re worried.” I reasoned, and Zuko sighed, gazing around us in frustration. The guards got the hint. They awkwardly turned their looks away, walking briskly in front of us, giving us plenty of space to talk without anyone overhearing.

“I know that Yue, but when Katara lands, we need to discuss-” Zuko hissed under his breath, lips pressed as he tried to hush his tone. “Zuko.” I pleaded, shaking my head, tightening my hold.

The large doors that lead outside, where we landed with Appa, was coming into view. I spotted a dash of green running through the doors, most likely Suki. That means everyone is already there, waiting for Katara’s arrival.

“I’ve been here for how long, and I only got to share one moment with you in those gardens. One walk – don’t do the same thing with your mom. She misses you.” I begged, and right away, Zuko’s stern look shifted to that of genuine regret. His cheeks flushed, stripping his gaze away from mine, his lips twisted to a frown.

“You know how to make a man feel guilty,” Zuko grumbled under his breath as he strode forward, but I tugged on his arm harshly. He’s trying to run away from his feelings. We abruptly stopped dead in our tracks, turning on his heel to look down at me with narrowed eyes. Zuko wasn’t upset with me – he just sucks at expressing himself.

Zuko was more of a family man than he let on. He would do anything for them, but it was like he was afraid to admit how much he cared. How much he thought about them and enjoyed their presence. I wasn’t a fool; I caught the sweet stares he sent to his mom or Uncle Iroh, enjoying their company, even if it was just for a few seconds.

“What I’m trying to say is this-” I muttered softly, upset that I caused that frown to rise. “We’ve survived this long without someone attacking us. I think the gang would understand and can wait a few more hours before our meeting. Katara is probably exhausted as well; she could use some rest…” I hummed.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I could spot the servants studying us, curious as to why we halted. I let my hands rest over Zuko’s forearms, squeezing as I smiled up at him, “You’re a man of work, Zuko. And I love that, but don’t forget that you have a family too...”

“I knew it was a bad idea to let Uncle Iroh and mom keep you company…they taught you their ways of getting to my mind.” Zuko mumbled under his breath, but I spotted that gentle smile of his starting to shine through – my sun.

“When are you going to learn that I’m always the one in control?” I teased, and in a flash, Zuko gripped my hands tightly. My heart pounded loudly, blood pumping as I watched as Zuko brought my hands to his lips, placing sweet pecks all over my palms.

“Mmm, I don’t deny such a truth, I pride myself in it.” he snickered, before stealing one last caress. “Let’s go, baby. Based on the ruckus outside, and dirt flying everywhere, it seems like Katara has arrived.”

“I’m so excited, Zuko. I missed her-”

“Oh, I’m very much aware of how excited you are. All night you were squirming around in your sleep. It felt like I was cuddling a worm.” Zuko laughed, and I blushed. This tease- I pulled my grip away, playfully punching his chest, not at all caring that we were not in the private confines of our bedroom.

“Watch yourself, love – you wouldn’t want to get arrested now.” Zuko grinned, and I scoffed.

“We both know that the guards love me more than you. So if you, Sir, don’t want to get put into cuffs, I advise you be careful.” I smugly retorted, and it was then and there I knew I was treading in dangerous waters.

The large gap between us felt far too small, watching the way Zuko’s lips twisted to a naughty smirk that had my stomach in knots.

He leaned forward, his lips grazing my jaw, his hot breath tickling the skin at the base of my neck. That alone had my breath hitching, and the incontrollable response had Zuko clicking his tongue in amusement. His alluring scent had my head spinning, knees on the verge of buckling at his mere presence. But it was Zuko’s damn voice that had me teetering on edge. Fuck him-

“Mhmm, we both know that you would look delicious in a pair of cuffs, baby. And while I would never think of using such means, ‘cause you’re such a good girl, I’m not against the idea.”

“Zuko-” I gulped, my hands bunching the fabric of my dress in my hands. I could feel my palms getting sweaty, realizing I’ve been holding my breath the whole time. And at the mere sound of my voice, Zuko let out a low groan in my ear, tilting his head back as he licked his lips. The way his eyes fluttered closed for a moment, rolling back – was it because of me?

“There you go again, love. Saying my name in that needy tone of yours – it drives me mad.” He purred, and my eyes widened. Does no one see this, hear this? I anxiously shifted my gaze around us, scared that someone would see what was happening. I can’t continue breaking royal rules. I need just one day. One day where I go without breaking a damn rule.

But my resolved cracked.

The guards and servants were far more interested in watching the arrival of Appa through the windows, talking amongst themselves than what was going on between us. They have no clue; they’re completely oblivious-

“Come on, baby, let me hear the sweet voice of yours again.” Zuko toyed, catching my attention. His lips brushed against my jaw once again, a hand falling on the dip of my back. I couldn’t help it – his lips are so close to mine, and no one is watching.

One kiss. One kiss is all I want-

“THANK THE FUCKING GODS I AIN’T THE ONLY ONE LATE.”

If Zuko wasn’t holding on my waist the way he was now, I would’ve fallen on my face.

We pushed off each other, the looks of two people who got caught painted on our faces. But just like that, Zuko collected himself. His touch left me, crossing his arms with a scowl on his face as he watched Sokka dash towards us in a mad sprint.

Why is Sokka-

Sokka’s thick brown hair reflected off the sunlight, droplets of water flying as he ran like a sprinkler. His hands were desperately working on the white buttons that decorated his navy blue top, flaunting his exposed torso to us. Are his shoes on the opposite feet?

“Sokka? Why are you-” I whispered, but Zuko blew loudly, finishing off my train of thought. “A bloody mess? Come on, man, you’re leaving a fucking trail of water, and you aren’t even a Waterbender.” I stifled in a laugh because Zuko was totally right. There was a damn pond now in the kingdom, courtesy of Sokka.

But Sokka grinned largely, not at all bothered by Zuko’s expression of disappointment. Aang and Sokka, I think the only two people who are immune to Zuko’s glares. Even I would cower away from such a stare.

“I had to shower, and Suki had to shower too, and one thing led to another-”

My cheeks flushed, and before I knew it, my hands fell over my ears, shutting my eyes and trying to push the mental image away. “Too much details Sokka!” I shouted, twisting on my heels, and Sokka let out a petty laugh.

“HA. Oh yeah, cause that diary didn’t have too much information, Princess.” I frowned, hands falling on my hips as Sokka came to a halt beside us, closing the last button of his top. Oh, I swear, I’m going to kill Sokka-

“You didn’t have to read my diary, dummy!” I shouted, and I could hear Zuko sigh beside us.“Why is my best friend, a fucking idiot?” Zuko mumbled, his arm snaking around my waist.

“AWW MAN, I’m you’re best friend?” Sokka spoke, beaming like a child towards Zuko, and I found my jaw-dropping. Out of everything Zuko said, all he got was ‘friend’?

“You’re an idiot,” Zuko spoke, a touch of genuine fear in his voice. I couldn’t help but snort, shaking my head as I brushed my hair behind my ears, looking forward. But it still doesn’t explain why Sokka is late.

“We just saw Suki a few moments ago, Sokka,” I spoke, observing him. He had an elastic between his teeth, his hands frantically brushing his hair to a messy bun.

“Yeah, well, as I said, we had to shower. I was just getting in, and she was just finishing.” Sokka mumbled between clenched teeth. With a free hand, he grabbed the hair tie, wrapping his hair in a somewhat presentable hair-do. “I still think I have shampoo in my hair…” Sokka grumbled under his breath.

Who needs a damn child when you can have Sokka? I rolled my eyes, reaching forward as I watched the way Sokka struggled to put on the coat that he had swung over his shoulder. I’m surprised it didn’t fall off during his mad sprint towards us. I reached forward, fingers grazing the rough material, only for an animated shout to catch our attention.

“Come on, slow-pokes! She’s here!”

My eyes widen, looking in front of us. Suki’s head was popping through the grand doors. She was free of her Kyoshi warrior outfit, opting for a natural look. Her eyes matched the sweet smile of hers, her green dress flowing in the light breeze outside. Her brown hair bobbed back and forth as she eagerly bounced in her spot in excitement.

“Some siblings you are – both of you guys are late.” She laughed before shutting the door behind her. Katara is here! In a flash, I gazed up to Zuko with doe eyes, ready to babble in anticipation, but I found myself stopping. The smile on Zuko’s face – it didn’t reach his eyes.

I’m an idiot.

“Come on; Katara’s going to give us a damn lecture if she doesn’t see us in the next ten seconds.” Sokka huffed, striding ahead of us. Zuko merely nodded, the arm wrapped around my waist thrusting me forward to match Sokka’s pace.

Zuko didn’t utter a word; he just kept his gaze forward as we walked towards the doors. His lips were pressed tight despite the smile on his face. It was those fake smiles of his, I’ve seen them before whenever he was tired, or annoyed but had to show face in the name of politics.

Zuko and Katara.

I never did ask, but did they ever talk about what happened in the Southern Water Tribe? Things just happened so fast, and as reasonable as Zuko was, he was as stubborn as Katara could be petty.

Did they make-up, did Katara apologize to Zuko? Zuko flat out admitted he wanted Katara to help heal me, but was it because he trusted her, or because he was desperate to see me better?

The servants in front of us quickly opened the door for us, and for a split moment, I saw the slight scowl on Zuko’s face.

Zuko…

Awkward was a word I would have never used to describe Katara’s and my relationship.

We were many things – but above all, we were sisters despite not sharing the same blood. It was funny; she was born in November, me in July, the same year, but she was more of a big sister to me than I was to her. She just had this motherly aura about her, even making Zuko seem like a child to us all.

A silence fell over us as we stood side by side.

My fingers twirled around each other as we walked along the hallway, me admiring the view of the gardens before us. It was a beautiful day, the sunlight shining, the flowers seemingly reaching their peak in beauty. I could only imagine the sweet scents the flowers were producing should we have been walking outside instead.

Awkward.

The others were busy working on their tasks, Aang with his new Nation, Sokka, Toph, and Suki regarding a battle plan. And Zuko- I smiled. I could see him and Ursa, sitting under the large cherry blossom tree that towered above all. The pink blossoms created a blanket-like cover for Zuko and Ursa to sit on, something straight out of a fairytale.

Even from here, I could see the contentment on Ursa’s face as Zuko poured her some tea. But the same emotion was evident on his, and while I couldn’t prove it, I was certain that those heart-throbbing dimples of his were most likely present on his face.

Katara carefully brushed a brown braid behind her ear, her fingers playing with the flimsy envelope in her arms. I figured she would’ve used the time Zuko is spending with his mother to rest, but instead, she said she wanted to spend some time with me. I was beyond delighted to hear her say that, but now that she was here-

Awkward.

Why were things so awkward between us right now?

The sound of Zuko’s laughter caught my attention, a tinge of pink dusting my cheeks. His smile was wide as he shook his head in amusement, his mother nodding eagerly as she spoke. The way Zuko studied his mom, listening to her every word like it was gold. He loved his mother to the moon and back; there wasn’t a doubt about it.

“You and Zuko…you two seem happy.” Katara hummed softly, the first one to speak in the awkward silence that somehow managed to fall between us. I froze, unable to move my feet as I sharply turned to stare at Katara.

Her blue eyes were round and filled with admiration, a genuine smile on her face. “Suki was right; you do stare at him a lot.” My mouth dropped, cheeks flaring up as I found myself speechless. Katara’s smile soon turned to an almighty grin, laughing at the reaction she got out of me, “Has Sokka declared himself as the ‘almighty cockblock’ yet?”

I snorted, “The first week.”

“He’s so overprotective.”

“Tell me about it, that dummy read my diary today!”

“He did not.” Katara huffed, her cheeks matching my red ones once I told her the news. But as the words left her mouth, I noticed how close we had gotten. Both of our bodies were leaned towards each other, eagerly talking as if the awkward silence that was consuming us never happened.

The awkwardness…

“Yue…?”

“Katara…”

“I missed you.”

At her final words, I found my arms quickly flying over her shoulders, a happy smile painting my face. “I missed you, too, Katara,” I whispered, not at all caring that I was wrinkling the important paper pressed against her chest. Katara let out a giggle as she snuggled her head into my neck, cuddling me back to the best of her abilities without dropping the letter.

The awkwardness was not because of some ill feelings, but because we didn’t know where to start.

I’ve never been away from Katara and Sokka before; it was usually them leaving me for work. But now…it was different. This wasn’t a matter or us leaving for a few weeks or months and coming back. I lived here now, forever, this was my new home.

My new life with Zuko.

“It’s been so long; I don’t even know where to start.” I gushed as we pulled away. Having her in my arms briefly, I noticed that not much had changed between us despite the time. The only reason difference is that while she wore blue, I wore red.

But she’s still my exasperating sister.

“Well, you can start with, you know.” Katara laughed, wiggling her eyebrows towards the window. I blushed, looking over my shoulder, and at that moment, Zuko’s eyes locked with mine.

It didn’t matter that we were a distance away from each other. The fire that ignited in me the moment Zuko’s gaze settled over mine was undeniable. He shot me a devilish smile as he tilted his head cockily. The way his ember eyes studied me, it was like he was looking into my soul – leaving me gasping and knees shaky. And just like that, he turned back to his mom, resuming his conversation.

Oh, this man, the definition of sin itself.

“Where do I even start?” I breathed, hands falling over my chest to get my heartbeat under wraps. But despite the flustered state, Zuko seemed always to leave me in; I couldn’t pull my eyes away. Gosh, Yue. You’re literally creeping him through the damn window.

Have you really stooped that low? Yes, yes, I have, and I have no regrets.

The confidence that seemed to ooze from him without a single effort, how did Ursa manage to give birth to such a fine specimen like him? Those pouty lips, long fingers, his hot breath along my neck-

“Yue, do you love Zuko?” Katara blurted, cutting my thoughts in half.

I jumped in my spot, my whole body heating up in embarrassment. Not only did Katara just catch me gawking at Zuko within minutes of her arriving here, but she also didn’t know. Everything that has happened between us; the kisses, sweet confessions, she didn’t know a single thing.

“The way you’re staring at Zuko, the way he looks at you…it’s just like Aang and me; it’s …love.”

“I-”

“Do you-do you love him, Yue?” Katara sternly spoke, stepping forward. Her hands fell over my shoulders, her fingers digging into my dress with a serious expression. I nervously bit my lip, trying to understand her sudden outburst, but the expression she wore was serious. I swallowed hard, nodding my head.

“I love him, Katara. More than anything in the world.”

“I can’t believe it…” She whispered under her breath.

I pouted, tilting my head to try to comprehend her words. Was she…was she mad? But Katara just snickered, her shoulders slumping in ease as she shook her head. “Zuko didn’t need someone to break down his walls; he needed someone to help him rebuild.” She muttered to herself. What is she talking about-

“I’m so happy, Yue; I’m so happy you found each other.” She exclaimed. “Dad has been worried sick about you; I can’t wait till I tell him how happy you are.”

Hakoda-

“How is dad, Katara?” I questioned, and Katara shot me a sad smile. It was something that ate away at me. I still remember the look on his face when I told him I was leaving with Zuko. He tried to play it off cool, saying how he was happy that I was leaving the nest, spreading my wings again. But I could still remember the small sniffle that I heard the moment I shut the door behind me to leave.

“He’s good, but sad…he misses you. Keeps on saying how his daughters are being swept off their feet.” Katara spoke as I let my gaze wander back to the window. Ursa was standing tall, dusting off her dress with a happy smile that reached her eyes. But Zuko was nowhere in sight.

“But, he has you at home, at least,” I replied.

“About that…” I frowned at her tone, pulling my gaze away from the gardens and back to Katara. She let out a heavy sigh, shuffling back and forth between her feet. “Dad has been acting weird lately,”

Dad was always weird; that was a fact, but for Katara to say it spoke plenty. He was a serious man, for the most part, but Sokka got his playfulness from someone. And it didn’t take long to learn from who it was.

“Dad has been pushing at the thought of Aang and me finding a home for ourselves.”

“He’s thinking about your future.” I tried to reason, but Katara shook her head. “That’s what I thought, but since you left, he’s been insistent. Keeps saying that I’m an adult now, that I have to think of the bigger picture. And…”

“And?” I pushed, and I spotted the way Katara’s cheeks flushed.

Katara was blushing.

She hugged her body, eyes darting side to side before she finally found her voice. Katara and Aang have been together for years – it took a lot to make Katara blush. This is going to be good.

“A few months ago, I saw Aang talking to Dad in his office. But whenever I bring it up, Aang says he wasn’t there – when I saw him. I even confronted Dad about it, but he denies everything.” I rose a brow, trying to piece together what Katara was telling me.

Why Would Dad lie about that, better yet – Aang doesn’t lie. Aang is the definition of purity, never uttering a lie or harming a soul. For Aang to lie to Katara…

“I think…I think Aang may propose to me, Yue.”

“Oh my gosh, Katara-”

“And I wanna say yes!” She blurted, her hands falling over her mouth at her honest confession. I couldn’t stop the squeals, jumping in my spot at the thought of Katara and Aang tying the knot. The first marriage in the gang!

“Katara, I’m so HAPPY!” I chirped, clapping like a fool at the thought, and that just seemed to worsen Katara’s blush. “I love him, Yue. We won’t have kids for a few years, we agreed on that, we’re both too busy with our jobs. But we’ve always wanted to be married. But maybe I’m overthinking things?”

“Overthinking? KATARA. He went to Dad, and now Dad is trying to find a house for you~! He’s going to propose!”

“Have you heard anything funny from Sokka, or maybe Zuko? Maybe Zuko would know what Aang is thinking. Aang always says how Zuko is his best friend; he would know something, right?” Katara insisted, and I thought.

She had a point.

Just like how I spilled my guts to Suki or Kima, the guys would do the same with each other. But I never heard anything from Zuko…but he’s good at keeping secrets, Yue. I huffed, that’s right. Which means…if I want to find something I have to do a little bit of snooping.

I grinned, “Leave it to me. Sokka doesn’t call me a curious cat for nothing!” Katara frowned, shaking her finger at me, “Don’t go doing anything stupid, Yue. I don’t want you to get in trouble with Zuko because of me.”

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms, “Zuko wouldn’t dare, I have him wrapped around my finger.”

“I can’t believe it, Yue. You really tamed the untamable.” Katara spoke in amazement, shaking her head as she watched over me. I smiled proudly, shifting my attention back outside. Ursa was calmly sitting under the tree again, a book in her lap as her eyes scanned back and forth. Smart woman, enjoying the warmth to the fullest.

But Zuko still wasn’t there. Where did he go? He was just there a moment ago-

“Looking for someone, love?”

I jumped, a pair of arms snaking their way around my body. The heat emitted from his touch had me purring, snuggling against the hard torso pressed against my back. Zuko nuzzled his face into my neck, his hands firmly planting themselves on my waist as he hummed pleasantly in my ear. “Mm, how is my baby?” he droned, his lips nibbling my skin before stopping abruptly.

His body tensed, and I saw the way Katara’s eyes widen in surprise. Zuko pulled his face away from me, standing tall, fingers digging into my skin.

“Katara.” He spoke bluntly, but I could feel the coldness in his tone. I’m right. He was upset with her still, and Katara seemed to notice it too. Katara’s lips pressed tight, taking a deep breath as she nodded her head, “Zuko.”

Awkward – this was what real awkwardness feels like.

The tension in the room was thick, Katara’s blue eyes locked with Zuko’s golden ones. “How was your lunch with Ursa, Zuko?” I blurted, trying to ease the tension, it was unbearable.

“Great.” He hissed, and I stiffened. This is bad, really bad.

Do something, Yue.

Do something-

“I forgot to give these papers to you earlier, Zuko. These are from the Earth Nation.” Katara spoke, and Zuko’s eyes narrowed.

“How did you receive it?” He asked, and Katara cleared her throat before answering. “Ember Island. The Earth King sent this there, thinking you were still residing in your vacation home. But I was told it was urgent and they sent it with me. Faster with Appa. It’s to be opened as soon as possible.”

Zuko merely nodded, not saying anything else. Zuko not speaking was scarier than him yelling. Katara outstretched her arm, Zuko meeting halfway as he touched the envelope. The flimsy document looked small in Zuko’s hands, but as his fingers curled, ready to take it, Katara's voice stopped him.

“Actually, I thought Yue could take it to your study.”

“Why? I can do it myself; we’re on our way there now-”

“I-I want to talk, just us, for a minute, Zuko,” Katara exclaimed, and I noticed the way her voice wavered. Her eyes met mine, almost pleading with me to go along, and I nodded. Before Zuko would say anything else, I reached forward, taking the paper from their grasps. I looked upwards, shooting Zuko a sweet smile, “I’ll meet you at the study with the gang. Be quick!”

I could hear Zuko click his tongue, and like water, I slipped from his grasp.

Temptation ate away at me, swiftly gazing over my shoulder at the two, and they were exactly where I left them seconds ago. They stood across each other, a large frown on Zuko’s face as Katara took a deep breath. And as I turned the corner, I found myself stopping for a moment.

“What do you want, Katara? We have stuff we need to discuss-” Zuko grumbled under his breath, undoubtedly pinching the bridge of his nose.

I knew it was wrong.

I knew I shouldn’t listen, eavesdrop. But it was like no matter how hard I tried; I couldn’t move. I wanted to know what Katara wanted to talk so desperately to Zuko about. I wanted to know what Katara wanted with Zuko. Was she going to ask Zuko about the marriage thing? But the words that flew from Katara’s mouth had me holding my breath.

“I want to say I’m sorry.”

Silence.

I bolted as fast as I could, a goofy smile on my face.

Katara had guts.

And while Katara was undoubtedly hard-headed like Zuko, the friendship between Zuko and her was far more important than her ego. Thank you Katara, Zuko really needed to hear that.

“What’s taking them so loooonnngggggg~.” Toph complained under her breath, lounging on the rug that covered the floor of Zuko’s office. Her hands were comfortably tucked behind her head; legs crossed over each other as she impatiently blew. Should she have been a Firebender, I was certain there would have been flickers of fire leaving her lips, much like Zuko.

I giggled, shrugging my shoulders as I happily sat in Zuko’s grand chair. It was super comfy, might I add. The padding was making it feel like I was sitting on a cloud. No wonder Zuko didn’t mind doing paperwork, I would to if it meant sitting on a comfy chair like this.

My curious eyes wandered about, scanning the array of documents that decorated his study. There were so many projects happening under Zuko’s care, notes filled with his scribbles containing details. But as interesting as everything was, I was more fascinated by the green document that I brought here.

While it was light, the envelope was thick; the Earth Nation seal prettily stamped in the center with ivory coloured wax. A letter from the Earth King…I wonder what it is about? As if the emerald green hypnotized me, I found my mind wandering.

I wonder how Kayto was?

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t wipe the image of the happy smile on his face as he walked away from me. The cherry blossoms falling around him in the sweet breeze, how clear his eyes seemed that day. Even his steps seemed lighter than air, practically hovering along the ground.

It was like he was a changed man…but despite the delighted smile on his face, my heart swelled with sorrow. There was something about that moment that had my eyes teary, something that made my stomach rise to my throat.

“I gotta say, Princess. You look good, sitting there. You look like a real Queen.” Sokka mused. I blushed at his words, pushing myself back in the chair. My gaze snapped forward, watching the way Sokka lounged in a chair that was placed in front of the desk we were currently huddled around.

“You really do, for someone as cute as you – you can look pretty scary when you focus.” Suki giggled in Sokka’s lap. I whined under my breath, shyly combing my hair in front of my chest, twirling the strands around. Me ruling a whole Nation? I could feel my whole body shaking.

The thought alone was beyond terrifying. How does Zuko do it? Thousands and thousands of people looking up to you for guidance. You’re the face of the Nation. The person people praise or curse. Overnight you can be the publics' favourite person, their beacon of hope, or their worst enemy.

“Sorry we’re late.”

Zuko busted through the door hastily, and I couldn’t help but smile. The tension in his shoulders was gone, his feet light as he beelined towards his study. He looked like a man on a mission – ready to get down to business. Katara coolly walked towards Aang, but even I could tell she seemed more at peace, her breathing calm.

They’re okay; they talked it out.

“FINALLY. Can we get this done and over with already?” Toph groused, sitting upright in a flash as she crossed her arms. Zuko rolled his eyes at Toph, merely walking where I sat. He placed a small peck on my forehead, earning a bashful smile from myself, before spotting the green document on his desk.

“Where do we even start?” I pondered under my breath as I watched Zuko. He leaned against his study, a hand combing through my locks as if to soothe himself, as he swore under his breath. The letter from the Earth King was dense – he’s going to have a fun read.

“Maybe with Kayto and the Earth King?” Suki proposed, but Toph gave her two cents. “Further. The waterfall. That’s where Yue first saw Azula and Yakone.”

“Azula? Yakone?” Katara gasped, Aang nodding his head as he ran his hands up and down her, comforting. “You’re all wrong,” I announced before realizing what I had said. Right away, Zuko’s attention shifted to me, eyes narrowed as the grip he had on the paper tightened.

“What do you mean that we’re wrong? You said you saw Azula at the waterfall.” Zuko spoke, a certain edge in his voice. I puffed, “You’re right, but that’s not the first time I saw her.”

“You lied? Why would you lie about that-”

I frowned at Zuko, realizing that he thought I was hiding information. “Yeah, Princess. Why would not tell Zuko you saw Azula?” Sokka butted, leaning forward, nearly pushing Suki off him. Her hands fell against the study, catching herself, shooting Sokka a glare.

“Because I didn’t know it was her!” I puffed, throwing my arms up in the air frustratingly. As much as I was part of the gang now, they seemed to forget that I wasn’t friends with them as long as they have been. “I didn’t know it was her! You don’t think if I knew, I would’ve said something? She disguised herself as a maid. I didn’t know better.”

“Did you not tell Yue about Azula, Zuko?” Aang asked gently, and I saw the flustered look on Zuko’s face. His gaze shifted back to the fancy writing of Earth King, grumbling under his breath. “N-no.”

“It’s not Zuko’s fault; he doesn’t have to tell me about that.” I started, but Zuko slammed the paper on the desk. I was startled, not at all expecting the outburst of anger. His forehead was scrunched together, a scowl on his face as he stared the crimpled paper.

“It is my fault; I should’ve been smarter; I let my guard down. I figured Azula was no longer an issue – stupid wishful thinking.” Zuko hissed under his breath.

“Zuko…” I hummed softly. My hand fell over his forearm, giving him a gentle squeeze. “I should’ve told you about the maid. I was stupid…I didn’t want to worry you.”

“But I already worry.” He ranted.

“Oh, for fucks sakes, talk about your damn feelings another time!” Toph swore loudly, standing upright as she stomped her feet on the ground. She swiftly shifted her posture, her head in the direction of Katara.

“Look here, Sugar Queen, this is what is going to happen. I’m going to tell the damn details, and everyone can keep their mouths shut till the end. Got it?”

I found myself zipping my mouth shut, Sokka nodding his head frantically, hearing Toph’s stern voice. Aang straightened up his posture, Zuko shooting Toph an amused look, seeing her take charge. “Please go on, Toph. Saves my breath.” Zuko muttered, before raising the documents back to view.

And boy, did Toph tell the story, alright.

It was an experience I didn’t know I needed to experience until today. I figured Toph would gloss over everything, cutting corners due to her unsurprisingly impatient nature, but I was pleasantly surprised.

Despite her blunt and quick to the point, attitude, she hit the nail in every aspect. She didn’t leave behind a single detail, Katara’s eyes growing wider and wider by the second. In fact, even though most of us were there to experience the whole ordeal, we found ourselves silent. Who knew Toph could be a fantastic public speaker when she wanted to be? She would make an amazing investigator.

Zuko’s hand went back to petting my hair, reading the documents sent from the Earth King, as Toph ranted. But his attention wavered when Katara spoke up.

“Azula burnt Aang?” Katara repeated, her hand softly caressing Aang’s arms. Aang shot her a caring smile, catching her hand with his, “Don’t worry about it, Sweetheart. I’m all healed.” I could tell Aang was trying his best to ease any concern of Katara, but I couldn’t blame her.

She was thrown into a pit of lions. Everything that happened, we’ve gotten to process one way or another over time, but Katara was learning about everything now. It was a shock, but Katara just huffed furiously at Aang, shaking her head in annoyance.

“And you- are you crazy?” She shouted; a slender finger pointed towards me. My jaw dropped, face going white as I saw the way her eyes narrowed heatedly. It reminded me of the times she would lecture Sokka and me whenever we got into trouble. “You fought Azula like in that state, you fought Yakone. You could’ve died Yue; your chi is all messed up. This is dangerous!” Katara lectured.

“I had to save them-”

“Aang could have gone in the Avatar state.” Katara retorted.

“He was tired.” I fought back, pushing myself off the chair. I knew Katara had a point. It was stupid of me, and this ‘flu’ I had, which was evidently something else, was worrying. It was dangerous for me to bend, but the thought of any of them getting hurt was scarier. “I had to save them. Yakone was going to kill them.”

“And this is why Bloodbenders are disgusting.” Katara spat, running a hand angrily through her locks. The outright hatred in her voice had my breathing hitching, not at all expecting those words to leave her mouth. But the way she spoke, it came naturally, like the fact that Bloodbenders were some vial creatures was a truth, not an opinion. Disgusting-

“Those are some strong words, Katara,” Aang said speedily, and Katara pursed her lips.

“You know how dangerous Bloodbending is. You can control someone without their consent. Kill them from the inside out.”

“That’s not true, Katara.” I blurted without much thought. Aang’s eyes widen at my comment, shooting me a warning glance, but Sokka spoke up before Katara could. “No offence, Princess, but as much as you are a lover, you have to admit. Bloodbending, that’s some next-level human shit right there.”

“If you can even call them human,” Katara grumbled under her breath. Sokka frowned at her comment, but regardless, he nodded his head in agreeance to her words.

“Honestly, they’re more like monsters to me. Manipulating blood? That’s disgusting and dark.” Suki added, shaking her head as she looked at Sokka. Suki was a warrior, but even I noticed the way her voice wavered at the thought of Bloodbending.

“Well, once we get rid of Yakone, no more Bloodbenders to worry about. Problem solved.” Toph grumbled, falling back onto the floor with a thud. She crossed her legs, resting her chin on her elbow as she listened to everyone trash talk.

“We shouldn’t speak ill about Bloodbending; we don’t know much about it…maybe it can be used for some good?” I reasoned, trying to add some positivity to the conversation, but Katara snuffed. “What good could Bloodbending possibility have?”

“M-maybe you can heal? Right, Yue? Maybe you can do some more powerful healing, better than regular Waterbending?” Aang proposed eagerly. His eyes were light, scanning the room desperately, wishing for someone to work with him. But Sokka shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know Aang. When you have that much power…it's tempting to do more evil than good, in my opinion.”

“But Aang is strong; he isn’t evil!” I retorted, hands falling on the study before me harder than I intended. Everyone jumped slightly at the sudden noise, but the beating of my heart in my chest was louder. “That’s like- that’s like saying that everyone with power is evil. That’s not true; there are plenty of good people with power.” I panicked, desperately trying to defuse the situation.

“Why do you care so much, Princess? Why are you trying to defend Bloodbenders? It’s like you feel bad for Yakone or something.” Toph huffed.

“That’s not what I’m trying to say.” I whimpered under my breath. What was I trying to say? It did sound like I was trying to defend Yakone. But that wasn’t it – hearing the way they disregarded a whole sub-bending skill because of a bad-bunch? What about all the good that came from Bloodbending during-

“The next thing you know, Princess over here is going to go give a hug to Yakone, maybe offer him some cookies.” Toph mocked under her breath. My lips puckered, eyes wide hearing the taunting tone in Toph’s voice.

“Watch it.”

For the first time, I heard Zuko speak. His voice was low, a deadly tone laced with his simple warning as his hand fell over my shoulder. I could feel the heat radiating from his palms. Zuko didn’t say a damn word during the whole conversation. Did he think Bloodbenders were monsters too? Despicable and less than human?

“It was a joke, Zuko. Relax.” Toph huffed, her bangs flying upwards for a moment before falling back over her eyes. “This isn’t a time for jokes. We have two wanted criminals, and damn spy inside the kingdom.” Zuko lectured, and Katara stepped forward.

“We’re just talking about Bloodbenders-”

“But why? Whether or not Bloodbenders are evil is beside the fucking point. We need to focus on the important things. Healing Yue, so her chi doesn’t kill her, and capturing Yakone to ensure the prosperity of the United Nations.”

“Zuko is right; we’re falling off track here,” Aang spoke, his voice sounding calmer. Zuko ran his hands through his bun, causing hairs to fall and frame his face. “We can pick up the rest tomorrow; we’re getting nowhere for today,” Zuko muttered under his breath.

Suki let out a sigh, standing off Sokka and outstretching a hand. He grabbed it, letting her pull his body upwards before wrapping an arm around her shoulders, “Fine. Let’s call it a day then. We can pick everything back up tomorrow in the morning.”

“Fine with me…” Toph grumbled before abruptly standing up. She kicked the air underneath her before storming out of the room without another word. Aang nodded meekly, bowing quickly towards Zuko and I. I saw the way he smiled at me sympathetically before linking arms with Katara. Pity.

The sound of their soft voices and feet pattering against the room was the last sound heard before the door shut behind them, leaving Zuko and me alone. The room suddenly felt far too large and lonely, missing the company of everyone, despite them being the cause of anxiousness.

I let out a shaky breath, hands rubbing my face roughly. Why did I have to say anything? I should have just agreed; I should have kept my mouth shut. They’re right-

Bloodbenders are monsters.

Disgusting creatures – less than humans.

I’m a mon-

“Love?” Zuko hummed softly, squeezing my shoulder and catching my attention. I jumped, hands falling onto my lap as I looked up at Zuko. I felt so jumpy today, uneasy, even around Zuko. But why? It was like darkness was looming over my head.

“S-sorry. I’ll go now so you can work. See you for dinner-”

“Wait.” Zuko breathed, and I noticed how soft his amber eyes appeared. The furious leader that called off the meeting was gone; only Zuko was here, no Fire Lord. “Let’s get out of here, love,” Zuko spoke tenderly, brushing my hair behind my ears as his fingers carefully traced my jaw. His touch had my body easing, breathing relaxing as I weakened under his touch.

“But your work-”

“Mother told me some interesting advice today during lunch.”

I bite my lips. That was random, even for my standards. But the look on Zuko’s face, he was serious. I opened my mouth before shutting it, unsure how to respond to his unexpected statement. “What…did she say” I clumsily questioned.

The way Zuko leaned into me, I could see my reflection in his eyes. He had such long eyelashes; I never did notice. I figured that the burn would’ve prevented much growth, much like his eyebrow, but that didn’t seem to be the case. His eyes were like endless pools of gold, flickers of sparks scattered randomly. The longer we stared into each other eyes, the larger his pupils dilated.

His thumb traced my bottom lip, Zuko biting his lips, “She told me to be selfish more often.”

I rose a brow at his words. “Selfish?”

“Mhmm…and I think…today I’m going to listen.”

“Which means…?” I pushed, and Zuko chuckled. “So impatient, curious.”

A flush coated my cheeks, but I couldn’t pull away from his grasp. Hypothesized by the intense stare, the way he rolled his bottom lip under his teeth as he cheekily studied me up and down. “I’m spoiling you rotten today. Care to go on a date with me? Ice cream for dinner?”

“Really? You aren’t playing around with me, are you?” I wisely asked, not trusting Zuko completely. He was not only a tease but a high-key sadist. Zuko sniggered, pinching my nose before planting a sweet kiss on my lips, “Of course, beautiful.”

Beautiful.

Zuko felt the way my body tensed at the word, and he pulled away. A painful frown suddenly emerged on his face, eyes watching over me, “What’s wrong, love?”

“Can a monster be beautiful?”

Zuko’s snorted, rolling his eyes at my unexpected remark. “You think I’m attractive, and I was called a monster my whole life…so I guess so. A monster can be beautiful.”

But Zuko was handsome – whoever called him a monster, they were wrong. He was a product of misfortune, who rebuilt themself, became something better. Zuko eyed my expression as I absentmindedly nodded at his words, but I wasn’t satisfied. Because that wasn’t the question, I really wanted to ask.

“Ask it, love. You’re itching to ask.” Zuko mused, seeing right through my act. And I did just that, asked him the question I wanted so desperately to know his answer for.

“Can you love a monster?”

“…the better question is, do you think a monster is worthy of love?”

Is it selfish for me to say yes?

Waking up to the beautiful smile of Zuko’s was the best way to start the day.

Our limbs were messily intertwined with each other; Zuko’s arms were hugging me close to his body. My face was flush against his chest; his hands combed through my locks. He was always so careful, not wanting to yank at a tangle, relishing the way the silky strands slid between his fingers.

“Mm, good morning, love,” Zuko whispered between hushed lips, pressing the top of my head with chaste kisses.

There was a certain raspiness in his voice that had me mewling, purring as I snuggled against his pec, hearing his steady heartbeat. His voice was low, almost drunk-like, as he let his lips brush by my temple for one last peck. “How did my baby sleep? Feeling better?” He hummed. I felt the way his hand trailed down my hair, following my spine, stopping at the hem of panties.

“Perfect, warm.”

“I should start charging you.” Zuko pestered, and I gazed upwards, a grin on his face. “A kiss per half hour?”

“That’s a pretty steep rate.” I bothered, and Zuko laughed.

“You’re right, just for you, I’ll give you a better rate.”

“So, there are others you warm like this?” I pouted, failing miserably to mask the bubble of jealousy that suddenly emerged. I knew that my statement was false; the thought of Zuko sneaking off and having some side affair was more of a joke than a possibility. He was far too devoted, too loyal to be the type to cheat.

But despite the obvious, Zuko smirked, “Of course not, baby, that’s why I’m giving you the best rate. For my one and only customer.”

“And what would that be?”

“Two kisses per half an hour.”

“Zuko, that’s even worse than the last rate you gave me!” I laughed noisily, snorting at Zuko’s logic. He chuckled, chest rumbling underneath me as he stole another kiss on my head. “You caught me red-handed, love.”

“I swear, one day I’m going to freeze you,” I grumbled under my breath, trying to hide the fact that I was enjoying this way too much. “Temperature play? You really are a kinky one.” Zuko teased, and I blushed.

“T-that’s not what I meant, Zuko!” I shrieked, infuriated that I let Zuko get a rise out of me this early in the morning. But the smile on Zuko’s face grew the more flustered I got, cheeks a baby pink as I blew. How can I stay mad at him when he looked so damn cute?

A knock on the door caught our attention, stopping our tantalizing banter short. Zuko shuffled, and I rolled over, letting him sit up. “Come in,” Zuko spoke loudly, the door creaking open just a bit. I pushed the heavy blankets off me, reaching for my robe and letting my arms slip through before standing up.

“Good morning Kim-oh.”

“My apologies, Fire Lord Zuko, Imperial Consort Ying Yue. Kima and Lia took the day off today; it seems they are tied up at the moment.” A lady spoke. My breath caught in my throat, staring blankly at the lady before us.

Her hair was short, highlighting her sharp angular facial features. Her eyes were tapered, a stunning violet colour, pupils like slits. A tea tray was carefully balanced in her grasp, as she thoughtfully walked forward. The whole time her eyes were locked with mine, a sinister smile on her face.

“I bring you your morning tea. To help with your illness, Imperial Consort, doctors' orders.” The lady spoke, a deliberate hiss towards the end. I felt myself on edge, unable to finish slipping my arm through my robe as I just stared.

“Thank you; you can leave it on my side,” Zuko spoke, snapping me out of my haze.

His coarse voice seemed to catch the lady’s attention, too, shifting her eyes to him, licking her lips without a care in the world. “As you wish, Fire Lord Zuko.” The way she purred out his name, the seductive tone, it had my skin crawling.

She shuffled forward, letting the tray fall on his nightstand with a loud clank. Hastily, I put on my robe, tying it to my body as if it was a layer of armour. “I’ll take my leave. Enjoy the tea.” She spoke, forcing a crazy smile on her face wicked, matching her eyes.

I observed her every step. She was light on her feet, and I noticed how ill-fitting her maid's clothes were. They were far too tight, highlighting her toned physic. With one last crooked smile, the door shut behind her, the air filling my lungs.

“Fucking weirdo,” Zuko muttered under his breath before reaching over his nightstand. He grabbed the ceramic teapot, pouring the hot liquid into a teacup. The steam filled the air, and his large hand cupped the small teacup before eyeing me, “Here, love.”

“Give me a minute; I’m going to brush my teeth. I feel yucky.” I glowered, and Zuko rolled his eyes. “Come on; I like your morning breath.” He teased cheekily, pulling the teacup back to his chest.

“Eww, you’re so gross, Zuko.” I giggled; the uneasiness of that maid’s presence long forgotten.

“Some would call that romantic,” Zuko shouted as I waltzed my way to the bathroom. I look over my shoulder, shooting him a look of disbelief. “The Almighty Fire Lord Zuko a romantic?” I said, biting my lips as I rose my brows.

Zuko hummed, bringing the teacup that he had originally poured for me to his lips. The way he looked over at me while taking a slow sip, “Mmmm, are you trying to say I’m not?” He challenged. But I saw the way his nose scrunched up for a moment, taking a whiff of the tea.

“This smells gross…and tastes just as bad.” Zuko muttered under his breath, and I rolled my eyes. “It’s medicine Zuko, my medicine, not some breakfast tea.”

“Tea is tea, but fuck – this is really gross.” Zuko groused, and I laughed at the way Zuko complained under his breath. Yet to my amazement, he took another swing. “You just said you don’t like it!” I snickered, shaking my head.

My hands pushed the bathroom door open, letting the natural light from the windows light the space. I winced slightly, feeling the cold tiles against my feet, wishing I made Zuko get ready first. His natural warmth always managed to heat the cold tiles.

“Yeah, but I don’t want it to go to waste.” I heard Zuko grumble loudly, voice sounding rougher than usual. “Zuko, don’t worry. I’ll drink it all.” I reasoned, searching for the toothpaste. Where was it? My eyes frantically scanned the marble counter, spotting our toothbrushes, face towels, cleansers.

“Hey, Zuko. Did we finish the toothpaste?” I asked, my gaze darting all over the place. He must have forgotten to tell me we ran out last night. A small pout fell over my lips, hands falling over my hips as I stood tall.

“Zuko? Hey Zuko-”

The sound of glass hitting the ground had my blood running cold.

My feet moved without me thinking, dashing into our bedroom frantically, “Zuko? Are you ok-”

Zuko’s face was red, hands desperately clawing at his throat. He was heaving, sweating, veins popping as he was hunched over, coughing. I could see the deep red marks etched into his skin as he tore at his throat, “Zuko!” I cried, and at the sound of my voice, his head snapped upwards.

My heart stopped, seeing how wide his golden eyes were.

They were bloodshot, tears bubbling up as he wheezed.

“Help.”

He’s choking. He can’t breathe- I ran.

“Zuko, I’m here, Zuko, relax! You need to try to breathe.” I panicked, running to his side. My feet slipped against the wooden floors as I dashed, but I found myself stopping abruptly. Ceramic littered the floor. The teacup was shattered into a dozen pieces, small fragments of herbs littering the floor-

The tea.

“Guards!” I screamed, jumping into the bed as I hastily crawled to Zuko. His chest rose and fell frantically, shoving him back as my fingers trailed to his neck. The bedroom doors flung open, the sound of heavy footsteps entering the room, “Imperial Consort- What happened?!”

“Call the doctors, Zuko is poisoned. He needs help!” I cried, not bothering to turn to face them. I shut my eyes, trying to find his pulse, hands shaking. His heart was pumping, throbbing piercingly as he struggled to breathe.

He’s dying.

Something abruptly grabbed my wrist, my eyes snapping open, and I couldn’t stop the sob that erupted from me. Zuko’s eyes met mine, and I could see it.

“I-I love you.”

“N-no-no Zuko. You’re not going anywhere.” I sobbed, hands frantically touching his throat. His pulse was dying. I need to do something. I need to do something-

That’s it.

If it’s the tea, it’s a liquid. I can bend the tea from his skin like sweat. I yanked my hand away from Zuko’s, grasping his chest and pushing my arms against his heating skin. My eyes shut closed, tears overflowing as I focused.

I can’t feel it.

I can’t feel the fucking tea.

“I can’t bend it!” I shouted in frustration, moving my hands up and down his body, trying to find a fucking drop of it in his system. His body can’t have ingested the tea into his bloodstream. For something like that to happen, a few hours would have had to pass. It’s impossible – unless.

My arms stiffened, freezing in my spot, hands no longer frantically searching his body.

The tea wasn’t tea.

I dug my fingers into his skin, breathless as I realized what was happening. I could feel it, it was there, in Zuko’s body, in his blood.

If the tea was mixed with someone’s else blood – poisoned, then it’s possible- the poison is already in Zuko’s bloodstream.

He’s going to die.

I can’t save him.

I can’t bend that; I can’t- My heart pounded loudly in my ears, pulling myself away from Zuko’s body. I couldn’t stop the tears that fell down my face.

I can’t; I shouldn’t-

My feet wobbled as I crawled off the bed, steps stomping against the hardwood floor as I dashed to the array of dual swords that decorated the wall. A weak sob left my lips as I pulled the guard off the sharp blade, throwing it across the room.

A quick twist of my feet, I felt my heart shatter, watching the way Zuko withered in our bed. His face was purple, hands desperately clenching the blankets underneath him as he wheezed painfully.

I shouldn’t-

My hands were shaking as I slowly inched towards Zuko.

His golden eyes lined with mine, seeing as I eased my way to him with a sword in hand. “I’m sorry, Zuko- I’m sorry.” I cried, pulling my gaze away from his. I couldn’t face him; I couldn’t look into those sweet eyes. I didn’t deserve it, not a single part of him.

I winced as I stepped on the shattered teacup, cutting the soles of my feet as I leaned over Zuko’s dying figure. The sharp blade pressed against Zuko’s throat, sniffling as I shook my head.

“I wanted to tell you, Zuko. I really did. But-but-”

I pressed, Zuko wincing as the blade easily sliced his soft skin, droplets of scarlet tainting his neck. I threw the knife away, jamming my fingers into the open wound. I sobbed, feeling the pain that Zuko was in, “I wanted to tell you the truth Zuko, I wanted to. But I was selfish.” I cried.

I shut my eyes, and I could feel it.

The poison, it was mixing with his blood, and I panted heavily. It was starting to fuse; if I don’t do this now, it’ll be too late.

I reached the point of no return.

Fingers jammed into Zuko’s wound, feeling his veins pulsing, blood pumping frantically in the pace of his struggling heart. Zuko’s life was far more important than the consequences I would face.

I can do this.

I will save Zuko.

My fingers twisted, earning a painful groan from Zuko. “Bare with it Zuko, I’m sorry!” I cried. Just a little bit more-almost- got it.

I yanked my body back, wrist snapping and Zuko inhaled loudly.

Relief.

I twirled my hand, panting heavily as black spots flooded my vision. I was pushing myself too much, just a little bit more- I felt the way Zuko’s blood separated from the foreign blood, tainted with poison.

My eyes widen, taking in the disgusting sight.

Dark liquid, almost black, floated in the air as I bent. My other hand weaved back and forth, trying to separate Zuko’s blood from the poison. The muscles in his body eased instantaneously, and with one giant huff, I balled my hands, the poison collapsing in itself, freezing into a ball in the air.

Zuko sat upright, his hands falling over his chest as he dry heaved. Spit fell from his lips as his body shook with each cough, air squeezing past his sore throat and filling his lungs.

He’s breathing.

I saved him, and at that moment, I made the fatal mistake of looking at him.

His eyes met mine between forced pants.

“You’re- you’re a- Bloodbender.”

His hand lunched forward as if he was trying to grab me, and I stepped back. With whatever power I had left in my body, I swung my hand forward. His eyes widen, I could feel the way he tried desperately to fight against me, but it was useless. He let out a tired groan, and his body fell limp.

Letting gravity take over, Zuko’s body fell into the bed with a thud.

“Yue!”

The doors burst open, a pair of arms wrapped around me as doctors and nurses flooded the room. A numbness filled my body. Arms falling limp to my side, only noticing then I had Zuko’s blood on the tips of my fingers still.

Blood…

“Yue.” Aang breathed heavily in my ear, and I fell to the floor, on my knees. I watched as Katara checked over Zuko’s body, “He’s okay, he passed out, but he’s breathing, he’s okay!” she shouted.

Aang shuffled in front of me, dropping to his knees with me on the floor as he cupped my face. His fingers brushed the tears that fell down my face before pressing his forehead against mine. “He knows…doesn’t he?” Aang whispered, voice pained.

“It was the only way to save him, Aang.”

“He loves you, Yue-”

“You can’t love a monster.”

Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters portrayed in this story besides Ying Yue Jiang, Lia, Kima, and any future creations.

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#Zuko x oc #zuko x reader #atla: Zuko #Fire Lord Zuko #Prince Zuko #Zuko love story #Avatar The Last Airbender #limerence #Love #Series #Masterlist #Story #Waterbender #Firebender #Atla #Thanks for reading everyone!#smut

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hecticcheer · 3 years

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This is ~2,000 words of fluff, inspired by late-night brain’s inadvertent mashup of this suggestion by boxofsfic with the ending of this story by sickiepop. (If either of you are seeing this post, hi! I love your work, and I hope you don’t mind what a monster I conceived while reading it…!)

The OCs I made up for the occasion are both around 30; the sick one’s a guy, and the other is nonbinary; they’re housemates; they might be in a QPR, but I don’t think they know that yet either.

I mmmmight write the sequel foreshadowed in the last few lines? Not sure yet; depends on whether I still like what I’ve written by tomorrow. But if you’re reading this and you’d dig that, please let me know!

—

Mr. Bartholomew Fox lay on his classroom’s hard, dusty floor, trying to remember how to pronounce respite. It had been a vocab word this week in some of his tenth graders’ books, but grading their worksheets had not required him to say the word aloud. He could remember that it wasn’t phonetic—it did not rhyme with despite, like its spelling suggested it should. But did one say the word as though it were spelled respeet? Reecepite? Resspit? The remembered voice of a friend from the days of his first smartphone reminded him, You have 3G; he fumbled for his phone, hoping the dictionary app would load this time deecepit the classroom’s shoddy cell service. When he lifted his phone, however, a text from Leverton distracted him.

You ok? At a meeting I forgot about or s/t?

Barty (he was Barty to friends, Mr. F among his less-creative students) hadn’t quite felt like himself all day, though he wasn’t sure what more than that to say about it. His joints and muscles ached, sure; his head throbbed for a bit after every movement, yeah; he’d been shaky and dizzy all day, true—but none of that was weird. He guessed these symptoms must be worse than usual, but no one of them seemed enough that way to justify what an unpleasant day he’d had. Or at least, none had done so until his final class ended, when struck the irresistible urge to lie down on the floor instead of heading home. On the floor, with nothing else to think about, they all seemed urgent. He felt so dizzy it made him hot all over, his upper lip prickling with sweat. If he moved in any way, and whenever he opened his eyes, the feeling grew worse. His left shoulder, right wrist, that mysterious place in his lower back, both knees, the muscles in his neck and thighs and forearms and halfway down his right calf—all traded off shouting for his attention. The throb behind his left eye grew sharper now, more electric, like the start of a migraine (but those usually came on earlier in the day). That side of his nose was clogged. Was he getting a cold? Not unlikely, this early in the school year. Or was it just allergy season.

He’d gone about this far in his musings and then apparently quit thinking at all until something (he could no longer remember what) had made him reach for his phone. Now, having read Leverton’s text, he laid the phone down on his chest and closed his eyes, trying to think how to reply. After he’d typed I’m okay, just and then lay still for a bit pondering how to make must’ve fallen asleep sound less dumb, another text arrived from Leverton:

Just send me an emoji or something so I know you’re not dead? You’re probably just at a meeting and I don’t want to bug you, but, starting to worry a little

I’m okay Barty sent back therefore, deleting the comma and the just. They’d both long-since turned off their phones’ “Read at 4:18 PM” feature—it made Leverton anxious, and incensed Barty on principle. Sending a quick reply took priority, therefore, over explaining himself. The little green progress bar hovered for eons about two thirds of its way across the screen, which it would never have dared at home unless he had tried to send multiple photos. Making sure not to touch the phone’s sides directly, even though he knew that made no difference on this non-dinosaur model, he wrote further, No meeting; fell asleep in classroom. Somehow that one went through at once—so quickly that he’d barely had time to close his eyes and set his head back down before it buzzed again.

Oh my god

Are you ok??? That sounds so unlike you

He didn’t know what to say. The first I’m okay hadn’t felt like a lie, since in that case it was clear he meant okay as opposed to dead. But now neither Yes or No seemed like the right answer. The long pause he elected to respond with instead probably treated Leverton worse than either one:

Are you still in your classroom? Stay there, I’ll come get you

I don’t knw [sic] if I’m comfortable w/ the thought of you driving like this.

On its face Barty found this absurd. Students fell asleep in his class nearly every time he turned on the projector, and that seemed a much greater feat than dozing off while lying alone on the floor. Besides, it hadn’t been real sleep—only stage one or two. If someone had asked whether he was awake he could have honestly said Yes, without startling first. Don’t, he began typing back, but once the initial guilt wore off he thought again about Leverton’s words (Stay there, I’ll come get you). The corners of his eyes grew hot when he pictured them setting out on foot to collect him. Leverton was right, after all—Barty never fell asleep during the day. He deleted the message he’d started and sent instead, Okay.

By the time he heard Leverton’s hand on the doorknob Barty had drifted back into early-stage sleep: close enough to the surface to recognize the sound, but far enough under that it surprised him a little. He’d forgot where he was, his thoughts (now vanished) so vivid they’d seemed realer than the floor under his back. He pulled himself up onto his elbows and his sight went dark blue from the corners inward.

“Hi,” he told Leverton as the latter entered—too quietly, as it turned out, for them to hear over the sound of the closing door. They peered around the room, but it took them a few seconds to spot him; he could tell they were looking for a seated person, rather than one on the floor. Barty cleared his throat and this time said, “Hello.”

“Oh my god—did you fall? Are you alright?”

“No, I’m fine,” Barty insisted, shaking his head, and then, smiling inanely, added, “I meant to do this.”

(Meant to do that was a long-standing meme of theirs, an offshoot from Leverton’s comparisons of Barty to a cat. After a cat does something stupid, it recovers its dignity so quickly you’d think it was trying to look like the stupid thing it did was all part of the plan. Thus whenever either of them made a mistake too large to ignore but too small for a real apology, they’d say to the other some variation on, Meant to do that.)

“You just thought the linoleum seemed like a nice change of pace from the nice couch we have at home,” summarized Leverton, and Barty noticed how they used the word nice twice in a row.

He lowered his head back to the floor, feeling too dizzy and neck-sore to waste his strength on trifles. “It’s vinyl; they just replaced it.”

“What?”

“The floor.”

“Ah. Vinyl. Excuse me.” They sat cross-legged down next to Barty, on the aforesaid vinyl.

“I’m alright,” Barty said again.

“Yeah, but that word doesn’t mean a lot coming from you. Excuse my cold hands,” Leverton warned, and placed the back of their hand to Barty’s forehead and each cheek in turn, brushing some hair out of the way first so it wouldn’t get in his eyes. Barty flinched slightly, having gone from unpleasantly hot to unpleasantly cold in the time since he’d first made contact with the floor. “Feels like you’ve got a fever. Do you think you might be coming down with something?”

“You just said your hands are cold, though,” pointed out Barty.

“Well, yeah,” Leverton conceded with a snarl of laughter—“‘cause compared to a face I figured they would be.”

“Thought you meant ‘cause you’d come from outside.”

“No; I wasn’t cold out there.”

This week had brought their town its first cold snap of the season, but in California an early-fall cold snap parses out to more like absence of heat wave. The last few days it had been cool enough to keep the AC off, but it was still t-shirt weather out from ten to ten. Leverton’s tie dye, sweatpants and flip-flops attested to this—as well as to how quickly they must have hurried to meet him. Though they worked from home, Leverton usually put on jeans to meet the public. And that tie-dye t-shirt, Barty knew, had a small hole in one armpit. It pleased him to remark that he could still keep track of details like this; too bad these examples of lucidity were invisible to Leverton.

“You look pretty sick,” said the latter. “How do you feel?”

Come to think of it, the word lucid itself could also mean translucent. That was about how he felt: diaphanous, vague, barely-there. His mother always said with it instead of lucid; though she’d never said so, he’d deduced the antonym of with it must be out of it.

“Not my best,” Barty admitted.

“But you didn’t faint, or hurt yourself, or anything.”

“No. Worried I might, but figured I’d preempt it.”

“Always thinking ahead,” scoffed Leverton, combing their hand through some more of Barty’s hair. “Your hair’s all sweaty; did you know that?”

“I did not.”

“You don’t usually sweat that bad just from feeling faint, I didn’t think.”

“You’re right.”

“So again I say, You look sick.”

“I’m probably getting sick.”

Leverton sighed through pursed lips, making them billow noisily. “Well, shit, pal, this is a terrible place to be sick.”

“Such language,” mumbled Barty, without conviction. He was so unused to letting swears pass without comment in this room that it would have taken more effort to say nothing. But Leverton, rightly, ignored this comment:

“Can you stand? Maybe I could get you some water—would that help?”

“Yes, and yes. On my desk,” Barty said, pointing without looking up.

“Uhhh… ah! I see it.” Leverton stood up and brought back Barty’s bottle of water. They sat again, uncapped it, and, once Barty had sat back up on his elbows, handed it to him and gripped his shoulder, presumably to help him keep his balance. Barty gulped down several mouthfuls, broke off to catch his breath, and shoved the cold-sweaty bottle back into Leverton’s hand, eager to lie back down. “Ah!—no—wrong way!” squawked Leverton. “Are you sure you can stand.”

“Just need a minute. Can you drag the desk chair over? Seems a pleasanter middle ground than.”

“Oh—good point. Sure.” They rolled it over, apologizing for the squeaky wheel. When he had more energy, among his friends Barty would sneer and hiss at such unpleasant sounds; the chair’s squeak hurt his head now too, of course, but somehow at the moment he found it easier to withstand unpleasant phenomena than resist them.

After a minute, he did indeed pull himself up and slither into the chair. (Leverton evidently knew better than to offer a hand to help him up; such offers would hurt his pride, and possibly also his shoulders.) His hands shook as he gripped the arms of the chair to haul himself up into it; his head spun; he was so weak the exertion hurt his chest and all four limbs. When he subsided to catch his breath his head throbbed raucously. He leant it into his hand—whose support Leverton then seconded with their own hand. Their touch chilled him at first, but he lacked the strength (whether of will or body who knew) to scoot away. He hadn’t realized how much the weight of his head had hurt his wrist until Leverton’s help removed that hurt.

“You’re really not feeling well, are you.”

“Seems that way.”

“Thank god I didn’t let you drive yourself home.”

“Too bad for the kids, they’re all gonna catch it,” Barty muttered, regretfully; “as will you, of course. And I won’t do nearly this good a job of looking after you.”

“I don’t mind. You’ll do your best.”

“Will I?”

“You always seem to. From my limited perspective.”

“I don’t have your patience. Or your empathy.”

Leverton scoffed: “Empathy? Yes you do! You feel other people’s feelings just as well as I do—you’re just shyer about it. You’re just emotionally constipated.”

“Perhaps,” granted Barty. He doubted that first half, but could already feel himself smiling at Leverton’s flatteries, and knew if he tried to argue that they would hold the smile against him as an admission. So he gave his doubts no more explicit form than, “Nice of you to say so.”

“Are you ready to try and walk to the car?”

Barty sighed, sort of phlegmily—almost a hiss. “Might as well be.”

#a shifty tract #(...first time i'm using the writing tag and it feels like a lie; no digestive ills here at all #(just vague fluey stuff and undiagnosed chronic illness. in my headcanon he has heds and pots 'cause that's what i have lmao #(but this premise Just Didn't Work on a character who understands his chronic symptoms' mechanisms as well as i know mine #(and barty--again like me--is the kind of guy who Learns Everything about any label he knows applies to him #(but who dislikes not knowing so much that if the problem has no name he'll pretend it doesn't matter for as long as possible #(sooooo no diagnosis for him. sorry pal)#permasickfic #(trying to avoid the chronic illness tag but figured i should tag for it in SOME capacity as i suspect it squicks some people)

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crazycrackersworld · 3 years

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A week ago today I wasn't even talking to her and heading for about 8 or 9 days and then there was the text message about the restraining order. Which technically counts as her reaching out to me. So I did send her messages about the restraining order and I was very upset and last Friday was a very hard day for me the idea of her getting a restraining order against me is the I don't know most hurtful things she could ever do, because I always thought that she would know and she would believe that I would never willingly hurt her.

So anyways we did end up talking on the phone Saturday Sunday Monday and Tuesday if you had it all up I think it's a grand total of 15 or 16 hours worth of conversation so when I say conversation I mean both ways she actually talked I talked we talked about important things we talked about not important things we talked about feelings we talked about just stupid stuff we just we just talked and I liked it a lot because I like talking to her. And because I want to keep her in my life in at least some capacity because she is still one of my best friends if not my best friend.

But talking or not talking for some reason the last week I have really missed her and I think if she didn't ever message me last week and we still hadn't talked for 2 weeks that I still would have really missed her this week. And I've done a lot of thinking as to why this week has been so hard on me as far as missing her. And I think it's because of the weather it's been cloudy it's been overcast it's rained on and off for like 3 or 4 days. And I think that when it's rainy and overcast it reminds me of her and I think of her because when the weather is like this back home it causes her problems migraines back spasms any number of things, and I'm used to I guess still taking care of her and trying my best to ease her pain especially during bad weather. So I think that's why I've missed her so much this week is just it rains and then I imagine you know if I was home you know I'd be making chicken soup or I'd be running to the store to get saltines or I would be getting Powerade or I would just be holding her you know. If I was back home and the weather was like this I would have spent the better part of this week just doing my best to make her life easier. And knowing that that's what I would have been doing and of course reminds me of her and then when I'm reminded of her I miss her and when I miss her I get mad and so on and so forth and etc etc.

Relationships are hard to stay together relationships are hard when they end relationships are just hard. And I don't mean just romantic ones I mean just friendships and just relationships are hard and they take work and they're difficult. But when they're over or they seem like they're over or they're in the middle of being over or whatever they're even harder.

I guess at the point I'm trying to make in all this rambling as a despite anything and everything that she has said or she has done or things that have hurt my feelings or things that have broke my heart it really doesn't matter because after all of that I still care about her and I still miss her. I have been here for over a year and I miss her I don't know what that says but I'm not even close to not missing her not close at all.

I woke up this morning and I looked out the window and I was mad I was mad that I was awake I was a mad that I woke up breathing in the first place. And I just wanted to pull a blanket over my head and curl up in a ball and not face the world or face any people or do anything it was just a crushing feeling. But I got up and I packed my lunch box and I have put on my work uniform and I'm about ready to walk out the door and start my day. And I did all of that because I refuse to give up I refuse to give up on life. And if I refuse to give up on life I refuse to give up on Susan. I don't know what else or how else or I don't know what to do kind of making it up as I go along but I obviously refuse to give up and so I'm going to walk up the door and I'm going to start my day.

#not giving up

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rose-tinted-wings · 3 years

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2am thoughts.

I show a lot of signs of ASD.

(or would they be symptoms?)

But like... Does that mean I should follow up on this?

I know quizzes aren't diagnostic tools but like, all that I take kinda point in that direction but neurotypical Nancy over there (my husband) takes them and is all a-okay so it kinda checks out.

I don't know. I can't turn my brian off.

I'm cycling through all my precious hyper fixations and kinda going, symptom, symptom, symptom.

And I honestly don't know how to feel about this.

I kinda freaked out a little because my husband moved my toothbrush but I can't control my emotions well when I'm tired.

And it just makes me remember all the times my family would call me "weird" or different.

I'm kind of a chameleon (I don't know if that's a symptom), but like, I try my best not to be weird. I attach to people and emulate their behaviour so I'm not picked on as weird and freaky and yeah sometimes I'd have to go from group to group so I wouldn't show how weird I am.

I can't seem to help it. People don't like me jumping my leg up and down to try and soothe myself. I literally got told to stop it once by a stranger sitting in front of me at a festival because she was trying to take a picture and I was wobbling the floor too much for her to get a steady shot so I've never done it since.

My husband notices when I wiggle my feet when I'm sleepy so now I only do it under the covers which kinda helps because I like the pressure and the tactile feel of the sheets on my feet.

I know I'm weird. I've always been weird. I can basically tell you a breed of dog just by looking at it because I used to study dog breeds after seeing a poster in the vets when we used to take our dog.

I used to be told that I even ate wrong. Hell, I was told that today! Because I seperate my skittles and you have to eat them in order from worst to best (yellow, orange, red, purple then green, unless you're American because American skittles are different flavour and I don't really like those when I went there, sorry). And I like all my food to be separated. If they're on the same plate they should have a good half centimetre between eat item so they don't touch but preferably eat item would be in seperate bowls but that's a lot of washing up to do so I don't ask for that anymore. I used to be told I ate things wrong or upside down or the wrong way round because of I could I would take the filling out my sandwich and eat that last because that's the better bit. But I do TRY not to get upset when my food touches, like, in a restaurant, I don't expect them to seperate my food, it comes how it comes, I'll seperate it myself. I was told to stop being weird, eat the pepperoni ON the pizza. My mum would purposefully move my sweets when they were all in lines which was really distressing but I knew it was just me being weird, again. And I don't like soft food. Like, I can't eat a sandwich that has a salad filling and a tomato was on the bread. It just makes it soggy and disgusting in my mouth. Like if you have too many crackers and then try to have water after but then there's mushy cracker in your mouth. No. Just no. Yoghurt is bad. I grew some in a lab once at different temperatures and I do not want to ingest that.

But yeah. I'm just like... Is this why people think I'm rude? I've literally been called spikey and aloof by people in therapy.

But then my hubby says this could all just be trauma brain trying to put things "right" or "orderly" and just trying to grasp at control from a time where I had none. (I call it trauma brain because I'm not diagnosed with PTSD and even though I stand with self Dx I can't personally agree to something unless it's like, officially on paper and such, another lovely quirk)

I don't know. He says I need sleep, which, yes, I do. But I cannot turn my brain off.

Like I keep thinking about Greek mythology and how I was really into that, and knitting and crochet and the different kinds of fibres you can use, and like, dimaond art, and psychology. And I wanted to be a mortician because I don't wanna be around people because talking is HARD.

And people are always "why didn't you talk to me?" when I have a mental health crisis but I don't know how to do that! How do you pick up a phone and go "hey! Just wanted to drop a line and say I'm suicidal but there's nothing anyone can do about it anyway seeing as it's all wonky brain chemistry so I don't really know why I'm telling you!" yanno? I don't know how to talk. I don't. Like. I've said it to people before. I see you. We've spoken. I see you as Friend but like... Talk? Uh... Weather? Music? Life? Philosophy? Where... Do we start?

I love my brothers, very much but I do not Do Sport and that's all I can think they're into. I am not Sport Person. I am not Ex Military. I am not Parent. How do we do this? Do we HAVE anything in common? Since the pandemic we haven't been able to play D&D and they don't seem interested in picking that back up so like... Where do we start?

I know people don't get to know me. I put people off by being blunt about my past abuse. It makes them uncomfortable. Like, casually dropped in having sex around 13 once and my friend about fell off his chair. Casually mentioned my father nearly killing me once and again he did not know what to say. Hell, again, it happened today. Talking about when I fell off my bike and broke my arm in two places and nearly my knee and my head bounced off the pavement and I could have died off not for my helmet and they thought THAT was dark until I said I also got told off for bleeding on the sofa and instead of calling an ambulance my dumbass father called my mother from work who took an hour to get home who then took me to the hospital. (and now I'm saying it all again to freak more people out. Awesome.) and I didn't even say how I needed a cloth over my knees because they looked so mangled I couldn't stop looking at the wreckage that was my body and the worst part was I walked home on that knee and when my brother found me he said are you okay? And all I could worry about was my stupid bike that I got for Christmas because I knew they would kill me if it got damaged. My self worth was lower than a bike. At 8.

So is this trauma? Is this ASD? I don't know. All I knoe right now is that I'm weird and I freak people out and I don't know when to shut up but I need all this out my head to be asleep.

And no one understands when you just and a word stuck in your head over and over again. And hubby was like, oh like when a line in a song plays in your head over and over and I said yeah but sometimes it's just a word like hypotenuse over and over and over and it won't stop.

Like now. I can't stop typing because this is all my inner monologue and it just won't stop. It won't let me sleep.

When I used to be like this as a kid I used to look out of the window. No matter whose (is that a word? I'm tired) house I was in. And the world would be still, and quiet, and I wanted that. But my brain doesn't like shutting down and right now I can't sleep until the sun comes up because that's when Trauma Brain says, ah, yes, safe now.

And my husband likes the door open to the bedroom even though I've told him it's a fire risk and no we haven't had a fire but my mum was freaked out by fire after she was in hospital next to a burn victim once and now I've got that trauma. Like, I have to have a safety plan on how to get out if there is a fire and even though it's still only a wooden door you'd be surprised by the amount of protection it brings.

And he likes night lights which, yes, can be helpful sometimes but I don't like light in my bedroom at night. So now I wear an eye mask but I hate the pressure on my face but I don't tell him that but now if I don't wear it I can't sleep because I'm used to the pressure even if I hate it!!

This is tiring. I've been typing for like, 40 mins and I just want to cry and sleep and punch his stupid snoring face because he can sleep and I can't and it's not fair. It's like he's rubbing it in my face. Oooo look how well I can sleep, snoring away next to you ZzZzz!! Ugh. I know it's stupid and petty but I'm tired. I've not slept more than five hours a night for nearly two weeks now and I know that's actually quite a bit for when my body decides to be in these moods and it's got to the point that my body is just fighting my sleeping tablets like an evil villain trying to thwart me.

But I need to wake up WITHOUT a migraine tomorrow as hubby had clinic at hospital but thankfully his dad is taking him but I have to pick him up and if I have a full migraine I don't k ow how I'll drive and I'm just. So. Tired.

Maybe this has helped. Maybe I'll put my phone down and just... Sleep.

Wow I've had to correct myself so much because I'm typing weird.

Weor Weor word word weird. That's it. Weird. That's me

Weird.

#Personal #probably delete in the morning #Asd #mentally exhausted

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cle1024 · 5 years

Text

erubescent | hhj

member: hwang hyunjin

genre: angst, fluff

summary: why are my cheeks erubescent? i shouldn’t be feeling this way about you; i’m not supposed to trust you. bad boy!au, florist!au, high school!au, enemies to lovers!au

warnings: swearing, underage drinking, cigarettes

a/n: it’s big cliche teen romance hours. i’ve been working on this for a while so it’s kind of long, i also apologise in advance for any spelling or grammatical errors. enjoy!

Monday, 2:35am.

Music blasted from the garage down the street, as it had been for the past four hours. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, a huff passing your lips before you shoved the covers off of your sleep-deprived body. The house was on the other side of the road, three houses down, yet the sound it emitted was still agonisingly clear. There wasn’t a party or get together going on, it just served as the background noise for some boy who decided to do god knows what at two in the morning. ‘Some boy’ referred to the devil incarnate. Personally, you had your own bad traits and habits, and you were willing to acknowledge that. The boy, on the other hand, was not as willing. He was cocky, self-absorbed, arrogant, and many other synonyms. Students at your school found him annoyingly charming and attractive, parents found him to be deceptively charming and a total sweetheart, you thought he was a dumb prick. A self-absorbed, untrustworthy, dumb prick. A no-good, rudderless, troublesome bum. Hwang Hyunjin was the bane of your existence without even trying.

Luck was never on your side, evidently. The bus ride to school took fifteen minutes at the least and school started at 8:00am sharp. Your bus was intended to arrive at 7:40am, but eight minutes had passed and it vehemently refused to show up. A groan bubbled in your chest, prepared to be expressed through your soft lips and into the crisp morning air, but the chance was cut short, much to your dismay.

“Doesn’t school start at 8:00am?” As if your morning couldn’t get worse. The distinct voice of the boy, who’d managed to keep you up all night with his music, echoed from beside you. As far as you were concerned, he had no clue who you were: no name, class, nothing. You’d prefer to keep it that way.

“Yes,” Hyunjin clicked his tongue before shoving his hands in his pockets. You weren’t sure if he was expected more of a conversation from you, perhaps some stuttering and blushing on your behalf, which you most certainly weren’t going to provide. Your morning had already gotten off to a shit start due to his behaviour, no need to make it even worse. As the clock ticked to 7:51am, the bus finally pulled up in front of the two of you. Hyunjin made a beeline to get on first, almost knocking you out of the way in the pursuit. You rolled your eyes: what on earth did people see in him?

Wednesday, 1:22am.

You banged your head against your desk continuously. Life was an unpleasant, torturous ride that you could not get off of. Hyunjin’s music was blasting from down the street, this time accompanied by the obnoxious laughter of his friends, all the while your chemistry report sat unwritten in front of you. Of course you had the scaffold and results you needed, but none of the motivation to write a full scientific report. What was the point? You didn’t wish to pursue a career that had anything to do with chemistry. It infuriated you immensely, the way adults dictated what was and wasn’t important to learn, even if you had no intention of applying it to your life later. You allowed your head to rest on the desk solemnly, the pain forming from where you’d hit it repeatedly - not hard enough to do any damage, but enough times for it to cause some pain. That, partnered with the lively sound of Hyunjin’s house, was enough to give you a killer migraine. You rubbed your temples tiredly, trying to recall if there was any panadol stashed in the cupboard near the kitchen. Much to your displeasure, you were almost certain there wasn’t. You sighed as you refocused your eyes on the bright laptop in front of you. With an exasperated sigh, you let your fingers wander over the keyboard to write the stressful report. You had roughly seven hours until you had to be at school and subsequently hand it in, going one more day with a few hours of sleep should be fine.

It was absolutely not fine. You had fallen asleep at your desk after printing out the report and stapling it together, waking up with a major neck cramp and back ache. Furthermore, you only managed to catch your bus by a second, any later and you would’ve been forced to watch the bus roll away and catch sight of Hyunjin’s smug face as he sat at the back of the bus. Though you were glad you wouldn’t be subjected to such a look, you were stressed out of your mind. Stupid fucking chemistry report. As soon as you made it off the bus you muttered a thank you to the driver, speed-walking in the direction of your school. Hyunjin dawdled behind you, a fairly large distance between the two of you. He didn’t understand why you were in such a rush to get to that hell hole. He’d only noticed you for the first time on Monday at the bus stop, but now he saw you everywhere. Every time he wasn’t in class on Monday, either because he was skipping or because it was break time, he managed to catch a glimpse of your face.

And you always looked like you wanted to die.

It was quite humorous to Hyunjin, almost paradoxical in a way. You appeared to pay attention in class from the glimpses he got, dedicated to your studies he could assume, yet there was never an emotion other than stress or distaste creasing your facial features. He didn’t blame you, though. As soon as he could get out of that school he would run off to become a choreographer at the same studio as Minho. If he was old enough, he would do it now, but Minho said the company was strict on the ages of choreographers: “I’m not fucking around, Hwang. If they find out you’re still in school, they’ll come into my house and cut up all my clothes while I’m sleeping. I don’t have the money to buy new ones!” It was a very specific, unrealistic threat, but Minho could be very persuasive when it suited him.

Friday, 1:41am.

How anyone in the neighbourhood got any sleep was beyond you. Every night the Hwang house pumped music, different genres but none that piqued your interests or matched your tastes. At this point, it had been a week since it had started - you believed that was when his parents left town for a trip to visit relatives, at least that’s what you’d heard around school. People had been buzzing with excitement when they heard that Hwang Hyunjin had an empty house and could, as a result, throw a rambunctious party. Of course you weren’t as keen on the idea, but nothing you could do would stop it from happening. The party, thankfully, hadn’t happened yet, and you were secretly praying it never would. Though, now that you thought about it, could it be any worse? You already lacked sleep due to his deafening sound system, would the rambunctious sounds of teenage laughter really add to the noise? The only times you could make out the noises of his dickhead friends was when the music had been turned down significantly so they could hear one another yelling and hooting. Your eyes rolled at the thought, imbeciles. In their defence, the group had never directly done anything to you that made you feel that way. Rather, the way they acted left a bad taste in your mouth and a ringing sensation in your ears. Just like Hyunjin, they exuded an inflated sense of entitlement and were noisy beyond belief at school―at least when they were together. When they were apart, some of the boys were more quiet and mainly threw dirty looks or dropped an occasional comment. You weren’t sure whether Hwang Hyunjin classified as one of those boys as you’d never seen him alone at school, there was always someone matching his footsteps and snarky remarks. Come to think of it, the only time you’d seen Hyunjin stood alone was when you’d been late to catching the bus or the bus had showed up ten minutes late. Regardless, you had your reasons for wanting to stay as far away from them as possible.

You sigh at the bright screen of your mobile, the energy draining from your body at the thought of working through the weekend. There was nothing wrong with the florist your family owned, you were merely unsatisfied with being paid the minimum wage of nine dollars and thirty cents an hour. Majority of the customers you’d had the duty of serving were restaurant or cafe owners, people with sick friends or family, lovesick teenagers, or middle-aged women who wanted to spruce up the dining room. Your mother often spoke of an elderly lady who came in with her handsome grandson, though you’d never been working when she frequented the store. You supposed the store was easy money, just neatly wrap some flowers with an adequate meaning and smile as genuinely as possible. There was never any displeasure from customers or passing civilians, but standing behind a counter for nine hours was less than stellar―and it was only for the grand payment of $135.40, that was better than nothing you supposed. You rested your head against the cool glass window of the bus, the cold air frosting the surface temperature. Grey clouds loomed across the autumn sky, the transition to winter becoming clearer each day. Autumn was usually a blue-skied sunny time, though as it faded into the crisp winter everything became abysmal. The sky took on monotone greys and watered the grass every now and then, it became dreary and people lost energy simply by looking at the dark weather. Though it was a small motivator for some, signalling that winter break would approach in a months time. Late November, always so deplorable. That was usually the time you had the most people coming into the flower shop looking for some bright arrangement to make their home feel less cold and dull; they cared not for the meaning but for the colour, even if it meant throwing together flowers of hatred and passion to achieve such a look. You wanted to laugh at their ignorance, but how could you blame them? Everything just felt so cold at this time of year.

Sunday, 5:36pm.

Rain gently pattered the glass windows of the store as you swirled the straw poked in your strawberry milk carton. The pink liquid followed the movement of the straw in a slow swirling motion, twisting in currents of dairy as a form of entertainment for your exhausted self. Business had been slower than yesterday, likely due to the ugly shades of grey and sharp rainfall haunting the sky, but you didn’t necessarily see it as a bad thing. You’d been standing in one general area since nine in the morning and your feet were aching. Your eyes drifted from the liquid inside the carton to the white clock on the wall―6:00pm wasn’t that far away. You were down to your last few sheets of the brown craft paper used to support the delicate bouquets, perhaps you could just restock that in the meantime. A cracking noise sounded from your back as you straightened your posture, rolling your shoulders from their previously hunched position. Your legs moved slowly in the direction of the staff only area of the shop, walking through the opened door in search for new paper. As you sifted through the craft paper, debating whether you continued with the tan brown colour or switched to an opaque blush pink, you heard the faint echo of the bell from above the door and the sounds of the rain grew heavier momentarily before the door shut. Your ears could just make out the sounds of quiet muffled talking, two voices evidently present, though you couldn’t pinpoint the exact words. With a stack of new pink craft paper in hand, you exited the storage room and returned to your usual spot behind the checkout, placing the newly gathered paper underneath the leftover brown sheets. From your position, you could clearly spot the two customers studying the large vases of fresh flowers, the taller and younger of which with their back to you. They had short yet messy black hair, slightly growing into a mullet from a lack of trimming, a white hoodie and light jeans. Their companion was much smaller, an elderly lady with grey hair and a soft smile. Perhaps this was the grandmother and her charming grandson that your mother spoke so fondly of―though that thought was immediately dismissed when the two figures turned to approach the table you stood behind. Hwang Hyunjin, of course it had to be.

You weren’t the only one who felt less than stellar about the situation. As soon as Hyunjin laid his eyes on the person behind the counter, you, he groaned internally. He hadn’t a clue what your name was, nor had you done anything to him, but he distinctly recognised you as someone from his school. This was going to be beyond humiliating―surely you would taint his infamous reputation at school, or at least blackmail him to avoid doing so. His grandmother smiled warmly at you as she placed the yellow flowers on the counter, “hello, dear. Just those ones today,” you nodded with a small smile, your fingers working carefully to wrap the bouquet in shades of tan brown. Hyunjin tried to avoid looking at you entirely, though he couldn’t help but wonder what happened to the lady who usually ran the store―you did bare a striking resemblance to her, so he just made the assumption that you were related by blood, just as he was to his grandmother.

“Any special occasion for the flowers?” Your soft voice floated to his ears as you tied a silk ribbon around the paper.

“Oh no, my grandson just likes tulips,” his grandmother chuckled as he forced an embarrassed smile, “though it would be nice to have some colour in this dreary weather,” you nodded understandingly. That was always the case in such weather. Hyunjin’s smooth hands placed the money in yours as he picked up the bouquet, praying to escape the store as soon as possible even with a growing storm outside. As soon as he heard the register close, he made his way to the front door of the shop while his grandmother shouted a quick thank you from behind him. You watched in amusement as the infamous Hwang boy exited the dainty little shop. You certainly never took him for a lover of flowers, let alone tulips. Then again, you only knew his reputation. You didn’t know Hwang Hyunjin.

Monday, 3:51pm.

Hyunjin glanced at the clock dreamily, feeling very resemblant of Britney Spears in her Baby One More Time music video. Only nine minutes until he could get home and prepare a half-assed meal, then ditch his after school study groups for some time with friends, as he always did when his parents weren’t able to monitor him. It was always a paradise when they were gone―no fighting, no classes until ten o’clock at night, no demands to turn his music down when it wasn’t even turned up halfway on his phone. He much preferred his grandmother. She was wise, sweet, gentle, and always prepared him hot chocolate and biscuits in the winter. Although now that he thought of his grandmother, he couldn’t help but cast his mind back to the flower shop and how you had served him. An internal groan erupted in him at the thought. He didn’t care that it was you who served him, he had no clue who you were, though the knowledge that you had some sort of leverage over him bugged him greatly. You knew he wasn’t all parties, unsafe drinking and scoffs, you knew he was a sucker for tulips and accompanied his grandmother to a warm little florist. The bell rung right as his eyes rolled subconsciously. He could only hope that your interaction at the flower shop wouldn’t synchronise with his visits to the store.

Hyunjin glared at the cracked screen of his phone, furrowing his eyebrows at the text message from the girl in the year below him. If it hadn’t been for the persistence of the girl, he would’ve completely discarded her name from his memory. Son Bongcha, the way she squeaked it vivaciously was an earache and a half. The boy didn’t really know when Bongcha started her quest to ‘win his heart’ or whatever the fuck she was trying to do, he tended to not take much notice of her in hopes of getting her to realise that he was far from being interested. Though it seemingly never worked. Everyday, or everyday she could find him, she’d have another sickly giggle and batting eyelashes prepared in advance. At this point, his friends ridiculed him relentlessly for it―just as they planned to do now. Hyunjin felt the phone being snatched from his grip suddenly, causing him to swiftly look up and meet the sight of Jisung sprinting in the opposite direction as his other friends followed behind. The tall boy groaned at the thought of their teasing, “Ji, give it back.”

“Why, so you can be harassed by…”

“Bongcha!” The boys mimicked her voice in unison as the huddled against one another in the distance. Hyunjin rolled his eyes with an amused half-smirk. He initially felt bad for mocking the girl, but the memory of her desperate flirting seemed to rid of the guilt―he still vividly recalls the time she caused a scene in the hallway, loudly demanding he admit their relationship (which didn’t exist) to the rest of the school. That all happened when he was in his third and final year of junior high school, aged fifteen while she was only fourteen―Chan would’ve been in his final year of senior high school at that point. The thought felt odd; Hyunjin had only met Chan through Minho last year, the idea of the eldest being in school felt… wrong. His attention fell back to his laughing friends as they read over Bongcha’s irritating messages. Changbin rolled his eyes before taking a swig of his beer, “I don’t get why you haven’t blocked her number yet.”

Minho laughed, “who else will be a loyal booty call?”

Hyunjin sighed heavily, “not all of us rely on booty calls, Minho,” the older held his hands up in surrender as the others cheered Hyunjin on, “besides, a blocked number doesn’t stop her from approaching me at school.”

After the words left his plump lips, Felix came running up to him and tugged on his arm before whining, “oppa! Why haven’t you texted me back?” The group laughed at his impression of the girl, the alcohol pumping through their blood seemingly hyped them up and amplified the humour of the situation. Jisung tossed the cracked phone back to Hyunjin.

“Chan and Minho have no other way to experience her cringiness, don’t delete her number,” Hyunjin took the younger’s advice. No one would know about how they flamed the girl, and it felt like a good form of redemption for the way she had humiliated him in junior high school. It took months for those dating rumours to die down―although Hyunjin still isn’t one-hundred percent sure people knew the truth of the situation. Then again, the truth of a rumour always turned out to be the version people wanted to believe, no matter how much evidence proved otherwise.

Thursday, 7:38am.

Hyunjin’s feet slapped against the pavement gently as he strolled to the bus stop. He never usually took the bus to school, at least not since the first year of junior high when his parents last went on a holiday―some sort of romantic getaway bull shit, just as they were this time. Although he was used to the sound of honking horns and road rage from his short-tempered mother, even if short lived, he much preferred the journey from the bus. The walk was always comforting even in the depths of winter and swells of summer, and there was something about sitting on a bus with two other people that was oddly comforting to the boy. Perhaps he was just odd―no, if he was odd then no one would understand him fully, yet there were people who did, friends no less. A sigh escaped his lips as the bus stop entered his sight, as well as your figure sitting on the furthest end of the bench. He didn’t see you here every morning, likely because he took much more time to dawdle here than you did, though you were there on mornings where the bus was inexcusably late or you had woken up on the wrong side of bed far too late. It seemed like one of those mornings. As Hyunjin drew closer he could make out the dark circles under your dull eyes, the messy strands of hair that carelessly fell in your face, eyes half-shut as you looked ahead in a trance. He wondered how long it took you to get here each morning, perhaps you rarely ran into each other at the stop because you lived closer than he did, or perhaps you just had a more sensible understanding of time and its value. The thought seemingly left his mind not long after it entered. He hadn’t a reason to care for how you got to the bus stop, nor did he take much notice of you when you did happen to cross paths―except for at the florist. The dark-haired boy was close to forgetting that incident when it resurface with the sight of you. Sighing softly, he leaned against the poll of the bus stop sign and gazed in the direction the bus would usually come from.

You picked at the mini pajeon on your food tray, only slightly listening to the conversation of your surrounding three friends. You could make out the sound of disgust made by Seungmin as Jeongin appeared to eat a chunk of rice whole, “Jeongin, you need to chew,” his nasally voice sounded diagonally to you. There was no need to look at the first year to know his response, you could practically hear the over exaggerated eye roll he often did at one of Seungmin’s critiques. Although they bickered a fair bit and tormented each other to no end, you knew it was out of non-blood related brotherly love. Yuqi chuckled from your left, nudging you gently to engage in a conversation outside of the two bickering boys.

“How’s the noisy house going?” She smiled playfully before popping a piece of nori seaweed in her mouth. You mimicked Jeongin’s eye roll on a smaller scale.

“Awful. Still staying awake until four or five in the morning after bashing my head against a wall,” Yuqi laughed at your dramatic words. Her elbow rested on the table as she shrugged her shoulders slightly.

“I don’t understand why you don’t just say something to him about it. You’re not even neighbours and it keeps you up!” You sighed gently, knowing she was right. Of course the confrontation would be more beneficial, but it would also be your worst nightmare. You never wished to interact with Hwang Hyunjin. Besides, you knew complaining about his behaviour would only gain a scoff and door slamming in your face, perhaps a friendly “go fuck yourself”.

“I just don’t want to complain about something when I know it won’t change.”

Saturday, 1:43am.

The buzz about Hyunjin’s potential party while he had the house to himself morphed into a nightmarish reality at ten o’clock, Friday night. He threw ‘everyone is invited’ type of parties, which only served as a way for desperate girls to throw themselves at him and blame it on alcohol the next day when he inevitably rejects him. You could remember Yuqi saying she would go, only because her boyfriend didn’t want to get wasted without someone reliable by his side―although you were pretty sure Yuqi just wanted to hear him drunkenly ramble about how she was the love of his life or some crap. Jeongin had been begged to go by one of Hyunjin’s friends, Felix. You hadn’t a clue how they met but Jeongin said he was a good guy, even when Hyunjin was near him―in all honesty, you’d never spoken to Felix in your entire life, you just knew that he and Han Jisung had gotten more detentions in one semester than you’d gotten in your entire time at school. Seungmin detested the idea of parties, way too many “loud and sweaty barbarians in one cramped space” as he once said, and you were in a similar boat. You didn’t know anyone at the party who wouldn’t be dragged away by someone giggly and drunk to leave you standing awkwardly, and you didn’t want to be in the same cramped house as Hyunjin―let alone his own house. You didn’t really want to think about the fact you could almost feel the vibrations of the bass from across the road, two houses down, though it was almost impossible when it was the main cause of your splitting headache. You sighed before grabbing your phone from the nightstand beside you, squinting at the brightness of the screen in your dark room. Yuqi’s simple text message, signifying her ending the night, appeared on your screen in the form of a blinding notification: xuxi is pissed off his face and telling me to never leave him, i’m really dating an overgrown child huh. A small chuckle escaped your lips at the thought of the six foot teenager babbling about loving Yuqi―you couldn’t blame him, Yuqi was practically perfection personified. Love and alcohol can make a person do crazy things, admit all their secrets and give everything away. Yukhei was just lucky Yuqi was willing to make the same sacrifices for him, regardless of his sobriety at the time.

The clock on your phone displayed the early time of 2:46pm, eliciting a disapproving groan and eye rub from your tired form. You supposed it was catch-up for all the mornings you’d woken up with four hours of sleep. A satisfying crack sounded as you arched your back and stretched your arms, pulling the covers from your pyjama-clad body to make your way to the window. The weather was far more bright today, blue skies and fluffy marshmallows speckled around against the cool colour, though you could still feel the frosty nip of the air as you opened the window. You were met with a gust of wind and voices, indistinguishable but strong. Your eyes cast downwards towards the road right outside your house, immediately spotting seven boys in the area―you could easily tell who they were. You noticed Jeongin first, watching from the gutter as he laughed from beside another boy you hadn’t seen before. The dimpled boy, evidently older, had slightly curly brown hair atop his head and a cheerful grin on his pale face. In the road was Jisung and Felix, both in your year and far too loud for your liking―though Jeongin had defended them numerous times saying they were ‘funny and wholesome dudes’. Then you spotted Lee Minho with his head turned sideways and his back to you. A graduated boy with a permanent smirk and never-ending collection of flirtatious comments, that was the best way to describe Lee Minho―based off everything you’d heard about him, at least. He oozed sleaziness, though his smile in that moment seemed so genuine and pure as he laughed at the younger boys in the road. Seo Changbin sat nearby the elder male, his feet resting on the tar road as he sat on a skateboard identical to the one Jisung had almost fallen from moments ago. The most you knew about him was that he had a permanent glare, unwanted opinions to share all the time, and bangs that would seem annoyingly ticklish on your eyes. Directly across from you, supporting his outstretched body on his elbows, was the boy you had been running into far too often for your liking. There was a cigarette twiddling between his long fingers, though you could tell it was unlit and seemed to be staying that way. His gaze drifted, tired of absentmindedly looking up the street, to look straight ahead of him. He cocked his head at you almost teasingly, a small smirk playing on his lips as he maintained your gaze. Nothing was different about his appearance: same dark eyes, same dark messy hair, although slightly longer at the ends now. You pushed yourself away from the ledge of the window to avoid the shivering breeze and invasive gaze of a certain Hwang.

Monday, 12:54pm.

Yukhei leaned his head on Yuqi’s shoulder as he shovelled rice into his mouth, the minor display of affection earning a disgusted look from Seungmin. As they did every year, Yukhei and Yuqi marked this as their week of public affection in the lead up to their anniversary. It baffled your mind to think about how the pair had been together since the second year of junior high, four years on Sunday. You could never imagine yourself tolerating anyone in a romantic sense for that long―then again, you’d never had any romantic relationship in the first place. The idea of shy smiles and reddening cheeks made you sick nowadays, even though it was an ideal you once yearned for. The sound of Jeongin forcefully sitting down broke the concentrated gaze you had on your own food tray, glancing up at him momentarily to smile. Your eyes lingered for a second―the boy was positively beaming, braces and dimples on full display as he grinned enthusiastically. Seungmin studied the younger male beside him, “did you ingest the sun?”

Jeongin rolled his eyes, though his smile remained, “no, I just had a good weekend and got a good mark on my chemistry report.”

Yuqi smile supportively at the young boy, “good job, Innie!” He usually hated that nickname, but he seemed okay with Yuqi using it occasionally―she was like an older sister to him, even if they hadn’t known each other for decades.

“I take it Hyunjin threw a good party.”

“Yeah, we hung out the next day too,” the comment garnered a teasing “don’t go replacing us” from Yuqi, though you couldn’t really focus on that. The only thought on your mind was the heavy eye contact you held with Hyunjin, while he had that stupid shit-eating smirk on his face. One incident at the florist couldn’t undo the cockiness that he exuded at all times. You hated self-righteousness―Hwang Hyunjin just so happened to be the walking form of such an undesirable trait.

Saturday, 5:46pm.

Your hands nimbly wrapped the bouquet of pale pink azalea flowers, they were the perfect decision in your eyes. They expressed fragility, gratitude and passion, all of which Yukhei harboured towards his long-time girlfriend Kim Yuqi. There was a goofy, dazed smile on his face as he undoubtedly allowed his mind to travel along a road structured by thoughts of her. You shook your head lightly, tying the bouquet with a delicate white ribbon before handing him the bouquet, to which he slid over the adequate amount of money and left with a thank you and a smile. You sighed as the door slammed shut behind him, squeaking slightly on its hinges―you had to remind your mum to get some WD-40 to fix that up. Glancing at the clock, you mentally praised the swift movement of time as you relished in the fact you only had fourteen minutes left. You allowed your head to roll forwards, stretching your cramping neck before rolling it all the way back, fixating your gaze on the white ceiling of the store. The bell sounded from the door causing you to return your gaze to looking straight ahead as your neck pushed your head back upwards. The familiar back of Hyunjin greeted you as he sifted through the display vases, clearly in look of a certain type of flower. You heard him curse under his breath before awkwardly turning to make his way to the counter―you could see that the feeling of wanting to avoid the other was mutual. He cleared his throat slightly before speaking with a soft voice, a tone that shocked you as it came from the typically rebellious boy, “uh―do you happen to have any yellow roses left? Maybe in the back or something?” You watched him fiddle with the ring on his right index finger before you quietly made your way to the storage room in search of the sunny roses; a symbol of joy, friendship, of get well. To his luck, there was a fresh display vase of the yellow petals waiting to replace the last one.

“How many were you hoping for?” Your voice sounded as you reappeared from the nearby room. His head shot up towards you as he fixed his gaze on the roses.

“Just a dozen, grandma only likes receiving flowers in groups of twelve,” he mumbled the second part more to himself than you, though you still made out the words. With a silent nod, you plucked twelve of the roses from the glass vase, wrapping them delicately in the pink craft paper before handing them to the tall boy.

“I hope she gets better soon,” you offered as he took the bouquet. His hand was outstretched towards you to offer the necessary payment, though you shook your head in refusal. Hyunjin studied you for a second before shoving the money back in his pocket, only to turn and leave without even thanking you. A scoff passed your lips as he left the store. You didn’t expect much from him, but certainly he would have the common decency to thank someone for saving them thirty-six dollars―three dollars for each stem, though you didn’t particularly agree with the price. Regardless of the cost, Hyunjin should’ve thanked you for saving his money so he could spend it on more cigarettes that he wouldn’t smoke, or whatever the fuck he spends his cash on.

Wednesday, 12:33pm.

Hyunjin had essentially gone M.I.A after the flower shop incident, though you were certain it wasn’t related to your involvement. You chalked it up to taking care of his grandmother, or at least being by her side while she was sick, though other people didn’t seem to think the same―then again, other people didn’t know about the health of his grandmother. The only reason you knew was because Hyunjin wasn’t as quiet as he had hoped when he spoke to himself, you were never meant to know. You poked at your rice with your chopsticks in an attempt to rid the vague memory from your mind. Your eyes glanced around your surroundings, noticing how pathetically lonely you looked. From what you knew, Yuqi was studying in the library, Seungmin was at some student council meeting, and Jeongin was always late to lunch: “I have a full hour until lunch ends, why can’t I be twenty minutes late?” That always earned an eye roll from Seungmin, a boy who highly valued punctuality and reliability. In your opinion, he could go a little overboard with his withering patience, but you supposed there was nothing he could really do about it. Especially when Jeongin tested it every other day.

A carton of strawberry milk was slammed on the table in front of you, though not with enough force to break the carton and allow the milk to spill everywhere. Your head rose, as did your gaze, in order to figure out which of your friends had decided to interrupt your pondering. Instead, Hyunjin stood with a hand in his trouser pocket and the other by his side, backpack slung over his shoulders as he looked at you with a blank expression. He gazed at you for a moment, breaking the contact to walk in the direction of his friends’ lunch table, somehow ignoring the gaze of every fucking person in the lunch hall. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you reached out to take hold of the milk, unsure as to how he knew to go for strawberry rather than chocolate or banana. There was a small sticky note, pale yellow, stuck to one side of the carton with messy handwriting scrawled on its surface. You dropped your chopsticks to peel the note off and decipher the words ‘now we’re even’, right above much smaller writing. You squinted involuntarily as your eyes traced the lines, struggling to make out the simple ‘thank you’ he’d, probably shamefully, written. A small smile graced your features before you opened the carton; you didn’t think about the fact people had watched the whole thing, not in that moment at least.

“What was that all about?” Changbin questioned as the younger sat down at the table.

“I owed her something,” he explained with a small shrug.

Jisung scoffed in disbelief, “yeah, because you’re so giving, Jinnie,” the words earned a glare from the taller boy, but it went unnoticed by Jisung as he happily munched on his food.

“Doesn’t matter, no one’s gonna see it that way regardless,” Felix commented absentmindedly before swiftly transitioning to another topic. Hyunjin drifted his eyes towards you, watching as you sipped from the milk carton and nodded slightly in acknowledgement as Jeongin approached your table. He furrowed his eyebrows, how had he never noticed you around Jeongin before? You placed the carton down momentarily before glancing around the lunch hall, eyes landing on the Hwang boy who was already staring into you. Though you didn’t react the way most people would—no flushed cheeks or shy smile, just a blank expression as you internally questioned why he was blatantly staring at you. The feeling it gave him was strange. It almost felt like you treated him like a human being, not a reputation or status to ogle at. He smirked slightly at you, causing you to turn away with an unimpressed expression. You were an enigma in the cafeteria; he knew so little about you, yet knew exactly how you felt about him with a few facial expressions.

Thursday, 7:36am.

People seemed to have a fucking field day with your little — very little — interaction with Hyunjin in the cafeteria. Numerous people, majority of which gossiping girls you’d never cared for interact with, questioned you about your ‘relationship’ with Hyunjin. It made you agitated beyond belief, almost in a way that was unjustified. No, actually, it was most definitely justified. If you had a dollar for every time someone approached you to ask whether you two were dating, how you knew him, why he gave you milk, why you’d never spoken before, or anything that could get even a little bit of information — which would inevitably be the victim of manipulation and embellishment as it passed through the school — you’d no longer need to be working for your parents in that dingy old florist. You groaned slightly at the thought of the store. You knew you’d inevitably return whenever your parents told you to, until you got another and higher-paying job, and that would mean possible interactions with Hyunjin—with or without his smiling grandmother. Perhaps it was that thought that, unbeknownst to you, summoned the boy to your vicinity. School shoes slapped against the concrete pavement, smoothly approaching the bus stop. You could feel the sharp sensation of someone’s prominent gaze fixated on you, yet you waited until the approaching person had halted their movements to glance at them. You had intended to keep a blank expression on your face, though couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling back into your head at the sight of his smug face. Hyunjin towered over your seated form with a faint smirk dancing on his lips. His smugness was likely prompted by your eye roll, or the fact he bought you a fresh carton of flavoured milk—not that it meant anything, he was repaying you after all. Hands in pockets and backpack slung over his shoulder casually, the consistent styling of the consistently careless Hyunjin. You diverted your gaze elsewhere, refocusing on the road ahead of you. His eyes were still trained on you, you could sense it. There was no watch on your wrist, nor did you know how to tell the time based on the sun’s position in the sky, but you could estimate at least two minutes passed before Hyunjin opened his snarky mouth.

“Tutor me.”

An exasperated sigh passes your lips, your gaze shifting up toward the cloudless blue sky, “what do you need tutoring for? Your grades are fine.”

A noise escaped his mouth at your words, a mix between a scoff and a chuckle, “no, not school,” you didn’t like the tone he used in that phrase—as if you were a pure moron for even entertaining the idea of school tutoring. He continued shortly, breaking your irritated thoughts, “flowers.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you turned your head to look at him, evident puzzlement tracing your features. He shrugged his shoulders slightly, diverting his gaze momentarily to the pavement beneath him. You appreciated his shift in tone as he spoke, a softer and calmer, almost soothing, sound.

“Teach me about flowers.”

And so you started working every Saturday, dedicating two hours of your shift to teaching Hyunjin the meaning of flowers that caught his eye, sometimes helping him decently wrap a bouquet of flowers. It was odd how you saw the gentler, less cocky side of him when in the quaint store, yet couldn’t even glance at him on the grounds of school without copping a greasy smirk—you liked to assume they were directed at someone stood behind you.

Saturday, 1:06pm.

The hand of the clock ticked silently with each movement, mixing with the bustling volume of passing cars and pedestrians. Although your gaze was fixated on the time-telling contraption, you didn’t absorb the numbers the hands pointed to, completely zoned out as your mind drifted to other thoughts. There were few of significance, but there were many roaming your head. They were distracting enough to stop you from recognising and acknowledging the sound of the bell above the door. Unbeknownst to you in your distracted state, Hyunjin shuffled into the store with a black hoodie pulled over his unkempt hair, a carton of strawberry milk contained in his right hand. The sound of the carton being roughly placed on the wooden countertop was enough to break your trance, giving you a sense of déjà vu as you shifted your gaze to meet Hyunjin’s, “what’s got you in a trance?”

You sighed as you fiddled with the sealed carton, “the three hours of sleep I got because of your party last night—so nothing new.”

“Oh, ha ha, very funny—”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

“—For your information, that was just a get together with the guys. The party’s actually tonight,” you rolled your eyes. You didn’t care what he wanted to call it, it was still way too loud, “you should come.”

A scoff passed your lips at his suggestion, “I’ll pass, I’d rather not go deaf from how excruciatingly loud you play the music,” he shrugged nonchalantly before snatching the flavoured milk from you, taking a small swig of his own while his eyes darted over the fresh flowers.

“What do coral roses mean?”

“Friendship, modesty, and sympathy,” you mumbled in boredom.

“Perfect!” He exclaimed, waltzing over to the display of coral roses to pluck one up. As he reapproached the counter, he shoved the flower in your face, “if you value our friendship, you’ll have great sympathy for me and make my party enjoyable by being there.”

You watched him in bewilderment. Part of you was confused as to why he wanted you at his party so desperately, while another questioned whether he really just called you friends. You didn’t want to dwell on it too much—Hyunjin was friends with lots of people, you weren’t significant to have that title. At the same time, you couldn’t help but question the meaning of his words. Had Hyunjin ever outright called anyone his friend, other than the group of boys he seemed to be physically attached to? The taller boy watched you in amusement as your cheeks tinted a soft pink colour, deciding to take your silence as a yes.

“Great, it starts at nine.”

Saturday, 9:35pm.

You absolutely did not want to venture to Hyunjin’s house, regardless of the situation. The fact it was for one of his ‘raging parties’ was no better. Nine o’clock had passed thirty minutes ago and the party was well on its way - you could already hear faint retching if you strained your ears enough - and yet you remained in the warmth of your bedroom. If Hyunjin hadn’t directly asked you to come then you wouldn’t be sitting in your room, dressed for a party. If that little shit hadn’t made out like your presence was vital to the party, you wouldn’t have to ponder intently over reasons to bail. You cursed Hyunjin under your breath as you threw on a pair of shoes—he insinuated that he was expecting you, and now you felt like you were obligated to go.

As soon as you opened the front door, a tsunami of regret washed over you, along with the stench of sweat and alcohol. You had taken one step inside and already felt overheated, overwhelmed, over it. You’d caught sight of some familiar faces — most of Hyunjin’s friend group surrounded some curly-haired guy, Jeongin was chatting with Felix near the group, Hyunjin was nowhere in sight. You weren’t sure whether that was a good or bad thing—on the one hand, Hyunjin was someone you knew. Jeongin was wrapped up in a conversation with Felix, and you didn’t know the freckled boy well enough to insert yourself into that conversation. But at the same time, Hyunjin was probably half-past wasted right now with an amplified ego — if that was even possible — and even more unbearable cockiness. A sigh passed your lips as you began to push your way past the sweaty bodies—why was everyone so fucking sweaty?—to escape to a less crowded area. Truthfully, you had no clue where you were going. Of course you didn’t, this was a house you’d never had the desire to enter. Gosh, why did you even come? It wasn’t too late to turn back around, walk out that door and return to your semi-quiet bedroom—only semi-quiet due to the deafening volume of an infamous Hwang party, even from houses away. That would be the better option in this moment, partial deafness seemed better to deal with than complete deafness.

“Y/N!”

You take it back. Complete deafness was far better, especially in this moment. Perhaps if you kept walking he’d think it wasn’t you and give up, right? No, of course not. You’d never be that lucky. You’d made it ten more steps before the boy grabbed your wrist and spun you around, beaming at you with his childlike grin. You loved Jeongin, who didn’t? But all you wanted was to go home, this party was a mistake and you already knew it. A small smile graced your face, “hey, Innie.”

Jeongin was one of those people who were always happy, always smiling and living their days without any problems or bothers. He was persistent, persuasive and currently dragging you towards the group of people he previously stood near. You didn’t want to go over there, but if you refused Jeongin would look at you with a tiny hint of sadness in his eyes and you’d feel a tonne of guilt land on your shoulders—he didn’t mean to guilt trip people so easily, he was just one of those people that never deserved to be sad. Thankfully, Jeongin knew better than to throw you into a sea of strangers and expect you to survive, opting to drag you over to Felix, who snacked on a plate of colourful macaroons. You’d never spoken to Felix — the most you knew about him was that he was Australian, Hyunjin’s friend and had freckles — but you had a gut feeling he wasn’t as bad as his association with the delinquents would suggest. The boy smiled brightly at the two of you, seeming to emit rays of sunshine through the toothy grin; he seemed sweet and friendly. You should really just trust Jeongin’s judgement at this point, he always managed to construct more accurate judgement on an individual’s character than others, “hi, Y/N!” Felix was very bright and cheerful, it came across in his sober voice—at least you assumed he was sober, he didn’t reek of toxic alcohol like most of the party goers. You smiled slightly in response, waving in what you deemed an awkward fashion. Jeongin easily continued his previous conversation with Felix, one you tuned out for the most part as you instead focused on the suffocating and humid atmosphere, until Felix suddenly bid goodbye to the younger, disappearing into the mass of people. The remaining boy contentedly munched on a pastel pink macaroon, eyes sparkling and widening slightly under the hazy lights of the room.

“Jeongin, do you know where I can get some fresh air?”

The boy nodded swiftly, directing you to walk up the stairs, down the hallway and onto the balcony, away from the vomiting and skinny dipping teens. You nodded with a soft thank you before happily following his directions — if you couldn’t leave this wretched atmosphere, for no reason other than your own fabricated obligation to be here, then you might as well get as far away from it without leaving the property.

The moonlight glistened against the chlorine water, music pumping through the building and teenagers yelling to hear each other. Oddly enough, it was peaceful. Even with the splashing, drunken giggles and what you think is people having a sloppy makeout session, the atmosphere felt calming — the visuals of party goers vomiting and skinny dipping didn’t assist in building that atmosphere, but you supposed there was nothing you could do about it. At least, not until a hand tapped your shoulder, breaking you from your trance of observing people on the grass. You turned your head, met with the sight of Hyunjin with his hands in his pockets. He gestured for you to follow him and, for some reason, you did, leaving your spot on the second floor balcony.

It was quieter on the roof, somehow, despite the worrisome journey. You were thankful for your shoe choice, anything too uncomfortable or without proper grip would’ve had you tumbling to the ground below—that would’ve been embarrassing, painful, and potentially lethal if you landed on the concrete. The stars glimmered against the dark night sky, seemingly closer than most other nights. Hyunjin hadn’t spoken to you at all, even during the difficult climb to your current spot. You weren’t entirely sure why he’d escaped his own party, or why he’d taken you with him, but you weren’t mad about it. The silence was nice, and you were certain that opening his mouth would dismantle the tranquillity. If he was as wasted as most of his other friends — specifically Jisung — then he’d certainly come out with some horny bull shit. You weren’t in the mood for that, not now, not ever. The music softened in the background and a loud voice ordered everyone out of the house with a short “party’s over”. It seemed sudden, but you supposed it had been going on for a while. And Hyunjin had disappeared. What time was it?

“Can I ask you something?” Ah, shit, he actually wanted to talk. You mumbled a word of confirmation, waiting for Hyunjin to come out with something you could answer with sarcasm or an eye roll, “what do you think of me? Honestly,” you weren’t expecting that one. You could feel Hyunjin train his eyes on you with intent, curiosity, perhaps hopefulness. What were you supposed to say? Was he hoping for something other than the typical ‘bad boy’ description? You couldn’t provide.

“I think you’re… confident,” uncertainty laced your tone, “and curious. I think there’s more to you than meets the eye, but I don’t think many people see that part of you. And- I don’t think you want them to,” you turned your gaze to him. His eyes seemed to be glazed over, his mind in a distant land of existential thoughts or offence at how you perceived him. His brown orbs shifted to his lap while his lips stumbled over words, seeking a way to carry on the conversation—or end it, you supposed.

“I…” he trailed off hesitantly. This was a side to Hyunjin you’d never seen. Sure, you’d seen his confidence and cockiness at school, his laidback humour at parties and the admiration his eyes held whenever he was among flowers, but you’d never seen him look so confused. Lost, rather. He seemed anxious, on edge and scared. He didn’t want to confront the words forming on his tongue, didn’t want to break down his walls for someone who saw him every Saturday and taught him about flowers. He couldn’t help it, though, the words seemed to slip out without permission, “I feel like no one truly knows me.”

Hyunjin’s words hung heavily in the air as a hush fell over the neighbourhood, “I just―” he paused slightly as his breath hitched, raising his gaze from his lap to the starry night. His eyes were glossy, the stars twinkling against the water forming around his orbs. His walls were breaking, “I just wish I could go somewhere no one knew me,” as the sentence progressed, his voice shook. It was getting harder to keep it all in. For once, he decided to let it all go. Allowing his walls to crumble, the dams in his eyes broke too, tears glistening on his smooth cheeks as he choked up a sob. You watched him with pity, subconsciously moving to wrap your arms around him in a comforting hug. He sobbed into your chest, “I just want people to know who I really am.”

All your perceptions were based on falsehoods, fabricated rumours and retellings of old stories. He used his tough exterior to hide his crumbling contents, any traits that could be taken as weakness or fragility. As the boy ― because that’s what he truly was: just a boy ― cried under the stars, only one thought could cross your once racing mind. Hwang Hyunjin’s very existence was a lie. Hyunjin’s pained sobs were reduced to soft sniffles after what felt like a long time, though tears still soaked his cheeks. You couldn’t tell how long it had been since everything still looked the same, almost like time didn’t move. A shaky breath passed Hyunjin’s lips, his head raising from your shoulder.

“You know, I always thought you were really interesting. And pretty.”

“Hyunjin, you don’t mean that,” you dismissed. Your head shook slightly in disagreement, you didn’t want Hyunjin to tell you that you meant something.

A humourless laugh echoed in the night, “yeah, I really do.”

Hyunjin looked at you with intent. How did the night get to this point? There was a part of you that wished you stayed home, just so you didn’t have to feel these butterflies in your stomach. He must’ve been drunk―was he drunk? Were you drunk? Memories of the night had slipped through your fingers like warm brittle sand. The night sky danced on his cheeks, reflecting against the salty water his eyes had unleashed previously. His eyes stayed on your face, flickering from your eyes to the lower part of your face momentarily. Then, he was leaning forwards, closer and closer. Closer until his lips were pressed against yours in a piteous kiss. His hand moved from his side to touch your arm, just above your elbow, as if he was making sure you didn’t slip away from him. It was like he wanted you there, but you couldn’t believe that. Salty tears stained your lips in the midst of pitiful desperation, until Hyunjin pulled away to rest his forehead against yours. His breathing was sharp as he choked out a whisper, “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to feel alone anymore, even if it’s only for a moment.”

You could’ve sighed in disappointment, but you stopped yourself. That’s all you’d ever be to Hyunjin: temporary. A last resort, even. You didn’t mind―no, you didn’t want to mind. As the moonlight danced along your skin in hues of blue and grey, the epiphany of falling for Hyunjin sank in. Damn it, you really fucking minded.

Tuesday, 7:57am.

You’d made a point to avoid Hyunjin since the incident at the party ― or, rather, after the party. Every time you glanced his way in the hallways, he was already staring at you with enough intensity to make you shift uncomfortably. He’d tried to approach you during break yesterday, but you bolted with the excuse of needing to use the bathroom before he could open his mouth. You left a disheartened and anxious Hyunjin behind, as well as a confused Jeongin and querying Seungmin. A sigh passed your lips at the thought; you’d probably have to face him on Saturday, regardless of whether you did or didn’t want to. Hyunjin was persistent, after all.

But he was also a liar. It became most obvious when you were approaching the classroom with your locker hurriedly, attempting to sort your belongings out before morning roll call began. Glancing absentmindedly down the hallway, you halted in your tracks with a double-take as you processed what you’d seen. Hyunjin, the boy who claimed to find you pretty and interesting, leaning against a wall as he sucked face with Son Bongcha. She was in the year below and had an annoying voice, that’s all you knew about her―she also had an iron grip on his wrists, but you didn’t see that. You glanced away dejectedly, rushing away to save yourself from further embarrassment. What did you expect? Hyunjin said he just didn’t want to feel alone, you didn’t actually mean anything to him. How could you be foolish enough to let yourself fall for him? He played you, in more ways than one. He acted like he cared, claimed he was different, and kissed you as if he was actually attracted to you―and you made the mistake of kissing back the same way.

Hyunjin fought against the grip of Bongcha, shoving her away with a mix of disgust and anger across his features, “what the fuck is wrong with you?” He hollered. Her eyes held innocence, satisfaction, delusion. The girl’s face faltered with confusion, her mouth opening to spit an excuse in that unbearable squeaky tone. Hyunjin didn’t want to hear it, even if he’d questioned her, “stay the fuck away from me.” With one last seething glare, Hyunjin stormed away from the younger girl. He was just thankful no one was around to see it and spread rumours about what they saw, the last thing he needed was a school full of people convinced he was with Bongcha―at least, that’s what he was telling himself to stay calm.

Nothing was out of place at lunch. Everyone sat in their regular seats, having the same conversations and engaging in the usual banter with their friends―your friends were no different. Jeongin was encouraging Seungmin to meet his other friends, namely Felix, while Yuqi smiled softly at their trivial bickering. Things were different for you, though. They were bad. You had too many thoughts racing through your mind, as they were in a sprinting race with no determined finish line. This day sucked, but things could only get worse with your luck. A throat cleared behind you, “Y/N?” You turned around lifelessly, meeting the gaze of Hyunjin while the rest of your table―and the surrounding tables―watched the scene unfold silently. It was none of their business, they knew that, but no one cared, “can I speak with you? Alone?” With a slight nod, you stood from your seat and followed him into the hallway.

“I was just wondering if we could do the tutoring on Thursday instead of Saturday? I’m busy this weekend and we don’t have after-school studying on Thursdays,” he rubbed at his neck awkwardly.

“Yeah, fine.”

A relieved smile graced his lips, quickly falling at the memory of the other thing he wanted to talk about, “and―uh, about the party… I didn’t mean―”

“Forget it, Hyunjin. I know what you meant,” you tried to suppress the stinging bitterness that leaked through your tone, you didn’t want Hyunjin to know your true feelings on the situation. It would’ve worked if you were as good at lying as he was, but you weren’t going to say that. Hyunjin understood why you felt the way you did ― or, how he assumed you felt. After all, he brushed you off like you meant nothing to him. Just something to fill the void of isolation growing in his heart; the kiss meant nothing. Gosh, he was such a liar. It was an opinion the two of you unknowingly shared―for different reasons, of course.

Thursday, 7:25pm.

An awkward two hours had passed inside the florist. Hyunjin had sensed something was different about you, chalking it up to his careless actions on the weekend. He’d been beating himself up about it since he did it, and he knew you didn’t want to talk about it, but he felt as if he owed you an explanation. One you hadn’t made up by yourself, based on his poor choice of words after it happened. Your delicate hands fiddled with the stems of three white flowers while Hyunjin formulated the right words to say. He didn’t want to mess it up again.

“Y/N, about Saturday ni―”

“God, Hyunjin, just forget about it!” The boy was startled into silence by your outburst, “I know you didn’t mean it, I know it was a mistake!” Frustration and betrayal laced your tone, your cheeks reddening slightly as your face flushed in annoyance.

“I wasn’t―”

“I won’t tell her, okay? But stop lying to me,” Hyunjin’s eyebrows furrowed with perplexity. He couldn’t figure out what you were talking about; he wanted you to listen to him.

“‘Her’? What are you talking about? I’m not lying about anything,” a pit formed in his stomach as anxiety pooled his chest.

“Bongcha,” the name was barely decipherable due to how quietly you spoke it, as if saying it any louder would summon her on the spot. Hyunjin’s face fell, for fuck’s sake, “stop acting like you genuinely care, it’s obvious you don’t.”

Silence settled into the air before a sigh escaped your lips. The flowers slipped from your fingertips as you moved away from the table, “I have to go.”

“Y/N!” Hyunjin spoke desperately, thankful no one was in the shop to see your dispute or his despair.

“Just… don’t talk to me anymore. Please,” with one last sorrowful look, you turned on your heel and exited the store, the sound of the little bell ringing throughout the now empty store. Hyunjin watched you leave, hopeless. How did he fuck it up this badly in such a short amount of time? He hung his head low, eyes glancing towards the flowers you’d dropped moments before.

White chrysanthemums; the truth.

Such a bitter irony, if only you’d stayed to hear it from him. Hyunjin couldn’t help but scoff.

Wednesday, 10:21pm.

Life ― at least, almost two weeks of it ― had been hell for Hyunjin, to put it dramatically, since your confrontation at the flower shop. Every time the two of you met eyes at school you’d quickly divert your gaze, rushing away before Hyunjin could even process what was happening. He never ran after you, partly because he knew you wouldn’t listen to him and partly to avoid other people seeing the interaction. People struggled to mind their own business, he supposed it was human nature for many. Bongcha had made the wise decision of finally listening to Hyunjin and staying the fuck away from him; it was too late, you’d already seen enough to misunderstand his relationship with the younger. He hadn’t understood how he became so attached to you without noticing. That fateful night, when he stumbled over his words after molding his tear-stained lips with yours, he finally realised it was an attachment he feared. When moonlight shone on his salty tears and stars flickered at him with lost hope, the words simmered in the air with a false certainty. He couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol pumping through his blood, he was completely sober that night. No, it was his own fault. It was his slip up, his fabrication that came out sounding more truthful than it was. You weren’t just temporary, a spur of the moment decision he’d never talk about. You meant so much more, that kiss meant so much more. Would you ever see it that way? Hyunjin doubted it. When you told him how you saw him, as per his request, you were slightly inaccurate in your description. Now, your perception had changed, there was no doubt in his mind it had. You saw him as a liar, didn’t you? He could accept and admit that, but not for the wrong reasons. When it came to you, he’d only lied twice: the night of the party and the morning of the party, when he called you his friend. You were so much more than that.

The following afternoon, the universe delivered Hyunjin the perfect opportunity to explain himself to you—even if just partially. He stopped in his tracks as he saw you walking home from school, he assumed you missed the bus or something. With the encouraging words of his friends from the night before echoing in his mind, Hyunjin jogged in your direction, “Y/N!”

Your footsteps sped up, unsuccessfully attempting to keep distance from the long-legged boy, “leave me alone, Hyunjin.”

His hand grabbed at your wrist, “no! Not until you listen to me.”

You sighed exasperatedly, “what do you want?” Your exhausted voice made Hyunjin falter slightly, but he couldn’t miss this opportunity.

“I’m not with Bongcha, I never was, okay? I wouldn’t waste someone like you for someone like her!”

“How am I supposed to believe that?”

So you did see him that way: a liar. He couldn’t blame you, and he didn’t know how to prove you wrong. Why didn’t he think about that? A tugging motion made him snap out of his trance, your wrist leaving his clutches as you turn away and speed walk home.

Thursday, 9:52pm.

Rain pattered against the glass pane of your window. Your eyes followed stray raindrops as they cascaded down the surface, dripping away and out of your sight. The vibrating of your phone rippled across the table, the sound causing your eyes to snap towards the device in a mix of curiosity and annoyance. Lifting your head from the desk, the screen glared at you brightly, causing you to squint to become accustomed to the brightness. There were six messages from Jeongin, an Instagram notification and reminder to take out the trash at 6:00pm. It was now 9:52pm, you needed to mark that reminder as complete. Your finger swiped the messages from Jeongin, opening the conversation and being met with five screenshots. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

| innie ☼ : these are messages between hyunjin and bongcha, please don’t misunderstand their relationship

| why couldn’t hyunjin send these himself?

| innie ☼ : you blocked his number

| innie ☼ : please, y/n, just give him a chance

Your stomach did flips as you read through the messages. Some were from last month, some from last week, some from the day they kissed, but they all conveyed the same message. Hyunjin wasn’t attracted to her, not in the same way she was attracted to him. There was a screenshot of an argument they had on Thursday, after you confronted him at the florist. With furrowed eyebrows, you processed the revelation. He didn’t kiss her? Your expression fell. Gosh, you’d really fucked it up, hadn’t you? He wanted no part in that kiss, and what right did you have to be jealous anyway? You were meant to be friends, after all. His temporary. Even if that title hurt, you still had to take back the words you said, fix whatever relationship you had left with the boy. It was raining outside, of course it was, but you didn’t care. You pattered down the stairs, unlocked the front door as quietly as possible before running out into the rain, fully intending to run over to Hyunjin’s house. There was no need. The boy sat on the curb outside your house, black strands of hair and black attire a void in the dim streetlight. At the sound of the door closing, he turned to see the cause. He was soaking wet, probably cold, and had a lit cigarette hanging from his lips. Black strands of hair were splayed against his face, dripping with rainwater as he continued to be pelted by the droplets. His head turned away from yours, returning his gaze to the moonlight; you two were making an awful habit of meeting under the moonlight. Parting your lips, you prepare to spout heartfelt apologies, even if you don’t completely forgive the words he spoke to you.

“Were you going to come looking for me?” His words escaped before yours could.

“Y-Yeah, I wanted to apologise,” Hyunjin clicked his tongue in disapproval, producing a ‘tch’ sound.

“What for? You don’t owe me shit,” the cigarette found home in his lips, breathing in the toxins with desire.

“For making assumptions about you and Bongcha. I owe you that.”

The cigarette drops against the dark road, soon being grinded into the surface under the sole of Hyunjin’s scuffed sneaker.

“It’s fine, I would’ve made the same assumption,” the boy stood up, his legs straightening with a satisfying crack. How long had he been sitting there? “Are we back to being friends?”

You nodded hesitantly, “yeah. Friends.”

Hyunjin had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want you in the same way you wanted him, on more than one occasion now. He could sense the unease in your voice, as if you were hoping for him to say something more or re-title you as something other than a friend. There was nothing more that he wanted, but he didn’t deserve it. You were too good for him, far too good for him. He was a liar, a delinquent, a bad influence. All he could ever do is hurt you. Even if it pained him to hide it, some things had to be left unsaid.

“Can we—talk about the party?”

The boy looked away from you momentarily, rethinking his decision. It’s for the best, “no. I don’t want to talk about it.”

His tone was icy, brushing you off as if that night meant nothing, “Hyunjin, you bugged me to talk about that for days.”

“Yeah, well it doesn’t matter anymore,” he was exasperated. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore, it would mean revealing his true feelings or making you feel worse. All Hyunjin wanted was to keep you safe and happy; getting wrapped up in him would be your downfall, he just knew it.

“I need to know why you did it.”

“Drop it, Y/N.”

It was a warning you didn’t listen to, “please, Hyunjin.”

“I said, drop it.”

“Why did you do it?” You hadn’t intended for your voice to be so loud, you didn’t mean to shout, your walls broke down involuntarily. The world blurred around you, salty tears forming in your eyes as you thought back to the night, “why did you kiss me when you clearly didn’t feel that way about me? I don’t want to be something to temporarily fix your loneliness.”

Hyunjin kept his eyes down guiltily. He didn’t want to say anything, but your words kept pressing him to speak up. Your voice was echoing around him, cutting through the night sky and tugging at his ears. The sobs that formed in your chest were bubbling out; the rain was mixing with your tears. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t escape what happened. He didn’t want to say anything, but he could feel it slipping out.

“Why would you do that, Hyunjin? I—”

“Because I love you!” The shout rang through the cold air like a lone gunshot, “I love you and it scares me!”

A poignant silence settled around you, the words sinking into your chest and pumping your heart to beat faster. A slip of the tongue and here you were. Days of sadness, anxiety and insecurity, all over Hyunjin’s unknown fear of his feelings. Could that be worth it? “Hyunjin—”

In swift motions, the boy paced towards you to grab your face in his hands. Tilting your head upwards, his lips collided with yours in a show of passion, with every emotion Hyunjin could muster. Thumbs rested gently on your cheeks, laying against the few escaped tears and fallen raindrops, as his lips moved against yours. As the rain pelted your skin, running through your already soaked hair and tickling your exposed skin, words didn’t need to be spoken. When those lips moved against yours, you finally saw the hidden emotions Hwang Hyunjin was so afraid of.

#stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin scenario #hyunjin scenarios #bad boy au #kpop #high school au #florist au #i don't know how to tag #hwang hyunjin scenario #hwang hyunjin scenarios #angst #fluff #skz

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phantasticworks · 4 years

Text

If You Don’t Love Me, Pretend - Chapter Sixteen

hello everyone!!! Sorry for the late update, I’ve been working all week and didn’t get home until late today. If anyone is interested I might do a q&a about the story or a sneak peek or something later tonight as an apology for the late chapter! I hope you enjoy reading! ;)

read on ao3

Words: 10k

Summary: Phil has a sick day and Dan takes care of him.

Plus.... the moment you've all been waiting for

Warnings for this chapter: swearing, sickness

There’s a baby crying. Dan doesn’t know where, but he’s positive he can hear it. He’s trying to find it, walking in the direction of the noise, but it seems like the louder the cries, the slower he moves. It’s like he’s moving in quicksand, but when he looks at his feet, there’s nothing. No ground, no legs. Just the sound of the baby crying. He’s panicked, looking around for someone, anyone, to help. He’s about to call out for help, when his world is jostled. It ruins the atmosphere, everything fading in and out shakily.

The cries are still there, but now he’s not sure it’s a baby. It sounds like-

Dan hears an annoying trill in the background of his subconsciousness, drawing him from his dream. He can sort of piece together that the noise is probably his phone, but he’s still not entirely sure he’s awake. He snuggles down into the warmth of the bed, content to let the noise continue and drift back into his dream.

That is, until he feels a sharp prod to his side, followed by a voice. “Dan. Turn your alarm off.”

“Hm?” Dan murmurs into his pillow.

“Dan.” There’s a pause, and Dan’s finally beginning to think he might be able to go back to sleep, but then he feels a sharp pain in his side.

He jolts at the feeling, rolling over to blink at his apparent assailant. “That fucking hurt!” he hisses.

“Turn the alarm off, Daniel.” Comes Phil’s sharp reply.

Dan blinks sleepily, rubbing at his eyes as he flails about for his phone. “Fine, god.” He stops the alarm before yawning, taking a moment to wake up a little as he sits up. He glances over at Phil, frowning when he sees the blanket pulled over his head.

“What’s wrong with you?” He mutters, still a little annoyed that his wake-up call was a rather pointy elbow to his ribs.

“Nothing,” Phil grits out.

Dan rolls his eyes at the obvious lie. He was too exhausted right now to be seriously concerned. Phil wasn’t a morning person all the time, and maybe the whole parenting thing was getting to him.

“Whatever,” Dan mumbles before going to shower.

When he comes out of the bathroom a little later, Phil is still wrapped entirely in blankets. Dan hums to himself as he grabs a shirt from his side of the closet, sliding his arms in and working on buttoning it up. He scrounges around in one of his drawers, wearing nothing but a pair of pants and the shirt as he looks for some trousers or jeans. He sorts through two drawers before he finds a pair he likes, going to his top drawer to grab some socks, still humming.

“Can you please hurry up?” Phil’s voice is weak and strained, and Dan startles at hearing it in the otherwise silent room.

Frowning, Dan glances over at where Phil’s face is barely peeking out of the blankets. “What is your problem, mate? Why’re you being so tetchy?”

Phil closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. Something about that doesn’t sit well with Dan, but it’s teetering between guilt and annoyance, and he’s not sure which to give into. “I don’t feel well,” Phil says finally. “Just… Can you be a little quieter?”

Dan shrugs. “Yeah, whatever.” He heads into the bathroom to brush his teeth and do something with his hair to the soundtrack of Phil letting out a shaky breath.

After finishing up in the bathroom, Dan heads back into the bedroom. His eyes are immediately drawn to the bed, where he can just barely see Phil’s shoulders shaking, just slightly.

Slowly, quietly, Dan makes his way over to Phil’s side of the bed. He sits carefully on the edge, trying not to jostle him too much. “Phil? Are you okay, bub?” His hand hovers near Phil, a little unsure if he wants the physical comfort right now.

Phil draws in a shuddering breath but makes no attempt to hide the fact that he’d been crying. “I’m fine,” he says, strained.

Dan gently lays a hand in Phil’s hair, stroking gently. Phil doesn’t flinch away, so Dan continues the movements. “Hey… what’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

Dan has to bite his tongue on a sharp rebuttal. “Is it a migraine?” He asks, his chest sinking at the thought.

Phil’s hesitation is answer enough, but he finally says a soft, “Yeah.”

Leaning down, Dan presses his lips to Phil’s temple. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Phil whispers, his tone bitter.

“Not what I meant,” Dan mumbles. He kisses again. “Need anything?”

“No. I just… I wanna be alone.”

And that hurts, just a little. But Dan knows he can only make it better if Phil wants him to, so with another kiss and a soft murmur of, “Okay,” he leaves the room.

The twins are already awake, and he tells them that whoever can be the quietest will get a treat later. He knows it is bribery, but he already feels guilty enough about being loud earlier, so maybe this will atone for that guilt. Levi is practically dead to the world, so it takes a moment to get him up.

“I’m up,” Levi groans.

“Breakfast is gonna be on the road today, buddy. And Phil’s feeling a little under the weather, so try to be as quiet as you can until we leave, yeah?”

Levi nods, waving him off. “Yeah, yeah. Got it.”

Dan heads back downstairs, stopping in the kitchen for a glass of water and a few paracetamol tablets. Phil’s no longer got his head covered up, but his eyes are clenched shut too tightly for him to be asleep. Dan sets down the water and medicine gently before settling on the bed in front of Phil again. He runs a hand down Phil’s arm, rubbing his skin gently. “I brought you some medicine and water, babe.”

“Thanks,” Phil breathes.

Dan feels his gut twist. He hates seeing Phil like this and knowing that he didn’t make it any easier on him earlier makes him feel even worse. “I’m sorry you’re ill,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss Phil’s shoulder.

Phil’s hand finds Dan’s and he squeezes his fingers. He doesn’t speak, and Dan knows he’s probably not making him feel better by sitting here talking. Still, he closes his eyes and just sits there for a moment, stealing that little moment for the two of them before he has to leave. After a moment, he sighs, leaning to kiss Phil’s cheek.

“I’ll call in for you. We’ll be home later, but call me if you need anything, yeah?” Dan rubs Phil’s knuckles with his thumb.

“Yeah,” Phil agrees softly.

Dan nods, mostly to himself, since Phil isn’t looking at him. He moves to leave the room when he hears Phil’s quiet voice behind him. “Hm?”

“The notes,” Phil says, voice wobbly. “I have some notes for the kids in my drawer.” He gestures vaguely to his nightstand.

It takes Dan a moment to process what he means, but when he does he can’t help the fond smile on his face. He quietly pulls the drawer open and finds four stacks of sticky notes. There’s about three or four notes in each stack, but each stack is labelled with a different name. He grabs one note for each of them, making sure his eyes don’t stay too focused on the one with his name for now.

“Alright,” Dan says to indicate he got them. “Get some sleep, baby.”

“Drive safe,” Phil murmurs, his arm covering his eyes. His lips twitch, and Dan hesitates. It was barely a pucker, but when he sees Phil do it again, he steps closer impulsively. Quickly, so that he won’t feel too guilty or awkward about it, Dan leans down and briefly presses his lips to Phil’s in a kiss so fleeting it’s barely a brush.

“Bye, love,” Dan whispers.

He ducks out of the room quickly then, but not before he sees Phil’s lips quirk up, just slightly. The memory warms his chest the entire rest of the morning- through calling in sick for him, to stopping at a café to get the children some breakfast, to dropping them off and strolling into work, a stupid grin on his face.

Louise stares at him suspiciously when he walks in. “What’s got you so smiley?” She demands.

Dan grins at her, shrugging. “I’m just happy, I guess.”

~~~

Happy apparently doesn’t last, as it turns out.

The kids are bubbly and full of life after school, and even Levi is more of a chatterbox than usual. Dan is enjoying it thoroughly, the sounds of them laughing and talking together filling a void in his chest he never realized was empty. They’re still loud and rambunctious as they walk into the flat, although Dan reminds them to use their inside voices in the same breath he uses to chastise the twins for throwing their backpacks down rather than hanging them on their hooks.

He’s humming to himself as he kicks off his own shoes and hangs his bag up, thinking back to the very few messages he’d exchanged with Phil throughout the day.

9:37 AM

Dan: hey bub just checking to see how you’re doing

Phil: I’m okay I guess. Tired :/

Dan: do you need me to come home?

Phil: No

Dan: oh

Dan: okay well ily and I hope you feel better soon x

12:04 AM

Dan: try to eat something for lunch please

Phil: k

1:26 PM

Dan: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GbDV7uxjqlI

Dan: v important content

Phil: read at 1:27 PM

Dan was nervous walking through the flat to their room, already fearing the worst, as if Phil’s texting behavior today was just a signal that today was about to prove to be a bad one. He nudges the door to their bedroom open gently, noting that the lights are off, and the curtains are drawn. He tiptoes to the bed, eyeing the outline of Phil’s body beneath the duvet.

His chest is rising and falling slowly, a sure sign of slumber. One of his arms is curled around Dan’s pillow, tucked into his side, and the other is splayed above his head. As Dan gets closer he notices how shiny Phil’s skin looks, making him pause. Dan’s careful as he creeps forward and cautiously lowers himself to the bed, laying a gentle hand on Phil’s forehead to check for a temperature.

He nearly swears when he feels how uncomfortably hot Phil’s face is, and his anxiety spikes as he notices the shivers that wrack his body sporadically. Dan has no idea how long he’s been asleep or if he’s already aware that he has a fever, but with a renewed sense of anxiety, he reaches for Phil’s shoulder and gently shakes him awake.

“Phil. Phil, bub, c’mon, wake up.” Dan watches as his eyelids flutter open.

“Huh?” His voice is thick with sleep, and his eyes hold a mixture of panic and confusion as they flit around, finally focusing on Dan’s face. “Dan?”

“Yeah, buddy. C’mon, you need to get in the bath, you’re burning up.”

Phil nods vaguely, his eyes fluttering shut again. “Mm,” he mumbles.

“Phil. Hey, wake up. Come on, you have to get up,” Dan reiterates, tugging Phil’s arm. Phil makes a noise of protest, but Dan just tuts at him. “Let’s go, bath.”

“Don’t wanna,” Phil slurs.

Dan sighs, pulling him up and dragging him off the bed, doing his best to hoist him up and guide him into the bathroom. “I know you don’t, but your fever is really high, and I don’t know what to do and I’m freaking out.” The word vomit erupts from his mouth, and he’s selfishly a little glad that Phil seems too out of it to process what he just said.

He lets Phil lean against the sink, quickly moving to fill the bathtub up with water and throwing in some of the peppermint salts that Phil likes. He spins back around when he hears Phil gag, covering his mouth as his panicked eyes find Dan’s. Dan is quick to guide him to the toilet, brushing Phil’s hair back and cringing against the sound of him emptying the contents of his stomach. He’s always hated listening to other people get sick, and to relieve the nausea he feels swirling in his own stomach, he presses his face against Phil’s shoulder blade, trying to minimize his breathing and focus on the sound of running water.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay,” He mumbles, pressing kisses against the damp t-shirt below his mouth as Phil dry heaves. Dan waits for a moment, until he’s almost certain Phil’s done, then quickly pulls away to flush the evidence away. Phil’s face is nearly translucent and haggard as he stares up at Dan, his eyes swimming in tears. “Hey, it’s okay, baby. C’mon, let’s get you in the bath, see if we can get the fever to break.”

Phil nods slowly, standing on baby deer legs and allowing Dan to tug at his shirt. When he hesitates at the waistband of Phil’s pajama bottoms, the older man shrugs. He closes his eyes, looking defeated and exhausted. “It’s not something you haven’t seen before.” Dan chooses not to respond, nodding tersely and making quick work of Phil’s pajama bottoms and pants, keeping his eyes focused solely on his hands. Phil stumbles a little trying to pull his feet out, his hand flying to Dan’s shoulder to hold himself steady. “Er- sorry,” Phil mumbles.

“It’s fine,” Dan replies quietly. He tosses Phil’s clothes into the corner, guiding him over to the tub and helping him lower himself in. The water level has risen almost too much since Dan turned it on, so he’s quick to twist the knob to make it stop.

“Dan,” Phil whines softly as he settles in the water. When Dan looks at him, he’s shivering, his cheeks decorated with streams of tears. “It’s cold.”

Dan feels his heart ache. He hated, more than anything, to see Phil in pain. He brings his hands up to cup Phil’s cheeks, wiping away the moisture there and leaning in to kiss his forehead. “I know, love. But your skin is burning up, I don’t know what else to do.”

Phil’s teeth chatter as he draws his legs up to his chest, hugging his knees. Dan feels this is partly to maintain warmth, but likely because with the cold bath waking him up completely, Phil is aware of his own nakedness. “O-o-kay.”

“You don’t have to stay in here very long,” Dan assures him, brushing a hand through Phil’s hair. “Just about ten minutes, and then we’ll get you back in bed, okay?” Phil only nods, dropping his head to his knees miserably. Dan swallows back the emotion in his throat, petting the back of his head. “I’m going to go check on the kids, I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Phil whispers.

Dan’s quick about heading upstairs, where he can hear the kids playing and arguing over something, probably a game. He’s not very surprised to see a Super Smash Brothers game going on, Levi and Jaiden shoving at each other on the sofa, trying to knock each other’s remotes out of their hands. Amelia is cheering them on from the arm chair, but she’s not very loyal to either side. They don’t notice him there at first, but when Amelia sees him she yelps and jumps up, skipping over to him and holding her arms out.

He scoops her up and gestures to the TV with his vacant hand. “Hey, pause that for a minute, guys.”

Levi presses the button and turns to look at him, while Jaiden protests beside him. “What’s up?” Levi asks, glancing towards the stairs. “Where’s Phil?”

Dan tries not to show how worried he is as he nods to the stairs. “He’s in our room. He’s pretty ill, so I’ve gotta go back down there in a minute and take care of him. I think we’re going to have a takeout kinda night, so you guys think about what you want for dinner, okay? And try not to be too loud up here, if you don’t mind.”

They nod, and Amelia presses her cheek to Dan’s shoulder. “Is Dad gonna be okay?”

With a smile, Dan presses a kiss to her cheek. “Sure, lovebug. He just needs to get some rest.”

“Were we being too loud?” Levi asks, looking guilty.

Dan shakes his head. “No, not at all. So, just keep the volume where it’s at, okay? And when you guys decide what you want, text me and I’ll order it.” He directs the last part to Levi, who nods. “Alright, I’ve gotta go back downstairs, but I’ll be back in a bit.”

The children respond with vague acknowledgements that they’ve heard him, the boys already going back to their game. Dan presses another kiss to Amelia’s head before setting her down and heading back down to his room.

Phil’s still in the bathtub, but he’s not shivering quite as violently as he was before. “Alright, let’s get you out of here,” Dan says quietly when he walks in, trying not to startle him.

Phil still jumps, just a little, but he looks grateful when he looks up at Dan. “Okay.”

Dan grabs a towel and helps Phil stand up, drying him off quickly and reaching out to flick the tab so the tub will drain out. He brings one end of the towel up to Phil’s damp hair, rubbing it against his head gently. Phil giggles a little as Dan does this, and Dan offers him a fond smile. They’re stood so close together, and Dan’s eyes flick down to his lips for a half second. Suddenly, Phil’s not laughing anymore, just staring at Dan with something like expectancy in his eyes.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Dan steps away. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to grab you some pajamas.” Dan’s almost out the door when he hears Phil’s soft voice calling him back. “Hm?”

“Something of yours?” Phil asks, his eyes big and round and hopeful.

Dan bites his lip to hide a smile. “Sure. Be right back.”

~~~

After Phil has gotten dressed in a pair of Dan’s sweatpants and a striped t-shirt, Dan tucks him back into bed before going on a search for a thermometer. He comes back into their room waving it triumphantly, sitting on the edge of the bed and facing Phil, who’s sat against the headboard with his knees pulled up close to his chest. Phil crinkles his nose distastefully but obediently tucks the stick under his tongue and allows it to process. When it beeps, Dan narrows his eyes at it before letting out a sigh of relief.

“36,” He informs Phil, tossing the device onto his bedside table in case they need it again later.

Phil frowns. “That’s still kinda high, isn’t it?”

Dan shrugs. “It’s less than it probably was before.” He leans in then, pressing his lips to Phil’s forehead. He lingers there for longer than is probably necessary, but his hand is itching to run through the hair above Phil’s ear, and Dan can’t help himself. “You’re not as warm as you were before, so I think it probably broke,” he says when he leans away, his hand still stroking Phil’s hair gently.

There’s a strange look on Phil’s face but he nods. “I feel a little better, I guess.” He sounds like he resents this fact, and Dan has to laugh. Phil always was such a baby about cold baths.

“Well, good. I was freaking the fuck out, honestly.”

Phil’s eyebrows draw together. “Why?”

Dan tilts his head and quirks an eyebrow in disbelief. “Come on. You know why.” When Phil gives him a vacant look, Dan makes a noise that’s something between a snort and a cough. “I just… I worry when you don’t feel well. And it makes me sad to see you hurting.”

Apparently, this is the right thing to say, because a grin slowly stretches across Phil’s lips. Dan’s already cringing, prepared for Phil to come up with something ridiculous to say to that, probably something mildly insulting. Instead, he leans forward, resting his head on Dan’s shoulder and pressing a kiss to Dan’s collarbone. “Thank you for taking care of me, bear.”

Dan’s heart clenches at the nickname. He raises a hand, carding his fingers through Phil’s hair and kissing his head. “Of course,” he says, his voice softer than he’d intended. He’s just about to ask if Phil wants to lay down for a nap when the sound of a ringtone interrupts him.

Phil’s nose crinkles as he looks to the side, where the sound is coming from his phone. He leans away from Dan, sighing deeply. “It’s my mum.” He sounds exhausted, even more so than before, staring at the phone like he wishes it would erupt into flames.

“Want me to answer for you?” Dan asks, eyeing the mobile.

Without a word, Phil hands it to him.

“Hello, child. I was starting to think you weren’t going to answer an old woman’s call.” Kathryn’s playfully reprimanding voice greets him when he swipes to answer.

Dan can’t help but grin, moving on the bed to settle himself beside Phil as he chats with the other man’s mother. He loves Kathryn dearly, always has. “Hi, Kath,” Dan laughs. “This is Dan, actually.”

“Dan!” She sounds genuinely pleased to hear it’s him. It makes Dan’s heart warm. He glances at Phil and finds him staring at him with a soft look. “How are you, love? It’s been too long since you’ve called, you know.”

Even as playful as the reprimand is, it makes Dan hang his head in real embarrassment. He actually does try to call her from time to time; there’s just some maternal comfort there that he doesn’t quite find with his own mum. “I know, sorry about that. It’s been rather hectic around here lately.” He glances up at Phil again, his lips twisted in silent question. He didn’t really know what all Phil told his mum about their situation, so he wasn’t really sure what he needed to say.

Phil just shrugs, then nods. His mother is already chattering away in Dan’s ear, giving away what she knows without hesitation. “-and he said you had the older one now, as well. Luke, was it?”

“Levi,” Dan corrects gently. “They’re all lovely kids, really sweet.”

Kathryn coos at this. “I’m so glad Phil and you finally sorted yourselves out. Can’t believe you managed to keep it from us for so long, though.” She laughs then, and Dan awkwardly follows. He very carefully does not meet Phil’s gaze. “I suppose I should ask about my son, while I’ve got you,” she says, her voice teasing.

Dan actually laughs at this, giving Phil a cheeky smile when he furrows his eyebrows. Reaching up unthinkingly, Dan brushes his thumb across Phil’s eyebrows, smoothing them out with gentle strokes. Phil smiles at him, tilting his head and nosing against Dan’s palm, prompting him to stroke his cheek instead. It’s weirdly intimate, but Dan doesn’t drop his hand. Instead, he answers Kathryn, his eyes focused on Phil’s face. “Well, he’s ill today, actually.”

“What’s wrong?” Kathryn’s voice has lost all humor and is coated with that distinct Mum Concern that she’s patented. “Is he alright?”

Phil must hear this, because he rolls his eyes, shifting back. Dan’s hand falls out of reach, and he laments the loss for a second. Only a second, because when Phil’s comfortable he drops his head to Dan’s shoulder, and yeah, that’s better. “He’s fine, I think. Had a migraine this morning and when I came home he had a fever.”

“Poor lamb,” Kathryn coos. Dan can’t tell how serious she is. Phil is a grown man, after all. “Did you get the temperature down?”

Dan nods before remembering she can’t see him. “I did, yeah. He hates me for it, but I reckon a cool bath won’t kill him.”

“It wasn’t cool, it was freezing,” Phil complains loudly.

Rolling his eyes, Dan’s about to respond when he hears Kathryn laugh. “Well, if he can complain about it, he must be feeling better.”

“He is, he’s just a baby,” Dan teases, mainly to see the adorable way it makes Phil glare at him. “Did you want to speak to him? I think he’s feeling well enough for me to hand the phone off.”

Phil gives him a pained look, but Dan grins, knowing already that Kathryn will say no.

“Oh, that’s alright. Let him rest, I can talk to him tomorrow. But love, do call me every now and again, yeah? And maybe visit soon?” She sounds so hopeful, and Dan knows already that he can’t say no to her.

He also can’t blindly promise he’ll do something like that, though, so instead he just makes a noncommittal noise. “Of course, Kath.”

“Tell Phil to get well soon, that’s an order. I love you both, Dan. Don’t forget about that visit.”

Dan laughs. “Sure thing. Love you too. Bye.”

After he’s hung up the phone, he sighs, leaning over to drop it on the nightstand before looking at Phil. He’s got a thoughtful look on his face, but his eyes aren’t meeting Dan’s. He decides to let that go for now. “You alright?”

Phil nods, his gaze refocusing and shifting to Dan’s. A small smile tugs at his lips as he drops his head back to Dan’s shoulder. “Thanks for talking to her for me. I don’t feel like talking to anyone right now.”

This makes Dan freeze a little. Of course, Phil needs to rest. Dan doesn’t need to sit in here keeping him from taking a nap. He slowly shifts, moving to climb off the bed, but then Phil’s arm is around his waist, holding him there tightly. “Not you, you don’t count,” he protests, rolling his eyes.

His heart and face warming, Dan settles back down, gingerly moving his arm to rest around Phil’s shoulder. Maybe he does this to play with Phil’s hair, but that’s his business.

They sit like that in silence for several long minutes. Phil eventually sighs contently and slowly pulls away, causing Dan’s hand to slip away from his hair. “How’re the kids?”

Dan then remembers that he promised to order them some takeout of their choice. “Hungry, probably,” he laughs, reaching for his phone to check for a message from Levi. “I told them to let me know what they wanted for dinner and I’d just order in tonight.”

Levi: twins said they want pizza

Dan: are you good w that

Levi: yep

“Do you think you could eat some pizza?” Dan asks, glancing up at Phil after reading Levi’s message.

Phil’s nose scrunches up in distaste. “I’m not really hungry,” he admits.

Dan narrows his eyes. “What did you have for lunch?” Phil’s silence is all he needs to know that he hasn’t eaten at all today. “You have to eat something. I can order you some soup?”

“If I have to,” Phil pouts.

“You’re so whiny,” Dan teases, pulling up the website for their favorite pizza place on his phone.

Phil knocks his knee against Dan’s side gently. “Don’t bully me, I’m ill,” he protests weakly.

Dan smiles fondly. “Oh, you poor baby,” he simpers.

“Shut up,” Phil giggles, sticking his tongue out at Dan.

After getting some pizza and soup ordered, Dan texts Levi to let him know that the pizza was being delivered soon. “Do you think you’ll want to eat in here?”

Phil shakes his head. “I want to eat with you guys,” he says. He leans his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. “I already feel like an invalid, I’d really like to eat dinner with my family.”

Dan frowns at the bitter tone in his voice. Leaning forward, he rests his cheek against Phil’s knee, his hand coming up to stroke his thigh gently, staring at the Game of Thrones logo there. “You’re not an invalid,” He murmurs. “You’re not well today, but that isn’t your fault.”

There’s a long pause, and Dan thinks Phil probably won’t respond. Then, there’s a hand in his hair, scratching at his scalp perfectly. “Thank you,” Phil breathes. “I… Yeah. Thanks, bear.”

With a smile, Dan tilts his head, pressing a kiss to Phil’s knee through the fabric of the sweatpants. “Anytime.”

~~~

After a sort of subdued dinner with the kids, Phil announces that he wants to watch a movie. Dan, quick to comply to any of Phil’s demands today, agrees easily. He’d watched Phil grow steadily frustrated as the kids constantly shot him worried looks, staying quieter than usual, per Dan’s request. He feels a little guilty for telling them that Phil was sick, but he knew they were just trying to do what they thought was right, and he appreciated that deeply.

Still, he could tell it was wearing on Phil.

“What movie do you wanna watch?” Dan asks him, standing to clear the table.

Phil shrugs. “Can we use that little mini projector we bought a few months ago?” He asks, sounding hopeful.

Dan thinks back to earlier this summer, when Phil surprised him with a mini projector for his birthday. Dan had a sneaking suspicion Phil just wanted it for himself but didn’t want to buy it for himself, so buying it for Dan was the compromise. They’d used it a few times, since it allowed them to be lazy and lay in bed while they shot it across the room to the wall opposite the bed, or even onto the ceiling. It was really a good investment, if he was being honest.

“Sure, bub. Do you guys wanna watch a movie with us in our room?” Dan asks the kids, glancing over at the table from where he’s begun stacking the dishes in the dishwasher.

Levi looks up from where he’d been gathering trash, a sort of deer-in-the-headlights look on his face. Before he has a chance to respond, though, Amelia beats him to it.

“Yes!” She cheers excitedly.

“What’re we watching?” Jaiden asks, tapping the table as he waits for the answer.

“That’s up to Dad, he’s the sick one,” Dan says with a shrug.

Phil snorts, whether at the casual way Dan calls him that or the fact that he’s being elected the decision maker based on his health status, Dan’s not sure. “We can watch Wall-E?” It’s a suggestion, but his voice lilts up nervously at the end like a question.

Dan pauses unintentionally, glancing over at him with a raised brow. He hadn’t seen the movie in a while, but back when they first met, when Dan first visited Phil at his parents’ house in Rawtenstall, they’d watched that movie and cried together. It’s still one of Dan’s fondest, unblemished memories of them.

“Sure, baby. We can watch Wall-E,” Dan murmurs softly, closing the dishwasher and setting it to run for a cycle. He moves over to the table, stopping behind Phil’s chair and wrapping his arms around his neck, leaning down and kissing his temple. It’s more affectionate than he’d usually allow himself to be with their current audience, but he’s feeling particularly fond today, especially with Phil being sick and letting Dan actually take care of him for once.

Phil’s hand comes up to stroke at Dan’s forearm, so Dan stays there for a moment, reveling in this rare moment of intimacy. It’s nice, he thinks to himself. “Levi?” Phil calls softly. “Would you like to come watch the movie with us?”

Levi glances over at them, looking away quickly. Dan gets a bitter feeling in his gut, something akin to guilt for making him uncomfortable with the PDA. When he goes to pull away, though, Phil tightens his grip. Dan stays.

“Er, I think I’ve got some homework I should probably do,” Levi excuses himself.

“Oh. Well, alright,” Phil says. He sounds disappointed. “Well, if you change your mind, you can always come join us, yeah?”

Levi nods vaguely before rising from his seat and gesturing to the stairs. “Yeah, sure. Can I go to my room?”

“Sure,” Dan answers, nodding. “If you need any help on your homework, let me know.”

The teen just nods before exiting to his room. Dan feels his stomach sink, disappointed that Levi still doesn’t feel like he’s part of their family. He tries to push that feeling away for now, turning to grin at the kids.

“Who’s ready for a movie night?”

~~~

The projector is fantastic, Dan thinks. They can settle it on one of their nightstands and point it to the wall and it’s just the perfect size. It connects to a phone, so Dan has it connected to his, keeping it on the charger while the movie plays. The twins were so excited when they realized it was a projector, and Dan honestly wished they could really make a movie night out of it and have popcorn. However, he was unwilling to make the bed after eating popcorn in it, and as much as he loved the kids, he didn’t trust them to not get popcorn crumbs and kernels in his clean sheets.

Still, he thinks they were thoroughly enjoying themselves. Amelia had wanted to be sat beside Phil, and Jaiden had pretty much crawled onto Dan’s lap the moment they got on the bed. It was comfortable and domestic, being squished together with his family on his bed. And the choice of movie had his eyes going a little misty every time he looked at Phil or thought back to that first weekend they spent together, when things were so unsure, and when he thought there was a chance that they might go in a different direction.

They never had, obviously. But Dan can’t say he regrets becoming Phil’s best friend, because that’s been one of the best things that’s ever happened to him. He has to say that fostering these kids is definitely competing with the top spot these days.

They’re probably less than half an hour into the movie when Dan catches movement out of the corner of his eye. Levi is hovering awkwardly at the door, like he’s unsure if he should come inside or not. Dan smiles at him, motioning for him to join them. “C’mon, there’s room for you too, bub.”

Levi offers him an embarrassed smile, glancing at the wall where the movie is being projected. “Sorry,” he whispers, coming closer. Phil glances over at him and smiles brightly. “I just… got kinda bored. Didn’t wanna be alone.”

“You don’t have to be alone, Levi. C’mere, we’ll move over so you can sit with us.” Dan turns to Amelia and pats her knee. “Mia, love, scooch over to sit in Dad’s lap, so Levi can come sit down.”

Amelia does as she’s told, scooting over and sitting atop Phil’s thighs. He moves to the edge of the bed, allowing Dan to scoot in beside him. Dan gets a little closer than is probably necessary, trying to give Levi as much room as possible, and also just to feel closer to Phil. As soon as they’re situated, Dan pats the bed.

Levi looks a little apologetic as he walks around to Dan’s side, settling himself on the bed and sitting a little stiffly beside him. Jaiden barely gives him a chance to get settled, crawling over to sit in Levi’s lap.

“Traitor,” Dan teases.

Jaiden giggles, sticking his tongue out at Dan. “Sorry, Daddy,” he chirps.

Dan scrunches his nose up with a smile. He watches as Levi settles a little more calmly, probably due to Jaiden’s presence in his lap giving him something to focus on other than feeling awkward about being in there in the first place.

Turning back to the movie, Dan spares a glance over at Phil. He’s already looking at Dan, but a soft smile melts onto his lips when their eyes meet. Dan feels that new familiar warmth blossom in his chest, and this time he lets it consume him, warming the tips of his ears and tingling in the pads of his fingers. To settle himself and ground that feeling, he lays his head on Phil’s shoulder. Phil’s head falls to rest against Dan’s, and it’s so, so nice.

“Still love this movie,” Phil whispers to Dan.

“Mhm. Me too.”

“Sleepy?”

“Mm. No. Just happy.”

Phil raises his head, tilting his face to look at Dan’s. Dan nearly laughs at the surprised smile there. “Good,” Phil says softly. He kisses the tip of Dan’s nose gently before settling his cheek back against the top of Dan’s head. “I’m glad you’re happy, bear.”

“Me too.”

It’s no surprise, really, that Amelia shushes them, but it is funny. They apologize profusely, which she reminds them is also distracting. Pretending to zip his lips, Dan settles back against Phil with a contented sigh and a warm chest.

~~~

When the movie ends, Dan accepts the snuggles that Jaiden and Amelia seem keen on giving him. Amelia wedges herself between he and Phil, wrapping an arm around Dan’s torso and shoving at Jaiden when he tries to join in. Dan tuts at her and she withdraws, although she doesn’t look particularly happy about it. Levi looks over at them, his mouth twisted like he wants to be mad about it but isn’t sure how.

“Can you tell us a story, Daddy?” Amelia asks, looking up at Dan with wide eyes.

He starts to protest, intending on telling her that it’s time for bed, but he catches the expectant look on Phil’s face and immediately caves. “Sure. What kind of story would you like to hear?”

Amelia shrugs, closing her eyes and settling in. “Dunno. Just make something up.”

Dan rolls his eyes fondly, his gaze falling to Jaiden. “Jai-bird? Any requests?”

He seems to consider it but shakes his head. “Just animals,” he says simply.

“Alright, I can work with animals.” He leans his head back, trying to think of a story idea. He liked to think he was alright at this part of the whole parenting thing, but he wasn’t actually positive about that, honestly. His gaze falls to Phil, who’s watching him with soft, half-lidded eyes. Suddenly, he’s got just the story. “So, once upon a time, there was a little bear. We’ll call him Bear, for now.”

Levi shifts on the bed then, distracting Dan a little. When he looks at him, though, Levi gestures for him to continue. Something about that, about Levi willingly spending time with them under objectively childish circumstances, really warms Dan’s heart.

“So, Bear was really lonely, and he lived in a cave all by himself. He had a family, but they lived in a different cave on a different mountain. One day, Bear decided to go out in the woods, and he found a stream. Beside the stream was a lion.” Dan purposefully avoids Phil’s attempt at making eye contact. He swallows hard. “We’ll call him Lion.”

“Lions don’t live in the woods,” Jaiden observes quietly.

Dan has to laugh at that, and even Phil lets out a chuckle. Leaning down, Dan kisses Jaiden’s hair. “Well, that’s why it was such a big deal for Bear to find Lion. Bear felt like he was all alone in the forest, but here was this other person- er, animal,” he corrects himself. “Who liked the same things. They liked the same berries, and games, and they even had a favorite star-leaf tree they would meet at to hang out.”

“Lions don’t eat berries,” Jaiden says solemnly.

“Jai, shut up,” Levi says good-naturedly, poking his brother in the back. “Dan’s trying to tell a story.” He grins at Dan, and Dan’s heart swells.

Jaiden lets out a long-suffering sigh, but gestures for Dan to continue.

“Well, don’t worry, Bear and Lion hunted together. They did everything together, actually. And so, there Bear was, thinking he was all alone in this big forest, but he realized that really, Lion was just like him.” Dan feels Phil’s head resting against his shoulder then, and he pauses, closing his eyes for a second and leaning his head against Phil’s. “One day, Bear decided he wanted to leave the forest, so he told Lion he wanted to move to the city.”

“The jungle, you mean,” Phil says quickly, saving the story when Dan is clearly slipping.

“Right, the jungle,” Dan nods. “So, Lion tells Bear that he doesn’t want him to leave, so Bear asks him to join. Lion agrees. They have lots of adventures on the trip, of course.” Dan rambles for a moment about the adventures, making it up as he goes. It doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense, if Dan is being honest with himself, but if the kids have any sort of problem with it, they don’t say.

“So, Lion and Bear finally made it to the jungle, and after all that time, they decided they’d find themselves a little cave all by themselves, away from everyone else.” Dan is finally at the conclusion, and he can feel Amelia’s deep, even breaths against his chest. Jaiden doesn’t look to be that far from sleep himself. “They built their little home together in the jungle and lived happily ever after. The end.”

Jaiden blinks sleepily. “They love each other?” he asks, his words sort of slurred together at this point.

“Hm?” Dan asks.

“Lion and Bear,” Jaiden says, gesturing vaguely. “You said, “Happy ever after” and that’s a love story thing.”

“Not always,” Dan says, laughing awkwardly, hyper-aware of Phil pressed against his side.

Jaiden shrugs, closing his eyes. “’S okay. If they do.”

“Yeah,” Dan hums. “Yeah, that’s okay.” Before Jaiden can fully drift to sleep, Dan nudges him. “C’mon, bubby, time for bed.”

“I’ve got him,” Levi says, standing up and leaning back down to scoop his brother up.

“Thanks, Levi,” Dan says gratefully. He carefully scoots to the edge of the bed before leaning back in and cradling Amelia to his chest. His eyes catch Phil’s and the older man offers him a sweet smile. “I’ll be right back,” Dan whispers.

Phil nods, waving him off. “Take your time.”

Dan follows Levi down the hall, going to deposit Amelia on her bed when they’ve walked in the room. She makes a noise in her sleep, but Dan shushes her, and she quiets right back up, curling up in the bed immediately after he lays her down. He carefully lifts one of her little arms and tucks her favorite plushy, currently this is a stuffed elephant, under it, pulling the duvet up and tucking her in. “Night, love,” he breathes, kissing her hair.

He turns to do the same with Jaiden, only to find Levi sat on the edge of his bed, watching Dan carefully. Dan offers him a smile, unsure if Levi is upset by his displays of affection or just confused. “Do you always do that?” Levi asks, his voice quiet.

Bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, Dan shrugs. “I mean, most nights. Sometimes we swap, and Phil does that, but usually he wakes them up and I put them to bed.”

Levi nods, looking past Dan to his sister. “Our parents didn’t do that,” he whispers.

Dan’s heart stops. He’s sure of it. This is the first time Levi has been particularly open about their parents, and the twins had said next to nothing about their previous home life. Hazel had told him this sometimes happened when the children wished to repress memories. Levi being fifteen and therefore not in that repressive stage, Dan was surprised it had taken him this long to mention them.

“Yeah?” Dan says gently, trying to leave space for Levi to say anything if he wanted to.

“They didn’t tuck them in. I don’t even remember them ever tucking me into bed, either.” He swallows hard, his eyes slowly drifting over to Dan’s. “They definitely didn’t tell us stories and carry us to bed after a night of family bonding and watching movies.” His voice is bitter, and Dan tries not to take that personally.

“I’m sorry,” Dan murmurs. He steps over to sit carefully on the opposite end of the bed, giving Levi some space. “I hate that you and your brother and sister had that experience. I wish… I wish it didn’t happen.”

Levi shrugs, looking down at the floor and kicking a stuffed rabbit idly. “’S whatever. We’re here now, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Dan tries to phrase his next words carefully. “Well, something can hurt you more after it’s over than when it really happens. It’s kind of like being put to sleep for surgery. You may not be totally aware of what’s happening as it happens, but it hurts like a bitch when you wake up, right?”

There’s a surprised look on Levi’s face, probably at the swear, but he nods slowly. “Yeah. I guess.”

They sit there in silence for a moment, as Dan’s run out of wise things to say and is honestly a little afraid of waking up the twins with all the talking. “Well, it’s late, buddy. I think we should both head to bed.”

Levi nods, sparing a last look at his brother and sister before standing. “Okay,” he mumbles. He moves to hover by the door, and he waits there as Dan tucks in Jaiden and kisses his forehead, leaning down to pick up his bunny plushie and lay it next to him. When he steps out into the hall behind Levi, he finds him standing there with a thoughtful expression. “You’re not so bad, you know.”

Dan smiles at him. “I’m glad to hear that, actually. Sometimes I wonder.”

The teenager smiles and laughs quietly. “Night, Dan.”

“Goodnight. Sweet dreams, kiddo.”

~~~

Halloween comes in a flurry of decorating, pumpkin carving, and costume buying. Of course, with two small children whose minds changed every other day, it took longer than Dan thought it seriously needed to for them to decide on a costume. Finally, after much debate (mostly between the twins and Phil, who was much more invested in the decision making than Dan was) a decision was finally made.

“Daddy!” Amelia squeals from the bottom of the stairs.

“Yeah, love?” Dan is sat on his bed, folding clothes. He knew Phil had been upstairs with the kids after dinner watching a movie, but Dan had just wanted some quiet alone time. Doing laundry was the only excuse he could think of in the face of Phil’s pout when he asked Dan why he didn’t want to stay and cuddle.

Amelia comes bounding in his room, a grin on her face. “We picked our outfits!”

It takes him a second to remember what she’s talking about. “Oh! You decided on what you want to be for Halloween?”

She nods, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Guess what we’re gonna be!”

Phil walks in then, toting a sleepy looking Jaiden.

“We?” Dan asks, quirking his eyebrows at the older man and trying to keep the apprehensive look off his face.

Phil sees right through him, leaning against the wall and stroking Jaiden’s back gently. “They decided we should do a family costume.” He’s got a mischievous glint in his eye, and Dan’s already nervous as to why.

“Okay…” Dan says slowly, dropping the socks he’s just matched onto the bed and straightening his back, cringing when it pops. “What’re we gonna be?”

Phil grins. “You’re gonna love this, babe. Mia, tell him what you’re gonna be.”

She smiles so wide Dan’s surprised her little face doesn’t split. “Bulbasaur!”

Immediately, Dan bursts into fond giggles. “What? Really?” He glances up at Phil, who wears a mirrored expression.

“They’ve been playing Pokémon with Levi apparently.” He shrugs, but Dan can almost feel the excitement coming off him in waves.

“’m gonna be Squirtle,” Jaiden mumbles from where he’s nestled in Phil’s arms.

Dan nearly coos. “Aww.”

Amelia hops up on the bed then, climbing into Dan’s lap. “Are you excited?” She asks with wide eyes.

He nods with a bright smile. “I sure am! What are Phil and I going to be?”

She grins then, but the expression is so similar to the one Phil had made that it nearly knocks the breath out of Dan’s chest. “Well… Dad said he wanted to be Ash.”

Dan rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Of course he did.”

Phil sticks his tongue out. “Wait till you hear what they’ve decided you’ll go as.” He sounds almost giddy.

“Well?” Dan asks, looking down at Amelia, who looks ready to burst with her little secret. “What am I going as?”

“Pikachu!” She shouts, bursting into giggles immediately.

Dan stares at her, blinking slowly, before slowly swinging his gaze to Phil’s. “I’m… your sidekick?”

At this, Phil gasps. “A…sorry, a sidekick? Daniel! How could you? Pikachu is Ash’s best friend! His companion through life! Like… like…”

Rolling his eyes, Dan stands from the bed, hoisting Amelia up on his hip. “Like his actual soulmate?” Dan quirks an eyebrow.

Phil huffs. “Shut up.”

Dan walks past him, stopping to drop a kiss to his temple. “Yeah, alright. I’ll be your Pikachu. But don’t expect me to forget about this, Lester.”

There’s the sound of Phil breathing a laugh as they carry the twins to their room.

“I think you’ll be a good Pikachu, Daddy,” Amelia says sweetly when he lays her down in bed.

“Mhm. I’m sure.” He scrunches his nose up at her and she giggles. She holds her arms out for a hug, which he gladly obliges to. “I love you, sweetheart. Have sweet dreams.”

“Love you too, Pikachu.” She giggles hysterically when he shoots her a mock glare.

“Goodnight, Mia.”

“Night, Daddy.”

Phil is waiting to switch places as he’s already tucked Jaiden in, and as Dan moves past him, he reaches out and squeezes Phil’s hip. He receives a smile and a relaxed roll of the eyes, and it warms Dan’s heart.

“Hi, bubby,” Dan says softly when he sits on the edge of Jaiden’s bed.

“Hi,” Jaiden replies with a sleepy smile. “Are you excited to be Pikachu?”

Dan smiles and nods. “Wanna know a secret?” he whispers conspiratorially. Jaiden nods in excitement, so Dan leans in. “Pikachu’s my favorite. I’m pretty sure I already have a Pikachu costume somewhere.” In truth, the costume he’s speaking of is actually a onesie, and actually Phil’s, but Jaiden doesn’t have to know that.

“Really?” Jaiden says gleefully.

“Mhm. So, I’m well excited about Halloween. How about you?”

Jaiden nods. “I love Halloween. Dad said we’d go trick-or-treating!”

Dan smiles fondly, brushing Jaiden’s hair back with a nod. “That’s right, bud. We’re going trick-or-treating on Saturday night.”

The six-year-old smiles, looking down at his hands. “I’ve never been trick-or-treating before,” he admits quietly.

A lump grows in Dan’s throat, cutting his breath a little short. “Well,” he starts, stopping to clear his throat. “We’re going to have a lovely time trick-or-treating. Promise.”

Jaiden smiles, his eyelids already fluttering close. “Good,” he says quietly.

Dan leans down, pressing a kiss to Jaiden’s forehead. “I love you, Jai-bird.”

The boy doesn’t answer, probably already drifting into sleep. Dan makes sure his plushie is on his bed before standing, going to join Phil where he’s stood at the door, watching Dan with an affectionate smile.

“Levi in bed already?” Dan asks quietly as he pulls the door closed behind him.

Phil nods. “He went to bed when we came downstairs.”

“He okay?”

“Mm. Yeah, I think so. We asked if he wanted to dress up as Charmander and he said he’d think about it. I don’t think he wants to go trick-or-treating with us, to be honest with you.”

Sighing, Dan shrugs. “That’s fine. We can’t make him go.”

Phil makes a noncommittal noise. “We’ll talk to him about it, see what he wants to do.”

Dan nods, leading the way into their room. He starts clearing the laundry off the bed, rolling his eyes as Phil spreads himself on his side, moving the piles of clothes to Dan’s side rather than putting them away. “You could help me put those away, you know.”

“I could, but you’re doing such a great job, I think I’ll just leave you to it.” Phil smiles cheekily.

Propping his hand on his hip, Dan quirks an eyebrow at him. “You know most of this is yours, right?”

Phil glances around at the clothes spread around him. He can’t even deny it, since all of it is far too brightly colored to be Dan’s. “Well, I dunno…” He trails off, plucking a familiar green piece from the neatly folded pile near Dan’s pillow. Phil unfolds it, much to Dan’s chagrin. “I think you wear this one more than me, don’t you reckon?”

Dan glares. “No,” he mumbles. A lie.

Phil smiles at him, a soft, fond thing. “C’mere.”

Against his will, but not really, Dan shuffles forward, allowing Phil to pull him in closer with a hand gripped on the front of his shirt. Phil pulls him until he’s got no choice but to sit on the bed, pressed flush against Phil’s thighs. Dan watches as Phil spreads the bottom of the hoodie open, bunching the fabric up in his hands.

“Arms up,” he says softly, blue eyes prompting Dan to obey.

Phil tugs the hoodie over Dan’s head, helping him push his arms through before tugging the fabric down on his torso. With the offensively bright fabric wrapping Dan up in that nostalgic embrace, he feels a little careless, a little happy, and a lot emotional. “Thanks,” he whispers, his eyes still locking with Phil’s.

A hand comes up to brush his curls back into something a little neater, and Dan can’t help but reach up and catch that hand when it falls away. Phil watches him as Dan carefully guides Phil’s hand up to his jaw, leaning into the feeling when Phil gently begins stroking his cheek with his thumb. The air is static around them, and Dan’s certain his heart is about to burst completely out of his chest with the way the tension in the air is squeezing his ribcage.

He doesn’t mean to do it. At least, he doesn’t plan on it, exactly.

One moment he’s sitting there, staring at his best friend, and the next thing he knows, he’s leaned in, brushing his lips tentatively against Phil’s. There’s a shaky exhale released against his mouth, but then there’s fleeting pressure. It’s gone and it’s back and Dan’s eyes flutter as Phil hesitates.

Dan’s veins are thrumming. He feels like his whole body is set on vibrate with all the tension there, bubbling under the surface as he waits for the other shoe to drop. Will he or won’t he, will he or won’t he, will he-

And Dan doesn’t actually think that he will, of course. They’re best friends, and Dan is starting to feel things he’d long ago buried, but he doesn’t seriously think that Phil will kiss him.

He’s wrong.

For all his delaying, Phil finally just commits, his other hand coming up to cup Dan’s neck as he fully frames Dan’s lips with his own. Dan is shattering into a million pieces and being put back together all at once, and his hands can’t help but reach out and touch. They fall to Phil’s arms, but it’s enough contact for Dan to feel warmth spread through his chest. His head swims for some sort of explanation or some sort of way out, and he’s shushing that part as he tries to take this moment just to feel something.

And what he feels are Phil’s lips, softer than his own (“because you bite yours constantly,” says a voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Phil’s), pressing and pulling all at once. Dan can’t do much more than make a feeble attempt at copying that pressure, but he feels more pliant than anything. He thinks maybe he’s still a little in shock, his mind both racing and taking a slow-motion film of this moment, of Phil gently, gently pressing their lips together once more before letting out a short breath against Dan’s mouth.

“Dan.” He sounds choked.

“What?” Dan whispers. If he tilted his head just a little, he could kiss Phil again. God, again… the word sounds so bizarre in his head now.

“I… I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”

Phil’s off the bed before Dan can even respond, headed for the bathroom and shutting the door. The lock slides into place in the deafening silence of the room, and all Dan can do is stare.

What the fuck just happened?

~~~

“Phil? C’mon, please come to bed.” Dan’s been sat outside the bathroom door for no less than an hour, quietly imploring that Phil come out and at least sleep in their bed. He’d like to also discuss what just happened, considering the fact that about five minutes after Phil locked himself in the bathroom Dan burst into tears, but he knows that for right now, that can probably wait.

For the first time since he sat down here, he hears a noise on the other side of the door. He scrambles to his feet when he hears the sound of the lock sliding out of place. When the door opens, he comes face-to-face with Phil, stood there with red-rimmed eyes and his contacts replaced with his glasses. He’s staring at the ground, avoiding Dan’s gaze entirely.

“Excuse me,” he whispers, inching past Dan like if they touch it might burn his skin.

Dan shifts out of the way, staring at Phil in complete surprise. This is not what he expected. At all. That being said, Dan has no clue how to react. “Er… Phil?” He decides on a whim to just go for it, straight for the elephant in the room.

Phil is climbing into bed on his side, rolling over to face the door, his back to Dan. “What?”

Slowly, so he doesn’t startle him, Dan gently settles himself on his own side of the bed. “Do… Could we maybe… Talk about what happened?”

Dan’s watching him so closely that when Phil takes in a shuddering breath, he nearly jumps. His chest tightens, and his breathing comes a little harder as the guilt starts to settle in. He’s messed up this time. Like, really.

“I… Soon? Just… not tonight.” Phil’s voice cracks.

Dan swallows hard. “Right. Okay.” He stares at Phil’s shoulder. “Do you want me to sleep somewhere else?”

“No!” Phil sounds positively wounded by the very idea. “I just… I need some time to process what just happened.”

Trying to guard the floodgates in his eyes, Dan nods. “Okay.” He lays down, a little stiffly, staring up at the ceiling. He’s well aware of the valley of space between them, but even breathing too heavily that his chest expands just a little closer to Phil makes Dan’s skin crawl with guilt. He stays as perfectly still as he can, trying to focus on anything other than the fact that the person next to him was his best friend an hour ago and is now his best friend who he’s kissed. It makes his head spin.

So instead, he thinks about the laundry he’d shoved on the floor to climb into bed. He thinks about the lamp that he needs to turn off to cast the room into the darkness it takes for both of them to really properly go to sleep. He tries not to think about the fact that he just kissed his best friend. He thinks about ordering the twins their Halloween costumes. He thinks about the ring on his finger, heavy where his hand rests against his chest. He doesn’t think about the feeling of Phil’s lips against his own.

He’s not thinking about it. He’s not.

His ring feels like it’s suffocating him. He leans to the side, flicks the lamp off. After a moment of thought, he gently tugs the silver band off his finger for the first time in months, dropping it onto the nightstand with a little clink.

Funnily enough, it does nothing to ease burning in his throat.

He almost thinks he hears, or rather feels, Phil’s breath hitch, but then the room goes quiet and still again and he’s no longer sure.

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