#but this is such a childishly black and white frame of thinking

[dilfsonic]

oh boy. seeing a very large Sonadow blog go out of their way to paint every single nsfw or suggestive artist in a nasty, nasty light in this fandom because they believe aging up is the root of all evil and not at all an extremely valid and natural thing that happens, particularly if you were a child when you got into this franchise and mentally were aging up characters in your head as you were getting older because there is nothing more natural than to want to see your favorite characters in new stages of their lives.

do they think the writers and artists behind Archie are p*dophilic freaks too for their “30 years later” arc that very clearly depicts that “everyone grew up and boned and had children with each other”?

absolutely laughable. I’m sure these people aren’t handling any story involving growing up or navigating adulthood well whatsoever, because god forbid characters ever age and experience age-appropriate change or stories as a result. sorry but I am extremely worried for your literacy if you take issue with this.

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Part of the Job

Another story requested by my patreon member! If you're interested and would like to support my work, please consider checking it out, link in bio <3

Disclaimer: Gojo X Fem!Geto. ‘Blackmail’ but not really. Hospital sex. A lot of boob loving.

~~~~~

“Getooo~” a shrill voice called out with an annoying teasing tone. Geto rolled her eyes, already knowing why Utahime was so excited. 

“Ugh. What is it?” she asked as her Senior reached her, playing along.

“Rude. Be respectful!” Utahime said, pouting before she continued, “But anyway, your boyfriends here. Again.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Geto responded, putting away some paperwork on her desk, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have patients to take care of.”

“Yeah, and one of them is your boyfriend. He specifically asked for you. Again.”

“He’s not my boyfriend and I’m not doing it. Have Nanami look after him or something.”

“If Nanami caters to him one more time I think Gojo will leave the hospital more injured than when he came in. Just go already before he throws a tantrum.” Without waiting for a response, Utahime turned around and left the room, leaving Geto alone.

Geto sighed, realising that she unfortunately had to do her job. She looked into the mirror and checked that her uniform was proper, her white dress and stockings pristine and clean. Her long black hair was pinned up in a high ponytail, a strand of it framing her face in the front and her makeup was simple yet elegant. She looked good, as usual.

 She walked out of the room and towards the location where her…patient was waiting. She didn’t even need to confirm where the man would be. There was only one room that would be sufficient for that rich bastard.

She knocked on the door once she arrived, sliding it open before she walked in. Despite the annoying situation, she did enjoy coming into the private suite of the hospital. A series of rooms reserved for the higher ups of society- celebrities, billionaires and such. It was a large room with an AC, a TV, a working internet connection, a big comfy bed, soundproof walls and, most importantly, a private nurse.

“Geto!” the nuisance called out excitedly as she walked into the room, “About time! I’ve been waiting for so long!”

Geto closed the door behind her and locked it, rolling her eyes, “I know you just arrived, stop being so dramatic.”

Gojo, her patient in question simply stuck his tongue out at her childishly before he went back to browsing the TV channels. She made her way over to him, trying her best to steel herself for whatever bullshit he was about to start spewing.

Gojo Satoru. He was a handsome young man with striking white hair and even more mesmerising blue eyes. The first time she saw him, she had to remember how to breathe, his eyes sparkling like sapphires. He was the son of the family who owned the hospital and he was well on his way to becoming the head someday. And for some reason, he seemed to have developed a habit of faking injuries and illnesses just to get into the hospital.

For ‘some reason’.

“So, what’s your problem this time?” Geto asked as she sat beside the bed, getting comfortable, notepad in hand as she looked over the man who was sitting against the headboard of the very comfy bed.

“My head hurts.” He responded, giving her a sad puppy dog look, “It’s been hurting all day. I think it’s something serious.”

“It sure is serious.” Geto said, poking his forehead with a manicured nail, “your brain is so empty- I bet the one braincell you have is hurting your skull when it knocks around in all that space!”

“Haha. Very funny.” Gojo said, pretending like he was going to bite her fingers and laughing when she suddenly pulled away, “Anyway, you know the best cure for it, right? You are a nurse, after all. My nurse.”

“Well, a headache will just be a tablet you can swallow but…that’s not what you’re demanding, are you?”

“Demanding? I’m not demanding anything.” Gojo said, lying through his teeth as he looked her up and down with that familiar expression, “I’m just asking you, as a medical professional, to give me the treatment that works the best on me.”

Geto sighed. Here she goes again.

Double checking that the door was locked, she took off her shoes before she crawled onto the bed. Gojo threw the remote away, the TV showcasing some random program but it didn’t matter as Geto sliding onto his lap blocked his view from the machine. She looked down at him, an unimpressed look in her eyes as he stared up at her, mischief behind his blue orbs before his gaze trailed down to her chest. With a sigh, she got to work, starting to unbutton her uniform.

“Oh yeah~ Give me those tits~” the white-haired man purred, practically drooling as Geto’s skin got revealed. She pushed the top half of her dress off of her shoulders and arms, the routine getting familiar as she exposed her bra clad breasts to the perverted patient.

“Fuck-“ Gojo gasped, shamelessly pushing forward and slotting his face into her cleavage, breathing in her scent and lightly shaking his head side to side, motorboating her, “I love it when you wear black.”

“You want to take it off of me?”

“Mmhmm.”

With his face still smothered between her ample breasts, His hands slid up her back, tracing up her spine, his long fingers massaging her muscles before he reached the clasp of her bra. With practiced ease, he unhooked the item, not moving his face away from her chest even as he helped her remove it.

He threw it to the side, finally parting from her so he could have a good long look at her bare chest. Geto understood early on that Gojo was obsessed with her tits, the man often looking at her breasts more than her eyes. She was quite gifted in that department- her breasts decently big and plump enough for his hand to engulf and squeeze tightly.

Giving the valley between her breasts a kiss, his hands came up and grabbed onto her breasts, Geto’s back arching as she allowed him to grope at her. The man bit his lower lips, his pupils turning into hearts as he started to squeeze her like a toy. Her soft flesh seeped between his fingers as he groped her, Gojo using his grip on her to move her breasts in random directions. Sometimes, he’d push her breasts up a bit before letting go, his cock throbbing under Geto’s butt as he watched the way her tits bounced back down only for him to do it again.

“Shake those tits for me, yeah, that’s it~” he ordered, mouth watering as Geto shook her shoulders enough for her breasts to start moving side to side, the way her plump flesh danced mesmerising. He stuffed his face between her tits again, Geto still shaking her body as he enjoyed the feeling of her tits slapping his face.

“Tighter- fuck- make it tighter-“

Geto swore he could probably cum in his pants if the moan he let out was anything to go by. With his hands now on her ass, greedily pawing at her, she pressed her breasts closer together, squeezing them around Gojo’s face. She could feel him moan against her; his cheeks red as he happily suffocated between her soft globes.

“More- squeeze more- fuck – yes!”

Gojo’s cock was already rock hard in his pants but he couldn’t help it. He absolutely loved Geto’s body, especially her tits. He’d spend all day suckling on her nipples if she let him, her soft breasts now becoming a happy place for him. Work is annoying? He’d imagine groping her titties. People are getting on his nerves? He’d picture falling asleep with Geto’s nipple in his mouth. Geto is ignoring him to do her ‘job’? That’s fine, just jerk off to the thought of big, fat milkers-

“Oh fuck!” Gojo moaned, pulling his head from between her breasts to take a deep breath, body shivering as Geto suddenly started to move her hips against his. Her hands now behind her, grasping onto his legs, she arched her back a bit as she ground against his clothed erection, her perky butt massaging his member just right.  His grip on her ass tightened as Gojo leaned down, mouth open and panting as his tongue ran over the plush of her right breast. Making his way down to her nipple, he giggled at Geto’s flinch once he flicked her sensitive bud with his tongue, her nipple instantly hardening. Not one to waste time, he sealed his lips around her and started to suck, groaning against her from the sensation of suckling on her sweet bud while also having her ass rub against his leaking member.

As he sucked her, licking her nipple up greedily, Geto thought back to how this all started. How she was so happy to have been accepted to one of the most prestigious hospitals out there. How she quickly got the respect and admiration from her peers for her work ethic and no-nonsense attitude while still being empathetic and kind to patients. She had met Gojo a month into her job and they hit it off, his status not influencing the way she treated him. Despite his spoilt attitude, they ended up being good friends even before she realised who he was.

The first time he got injured and Geto had to look after him, he groped her butt, his pain killer muddled brain claiming it made him feel better. The second time, after he realised Geto wasn’t mad at him, he admitted himself in for a headache and needed to see Geto’s bare breasts to get better. The third time, after his days were haunted by the sight of Geto’s pretty nipples, he claimed his dick was aching and swore that emptying his balls into her mouth would solve his problems.

And so, this routine continued. Perhaps it was because Gojo was technically her boss and Geto had to follow his orders (despite the fact that Geto would sooner castrate him than do something she doesn’t want to do). Perhaps it was because Geto was pent up, hot and horny that she was willing to let Gojo use her body for his perverted desires (much more likely). Or, perhaps, they were two emotionally constipated people who’d rather fuck each other than confess to any actual affection. 

 “I want you to sit on my face.” Gojo said hungrily, flicking her nipple with his tongue before giving it a kiss. Geto snorted, biting down a gasp as he bit down on her bud, “Is that another, super legit medical procedure?” she asked.

“Sure is.” The man responded, his other hand pawing at her ass, fisting and pulling up her skirt, “your pussy juice can solve any problem.”

“Ugh. Gross.” Geto said, this time unable to hold back her gasp as he suddenly spanked her, the pain red hot and addicting, “Fine- lie down.”

With an excited grin, Gojo did as he was told (a very rare sight), his head resting comfortably against his pillow as he waited for his treat. Huffing, Geto slid her hands underneath her skirt and started to pull off her undergarments. Gojo watched as she slowly started to drag her panties down her milky white thighs, her uniform covering up her cunt but he knew he’d see it in a second. With a bit of manoeuvring, Geto threw her panties to the floor, shivering as she felt the slight chill of the air conditioner brush against her- admittedly wet- cunt.

“Ready?” she asked, crawling up towards his head.

“Fuck yes!” Gojo said, already panting excitedly as he gripped her hips, helping her balance as she finally made her way to his head. “Fucking hell-“ he gasped as she straddled his face, not sitting down yet as she gave him a perfect view of her cunt. He was quite familiar with her pussy at this point, her cunt being absolute perfection. Cute and pink with puffy pussy lips, a tuft of hair and a sensitive clit- her pussy was what dreams were made of.  “Your pussy is so perfect- fuck- get down here!”

Gripping her hips tightly, Gojo pulled her down, Geto letting out a cute yelp from the sudden movement as she sat on his face, his mouth directly on her cunt. She moaned as Gojo took a deep, greedy lick of her pussy, kissing her cunt like he was making out with it. The moans he was letting out like he was the one getting fucked was vibrating her pussy, making her body shiver as he pleasured her. Geto had to admit- the man knew how to use his tongue.

“Fuck-“ she gasped out softly, refusing to be vocal to preserve her pride as Gojo lapped at her pussy, the man sucking on her clit like it was a sweet treat. He smacked her ass occasionally, making her rock her hips against his tongue even harder as he ate her out. He seemed to love getting her to break down, having her squealing for him by the end.

She was driven to her climax embarrassingly fast, Gojo’s talented mouth working her pussy perfectly. He moaned against her, mouth open and tongue lapping up her juices as she came in his mouth, Geto muffling her moans by slapping a hand over her mouth. She trembled on top of him, her thighs shaking and back arching as the pleasure hit her, her cunt gushing all over Gojo’s face.

He eventually tapped her thigh, signalling that he wanted her to get off. She pushed herself onto his chest, the man having a happy, satisfied look on his face as he took deep breaths. He looked at her, hunger still in his eyes.

“How do you want me to take you?” he asked, panting heavily, his lips wet from her slick. Geto wasn’t any better, her body shivering from the aftermath of her orgasm but her pussy wanted more. She needed him.

“…from behind.” She said, mirroring Gojo smile as he pushed her off of him, making her fall back against the bed. She quickly rolled over as the man greedily started unbuttoning his jeans, pushing his pants and underwear down in record speed just as she got on her knees. Geto looked behind her, mouth drooling as she stared at Gojo’s thick, delicious cock. The first time she sucked him off, her jaw was sore for three days straight. He was long, thick, with heavy balls and a delicious red tip, a tip that was leaking so much pre-cum she wished she could lap it up.

He grabbed her hip with one hand, grasping the base of his cock with the other before he started slapping his dick against her wet pussy, making her jump with every hit.

“Put it in yourself.” He demanded, clearly expecting Geto to protest but the woman was so horny that she quickly complied. He chuckled as she brought her arm out from between her legs, grabbing onto his member before she guided him to her hole, pressing his tip against her leaking entrance. She heard Gojo curse at her lewd action, his cock throbbing against her as he started pushing in. They both groaned simultaneously as his dick thrust inside her, splitting apart her wet, needy walls.

“Fu-uck-“ Geto moaned, her patients dick already bumping her cervix, his dick so deliciously long it took her breath away. Gojo growled as he gave her juicy butt a mean spank, moaning as he felt her tighten around him from the impact. “Gonna move- fuck me- I love this fucking pussy!”

With another smack, the man started to thrust, gently pulling out before slamming back inside her, both of them moaning. Geto gripped onto the bedsheet tightly as her body started to move back and forth, tits swinging as he gradually picked up the pace. She always enjoyed it when Gojo took her from behind, the position making his cock drive as deep as it could inside her. His grip on her hips was tight, the man pulling her back to meet his thrusts as he started passionately fucking her. Balls clapped against her clit each time, the slick sound of their filthy fucking echoing through the room, no doubt being audible outside the door were it not for the soundproof walls.

“Fuuuuck!” Gojo snarled, sweat on his body and heat on his face as he fucked this beautiful, sexy woman. He enjoyed their little routine, knowing full well that he wasn’t actually blackmailing her. At this point, she knew enough about him that she could threaten him and get whatever she wanted. Hell, she could just withhold sex for a day and Gojo would cave. He knew he had feelings for her but it just wasn’t the time for them. It will be, eventually, he was sure of it.

So for now, he would just fuck her cunt, enjoy her body and give her enough orgasms to make sure she knows she’d never find someone as good as him. He needed to make a stand considering just how amazing Geto was. There was no doubt a long list of men who’d want to be with her, but she chose him and he didn’t take it for granted. One day, he’d have her body and mind and heart.

They fucked like animals, Geto eventually loosing strength in her arms as she lowered her face onto the mattress, panting and mewling against the bedsheet with her ass up. Gojo loved the view, licking his lips as a hand came up to grope at her butt before his thumb inched towards her rim. He felt her jump, her gasp adorable as he started rubbing her tight asshole, his mouth starting to water as he pictures eating her ass. He needed to do that next.

“Fuck- cumming- gonna- oh yes-“ Geto moaned, drool seeping into the bedsheet as she was fucked silly, his thick cock hitting her g-spot perfectly. M-Me too!” Gojo gasped, gritting his teeth as he gently pressed his thumb into her other hole, groaning as he felt her tighten around him even more, “Fuck- where do you want it?”

“I-Inside me!” Geto begged, voice jumping from the force of his thrust, her ass ripping against him, “fill me up!”

“Fuck baby- let’s cum together!” Gojo said, ready to pump her full. She was on birth control but he felt his balls constrict over imaging a time where she wouldn’t be- where he could truly breed her and knock her up.

“Cumming! Fuck- cumming!”

“Cum for me babe- oh yea- gonna fucking- fill you!”

“Yes- yes- yes!!”

With a shrill squeal, Geto climaxed. Her back arched as her pussy gushed around his member, her juices dripping down her thighs as she came. Her body shivered, the woman biting down on the bedsheet to prevent any further noises from leaving her throat. It barely helped as she huffed and moaned against the fabric, eyes rolling to the back of her head at the amazing feeling of an orgasm literally being fucked out of her.

Gojo moaned shamelessly, pressing her hips so tight against his, not allowing her to move as he came inside her. He smiled a wide grin, tongue sticking out as he pumped her full, balls clenching as he dumped his nut into her eager, waiting womb. Fuck…he really wished she wasn’t on birth control. He’d never get tired of the sensation of her pussy milking his cock for every drop, her ribbed walls clamping around him, soaking his dick in a mixture of their juices. She was so perfect.

Eventually, after coming down from their highs, Gojo slowly pulled his cock out, dick twitching as he watched her gaping pussy leak out his cum, making her body a mess of sweat and semen. Geto sat up as well, a bit dazed from her orgasm and a bit miffed that she now had to continue her workday stuffed with cum. Post nut clarity really was a bitch.

But before she could say anything, Gojo sat back against the headboard, legs spread and cock still erect as he started taking off the remaining of his clothes, getting completely naked.

“You’re still my nurse, right?” he asked, noticing her confused expression, “My head still hurts. I think I need to cum down your throat for it to go away.”

Geto snorted, unable to hold back her laugh as she started crawling towards him, happy to give her body a break but still eager for more.

“And I suppose you’d like to tongue my asshole open later?” she asked as she grasped his member, Gojo hissing from the sensitivity.

“Exactly. I knew you were an excellent nurse.”

~~~~~

[thateldribitch]

Neon Visions

What is it like, going from protected and in constant danger... to being alone and in constant danger?

Chapter Two

Content Warnings: GORE, body horror, hospitals, major injuries and recovery, loneliness, danger, break-in's. Stalking, I think? Broad umbrella of yandere/horror nonsense.

Tap-thump, tap-thump—your sneaker’s worn heel bounces against the sterile tile. Everything echoes. Distant steps rebound off stock images of flat flowers on white walls. They’re probably meant to be cheery spots of color, but the place is just too bright. The images feel like lifeless, frozen funerals against the painted plaster. Funerals . That word echoes more than anything else. 

But Rollo is fine. He has to be fine. He’s going to scold you later for panicking. He’s going to want to finish the hunt, or start another. He’s Rollo …. But maybe some childishly hopeful part of you wants to think your big brother is, to a degree, invincible— crumpled in the back seat. Limbs folded up, limp and wrong, like rigid origami. Bleeding. Can’t even buckle him in. Hurry. Is he breathing, did he just make a sound, were you followed, don’t die, don’t leave me alone.

Numbly, you stare at the tile as the roars of panic resound off the sterile lights. Leaving you as frozen as the hollow frames. Can’t move. Can’t breathe. But approaching footsteps cut through the panic. Apprehension rises like cats’ hairs on the back of your neck. Instinctively, you draw your knife and stand against the door—

“Put that down before a civilian sees you,” an exasperated sigh punctuates the swish of a fur. Silver eyes cut through the black beam of a hunter’s hat. 

“I, um, Mister— Sir, I mean, Crewel, I—” Your trembling grip slips on the knife, nearly letting it clatter to the ground. But Crewel snatches it from the air, dangling the tip of the handle like it’s some used tissue. 

“He’s fine,” the older hunter huffs, lips chiseling into a disapproving frown. Immediately, your back straightens. His soft glare sharpens, if marginally. “But he won't be out of bed for a few weeks.”

The news hits you like a sledgehammer to the gut. “But— But our hunts—”

“—will be given to other hunters,” Crewel cuts in. Your mind whirls. Your eyes search his. There’s little room for negotiation in those sharp silvers. Fuck. Indigation, no, anger sparks in your gut. If you don’t take the jobs, you’ll lose the apartment. The first place you two shared, the first place that isn’t a Hunter’s Refuge. Somewhere for your belongings to be safe, that sense of security. You and Rollo worked for the place’s deposit for months. “No,” you whisper, the word rising like bitter bile.

“Excuse me?” He splays a hand on his hip. 

“I said— I mean—” It’s hard not to wither under his gaze, but you have to hold your ground. “ I can do our hunts!” He doesn’t look impressed. A rejection lays in wait behind his heavy sigh. “I’m just as capable as Rollo! I can do them!”

I won’t lose what we worked so hard for!

“....” Crewel stares at you, half annoyed at your defiance. A quarter pissed, but maybe a quarter impressed too. “Have you ever hunted on your own before?”

“Yes,” you lie, firmly. It comes all too easily, too calmly. He doesn’t look convinced, but… he holds your silver knife out to you, handle first. 

“Take the night off.”

“But—”

A single arch of his eyebrow cuts you off. “Don’t push it.”

“Yes, Sir,” you take the blade back, grasping it firmly to mask the trembling to your grasp. “Sorry, Sir–” 

“I’m giving you one chance,” he pokes you right in the center of your forehead. “ Don’t disappoint me. Show results, or I will have to give your jobs to someone else.”

“I understand,” you rub at your forehead.

“Good. Now, in the meanwhile, I’m taking your brother to my facility,” he snorts, turning to the side to wave you on with him. You fall into step, trotting after him as he escorts you back to Rollo’s room. “I can’t stand hospitals like these.”

His long strides clip to a halt. The two of you bask in the beeping of your brother’s heart monitor. A robotic tone telling you he’s alive. But hurt . Useless. Prove yourself . Your lips pinch as you hover in the door frame. But a firm palm pushes you away from the sight of bandages haloed in the neon green glow. “He will be fine.” 

“...Thank you, Divus,” you whisper, eyes screwed to the floor. 

“You’re welcome, Pup,” he reaches up and pats your head. His hand lingers, for just a moment—and you bask in the smallest reassurance. Then, in one smooth turn, he lifts his hand and turns to the door. “Go home.”

For a moment, you hover in the safety of his shadow. But you force yourself to turn away too. If you linger too long, he’ll catch on to the fear threatening to consume you. He’ll make you give away the jobs and you’ll have to restart. You can’t. You won’t. So you start to walk down the halls. Out from the bright and sterile, into the dark.

Alone, into the night.

***

Home doesn’t feel like home when it’s so quiet. Your back bristles with the anticipation of a guiding hand waving you in. There’s no one to flip a switch as you bring out pots and pans, going through the motions of making dinner. But it’s just you, watching a pot boil. No companionable clacks of butchered vegetables thump behind you. And it takes a moment for you to turn around and cut them yourself, after having set them out for Rollo to slice.

You still reach for two bowls, then pause. 

Should you… wrap something? No, he won’t be home for…was it a week? Two? Don’t waste food . Mechanical motions make you eat, but you don’t taste. Really, you blink and your bowl empties. There’s a feeling of fullness, but not satisfaction. You place your stained ceramic next to its untouched companion on the counter. 

Tired. So tired you can’t make it to bed. Weighing you down to collapse into the couch—

“Rolls?” The kitchen hazes like a heated mirage. You’re young… he’s younger too. Sixteen to your eleven? Sitting at a tiny table with dalmatian salt shakers and modern portraits on dark wood walls. Cozy, if hazy. A memory imprinted of warm fire crackles and long nights adjusting to sleeping during the day. A steady step in the hall. A flash of one fur, two… then your own, draped around your shoulders.

A blur of memory, wrapped in that secure warmth. 

Safe.

And yet Rollo bleeds.

A gnarled gash, like a lightning bolt, cuts against his forearm. But rather than ’man’s red, sunlight spills from his veins. Dripping to ignite the tile, tracing tongues of flame up the walls. And yet, instead of a roar of burning timber, it just… crackles per usual. And despite the horror of the visual, that eerily peaceful feeling remains. Your brother’s molten gold blood burns the bandages you try to wrap them with. 

The sparks dot your arms like sunspot freckles, spreading to settle on your brow and flutter like a flower crown. Smoke fills the kitchen. Rolls of gauze fall to ash. And yet you still try.

“What—? Ow!” Rollo yelps as you flare your hands out and cauterize the wound with golden flame. For a flash, his sunlit blood is red. A scar rough upon his arm. Your brother is older. So are you. The age you are now, still sat before him at a cool five years younger. You’re in your kitchen, the one just behind you….

…on the couch. You toss, turn, press your back into the familiar leather as you clutch the pillow close….

The smoke falls to a haze on the cracked, yellow linoleum. Burnt flesh’s stringent stench clings to the back of your nose. Your hands smoke. His arm smokes. “...Why do we hunt?” 

As you clumsily wrap his hand, stopping the sun from spilling from his veins, he stares down at you. “Do you remember our younger brother?”

“...No.”

“Our parents?”

“Just Divus.”

The answer renders him mute, mouth sealing shut like stone. The fires flicker, then die. The flower crown of flame wilts to ash to stain your skull gray. Just like his hair. Shadows lengthen. And then his eyes crumble open, revealing hellishly bright coals. His mouth chisels open, and the shards binding his lips fall in gravel-ish chunks down his sides. 

“We… lost them to the Night.”

The lights blow out like candle flame. There’s only Rollo’s molten eyes, burnished iron red-hot in the blackness. When he speaks… gravel continues to fall from his lips, becoming more and more blood-stained with every word. Until it runs down his chin, painting the shards as they bury him alive.

“We hunt so no one else has to lose their loved ones.” Clatter, clatter, clatter. Grit and dust, swallowing him whole. “We hunt so monsters don’t just get to take because they think they’re stronger.”

“Because we are!” You crow, hopping up from the table to wield a butter knife up like a musketeer. 

“...Yeah,” the last rock tumbles from Rollo’s lips, scattering down his smile to clatter at your feet. His arm bursts out from the rocky pyramid to cross his steak knife with yours. Children again. Making childish promises in a brief glow. And in the glint of the knife, you see… something glowing red… red eyes— Rollo bursts from the stone, bandaged fingers clutching your shoulders like a harpy’s death grip. 

“ WAKE UP! ”

Immediately, you bolt back to consciousness, hand immediately flying to your hunting pants. You fell asleep in your clothes, so you still have your knife. Heart thudding, hair rising. Window, your senses supply. A shadow lurks, backlit by the flickering street lamp. Small, pointed ears… and two hot coals burn through the thin windowpane. The Ancient Vampire crouches on the fire escape. The brief moment of eye contact bursts by. Flick! The window unlocks. The shadow slinks in like a panther, mere feet in front of you. Fight, flight, freeze—you roll off the back of the couch to take a defensive stance. A mouse against a mountain lion, but at least the animal wouldn’t laugh at its parable prey. 

“I-I’m sorry, you just—” The fit of giggles kicks him into the air, feet tapping against the ceiling as he just loses himself to laughter. A flash of color. A streak of pink hair. “—you just look so adorable —” Indignation sparks. Before the thought to object even enters your mind, pink flashes in front of your eyes. A death-cold forehead brushes against your own. Icicle fingers cradle your jaw. “Come on, now. You’re in over your head, Darling— fuck! ”

BAM!

You headbutt him as hard as you can. He jolts back, more startled than pained. Good enough. You swipe your knife across his cheek and take a half-step back. Purified silver sizzles. Another half-step back, you need to get a good blow on this guy but you need to get out of his range. He swings forward, arcing down from the plaster in a single, smooth motion. A manic grin flashes as he swipes back at you. A mirror of your pitiful slash, but ten times more deadly.

“You know, if you’re going to fight back, you could at least engage in some witty banter!”

Adrenaline pumps through your veins. You jolt your head back. His claws skim your cheek. Blood drips down your chin. You match, but his wound is already sealing over. He keeps coming, twisting through the air like a sickening torpedo of claws and cat-like intent. Playing with his prey. Purposeful strikes to match your own— talons meeting the blade, blow for blow for blow. Too quick. Too close. Endless. Breathless. He doesn’t give you an inch of space. No choice. You grit your teeth. Thrust your palm out right into his jaw . 

He doesn’t stop you. Doesn’t expect— 

Light.

A burning burst blazing across your skin. Pain erupts, cooking your skin into a shiny, blistering luster. But it’s nothing compared to the damage done to him. Down from his left eye in a star pattern across his jaw, a gradient of exposed, charred skull fades to the brilliant red of savagely barbequed muscle. He staggers back. Exposed fangs clack. His tongue hangs out of his mouth… before dragging against his ruined lips. 

A howl morphs into a deranged cackle. Jaw clacking in chips of smoke-stained teeth, hysterical and pained and pitched. You take one step back, two, three, four and out the door. He still doesn’t stop. This isn’t some last electric twitch of a mortal creature in the throes of death. It’s a celebration. The hyena’s cackle to summon the beginning of the hunt. Because that is the danger of an Ancient Vampire . Undead for so long that they become near impossible to kill, beyond the capacity of anything you’ve ever faced before. Watching him regenerate… is like rubbernecking through a horrific car crash. You almost can’t look away, hypnotized by the realization that you don’t stand a chance against this thing. It’s slower than before, but the sinew still knits across his cheek. His newly formed eye rolls out of the melted puddle of the previous, lolling in its socket and right towards your frozen form.

“At least give me your name! I’m Lilia, by the way~” His voice creaks out of his ashen lips, blooming into rosy rolls beneath a cupid’s bow.

“FUCK YOU!” You spit out. You throw yourself up and out of the door, eyes budding with char-choked tears as you hastily plaster a barrier against the door. Something, anything , to slow this monster down. Adrenaline fuels you. Makes it easier to ignore the pain in your palm, the searing heat. Can’t move your fingers, can’t feel them, fuck fuck fuck. Trembling, scared, fuck, so scared, terrified, scared, Rollo , Divus, someone, what did I do, what do I do, what did I do to make this THING come after me—?!

Bottom of the stairs. Your hair rises as you hear the door politely click open. Out the door. He’s shambling after you, only slowed down after such a catastrophic blast of pure sunlight. Bashing your way out the back door, into the alley, into your car. Only, only able to get away because you passed in your clothes, electric key still tucked in your pocket. BANG. You hit a trash can on the way out, scrambling to flick on your lights. Tires peel out. Your eyes dart to the rearview mirror.

Lilia waves at you, grinning a half-gore grin before you screech around a corner… and out of sight.

I mean, Crewel as a father figure is just too easy. Crewel as a distant father figure who you can't entirely rely on but want to? Delicious. Hehehehehhee.

[thephantomcasebook]

The Wilderness: A Psychotic Morally Bankrupt Exercise in Petty Feminist Immaturity

I've been preoccupied lately with the alarming trend of female power fantasies in media involving committing acts of crime and overall evil and not only getting away with it but revealing in a strangely moral superiority and smugness in the acts itself.

Shows and Movies such as "Anatomy of a Scandal", "Last Night in Soho", "Gone Girl", and recently "The Wilderness". Three of which started as novels by female writers. All have a very dubious premise of a so called "Wrong Woman" getting revenge on their spouse or boyfriend by dark and extremely immoral ways and are anointed as heroines by the writer for the supposed "Liberation" of the female protagonist by committing otherwise heinous acts that do not fit the crime they're supposedly avenging.

"The Wilderness" is one of the most dangerously psychotic and frankly one of the most immature examples of this trend of the female revenge fantasy. In which Olivia (Played by the amazing Jenna Coleman) murders her husband's mistress and then proceeds to cover up the crime under the guise of helping her unsuspecting husband protect himself, before framing her husband for the crime she committed. Then, in the end, the show frames this all as an empowering and heroic triumph, despite Olivia murdering two otherwise innocent people.

It is uncomfortably unhinged to go through the reasoning of the show that Olivia who killed her husband's mistress and beat the mistress's boyfriend's head in with a stone is less guilty than her husband who was cheating on her since they moved from London to New York. That somehow killing two people is less worse than her husband's serial infidelities with his American female workmates. Most of all is the strange encouragement and affirmation from other female characters like Olivia's mother and even the goddamn female Police Detective investigating her. They all continuously tell Olivia that she's not evil and what she did isn't bad, despite the fact that two innocent people are dead because she killed them.

I find it a disturbing growing trope in female led fiction that if one feels a certain way that any action taken from those emotions are valid and morally justified no matter what is done. That hurt feelings translating to an unhinged violent or transgressive action against someone is affirmed as empowering if said person has indeed emotionally wronged the female protagonist. Thus a cheating husband is far worse than the wife that murders because somehow he is the reason that his wife is killer. It is not only childishly immature logic of a toddler throwing a tantrum but outright ignores any personal responsibility of the female protagonist's own actions.

I'm for darker and more complex female characters, but said female characters should face consequences for their evil actions.

Also, I'd also like to address the racist trope of the "Magical Black Lesbian" that is also showing up a lot lately in white feminist fiction. The frankly immature Sapphic fantasies of women who think that all of their love life problems would be solved by simply being in a relationship with another woman - ignoring the fact that domestic abuse among Lesbian couples is at 64%. But the growing trend of portraying gay black women as some sort of wise and sainted reverent figure borders uncomfortably on the "Old Black Uncle" of mid-19th century antebellum literature in which usually young white female characters are seen as safe and comfortable with non-threatening elderly black men.

Now, in this strange cultist thinking of progressive white women, they've turned the elderly black grandfather into a lesbian black woman who serves two masters of being sainted for her sexuality and skin color while allowing the white liberal woman to show off her virtue by opening herself to the possibility of being in a safe and nurturing lesbian relationship with someone of the "Underclass" thus taking on their supposed racial and marginalized status and giving them a higher sense of virtue in their own eyes.

I find it all disgustingly dehumanizing, taking a skin color and sexual preference and washing down into a moralistic object of shallow progressive cultist belief rather than see them a person with flaws and prejudices like anyone else.

"The WIlderness", despite stellar acting performances by the main cast - especially from Jenna Coleman and Oliver Jackson-Cohan - remains a rather disgusting and degenerate pieces of morally bankrupt trash.

[onmykneesforhotdilfs]

jealous

guess who is back, that’s right, ME. anyway, this was not a request or anything but i needed to do this in order to get back on track. there are bunch of requests sitting in my box over there but i am working on them, i promise. if not in august, then you will get them all in september. k? now that this is out of the way, i hope you enjoy and as always, if you guys wanna talk about my fics or anything really, feel free to message me, i’m always available.

“Are you absolutely sure you want to go?

Bloom sighed and winced as Stella pulled a strand of her fiery hair too hard, sharp pain from the tug settling in her temple lobe making her regret her decision to have her blonde friend help her get ready for, yet another, Eraklyon ball.

“Well it seemed like a good idea to me at the beginning… but judging by the number of times I have been asked that question, I am starting to think it is not such a good idea after all.” Bloom responded sarcastically.

“Look Bloom,” Stella began as she took another strand of Bloom’s hair and curled it around the curling iron, “I get it. You guys broke up on friendly terms, but no one is going to blame you if you choose not to go.” Bloom frowned and she was about to open her mouth to protest, but Stella paid her no mind as she continued to curl her hair. “It’s his engagement party at the end of the day and the one that could turn rather messy considering who the bride-to-be is.”

“I know this might seem slightly unorthodox Stell, but I honestly have no hard feelings towards Sky.” Bloom shrugged one of her shoulders. “Besides, I’ve moved on.”

Stella snorted and tried to cover the sound (not befitting of a royal) with a cough but Bloom saw right through it as she leveled her best friend with a flat look. “Sorry Bloom. But you’ve got to admit that the situation is slightly absurd.”

Bloom sighed, her shoulders slouching forward in a clear sign of defeat. “Well, yes, I admit that the situation might seem weird-“

“Weird?” Stella laughed. “Sweetie, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but the situation ceased to be weird when you decided to spare the bastard.” Bloom saw Stella raise one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows in the mirror but an amused smile full of mirth was present on her lips. “This right now, this is insanity at it’s finest.”

Bloom rolled her eyes. “Okay now you’re exaggerating. Besides, the two of you are getting along quite well. With the way the two of you strive to get on my nerves, I’ll even say, you get along better than him and I do.”

“Okay, that’s just hurtful.” Stella pouted, her bottom lip sticking out and Bloom laughed at the puppy dog look her friend was giving her.

“I’m just kidding Stell.”

“I don’t know Bloom. I now might have to tell your boyfriend you find him annoying.” Bloom never quite considered Stella as a snitch, but the devils dancing in blonde’s eyes reminded her that she needed to thread carefully unless she wanted to be eaten alive by the devil himself and his accomplice.

“Now, don’t be twisting my words. I never said I find you or him annoying…” She stopped for a second to debate whether or not she should say the next sentence. “No matter how true that statement might be.” She mumbled at the end.

Stella burst out laughing and hugged Bloom from behind. “That’s ok Bloom, you annoy us too.” At the red head’s confused look, Stella continued. “Between your constant rushing into danger without thinking and doing the exact opposite of what you’re told, it’s a miracle neither of us has a set of gray hair from worrying too much.”

Bloom felt the heat rushing to her cheeks and she lowered her head to conceal the blush that was climbing up her neck. “I’m not that bad.”

“No, you’re not.” Bloom’s eyes met Stella’s in the mirror. “You’re even worse.”

“Thanks a lot.” Bloom mumbled but she had to bite her lip to stifle a laugh as Stella’s sharp elbow stabbed her in the back making her bend forward slightly.

“Speaking of the devil, how is Valtor?” Stella asked as she started tucking delicate curls into a bun with an elaborate pattern. “I mean, you did leave him with your parents, your real parents, after all. Aren’t you worried that there will be nothing left of him when you come back?”

Bloom grinned. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. He knows he should stay away from the throne room when I’m not there… He had to learn that the hard way though.”

“That hard way wouldn’t happen to be an angry king of Domino with a magic sword?” Stella asked through her giggles as the mental picture of an aristocratic wizard being chased across the hall by Bloom’s father popped up in her head.

“Who blabbed?” Bloom asked with genuine interest painted across her features.

Stella shrugged. “One of the maids that has a cousin working in Solaria’s palace happened to be at the right place and at the right time.” She pinned the final curl to the right place and stepped back to admire her work. “And I happened to be at the right place and at the right time to hear it being passed directly from one person to another.”

“Well, aren’t you lucky?” Bloom mumbled as she stood up from her chair and stretched her stiff muscles.

“Yeah, I guess I am. I never had the misfortune of being chased by your dad with a sword after all.”

Stella laughed as Bloom pushed her slightly, slight grimace present on her face. “Thank you for your help.” She leaned in to give Stella a hug. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss the show for anything.” Stella smiled and wiggled her eyebrows.

Bloom laughed. “You know, it is not nice to rejoice in someone else's misfortune. Dragon knows I would rather jump off the bridge than marry Diaspro.”

Stella waved her arm dismissively. “Each to it’s own. He should’ve sucked it up and come clean right away instead of preventing you from moving on and just prolonging the misery. A bit of suffering might be good for his soul.” She stopped for a second. “Though I’ll admit, marrying Diaspro might be too cruel of a punishment, even for him.”

“Well I am certainly not going to pull a Diaspro card tonight. I just hope he will live to see himself get married. After that, he is beyond my care.”

“Honey, he was beyond your care the moment you ended things, don’t pay too much attention to him.” Stella wiggled her eyebrows playfully. “Valtor might get jealous if you do.”

Bloom shook her head. “He’s not necessarily the jealous type Stell.” When Stella raised an eyebrow and her face morphed into an expression of disbelief, Bloom frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Are you completely blind or something?” When Bloom’s face continued to show nothing but plain confusion, Stella continued. “Are you seriously telling me that you do not see the glares he is sending to other people who look at you for two seconds too long?” Bloom shook her head negative but a stunned expression tensed her facial muscles and if Stella focused, she could probably see the cogs turning in Bloom’s brain.

“I’ve… honestly never noticed.”

Stella smirked. “I’m not sure why I’m even surprised. The two of you separately could conquer the world, but apparently when you’re together your brain cells eat each other or something because you are stupid for anything and everything besides for each other.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Bloom, honey, if there was a picture for ‘crazy in love’ in the dictionary, it would be a picture of the two of you.”

Bloom rolled her eyes. “I’ll have you know that we actually talk quite a lot.”

“I’m sure you do… when you’re not too busy getting lost in each other’s eyes from across the room.”

Bloom exhaled and pinched a bridge of her nose. “Okay I think that’s enough of that. Don’t injure that fashionable brain of yours by thinking too hard about me and Valtor. I’ll see you tonight.” She gave Stella another quick hug, ignoring the ‘Hey!’ she got and opened a portal to Domino. She threw a quick ‘I love you’ to Stella before stepping into the portal.

Shining rays of sun almost blinded her and she had to squint her eyes as she stepped into the throne room, making the people in it stop what they were doing to greet the princess. Bloom dismissed them all with a wave of her hand and a friendly smile as she climbed the steps to greet her parents.

“You look gorgeous honey.” Her mother said as she kept Bloom at an arm’s length to examine the hairstyle. Marion brought her hand to Bloom’s face and twirled a lock of fiery strand that framed her face.

“It’s all Stella mom. But thank you.” Bloom laughed cheerfully and tucked the lock behind her ear. “Have you seen Valtor by any chance?” She ignored a dangerous growl that sounded next to her, courtesy of her father, and continued. “We should get going soon.”

Just as Marion opened her mouth to answer, the door to the room opened and Valtor, wearing classic black pants and white shirt, strode in. Oritel jumped from his chair and Bloom saw, in her peripheral vision, how Marion gripped his forearm when Valtor came closer and started to climb the steps. He acknowledged no one as his eyes locked onto hers and Bloom got a flashback of Stella gushing about him having eyes only for her. Bloom felt the heat rushing to her head but paid it no mind as Valtor’s hands finally wrapped around her waist and he leaned down to kiss her forehead in greeting. She collapsed onto him, feeling almost boneless, her knees barely supporting her. The dragon fire connection burned pleasantly in her veins, carrying even more heat into her cheeks but Bloom was too busy basking in the euphoria that their connection provided to care. His thumb was drawing lazy patterns on her waist and Bloom had to resist the urge to giggle quite childishly. Instead she distanced herself from his embrace slightly, only now realizing they were not in private, and looked up at his face that had the beginning of a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Someone (Oritel) cleared their throat and Bloom broke eye contact with Valtor as unkind lights flashed in his eyes, his hand tightening around her waist, a clear sign of sheer annoyance on his part.

“So…” Bloom began rather awkwardly, clearing her throat as Valtor and Oritel continued to shoot each other unkind looks from across her head. “I trust the day has passed without any incidents involving swords and other sharp objects.”

“That only happened once.” Both of them spoke at the same time, a similar grimace painted at both Oritel’s and Valtor’s face.

“And once was enough, thank you very much.” Bloom said as she looked between the two men, trying to suppress her laughter.

“He started it.” Both men mumbled at once and turned an evil eye to each other.

“Very mature.” Sarcasm was dripping from every word Bloom spoke, her teeth nibbling at the bottom lip as she felt that exploding argument was about to commence and she really had no time for such shenanigans.

“If I remember correctly, your majesty,” Valtor began, sugar coating his voice but his face frozen in a sour expression, “you were the one that chased me with a sword, not the other way around.”

Bloom mumbled an ‘Oh no.’ and pinched Valtor’s side warningly. She squeezed her eyes together as dull pain began thumping against the walls of her skull. Her eyes met the worried but slightly amused eyes of her mother, and the queen shook her head clearly referring to the childish argument between the two grown men.

“Next time I’m simply going to break one of the hardwood chairs against your back then.” Oritel continued with a sheer, his frame slowly molding into one ready for an attack. The men leaned towards each other dangerously, and Bloom was afraid that sooner or later lightning will shoot from their eyes.

“There won’t be a next time. Your luck is that I chose not to defend myself, because otherwise, the outcome of that meeting would’ve been very different.”

“We can test that theory right now!”

“Bring it!”

The two were about to rush at each other, Oritel’s hand reaching for his sword and Valtor’s hand already lit with a spell, but an explosive spell rushed between their faces and forced the two to close their eyes and turn in the opposite direction. When the searing white finally retreated from their retinas and they were able to see clearly again, they turned to the women standing on the side, Marion’s hand raised as remains of the spell still sparked at her fingertips.

“Gentlemen. Please, behave.” The queen’s tone bore no traces of jest and Valtor and Oritel straightened their clothes in an effort to compose themselves, both coming to a conclusion that the continuation of a quarrel could result in serious bodily injury provided by none other than Marion.

Oritel cleared his throat and looked across Valtor’s shoulder towards the open hall. The servants were frozen in surprise, some were even huddled together as numerous whispers passed through the room. He looked towards his wife who was shaking her head in disbelief as if to say ‘Look at what you’ve done now.’ He once again cleared his throat and turned towards the people in the room. “Go back to your duties, there is nothing to see here.” The servants scattered across the room, fearing the wrath of their king, but amused chuckles still broke through some mouth.

“If you’re quite done,” the queen began, “maybe it would be for the best to go separate ways for today.”

“But Marion he-“ what was undoubtedly about to be another epic rant about whose fault it is was put on hold by a simple hand gesture. Marion crossed her lips in an universal ‘Zip it.’ motion and king’s mouth snapped shut. Seeing such scene, Valtor opened his mouth to say something but a sharp elbow to his ribs made him rethink his decision. He cleared his throat and grabbed the owner of the said elbow, a girl who was red in the face and almost had steam coming from her ears, and pulled her towards himself. Bloom struggled against his hold for a second but relaxed fairly quickly when Valtor sneaked his arm across her waist.

“I agree with mom.” She looked at Valtor and the hard look she gave him indicated that there was no room for refusal. “We should go get ready.”

As soon as the door to their room closed, Bloom snatched the shirt she was wearing over her head (weary of her hairstyle) and flopped face first onto the mattress. The dull ache in her head was turning into a full fledged migraine and she had to resist the urge to rip out all the bobby pins Stella placed into her hair. A sigh sounded somewhere next to her and a bed dipped slightly to the side due to the added weight. Bloom reached across the surface of the cool bed sheets blindly until her fingers wrapped around a gloved hand. She tugged on the hand slightly, a chuckle sounding in the room, as Valtor leaned above her to place another kiss at her forehead.

“Are you sure you want to go?”

“If another person asks me that today, I am going to scream.” Was her muffled response as she rubbed her face into the pillow she found laying around on the bed. “I’ve sat in the chair for hours, Stella practically tortured me with how much she pulled and tugged on my hair. There is no way, and I cannot stress this enough, no way in hell that I will miss Sky’s engagement ball just because I’d rather stay in bed.”

“If you say so.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles. “But in that case, we should probably start getting ready.”

Bloom groaned and pressed her face harder into a pillow. “Five more minutes.”

Valtor huffed a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh but moved towards the middle of the bed, one of his arms planting in between the bed and Bloom’s head replacing her pillow, while the other arm rested at the curve of her hip, his fingers drawing patterns at the soft skin. Bloom shuffled quietly on the bed as well, her head settling at the space where his neck met his collarbone, while one of her legs settled across his stomach. The hand that was mapping out the skin of her hip trailed teasingly upwards and Bloom twitched when his fingers ghosted over her ribs.

“That tickles.” She whispered against the skin of his neck, her lips brushing over the sensitive nerves with every letter.

“All the more reason for me to keep doing it.” Bloom pouted and lifted herself up on her forearms, her weight supported by her arms placed at his chest. Valtor huffed jokingly when she shifted her weight and he was rewarded for it with a slight punch to his shoulder. She ignored the fake ‘Ouch.’ from his side and moved to straddle his legs. He moved to meet her halfway when she leaned down for a kiss, the movements slow and gentle but no less passionate.

“Maybe we should just stay in.” He murmured when she broke the kiss only to descend down with short pecks to his neck. His hands took hold of her hips, fingers squeezing the tender flesh harder than necessary in a fit of passion.

“Mmmmm no. No. No, we don’t have time for that.” She groaned when his hands reached for the clasp of her bra.

“We can make it quick.” He huffed, annoyed and frustrated, when Bloom reached around to grab his hands and stop his movements. He fell back onto the bed as she moved up towards his face, his hands still held captive by her small fingers.

“No, we can’t.” She giggled and kissed his cheek quickly before swinging her legs off his lap and walking to her closet to pick up her dress.

“You always have to spoil my fun, don’t you?” He groaned and sat sup in bed, his fingers threading through his hair.

“Don’t sulk, we’ll have time to play later.” She didn’t even look at him as she continued rummaging through her stuff, but a teasing note and a promise was very much present in her voice. She let out a victorious ‘Aha!’ when she found the dress. “Besides, as my partner, I want you there.” The dress was tossed carelessly across the chair as she moved to stand in front of him at the foot of the bed. “Are you telling me you’d let me go all alone?” Her voice took on a slightly higher pitch and her lower lip wobbled slightly with every word. “You’d let someone else dance with me, put his hands on me?” She was playing a dangerous game and that was evident by the low growl that escaped from deep within his throat and by the darkening of his eyes.

She squeaked, slightly startled by the sudden movement, as his hands took a firm hold of her thighs and pulled her to him, his mouth attaching to her left hip, his sharp teeth leaving a bruised bite in the area as she wiggled in his hold, the pain from the bite sharp but not unpleasant. He soothed the tender spot by placing gentle, barely there kisses, no more than a brush of lips against the flesh. She hummed and ran her fingers through his hair, making him look up at her mischievous eyes. “You’re jealous.” It was not a question, but a statement and he groaned as he buried his face in her stomach, his arms circling her hips, hands resting on her behind. Bloom chuckled and tapped his shoulder twice before she pushed slightly on them, a clear sign he should let go, and grabbed her dress before she retreated to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

She emerged ten minutes later, silky turquoise dress sitting on her frame perfectly, loose curls placed behind her ear. Valtor, in the process of buttoning up his vest, stopped what he was doing and smiled at her. She mimicked his movements and stood right in front of him as her hands smoothed out wrinkles on his sleeves before straightening the collar of his shirt. No words were spoken as his large palms took hold of her delicate ones and brought them to his lips. The intimate moment was broken with the loud blaring of a cellphone and Bloom moved to answer it, Valtor’s hands letting go of her.

“Hello Stella.”

“Hey, where are you guys? We just landed. Are you going to be here soon?” Before Bloom even had the chance to answer either of the two questions, Stella continued. “Please say you will, because Bloom, I cannot promise I will not do anything if I see Diaspro.”

Bloom laughed, her hands rummaging through her makeup bag in search for lipstick. “We’ll be there shortly Stell, don’t worry.”

“You’re teleporting, right?”

“Mhm.” Bloom hummed absentmindedly as she continued looking for the lipstick.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon then. I love you.”

“I love you too Stell. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Stella laughed. “No promises. Ciao.”

Bloom threw her phone to the bed as she finally dug out a lipstick from a black hole that is her makeup bag. She leaned over the desk to apply it and she was about to turn around to ask Valtor if he could carry it in his pocket but gasped in surprise when two hands came up from behind and something cold was placed on her neck. Bloom bit her lip when she noticed that the cold object was a beautiful sapphire necklace, the color of the precious stone matching her eyes almost perfectly. Valtor’s hands moved from her neck, following the line of her spine, before settling on her hips. His lips ghosted over her hairline, down the line of her jaw before they settled in the junction of her neck and he placed a proper kiss there.

“You look stunning.” He whispered in her ear, his lips barely touching the shell of her ear, but the hot breath washing over her face made the goosebumps erupt across her skin.

“Thank you.” She spoke, her voice shaky, her fingers twirling the necklace resting at her sternum.

Colder breeze passed over her the very next second as he moved away from her to look at the mirror, spell words already on his lips and his appearance morphed back into perfection, not a hair out of place and no wrinkle on his clothes. He cleared his throat and turned to Bloom, who was still quite red in the face, and offered her his hand.

“Shall we?”

Bloom took his hand as his other one was already busy creating a portal, she moved closer to him, one of her hands searching for a pocket in his blazer. She smiled when she found it and looked up at him with a twinkle in her eye. “We shall, good sir.”

Valtor smirked as his free hand landed on Bloom’s left hip, his thumb tracing the bruise he left there, before the two stepped into a portal and disappeared with a flash.

[sadoeuphemist]

They had fitted together a wheeled cart for the old knight, large enough to carry him comfortably, but not so large that he would be rattled about when the wheels jostled over the stones. They had harnessed the cart to the knight’s horse, and though normally no knightly steed would deign to drag a load behind it like a mere beast of burden, Sir Percival’s horse was as grayed as he was, and so trotted along placidly as Sir Percival sat propped up in the back, his armor warmed by the sun.

“My final, and most glorious quest,” he proclaimed, staring ahead with clouded eyes. He could make out light and darkness, the shape of a tree, but not the leaves or branches on it. He was looking at the horizon, and at the blue expanse of sky. “You are most fortunate, my lad, to be witness to this, the final day of a long and illustrious life.”

"Yes, Sir,” his squire said. The squire was a lad of about fourteen, walking ahead and leading the horse by the bridle. He had been picked by lot to accompany Sir Percival to his death, and, much like the horse, had accepted his burden rather meekly. He had polished Sir Percival’s armor the night before, fitted it piece by piece onto the frail old body. Now he walked steadily, his shoulders slumped as if there was a harness weighting them down. He had been silent for much of the journey, but at Sir Percival’s words took the opportunity to speak: “If you don’t mind me asking, Sir, I’ve heard of your many deeds, the, uh, the d-dragons slain, the - the knights defeated, and so on, and this quest, Sir, I don’t know very much about it, and, um...”

“Yes, yes, the quest!” said Sir Percival, trying to sit upright in the cart and only succeeding in rocking it slightly. His horse snorted and shifted its weight. “It’s the only quest, really. Every warrior slain, every army defeated, every drop of blood spilled - all hollow striving in service of the single quest above all else.” He waved his hand, his armor creaking, and beckoned the boy closer. The squire dropped back to listen. “The Grail, m’lad! The Holy Grail! The chalice that caught the blood of our savior Jesus Christ! The only thing worth questing for in all the world!”

Sir Percival settled back in the cart, his breathing heavy, his white sideburns quivering. The squire hesitated, hovering over him, and let out a sigh of relief as Sir Percival seemed to relax again. The squire trotted forward, once again taking the horse’s bridle in his hand.

“I had my chance at it, you know,” Sir Percival said, after some time. “Back when I was young.”

“Sir?” the squire said.

“It was ... My goodness, how long ago was it by now?” Sir Percival shook his head. “At my age, one tends to lose track of time. Not just the now, you see, but all the things before it, all jumbled up together.” Even behind the cataracts his eyes were distant now, dreamy. “I had my chance at it, in any case, made it all the way into the Keeper’s castle. The Keeper of the Grail, you know. All full of wondrous things. This beautiful young maiden, fair and rosy-cheeked. All these beautiful young people. A lance, a lance that never stopped bleeding. A wound that never heals. A lance in your hand that cries for blood, the wound always as fresh as the day your lance first plunged into flesh, the red red reminder of every quest and every kill -”

His lips tremored wordlessly for a moment, and then Sir Percival shook his head. “I had to ask the Question, you see. And I had been taught back then to not ask questions. And so I missed my chance.”

“Sir?” the squire said hesitantly. “The - the question?”

“The Question!” said Sir Percival, his spirits suddenly restored. “Yes, devilishly clever, that! Other, lesser quests would have you answer a riddle to succeed. But! If you’re given the riddle, the answer only follows from that, doesn’t it? It’s a simple matter of eliminating all the answers that don’t fit, and then you’re left with the only one that does. Childishly simple!

“But! If you’re given nothing, and expected to ask the Question first, what then? Oh-ho!” said Sir Percival, smiling broadly and revealing the few remaining teeth among his gums. “Now that’s a challenge few knights can ever conquer!”

“And ... what is the Question, Sir?”

“Well, it’s ... Obviously it’s, ah...” Sir Percival furrowed up his face, sinking back so that his head lay against the cart, squinting at the sun. “Give me a moment, m’lad, I’m not as young as I used to be. Just need a moment to think, that’s all.” Sir Percival yawned loudly, his eyelids fluttering. “Just go on, m’lad,” he mumbled, sinking into sleep. “Keep moving. Just a moment’s rest. I’m sure I’ll think of it. In time...”

...

“Sir?” came the squire’s voice, high and anxious. “Sir! I do believe we’re here!”

Sir Percival snapped awake, the blackness receding back so quickly that for a moment he was lost, and then could not remember what he had been dreaming. They had crossed the border of the kingdom quite a while back, and now a foreboding castle towered over them, its walls of black and battered stone. The ground around it had been torn up in times past by charging hooves and cannon fire, pockmarked with splintered lances and arrowheads and shards of rusting metal, and a ragged banner flew from atop the castle’s highest tower. But Sir Percival saw none of that.

In his ears rang only the sound of rushing water - a river, the sound of it babbling gaily against the stones, the coolness in the air, and Sir Percival squinted furiously, seeing the sparkling curve of the river, and what might have been the shape of a man crouched against it.

“Ahoy!” he yelled out gleefully. “Ahoy over there!”

It was indeed a man, weary-looking, gray-haired, though not nearly as decrepit as Sir Percival, sitting by the riverside with a fishing rod in hand, its thin line swaying with the current. “Ahoy yourself!” he yelled back, irritated. “We’re not at sea, you old coot!” Sir Percival continued looking on with a delighted grin.

The fisherman sighed. He was wearing royal robes, though worn and patched, and with a gesture that suggested he was used to being obeyed he motioned to the squire. “Well, get the old dunderhead over here, then! We might as well get this over with!”

The squire glanced at Sir Percival for confirmation, and then led the old horse forward gingerly, trying to navigate it so that Sir Percival would be next to the old fisherman without the horse splashing into the river, and then finally gave up and unharnessed the cart. The fisherman said nothing through all of this, staring moodily into the river, where not a single fish was troubling his line. Sir Percival was simply grinning, nodding on, gesturing impatiently, as the squire tried to brace him up from underneath his armpit, easing him out of the cart. “Um,” the squire said, glancing at the fisherman. “Um, if I could get a little help...?”

“Sat down here this morning,” the fisherman grumbled, rubbing at his thigh, and the squire could see that it was withered beneath the robes. “Nothing’s getting me up until it’s time to go back in. You’re on your own.”

It took a good deal of clanking and a great deal of effort on both their parts, but finally the squire settled Sir Percival beside the fisherman on the bank.

“Ah, there we go,” Sir Percival sighed, clapping his gauntleted hands down on his tassets. He was breathing heavily. “Been a while, hasn’t it, you old bastard?” he said jovially, elbowing the fisherman. “I tell you, Pelleham, bet you thought you were done with me back then, all those - those wonders in your castle dazzling me with their sorcerous charms -”

“That was my father,” the fisherman said impatiently. “And he’s up there in the castle.” He glanced at the highest tower, its face of scarred stone. “Doesn’t even get out of bed these days. Just lies there, day in, day out, wasting away. I’m Pelles, you remember? Pelles. Was barely even a man, first time you came.”

“Oh.” Sir Percival’s face folded up in wrinkles, his eyes small, his mouth open in a small black semicircle of bewilderment as he leaned in uncomfortably close, trying to make out Pelles’ profile. “Are you - are you sure you’re not - ? You sound just like him, as if - as if it hadn’t been a day - No, no, of course you’re not...” Sir Percival shook his head, slumping back on the riverbank, looking out dazedly at the currents rushing on. “It’s been years, of course. Decades. He was old when I first came here.” He looked hopefully at Pelles. “I don’t suppose I could see him...?”

“Just told you,” the fisherman snapped. “He’s gravely ill. Definitely not taking any visitors.”

“Ah. Of course.” Sir Percival looked down at his lap, folding his hands together.

“And you,” said Pelles. “What are you doing still gallivanting around at your age?” He ran a scornful eye across Sir Percival, the polished armor hanging on his withered frame. “Let me guess, yet another quest. A final quest. For you to perish in pursuit of some noble goal.”

“Yes, yes, exactly,” said Sir Percival, but all the energy had gone out of him. He was slouching in his rigid armor, the edge of his gorget cutting into his chin, though he seemed to barely notice. “We were ...” He smiled toothlessly, his voice gentle. “It sounded so glorious, really, when I proposed it to the King. The one quest I’d never fulfilled. It’s the only thing, isn’t it? The Grail? The only thing that matters in the world...”

“You knights and your damned quests,” the fisherman muttered. He bobbed the pole in his hand, letting the line waver. “What’s it accomplish in the end, hm?” He painfully extended his legs from beneath his robes, rubbed at his bare feet and let them soak in the water. “I spend my days fishing now.” He tugged at his line disgruntledly. “It’s about as productive.”

“No, no,” said Sir Percival dreamily. “You weren’t there for the old days, or perhaps you were still too young, then. Riding across the countryside, around every corner another quest awaiting us. An evil knight, a young damsel in distress...”

The man snorted. “You save a damsel, and then she’s safe to be kidnapped away again. You kill a man, and then you got to kill all his compatriots. When’s it end, eh, Percival? When’s it fucking end?” 

“Well. of course it’s the...” Sir Percival shook his head. “Of course that’s the point of striving, it’s the nobility of the struggle...”

“You conquer a castle, and always there’s a new one just beyond your borders,” the fisherman insisted, jabbing a bony finger. “You do what one man can, and your king sits up in his castle playing his games, and the world bangs on all around you. And in the end it’s just the Grail, the Grail, the Grail, the one thing you’ve never been able to attain.”

“I...” Sir Percival ran a gauntleted hand across his face, shuddering involuntarily from the touch of metal. “I’ve done everything I could, certainly, but ... It’s the youth, of course!” he said, turning stiffly to his squire, his face suddenly beatific. “We do what we can. We make the world as good as we can. And then it’s our - it’s the children, of course, who grow up and keep the quest alive...”

Pelles barely glanced up at the boy, snorting. “I’m my father’s son. As are you. And the old wars, and the new ones, they’re all the same butchery. We’ve both been around far longer than we should. Seen the change of ages. And it’s gotten worse, if anything. All the old atrocities, without even the idealism to temper ‘em.

“Boy!” he said, and snapped his fingers at the squire. “Look around you. Behold my kingdom, in all its tattered glory. What do you think of it?”

The squire stood awkwardly, knees locked, flushed with the sudden attention. “Oh! Uh, I don’t -” He cast his eyes around the scarred landscape littered with the remnants of battle, the shrapnel gouged into the soil. Riddles are simple, Sir Percival had said, eliminate all answers that don’t fit, but in his anxious state no single answer was winnowed from the chaff. “I - I don’t really see anything remarkable about it, Sir...?”

“Y’see!” said Pelles, a nasty grin on his face. “It’s the world we’ve made for ‘em. He’s too young to know any different.”

“No, no, no, no,” Sir Percival said, struggling to shift himself in his armor. “Listen to me, m’lad. If I’ve taught you anything let me teach you this. Despite all the world, despite every brutality in it, in the end we can still find salvation! The Grail -!”

“The Grail!” Pelles shrieked. “Men warring for the Grail, slaughtering one another for the Grail, throwing their lives away in an endless fruitless struggle just for the hopes of finally getting heir hands on the damned Grail -!”

“No!” Sir Percival boomed, and pushed himself upward, the metal joints of his armor locking into place, and for a moment he was standing gloriously on his own two feet again, a shining monument to knighthood as they both stared at him in wonder. “It’s the only quest worth doing,” he proclaimed, his words coming out in a rush, “I swear to you this. We must believe in a redemption through blood. In the promise of salvation -” and then his knees were giving way, the ground rushing up like a great black mountain, and he toppled forward in a violent clash of steel.

“Sir Percival!” the squire screamed, and rushed to him, struggling to turn him over on his back. “Help! Help me!’ he yelled to Pelles.

“I told you!” Pelles yelled back. “I’ve sat down and there’s no getting me up again without a retinue of attendants!” He was dragging himself up the bank regardless, his fishing pole abandoned, as the squire managed to roll Sir Percival over, hovering anxiously his ashen face.

“Heavy,” Sir Percival said, struggling to lift an arm. It might as well have been an anvil. “It’s never - it’s never weighed a thing before, the armor, never noticed I was wearing it -”

“You fool,” hissed Pelles, crawling laboriously to lean over him. “You stupid, stubborn old fool.”

“Oh,” said Sir Percival, a slow smile drifting across his face. “Pelleham. My dear Pelleham. There you are.” His head drifted languidly in Pelles’ direction. “There’s something I was going to ask you, but I can’t at the moment remember what it is.”

“It’ll be all right, Sir,” his squire said urgently, clutching his gauntleted hand. “You just - There’s the castle, and you can -”

“Lad,” said Sir Percival, turning his head back to face the sky. “Lad. Lad. What’s your - ? Your name, it’s something like that, Lad, it’s -”

“Galahad, Sir,” he said, stifling back a sob.

“Of course. Yes. Galahad.” He was seeing brightness. He was seeing light. “My good and faithful squire. Your first quest. And how well you have performed. It’s there, the Grail, right within your reach...”

Sir Percival’s eyes were wide and sightless, and his mouth hung open soundlessly. Galahad fumbled with the armor, unbuckling the straps that he had practiced, struggling to reach the heart beneath the metal chestplate. He shoved the steel aside, pressing an ear to Sir Percival’s hairy and sunken chest. After a few moments he sunk back, his face blank. “He’s dead.”

Pelles was sprawled out on the ground, grimacing in pain, and pushed himself up to watch his fishing rod floating away in the river. Sir Percival’s old nag trotted over, looking down at the body of its master, and gazed off distracted again at some shrubbery in the distance.

“Doddering old idiot,” Pelles muttered. The black castle cast a shadow into the sky, a monolith looking down on them. “At least you’ve got the cart if you want to drag him all the way back. We could bury him here, if you like,” he added, after a moment’s contemplation. “He’s got enough of a history with this place. I don’t think he’d be unhappy with that.”

He looked up, waiting for the squire’s response, and saw that Galahad was busy unbuckling Sir Percival’s belt, hoisting up the scabbard that hung on it. Around the boy’s waist the sword dragged against the ground, so he looped it across his chest instead, the belt going over one shoulder.

“What’re you going to do with that?” Pelles said.

Galahad awkwardly drew the sword from its scabbard, balancing the naked blade with both hands as if he had never held a sword before, pointing its tip towards Pelles, and then let it lower to the ground. “I want an answer,” Galahad said.

Pelles sighed, massaging his aching thigh, his leg stretched out upon the damp soil. “Go on, then.”

“The Grail,” said Galahad, his voice firm. “What’s the damn thing even good for?”

“Ah!” said King Pelles, and despite himself a laughter surged up from his chest, bubbling out inexplicably. Far downstream, his pole was a tiny splintered twig among the rocks, and the fish leapt sparkling through the river, fearless and free. “There you go! Now that’s the Question, isn’t it!”

[radiorenjun]

 I Don't Need It

• Pairing: Na Jaemin x Reader

• Genre: Angst, Comedy, Fluff

• Na Jaemin despised the idea of soulmates, he wanted to fight against fate for choosing his soulmate for him. Even if it means his stubborn childhood best friend wouldn't stop trying to make him accept about the similar tattoos on their wrists.

• Warnings: mentions of heartbreak, slight cussing or swearing, body pains, unrequited love, Jaemin finally getting karma for what he’s done, a bit of crying, brief mentions of death and flashbacks.

• Word count : 7.4k

• Masterlist here!

• Chapters: viii, ix

They say karma hits back at the best of times. In this case, it was no different with Na Jaemin. 

As time went on Jaemin finds himself longing and missing your presence by every passing moment. It’s been a full month since you started avoiding him like the plague, never daring to meet his eyes or even turning your head to acknowledge his presence in the classroom. It was as if you hadn’t spent most of your life hanging out with each other. As if you two were complete strangers.

At first, Jaemin tried ignoring the empty feeling inside of him whenever you pass by without giving him a slight glance. Trying to focus on whatever he was doing and not turn his head whenever he heard somebody calling out your name or whenever he hears your voice nearby. But it appears to be getting harder and harder as time goes by.

He finds himself thinking back to all the things you both used to do together wherever he goes. 

More or less, he doesn’t notice how his smile would quickly turn into a frown when he sees you hang around and act too friendly with Renjun. But then again, who was he to tell you what to do? He should be thrilled that you’ve finally decided to let go of him and get off his back. Yet again, he doesn’t seem too happy.

It seemed as if the world has turned upside down. Jaemin hadn’t noticed how many habits he developed in your absence from his life. He usually finds himself staring longingly at the shit polaroid the two of your took back when you were fourteen on your senior middle school field trip. A small smile stretching across his face when his mind wandered back to the exact moment when and where you took it. 

“Jaemin!” you hissed loudly as you took your bag to pull out your polaroid camera that your grandma had bought you earlier on your birthday. You were both currently on break after a long hike and hours of camp activities. Jaemin turned his head, seeing you pull out your camera and blowing some dust off of it. Jaemin smiled as he shoved his hand in his own bag which had a hidden package of fluffy white marshmallows.

You were saving them for the bonfire later that night but what’s the harm in eating a few right? Jaemin shoved a marshmallow in his mouth as he got up to sit next to you on the dirty floor, the satisfying crunching sound of dried leaves being crumpled under his beige colored boots. “I thought you weren’t allowed to bring devices into camp,” Jaemin slumped down on the spot beside you, watching you fidget with your camera.

“I got permission from Mr.Jung. He said I could take some pics for the sake of saving memories, as long as I don’t blame him if I lose it,” you chuckled, turning to your best friend before your eyes lit up at the marshmallows in his palm. Jaemin’s eyes flickered from your camera to your pleading expression, puppy eyes boring into his, opening your mouth in a large ‘o’ shape.

Jaemin bit his lip to prevent himself from laughing, his hand picking up one of the marshmallows in the other before aiming it towards your mouth. When you leaned forward to gobble up the treat in between his finger, he pulled away teasingly, causing you to let out a short frown. He giggled at your reaction, pulling the marshmallow close to you before pulling away once again once you leaned forward.

“Jaemin, stop and let me have a marshmallow, you greedy goblin!” you whined, bumping your shoulder rather harshly against his teasingly. Jaemin broke into a fit of giggles, nodding with a giggly, “okay, okay. Chill out.” 

He popped the fluffy treat into your mouth where you started humming in content, “thank you,” you replied melodiously with a wide smile. Jaemin laughed, ruffling your already messy hair before pulling his hat off his head to plop it lopsidedly on your head. You furrowed your brows, scrunching your nose as you pouted almost menacingly at him causing him to smile innocently and pinch your nose in between his free hand that wasn’t carrying the marshmallows.

“Finally!” you exclaimed, turning on your camera before Jaemin took it out of your grasp. “How much do you have left?” Jaemin asked, referring to the contents inside of your camera. You suddenly turned to him, camera closer to your face, quickly snapping a quick picture of his taken aback state. The flash coming from your camera nearly blinding him, causing black spots to line his vision for a couple of seconds. “Three, now.” you pulled the polaroid out of the dispenser, blowing on it smugly before shaking the piece of film in between your fingers.

“Great, then you don’t mind if we finish the last four polaroids on us?” Jaemin raised his brow in a rather flirtatious way. “Whatever, my grandma’s gonna gush about us either way, saying how pissed off she’ll be if we don’t end up as soulmates.” You shrugged as Jaemin lifted the camera to angle it so the two of you would be in the frame. Your grandmother was one of those people who were convinced that you two were going to be soulmates in the future. “That’s a risk I’ll be willing to take,” he nods with a laugh.

“Enough blabbering and put on a really ugly face so I can save it in my scrapbook, Na.” you joked, winking awkwardly at the camera as you brought your hand closer to your eye for a peace sign, hovering your index finger above the camera button. “Oh y/n, always so desperate to have more cringey pictures of me, aren’t you? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have a crush on me,” he smirked, causing you to lower your camera to purse your lips and roll your eyes at him.

“Just shut up and take a picture before I tell Mr. Seo that you’ve been eating all the marshmallows during the hike,” you threatened weakly, raising the camera once again to get a better angle. Jaemin to let out a soft chuckle before sucking in the corners of his lips into his mouth to make a duck face before his finger slowly slides onto the camera button, clicking it rather quickly.

For the next three shots, you two continued to goof off with either you or Jaemin ruining the last three photos. Only finally having a decent one when you threatened to burn his x-box if you didn’t get this last picture right. One polaroid had a picture of you pushing Jaemin’s face away from the camera, resulting in you showing your pearly white teeth.

“Shining shimmering splendid” as Jaemin liked to say. 

The other was a slightly less blurry than the precious one, with Jaemin trapping you squealing and squirming in his arms, scrunching your face in disgust. You soon revealed that you had kept this in your scrapbook that you were so devoted to at the time.  

The last picture was the clearest picture out of the four. A picture of you laughing brightly, hands pushing against Jaemin’s face, his lips puckered up to give you a teasing, friendly kiss. “I’m definitely keeping this,” Jaemin giggled, holding the polaroid in between his fingers with amusement written all over his face. You peeked at the photo in question, letting out a huff as you rolled your eyes.

“You’re such a hopeless romantic, it was a mistake to watch the Titanic with you,” you shoved Jaemin teasingly with a snicker, stuffing the other polaroids in the front pocket of your backpack. Jaemin pouted letting out a small “humph” as he crossed his arms rather childishly, “please?” he said, coming closer to you to poke your cheek.

You snickered at your best friend who was now pinching your cheek and chanting “please” in a playfully aggressive tone. “Pay me,” you stuck your tongue out jokingly, jaw dropping a second afterwards when you saw Jaemin pulling out his wallet from his pocket. “How much?” he asked, shuffling through his almost empty wallet. (He spent all the pocket money his parents gave him for a can of coke the seniors were selling during the hike, despite your protests)

You let out a laugh. “You idiot, I wasn’t serious, put your wallet back in before it cries at how empty it is, Jaemin.” you retorted, smacking his arm lightly as Jaemin smiled like a dork at your expression. “Oh, I see how this is. You just want to see how broke and empty my wallet is, didn’t you? You ” he accused, wiggling a finger in your face. 

“Yes, I definitely wanted to see how broke you are after I told you multiple times that the juice our moms packed us is way more worth it than some soda our senior offered. Definitely not because I was joking or anything,” you laughed sarcastically, rolling your eyes at the boy who let out an embarrassed giggle. “Shut up!” he laughed, flicking your forehead.

“It was just coca cola, you nitwit. You have no right to complain considering you practically begged me to buy you one as well,” he retorted, pinching your cheek rather hard. “I only asked! It’s your own fault that you decided to buy me one, for all you knew I could’ve shared yours! But  no, you’re a greedy little shit that wants to drink a whole can of cola by himself!” you shot back, laughing along as you pushed his hand away from your face.

“Clearly, coca cola means much more to you than our friendship. I can’t handle this betrayal!” you raised your arm to cover your eyes with the back of your hand dramatically, wailing like a banshee as Jaemin’s jaw dropped, feeling slightly offended at how you unceremoniously exclaimed his betrayal for the whole class to hear. 

“L/N!”

Jaemin smiled to himself at the vivid memory, remembering how you both laughed so hard the majority of your whole trip, so hard that your stomachs’ were aching. Remembering how you squealed his name in alarm when you were squirming in his hold, trying to get out of his arms when Jaemin tried to place a kiss on your forehead in front of everyone to mess with you. Your classmates were surprisingly unfazed by the immense amount of platonic affection displayed in front of them, but you couldn’t blame them. This is Na Jaemin we’re talking about. The boy who flirted with his nurse while getting an injection in his ass.

Though, Jaemin never realized how mature you both have gotten since then. How since your 16th birthday, you stopped having midnight texts that made you both grip your own stomachs out of laughter. How you both stopped joking around as much. How this whole soulmate ordeal tore your friendship apart.

Jaemin would like to convince himself that this was all your fault. You were the one that caused your relationship to fall, with your over the top devotion to making him love you more than a friend would. He would like to think that if it weren’t for you being so clingy and dramatic when professing your love, he wouldn’t have lost his childhood best friend.

He sighed softly as he closed his locker, gripping his biology book against his side with one hand and gripping the saddle of his bag in the other. Jaemin despised this empty feeling in his chest.The feeling that as if something had gone missing in his life. The same feeling of how he lost his newest transformers action figure back when he was nine years old.

As he turned around the corner, pausing in his step as his eyes widened slightly to see you leaning against the locker with your friends. A bright expression on your face as you listened to your friend ranting bout whatever Jisung did to fool the newest math substitute teacher into giving them a free period. 

Jaemin felt his mouth running dry, words stuck in his throat, a sudden uneasy feeling piling up into his chest. He scoffed lightly to himself, mentally scolding himself for his sudden nervousness. ‘Why am I getting nervous over this? It’s just y/n after all.’ he thought with furrowed brows before shaking the thought out of his head, huffing to himself before continuing on forward. 

It felt as if the world had slowed down for a dramatic effect. As Jaemin passed by you and your friend, he couldn’t help but look at you in the corner of his eye, catching a small glimpse of your laughing figure. And to his surprise, your eyes darted to his own, catching his piercing gaze. Both of your eyes met for a brief moment, the sound of students chattering around you growing deaf for a split second.

That is, until Jaemin got snapped back into reality when he watched the happiness from your eyes evaporate. A sad, hurt expression replacing it as your pupils moved away from his own, he watched your head turn to look at your nails, pretending to listen to whatever your friend was saying as you tried to mask your hurt with a slight smile.

Jaemin’s heart ached, a frown taking place on his own lips as he tears his gaze away from your figure to look down on the tiled floor. Jaemin let out a loud exhale as he makes his way to class, There was something hurtful about the  way your eyes instantly dart away to avoid his gaze, his heart aching at the thought that you couldn’t even look at him. Were you that upset bout the dinner party? He couldn’t recall the last time you were this upset.

As Jaemin sat on his usual spot in his Biology class, he began to get lost in his thoughts. The closest thing he remembered to you being this upset over something was when-

He was snapped out of his thoughts in a flash when he heard a loud container being dropped in front of him. Jaemin jumped in his seat at the startling noise, turning his head to the source of the action. Unsurprisingly, it was non other than his oh-so-precious seatmate, Lee Donghyuck himself. “What’s gotten you so pissed off? You looked as if you poured orange into your cereal instead of milk,” Donghyuck snickered.

“That’s a possible option considering I’m lactose intolerant, Hyuck.” Jaemin shot back with a rather sardonic tone. Hyuck chuckled, slumping in his seat beside Jaemin before continuing to speak. “Reminds me of when I bought you milk bingsu,” he snickers causing Jaemin to let out a soft chuckle, pushing the side of the older boy’s head away in retaliation. “You bitch, you knew I was allergic. Why couldn’t you just get me a fruit bingsu instead? Instead, you made y/n buy it.” Jaemin stopped himself from speaking any further, his mind drifting away to recall the wonderful memory.

“Jaemin, my good pal. You absolutely need to try this place’s milk bingsu.” Hyuck exclaimed as he sat down on the empty seat with his other friends with two big bowls of milk bingsu in his hands. Jaemin glanced up from his phone, a deadpanned expression spreading across his face as he slumped back in his seat with an offended frown plastered on his face.

“Lee Haechan, you know very well I’m lactose intolerant. Why couldn’t you just get a fruit bingsu?” Jaemin groaned, eyes glaring at his older friend who merely shrugged innocently as the rest of their friends dig into the scrumptious dessert with soft snickers coming out of their mouths. “The audacity,” Yeoreum snickered, waving a spoonful of the dessert in front of Jaemin’s face.

Jaemin huffed, blowing out a puff of air as he crossed his arms against his chest. “This speaks so much bout our friendship right now. Clearly, you guys don’t care bout me.” he muttered under his breath like a little 5 year old boy throwing a tantrum in his car when his mother said that they have food at home when he wanted Mc Donald’s.

“You’re such a baby. If you want one so much, go buy some.” Jeno chuckled, shoving Jaemin by the shoulder playfully causing Jaemin to let out a soft laugh. “Shut up, you know very well that I’ve gone broke from buying the latest Final Fantasy game.” he laughed, patting the empty wallet hidden in his jacket pocket.

“No wonder I couldn’t understand you. You’re speaking in broke with us rich kids, go away peasant.” Hyuck joked, earning a hard punch on the shoulder from the younger boy. “It was worth it,” he spat back. “ I’m good with starving for the rest of the month if it means I get to spend my whole weekend procrastinating on assignments for that glorious game,” he smiled in defeat.

“You big baby, I’ll buy it.” you sighed, standing up from your seat which was across the table from Jaemin’s, pulling out your own wallet from your hoodie, causing Jaemin’s jaw to drop. “Your girlfriend buying your meal for you, how romantic. Such a gentleman, Mister. Na Jaemin.” Hyuck applauded, clapping his hand together with each word that spews out of the idiot’s mouth.

“Y/n, you really don’t have to-” Jaemin insisted, standing up from his chair to look at you. Trying to swallow down the typical feeling of annoyance piling up in his chest whenever he talks to you, Jaemin tried to ignore the coos and howls of your friends gushing about how cute you two are. You had found out two of you were soulmates almost 6 months ago, and ever since then, things changed between you two.

You smiled briefly. At that time, Jaemin couldn’t decipher if she was just oblivious to the fact that he was annoyed and uncomfortable at that situation or you were just putting up a facade to mask your hurt when you saw his annoyed expression. “Hush, it’s not unusual for me to buy you things, Jaemin.” you grinned cheekily, walking up to the cashier and ignoring Jaemin’s annoyed whines.

Jaemin rolled his eyes at you in annoyance before sitting down and slumping in his seat with a heavy sigh. “Hey, at least you get a fruit bingsu,” Hyuck snickered. “Just like you wanted, right?” he leaned forward to pinch Jaemin’s cheeks, receiving a hard smack in response from the younger boy, an annoyed expression plastered across his face. 

“Shut up, Hyuck.” he snarled, slumping in his seat in annoyance.

“Welp, no matter. I got you some cookies.” Hyuck sighed, pushing the container towards Jaemin, causing him to lift his brow questioningly. “Cookies?” he asked, surprised. “What’s the occasion? You never gave me anything before,” Jaemin opened it to reveal that the container was filled to the brim with chocolate chip cookies. “You seem pretty down these days so I figured you needed the old cheering up by your best pal, Haechan!” he exclaimed with enthusiastic jazz hands.

Jaemin chuckled lightly, grabbing one cookie. “Don’t worry, they’re those dark chocolate, no milk kinds of cookies. You won’t have to go to the bathroom with a stomach ache later on,” Donghyuck snickered, patting Jaemin’s back when Jaemin looks at him and the cookie suspiciously. “Where did you even get these? “ Jaemin asked, inspecting the cookie with furrowed brows, eyeing Donghyuck suspiciously as if Donghyuck had poisoned said cookie. 

“Relax, Jaemin. I didn’t make them, so no pranks, I can promise you that.” Hyuck waved the back of his hand at Jaemin, telling him that he’s telling the truth. Jaemin shrugged, opening his mouth to eat the cookie before Hyuck spoke up again. “I got it from y/n,” Hyuck added on, making Jaemin pause, pulling the cookie away from his mouth.

“I think I’m good,” Jaemin muttered lowly, putting the cookie back into the container. ”Oh come on, Jaemin! I bet you missed tasting her cookies. Sure, you two aren’t haven’t been on speaking terms lately. But what’s stopping you from eating her Thursday Cookies? They’re literally to die for! Plus, you’re acting as if she poisoned them or something, it’s nothing like you never had before.” Hyuck groaned, grabbing two pieces of cookies and shoving one into Jaemin’s grip and tossing the other into his mouth.

Hyuck watched Jaemin from the corner of his eye, feeling sort of uneasy at the sad puppy-like expression plastered on his best friend’s face as he stared down at the cookie as if he was lost. “What’s wrong?” Hyuck asked with a raised brow, pushing back his bangs which almost covered his eyes. He might need a trim before Mark complains bout how his hair is gonna poke him in the eyes all the time.

Jaemin looks up at his friend with a startled expression as if Hyuck had snapped him out of his thoughts, Jaemin opened his mouth before closing it again, trying to think of something to say. “I’ve never had her cookies before,” Jaemin confessed, leaning his head against his palm, his elbow on the table. Hyuck’s eyes widened at the surprising statement, leaning forward to tell whether Jaemin is lying or not.

He wasn’t.

“WHAT?!” Hyuck exclaimed, attracting their classmates’ attention. Jaemin bit the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore the eyes of his classmates. “You couldn’t say that any louder, huh, Hyuck?” he shot back with a scowl. Though, Donghyuck didn’t care about the concerned eyes of his classmates boring into his skull for interrupting their conversation with his dramatic antics. “Don’t change the subject, Na.” Hyuck pointed a finger at his friend, a deep frown adorning his lips.

“What? I’m not,” Jaemin sighed heavily, looking back at his friend with a bored expression. “Stop lying!” Hyuck exclaimed, pressing his index finger against Jaemin’s nose. Jaemin raised his brow, “I’m really not, Hyuck. Why are you making such a big deal of this?” he asked with furrowed brows, concerned of his friend’s sanity. He really couldn’t remember why he was friends with Donghyuck at that given moment.

Donghyuck was acting as if he had just found out Jaemin is secretly those aliens that rule over the government, waiting for the right moment to start a world wide apocalypse. (according to Renjun’s theory during their shared art class, that is) 

“Dude. I’m not an idiot, you practically received a life’s worth of her delicious cookies every week! How have you not tried at least one of these? These are literally heaven baked cookies! A salvation of life! The only thing that’s worth living in life! The-” 

“Remind me how you’re not single again?”

Hyuck frowned, a pout appearing on his lips afterwards as Jaemin grinned proudly in response. “Whatever, what I mean is. I would literally send you death glares from across the hall because you were one lucky bastard to be receiving a large ass jar of cookies every week while I’m stuck here begging y/n for cookies only to receive, ‘oh, I gave them all to Jaemin.’ every week of my life.” he huffed, crossing his arms with a deep frown on his lips.

Jaemin’s eyes widened slightly at the statement, eyes falling back on the chocolate chip cookie in between his fingers. Did you really spend your time baking him cookies every week? He felt his heart flutter at the thought, a warm feeling in his stomach suddenly appeared as he eyed the cookie.

“Hey Jaemin?” 

Jaemin looks up from his locker, humming to see none other than your presence. “Y/n?” he raised his brow, stuffing his Chemistry textbook into his locker and grabbing his Math textbook as he speaks. “What’s up?” he asked in a bored tone, adverting his gaze back to the contents of his locker, pulling out the books he needs for his next class.

“So, I baked you some cookies. I used your mom’s recipe for your favorite peanut butter and dark chocolate chip cookies that we used to eat as kids together.” you exclaimed, handing him a clear air-tight glass jar filled to the brim with delicious cookies. Jaemin looked at the jar filled with cookies before sighing up at you, tired eyes boring into yours. “Y/n, as much as I love accepting gifts from you and as much as I love the fact that you care about me, but you really need to stop doing this.” Jaemin sighed, stretching out his hand to give you back your cookies.

“What?” you frowned slightly. “It’s just too much, I appreciate you giving me so much of these cookies. But it’s kind of a waste to give me so many don’t you think? I mean, I know loads of people who would want your cookies way more than I do. You’ve given me so much cookies, I’m not even eating them!” Jaemin exclaimed almost exasperatedly, sighing heavily afterwards. His eyes glancing at the jar filled with delicious treats to your soft pleading eyes boring into his.

“Come on, it’s just a jar of cookies. It would mean a lot if you accept them, I worked hard to bake them,” you pouted, giving him that look you often use to make him give in. Jaemin would often compare your expression to that iphone emoji with puppy pleading eyes whenever he gives in to your wants and needs. Jaemin almost let out a scowl at your remark, almost retorting back with a ‘it’s your own fault. I didn’t ask for cookies in the first place.’

He tried his best not to roll his eyes, sighing in defeat as he gave in to your pleas. “Fine, only because I can’t say no to that look,” he huffed, masking his annoyance with a pout of his own, shoving the jar of cookies into the front pocket of his bag. He watched as your puppy-like pout morph into a happy, pleased expression, reminding him of the cute emoticons he always used in his phone. He didn’t know why but It always brings a small smile to his lips to see your happy expression.

“Yay!” you cheered rather enthusiastically. “Why do you like giving me cookies so much anyways? It’s a becoming a weekly routine now for me to get cookies from you.” Jaemin chuckled as you both began to walk side by side to your next class. He watched as you shrugged simply, eyes forward, waving at a few students who passed by. “I just like giving gifts to my soulmate,” you giggled at him, skipping away from him before he could scold you for saying it out loud.

He shrugged, taking a bite out of the cookie before widening his eyes at the sweet taste. He let out a surprised hum, eyeing the cookie as if he was Aladdin and the cookie was the golden lamp with a genie inside. “Good, right?” Hyuck chuckled, amused by his friend’s expression. “ I still can’t believe you never tried these before. She says she got the recipes from Buzzfeed but I don’t buy it, I’ve tried making some with Mark but they don’t taste nearly as good as hers.” Hyuck blabbered on.

“On a rare occasions she would hand them over. But those are only when your ungrateful ass kept refusing her cookies. Like, it often made me think, ‘why couldn’t Mark bake as well as-” Hyuck’s words eventually gone deaf to the younger boy’s ears, head filled with his own loud thoughts as the sweet flavor of the cookie entranced his taste buds.  

He remembers constantly rejecting your gifts every time you came up to him with hands hidden behind your back, trying every possible excuse in the book so that you would possibly give them to someone else. Or even suggesting that you should give them to Hyuck whenever Jaemin spotted him talking to Jeno across the hall in the corner of his eye. Avoiding your slightly saddened expression. On rare occasions, you would give in with a sad smile and give them to either Jeno, Haechan or some other lucky soul that gets to have free cookies.

“Like, I’ve had her give me some of her super special recipes but they just hit differently from hers you kno-”

“It taste like her hugs.” 

“What?” 

Jaemin’s eyes widened when he realized he said that last bit out loud, his head turning to his friend who mirrored his wide eyed expression. There was a pregnant pause between the two boys, taking in the words that accidentally slipped out of Jaemin’s mouth. Jaemin opened his mouth to speak, trying to come up with something to say to cover up the previous statement he had made.

Hyuck furrowed his brows at his friend. 

“You can taste hugs?” 

“Mr. Lee is coming!” someone exclaimed, causing Hyuck and Jaemin to sit up in their chairs. Jaemin shoved the rest of the half eaten cookie into his mouth as Hyuck quickly closed the container and snuck it quickly into his bag, trying to act as casual as possible as their teacher walked into class with his usual stoic expression.

“Good morning, class. We have no time to waste, exams are in a month. Please open your textbooks to page 67.” their teacher announced in his typical booming voice, turning around to start explaining on the whiteboard in front of them. Jaemin glanced at Hyuck for a split second, diverting his gaze away when he caught his eye. Hyuck shrugged simply, burying his head into his arms into a sleeping position.

Jaemin wasn’t surprised to see Hyuck closing his eyes in content, thus, not paying attention to the lecture. It wasn’t such an unusual thing for Lee Donghyuck to doze off during class, thus ignoring the whole lecturing and depending on other students for notes or seniors for cheat sheets. Jaemin hoped Hyuck would let go of what he said earlier or even better, pretend it never happened.

As Jaemin advert his eyes back to the whiteboard and started to listen to Mr. Lee’s explanations, he didn’t realize Hyuck, whose face was hidden and buried in his arms, was staring into darkness with sad half-lidded eyes. He knew full well who Jaemin was talking about, he knew what was happening with Jaemin. The fate of those who rejected their soulmate’s love. He knew this would happen eventually but he didn’t expect this to happen so soon.

Deep down, he felt sympathy for what’s to come to his dear friend. He knew from here on out, it’s going to be a roller coaster of emotions for his dear friends and he was afraid of finding out the end to their story. 

Jaemin often spent his Thursdays hanging out at the arcade with his friends right after practice. As the good friend Jaemin was, he would often go broke from treating his team for some food and beverages. (As long as they didn’t get on his bad side or anything) Especially for those who were feeling down that whole week. Jaemin was more than willing to sacrifice his wallet’s contents for the sake of his friends smiling again.

But this time, to Jaemin’s surprise, Jeno was the one who offered to sacrifice his wallet for the team this week. Due to the exhaustion and stress of his constant chest pains, wrist pains, long endless assignments and his upcoming midterm exams, all he wanted to do that weekend was get at least 18 hours of sleep and binge watch the latest series that just came out recently.

But since, Jeno, the one and only Jeno who was the one who usually encourages the rest of the team to make Jaemin’s wallet an empty little bitch, was willing to empty out his pockets this time. He couldn’t say no. Hell if Jeno was the one paying, that meant someone in the team was feeling down or needed a real cheering up. 

Plus, it was finally his turn to scream, “BUY EVERYTHING YOU CAN. JENO’S PAYING, WHOEVER’S GOT THE MOST EXPENSIVE SHIT WILL GET A FREE JAR OF COOKIES!”

You can tell Jaemin had been waiting decades to say that. 

But sadly, he was too tired from all the pain he was dealing with every hour of his day that he was basically dragging himself across the floor when they arrived at the mall, making their way to the arcade with Jeno and Haechan’s arms slung over Jaemin’s shoulder, making a little skip with every step they take. “How do you guys have the energy for this?” Jaemin croaked, putting on a sloppy smile to mask his exhaustion.

“Said by the guy who drinks expresso every morning with what? Four extra shots? With no water nor sugar? Six times a day?” Hyuck replied in a sassy tone, nodding his head cockily at the younger boy. “Besides, it’s a once in a life time opportunity to make our Lee Jeno broke and penniless. The thought of Jeno’s wallet crying out of hunger will always be my mood booster.” he added on with a proud smirk, causing Jeno to roll is eyes.

“Plus, you, my friend, looks exhausted as hell. You need some refreshing fun time with your best buds, Jeno and Haechan!” Jeno exclaimed with a proud smile, whipping out his VIP card in between his fingers like some kind of weird card trick. (which he rarely whips out when going to the arcade because why bother bringing a wallet when Jaemin or Chenle exists in their friend group?)

“What?” Jaemin deadpanned, brows furrowed in confusion.

“We exist, too, hyung!” Chenle exclaimed behind them in an offended tone, waving his hand in the air to alert his seniors that his existence was right behind them. “Honestly, we’re here because Haechan-hyung said Jeno-hyung finally brought his wallet,” Jisung snickered, finally lifting his eyes up from the nintendo switch his mom bought him a couple months ago.

“Not wrong, really.” Chenle shrugged, pulling Jaemin forward so that they could walk side by side with their seniors. “You know, you’re the rich one here. Why don’t you treat your seniors once in a while,” Jaemin teased, sending the Chinese boy a cheeky grin. “That’s because you’re mean. I don’t treat mean people,” he replied back with a cackle.

“I brought you kimchi last week, you ungrateful brat.” Jaemin hissed back as the five of them entered the crowded arcade, music booming loudly in their ears, bright lights from the arcade games nearly blinding their eyes. “What game should we play first?” Hyuck clapped his hands, rubbing them against each other with a sinister expression as Jeno came up to the counter to check his VIP card, nervously opening his wallet.

“Oh, what bout those-” as Jisung continues to speak, pointing at a random direction. The wide grin on Jaemin’s face soon dissipated when he heard a familiar laugh through the symphony of random gaming music. His head turned to see the source to confirm his suspicions, eyes widening when he saw you laughing with a bunch of your other friends.

What made his smile evaporate in a second was the sight of Renjun right beside you, leaning his arm against the game you were playing, laughing along with you as the rest of your friends continued to cheer for you to win. Jaemin felt the oh-so-familiar electrifying sting under the skin beneath his wristwatch, wincing slightly at the burning pain. He tried to mask his pain and turn his head away, his heart feeling heavy at the sight happening a few meters away from him.

Jaemin snuck his aching wrist into the baggy pockets of his jacket. Eyes back to his friends who were laughing at Jeno’s puppy-like expression to his now half empty wallet. He bit back a pained hiss, his heart beat muffling the loud noise around him as he watched Renjun lean closer to you to look closer at the game screen, his blood boiling at the mere sight.

He turned his gaze away following his friends to the long aisle of racing games, watching as Hyuck grabbed the play card from Jeno’s fingers and hopped into one of the games. “Jaemin get over here so I can beat your ass!” Hyuck exclaimed eagerly as Jaemin let out a soft sigh and sat on the empty seat inb between Hyuck and Jisung.

“The one with the lowest score has to chug down Jaemin’s disgusting Starbucks order,” Chenle snickered, sliding the card against the slot before handing it to Jaemin. “Then I’ll gladly lose on purpose, my drink tastes like rainbows and unicorns, thank you very much” Jaemin laughs, carefully taking out his aching wrist to grip the fake steering wheel, ignoring the excruciating pain in his skin as he passes the card to Donghyuck.

“Shut up, Jaemin.” Hyuck teased as they begun to play. 

Jaemin’s mind fluttered through the nostalgic memories of his childhood with you, remembering the first time your parents ever brought you to the arcade. When they had to use a certain amount of those silver or gold coins to play games. As Jaemin walked side by side with his friends, sipping his Starbucks order in his right hand (he lost the game on purpose because despite the empty pain in his chest, he could always distract his mind away from the pain with his precious expresso that Jeno payed) and his left back in his pockets.

Jaemin’s eyes paused at the familiar aisle of crane games, remembering those lovely times when you were both still in middle school, you would always play crane games to see who would get the most prizes. Coming home with a bag filled with plushies or small toys and wide grins on your faces as both of your parents just stared at the two of you in disappointment for spending their money on crane games.

‘It’s an investment’ you would always say whenever you ran towards the crane games with Jaemin trailing right behind you, whining bout how you rarely play the other fun games just to waste your money in a bunch of small hand sized plushies. ‘Investment into what exactly? You have a bunch of plushies in your shelf that aren’t doing anything but collecting dust,’ he would chuckle as he watched you slip a coin or two into the machine with your tongue stuck out in concentration. ‘Into my happiness,’ you would reply with a smug expression before focusing on the crane inside the glass box.

He smiled to himself at the memory, his eyes catching a few kids gathering up at the crane games, screaming and hollering every few seconds when their friend accidentally moved the crane too far from the doll. His chest aching once again when a brief memory of when you two were in your first year of middle school, screaming whenever the timer runs out right when you were bout to drop the claw with his hands filled with a towers worth of plushies and you laughing in victory like a maniac as you both watched the pocket money in your wallet slowly disintegrate into nothingness.

“You’re into crane games, Jaemin?” Jeno asked, causing Jaemin to snap out of his thoughts. “Huh?” Jaemin turned to look at his friends, his mind still in a blurry haze. “You’ve been staring at those kids as if they had stolen your last candy bar,” Jeno commented with a slight laugh, nodding his head towards the group of kids, screaming in victory when the claw machine dropped the large stuffed animal into the gigantic slot.

“It just reminded me of something,” Jaemin put on a slight smile, shaking his head with a light laugh, continuing on drinking his expresso and moving on forward to the music games. Hyuck gave Jeno a worried look, who sent him back a concerned look of his own as the two of them caught up with Jaemin. (Chenle and Jisung went to the snack bar near the arcade to get some snacks to sneak in the movies later)

“You okay, buddy? You’ve been spacing out a lot recently,”  Hyuck asked in a concerned tone, slinging an arm around Jaemin’s shoulders. Jaemin turned to Hyuck with eyes void of emotion, a frown displayed on his face as he casually sipped his drink. “Yeah? I guess,” he shrugged simply, avoiding Hyuck’s concerned eyes.

“You sure? You don’t look too well,” Jeno asked, brows furrowed even more as Jaemin let out a small nod. He could feel his heart getting heavy with each second, his wrist aching even more as he tried to avoid his friends’ worried expressions, trying to act nonchalant as if he wasn’t clenching his fist tightly in his pocket to try to suppress the excruciating pain he was enduring. 

“Guys, really, I’m fine.” Jaemin forced a smile on to his face, turning his head away from Hyuck and Jeno. At that exact moment, Jaemin regretted turning his head away. His eyes widened to see you with your friends, your arm was wrapped around a gigantic penguin plushie, talking to Renjun with a wide smile, a laugh eliciting from you when Renjun said something that Jaemin couldn’t make out.

“Did you really have to spend most of your money on a bunch of plushies?” Renjun chuckled, nodding to Yebin who was carrying three shopping bags worth of random plushies. You giggled, nodding as you reached up to pinch Renjun’s cheek eagerly. “It’s an investment into my happiness, leave me alone Injun.” you giggled, clutching the penguin tighter against you when you felt it slipping in between your arms. 

Renjun slapped your hand away from his cheek, huffing out exasperatedly before grabbing your plushie from your arms and into his. “Let me carry that,” he sighs, adjusting his grip slightly before sending you a soft smile. “Renjun you really don’t have to,” you frowned, tugging the flippers of the penguin as if he was going to give you back your plushie.

“I’ve already made Youngheum and Yebin my slaves, I don’t need you stooping into their levels,” you joke, dodging the dog plushie Yebin had threw at you right after Youngheum let out a dramatic, “BETRAYAL!” as they dropped shopping bags filled with your prizes unceremoniously.

“Shut up and let me carry this for you, you ungrateful little shit.” Renjun chuckled, using a hand to carry the life-sized penguin plushie to flick your forehead. “The audacity, I’ll be sure to bake you guys a fuck ton of cookies this week,” you snickered as Hyunjin let out a laugh. “I want cookies too!” he exclaimed, shaking your shoulders vigorously as he whined.

Jaemin let out a loud groan of pain as he felt an intense stinging sensation, his heart was beating erratically in his ears. “Jaemin, you okay?” Hyuck asked, pulling his arm away from Jaemin’s shoulders as Jaemin bit his lip to suppress a hiss. Jeno and Hyuck turned to see what Jaemin was glaring at, eyes widening at you standing so closely to Renjun.

“Jaem-” 

Their eyes widened when they silently watched Jaemin pulling his wrist out of his pocket, tugging his wrist watch down to see the oh-so-familiar tattoo glowing  a bright blood crimson red. The words were stuck in their throat, they didn’t know what to say. Or if they could even say anything as they silently watched their friend bit his lip and clench his eyes shut at the pain of his wrist and chest.

“Shit, what’s going on?” Jisung’s deep voiced cut through the tense atmosphere, causing Jeno and Hyuck to turn to see Jisung and Chenle with their jaws dropped, arms filled with snacks as they stared at their Team Captain with horrified eyes. Jaemin’s eyes were glossy from the intense pain, his chest was aching like hell, his heartbeat muffling the music around him as he hissed out in pain, eyes still on your figure laughing with Renjun.

“Get Jaemin, out of here. I knew this was going to happen but I didn’t think it would be this bad.” Jeno ordered, trying to pull Jaemin out of the arcade but the boy could barely move. The pain getting more intense and intense by the second as Jaemin couldn’t tear his eyes away from the two figures standing not even a couple meters away from them.

“Jaemin come on, it’s gonna get even worse if you stay here.” 

T A G G I N G : @lixseu @morks-watermelon @cherrystay @candiednickles @12am-musings @lowkeyviv @btm-taeyong @d-nghyck @gothmingguk @luvlyjaemin @cowward @smileyyuta @cakelyn @uncovermenow666 @aconeptun​ @comically-sleep-deprived​ @wtfhaechan​ @chaeshii 

TAG LIST IS : O P E N E D ! do inform me if you changed your url. I couldn’t tag three people i’m so sorry idk what’s going on

[sweetestlamb]

Lighting Up Your World

Episode 17 

Summary: Gang-tae and Mun-yeong continue their road trip, finding themselves and helping others along the way. 

Author's note: Here is part 1 of the weekend fic updates! I tried my best to make these interesting and multilayered channeling my inner Jo Yong. The focus is on MY/GT and their healing but I also wanted them to heal others too on this journey so we do meet an OC. If I had time this could be something that continues each weekend, but work and life starts again very soon so I won’t make any promises but I had a really fun time writing this and trying to plot out the story so it felt familiar to IOTNBO with conflicts and resolutions, only they all happen within the chapter lol. Without further ado, here’s episode 17 ;) *Play “Lighting up Your World* 

The mood shifts drastically after Sang-tae's departure, they're both sulky and a bit flabbergasted by his sudden decision to leave, this was their first trip as a newly fledged family, it felt monumental, like a rite of passage of sorts; but by the morning they've accepted his choice and set sights on their next location. Gang-tae lays in disbelief thinking about how much his brother has changed, how much their relationship itself, has shifted.

Thanks in part to her, his eyes land on her sleeping form, gorgeous in the low lighting of the camping van.

She had crashed into their lives like a bulldozer, hell bent on having him, but only as an object- something to capture and conquer. Somewhere along the way, despite their unconventional start; love had blossomed. It wasn't an easy start and it took time to nurture but he couldn't imagine his life without her now, their little family.

I love you Moon Gang-tae.

She loved him. Meant it with every fiber of her being, it was detectable in her eyes, swirled in the pools of her captivating eyes. If that wasn't enough her actions proclaimed her love, never turning her back on him despite his sometimes despicable behavior and words that cut her. Running back to defend him from the one person she despised the most, uncaring of her own fate. He hadn't known he could experience love like this, all-consuming devotion. Not until she entered his life.

A smile blooms on his face, it all started with a stab. He knew others wouldn't understand- Jae-su's disbelieving face flashed in his memory- but it made perfect sense for them, she who was so jagged and broken when he met her and him so complacent and selfless, saving others even at his own detriment.

I met your mother after she stabbed me in the hand. Then months later she stabbed me in my other hand.

His chuckles fill the tight space of the van, until he hears a hoarse voice, "What are laughing at?"

With a small jump he turns to face her, adorable baffled look on her face, and he sits up to better see her.

"I was thinking about us."

She looks at him deeply, searching his eyes before continuing, "And that made you laugh? Were you thinking of good things?"

"Well... I was thinking about how we met and how we would tell that story to our future son who looks like me." He responds sheepishly, heart singing at the soft look that forms on her face, that happens often now, her blushing every time he mentions their future. He makes sure to do it often, for both of them. After wrongly viewing their relationship as ill-fated, it seems more important than ever to say the words out loud, breathe them into the world and give them life. Mun-yeong and Gang-tae are destined. 

He can’t help but imagine her round with his, no their child, swollen belly protruding from her slim frame, as she demands his attention and curses him for her condition. It would be as beautiful as it was terrifying. 

All in due time. 

After a few seconds of sustained eye contact she finally snaps out of her daze, craftily switching the subject to escape her own unease, “How are you really feeling about Oppa leaving? Do you want to end the trip and follow him?” 

For a moment, he wonders who is the person and what have they done to his Mun-yeong? The woman he first met lacked empathy for others, disregarded their feelings and trampled all over their boundaries; she was a new person, reborn. No, unpeeled, showing another layer to her personality. Considerate and caring with him and with Sang-tae, even putting them first at the expense of her own desires. 

Swiftly removing the blanket covering his torso, he strides toward her on the elevated bed, reaching out to caress her head, she is aptly watching his every move head subconsciously leaning into his tender hold. 

With his eyes firmly locked on her own he replies, “I...am happy. I am happy that he knows what he wants to do, he finally has a dream of his own. A dream just for him. And...I don’t want to go back. When I told you I loved you, that was my promise to keep moving forward, no matter what.” 

Being here, with you, that is my dream. That he leaves unsaid. 

He basks in the warmth of her smile, beaming on him, shiny solely for him. His own personal sun. 

“You’re so cheesy now.” She teases him playfully rolling her eyes, and he chuckles before shrugging, he’s never had a chance to be cheesy, probably has all that cheesiness packed up inside ready to come out, she is going to get it all. 

Curling his hands around her small face, he draws her closer before pressing a kiss to her forehead, watching her eyelids flutter close as she sighs gently. His lips are soft on her smooth skin, nothing more than a peck, a silent thank you for being here with him. For staying. 

Then he finally announces, “I know our next destination. While you were sleeping I found another spot for us.” Before she can question him he states, “It’s a surprise.” 

Her groan of annoyance is music to his ears, as he rushes to the front of the van, ready for their adventure. 

The sunlight brilliantly twinkles on the rippling waves of the water as he pulls up to their destination, a lake sequestered away and roughly hidden by trees and foliage, there is a quaint wooden dock leading to the watery oasis but not much less. He hums in contentment gazing at it, it is almost too peaceful to be true but they of all people deserve some peace after the hell they have been through. 

Mun-yeong stumbles out of the tiny bathroom of the van, peering out the window at the view, she stares at him bewildered, “A lake?” Why did you take us to a lake?” 

He shakes his head at her question, “To swim. Why else do people go to a lake?” He can hear his brother’s voice replaying in his mind, Why ask such an obvious question? 

With a glare she humphs crossing her arms in a symbol that he can read all too well- I’m not doing it- before stomping away, “I’m not swimming.” He watches her back as she defiantly strides back into the small compartment. 

He makes them a quick late breakfast of rice and grilled meat, scooping out a hefty amount for his grumpy girlfriend who has yet to leave the camping van. He had nagged and pleaded at the door, eager to get outside and see the lake, it was tempting especially on such a scorching day. But she had ignored all his calls, even childishly responded “I can’t hear you.” Before he had stomped away in the opposite direction, fondly irritated at her behavior. 

The van door creaks open as she finally decides to exit, he pointedly does not look up, not wanting to seem too eager at her arrival after she spitefully ignored him. He pushes the food in her general direction, not making eye contact. So she sits down on the unoccupied chair to his left, he is unprepared for the breadth of naked skin he sees when she does. 

With his fixed gaze on the food in his lap, the edges of his peripheral vision catch her bare legs, heeled sandals encase her foot but there is no material in sight on her legs. Just bare smooth, inviting skin. 

He gulps, reaching for his water. 

Drawing in a deep breath to reinforce himself, he slowly begins to raise his head, eyes traveling from her ankles to her smooth thighs, similarly naked before he stops on her torso. She is wrapped in a bathing suit, tight fitting and devastatingly distracting. The devilish suit is black and partially mesh, with her skin peeking through the stomach but solid across her breast and lower region. 

His tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth, despite his desperate swallows of water to re-hydrate his heated body. Grabbing his food, he stuffs his face with rice and meat hoping that will prevent him from begging her to let him take her back into the van and peel that suit off her and.... 

“I am still not swimming, but I figure I can get a nice tan at least.” She offers as away of explanation, he nods robotically, eyes still trained on the ground. Before a white bottle is forced into his vision, he jumps back in his seat, eyes finally landed on her body completely. 

Unbelievable. 

The glimpse he saw does nothing to prepare him for the entire picture, she looks amazing in the suit as if it was made specifically for her body, knowing her taste and monetary capabilities; the idea isn’t too far-fetched and he curses whoever gave this weapon to her. Atop the bridge of her nose sits her glossy black sunglasses, the same ones she wore when he saw her outside, a beautiful black storm cloud under falling cherry blossoms. Her hair is pulled back into a high messy bun, two braids on her side that disappear into the bun, wisps of hair that escaped the bun frame her face beautifully. In short, she looks like the cover of a high-end fashion magazine and he is at a lost for words. 

His musings are prematurely interrupted by her waving something in his face, a thin container, “--Are you listening to me? Take off your shirt.” 

He shakes his head, almost dropping his bowl in shock. 

Only seconds away from taking another gulp of water before her request. He doesn’t miss the smirk that curls on her lips, he knew she did that on purpose. 

“What? What are you talking about?” He shakily asks, pulling his thin white t-shirt protectively around himself. 

She tilts her glasses down ensuring that he can see her eyes before dramatically rolling them, “You act like it’s something I haven’t seen before.”

“We’re outside though!”

“So what?” She fires back, looking at him, exasperation farrowing her eyebrows.

He breathes hard, their eyes locked in a heated battle, before he sighs accepting his fate, admitting to himself that he is not as opposed to the idea has he’s acting. Guilt settles in his stomach as he remembers the excitement that coursed though him as he realized that without his hyung, he would be alone with Mun-yeong.  All by themselves, at given times no one around for miles. No one to hear their screams. The idea of being alone and unencumbered with her was thrilling. 

In one fluid motion, he stands up and grabs the end of his shirt, carefully lifting it up and over his head. Standing in nothing but his slippers and dark blue swim trunks, the only pair he packed, unlike her who probably had endless suits of different styles and colors. In that way they were vastly different, he was practical and minimal whereas she was extravagant and larger than life. 

Her eyes burned on his skin as she stood up as well, carelessly tossing her food on the table, before curling her finger at him in a seductively beckoning call, “Come closer.” Her voice was smoked honey, as if in a trance he found himself obeying, stepping forward a half step, “Closer” and closer he went until he stood directly in front of her. 

She audaciously looked him up and down, tongue peeking out to swipe across the span of her pink mouth. 

Then with anticipation thick in his throat he watched her hands grow closer to his body, creeping closer and closer to his skin and then they were finally on him. 

He jolted at the cold. Jumping away from her hands. 

“What’s wrong with you? I told you I was going to put sunscreen on you.” Her eyes narrow and he feels a blush cover his cheeks, at his red face she lets out a long drawn ahhhhhhhhhh before speaking, “Why did you think I wanted you to take your shirt off? Were you expecting me to do something else?” She lifts one perfectly threaded eyebrow at the suggestive inquiry while simultaneously moving back into his orbit to rub the sticky white cream into his stomach. 

He lets himself enjoy her touch, deliberate ministrations into his skin, her face close enough for him to kiss and only a thread of control keeps him contained. Her hand strokes across his abs, fingers purposefully creeping into the crevices of his body before she trails her manicured finger down to his trunks, so close to where he wants her hand, panting now with anticipation, half hard just from her hand on his skin. 

Then she stops. 

Pats him on the shoulder with a clipped, “All done.” Impish look clouding her face, he glares at her departing back, the pep in her step; she knows exactly what she just did to him. The wink over her shoulder reinforcing his speculation. 

Damn, she-devil. 

When she begins to rubs the same sticky cream into her legs, slowly and wantonly, peering at him whilst she does it, his only solution is to run and dive straight into the water, welcoming the cool blanket that soothes the raging heat in his loins. 

He swims alone for a few minutes, propelling himself back and forth in the shallow water, before he eventually feels the twinges of boredom creeping in, this was meant to be their adventure, he didn’t want to swim alone, imagining wet kisses and wandering hands under the guise of the water.  All new experiences that he only wanted to share with her. 

With those thoughts in mind, he silently vacates the water, footsteps light as he tiptoes to Mun-yeong, glowy and alluring from her spot on the lounge chair she  pulled seemingly out of thin air. Sunglasses still shielding her eyes he waves his arm to see if they attract her attention, she lays motionless still, breathing steady and unhurried. 

Perfect. 

Now, knowing that she will not notice his approach, he creeps forward putting on his best imitation of a spy, avoiding twigs and leaves, anything that will alert to his presence. After a measured and timed approach, he looms over her, taking a moment to bask in her tranquil beauty. She is a goddess in that bathing suit and he wants to remember her face in this moment, in a few seconds she will be ravenous in his arms, clawing and thrashing. It is the perfect juxtaposition of her personality. A beautiful disaster. 

Before he can second guess himself- maybe she was right and he did have a death wish- he grabs her, lifting her out of the lounge chair and wrapping her securely in his arms. 

“YAH!” Her reaction is expeditious, nails scrapping across his arms as she tries to break free from his strong hold, he winces at the sharp burst of pain shaking her slightly to dislodge her, but her efforts do not hinder his mission. He laughs at her screams and threats, “Put me down! Gang-tae, I will kill you!” Gaining speed as he reaches the end of the dock, with a bounding leap he flies through the air, weightless, until they crash through the surface of the water. Water splashes onto the dock from their impact and his nose burns with the sudden influx of water, before he scrambles to the top, taking her now suspiciously limp body with him. 

The sight that greets him when they burst to the surface, makes his body go numb with regret. 

Her face is ashen, almost grey in hue, wet hair plastered to her skull. But what stands out most are her eyes, usually brimming with love and light for him, now sunken and packed with an emotion he never wanted to put there; fear. 

He can feel how rapidly she is breathing, her body shaking like a leave under his hold as he keeps her afloat, the air wheezes out through her colorless lips as she begins to convulse in his arms, he is paralyzed under her visible distress. 

She begins to keen, “Please, please, get me out. I need to get out!” The sorrowful plead that shatters into a scream breaks his heart into a million pieces, and with only a small hiccup he responds to her cries. Kicking his legs powerfully, swimming as quickly as he ever has in his life, arms protectively wrapped around her shuttering form until the reaches the bank. 

It takes a moment to for her to recognize that they are now on land but once she does she leaps from his arms, whipping around and racing to the camping van without another word. 

He is left shell-shocked. 

Standing alone, wracking his brain to figure out what caused such a visceral reaction and not coming up with an adequate answer. Then he realizes that is not important, all that mattered now was reaching her and comforting her, those eyes would haunt him forever otherwise. 

Dashing to her rapidly retreating form, he catches her arm, twirling her around to face him. 

The fragments of his heart, shatter into even smaller pieces. 

Twin trails of tear stream down her face, dripping off her chin before disappearing into the ground. 

“Mun-yeong...” He vocalizes her voice like an apology. 

She breaks the connection between their arms, turning once more to walk away and he can’t stand to see her walk away from him, not again, never again. 

Softly capturing her hand again, he begs, “Please, tell me what I did wrong?” 

Struggling to speak through her choked throat she replies, “I can’t right now. I just need to be alone for a bit, I’m not running away.”

Those words again. 

He wants to hold on tighter, recalling how she had run away after uttering those words before, viciously slamming all her doors shut and pushing him out. She reads his face like a children’s book. 

“I promise, I’m not running away, this time. So let me go, for now.”

Trusting her words, he releases her hand. Heart sinking as she climbs the stairs and disappears into the camping van. If the sun continues to shine, he is unaware, the dark clouds of shame and regret hanging over his forlorn head. 

“When I was young, I had dreams of my mom drowning in a lake.” 

His head buzzes at the confession, so intensely focused on the food sizzling on the grill he had missed her reappearance. Lowering the tongs to give her his full undivided attention as she bares another layer of Ko Mun-yeong. 

“My dad... I thought he drowned my mother in a lake. And every night I would have dreams about her screaming for my help. Sometimes when I have those sleep terrors, I can see her above me, her body is dripping wet. I....” She takes a pause, sitting down in a chair further away from him and he almost cries at that small amount of distance she is placing between them. 

But she is also wearing his flannel shirt, dwarfing her small stature, her fingers clutching it as if needing protection. 

Following a deep breath she presses on, “I haven’t been in water since. I’m....scared. I’m sorry that I’m already ruining this trip--”

He doesn’t allow those words to settle in the air for a second before he’s out of his seat and crouching before her, he begs for permission with his eyes, and watches as she ruminates before nodding, with a sigh of relief he gathers her cold hands in his own, warming them instantly. 

“You didn’t ruin anything. I didn’t know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I made you cry. I never want to make you cry, I told you I would protect you and I let you down. I am so sorry, please forgive me.” Tears pool in his eyes, as he presses his lips to her hands a kiss following each word of apology, anguish flooding his system. 

Silence fills the space between them as he continues to kiss sweet sorries into her skin before she wrangles her hands away, placing them softly on his downward chin, lifting his head until their eyes meet. 

Her dark orbs are now swirled with pain, love and something inexplicable. 

“I should be asking you to forgive me, I don’t want her on this trip. This is just for us, she can’t ruin this.” Her voice trembles despite the force that she exclaims her wish. 

He smiles grimly, “We can’t run from her. You once told me that trauma should be faced head on. You were right, we can’t be expected to be perfect yet. We’re only human, you didn’t do anything wrong. Thank you for coming back and letting me in.” 

I love you.  He thinks it hard enough for her to hear it. 

A sad smile slides across her face, “You’re so adamant these days, I can’t shake you. If I tried to run, you would probably chase me down.” 

He doesn’t verbally reply to her assumption, letting the resolve in his eyes speak volume instead, she has always been able to read him like a book, this time will be no different. 

She appears so delicate and fragile, he doesn’t even attempt to stop himself from crouching up and pressing a kiss to her lips. She moans at the barely-there touch, hands tightening on his face as she drags him closer, deepening the kiss with a languorous swipe of her tongue. He crawls into her space, tilting his face to transform the kiss from deep to dirty, mouths opening to prod and swallow each other. Her teeth graze across his bottom lip before, pulling it and releasing it with a filthy, pop. His dick jumps at the stinging sensation. 

Reluctantly he pulls away from the delicious kiss, worry for her overriding his sex drive, she hadn’t eaten since this afternoon, locked herself away since the lake incident and skipping lunch. It was more important that she get sustenance right now. 

She groans at his sudden withdrawal, blindly chasing after his mouth. He laughs at the adorable image. 

He presses a piece of grilled beef to her mouth instead, chuckling as she opens her eyes in doe-like surprise. He keeps that comparison to himself, she wouldn’t take kindly to him comparing her to self-proclaimed arch nemesis right now. 

“Eat this. My mouth doesn’t have any nutritional value.” 

Her face twists as if she is about to argue, but the booming growl of her stomach pierces the air and she blushes before opening her mouth and consuming the succulent piece of meat. 

Dinner passes by in a flurry of meat and rice, as they take turns feeding each other and she teases him to retrieve meat from her mouth. They talk about the future and all the places they want to go, he hasn’t smiled this much in his entire life. As he packs up their dishes and chopsticks, he sees her stretching, pulling her body taut from the motion. He wonders if she’s wearing anything under his flannel shirt, her bare thighs taunting him for a second time today. 

“I’m sleepy.” 

Like a Pavlovian whistle, his body reacts to the innocuous declaration. Images of their previous night together flood his minds, slamming her into the bedroom wall as he sucked wet kisses into her neck, her legs wrapped around his waist as she sensuously grinded into his erection, her head thrown back in rapture as they imitated sex through their clothes, both hungry as they ripped through the clothes, his eyes rolling back as he slammed into her tight pussy, her nails scratching welts on his back. The sweat on their bodies mingling and drenching her luxurious sheets. 

The soft click of the van door closing slaps him from the memory and it takes a moment to realize that he is now alone. 

He presses down on his erection, hard, embarrassed at how aroused just a memory of her can make him. 

Inhaling the crisp night air, he marches into the battlefield. 

The camping can is dark upon his entrance, the only illumination provided by the stray moonlight that filters in through the tiny windows, after his quick and efficient appraisal of the confined area, he realizes that she is nowhere to be found.  Strange. 

Scratching his head he wonders to his bed mat, pausing for a moment before making the decision to remove his shirt, confidence dominating the usual stream of shyness that floods his bloodstream. He lays down on his bed roll, comically similar to Mun-yeong as she had beckoned him to join her on the bed. He had been a fool then, to refuse such a desirable offer, but he wouldn’t be making the same mistakes ever again.  

The soft patter of her footsteps approaching causes his heart to skip a precious beat. Then it stops completely when she enters his line of vision. 

Temptation. 

That is the word that blares like a siren in his head as he takes her in, her hair is down in soft waves around her face, face washed clean and flawless in the light, and finally he looks at the short silk slip that contours to her every bump and curve. Spaghetti thin straps exposing edible shoulders, as the silk ends dangerously high on her thigh, lace dancing around the ends. 

Jaw permanently on the ground, he watches in dismay as she barely glances at him, wondering eyes fleeting across his abs almost too fast to catch, as she climbs the stairs to her bed, her ascent making the slip creep obscenely up her thigh almost giving him a wonderful glimpse at her ass. 

Pushing past the frog in his throat he croaks out, “Where are you going? I thought we would sleep down here together.” 

She absently arranges her sheets, moving them out of the way, putting her body on clear display for his starving eyes. With eyes that glow in the dark she calmly replies, “Why did you think that? It was your idea to sleep separated in the first place remember?”

Yes, he remembered. When Sang-tae was still on this trip with them, she had offered for Sang-tae to take the bunk bed and they sleep side by side. But he had declined anxiously, knowing that he would not be able to keep his hands to himself if they were sleeping in such close proximity, terrified at losing control so close to his brother. 

She seemed to take a malicious glee from throwing his words back in his face. 

“But that was before.” He whined, “I thought you were sleepy.”

He tried to subtly infuse meaning into the word hoping to remind of their last rendezvous. 

She didn’t bite. 

“I am sleepy, that’s why I’m going to sleep. Good night Gang-tae.” With a quick wave, she rolled over, facing away from him as he glared daggers into her back. 

Fuck. 

He couldn’t see the smirk that overtook her face at his obvious frustration. 

Time ticked by, or it would have if they had a clock in the van. Instead he marked time with the sounds of crickets chirping in the forest. 

Chirp. 

Chirp. 

Chirp. 

Finally he sat up, tossing the blankets from his body as he gazed at Mun-yeong’s still form, the moonlight provided enough radiance to see her perfectly in the dark. He couldn’t resist the pale glow her skin, clearing his throat he called out quietly, “Mun-yeong? Mun-yeong-ssi? Are you awake? Mun-yeong?”

His calls went unanswered. 

He sighed. 

Then he picked up a shoe throwing it at the wall of the camping van, the sound deafening in the silence. She jolted up, with quicker reflexes than you would expect from someone who was deeply sleeping. “What was that?” She turned to him, shock on her face. 

Twisting the truth slightly he replied, “Um.. I don’t know. Sounds like something ran into the van. Probably an animal. But now that you’re awake I was wondering if you’re cold?”

There was a pregnant pause and he vaguely heard her whisper under her breath, “Ran into the van, my ass” before she spoke loud enough with the intention of him hearing, “No, I’m not cold. If you’re cold you should use Sang-tae’s blanket he left it for you.”

He rolled his eyes at her helpful suggestions, that was the last thing he wanted. So he pressed on, “I’m using that blanket too, but I’m still cold.” He gathered the blankets as he approached her bed, resembling a child fleeing to their parents room after a bad dream. 

“What do you want me to do about that?” She asked, still turned away from him and that made it effortless to ascend the stairs and slide into the bed with her. His body’s weight sinking into the bed, announced his presence and she looked at him in surprise. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m cold.”

“I told you to deal with that on your own.”

“No, I want you to help me deal with it.” He pulled her into his arms, crushing her face into his naked chest. Minutely moaning at the smooth feel of her nightgown on his skin. 

With a huff of dramatic annoyance, she pushed him away, turning her back to him again before saying, “Fine you can stay. Please go to sleep, just go to sleep.” 

Their night at the guest house surfaces in his mind, her pleas for him as he coldly rejected her once again and begged her to sleep, suppressing his desire to take her right there and then. Karma was indeed, a dish that was best served cold. 

He now knows exactly what she’s doing and why. She is serving him a taste of his own medicine, showing him how he made her feel in those moments when he wasn’t quite ready to let her in, but wasn’t man enough to voice that to her either, so he lashed out and hurt her unnecessarily. 

Gathering his courage, he swallows his pride, “I’m sorry.”

Silence is his only reply. 

Then with a small move, she presses back into his chest, their bodies melding from shoulder to toe. 

He wraps his arms around her, humming at finally having her back in his arms. He holds his breath, waiting for the seduction to continue but she simply lays in his arms, contently playing with his fingers while he’s so hard he could hammer nails with his cock. 

With a casual grip he begins to play with her fingers too, moving their hands up until they are treacherously close to her breasts, ensuring that every swipe of his thumb on her hand also collides with her nipples. Her breath hitches when he catches her erect nipple, but she doesn’t stop him. 

Then he begins to undulate his hips, thrusting his boxer-clad cock into the silk of her slip, groaning at the intoxicating sensation before his control snaps like a rubber band and he surges forward, pulling her close and grinding into her with dark intentions. 

She hisses at his cock’s hard crash into her ass, “Aiish you sly fox, is this why you came here?” 

In lieu of responding to her obvious inquiry, he pushes his hand down the front of her gown, squeezing her breasts in his hand, harshly pinching the tight nipples until she moaned and squirmed in his hands. He pumped his thick length into her back, haphazardly catching her ass and the crease of her thighs with each rough thrust. With a punishing squeeze to her chest, he retracts his hands only to push his boxers down his hips, cock bouncing out in excitement, ready to play. 

His eyes roll back at the feel of her silken gown on his hot engorged skin, precum wetting the material obscenely, as the game ends and she is as enraptured as he is, humping back into him, vigorously. Ripping her panties off from under her nightgown, he tries to plunge a finger into her moist center, but his elbow knocks into the bed railing and he groans at the hindrance. She is a panting mess in his arms now, pressing back into his heavy thrusts, his cock catching on her wet folds, as they both moan in pleasure. 

“Can I try something?” Nerves prickly under his skin.

The question leaves his mouth before he can talk himself out of it. She stills at the sudden question but shakily replies, “Yes, just do it. Stop talking.” 

He laughs at her impatience, jubilant that she wants him with as much vigor as he wants her. Grabbing her around her waist, he hoists her up into a seated position before sitting up too, using that leverage to turn her upside down, before dragging her onto his body and he lays back down onto the bed. 

A perfect 69. 

She gasps at the sudden change in position, before looking back at him from over her shoulder, “I knew you were watching porn in the bathroom. Next time, come to my room we can do some hands on learning.” 

He swats her ass in retribution, “Now you’re the one talking too much.” 

She smirks pressing her lips together and he can’t help but joke, “Well you don’t need to close it completely, just put it to better use.” 

Eyes darkening from the proposition, she leans forward and swallows the head of his cock, wet mouth wrapping him in a squishy heaven. His hips subconsciously jerk forward, forcing more of his length in her mouth and she moans around the intrusion. 

Then he looks up at the feast before his eyes, her wet and open above him, primed to be devoured by his hungry mouth. He wastes no time in licking her folds, wiggling his tongue into the moist cavern and groaning as she moans at the sensation, vibrations tingling around his cock. They both set off to wreck each other, her tongue relentless as she slurps and licks every inch him, distracting him from wrecking her. At a particularly hard suck at his balls, he shoves two fingers into her, corkscrewing immediately and giving her little room for adjustment. 

He grabs her ass cheeks to pry her open further to his onslaught, twisting his fingers into her at the same time licking across her clit, pulling it into his mouth and humming at her addictive flavor. 

She pulls off his cock to shout, “Fuck.” Among other expletives and it’s good that he’s not a religious man because pure blasphemy falls from her sinful mouth. He misses the feel of her mouth around him, so he thrusts up wildly catching her mouth as he fucks into her, in perfect synchronization as he fucks into her with his fingers. 

She is a drooling mess above him, spit drowning his cock in a filthy river, he focuses on making her lose her mind as he feels his end growing near, tongue and fingers both hammering at her pussy, plunging, filling, worshiping. 

Her body twitches violently, drawn tight like a bow, before snapping its release and her juice rain down on his waiting face, bathed in her glory. 

His tongue never stops its lap at her until she keens in pain, “No more, it’s too much.” Reluctantly he pulls away, pretty swollen lips closing at his retreat, he kisses them one final time. 

Without warning, she leans forward and slides down his cock, pushing past her gag until he feels himself slide down her throat and two quick fucks into that constricting paradise is all it takes to shoot hot cum down her throat, his eyes roll in the back of his head. She swallows and swallows, until finally drawing off as the abundant cum dribbles on his naked thighs, some even pooling on the sheets. 

Collapsing to her side of the bed, it takes some effort to meet her eyes in their opposite positions, her head at his feet. But when he does, he sees all the love and fire he knows shines luminous in his own, he worries if this passion might just be too powerful for even them, might it burn them up leaving nothing but their ashes? 

What a way to go. 

He gathers her pliant body in his arms, moving her until she's sheltered in his arms, she will never have to sleep alone again, she has Gang-tae and Mang-tae. The doll now clutched tightly in her hand.

They drive for days before they come across a small town, pulling into a gas station to refill the van tank. They hadn’t yet emptied it since their first fill and he was working hard so they wouldn’t, loathing the idea of getting stranded on the side of the road with Mun-yeong. She would chew his head off. 

“Be careful.” He calls out to her as she wonders into the diner adjacent to the gas station, they’d she’d grown tired of rice and grilled meat and had decided to get some food at the nearest diner. He’d told her to go ahead and get them a table, while he refilled the camping van. 

He thinks about how far they’ve come on this journey, literally and emotionally. He has shared stories with her that he has never shared with another soul, not even Jae-su. Has experienced things he never thought he would be allowed to, this trip itself was a life long dream that he'd foolishly given up on but she showed him that it was okay to dream.

He didn't have to suppress his every whim or desire, was teaching him everyday that he was worthy of wanting and receiving.

With all those thoughts permeating his mind, he is completely caught off guard when he enters the diner and sees her menacingly looming over three young boys, a butter knife in her hand. "If you keep bothering her, your parents won't have children." Those are the words, he hears her utter, to children.

All who, trip over themselves fleeing from her screams of “A witch, a witch!” as they scamper back to their tables and said parents glare at the women dressed in black from head to toe, provoking their innocent children. 

She smiles at them, waving with the knife still prominently in her hand. He promptly snatches it from her grip, reprimand on the tip of his tongue before a small mouse-like voice cuts him off.

"Thank you lady. Are you a princess?" Appearing from behind the shadow of Mun-yeong's body, a thin child creeps out, twiddling her fingers as she gazes up at Mun-yeong like the stars are hung in her eyes. He's never seen a child look at her like that. 

"No. I'm not a princess. They weren't wrong, I'm a witch." She answers deadpan, twirling her fingers to add to the glamour.

She looks very much the part in a bellowing black dress with a full skirt and puffy sleeves, her hair pulled back in a severe ponytail with a black rose pin in the front. She towers above the young girl in shiny black leather pumps, that almost gleam under the fluorescent lights. Armor back on since the lake. 

He readies himself for the cries that her statement will evoke.

Flabbergasted when instead he hears, "Cool. You're the prettiest witch I ever saw."

Mun-Yeong preens at the compliment before turning to walk away, but the girl catches the material of her dress, rudely tugging it to get her attention.

The sharp eye at the hand on her dress is enough to make the girl immediately release it but Mun-Yeong peers down in question, "When I grow up will I be pretty like you?"

Without even a second to consider Mun-Yeong replies, "No. No one is pretty like me."

He watches the joy melt from the child's eye and opens his mouth to lessen the blow, take the sting off her too blunt words. But she beats him to it, "You shouldn't aspire for looks, you can't control that. Pick something you can control, like being strong so you can beat up your bullies." Her little shoulders perk back up and she beams at Mun-Yeong, his girlfriend's lip curl up at the side.

Before she walks into the diner, finding an empty table, he watches in shock as the young girl wordlessly trails after Mun-Yeong. The sight so familiar it knocks him in the heart. Just like flies to a fire, people like them were drawn to Mun-Yeong's light, the sparks that singed around her as she boldly did what you only dreamed of.

He joins them both at the table, and finally takes a good look at the little girl. She has a cute round face, rosy cheeks, her hair is pulled back in a disheveled ponytail, what stands out are her clothes, they are too put it kindly filthy. Tattered mess that hand off her thin frame and immediately the need to protect her overwhelms him.

"So what's your name brat?" Mun-yeong's deep voice breaks the silence.

"Min-jo."

He sends a warm smile in her direction, noting that her eyes haven't once left Mun-Yeong. Still he adds to the conversation, "Hi Min-jo, I'm Moon Gang-tae and this is my girlfriend Ko Mun-yeong. She writes children's books, maybe you've read one of her books before."

If her eyes were filled with adulation before, now it is tenfold as she jumps in her seat, "You write books? That's so cool! Do you like it? Are they fun? What are they about?"

Taking a sip of the water, the server brought them a few minutes ago with the menus, Mun-Yeong glances from the corner of her eye, before darkly whispering, "They're about chatty little brats who get eaten when they ask too many questions."

Min-jo's eyes widen in shock, little mouth falling into a perfect O, before her bell like giggles ring through the air, "You're so funny Ms. Witch!"

Mun-Yeong smiles back, a full face crinkling smile, at a child. Someone else's child. He is stunned into silence as he watches them converse, the kid ignoring Mun-Yeong's hint and asking her a million more questions. She even answers a few. He watches the miracle, stuffing noodles into his mouth, utterly charmed and bewildered.

When they've all finished their meals- he's still shocked at the amount of food such a small body was able to consume- he opens his wallet and places down the amount plus a hefty tip. He stands up and they follow his lead, Min-jo still trailing behind Mun-Yeong, before a voice stops her in her tracks.

"Oy! Where are you going? You know better than to bother the guests, get back here!" A woman in an apron waddles out, catching her by her arms preventing her from taking another step.

The woman bears no resemblance to the child, sharp where she is round so he wonders if that's her grandmother, before he asks the question aloud. Min-jo's head bends down until her face is completely hidden, "No. I'm an orphan I don't have anyone." Her voice is barely a whisper, lost in the wind as soon as it leaves her lips.

He watches Mun-Yeong tense at the word, eyes shifting back and forth between the two. Three orphans in one diner, the world's saddest story.

He wonders if that was what drew the girl to them in the first place. Destiny. Then he remembers what he overheard. Definitely destiny, Mun-yeong showed up when she needed someone to help her. 

If someone shows up when you need then, I call that destiny. 

Mun-yeong sniffs at the tears that are pooling in the child’s eyes, her own eyes dark pools that reveal nothing. 

"That's no excuse to feel bad for yourself, you can't control that either. Stop following me and learn how to be a leader, then one day when you're older you can make your own family. I did." Her words are matter of fact with no warmth yet he sees the hope they ignite on the child's face, her eyes large in wonder. Pride washes over him like a wave.

Mun-Yeong turns to leave, before promptly stopping and returning to the girl, bending down to meet her at eye level, "Tell those bullies that a witch gave this to you and if they tease you again it'll turn them into frogs." She unpins the black rose pin from her hair sliding it into the young girl's messy hair, her little hand comes up to touch it in wonder.

Tears swimming in her innocent eyes.

Without another word, Mun-Yeong leaves in a whirlwind of black cloth and witchy flair, and he watches Min-jo watch her, her seemingly cold words had been exactly the balm this child needed. He bids Min-jo farewell, bowing at the older woman who takes the young girl's hand, maybe not her biological grandmother but clearly she cares for her. He hopes they let each other know one day, their true feelings.

Love should be shared and acknowledged, unless what's the point of loving?

"You made her feel better."

She looks up at him from her place on the chair, passively, "I told her the truth."

He noticed a long time ago that she doesn't quite know how to respond to compliments, begs for them but once she receives them she quiets down as if taken back by their presence.

"You did really well Mun-Yeong, I'm so proud of you." Instinctively her head comes forward seeking his hand and he happily strokes his hand across her head, amazed by the woman he loves. He impulsively presses a kiss to her head as well, breathing in the floral aroma clinging to her hair.

That night as they lay together, no facades this time, she walks right over to him and slings into his arms, demanding that he stroke her head to help her fall asleep. He concedes happily. Too tired to try for anything more, he resolves to do it tomorrow. The thing that has been on his mind since he told her that he loved her.

He's going to ask her.

What's the point of having all this love and not showing her?

[nxrthmizu]

Hello!! Could I request a number 7 and fluff for Nishinoya? platonic to romatic if possible? I'm a very friendly and energetic person. I'm very talkative and outgoing, and I tend to show my affection for others a lot! Thank you~~

| Pandas and Bamboos | Nishinoya Yuu 

»»——⍟——««

prompt | #7- Animals 

pairing | Nishinoya Yuu x Reader

words | 1.9k 

author’s note | Hello! Here’s my first Nishinoya piece, so I hope it’s accurate! Enjoy~ 

»»——⍟——««

“You promise?” You asked one more time for good measure, delight making your toes curl. “You promise?” 

Nishinoya Yuu, your best friend- Rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Yes! If you help me practice, I promise I’ll take you to the zoo next week.” 

“Deal!” You grinned from ear-to-ear, picking up a ball from the net. “Here we go!” 

The two of you were in the the backyard of your house, where there was a small volleyball court that your older brother used to practice in. You had dragged up a wooden board that blocked the view of the other side of the court, and Nishinoya was stretching his muscles in the centre of the court. 

“Here we go!” You told him, taking a deep breath and sending an overhand serve straight at the wooden board. The ball bounced off the wooden board and changed direction in less than a second. It ricocheted towards the court, but before it could touch the concrete, your golden-eyed bestfriend dove for the ball, sending it up into the air. 

A wave of thrill brushed through your body as you jumped, spiking the ball towards the board. It bounced off again, like expected, and once again Nishinoya was there to dig it up. The two of you repeated the spike-dig-spike-dig routine over and over again until one of your spikes shot out of court. 

Pants clouded the air as the two of you caught your breath after an exhilarating five minutes of practice. 

A spark glinted sharply in his golden irises as he looked up at you. “Again!” 

»»——⍟——««

In the end, the both of you had worn yourselves out for the next three hours until your muscles were sore and you were ready to drop. Nishinoya’s energy seemed to never deplete. By the end of three hours, your mother hollered for the two of you to come for dinner- Yuu was at your house so often that your mother had started making dinner for him, too. 

He did keep his promise, though. 

One week later, at 5am in the morning, Nishinoya had greeted your mother, who was out early to feed the chickens, and let himself into the house. 

“Y/N!” He whisper-yelled into your ear, making you jump and scream simultaneously. “Let’s go! We’re going to the zoo!” 

You caught your breath and your heart, wanting to slap your bestfriend for scaring the hell out of you at the crack of dawn. “The sun isn’t even up yet!” You complained, burrowing yourself back into your covers. 

“We’re taking an early train so we avoid the crowd!” He yanked your blanket away from you. “Come on, I’m skipping volleyball practice for this. Get up! We don’t have time to waste!” 

A groan rumbled down your throat as you begrudgingly dragged your sorry ass out of bed. “How are you always this energetic?” You whined. 

Five minutes later, the two of you said goodbye to your mother, and then the two of you were on your bike, Nishinoya cycling with your seated on the main seat with you sighing sleepily on the pillion. Both of your bags were tossed in the basket in front of the bicycle, jiggling against the metal frame as the two of you descended down a hill. 

A smile spread across Yuu’s lips as you leaned forward, your cheek resting on his back as you dozed off lightly. His heart fluttered quietly while he biked on contentedly, trying to pedal softer as not to wake you. 

“Y/N-chan.” He whispered, feeling your stir awake behind him. “We’re almost at the station.” 

You blinked sleep away from your eyes as the two of you rolled up to the front of Sendai Station, the sun just barely rising over the horizon. “That’s fast.” You yawned. 

“Of course!” He huffed. “You weren’t the one that had paddle up and down numerous hills.” 

»»——⍟——««

“Look at that! We’re the earliest.” Yuu said triumphantly. You gave him a deadpanned look. 

“Yuu, the ticket counter isn’t even open yet.” You told him dryly. “Come on, that coffee shop’s open. We could go grab some coffee and wait for them to open.” 

He pouted as you dragged him into the shop. 

“Sit. Keep an eye on the ticket counter.” You told him sternly, plopping him down at one of the tables next to a window that had a view of the zoo’s ticket counter. “Don’t go anywhere, Yuu.” You warned. 

A soft laugh bubbled out your throat as you watched Yuu sit quietly by the window like a freshly-scolded puppy. “I’ll have... A mocha and a hot chocolate with extra cream, please.” You requested with a smile at the tired-looking barista. 

“Here you go.” The barista told you with a sigh. “Enjoy.” 

“You can stop looking so sad now, Yuu.” You flicked his forehead with your finger, grinning at him. “Here’s your hot chocolate with extra cream.” 

He brightened immediately. “You do love me!” Nishinoya exclaimed victoriously as you rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out at him. 

“I do not.” 

“You do!” 

“I do not.” 

“You do!”

In the end, you stuck out your tongue at him childishly, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Fine, I do.” 

“Ha!” 

“But that’s only because no one else would love an idiot like you.” 

»»——⍟——««

Nishinoya bit his lip, deep in his own thoughts as he waited for the ticket counter lady to give him two tickets. Did you mean it when you said you did love him? And... Did you love him romantically? 

“Sir.” The ticket lady snapped him out of his daze. “Here’s your tickets. The entrance is over there.” She pointed, giving him a weird look. It was not common to see teenage boys get up at the crack of dawn just to be the first one into the zoo. 

“Y/N!” He called out to you, who was sitting on a bench, scrolling through your phone as you waited for him to get the tickets. “Here you go!” He looped the ticket around your wrist, holding out his for you to do. 

“Don’t move.” You instructed, tying the plastic around his wrist. “Okay, let’s go!” 

Nishinoya bounced through the entrance with you, the two of you too overly-excited for the security guard’s liking. 

“Thank you!” You shot a bright smile at the security guard; Nishinoya dragging you off even as you spoke, already rambling about [your favourite animal]. “Oh my god, Yuu, slow down!” You panted, your hand slipping away from his as you stopped, panting. The libero of Karasuno’s volleyball team had dragged you across half of the zoo, having already memorised where the [your favourite animal] enclosure would be. 

“Hurry up, Y/N-chan!”  Yuu grinned brightly. “If we hurry up, we might be able to see the [your favourite animal] before it wakes up!” 

Your eyes brightened. “Really?” 

“Yeah!” 

»»——⍟——««

The two of you had eventually stopped running around like maniacs and had turned to walking around the enclosures one by one. 

“What is that?” Yuu’s jaw dropped as he stared into the platypus enclosure. “It looks so weird.” 

“That’s a platypus.” You snorted, speed-reading through the information panel next to the enclosure. “It looks like you.” 

Yuu’s eyes shone brightly, his golden irises glistening like the sun. “You think I look special?” 

“I never said that!” You reeled back indignantly. “Did you know platypuses are mammals but they lay eggs?”

“That’s so cool!” He exclaimed, jumping up into the air to get a better view of the platypus, who looked unamused at him. “Hello platypus! Y/N-chan thinks we’re both special!” 

»»——⍟——««

“So cute!” You squealed, your eyes fixated on the giant panda that was munching happily on a piece of bamboo. “That bamboo looks very tasty, too.” 

“I’m going to go steal the bamboo from it.” Yuu decided before you jerked his shirt harshly, giving him a stern glare. 

“Don’t you dare steal someone else’s food.” You hissed at him, glowering. “The bamboo is very important to the panda! Look at it!” You pointed at the furry black-and-white animal. “He looks at the bamboo like it’s the thing he loves most in the world!” 

Yuu nodded like he had just been enlightened about his purpose on the planet. “I see now! You’re right!” 

“I wish someone could look at me the way the panda looks at the bamboo.” You sighed dreamily. Nishinoya turned to fix his golden irises on you, watching the way your [hair colour] hair swayed in the slight wind, feeling his heart flutter at the way you stared at the panda in utter adoration. 

“I do.” He muttered softly. 

“What was that?” You glanced up in surprise, not having heard what he said. “Yuu?” 

He grinned brightly. “We’re totally buying panda plushies at the souvenir shop later!”  

»»——⍟——««

“Thank you!” You squealed, jumping into Yuu’s arms, enveloping him with a bear hug. Other visitors around the souvenir shop shot the two of you weird looks, but the two of you were too absorbed in your world to notice. “It’s so cute!” You grinned, squishing the cheeks of your new panda plushy. “I’m going to name him Yuu!” 

Nishinoya cackled victoriously. “You’re naming him Yuu because he’s cute like me, right?” 

“Oh, keep dreaming.” You scoffed, whacking his head lightly. “Say one more word and I’m naming him Ennoshita.” An evil laugh rung inside your head as Yuu reacted, looking offended and horrified at the thought. 

“You wouldn’t!” 

---

“Yuu?” 

He hummed in response, his feet constantly pushing the bike forward as the two of you rode out of the roads leading to Sendai Station. 

“Thanks for today.” You mumbled into his shoulder, your arms wrapped around his waist. “And the plushy.” 

He coughed, feeling a blush paint itself onto his cheeks in the shade of Nekoma’s uniform. “I was just repaying you for practicing with me. Practice with me again next week, and we’ll go to...” 

“The fox village!” You suggested happily. “Squishy foxes with squishy cheeks.” 

Squishing the cheeks of foxes didn’t sound very safe to him, but what the hell, Nishinoya thought. If any of the foxes dared to bite you, he’d rolling thunder them. “Sure!” He agreed quickly. He got to spend time practicing with you- And then he’d get to bring you out to places you wanted to go. Yuu really didn’t see any downside at all. 

“And... About what you said at the panda enclosure... Did you mean it?” You asked suddenly, your voice getting softer as you burrowed your face into his back in embarrassment. 

The bike screeched to a stop as Yuu pressed the brakes too suddenly, almost sending the two of you flying forward. “You- You heard that?” He turned to look at you with an incredulous expression. 

“Y- Yeah.” 

“Oh. Um.” He coughed awkwardly.  “Yeah.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut, too scared to face whatever teasing remark you would throw at him. Instead, he felt your lips on his cheek, but by the time he shot his eyes open, you had already drew back, a fierce red on your cheeks. 

“Um. I look at you like the panda looks at the bamboo too.” You admitted. “When you’re not looking.” 

A grin slowly spread across his cheeks as he tried to keep his heart from bursting from the sheer amount of affection he had for you. “So. We’re going to the fox village next week?” 

He turned back, pedalling up the hill with renewed energy as you wrapped your arms around his waist tighter. “Yeah.” 

»»——⍟——««

Thank you for the request! 💕

@owlywrites one day we are going to go to Miyagi and we’re going to cuddle foxes- Look up Miyagi Zao Fox Village, they’re too cute for me- 

»»——⍟——««

[turtletimewriting]

Logan’s Adventure- To the doctor’s

Summary: What it says on the tin!

Note: Woop woop! I actually found some motivation to write so feeling good about these ones! I will say, there isn’t any tickling in this one so if you’re reading purely for the tickles then sorry! 

This is based on the tickle forest idea by fluffomatic so check them out!

Beginning!--- Patton’s part!

_._._

“Well where do you think we should go?” Virgil asked. Logan took a pause to consider the options.

“Well all options are valid and useful so I guess-”

“Cool because if you don’t really have a strong opinion, then I say we’re going to the doctors,” Virgil stated and marched on the stoned road leading straight into the village. Logan huffed a laugh at him, “Just... I guess now that you’ve mentioned it, I don’t want to end up getting bitten or a rash or whatever.”

“Sounds good to me,” Logan smiled before shyly linking their hands together.  

Now it was of course no surprise to see that the side that looked like a prince straight from a Disney film would create a medieval European village. The houses all stood tall with dramatic black wooden frames but still somehow made them feel at home immediately. Maybe it was because everyone they passed waved and nodded at them and the first house they passed had a mother placing a hot apple pie on the windowsill. There was colourful bunting strung up the old fashioned oil lamps and they could both almost hear the Disney-esque music playing in the background. It was a short walk until they came across the doctors. 

Walking in, the receptionist smiled widely and waved them over. Luckily, the waiting room was pretty much empty with only one girl fidgeting and tapping her foot. “Hello lovelies! How can I help?” The receptionist spun on her office chair to face them. Despite how friendly everyone was, Virgil automatically kept looking around the office leaving Logan to do the talking.

“Hello, I’m afraid we don’t have an appointment nor are we actually ill. This is our first time... travelling through and we wou-”

“Oh!” The lady butted in and started typing furiously on the computer, “That’s no problem. So would you like a drop-in session to go over how to protect yourselves and basic aid for the wildlife here, right?”

“That’s sounds great, thank you.”

“No problem. I just need to ask some questions so the doctor knows what to ask you all about?” 

“Go ahead.”

“Right, so firstly names?” The receptionist asked much to both of their surprise. Usually most of Roman’s creativity meant that any imagined space and people knew them. Typically every villager would rave about a certain red clad prince hero, they would bake for a certain lovely young man in bright blue, Logan made an effort to challenge the professors and every villager knew to leave the poor shy man in black to himself. 

They both answered basic questions about themselves before the receptionist boredly asked one last question that froze them, “Okay last one, are you lees or lers or switches?” 

“Uh... what?” Virgil whipped round to actually face her for once and Logan simply bluescreened. 

“Do you prefer being tickled, the ticklee, or tickling someone, being a tickler? Or, of course, a little bit of both?” The receptionist asked as if she was simply asking them what they’re favourite colours were. 

“Of course Remus would also create not only paperwork but... stupid questions,” Virgil grumbled but he already knew he was going to answer quickly. Yes this was an anxious nightmare but then he wasn’t about to cause a scene to someone innocently doing their job. He’d just have to get Remus later.

“I’d say both... switches?” Logan asked with a nervous look to Virgil. 

“Yeah?” The lady asked clearly wanting a bit more.

“I’d agree with that but I do think it’s important to note that Logan here leans strongly to the lee side,” Virgil quickly butted in.

“What?” Logan demanded.

“Okay great! You’re all good to go. You won’t have to wait long. Probably no more than five minutes. The doctor will call you. You can take a seat while you wait but I will say that the girl also waiting was bitten by lersquitos so maybe keep you’re distance,” She smiled widely and submitted the form before Logan could fight against any of their answers. 

“Thank you,” Virgil smiled before dragging his bumbling stuttering boyfriend by the shoulders and sitting them a couple of seats away from the girl. 

“You. Are. A... nightmare,” Logan finally snarked once his mind finally loaded from the betrayal. 

“Eh, the doctor’s need all the information they can grab. That means they need to know about your ‘stress relief’ mechanisms,” Virgil breathily whispered into his ears while trailing his fingers up his arms, leaving Logan flinching and childishly giggling. They stopped however when the girl groaned at their teasing. 

“Uh, excuse me. I’m sorry if this is really rude, but we heard you got bitten by... a something. Do you mind telling us about that?” Logan asked 

“Oh, uh a lersquito,” The girl answered with a judgemental look. She answered as if they had asked what colour the sky was. 

“Yes. That... What is that?” He asked. The girl took a deep breath and releasing an obnoxiously long sigh.

“Yeah it’s just a bug. It bites you and you get into a ler mood. It’s like...” She awkwardly paused but continued while never once looking at them, “you can’t get the idea out of your head and it’s like your fingers can’t keep still, y’know. They mostly hang out around water, so yeah.”

“That has got to be a Remus creation,” Logan nodded to himself and the girl simply shrugged them off and continued staring at the wall while slowly flexing her fingers. 

“Yeah wait!” Virgil suddenly perked up, “how on earth do we fight against that! A bug that bites you! I didn’t pay attention to any bugs. We may have already been bitten! And, and, the map goes through the forest. How on earth are we meant to-”

“That’s why we’re here. Surely the doctor can help us,” Logan answered and smoothed his bangs out of his eyes, much to his dismay. 

It wasn’t much longer until they got called by the doctor. She was dressed like any other doctor with no indication that she specialised in any tickle related stuff. “Hello, c’mon in!” She waved them inside a room. It looked also completely normal. There was a typical notice board behind her desk filled with different flyers and information. This was the only indication that they were in a world created and based on tickling. Even Logan had to admit that it was distracting to see a massive poster of a a cartoon man getting absolutely destroyed by bugs with glowing pink mushrooms in the background. 

He snapped back to attention when he noticed the silence. The doctor laughed at them both considered Virgil was still entranced by the poster. “Sorry! Uhm, can you repeat that?”

“I just asked if this was your first time through?” She asked with a polite smile. 

“Oh yes! Right. Yes this is our first time travelling and we would like to be prepared for anything that may get us... in trouble.”

“Ah well there’s not much advice I can give,” She responded.

“Of course it wouldn’t be that easy,” Logan mumbled under his breath but the doctor kept talking without pause.

“Just apply basic common knowledge and you’ll be alright. Don’t mess around with any weird plants, leave the white flowers alone, be careful around animals. Remember if you do get into trouble then come see a doctor if you’re worried. Did you have any more specific questions?” She asked Logan who was still flicking back and forth between the blatant poster and her.

“What is the most common reason people visit?”

“Well usually it’s the ants. Not a lot of people remember to look where they’re standing and, to be honest, their colonies are not obvious. They sting you and can almost triple your sensitivity. Not a problem if it’s a kid but if you’re in the middle of work then it can be a nuisance. Also, if you do get stung and it lasts more than four hours without treatment then seek medical help immediately.”

“Is there any way to... cure the sting?”

“It’s a simple lotion. It won’t make it disappear, you’ll still be quite sensitive, but it really helps dampen the effects. The sting is enough so that your clothes tickle you so a lot of people will buy it in bulk,” She answered while handing them both the tiniest travel bottle of the lotion. It wasn’t much but then he guessed it made sense that they wouldn’t hand them loads of it. 

They chatted but otherwise the doctor was reluctant to give them anymore considered her stance was thoroughly ‘just use common sense’. Virgil kept his gaze fixed on the notice board but the longer they talked, the more confused he looked. Even Logan ended up nudging him to try and get him to pay attention. 

As they were leaving, Virgil finally spoke up. “Wait, can I look at something?” He asked but he was already leaning over her desk to pull off one of the notes. Unlike the other leaflets, it was just plain paper with a scrawled hard to read chicken scratch. 

He showed it to Logan with a concentrated frown. It read:

The treasure is kinda smelly and gross but you’ll love it!!!!

“Is that a clue!” Logan gasped, intentionally snatching it from his hand. 

“It just stuck out as weird,” He pretty much said to himself because now Logan’s mind had latched on. Any mind based puzzle and Logan was in his happy place. The wording all screamed that this was a treasure that Remus created or at the least Remus made the clue. Had they missed more clues? Were they supposed to have any idea what this means? This was so vague! It spoke about the treasure but not about what the password to unlock was. Maybe the password is what the treasure is! 

Logan absolutely didn’t pay attention to Virgil saying thanks to the doctor and shoving them out the door. Virgil merely fondly rolled his eyes and pushed them out of the village and up to the path. Back to the adventure! 

The path led straight into a heavy forest with vines and the constant chirping of birds. The bushes seemed like they were always moving with different animals scuttling about and Virgil could already feel himself start to sweat as the heavy trees trapped the heat in the forest. All this time, Virgil had to admit he did feel a little worried about getting unfairly sneak-attacked but also that was nothing compared to now. The thick heavy forest only showed that they were truly in the thick of it now. They weren’t sightseeing around a village. They were in an adventure. 

They had barely stepped through the forest before stopping. Across the path was a weeping willow. It was just as gorgeous as terrifying. The soft pinks and white rustling together in a beautiful dance of a feathery bright petals. But also that was the most obvious trap he had ever seen in his life. Logan was still mumbling to himself staring at the clue so he carefully plapped the clue out of his hands and silently pointed at the tree. 

“Ah,” Logan said.

“Yeah. Ah. What do we do?” Virgil sighed. Logan looked around with a wince. The path carved through extremely thick trees and bushes and dense foliage. 

“There’s no good option here. We could keep to the path and just take whatever this tree does or we could go around it.”

“But god knows what’s in there!” Virgil gasped!

“So do we go forward knowing we will get tickled by these... feathery looking branches or get tickled by the unknown. There isn’t a good option here,” Logan sighed. 

This adventure took 20 minutes!

Total time: 46 minutes.

OOH BOY THAT WAS SOO LONG, I’M SO SORRY!

The adventure continues, but what shall our boys do?!

1) Go forward

2) Go off the path 

Now, Logan and Virgil know about lersquitos, tickle ants and discovered a clue! But now Logan is distracted with figuring out the clue!

[writers-thoughts09]

True Mind, True Heart

Act 1 Chapter 1

Title: True Mind, True Heart: Act 1 Chapter 1  Word Count: 9.6k words Pairing: Zuko x Oc (or reader, however you wanna look at it) I zon’t own Avatar Rating: PG, sometimes I’ll sprinkle some 13 to add some spice ;) Warnings: PTSD, a wink of abuse of power (not caused by Zuko, though I am using his season 1 roughness. I won’t make him abusive in this story, we don’t vibe with that). A/N: I’m baaaack, sorry for any grammar errors and taking so long. I really wanted to make sure I was getting what I wanted to get in with purpose. I started it a few weeks before Zuko spots the avatar, but I still go through episode 1. Enjoy please like and comment if you wish. Next chapter is based off episode 2′s plot.

|Prologue| 1 | 2 |

*

Act 1: Salvation

“Sometimes life is like this tunnel. You can’t always see the light at the end of the tunnel, but if you keep moving, you will come to a better place.”

- Iroh

Panda Lilies. One of the rarest flowers in the Earth Kingdom. Grows only on the rim of volcanoes, usually found on Mt. Makapu, and holds deep meaning. Although its black and white color is simple, panda lily petals are as soft as velvet. Its stem is such a vibrant green I’m sure it’d rival the Earth King’s jewelry and robes. Even though it may not be the most unique in appearance, for some reason I can’t help but find it enraptures me. So small, rare, fragile even; but enduring…

As a child, I always wondered what panda lilies meant. I’d often see my father come home with it behind his back after a long trip from the northern Earth Kingdom to surprise my mother. He’d present it to her in such a way it reminded me of Chan -the little five-year-old that used to live next door- childishly. My father had such a child-like admiration for my mother. I always found it comical, and sometimes a little embarrassing with the things he’d do for her attention…even though they were already married. Yet my mother would always gasp in delight, smile, take the flower from him, and plant a panda lily of her own on dad’s lips. A kiss. She'd do this every year when he’d bring one home.

Yeah, my dad said let’s set the standards uncharacteristically high for the other people back in our town.

Of course, as I grew a little older, I finally understood the meaning behind panda lilies. It was a symbol of the love my dad held so deeply for my mom. I guess over time, even after they married, my father never lost his passion for her. To me that’s beautiful. 

Usually, the flowers are used to win the hearts of those we have affection for. A crush so to speak. So, it was like my dad used the flower’s tradition to tell my mom every year, “Hey, I loved you then, I love you now, and I still want your heart.” Did my mother know this? Yes. She was actually the one who told him about those flowers in the first place way before I was born. Did she play along with my dad’s antics? Of course, because she loved him just as much.

I wish I could go back to when times were simpler, brighter. I wish I could go back to when my mother would teach me about flowers and the other nations. I wish I could go back to when my father would tell me about the different elements of bending. I wish I could go back to before-

Knock

Knock

Knock

The sound of knuckles rapping on metal echoed around her quaint quarters as a curt voice jarred her from her thoughts.

“Servant girl, where’s the general’s tea? He’s already above deck waiting!”

Two hands scrambled to shove everything away under her mattress. The journal she used to write in, along with the ink and brush that she, borrowed, one night from a crewman’s room while everyone was above deck. With everything hidden, Lila scrambled up from the edge of her bed and rushed to the door with shaky hands. Tanned fingers strained as they jerked the heavy hunk of metal open and came face to face with none other than Lieutenant Jee, a senior officer on this ship. The tall man held nothing but a frown on his face as he looked down at her.

Lila thought back to her first few days aboard, she considered him to be middle-aged by the state of his graying hair. A good few feet taller than her. An accomplished military man he was…and an accomplished singer too. Though she doesn’t dare tell him the last part.

As the lieutenant stared her down, expression unreadable, Lila couldn’t help but curl in on herself. Her good eye staring up at him sheepishly as he huffed out an unimpressed sigh.

“General Iroh’s been waiting for ten minutes now. Hurry it up if you know what’s best for you.” It was meant as a warning, and Lila knew better than to take her time and make the General wait any longer.

Quickly sliding out of her room, the door shutting behind her with a loud slam, and into the dimly lit hallway the girl squeezed out a, “Yes, sir I’ll get to the tea right away”, and hoped her words sounded as firm as the lieutenants. Though the only indication she got was the quirk of an aged brow before he swiftly turned away to walk back up the stairs that led to the main deck. No doubt to tell the General that Lila was on her way with his tea. Once the lieutenant was out of view, Lila spun on her heels and borderline ran through the dingy halls to get to the kitchen. All the while praying her tardiness wouldn’t result in any form of punishment; even though she’s never been on the receiving end of one during her time on this ship.

As she rushed through the halls of the ship's lower deck Lila knew it wasn’t the lieutenant or any of the other crew members that intimidated her. It wasn’t even the General. If anything, General Iroh was the nicest one to her compared to the others here. No, it was the person in command of this ship who truly frightened her. She’s seen the intensity of his rage when directed at his men many times throughout his three-year search for the Avatar.

Although he wasn’t much older than her, he still carried himself in a way that you wouldn’t think of him as someone younger. In Lila’s eyes his mere presence was imposing and domineering enough that she thought he could pass as a Fire Nation General. Maybe even an Admiral. A force to be reckoned with. Although he was exiled, he didn’t look at all like a banished prince.

All Lila knew was that she didn’t want to start slipping up now. From what she experienced firsthand, the Fire Lord’s family and his military were truly terrifying. 

When her boots rounded the corner to the kitchen’s entryway a stifled gasp flew from her lips as crewmen, specifically the firebenders, ambled out of the mess hall. The majority of them shoving past her without a second thought, knocking her off balance, their heavy fire nation armor clanking as they passed. Swiftly but awkwardly Lila caught herself from falling. Her back bumping the wall as her hand latched onto the door frame. After the last helmeted soldier left, she righted herself and set off to brewing Iroh’s usual. Jasmine tea. Once she was in the kitchen, she gently set down a pot of water to boil as her good eye ringed with a dark circle glanced about the empty kitchen. 

Deeming the area fully empty, broken fingernails ghosted over the cloth covering her other eye. Memories from long ago, ones she didn’t want to remember forced their way to the forefront of her mind. 

Visions of fire.

Men in red uniforms.

A burning house invaded her thoughts. 

Until the image switched as she remembered the Palace Gardens along with a girl dressed in fire nation clothing and forehead tattoo. She was hurling bursts of flame after flame, cackling as a young Lila ran through the fire lily bushes screaming crying out-

“Stop it.”

The one-eyed girl whispered. Shaking her head, jagged fingernails toyed with the edge of the cloth. 

Just like that, like dunking someone in cold water, Lila resurfaced from her haunted daydreams once she heard the boiling water bubble and hiss for her attention. 

“Oh my goodness!”

With her seeing eye, Lila snatched the pot of water, grabbed a clean teapot from the dish rack and hastily prepared the rest of Iroh’s afternoon tea all in one motion. This was all routine for her, except today she was late. Now panicking, Lila arranged everything on a serving tray and scurried as fast as her legs would allow without spilling, or worse, dropping anything.

The sound of her baggy uniform pants rubbing together and her dark boots tapping against the metal floor could be heard as she raced through the torch lit corridors. Past her sleeping quarters, and up the main flight of stairs leading to the ship’s main deck.

“Oh spirits, I’m extremely late!” Lila anxiously cried to herself as she slinked up the last few steps, forcing her rushed pace to a normal walk. On this ship she always had to make sure she kept her composure around the others. A habit she developed from her service in the Fire Lord’s Palace.

When she came out into view on deck, the afternoon sun shined brightly over her features. If it were any other place besides the south pole Lila would’ve appreciated the sun’s warmth, but it wasn’t. The subzero temperature seemed to overpower the sun as the cold hugged her through her heavy servant garbs anyway. A slight shiver crawled up her body after a particularly strong gust of southern wind blew past.

With her head bowed Lila made her way toward Iroh and his pai sho table. The old man was seated in the middle of the deck observing both his game and the banished prince’s training. Peeking up to look a few feet past Iroh, Lila caught sight of prince Zuko and the men he trained with. Another shiver traveled down her spine. One of fear.

Judging by his lack of clothing and sweaty face, the prince seemed to have just finished his training session once she walked on deck. Prince Zuko grabbed a towel from his uncle and wiped down his face and chest. Without sparing anyone a second glance prince Zuko marched off toward the command tower, barely brushing Lila’s shoulder as he went. Memories of her tardy punishments given by her last master flashed by. However, when prince Zuko didn’t stop to question or berate her for her late appearance, Lila released a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

Once certain that prince Zuko was completely gone and she wasn’t in trouble, Lila continued walking and closed the distance between her and General Iroh. Once she reached the old man’s side, Lila bowed in respect, a few wispy curls tumbling from her bun as she kneeled beside him. As always, every day for the past three years, the chubby man welcomed her with a bright smile and boisterous laugh. Now Iroh was a pale portly man with long grey hair and bright amber eyes to complement. Even though they never properly talked, he was always kind in greeting whenever he saw her around.

“Ah! There you are, I wondered where you were. I was scared you got lost on the ship.”

Knowing that Iroh was joking, Lila cracked a carefully practiced smile as the old man joyfully laughed.

“No, no, I didn’t get lost. Though please accept my deepest apologies, I hope my tardiness didn’t upset you, sir.”

Professional and sweet her words were, but rehearsed in nature. Iroh could tell, but he watched with kind eyes anyway as the young girl placed his tea on the table with steady hands. He was pleased to see she didn’t tremble near him like she did with his nephew. Unbeknownst to the blinded girl, prince Zuko’s uncle always noticed her reactions when it came to the boy. He’s always wanted to know why she’d become so small and nervous every time Zuko was near; but he knew better than to out-right ask. 

The retired general quickly took a sip from the cup she placed before him, the wondrous taste of jasmine tea dancing along his taste buds. This girl knew how to make it just how he liked it!

“You know Lila, that is your name, right?” Iroh questioned casually. The young girl stiffened in response as she awaited his next words with bated breath, “after three year of being on this ship together, we have never really sat down and talked over a nice calming glass of your tea.”

Still kneeling, Lila released a breath in relief and couldn’t help but look at him with slight confusion but quickly remembered her place and schooled her expression into poised neutrality. She glanced down before murmuring, “Well, with all due respect sir. I’m a servant placed on this ship by my master. I didn’t think it was expected of me to dine and drink with you and your men.” 

Remaining quiet Iroh regarded her as he took another sip. To Lila, it seemed her answer didn’t satisfy him as he shook his head in disagreement. Afraid she spoke out of turn, Lila fidgeted slightly with the empty tray in her hands.

Remember your place.

Mentally shaking the voice from her head, she began to rise from her spot beside the general. Before she could fully stand, Iroh’s voice cut through.

“Of course, it’s expected of you. You are important to this ship, just like how prince Zuko and his men are important to each other. Every person on this ship has a purpose and a duty that benefits us all. Just as you have yours. But before you go, sit. Have some tea with me, you deserve a moments rest.”

Her eye, ladled with exhaustion, widened in surprise at his bold comparison between the prince, the crew, and herself. Especially prince Zuko. All she did was fulfill orders and make sure everything on this ship was clean. Lila was nowhere near as valuable as the Prince of the Fire Nation, banished or not. Years at the Caldera Palace has surely taught her where her place was, and it wasn’t on the pedestal of fire nation royalty.

Even with that reminder, it didn’t stop the dust of pink from tinging Lila’s ears while she adamantly refused his words, “Sir, you mustn’t say such things-”

The retired military general smiled, kindly interrupting the stuttering girl’s babbling, “Please, sit. I’d be graced by your kind presence if you’d give an old man like me some company on this lovely day.”

Seeing that Iroh wasn’t going to relent, Lila let out a small sigh and sat on her knees before him on the other side of the pai sho table. Back straight and hands polieltly placed on her lap. Over the rim of his teacup Iroh peeks at her and couldn’t help but feel pleased. Like a chink in a wall, a little part of her mask breaks without her even noticing.

Once fully situated across The Fire Lord’s brother, Lila couldn’t help but still feel incredibly small and vulnerable. Never in her life has she ever been requested to sit with someone of such high nobility before, as equals, even if they were banished. For a while, they sat in complete silence. An awkward one on Lila’s end and a serene one on Iroh’s. Lila watched as Iroh wordlessly played pai sho and sipped his tea. Crisp south pole air blew past every now and then, gently running through Lila’s dark curls like invisible fingers. Genuinely the girl was at a loss of words so she stayed quiet and waited until Iroh had something to say, chosing to watch the tall walls of glaciers slowly drift by. While Lila was distracted by her captivating surroundings, Iroh threw back the last of his tea like nothing and let out a loud long sigh of satisfaction.

“So,” He chirps, “Where are you from if you don’t mind me asking?”

Remember your place

“Well, I come from a small town near the Fire Nation Capital and served the Fire Lord and his family growing up,” Lila responded without missing a beat. Though she doesn’t miss Iroh’s unconvinced look as he cocks an eyebrow at her. Lifting the teapot, he pours himself a second cup.

“No offense, but if you’re going to lie, at least make it a little more believable. Not laughable…although some good lies are pretty funny…” he quips. An aged hand coming up to stroke his chin.

‘He caught my lie,’ defeat briefly colors her face and Lila wonders if it’s okay to take off her mask, even if it’s just for a moment. Can she trust him?

“General Iroh-”

“Just Iroh or uncle Iroh is fine, I’m retired. You don’t need to keep formalities when you’re with me,” the old man laughs as he pours a cup of tea for Lila. The warm assurance Iroh gives off disarms Lila, even if she didn’t want that to happen, allowing her to relax just a little more. Her mask slipping from her fingers.

“Okay…Just Iroh,” Lila teases.

It came out a bit awkwardly, but she peeked her eye up anyway to gauge his reaction at her failed attempt of a joke.

However, she’s pleasantly surprised when she sees the stale joke earns her a guffawing laugh and she had to fight off the beginnings of a grin that wanted to push past her lips, “why do you want to know?”

“Just curious, but since you asked,” passing Lila her cup Iroh playfully narrows his eyes, “you don’t look or sound like you’re from the Fire Nation capital. Don’t get me wrong you’re a very beautiful girl,” Iroh clarifies, “but your facial features are different from the people in the capital. You also have a slight accent. Not only that but Lila isn’t a name commonly used in the Fire Nation.”

As Iroh spoke, each sentence had Lila’s eye lower, all the way down to her cup on the table. This man figured her out in a matter of seconds! To Lila part of her felt embarrassed for thinking she could out-smart a military leader. Retired, but still. An experiensed military man no less. 

Though she knew he didn’t mean any harm by what he said. He claimed to just want her company, and she was trusting that he only wanted to get to know her. No one has done this with her before so this was new territory, and Iroh has never given her a reason to fear or distrust him before during these three years, so she decided why not? And let her mask hit the floor. She looks at Iroh and he catches her good eye soften.

Words roll around her head for a moment before speaking, “My mother was born in the Northern Water Tribe, but she left. In her travels she met my father who lived in a small town not too far from Omashu. They married a few years after meeting. My dad really helped her out when she had nothing and no one to help her.” Iroh’s lips curled up into such a wide and infectious smile at the girl’s words, and funnily enough Lila found herself mirroring him, too.

“Wow, that is wonderful! Two completely different people, from completely different parts of the world meet and fall in love. That’s rare,” Iroh gushed as he teasingly added, “On top of that they made such a soft and gentle spirit too!”

Giggles, that were actually quite loud, erupted from Lila as she flushed at this witty old man and his compliments. “How do you know I’m soft and gentle?” She asks, taking a large gulp of tea, the warm brew filling and puffing her cheeks. Slowly she guzzles it down, cheeks deflating, before adding, “I could be really mean in reality.”

Golden eyes worn with years of life crinkled in amusement at her newly surfacing playfulness, “I have been around for many years. You can tell when someone has a genuine spirit and when someone doesn’t. You, miss Lila,” said girl freezes at the respectful use of her name. No one’s ever used ‘miss,’ or her name, at all when talking to her, “have a very soft and sprightly spirit, when given the chance to bloom,” Iroh declares with satisfied finality. To show he was set on his opinion, Iroh sat with his eyes closed, blocking out any protest Lila might’ve had as he reverently drinks his tea and moves a pai sho tile.

‘Miss Lila’ in turn sits in stunned silence, her brow deeply lined with thought and her mouth agape. Genuinely she couldn’t see what he saw in her but didn’t have the heart to correct him. It’d be futile to argue against him and win. So instead, she shyly thanked him, and awkwardly filled her cheeks again with more tea to distract herself.

For the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening, as no one seemed to need Lila’s assistance, she got to know her first friend since little Chan from her village. They went back and forth talking about many things. Lila discovered that during his younger years Iroh learned and observed techniques from the waterbenders which in turn helped enhance his firebending. He regaled her with many stories of what he learned and how he learned it. A smile etched deep into Lila’s face as she tried to absorb everything he was saying. It was heart warning for Lila to see someone from another nation appreciate her mother’s culture. She also found out that he’s a decent tsungi hornist and can’t tell the difference between certain tea plants and the poisonous ones.

Iroh learned some things about Lila, too. He discovered that she had vast knowledge about plants and flowers from all over the world. Even the ones about tea! Thanks to a book about flowers her mother gifted her as a child. He also found out that under her pillow she keeps an earth kingdom bracelet her father made and can play the kalimba. They even taught each other songs native to their nations. Both of them found such wholesome companionship with each as other they kept this up every day for a few weeks during Iroh’s afternoon tea.

One day as the two friends sipped on a new tea Lila decided to try her hand in making, ginseng tea, Iroh decided it was time to discuss his nephew. However, the tea was too good for him to just leave it half finished. ‘I’ll begin once I finish this cup,’ he said to himself. So, they sat together in comfortable silence. In the background the rowdy voices of the ship’s crew could be heard, they too took a moment to relax from today’s work. Prince Zuko seemed to be on edge more so than usual so the men were taking in all the peace and quiet they could from their makeshift break.

Back to the main pair though, the clink of Iroh’s teacup being set on the table barely registered in Lila’s ears. She was currently taken by her surroundings as she watched a piece of ice fall from a passing glacier. A chilly breeze brushed and caressed her cheeks. Usually she’d shiver at the winds touch, but it seemed that over the past few weeks of Prince Zuko navigating these waters, the southern climate didn’t seem to bother her as much anymore. It was still cold though.

Feeling ready to talk Iroh clears his throat, “You know, I don’t really think you have much to be afraid of when it comes to my nephew Zuko.”

In an instant Lila’s revere for the beautifully cold landscape is broken as she meets Iroh’s steady gaze in surprise and discomfort. This was definitely a topic she wanted to avoid.

“I know Zuko is a very coarse person and rough around the edges, much like the rocks back home. But he really isn’t as bad as people make him out to be. Though he may be banished, he is still very honorable,” and for a moment Lila sits there taking in his words. She didn’t really know what to make of it. Her perception of the Prince vastly opposed Iroh’s. Although she understood why Iroh would say that about his nephew, he did seem to have a love the boy. Lila tries to muster the courage to say something but again she hears that voice,

Remember your place

Echoing in the back of her mind. After moments of her struggling to gather herself and Iroh waiting patiently, Lila stammers out, “Sir, I assure you I’m fine I do not fear-”

To which uncle Iroh chooses this moment to remind her, “Lila, you don’t need to be so formal with me, nor do you need to hide yourself. You know me. You can tell me how you really feel.”

Again, she hears that same phrase, remember you place, but louder this time attempting to drown her out. She tries to push back a little harder so the voice would go away, but to no avail. Lowering her eye in submission, specks of brown glinting in the sun’s rays, Lila quietly chokes out, “I shouldn’t say anything at all negative…concerning the Fire Lord or his children. Whether they are banished or not,” the rehearsed tone Iroh heard when he first spoke to her returned. The man could clearly see the internal struggle warring within her. The deep line crinkling between her brows, the downturned tilt of her lips, to the flicking of her eye as she couldn’t look at him dead on. It was like he was watching a two headed viper fight itself.

Choosing to divert his attention to his game he allows Lila the time she needs to fight the thoughts that overshadowed her. Once he noticed she’s calmed down a little he quips, “But, I’m not the Fire Lord nor am I the Fire Lord’s child.”

“I know,” Lila squirms a little and averts her gaze to her hands, “but you are the brother of fire lord Ozai and the uncle of prince Zuko. It would be rude of me to say anything negative about anyone from that family…and I don’t want to get in trouble with prince Zuko.”

Taking in the sight of his friend, her fingers fidgeting softly, Iroh gently counters, “I just want to know how such a soft and gentle soul like yours, has become so scared and broken.”

For a while, Lila sits in hesitant contemplation. Many times, and many ways Lila has only tasted pain and hurt her entire life. One of her eyes has complete loss of vision for goodness sake! No one ever bothers to give a passing glace to those seen as lesser than themselves. To peasants like her. No one cares for little servant girls…but Iroh does. Iroh, out of every person she’s ever met in the fire nation, has been the first and only one who’s truly treated her like she’s worth more. Worth more than a servant. Iroh always treated her like a human and a friend. In his eyes, she is a friend. Iroh is, someone she can trust…regardless of his bloodline. With that, her mind was made up. Like a baby bird spreading its wings to jump, Lila opens her mouth to speak – but closes it and freezes once she spots prince Zuko emerge from his quarters. The usual fire nation uniform adoring his body.

Red uniforms.

Just like that, the flower that Iroh saw trying to bloom, closed in on itself once more.

Saddened by the state of his friend, amber eyes close as Iroh shakes his head. Looking at his last pai sho tile he places down the fire symbol. ‘How ironic’, Iroh thought.

Finished with his game Iroh looks toward his nephew, a wide goofy smile now replacing the disheartened look before.

“Hello nephew, nice of you to join us on this lovely day! The sun is out, a nice breeze is blowing. Miss Lila here has even made a new delicious tea for me to try today, you should have some.”

Unphased by Iroh’s excited suggestion, prince Zuko maintains a cold and silent expression. As he makes his way next to his uncle his sharp gaze cuts through everyone on deck. Immediately his crewmates stop what they were doing as Zuko examines each person, silence being the loudest noise on the ship. Once his glare shifts to Lila for a moment her eye darts away, avoiding eye contact.

Prince Zuko then begins barking orders at the crewmen who were idling about. “Lieutenant Jee, care to tell me why all of my men are not where they’re supposed to be?”

Sensing the rapidly brewing eruption that was about to explode, Lila cautiously rose from the little table she and Iroh occupied. Yeah, she fully intended to creep away from the banished prince’s tirade and busy herself with work, until she felt a calloused but tender hand hold hers. Her eye shot to Iroh as he encouragingly motioned for her to sit back down, “If my nephew really needed something from you or felt like you weren’t doing your job right, he would’ve said so already. You’re okay, either way you don’t need to do anything until dinner time…which is in another hour.” He stated smugly. After those weeks of getting to know one another Iroh memorized her schedule like the back in his hand. Lila knew Iroh again wasn’t going to let her win this round, again, so she slowly sat down.

Once prince Zuko was done ordering -well more like yelling- at his men to get back to work he looked at his uncle, completely ignoring Lila, and rigidly mentioned, “If you need me uncle, I’ll be in my room meditating.”

“Good, good! Practice your breathing, it’ll help you with your control.”

Judging by the upturned eyes and smile Iroh gives his nephew, completely disregarding his attitude, Lila could tell he held a deep love for the prince. For her, she didn’t hold any of that. Prince Zuko was part of fire lord Ozai’s family. She just didn’t understand.

Then just before he turned away prince Zuko’s piercing gaze finally caught Lila’s as if finally realizing she was there.

“You. Servant girl”, his voice was hard as stone. His inflection unwavering and clipped, while hers was wavering and small.

“Yes?”

With prince Zuko’s attention fully on her, Lila’s brown eye flitted between his intense stare and her hands. The discomfort of being trapped under his gaze grew too much for Lila as she squirmed and tried to keep the fear from taking hold. He only acknowledged her presence, that’s it. ‘I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong today’, she rambles to herself, prattling off anything she might’ve done for him to call her name in such a way.

Cutting through her mental check list, terse words, “Get. To. Work,” are spat from between the prince’s teeth. His scarred face now inches away from her. Up close Lila could vividly see his raised skin, burnt red and irritated, marring the left side of his pale face. The disfigurement of the scar left his eye squinted in comparison to the other eye. Thoug she had to admit, the eybrow that wasn’t burnt off was perfectly arched. Within his amber gaze, Lila could see the anger that always seemed to linger there. However, she knew better than to test his already thinning patience.

With a breathless, “Yes sir,” Lila clambers to her feet, collects Iroh’s tea set as fast as she could and rushes away from the two. Heart pounding within her chest. Faintly, she could hear Iroh complain to prince Zuko about how he didn’t need to scare off his friend and how he should’ve tried the tea she made. To which Zuko yelled, “I don’t care! She doesn’t get special treatment just because she made you tea!” That, she heard loud and clear.

Lila powers through the corridors below deck and even though it’s an hour early she decided that she might as well help the chef prepare dinner since she did all her work earlier. This time as she rounds the corner, teacups clanking with every footfall, she smoothly side steps any shipmates that may be bustling out of the kitchen. ‘Don’t want a repeat of before,’ she notes to herself.

Upon entering the kitchen, she sees the chef and he raises his knife in greeting before continuing with the meat cutting. Last week prince Zuko docked at a nearby harbor to restock on any necessities the crew might’ve been running low on. Specifically, hygienic items and food supplies. “Servant girl!” the chef calls, keeping his eyes on the task at hand, “You’re just in time. I need you to start on the rice.”

Offering a timid smile, which he didn’t notice, Lila carefully placed the tea set in the sink, rolls up her sleeves and stands beside him to start on the rice. Like clockwork they quickly but efficiently finish dinner for everyone on the ship, with Lila scooping the last bit of rice into bowls to deliver to the prince and his uncle. Soon enough the rest of the men file in for dinner. Lila attempts to give one last smile to the chef, which again falls on blind eyes, before tiptoeing out of the now lively kitchen and right into lieutenant Jee.

“Lieutenant Jee!” Lila gasps in startlement, “I’m so sorry I didn’t see you there!” She bows as best as she could while balancing the two trays of food. Jee waves it off with his hand, “You’re fine, just be careful next time.”

As he starts to make the line for dinner Lila haltingly calls his attention once more, “Um, mister, Lieutenant Jee, sir…” he hums. “Just to be sure, do you know if the prince and his uncle are in their rooms? I don’t want to be late again, especially with prince Zuko.”

“Yeah, last I checked that’s where they were.” Jee dissmisively responds before laughing with the other men at a joke the chef said. Lila’s presence completely ignored.

Laced with a hint of despondency, Lila whispers, “Thank you,” and continues her trek up from the lower decks, up onto the main deck, and to the command tower. All the while balancing the two hefty dinner trays. The tower was where those in charge slept. Reaching her first stop, Lila found herself in front of prince Zuko’s room. She began to feel her hands shake and quickly but carefully placed Iroh’s dinner tray down by the door. No way did she want to drop anything in front of her leader’s door and really risk getting punished for the first time. Reigning in her nerves Lila breathes out deeply and knocks.

No words of entry could be heard.

Trying her luck, she knocked harder one more time but still received no answer. Usually on any other day he’d call for her to enter and she’d place his food on his table, but this is the first time he hasn’t responded. Which leaves Lila at a crossroad. She wasn’t really sure what to do, she didn’t want to leave his food outside, but she didn’t want to just barge into his room. His privacy. And anger him. Then again, standing in front of his door doing nothing wasn’t going to solve anything either.

“I guess we won’t know until we try,” she sighs wearily.

The door squeaks as she apprehensively opens it and cautiously peeks her head in. The room is in its usual state, clean and very minimal. No elaborate decorations, just a few fire nation banners on the wall, a mattress in the corner of the room, a weapons rack, and a rug. The only time Lila would go in the prince’s room was when she’d do her daily cleaning rounds and food deliveries, like now. Then, her eye catches sight of him with his back facing her. Candles sit in front of him on the table, the flames rising and falling with every breath she hears him take.

“Prince Zuko?” Lila slips a foot past the door as she shakily squeaks, “I have brought you your supper, do you want me to place it where I usually-” a loud huff escapes prince Zuko’s mouth, flames shooting up in tandem sharply.

“If you wish I could come back later with-”

“You really seem to have forgotten your manners, haven’t you? I’m meditating.” Prince Zuko drawls, irritation filling his voice as he maintains his meditative position. Lila stares at his back in puzzlement, she didn’t mean any disrespect to her prince, she was only doing what she thought was right in this situation.

Even though Lila knew prince Zuko couldn’t see her she still bowed her head in apology, rushing out, “Please forgive me my prince. You didn’t answer when I knocked, a-and I didn’t want to leave you without food-”

Like a bomb, prince Zuko’s aggravation toward her initial interruption and her rambling explodes, “I don’t care as to why you felt the need to come in my room unannounced! You see I’m in the middle of something, and just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean you can start talking like I gave you permission to, when I didn’t! I’m not my uncle. You’re a servant, remember your place!”

Lila stands in stunned silence at Zuko’s verbal barrage, she was doing so well with her streak of staying on his blind side. Although she knows his words are nothing compared to what he’s said and done to his other men, tears still flood and gloss over her eye. Violent scenes she repressed played through her mind as clear as day. Mocking her.

Remember your place

Remember your place

Remember you place

Tears of pain and anguish flow down her burning cheek. The intensity of the man’s punch could still be felt as she cradles the side of her face. Sobs heave from the little girls mouth as she watches the flames engulf her home. When suddenly a large hand yanks a fistful of her hair. A shrill scream ripping through her busted lips as he drags her closer to the carnage he and his men waged. All dressed in red uniforms. She could hear her parents yelling her name from somewhere afar, and she tries to tear away from his grasp to find their voices. Though the vice like grip in her hair harshly jerks her head back, causing the girl to whimper in pain.

“Ah! Mommy, daddy! Where are you?” She can’t see them, but she could hear them fighting in the background. The sound of the other men in red wrestling with her parents could be heard too and it amps up the fear seizing her heart.

Tiny nails dig into the hand on her head, scratching and hitting the with all her might to escape. Though her attempts failed as she is aggressively thrown in front of the burning house, the heat of the flames licking for a taste of the child. Suddenly a blood curdling wail, that could be heard all around her terrorized village, shreds from her raw throat as searing pain erupts all throughout and within her eye. Vision becoming an all-consuming black.

The words, “Remember your place, you little brat!” Are roared in her face.

Finally, the tears silently bubble over her cheeks like a stream of water. Stifling any noise, Lila bites her lip and bows deeply, even though prince Zuko barely gives a sideway glance over his shoulder.

“I am, so, sorry my prince,” she chokes out hoping to the heavens above that he wouldn’t punish her or hear the strain in her words. She can’t be crying like a fool in front of her leaders, that’s not what she was taught. Serving was what she was there for, nothing else. Her master before made sure she knew that. Swallowing all the sobs she could without a sound, Lila carefully places his food by the door and quickly leaves shutting it with a soft click. All the while a slight frown could be seen on Prince Zuko’s lips. He caught sight of the tears falling from her eye.

Outside Lila takes a few deep breaths and leans against the door, the muscles in her lips twitch as she tries to stop the upcoming torrent of tears; but the dam breaks. Smothering her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt, her other quivering hand covers her face. Lila starts bawling. Muffled sobs and gasps wrack her body as her eye squeezes in grief, hot tears spilling even faster. Now it wasn’t necessarily Zuko’s words that made her react like this, even if they were hurtful. It was what he inadvertently triggered. Memories too painful that she didn’t want but was forced to keep. After a few minutes of her trying to keep her mourning silent, she hears a door creak up ahead at the end of the corridor. With hitched breaths Lila drops her snot and spit stained arm as the hand covering her face quickly retrieves Iroh’s forgotten dinner tray. It was a little cold, but nothing a firebender couldn’t handle. Lila sniffles and schools her features back into a poised appearance and continues to her last stop. A trail of quiet tears streaming in her wake.

Upon reaching Iroh’s room, Lila wipes off any evidence of her crying and knocks on the door. This time around Lila hears a tired, but nice beckon to enter. Opening the door, she sees Iroh sitting on his bed and he beams at the food Lila has in her hands, until he sees her face. As quickly it appeared his smile is gone as he takes in her damp sleeve, tear stained cheeks, runny nose, and wet eyelashes. Iroh had an idea of what might’ve happened.

“Sometimes, life can be like a hurricane. It’s harsh and unforgiving at first, but they always end and the sun shines after. No matter how bleak the storm looks.”

At that, Lila breaks down again. Crying all the while, she fully enters the room and places her friend’s food on his bedside table before rushing to hug him. As she engulfs him, Iroh gently rocks her from side to side, rubbing her back. The motion reminds Lila of her father when he’d rock her to sleep, her arms tightening around Iroh. She missed her dad deeply. Softly her old friend began to sing one of the songs he taught her a few weeks ago.

“Winter spring, summer, and fall. Winter spring, summer and fall. Four seasons four loves, four seasons four loves.”

Although his voice wasn’t perfect, it still pulls Lila to join in, sniffling. Iroh’s voice strong and comforting, while Lila’s was weak and quiet. They sing it a few times until Iroh sees her tears and hiccups slow.

Feeling slightly better, Lila breaks from the hug and sits a few feet from Iroh.

“Thank you. I really needed that,” she croaks and rubs at her teary eye. The patch on her other eye was pretty damp so she knew before bed she’d have to clean it.

“Of course. As your best friend it is my duty to make sure you’re okay and laughing.” To which Lila giggles.

“How about this?” Iroh offers, “I tell you more about what I learned from waterbenders and you teach me more about the flowers you know?” Lila tiredly nods in response; her crying drained all her energy for the day. The two friends share dinner at Iroh’s behest, saying how she shouldn’t skip her meals, and chatted for a few hours. They talked about flowers, tea, and history -mostly Iroh teaching her what he knew- until Iroh noticed how exhausted Lila was and urged her to get some rest.

The next day was like any other day for Lila. In the morning she’d wake up at dawn, do her shower routine, clean her teeth, and tend to her eye. After that she’d set off to make breakfast with the chef for all of the shipmates. Deliver breakfast to Iroh and prince Zuko, and luckily for her today the prince wasn’t in his room. She only found a note that said he wasn’t hungry. Then once all the men were at their usual posts Lila would go ahead and tidy up all their sleeping barracks. By the time she’d be done with cleaning everyone’s rooms she’d have an hour or so to herself, which was filled with journaling or writing all Iroh has told her about waterbending, until she had to help prepare lunch. After she’d finish that, there’d be a fifteen minute window of nothing to do before Lila would make Iroh’s afternoon tea. Which was what she was doing right now.

Again, like before, Lila make her way from the kitchen, through the corridors, past her room, and up the stairs to get to the main deck. However, instead of sitting across from Iroh Lila places herself next to him as he greets her with a joke. Thankfully he doesn’t mention what happened last night as they laughed and talked as they usually do. Today Lila was trying to explain the differences between the white jade bush and the white dragon bush to Iroh. The white jade bush being a poisonous flowering plant. During her explanation, Lila couldn’t help but notice Iroh somewhat dazed off, and she snorted as she thought, ‘I really hope this doesn’t bite him in the butt’ when a question flickered in her. Checking her surroundings to see where prince Zuko was, she saw him a good few feet away facing the front of this ship. The scarred boy looked to be distracted with his own thoughts, so Lila figured it be now or forever hold her peace.

“Hey, uncle Iroh?”

“Hm”, he grunts, liquid gold eyes ever so focused on today’s particularly tricky game of pai sho.

Lila’s already soft-spoken voice lowered to a whisper, “Why did you agree to go with prince-”

Unexpectedly, from far away, a huge ethereal beam of light shoots up into the air, cutting through the sky! The beam cast a blue shadow over everyone and everything in the south pole, blue ripples rippling across the sky. Lila literally falls back in wonder from what she’s witnessing at this moment. No one on prince Zuko’s ship has ever seen anything like this during their three year search. When she looks to see if anyone else is seeing what she’s seeing her eye catches the banished prince’s reaction. Prince Zuko himself is also snapped from his own thoughts by the sight of this strange but amazing light. His jaw dropping in awe, but realization dawns as his features shift to one of aggressive determination.

“Finally,” he growls. Turning to Lila’s companion, who’s surprisingly unphased by what just happened, prince Zuko continues, “Uncle, do you know what this means?” His words seemed to be filled with something akin to…dare Lila say, hope? Desperation?

While keeping his eyes on his pai sho table Iroh asks, “I won’t get to finish my game? And Miss Lila won’t finish telling me about the…what was it called again?” Being in such close proximity to the prince after what happened last night, Lila wasn’t sure if she wanted to answer with him so near.

However, Prince Zuko answers for Lila declaring that the beam of light means his search for the Avatar it about to end. Though not sharing the same optimistic thought as his nephew, Iroh shakes his head and places down another pai sho tile. Still unwilling to relent, Zuko points to the shinning beam and snaps,

“That light came from an incredibly powerful source! It has to be him!” Looking back, he sees the light disappear, causing the blue shadowing that was cast over everything to disappear as well.

“Or, it’s just the celestial lights,” Uncle Iroh suggests, lifting his arm to the sky with a tile in hand to further prove his point. “We’ve been down this road before, Prince Zuko. I don’t want you to get too excited over nothing.” The absent-minded tone is apparent in Iroh’s voice although he means well. He’s just looking out for his nephew. For Lila, well she had a whole cauldron of mixed feelings. If that light really was from the Avatar then they could all finally go home. She should be happy, right? Three years of searching finally over. Except, she has no home, all that’s there waiting for her in the fire nation is a cold and malevolent palace. Nothing good was waiting for her there.

Again, Lila is pulled from her thoughts by Iroh, “please, sit. Why don’t you enjoy a cup of calming Jasmine tea Lila so kindly brewed?”

Like an awkward, and slightly uncomfortable middleman, Lila’s honeyed eye worriedly gauges Prince Zuko’s increasingly riled posture. Her eye slowly shutting to a cringe; she could tell the prince was about to explode from the continuous dismissal of his claims.

She was correct.

Prince Zuko barks in exasperation, “I don’t need any calming tea! I need to capture the avatar!”

As he ordered the helmsman to set a course for the light, Lila withdrew back to her thoughts. In a small way, she kind of understood why he was being so snappy. Though his attitude was usually foul. Still, he’s trying to go home after three years of banishment. Everyone on this ship wants to go home. Even if she had no place to call home, Lila could empathize in a way with why he’s so rude, and somewhat desperate, when speaking to his uncle the way he does. The Avatar is his ticket home.

Suddenly the wind picked up, whipping the dark hairs that fell from Lila’s bun. Turning to Iroh as he puts down his last pai sho piece, an air nomad symbol, Lila can’t help but blurt, “What does this mean?” Her words uneasy as she watches Iroh imploringly. Brown eye dancing over his form.

Iroh turns to her and gives a meaningful smile before laughing out, “It means our days of tea and pai sho together are coming to an end.” Lila looks on in confusion, “It’s almost time for you to help with dinner. Go, and make sure you bring some roasted duck for me tonight!” He jokes.

Later that night Lila finds herself repeating the same delivery process as before, rushing up the main deck and to the command tower. However, when she goes to knock on Iroh’s door she sees him coming from around the corner, “Oh uncle there you are. Where were you?”

“I was just coming down from the observation deck trying to tell Zuko he needs rest. Of course, my brooding nephew wouldn’t listen.” Iroh sighs dramatically as he walks to his door. However, all Lila can think about is the discomfort she feels with the possibility of being alone with prince Zuko again…and the stairs she has to climb to reach him.

“B-but, that’s a lot of stairs though…”

“Ha! How do you think I feel? An old man like me shouldn’t have to do workouts like that anymore!”

Iroh smiles when Lila giggle in response. Opening his door, he turns to his friend and gently takes his dinner tray bidding her goodnight. Left alone Lila continues her walk to find prince Zuko. “Up the stairs I go…”

By the time she reaches the observation deck she’s winded and breathing a little deeper. Her heart felt like a drum about to beat out of her chest, she did climb like four flights of stairs. Leaning against the opening of the door to the observation deck, she sees prince Zuko there with a simple night robe draped over his sleeping attire. He stood alert and focus despite it being dusk. Unlike him everyone else was getting ready to retire for the night. A little hesitant to address her presence in fear of repeating what happened last night, Lila waits for the scarred prince’s permission to let her speak. A few minutes pass and a breeze flows by, stray pieces of curls tickle Lila’s neck as the prince still stands in silence.

“Pardon my intrusion prince Zuko, but it’s dinner time and I have your food ready for you…”

Looking over his shoulder at her for a moment he simply rasps out in a gruff voice, “I’m not hungry…” before continuing to watch the darkening horizon.

“But, you haven’t eaten anything today, are you sure?” Regardless of the fear prince Zuko strikes in her heart, he’s still human and needs to eat.

Again, like yesterday an aggravated and abrupt huff leaves his mouth as he deeply drawls, “What, did I just say?”

Wanting to avoid another outburst tonight Lila timidly stammers, “You’re not hungry…” as the feeling of embarrassment from being talked to like a child washes over her.

“You may leave my presence.”

Lila turns and was about to head back down to the kitchen before a thought struck her. Quickly but silently she takes the bowl of rice and the bowl of roasted duck meat and pours half of it onto the serving tray, before leaving it near the doorway. That way if prince Zuko changes his mind the food will be there. Satisfied with herself, Lila walks down to the now empty kitchen, grabs a pair of eating utensils, and eats what was left in the bowls. “Well I’m not letting the food I made, which I know is good, go to waste,” and the food really was good too.

Once she was done eating, Lila washes the tray and grabs a cup filling it to the brim with water. Double checking the empty kitchen Lila carefully makes her way to her servants quarters. She takes gradual and slow steps in order to keep the water from spilling over.

In the safety of her room, Lila closes the door with her foot and nimble fingers lock it behind her. She sets the cup down in the middle of her room and goes to get the journal she’s been writing in from underneath her mattress. Lila pulls out the journal and returns to where she placed her cup. Sitting down with her legs crossed, she flips to the pages filled with information she wrote from the times Iroh would tell her about waterbending. Lila takes in a deep breath, holds it as if she were underwater, then slowly exhales through her mouth. Closing her eye, her hand reaches up and unwraps the cloth covering the other side of her face.

The cloth falls in Lila’s lap as her hand hovers over the cup of water, beginning to practice her waterbending. Although as she tries lifting the water from the cup Lila feels no connection to the energy inside of her. Her control is weak and shaky as the water spills over. Shutting both eyes Lila tries to concentrate harder, but all she can see are the memories from her past burned deep within her mind. 

Fire

Screams

Laughing

Fingers

Eye tattoo

With a shuddering breath Lila drops her hand and sighs in disappointment.

Remember your place.

The next morning Lila is on the main deck with Iroh, Prince Zuko, and some of his men. At Iroh’s invitation Lila watches as the prince does his firebending training, though she didn’t know as to why he wanted her there. The young servant had a very deep fear of fire, every blast of fire prince Zuko or his firebending companions made, memories of that little girl in red would flash by. Screams of her younger self and cackling of the little girl ring through her ears. So, Lila stood by the railing of the ship a few feet behind Iroh, not too close to prince Zuko and his fire but not too far in case they needed anything. With her eye on the ground Lila watched in fascination of the elongated shadows the morning sun created around her, until she heard Iroh begin to lecture prince Zuko on his firebending.

“No. Power and firebending comes from the breath, not the muscles,” Iroh clarifies. It’s clear there’s a tinge of stress in his words as Zuko failed to truly grasp what his uncle was trying to say.

“The breath becomes energy in the body,” Iroh continues and begins to demonstrate each point of his explanation, “the energy extends past your limbs and becomes fire!”

Lila gasps at Iroh’s last demonstration. A strong but controlled and precise stream of fire shoots from Iroh’s fist at prince Zuko who stood unflinching. The fire dissipated inches from the prince’s face. At the sound of the small noise Lila made, Zuko’s eyes flicker to hers for a quick second before settling back on Iroh. She could see how the prince’s muscular shoulders began to tense as he walked menacingly toward his uncle, so she tuned out the impending argument and turned to look over the ship's railing. The morning rays glistened over the water lapping at the ship below, creating a lovely twinkle. The shimmering water looked like diamonds to Lila as she mulled over the words Iroh tried explaining to his nephew.

Vaguely she could hear him call his nephew impatient in the background, but Lila’s mind was still committing what uncle Iroh said to memory, “patience,” she softly whispered to no one in particular.

Power comes from the breath…not the muscle.

Lila glanced behind her and saw that prince Zuko was still arguing with his uncle as some of the firebenders looked on. Zeroing in on the sea water once more, she suddenly felt a small beckoning from below…

Breath becomes energy in the body

With her hand extending over the railing, her heartrate picked up and her body tingled with nerves when she realized she’s really going to try this in front of firebenders. The ones who once tried to wipe out her people…but the push and pull of the water was too enticing, its seductive call too strong to ignore…

With a flick of the wrist-

The energy extends past your limbs and becomes-

Water! 

Water shoots out in the form of a wave away from the side of the boat. In no way was it a large or impressive wave, it was actually very small. However, it was enough to make Lila laugh and light up in elation. A huge smile decorating her lips. A smile she hid behind her hands. However, when she tried to recreate what she did, nothing happened, the feeling…the connection, was gone. Her smile dissolved and fell, the light in her face dimming as she turned back to the men on deck.

Her honey colored eye widened in surprise at seeing both Iroh and Prince Zuko’s golden gazes pinned on her.

“…Um, hello.” Lila shyly breathed with a small wave of her hand. A twinge of fear twisted in her heart at the off chance of her getting caught waterbending.

“I was just telling my nephew how even you have more discipline and patience, and you’re not even a bender,” Iroh says bellowing a loud laugh. The imaginary weight on Lila’s chest disappeared as she awkwardly forces out a laugh too -in relief- before catching the sneer on prince Zuko’s lips. His hands closing into a fist, Lila was sure he probably didn’t like that comparison.

“I mean, but sir I’m just a servant it doesn’t matter what I have or don’t have,” Lila responds as she lowers her gaze. Iroh opened his mouth to object but the young servant girl beat him to it, “anyway, if you are in no need of assistance,” she casts a look between both Prince Zuko and Iroh, “I must go help with lunch. If you’ll excuse me.” Demurely Lila bows her head and turns to go.

With Prince Zuko was back to sparing with the other firebenders, Iroh took the chance to call out, “Wait.” 

Lila turns and regards him curiously as he begins to pour a cup of water, “Here, have this before you go. You might need it if you get thirsty.” He carefully hands her the tin cup. It looked like it was about to overflow. Lila looks at him questioningly but all he gives her is a knowing smile that she couldn’t quite place.

Later, after she finished helping the chef with lunch, Lila made her way back to her room, the cup still in her hands. She only took one sip from it today, either way she was going to meet with Iroh for afternoon tea soon, so she didn’t think much about it. Once inside she sat at the edge of her mattress and placed the cup on the floor in front of her. Resting her elbows on her knees, she folds her hands and places them over her lips as she stares at the water. A thought struck her, debating whether or not she should try bending again.

“I shouldn’t, I can’t even properly control it!” Lila hissed to herself.

Until Iroh’s words about breath and energy filtered through the back of her mind. Then another image appeared. The image of prince Zuko meditating with the candles in his room a few nights ago. Releasing a sigh Lila gave in and sat on the floor in a crisscrossed position, straightening her back like how she saw prince Zuko do it. Like the night before, she untied the cloth covering her face and closed her eyes. The palms of her hands braced on her knees. Deep breath in, she inhaled, and a deep breath out, she exhaled. Slowly a sense of calm and peace crept over her. Concentrating on her breath and the energy inside that she couldn’t really feel yet. Lila repeated the technique over and over, and even though she didn’t see it, with every breath she took the water rippled.

*

Thank you for reading, let me know what you think in the comments. I hope you enjoyed it.

[timextoxhajima]

Christmas & Me

Member: Younghyun (Youngk)

Genre: tutor au cause why the fk not ft a plot twist ion know 

Word Count: 4.3k

Usually it wouldn’t be this hard. 

Writing. 

If anything, it should be the easiest thing for you. 

The grip of the pen rubs annoyingly against your skin between your thumb and index finger, all the words in your head but it’s as if they had a mind of their own and refused to come out on paper. The heavying rain outside starts to slap against the window you were facing, jolting you out of your frustration for a few seconds. 

You can barely see the buildings across the road now, the rain so thick, it looks like a cloud passing through the city. Sighing, you rest your left cheek against the back of your fingers, fingers in your right hand fiddling with the pen mindlessly. It feels like your vocabulary is suddenly limited, rendering all the awards on your shelves useless and meaningless. 

What was the point of earning all those awards when I can’t do anything now?

At a loss of ideas and inspiration, you drop the pen to the notebook and close it, turning off the table lamp and dumping yourself on the two-seater sofa. The photo frame on the glass table between your feet and the small television offering you a pathetic reflection of yourself. 

The walk to school the next day was rather peaceful - only because being an international student granted you that privilege. Well, unless--

“GOOD MORNING!” Jamie is loud the way she is when she throws her arm over your shoulders, visibly putting in some effort into it because you were easily a forehead’s length taller than her. It could get draining sometimes, how she’s so enthusiastic about things, but she’s an endearing person to be with, so you’ve learnt to put up with it. 

“Hey,” Pulling out your earphones, she studies your gloomy expression. “How was your weekend?”

Jamie frowns, blinking out of slight confusion. “How was my weekend? How was your trip to pain city?”

 A grimaced smile graces over your lips for a few seconds, disappointed with your lack in ability to keep your feelings off your face. “That obvious, huh?”

She pulls her arm off you when she deems it too tiring to keep up. “It might have been only two months since we’ve met but believe me, I can read you like a book.”

A pause as the both of you step into the college compounds, a huge crowd of students already frolicking about in the front garden or entering the faculty buildings. 

“So, what’s keeping you awake at night?”

Hesitance collects your thoughts. 

“Oh no, again?” Sympathy paints her face like the sunlight that’s beginning to seep through the clouds and onto the hallways of school. “Honey, I know it’s none of my business but this isn’t good for you in the long run. You need like... like a turning point of some sorts, I don’t know. Something to kick-start your engines again.”

Her attempt at a solution finally ignites a little flame of mischief in you. “Like what?” You cock a brow and scoff, entering the lecture hall alongside her. 

“Like... a boy.”

“A boy?” You are unable to stifle the loud snort that runs through your nose, earning the embarrassing attention of some other students. “Sorry.”

“You heard me right. That’s exactly what you need. You need to fall in love or get your heart broken and then maybe it’ll set you off.”

“I was expecting you to say something more along the lines of a ‘tutor’.”

“The Hell d’you need a tutor for?” She thwacks your arm. “Have you seen the things you write? My dumbass couldn’t write that shit out even if I was old and had a billion stories to tell.”

“Well, like you said. Just something to get me started, that’s all. Someone to talk me through the process again, probably offer me new ideas, new perspectives.”

Your friend goes silent at your explanation - it was a better idea than getting yourself involved with a boy. When she’s quiet for a prolonged amount of time though, you nudge her with your elbow and she looks at you through the corners of her eyes. 

“Do you want me to apologise for suggesting a boy?”

Pursing your lips to hide away the little snicker you have under your breath, you nod childishly. 

“Ugh, fine. I’m sorry I suggested getting your heart broken,” She pulls out her laptop and places it on the lecture table. “But if you’re looking for a tutor or something to shit-talk writing ideas with, I actually might have just the person for you.”

A pause.

“Of course, only if you’re interested.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Her cat eyes dart to you again, now coveted in playfulness. “Cause issa boy.”

“On God--” With that, you groan and give her arm a light punch. 

Jamie: Contact: Kang Younghyun

Jamie: he’s a friend from work

You: you work?

Jamie: what’s that supposed to mean

Jamie: frickin ingrate

The first time you meet Kang Younghyun was in a Starbucks outlet down the street from college. Jamie had plans after school so she wouldn’t be able to sit in the ‘shit-talk’ session with you, but she assures you that he was a nice guy, albeit sometimes too nice for his own good. 

You had your notebook and pencil case laid out in front of you, with a cup of hot white chocolate mocha sitting at the edge of the table. You’ve only seen Younghyun from his profile picture when you contacted him, so you’d think he’s not difficult to recognise.

And yet when he first walks into the café, it still takes you sometime to register that this was your ‘shit-talk’ tutor. You watch him scan the length of the cafe, missing you the first time because you felt too awkward to raise your hand like you were in class. 

But he catches you the second time, probably noticing how hard you were staring at him and hoping he could receive your telepathic signal. His hair was black and parted down the middle, with a pair of glasses with gold rims that made it look more like decor on his face than actual glasses.

“Hi, pleasure to meet you,” With his palm extended out, you are forced to stand against his tall build. 

“Likewise,” Taking his hand in yours, the anxiety fills your stomach when the moment feels a little too long for comfort. 

“Jamie’s talked to me about you, I hope you don’t mind.”

He grabs a seat and places his laptop case on the table. He’s wearing a honey-brown shirt with a baby-blue blazer, guilt-tripping you into feeling like you’ve underdressed. 

Why did I think it was a good idea to come in a lame cardigan and jeans?

You don’t realise how long you’ve spent inside your head that it’s quiet outside. 

“So,” He breaks the silence first, pulling out a notebook instead of a laptop. In fact, you don’t even think he had a laptop with him. “I assume you need some ideas or inspiration for an assignment?”

“Um,” You look down at your empty notebook, the jagged ridges of the spine showing the dozens of pages that you’ve ripped out and thrown into a corner of your apartment. “Not so much of an assignment, actually. I just... it’s my outlet. But I can’t spend my time spewing out all my feelings onto paper, can I?”

Younghyun’s surprise is easily read from his eyes widening when he looks up from his own notebook and at you. “And... and you’re paying me for that? To vent your feelings?”

I’ve said too much.

“I need that for myself, so... I’m just trying to get back on track. That’s all.”

“Oh, no, my apologies,” He shakes his hands, apologetic. “I didn’t mean to sound like I’m judging you or anything, it’s just... not many people would pay just for... well, whatever you just said.”

You bite down on your bottom lip, opting to reach for your beverage to hide the shame that was slowly brewing in your lungs. Younghyun blinks at his own notebook, worried that he’s offended you. 

“It’s alright, since you sound like you just need inspiration or an outlet to talk to, I’ll be just that.”

You place the mug down and watch him keep his notebook away, leaning back into his seat and crossing his legs with his hands over his stomach. “I’ll start.”

Younghyun gets comfortable in his seat and rests his head atop the sofa seat, eyes glued to the ceiling with the lights reflecting off his glasses. He talks about music. The way the instrument vibrates in his hands when he strums the strings and the way the ground vibrates when the bass is connected to the bass amplifier. 

He doesn’t look at you once, but that’s how you know he’s speaking from his heart. There was no need to write any of this down; seeing someone talk about what he loved without reading off a script was enough to tell you how much he’d hate life if he didn’t have it.

The same way you’d feel if you don’t get your writing gears back in check. 

The weekly ‘tutor’ sessions stretch out into a month, then months before Younghyun is talking to you about his family, though you’ve gone round in circles talking about nothing but writing and reading. You were concerned if he was getting bored that you stuck to the same topic for months whilst he was literally talking about everything under the sun -- but he had a way with keeping you entertained, even if you were not. 

“y/n.”

Sucking in a deep breath at the call of your name, you find yourself being shoved out of a trance - a trance of staring at him straight in his face. The blood rushes to your cheeks faster than you can react to his sneaky smile, the nerves in your body steering you to grab your mug of white chocolate mocha to hide half your face. 

“Was there something on my face? Snow in my hair?” He whips out his phone and turns on the front camera. 

“No, no, there was just--” He keeps his phone and looks at you. “Something in your eyebrow--”

If you could cringe anymore from your own lame excuse, you would’ve just disintegrated into a million atoms and vanish. 

“Oh, really?” He pulls out his phone again, but it frustrates you because he’s just going to look like an idiot trying to pick something out that’s not there. But he takes you by surprise when he turns to you, face already leaning forwards with his glasses being pulled from his face. “Care to give me a hand here?”

A gulp finds your throat and the sweat starts to form in your palms. Usually in winter, you’d be freezing to death. But Younghyun right here wasn’t making it comfortable, he was making you feel warm and anxious to the bone. 

Carefully, your hand reaches out and then he’s staring at you in your eyes. He hears you clear your throat because he flinches, watching your attention zoom in on his left eyebrow. Pretence was a game you aren’t accustomed to playing, but you make it through by gently brushing his brow and flicking your fingers in some other direction.

“Is it gone?”

He’s so close, you can feel his breath on your chin. 

There was such a fleeting glimmer in his eyes, that had you blinked, you would’ve missed it. Is that what you really saw? Wander?

Nah--

“Did you get it?” 

“Oh-- yeah, sure.”

Younghyun retreats, gently fixing his glasses. His laptop was before him now, doing his own work while working with you. Little did he know that he’s had so much effect on your ideas that you’ve stopped writing all together-- why?

Because you just know you’d be writing about him all the damn time. 

“By the way, I just wanted to ask you about something--”

Ring

Your phone steals both your attention as it vibrates across the surface of the table, and Younghyun gestures for you to take it. 

“Sorry,” You stand and pick it up, flipping it over and gritting your teeth when you see the caller ID. “You know this is my tuition timing, couldn’t you have called?”

“I would’ve but I couldn’t resist getting this information to you asap-- there’s this gig next weekend and I think you’ll love it.”

You turn around and look into the café, watching Younghyun’s back work on his laptop. A girl walks past, unable to resist a second glance at him. He doesn’t notice the more-than-innocent look in her face when they make eye contact, and he merely nods the look away as a form of acknowledgement. 

“What time is it?”

“Yeah... that’s the problem. It’s during your tuition so... I guess you’re gonna have to pass up on that session next week.”

“What?” You say a little too loudly. Younghyun actually hears you from inside the cafe and turns around in his seat, cuing you to quickly turn away and face the road. “I’m not skipping tuition for a gig.”

“Aw come on, that’s bullshit. You don’t even need him to write well! Have you even been writing since he started tutoring you?”

“Sometimes I wish I wasn’t such an easy book to read.”

“Great. It’s Christmas eve then anyway, why’d you want to meet your tutor? Tell him you have something next Saturday and I’ll come pick you up from your apartment at 7.”

“Wait, Jamie--”

Beep

Younghyun’s eyes are brimming with anticipation as you sit down, not a regular sight - you don’t remember a time he’s looked at you like this. 

“It was Jamie. She, uh-- We’re going out next weekend, told me to tell you that I’ll take a raincheck on next week’s session.”

“Oh,” He looks down at his hands. You can’t decipher if he’s disappointed or upset that you don’t know your priorities. But he hides it all too well with that gentle smile of his, and he waves it off. “It’s okay. You should take the weekend off. Besides, it’s not like you have any homework you owe me.”

That eyebrow raise should be illegal.

By the time next Sunday arrives, you were already beginning to regret your decision to let Jamie decide your schedule. You were giving up a chance to meet your tutor, who knows nothing but passion and love and writing and music -- for a gig you don’t even know the guest performers?

Jamie forces you into something more than a T-shirt and jeans, throwing you into a dress and a leather jacket over, making you look more like a high school student than a college one. 

But Jamie’s excitement is much more overwhelming when you reach the Lotus Garden, and to your surprise, the ambience wasn’t all too bad. The lights were amber, giving the place a warmer hue. The crowd looked much friendlier than the ones you’d expect in a club, and the food served were... actual food. Not just alcohol and buffalo wings. 

The stage was set up with different instruments and so when the lights dimmed down, the crowd was already offering low hoots and--

“What the fuck?!” 

Jamie’s loud yell is drowned out with the sudden burst of claps and hoots when the band comes on stage, and all you can focus on is the familiar stranger with the bass in his hands. 

“Is that--”

“The Hell’s Younghyun doin’ here?!” She’s got that confused-angry look going on in her eyes, and it humors you for a few seconds before you look back on stage. 

This time, he doesn’t need a second chance to find you in the crowd. 

There was still huge smile he had on his face that you could only wish was for you, and yet everything else on him was too difficult to divert your focus away from. Black hair slicked to the side; an all-black fit. 

“I brought you here to get you away from him but he’s here...?!” She gasps loudly. The band has started playing but she obviously doesn’t care. “DID YOU KNOW HE WAS PLAYING AT THIS GIG--”

“What?! No!” 

“You liar--”

“I didn’t know, I swear to God--”

“He’s staring at you like he wants to eat you-- My God!”

“No, I promise I didn’t know that he-- wait, he what?”

Jamie exasperatedly turns your shoulders to face the stage, and all you could see was Younghyun staring at you like he was singing the lyrics to you. 

“난 그냥 너랑”

“같이 있는 게 좋아”

“나도 참 답이 없다 야”

Jamie’s probably screaming now -- no wait, she is -- because she’s losing her mind over the lyrical confession.

But how can you pay her your attention, when it feels like it’s just the two of you in the room?

The ten songs pass by in a flash, never once getting tired of staring back at him with Jamie screaming in your ear every now and then to make sure you were sane. 

The band thanks the crowd, the screaming from the girls nearly drowning out their umpteenth ‘thanks’ into the microphone. So much for a calm crowd.

Jamie pulls you aside to save you from the mobbing that she probably already knows the band attracts, but Younghyun jumps off the stage instead of following his bandmates backstage, earning loud gasps from the crowd. 

He pushes his way through the bodies that were just obstacles to him, heading straight for you and Jamie. 

The sweat is sticking his fringe to his forehead, and he was slightly breathless from the performance adrenaline. He’s always been talking about music and lyrics but he’s never once talked about performing. 

“Jamie!” He opens his arms to her. 

“I know I’m not the one you want to hug, Brian.”

“Who’s Brian? Come on, get in here!” He forcefully wraps his arm around her and ruffles her hair with a closed fist, earning a punch to his stomach.

“Hey--” You pull Jamie back, showing the slightest disapproval of her violence. However Jamie doesn’t spare a second before she grabs you by your arm and replaces her initial position with you, throwing you into his chest awkwardly.

“Man, if I knew it was your band, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

Crossing her arms, she rolls her eyes away from your even-more awkward distancing. Then she gasps again, this time covering her mouth as she directly points to his nose.

“This was what you were worried about! You were scared that she’d reject your--”

“Ah--” He grabs Jamie and covers her mouth. “We agreed that you wouldn’t tell her, right?”

“Tell me what?”

You watch both friends dart their eyes to you, one filled with absolute mischief but the other’s ears looked redder than fire under the warm tone of the room. 

Younghyun struggles to keep Jamie in his arms when she tries to break free, but he simply offers a service smile, nodding towards the stage. “Stay close, I’ll get you backstage.”

Jamie’s eyes are half-hooded with how unbothered she is, the security guard to the backstage door letting the two of you in once Younghyun informs him that you’re special guests. Once in the dressing room, Jamie shakes herself free of Younghyun, dashing to the other band members and happily throwing her arms around them. 

Your hands are shy behind your back, unable to keep up with her excitement. You weren’t sure why he thought it would ease you, because it doesn’t --

Younghyun snakes his hand behind your back and interlocks your outer hand with his, giving you a tight squeeze while keeping it in place so that none of the other people in the room could see his little ministration. 

“This is y/n, she’s the college student I’ve been tutoring over the weekend.”

“Yeah, right. ‘Tutoring’.” Jamie has her arm perched atop the tallest member’s shoulder, who was already halfway down a squat to let her reach that height. 

“I’ll bolt first,” He announces. Then the tug on your hand before he releases feels like a signal. “Come on.”

You take a second glance at Jamie as he grabs his bass guitar and bag and hugs his band members. 

‘Use protection’ she mouths. 

Before you can send a slap across the room, Younghyun gently rests his palm on your shoulder. “I’ll send you home, let’s go.”

And just as you leave the dressing room, you can see Jamie offering you the dirtiest, most scandalous eyebrow raise ever. 

Younghyun holds the back door of the café for you as you exit, the winter air turning your warm breaths into little clouds of vapor with every exhale. 

He’s used to your inability to strike up a useful conversation, and you could tell he was anxious about you finally seeing him in this light. 

“So, how was it? The performance?”

You turn to him, only to see his gaze burning right through you. Thank God it’s late, if not he would’ve seen right through the abrupt change in color of your cheeks. 

“It was good,” You turn and nod to yourself, hoping he’d see it. “You never told me you perform.”

“Oh, well... It’s not often anyway,” Then you feel a material wrap around your neck. The scarf smells nothing but him, it’s dangerously intoxicating. 

“Thank you,” You can feel the awkwardness setting in again. “So, what was it that you were afraid I’d reject you for?”

For the first time in four months, he goes quiet. Nothing but the sound of your shoes crunching over the snow and the cars that zip past the road. 

He scratches his brow and fails to meet your eyes, his attention glued to his shoes instead. A small smile dominates your lips. 

“It’s alright if you don’t want to tell me though, I respect your privacy.”

“It’s not that!” He quickly defends. “I just... I actually... wanted to ask you out, invite you to this gig as a performer’s guest. But then Jamie called you,” He rubs the back of his head. “We just didn’t expect it to be the same event.”

Inside your coat pockets, your hands are sweating. Under your dress, your heart is almost on the verge of being thrown up through your mouth. When was the last time I felt so nervous?

The silence in the walk gradually shifted from being awkward to mere peace, though Jamie’s screaming had already been recorded somewhere in your head. Your hand was already out in the open, for the sole reason it couldn’t stand anymore sweating in your pocket. Luckily, the winter wind was so dry, it aired your palms easily. 

Younghyun is a brave person though, when he slots his fingers between yours. Confidently taking your hand in his, he cannot hide the smile that emerges on his face - and frankly, neither can you. 

When you reach your apartment, it’s natural to invite guests in (right?), and Younghyun takes the invitation hesitantly, releasing your hand only for you to get the door open. 

He’s looking around the single-bedroom apartment, a gorgeous view of the city right outside the window that your desk faced. The kitchen calls for you, your instincts telling you to get him a cup of warm tea as you leave him to wander around your apartment. 

But he’s staring at the framed photo on the glass table at the sofa when you come out of the kitchen with his tea, and his eyes travel up from the photo to you with such care and concern, it makes you want to assume he’s already pitying you. 

“It’s a cute picture--”

“It’s okay to ask. If you’re curious.” 

The ceramic mug clinks onto the glass table.

Younghyun sets his guitar down and places his bag against the side of the two-seater sofa. 

“I’m not going to ask if you’re uncomfortable.”

A small flashback to when you first met him. The way he so comfortably laid back in his seat and talked about playing the bass; how it felt. 

“My mother was a children’s book author, and my dad read them to me every night because she was so busy writing them. But I could always see myself in her stories. The little girl who was so innocent, she let herself get bullied in school. The kitten that was afraid of thunder and lightning. The lone flower in a field of roses, but still gets picked out because it was a rare flower.”

A pause. You see nothing but the ceiling and hear nothing but his breathing next to you. 

“After my dad passed away, my mother lost her memory to Alzheimer’s. I was studying Literature, hoping to become a poet when she was admitted to the care center. Then I found out her will left me everything she had in her possession, telling me to take my studies overseas and do what I want to do.”

You turn your head on the back of the sofa seat, worried that he’d be put off by the sad story that suddenly came up. There was that glimmer in his eyes again, then he purses his lips before leaning forward. 

Your head is already tilted to the side, so he doesn’t shift himself much to cup your cheek in his hand, lips gentle against yours. Your eyes flutter shut upon the contact, feeling his warm pool around your cheek from his palm. 

So gentle, it feels like feathers.

Younghyun pulls away, breath light on your philtrum when he presses his forehead against yours. Your eyes meet too close for comfort, and yet it feels like you’ve known him for too long. 

“I admire your courage to be doing what you want to do. So, I hope you’ll let me help you get back whatever inspiration you need to write again.”

Your fingers are trembling when they attempt to stroke his cheekbone. 

“You don’t need to worry about that, you are my inspiration.”

[cauldronoflove]

“Do you want to talk about it?” + msr 🥺

A lilac duvet and navy blue pillowcases, a plot of bronze lamplight. Scully laid her jacket out over them both, itself petal-crushed violet. Her shoes crawled under the bed one by one, and her phone clattered on the nightstand--in the dark room of her mind prints hung out to dry of squat hotel room nightstands of yore, black-and-red light on cedar and ash; spruce and pine and fir.

Tucking one leg underneath herself, she eased onto the edge of the bed. The springs coughed up phlegm and final breaths, pinched her shins in crustaceous retaliation suited for the sand still collected in the soles of her shoes. She batted at the quilt uselessly with the tips of her fingers as if to press the springs back in line, and succeeded only in advancing the timeline on her next tetanus shot. Her arms already pricked with phantom needles.

From the nightstand--catalogued as B-1D-4, for the material and the drawers and the commonality--she retrieved her phone to tuck to her ear.

"Two FBI agents walk into a restaurant," she started as soon as the line clicked.

"Oh, I've heard this one."

"Really? I was thinking about going into prognostication, but in that case you beat me to it."

"Give yourself some credit; in mine it was one agent and he was already standing outside his partner's room with dinner."

She smiled with half her face, the corner of her mouth raising overhead hands in righteous awe. There truly were no bounds to Mulder's whims, nor to the pleasant surprise that she still felt, even now at six months in the field with him under her belt.

She looked to the door, thinking of each grain that separated her from him, cutting his outline in life-size. She'd have left him out there if she wasn't so damn hungry.

"One FBI agent opens the door for another," she amended, pacing across the room on legs pulled taught from her earlier sprint. Her stockings slid unfortunately over the coarse carpet, making her toes curl.

On the other side, his hair was still wet from the shower, a water drop sliding down past his ear and steadily marking for the worn collar of his t-shirt of which he had a jacket tossed off-set over. He raised a greasy bag of something god-sent with a sheepish smile. Oil and fat and salt pollinated the air, leaving her off-kilter at how deep her hunger ran.

"Can I come in?"

"Depends."

He showed his other hand, carefully cradling two drinks--white plastic with a purple cuff that made the carbonation burn all the way up into your nose. One stretched his palm to full width and the other chapped the soft skin on the inside of his elbow, each showing dark cola through the foggy lid.

Her mouth curled up silently at the other end, an apple peeled in one long strip and scattered for divining on the floor. She pushed out of the way to let him through.

Before she could get too far away he put a burger wrapped in slippery-thin paper blotted in grease marks between her hands. It was lopsided, leaking processed cheese slice and juices from browned onion, but it was a welcome sight. She could barely get it undone through her shaking hands. Hunger overtakes--and it takes and it takes and it takes.

He kept to his side of the room, propping up in the squat chair shoved under the window like a fire hazard. He had his burger, had the bag rolled up at his feet and the drinks on the table between the chair and the door. First was the main course, then the entree. She scarfed down half of hers before he ever even got his up to his chin for inspection.

They worked through their burgers in meantime, chewing quietly to accommodate the volume and length of thought balling up their brows. When it was done, she crumpled the already wrinkled wrapper and tossed it underhanded to him, where it bounced harmlessly off his stomach and rolled right off his lap and between his splayed legs. He batted it between his boots, a fast-food, fast-tracked game of Pong that petered out once he had a wrapper to add to the mix.

Scully eyed the rest of the food with intent, waiting, childishly, for Mulder to realize what she was doing and remedy it. Instead, he pulled the bag up and sat it on his thigh where it tilted toward the door like a man on the run.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asked quietly, teeth and lips and stubble on his chin all separate parts she couldn't piece together. Her eyes ached, trying to make Monet into Renoir.

Her eyes ached, because she had a concussion. His face, every long line and press of skin, snapped into focus, and she took a seat on the edge of the bed to rid herself of his earnestness.

"No, I want my fries."

He was good at bartering with her already, understood that she didn't take well to flat out denial, but if he tried he could get her to give a little slack on the line. His offer then, paddle to the air and blazing black number, was to carefully roll the sides of the bag down so as not to rip and drop it between them when he sat on the bed too.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see golden-crisp fries obscured only by fat ketchup packets ready to be torn between her teeth. She could see, too, him making himself comfortable, shoving a drink toward her so her could clasp his hands over his middle.

The ice was melted a little, just the way she liked it. She framed her teeth around it and sipped through the impossibly thin straw, each bit of syrup and chipped ice rejuvenating down to her blood.

He never repeated the question, and she didn't offer an answer. Jaw set, eyes tracing the push and pull in the carpet, she reached for a handful of fries. She ate them all, one by one; every fleck of salt and sash of tomato, down past the core and then deeper. Until the pounding eased in her head and her stomach felt like it was on this side of alive.

"Better?" he asked, his tight smile smug and his eyes searching her profile for confirmation.

She thought about leaning back across the end of the bed and focusing on the ceiling, turning the white ridges in stars and the lumpy mattress into a ship's deck. The nausea would be the waves lapping against starboard and she would be somewhere else instead of in her burning coat of shame. But that, something in her grated, would be inappropriate with him still propped against the headboard, looking at her from underneath hair flat on his forehead and eyelashes still damp from rain.

"Thank you for dinner," she said instead, which answered his question quite nicely.

"Okay, one last party trick, but then I'm out." From the inside pocket of his jacket he pulled an oblong cardboard box that was cinnamon and consolation made. He tossed it over and even through the packaging it burned her fingers, but it was perfectly intact. On the side was scribbled peach in hard black letters.

She shot him a look, quickly head on, before prying it open, already scrabbling at the flaky crust and rushing steam with a smile. It was only in the second before she bit down that she thought to offer him some, but he shook her off.

"I'm more of an apple pie man myself."

[mimssides]

Life on Crow Avenue: Part 17

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___

Remus checked himself out in the mirror. Lime t-shirt with the motive of a red rose being stabbed with an intricately carved knife. Black washed-out jeans. His favourite khaki jacket with the anarchist patch he sewed on it, next to it the Mexican flag. His worn-out converse with the rainbow laces and the black beanie with the white stars stitched on it.

With a sigh he turned away from the mirror and joined Roman in the kitchen. He was in his usual casual weekend wear; grey sweatshirt, light-blue jeans and red sneakers. The jeans were one of Remus’s most hated pieces in Roman’s wardrobe. It was an ill-fit for Roman’s body type, too big and the colour was just terrible. He had more than once tried to kidnap and then destroy the hideous abomination which called itself jeans. To his chagrin Roman had always caught him before and stopped his attempts at pant assassination.

Yet right now Remus did not worry about the jeans. He exchanged a look with his brother and they simultaneously let out a sigh.

“We’re doing this?” Remus made sure, as Roman grabbed the keys for the delivery van.

Roman shrugged and opened their door stopping for Remus to follow him.

“Apparently we are. Virgil was very insistent on going to buy furniture with us. He even did not open the store for his emergency service, so we kinda have to. Right?” Roman answered sounding rather unsure but walking down the stairs with his brother anyway.

This time Remus just shrugged as they left the building and walked onto the sidewalk. He wasn’t sure what the correct protocol in their situation was and he just hoped everything would turn out to be alright. And before either twin could muse any longer, they were spotted by Patton and Logan, who had been dragged along by Virgil to join the whole let-us-buy-furniture-for-the-twins operation. Both seemed to be in a rather good mood and greeted them, while waiting for Janus and Virgil to show up.

After five minutes the two joined them and the six men split up with Remus, Logan, Janus and Patton in Patton’s car while Virgil would go with Roman in the twins’ delivery van. Like that both groups had someone in the car who knew where the place was where they would go and buy furniture.

With them all split up they set off to the thrift store which belonged to a friend of one of Janus’s brothers.

“So, which one of your famed uncles has recommended this place we’re going to?” Roman asked Virgil as soon as they had hit the road.

“Mars. He’s not my favourite but he knows a lot of people and I’ve actually been there before,” Virgil answered as he typed the street name of their destination into his phone.

Roman hummed and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

“I thought you knew the way?”

“I do!” Virgil said defensively. “It’s just- Rather safe than sorry, am I right?”

Roman chuckled and looked over to the younger man with a smirk when they halted at a stop sign.

“No need to fright, Virgey. I’m messing with you,” Roman told Virgil with a wink and watched him pout before he continued driving.

After a few minutes Roman began to ask what he had bought at “Bottom Drawer” before and what kind of stuff they offered. Virgil told him that they were focused on second hand furniture but also sold some new stuff, which they had been able to buy cheaply from bigger stores because pieces were slightly defect or they just hadn’t been able to sell it in time. Roman listened closely and Virgil didn’t notice how he started to talk about first moving into the flat with Janus, when they had opened Zookeepers two years ago.

Roman was a little surprised by Virgil’s openness. He had assumed that Virgil was rather reserved and generally only seemed to talk more when Janus was around. It was what he had gathered from the meals and the few Friday nights he had spent with others but around Roman alone the younger man opened up quite a bit. Roman was grateful for it even though he didn’t quite understand. While Patton, Logan and Janus were great people, and he liked all of them a good bit, Virgil was a little different from them. He had something that Roman had missed, a quality he had hoped to find in his friends again for a long while. He was not quite sure yet what it was but he was not in a rush and kept contently listening to Virgil talking about the shenanigans with his uncle and sometimes telling him in which direction to turn.

After an hour and a half, they had reached their destination and the six men found themselves in front of an older-looking storage hall. Janus took the lead after stretching his back for a bit and led them into the “Bottom Drawer”.

“So, we are looking for two bedframes, a couch, a coffee/side table, a dining table and matching chairs as well as decorative accessories. Is that correct so far?” Logan said while looking on the notes on his phone after they entered.

Roman shot Remus a look and the older twin shrugged with a grin: “He was trapped in the backseat with me. So, he started making conversation after the front seat people got annoyed with me commenting what I saw outside.”

“It wasn’t annoying!” Patton protested as Janus visibly rolled his eyes.

“Just- a little distracting in the way you did it,” the tattoo artist added sheepishly.

Roman pressed his lips together to keep a grin from spreading and glanced to Remus who looked exceptionally proud of himself. Quickly Roman shook his head and confirmed Logan’s list. They decided to first go for the bedframes and started with their search for a bedroom section.

The hall was quite big and there were a few people walking around and looking through the aisles. From almost vintage looking chairs, over to weirdly modern looking lamps they seemed to have everything. There wasn’t really an obvious system behind the setup and it was comfortably disorganized with leaving the customers enough space to walk by the furniture and knickknacks on the shelves.

After a few minutes of searching and then debating if they should ask a someone who worked there where to look for bedroom furniture, Virgil caught a glimpse of a bunk bed and the group made its way to the bedframes. As they wandered around Janus pointed a few bedframes out to Roman and eventually both of them stopping in front of a simple frame out of redwood. Roman checked the measurements of the frame as to see if his mattress at home would fit, when he heard an excited yelp from behind.

Confounded both he and Janus turned and saw Remus quickly jumping on the spot before he actually jumped over the edge of a bed to get across it. With furrowed brows Roman watched his brother for a second until he spotted the traitorous object of Remus’s interest and let out an annoyed groan.

“What is going on?” Virgil asked with slight panic creeping into his voice, while Roman walked past the others and followed his brother.

Roman shook his hands over his head and said without looking back: “Noting! Nothing but stupid neon orange!”

That confused Virgil so much that he forgot his panic and just blankly stared at Roman’s back until he finally lifted his gaze and saw what he was walking towards. And that was indeed neon orange.

Very loud neon orange.

Baffled Virgil and now also the rest of the group stared and Remus hopping onto a neon orange bedframe, smiling widely and enthusiastically as Roman approached. Quickly the others got out of their shock and followed the younger twin.

“Really? It has to be this one? This hideous orange?” Roman asked in an irritated tone.

Triumphantly Remus lifted his chin and wiggled his eyebrows.

“We both know the answer and I’m winning.”

Dramatically Roman shook his hand over his head and turned around with a look of lost faith in the gods above. The sheer dramatics of this display led Virgil to snicker and Roman shot him an annoyed look before he announced he’d go and look for a side table. Remus just snickered and got up from the bed, checking for the price tag and the number on the thing, so they would find it later when they would go and buy all of it.

The group rummaged a little longer in the bedroom section, both brothers having found a side table and Roman also a little desk and matching chair for his room. They then went on to the dining and living room stuff. It was there where Roman suddenly let out a happy sound and hurried up to a rather big round table made of walnut. The foot in the middle was round and had a little rose pattern carved in the bottom. Fascinated Roman touched the tabletop and joyfully realized that it was extendable.

“I need to see how big this one gets,” Roman mumbled under his breath and perked up looking around for someone who worked there.

“Seriously? Don’t you think that’s enough table for us? Like it already fits 8 people at least!” Remus said while Roman waved somebody over.

Roman just shot him a look and said: “You get a neon orange bedframe and I get to have a table for huge get togethers. Also, we have the space and I let you choose the chairs.”

Remus rolled his eyes, as the retail worker came over and helped Roman figure out how to extend the table. Childishly happy Roman shook his hands for a moment and then turned to Remus to check if they could afford all of what they had seen so far. After a shockingly short moment Remus had added up all the prices in his head and confirmed that they still could look for chairs.

“And a couch,” Janus pointed out when both brothers already turned to look for some chairs.

They shot Janus a look, exchanged a short glance and promptly walked over to where they had seen a few couches standing around. Not thirty seconds passed when they both steered towards a dark grey three-seater and plumped down on it simultaneously.

“This one,” they agreed in unison and got back up to look for chairs.

Baffled from the sudden agreement of the twins the others exchanged a few startled looks before they followed them again for the search for chairs. Luckily, they were rather at deciding on a few rather simplistic looking white chairs and then went to the next retail worker to help them get all the pieces they needed. The young woman who they had approached seemed a little surprised at first when they told her what they all wanted to buy but quickly got hang of herself and got a trolley and they collected most pieces but the bedframes and the table. For Roman’s bedframe and the table they got a separate bigger trolley and as for the neon orange bedframe; they still had models of it in storage, so they could get a boxed one and put it together at home.

The whole ordeal took quite a while and somehow Roman managed to recruit another worker of the ‘Bottom Drawer’, as well as two guys who had been browsing through the store to help them carrying everything to the van after paying. With a flashing smile he thanked them and told Janus almost within the same breath: “Can you take one of the chairs? Or can’t you do that?”

Confused Janus blinked and said: “I could take one but isn’t it more efficient if someone would carry several chairs? I do not see how me taking one would contribute to the whole thing.”

“Bah, bah, bah! Just take one, so you have something to do as well. Otherwise you’d just stand around and like that you’ll have contributed to all of this. Now, take the chair and stop arguing with me. This was your idea as well and you’re going to help!”

A laughing Remus walked by Janus’s side and the man with the bowler hat huffed and pouted picking up one of the white chairs. Soon after they had everything packed up and drove back home again.

___

It was pushing 6 pm and the old furniture of the twins was standing on the sidewalk, the new one upstairs and Roman was kneeling on the living room floor beginning to assemble the most orange piece of furniture the twins had ever possessed. Originally, Patton had offered him some help but after watching him looking at the Allen key with dread in his eyes, Roman took it upon himself. Well, Remus had helped him unpack at first but got distracted when Logan had asked him about their flower encyclopaedia and abandoned his brother in favour to talk with the nerd. Roman didn’t really mind, especially not when he watched Patton join them and ask if he had also one with flower meanings since flowers were a quite popular motive with his clients lately.

No, Roman was happy with Janus commenting on him reading the instructions and making small piles of all the different screws, chubs, nuts and chubs that had come with it.

“Stop being so cocky, Janny,” Roman said with a smirk and pushed his hair back out of his face. “At least I know how to read an instruction and put together a bed frame. I would be far more embarrassed if I couldn’t do that despite being the one initiating this whole operation.”

Janus let out an appalled gasped and Roman laughed heartily. Meanwhile Virgil sat down next to Roman looking at the little instruction booklet and the piles Roman had made. He wanted to help. After all, this had been his idea and even though he did not know how to assemble a bedframe and was quite honestly a little scared of it, he wanted to try and help.

“Uhm, so,” Virgil mumbled with a testing glance at Roman, “where do you start? I never, uh, did this before?”

Roman laughed a bit and told him to scoot over to his side so he could see the booklet from the right side. With a gentle jab then and there Roman explained Virgil what to do, while also bickering with Janus when the latter made a snide comment. Slowly, but steadily they put the thing together and when it was around seven and it looked like they were almost about finished, Roman sat back for a moment and stretched his back.

Roman was tired. He was clammy and hungry from all the work they did. He was also a little worn out from the chatter, the people, the interacting and directing all these people as much as he had done today. And he hadn’t felt so much at peace since –

He didn’t remember anymore and exhaled lengthily with a dopey smile.

“You eat cheese?”

Virgil almost dropped the screw driver when Roman asked him that and turned to him in confusion.

“Yeah? I’m vegetarian not vegan,” he answered and observed Roman grin a little.

“That’s great. Rem?”

Remus sitting at the new table with Patton and Logan, turned on his seat and quirked his eyebrow up in anticipation.

“I assembled this monstrosity which will be your bed, so could you make mac and cheese? Otherwise, I’m going to faint soon,” Roman whined.

A grin curled up around Remus’s lips and he got up, made a dramatic bow and answered: “As you wish, príncipe!”

Remus disappeared in the kitchen and Roman told Patton, Logan and Janus to come help him and Virgil hold the last part and then carrying it into his brother’s room. There was some swearing and complaining (latter mostly from Janus’s front) but eventually they got everything in place and they all felt satisfaction wash over them. It was done.

“I’m done soon! Change your shirt Ro! I don’t wanna eat next to a stinky prince!” Remus shouted from the kitchen.

With a huff Roman walked out of his brother’s room, already beginning to pull his sweater over his head. A bit scandalized Janus watched the warm beige skin which was suddenly exposed and felt something drop within him, as the made out the lighter markings of a burn just above his hip and a few light cuts above it.

But he did not get to linger too long on the look of Roman’s exposed back, as he soon disappeared in his room and shouted to his brother annoyedly: “I’m sorry that I worked so hard on your stupid bed! I better half-ass my job the next time!”

“Stop being a diva!” Remus shot back from the kitchen and the two brothers bantered for a while.

Amused the four other man walked back into the living room. Patton went to help Remus with the cutlery and plates, which he should bring over to the tv, while Janus sat down on the edge of the couch. Logan joined him and Virgil said he’d step out for a second to make a call home. Irritated Janus looked after him but did not comment on it. Roman waked into the room soon after, now wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants. With a grin he planted himself next to Janus and then asked him if he was less concerned sitting on this couch than on their old one.

“I do. In fact, I am very positive that it will not give me a deadly disease like the last one very certainly would have,” Janus answered.

Roman snorted and laid his head against the back lean watching Janus unmistakeably fondly. He was so exhausted and happy. Everything was a little blurry but in a good way. He could be quiet and not listen for a bit. He saw Virgil coming back inside, taking a seat on the beanbag next to the couch and how Janus talked to him. He saw how Logan turned to see Remus and Patton come into the living room, bringing them all their plates and food. He ate his mac and cheese happily, just as the others did and gave the plate back to Remus and Patton when they all had finished. He noticed the tv being turned on in the background, and that there was some kind of movie running, when his eyes fell shut and he dozed off.

He was holding something. It was warm. It smelled nice. It had the potential to become home.

He felt a flick on his knee and opened his eyes. For a moment the buzz was still there and then it was clear. He let go of Janus’s arm and apologized despite not feeling very sorry and got up from the couch with a stretch.

“Sorry guys, ‘m beat. Thanks for today, I’m gonna test my bed now,” Roman said nudging Janus’s shoulder and then walking towards the bathroom to brush his teeth before going to bed.

In his tired state he had not noticed Janus utterly flushed face nor Remus’s snickering or Virgil’s shyly hopeful grin. He just knew that he wanted to lie down in his bed for the first time in a few years and sleep in the next day.

___

@varthandi

@sickeningly-deceitful

@sammy-is-obsessed / @exhaustedfander

@unoriginalgayboyalex

@alexisrealgay

@softie-sushi

@wolfs-feder

@just-a-neoclassical-painting

@winter-jay-official

@a-ghostlight-for-roman

Tagged for this fic:

@frawkeye

@arodynamic-enby

@espepspes

@bullet-tothefeels

@fukindork

@shadeofadye

@magic-but-its-green

@croftersjam15

[aro-throughyourchest]

LIES

Chapter 5

WORD COUNT: 1,168

WARNINGS: None

INSINCERE AU

Varian’s too tired to deal with Hugo

.

First Chapter - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Hugo pushed open the door to see Varian glaring at him. Varian had changed into a new set of clothes, but Hugo, unfortunately, did not have a spare set, so he got stuck with drying manually, leaving his clothes rather wrinkly.

He laid down on the room’s second bed and huffed. He looked at Varian and scowled. Varian looked back at him and groaned.

“Ugh, how long do you think this rain’s gonna last? The faster I can get away from you, the better.”

Hugo scoffed.

“I could say the same... I don’t wanna room with the guy who SLAMMED MY HEAD IN WITH A BAG!”

Varian sighed exasperatedly before defending himself for the second time. “The middle of the night in the woods is VERY tense. Someone shouldn’t be talking to himself in the middle OF the woods where strangers can come up and hit them with bags.”

Hugo narrowed his eyes at Varian, and Varian stuck his tongue out childishly. He just walked 2 and a half miles at 1 in the morning with a huge storm outside and this moron. Let’s just say he’s a little cranky.

“Still, a sorry would be nice for my troubles!”

Varian sighed and shrugged. “Alright... I’m sorry.”

He could’ve been a little more polite about it but, again, cranky. Besides, he already hated Hugo enough, forcing himself to be polite would make his contempt worse.

Hugo folded his arms and rolled his eyes dismissively, leaving Varian a little more annoyed.

“Not the best apology, but I’ll take it.”

Varian grumbled, and Hugo waved his hand in the air. “You should be lucky to get my apology! I have half a mind to-“

Varian tensed while Hugo drawled on. He knew those sets of words a little too well, and he was sick of hearing them. (But it was always his fault if he heard them anyway. So why did it matter?)

Hugo noticed Varian’s strained look and paused. He struck a nerve; normally, he would be delighted to know he hurt someone back after they did him in, (such as with a bag or ‘guilting’ him into paying, cough) but this guy... Instead of continuing to scold Varian, he turned his gaze to the window. The rain pattered down hard. Varian’s own gaze followed, along with the pets.

“I’ve haven’t seen rain this bad since I was 5. It’s nice.”

“Where I’m from, it doesn’t rain PERIOD. It’s incredibly dry.” He fake-coughed into his hand and joked, “And so are the people,” before letting out another fake cough.

Varian laughed, and Hugo grinned.

“Co- The people where I’m from, they’re, um, a lively bunch to say the least. Always partying, talking about this, who did that, why, et cetera. Now, the small area where I lived...” He trailed off.

Why was he talking about Corona? At all? He was done with it; he left for a reason! He cut off his last sentence and said, “What kind of dry do you even mean? Like, are they boring or..?”

Hugo chuckled, not turning away from the window. “Oh, don’t get me STARTED. They’re no fun until you do something that makes them mad, then they throw a tantrum.” He caught himself and snapped his fingers. “Hey, that rhymed!”

Varian laughed as Hugo seemed proud of himself. Hugo continued, “The city is so utterly drained and colorless, you’d swear you walked into a black and white painting where someone forgot to fill in the background.”

Varian let out a small laugh and listened to Hugo for the next few minutes. (About 15?) He was probably just exaggerating and making himself look like the victim, but Varian didn’t care all that much. If Hugo kept talking about himself, maybe he could finally get some sleep. (Oof.)

That was something he realized in prison; don’t interrupt the narcissistic idiots talking about great them are unless you want to get slapped. Getting slapped by a guy in a man bun who can’t stop talking about himself isn’t the most dignifying. He didn’t think Hugo would slap him but still. Nor was Hugo a ‘narcissistic idiot.’

A few more minutes passed, and Hugo noticed it was ominously quiet. Varian fell asleep along with the other pets. Hugo huffed, assuming they had fallen asleep because of his ‘boring stories,’ (they had); he grabbed a blanket off the nearby dress and laid it on Varian. Hugo stretched and looked outside. The rain left.

He glanced at Varian and the pets and yawned. OK, maybe he could stay and sleep... Just a...

He collapsed onto the nearby bed and began to snore.

<•>

Varian woke up in the late morning to see Hugo holding a picture frame with Varian’s open bag next to him. “EY!” He shouted.

He jumped up and tripped on the covers he’d accidentally rolled himself, landing with a thud. Hugo let out a laugh, and Varian groaned, slipping out of the blanket, annoyed. He snatched the photo back, and Hugo joked, “Aw, you were adorable. What happened?”

Varian rolled his eyes and looked at the photo in his hands, a slight pang of guilt in his heart. He missed his dad, and he knew he would miss him a lot, but his father would probably be better off without him. He snapped out of his sadness to glare at Hugo.

He pointed the frame’s edge towards Hugo.

“Don’t go through my stuff!”

Hugo let out a fake offended gasp and laid a hand over his heart in shock.

“I would never!”

Varian narrowed his eyes, and Hugo flipped his hair dramatically. “I simply opened the bag and rifled through it!”

Varian trembled. “THAT IS THE DEFINITION OF-“

He let out a sigh, trying to compose himself and clapped his hands.

“OK! What’s the time?”

Varian looked out the door at the clock outside their room. “11:00. Thank Demanitus. I should get going.”

Hugo shrugged and picked up Cheese off the counter, slipping the little mouse into his pocket. Ruddiger hopped onto Varian’s shoulders.

They left and stopped at the inn’s dining room. It wasn’t the classiest thing, but they assumed that’s where the 40 coins went.

They quickly grabbed a bit of food, Varian trying to hide his face as he ordered. Hugo found this a bit odd but thought nothing more of it. They began to head out the door, and Varian had almost successfully gotten out without being noticed.

But the inn clerk glared at them. Hugo knew she was mean from last night but didn’t know why her stare was so intense.

They were a foot out the door when she said, “See you, Varian.”

Hugo glanced between the two, wondering how in the world she knew his name. The younger boy looked petrified, leaving Hugo a bit confused and honestly worried.

They shut the door behind them, and Varian let out a sigh, not looking him in the eye. (Hey, another rhyme!)

“I guess this where we part ways?”

HA!

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Judgement Call (Din Djarin x OC)- Epilogue

Read the previous chapter here

EPILOGUE

Zakia woke in an unfamiliar room.

It smelled of the ocean- salt and clean air. The breeze blew in through an open window, along with an ashy dawn light that snuck through hazy curtains. The bed she was in was far more luxurious than what she usually occupied. White sheets and a thick downy comforter were draped over her shoulders, and she was warm beneath the covers.

A sound behind her indicated her bedmate was awake, and Zakia rolled over. She remembered entering the inn the previous night, feet dragging after the battle on Nevarro. Zakia had secured the room while Mando unloaded the necessary items from the Crest- they were staying for as long as possible.

Still surprised as ever upon seeing his face, Zakia took a moment to appreciate Din’s handsome features as he fought to remain in the clutches of sleep. His dark, almost black hair contrasted sharply with the white pillow where it laid in a wavy mess. Tan skin stretched the length of his bare shoulders and chest, wethered around his eyes and nose despite having eternal protection from the sun. His long nose was bruised, a deep cut running across the bridge. Other small bruises littered his face and neck, no doubt a result of explosive shrapnel after the E-Web battery explosion.

Zakia reached out with one finger to trace the side of his face, memorizing every inch of it as best as she could. While he remained helmet-less in private, she knew it would be back on as soon as they were out of bed. The helmet was sat carefully on the bedside table, and Zakia ignored the visor as it pointed in her direction. The only reason he had even consented to removing it was because the inn was over forty stories high, overlooking the ocean on some ritzy vacation planet. Their suite, upon Karga’s insistence that they be paid in some way, was the penthouse. Apparently owned by a friend of the agent’s, who was more than happy to disregard any abnormalities given a sufficient amount of money.

“That tickles.” Din muttered as Zakia’s fingers brushed through the hair falling over his forehead.

She squirmed across the massive bed to close the distance between them, smiling happily. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Brown eyes fluttered open, framed by dark lashes that Zakia found herself incredibly jealous of. “It's alright. How are you feeling?”

Zakia shrugged. “I’m okay, just a couple bruises. You’re the one I’m worried about.”

As if her worry was cursed, Din winced and rolled his shoulders. The movement carried through his spine and head, and the Mandalorian groaned as cracks and pops reached her ears.

“Getting old?” Zakia teased.

Din pressed his face further into the pillow. “That too. My head’s throbbing.”

Zakia laid her palm flat against the side of his face, thumb brushing gently over his eyelids. “Do you want more bacta? Or, I think there’s a medic downstairs we could visit.”

The man beside her huffed a sigh, looking childishly at her. “I don’t feel the need to move, in all honesty.”

A small rustling at the foot of their bed tore Zakia away from her gentle ministrations. She lifted her head and looked down, smiling as green ears appeared on the white covers.

“The kid?”

“The kid.” Zakia confirmed, stretching her arms down to pick him up.

The Child squealed in delight, wrestling with the covers until he was curled up between his two guardians. Din’s mythosaur pendant was clenched in a tiny fist, and the Mandalorian reached a finger out to brush over it.

“Womp rat.” He muttered, moving his finger to tap the baby’s nose.

Zakia smiled fondly at the pair. “This vacation is well deserved.”

On the beach, Din watched his family.

Considered the implications of he and Zakia’s new arrangement regarding his helmet.

The planet was relatively quiet, but enough people milled about that Din was fixed in full armor. Most avoided him like the plague, afraid to approach a Mandalorian or related companions.

He didn’t mind.

People never were his specialty. Hunting them, sure. But talking? Communicating ? That was a new ballgame. A new facet  of life he had to learn himself after becoming independent and functioning successfully outside the covert. Din thought he had mastered the art, but that went up into flames. He had made himself into a man of few words. Only the important things needed to be spoken on. Otherwise, there was no point. Small talk was irrelevant.

However, the transition into a family like was more than he bargained for.

Though it was far from a normal family life- they weren’t going to have it easy by any means- they were still going to have to function as a whole. That meant more communication on his part and less glossing over the little things. The newest part of their relationship, namely, his face, created even more concerns for him. Perhaps he was overthinking then, but it was important to consider.

Din was no longer able to hide behind a mask. He had to face someone eye-to-eye. Something he hadn’t done in years. Whether they realized it or not, he always did make eye contact, but it was often one-sided and unnoticed. But eyes were a great indicator of someone’s feelings.

Now, his feelings.

Zakia never stopped to question how he felt after the battle. She checked on his well-being of course, but spared him the cautious, careful glances that Cara and Greef had given him after his name was revealed. She was intuitive like in that sense. Din had been drawn to that side of her for years; Zakia could spot someone’s discomfort from a mile away, and knew when to leave it be and when to approach. Din had been unsure of his own feelings, so she refrained from asking about it and adding weight onto his already mounting thoughts.

As if making an appearance to remind him, a bolt of pain shot from the base of Din’s neck. It throbbed over his left eyebrow and forced him to squeeze it shut. With the helmet as a stark reminder to keep his cool, he only tilted his head down, resting it against the back of his glove.

“Doing alright?”

When he lifted his head once again, Zakia stood before him. Dressed in loose canvas shorts that stopped mid thigh and a loose white button-down, she was a vision of the sea. Her top was splattered from carrying the Child into the waves, and said baby was currently reaching tiny arms out in the Mandalorian’s direction.

“My head.” Din replied, “I put a bacta patch on before we came out. Just sore.”

He took the Child from Zakia, boots shifting in the fine sand of the beach. The blonde followed with the boy, allowing herself to be tugged into the Mandalorian’s arms.

“Sounds like a concussion if I’ve ever heard it.” Zakia murmured against his cuirass.

Din hummed his affirmation, tipping his helmet back as the Child wiped a drool-covered hand on it. Even so, he couldn’t find it in his to chastise the tiny being. Babbling and drooling, the Child smiled all the way. He was delighted to be with both of his people in a place where so little threatened them.

“He’s happy.” Din commented, bumping his hip gently into Zakia’s side. Her eyes had fallen closed, and blinked open at his movement.

“Very. I think he wants to stay a while.”

‘Stay a while’ didn’t often end well with the odd trio, but this time it felt different. Din imagined the feeling was right, and couldn’t be bothered to fight it in his current state. Casting a glance to make sure they were still secluded on the sandy beach, Din leaned into Zakia’s grip.

“Ready for a nap?” She teased.

Din paused, and cocked his helmet to look at her. “You better start walking then.”

For the first time in thirty years, Din Djarin was finally relaxed.