#i would’ve wept for hours i fear

[kevinsdsy]

oh to be standing in front of the statue of nike, goddess of victory, as an olympian..

[temis-de-leon]

He has a nightmare where he rejected you

Characters: Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor (x reader, separately)

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 4 , Part 5

Main Masterlist

CW: Asmo's having a bit of a mental breakdown, Beel literally has a fever dream and there's a brief description of lesson 16 in Belphie's part

.

Asmodeus – He didn’t want to play favourites

There’s an endless line of demons and witches alike willing to kill and die for him.

He can’t live without their adoration, their desire and their support.

While he knows you are not like everybody else, he can’t help but compare you to the rest of his fans.

Where’s the difference between your love and theirs? Can you give more than what they’ve already given him?

He can’t help but feel honoured by your confession, being chosen by their beloved human, but the idea of accepting your advances makes him feel ungrateful to his loyal fans.

The rejection comes out easily, just like many times before, and your reaction makes him sigh and almost offer his shoulder to cry on.

That would’ve been too cruel, wouldn’t it?

The uniqueness of your feelings doesn’t stand out until time passes.

It’s not just your attention that he misses, but also the tenderness in your eyes and the shy hint of your smile whenever he looks at you.

It became apparent that you cared not only for what he showed but also for what he hid about himself.

He tried searching for that same shade of love in your expression, but it faded quickly as weeks passed.

It all reached an end where, in a turn of events that made him sweat in fear and disgust, you started to look instead for his eldest brother.

He starts to work, desperately thinking that, maybe, if he made himself more beautiful or popular, you would change your mind and return to trying to be with him.

However, judging by the way you looked at Lucifer, he knew his reciprocation came a little bit too late.

You woke up to the sounds of sobbing, an animalistic yearning for comfort that pulled you out of your slumber. Hands grabbed the blankets covering you and a voice kept bubbling nonsense, an entire monologue full of sorrow that you couldn’t understand. In the end, it was the familiarity of the demon in front of you what fully brought you to the living world.

Asmo, kneeling beside your bed, cried even louder when he saw you opening your eyes. By the desperate moves of his hands you knew he wanted to hug you and that, mixed with the despair in his expression, tugged your heartstrings with painful force and made you open your arms.

He threw himself at you, burying you both in the cocoon of bedsheets and blankets and wept as you smoothed his hair and murmured words of consolation in his ear.

Almost half an hour passed until he could breathe with ease, but he wouldn’t look at you. Not like you were counting on it.

“You love me, don’t you? Do you still love me? Please, tell me you do. I love you, I truly do. I’d never reject you…”

“Reject me…?”

“I love you, I love you…”

Asmo hid his face in the crook of your neck, rocking the both of you back and forth in search of calmness. He ignored your questions and shaking hands, although you quickly realised he wasn’t entirely conscious about it. He seemed completely lost, repeating the confessions of his affections for you until he finally fell asleep from exhaustion.

You laid under him for the remainder of the night, too scared and shaken to rest again and hoping with all your strength that whatever put him in this state would disappear forever.

Beelzebub – He didn’t feel the same

It is indifference. From the moment you stepped into the house, what he felt for you was nothing more than indifference.

His room is empty and his twin’s absence occupies his mind more than it should, but he can’t do anything about it besides dealing with the loneliness.

Living with his older brothers simply isn’t enough anymore.

His family isn’t complete and the presence of a human in their home isn’t going to change that.

The first time he truly interacts with you is in the kitchen, in the middle of the night, willing to murder you over custard. The only reason you aren’t harmed is his brother’s fondness for you.

As a consequence, his room is no longer empty and he finds that quite enjoyable. Without any reason to be rude or mean to you, your short time spent together passes too quickly for his liking and, afterwards, he finds himself visiting you whenever he has the chance.

Beel values your friendship and he believes the feeling is mutual, even when you blush, smile with excitement and stare with bright eyes whenever he enters the room.

He is incapable of seeing how unbalanced your affections compared to his are.

His heart doesn’t stutter at your existence and neither do his words. You are his friend, a dear one, but nothing more; that’s what he tells you in response to your confession.

He pities your heartbreak and assures you your platonic relationship will remain the same, but his promises fall on deaf ears. The friendship is left hollow and unnatural and he briefly wonders if accepting your pouring heart would’ve been the better option.

Would have he fallen for you over time? If that were the case, although initially forced, would the love blossom into something strong and worth fighting for?

He hopes he will, too, go back to normal as weeks pass and you painfully overcome your crush, but when you’re finally able to look at him with non-romantic warmth, half of his face is red, his eyes twitch in adoration at each one of your smiles and his throat hurts from self-caused frustration.

Now it’s his turn to suffer the heartbreak.

There was a deep pressure on his chest when he woke up and as bad as Beel wanted it to be the comforting weight of your body, he knew that couldn’t be true. He didn’t feel the top of your head under his chin or your quiet breath against his skin. Had you actually been there, he would’ve never let you go.

His eyes were tired, itchy under heavy eyelids, and a pounding headache begged him not to move an inch, although he wasn’t sure he would be able to anyway; his muscles were glued to the bedsheets with sweat.

Groaning in exhaustion, he slowly turned his head sideways, staring at his twin’s sleeping form with deep-rooted fondness. Belphie was frowning, probably feeling part of Beel’s discomfort, and was twitching in his sleep, murmuring words he couldn’t decipher and lashing the tuft of his tail with weak movements.

An empty chair was also there, slightly facing his direction.

Quietly, the door opened and the dim glow of the hallway’s candles briefly lighted the entry, distracting him from the ache. A figure stepped in, tip-toeing while closing the door again and making its way to his bed.

MC…?

Was he hallucinating?

“Did I wake you up?” you asked in worry, unfazed by his silence.

He watched as you ignored the chair and sat beside him at the edge of the mattress, unsure of what to say or do. He wanted to touch you, take your face in his hand and make sure you weren’t a manifestation of his desires, but he wasn’t sure he was allowed to. In addition to that, his head felt full of cotton and completely detached from the rest of his body; he didn’t want to strike you by accident.

“My DDD ran out of battery, but I didn’t know where your charger was and I didn’t want to make noise. I just came back from my room”

You lifted your hand and he gasped in expectation, sighing with relief when you pushed away his wet hair and placed a kiss on his forehead. If he could return the gesture, he would, but he was barely able to keep his eyes focused on you, let alone talk or move.

“You’re still too warm” you informed with a frown, preparing yourself to leave his side. “I’m going to get a wet tow-… Honey?”

Beel sighed again, this time shuddering, exhausted at the effort of grabbing your arm and pulling you back to him.

Honey.

Your lips turned down in a sad smile, still coming down to kiss him again for a little longer.

“You’ll feel better tomorrow, I promise”

Honey.

“…ve you…”

You hummed a question against his skin, unsure of what he’d said, but he suddenly felt too weak to repeat himself.

“Go to sleep, okay? I’ll be here, Beel”

Honey.

Belphegor – He hated you

Your free will and your refusal to give up, going up the stairs despite Lucifer’s threats and helping the mysterious man imprisoned in the attic; stupidity and no sense of self-preservation trapped behind a weak shield of kindness and compassion.

Seeing you strive to help him is amusing; like a candle hoping to light the vastness of the night.

That you think he is a human is just an advantage to his plan, but how can you, such an insignificant creature, aid in his escape?

The mere sight of you sends bile to his mouth, but he can’t do anything besides entertain you whenever your human need of connection forces you to search for him.

You talk incessantly and he listens, albeit with no interest and borderline rude behaviour. He scoffs, shoots sarcastic remarks and brings you down whenever he has the chance, calling you stupid and naïve.

That’s why your feelings for him are so surprising.

You… like him? Do you like being lied to and degraded?

Okay.

He’s not going to complain.

It’s just another reason for you to help him without thinking twice.

And that you do.

A laugh blurts out of his throat when he finally closes his arms around your excited figure. You’re blushing and smiling like a fool and when you try to step away to ask if he’s okay, there’s nothing in your existence but pain.

Your desperate scratches are nothing for him and neither is the heartbreak of betrayal in your eyes. If anything, they make him want to hurt you even further, pushing your neck against the floor with inhumane strength and letting your body fall down the stairs like a child dropping a ragdoll would.

He comes to his senses no long after that; less than an hour. Your heritage is explained and his prejudices are proven to be incorrect, vanishing like dust at the prospect of sharing a friendship with you like his brothers do.

You were nice to him then, back when you didn’t know who he was, so why wouldn’t you be nice to him again now that there are no secrets between you? His actions were wrong, yes, but also justified.

Wouldn’t you agree, MC? He deserves the benefit of the doubt.

But why aren’t you looking at him anymore? Why do you hide? Don’t you trust him?

He said he was sorry! Isn’t that enough?

The door opened with a loud noise, then closed almost without notice. Something dragged across the floor until reaching your bed, a blanket, and if the soft hint of lavender didn’t let you know who just disturbed your sleep, then his words would make it obvious.

“You’re not in my bed” Belphie stated. You turned, confused at the abrupt interruption and the tone of his voice, which made it clear he was trying to hide something. His figure was indistinguishable amidst the dark, but his purple eyes stood out like stars. Before you could say anything, he talked again. “Why?”

He watched in silence as you looked around, trying to find a clue to understand what was happening. Still waiting for a response, he huffed as he climbed over you and settled on the other side of the bed.

“Like a cryptid, Belphie” you mustered in annoyance while letting him cling to your side. “You’re just like a cryptid”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re testing my patience”

“Why aren’t you in my bed?”

“I swear to God…”

You stared at him in disbelief, but something in his expression subdued your irritation. Now that he was closer you could see his glossy eyes, a frown twisting his whole face as his hands held on to you with more force than necessary. Although you had suspicions about what he wanted to hear, a sincere I love you, you still took the longer route and calmly answered his question.

“You kicked me out…”

“I never would” he quickly retaliated, sitting straight like a spring and hovering over you with determined and unblinking eyes.

“…because I had an accident in Solomon’s laboratory and my skin and clothes smelt like chemicals”

There was silence in the room for a few seconds and, after pushing him softly, Belphie finally laid down again, his features slowly relaxing until only a bitter expression remained. Your fingers carefully detangled his hair, but not even that seemed enough to fully calm him down.

“I’m sorry”, he said against your shoulder, delicately hugging your waist like you were made of porcelain.

“It’s okay, we can just go back to sleep…”

“I’m sorry, MC”

Your confusion was obvious, but he didn’t say anything and, by the time you gathered enough courage to ask, he was already deeply unconscious.

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010  @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[inlovewithregencyera]

A letter from Maximilian Worthington to Frederick Worthington:

July 8th, 1817

Often, I am haunted by the fear of judgment for expressing my emotions so freely, save for you alone am I truly able to confide in. Today was extremely hard for me because it would’ve been Mama’s fiftieth birthday. I remember her death so clearly in the back of my mind, just as if it were yesterday. I returned from my daily ride, shortly before the usual dinner. I picked Mama a handful of daisies hoping to lift her spirit as she had been so melancholy with the loss of my dear sister the year prior. I hastily walked up to her chamber, knocked, and received no answer. Knocking once more and still hearing nothing, I entered the room, only to find her lifeless body limp and sprawled across the bed. I screamed for Father, who rushed from his study, and upon seeing his dear wife, collapsed and was immediately consumed by tears. His scream was heard all over Ivyhurst, as Isabella came immediately from the drawing room. We were all overtaken by grief, and sprawled on the floor in our despair. Miss Hurst, Bell’s governess, gently took the poor desolate girl away from the scene. I attempted to console my dear Father and it seemed my mind had gone blank. I don’t know how long I sat there with him weeping into my arms, perhaps it was an hour or two because when I looked out the window the sky was pitch black. Papa refused for anyone to come near her body, and told Reverend Smith to be damned to the depths of hell. When the funeral furnisher and undertaker finally arrived, he could not part with the corpse of his beloved Phia and therefore attacked both men who tried to get her. Because of this, he was given one last night alone with her, and he didn’t sleep. He held her in his arms and wept into her bosom the whole night, begging God to do the irreversible and take him instead. He said it wasn’t right that a man's sweet little daughter and now his beloved wife must go before him. I sat with Bell the whole night who cried herself to sleep in my arms. I didn’t sleep and had no more tears to cry, so I just sat there with my right leg joining my heart in numbness. At the crack of dawn, Father called us to embrace Mama’s lips and say a last farewell. I knew this kiss would be the last I should ever bestow upon on the woman who held all my affection. In the evening, she lay in the chapel with all the servants and the few people she held dearest to her heart around her coffin. The only person missing was you, as Papa blamed the entirety of your household for her demise, thus you were forbidden from coming. The daisies I picked for her were placed into her hands, and that was my final gift to my mother. She was taken to Thornfield before nightfall, to be reunited with the vessel of her daughter just as her spirit had been. Papa refused to watch her be put into a grave as he said he would jump into it with her, and Bell and I knew our hearts couldn’t handle that same sighting we saw less than a year ago with the death of our Elle. I watched the hearse head for the gates, and before it left, I kept telling myself that it was a nightmare. I hoped it would return with haste and bring back my nurturer, my savior, my most cherished Mama-but it never did.

[tanoraqui]

I think I finally finished the Maglor&Eärendil fic. I'm still not certain the pacing is right. But in celebration, enjoy this deleted scene of Why Elrond Embraced Operation: They're Probably Not Going To Sink 5 Ringerbearers

To Mithrandir, most knowing of the opinions of the Powers of the World, Elrond said firmly, “By all accounts he is ill and suffering. I will not leave such a person behind if I can help instead.” To which Mithrandir smiled—grinned, really—and said, “I would expect no less of you.” To Galadriel, he said, “I was angry with him when I was young—I was angry at almost everything, for a while—but I will not pretend any longer that I didn’t forgive them both centuries—no, millennia ago.” To which Galadriel arched her elegant eyebrows and said, “You were pretending?” To his sons, Elrond said nothing, only realized three days into their “one last hunting trip, just the three of us, Ada?” that they were trying to surreptitiously herd him onto the same trail he was trying to surreptitiously herd them onto. Because they’d inherited both their mother’s insight and her sly planning, and decided in their blithe youth that as recompense for not sailing West with him now (or maybe ever), they would gift him a wayward adopted father to take instead, so he need not leave everyone on these shores whom he most loved. (Elladan and Elrohir were 3,000 years old as of ten years ago. In Elrond’s mind, he and Celebrian had held them as newborns last week at earliest. He thought that if only she’d been here as well, he might have stayed, even with the unexpectedly great weariness of Vilya’s fading.) All of these reasons were true. But Elrond could admit to himself an additional…not motivation but a benefit to searching out Maglor on his latest lonely beach and cajoling him (half-charming him, half-carrying him) onto a West-bound ship: it was familiar. To have a patient to tend to; to have an inevitably contentious debate to prepare for, with… Not, perhaps, literally everyone, because Celebrian would surely still know him better than he knew himself. But with parents, grandparents, innumerable aunts and uncles and cousins, maybe five of whom he’d ever met and only two of whom he actually knew, and friends and allies and no doubt some enemies and… Three Ages of the world since the first time, Elrond still wept to be leaving his home, all that he had known for so long, for somewhere entirely new with a new cast of people. Of course he knew many of them already, and covert letters from his parents and Celebrian promised that the shores of Aman felt like home even to those who’d never set foot on them before. But rational reassurance rarely meant much to fears of the heart, Elrond knew that better than most, after centuries trying to heal such fears in others. So at least Maglor would be with him in a strange new world yet again! And if Maglor spent a half his time believing that even the ship in which they sailed was a hallucination, and much of the rest too lost in memory to realize he was on a ship at all, with slim hours left over for assuming they were taking him to be cast directly into Darkness… Elrond knew how to handle these problems. When Maglor shrank in reflexive terror from company, after millennia of self-imposed isolation, Elrond made sure he had food and water in the small cabin allotted him, then left him in peace for a few hours. When Maglor slipped out of his cave to stand on the deck and stare fixedly at the Star leading them West, with an intensity that would’ve been worrying were it not too full of grief to hold even the slightest hint of Oath-bound greed, Elrond stood beside him and started gentle conversations (for in the ancient light, ironically, Maglor was often the most aware of the present).

[offender42085]

Post 1065

And he wept as each family called for the maximum punishment: life in prison.

Cody Shirah, Florida inmate Q31603, born 1995, incarceration intake March 2018 at age 22, scheduled for release March 2075

DUI Manslaughter x4, Possession Controlled Substance, Possession Methamphetamine, Assault with Weapon

In 2018, despite his attempts to convince the jury otherwise, Cody Austin Shirah was convicted of drunkenly plowing through a stop sign in September 2016 and killing four visiting Ohio softball players.

Immediately after receiving the verdict, Circuit Judge Michael Overstreet sentenced the 22-year-old Shirah to 60 years in prison and accepted part of the blame for releasing Shirah on drug offender probation, resulting from a prior conviction, only months before the fatal crash.

It took jurors about two and a half hours to find Shirah guilty as charged of fleeing the scene of a crash, four counts of DUI manslaughter and a count of DUI with bodily injury. After hearing the verdict, Overstreet also heard statements from the family members of the four victims.

Shirah wept as each family called for the maximum punishment: life in prison.

Shirah stood before the court and pleaded for leniency from the court and forgiveness from the families of his victims. He was not greeted with sympathy.

In the final day of trial, Shirah attempted to convince jurors of his version of events leading up to the crash. He took the stand to say he had only consumed two beers that night at a friend’s house and was heading home when he clipped a truck on U.S. 231 he was attempting to pass. Shirah claimed he tried to stop and swap information, but the driver of the other truck became “very aggressive.”

Shirah said he then fled out of fear down Pinetree Road with the mother of his child, Kristun Nichole Tullier, in the passenger seat. As he approached the intersection with John Pitts Road, Shirah did not see the headlights of the van carrying the softball players pull into his path, he claimed.

“I was scared. The way he was acting, if I stopped, he would’ve hit me,” Shirah said, tearing up. “I didn’t see the stop sign. I was looking in my rear-view mirror behind me at the vehicle that was chasing me.”

Despite admitting to drinking two beers — which was contrary to the findings of expert toxicology witnesses from both sides that testified his blood alcohol content was above the legal limit of 0.08 percent — Shirah would not agree his consumption constituted “multiple beers.”

The jury sided with the prosecution.

By giving his testimony, Shirah admitted he willfully violated his probation on three felonies by drinking alcohol and being out after his curfew. He faced up to an additional 15 years in prison, but Overstreet sentenced him to five years in prison concurrent with one of the DUI manslaughter sentences.

Before handing down the sentence, though, Judge Overstreet took part of the blame for the fatal crash. Only months earlier, he had released Shirah on drug offender probation.

“When these people consider how this happened, it started with this sentence. I did that,” Overstreet told Shirah, shaking his head. “Every opportunity was afforded for you to live lawfully and address your problems with substance abuse. The system has failed this family, and I bear some responsibility for that.”

3o

[chernayawidow]

“So you used your somewhat free arm to grab the man’s hand and bite down hard.” — HELL YEAH!!! DRAW BLOOD!

“He yelled in pain and loosened enough for you to throw an elbow back into what you hoped was his face. (It was his throat, but you didn’t know or care at the time.)” — The throat is even better hell yeH!!

“You were able to scrape a bit of freedom, getting just a few steps away until he grabbed at you again. This time he forcefully turned you around and slammed your head on the counter.” — NAURRRRR!!!

“The next, the icy grip of your fear (and your scream) squeezed around his heart like a vice. He’d felt the intensity of your fear before, but not like this.” — He would feel soooo helpless right now, but god help whoever her attacker is cause he’s just hurt Dean Winchester’s girl!

“After along moment, he realized that the silence didn’t mean you were gone. He could still feel you. You were just in shock. Frozen.” — That’s a nifty little trick there! At least he knows for sure that she’s not dead.

“Good. I need you to tell me what happened just now. Are you hurt?” — Is this gonna be why they officially meet? If so that’s cute in an angsty way.

“You looked down at the body in your kitchen: Danny Schmitt. He laid face down on the yellow tile with a chef’s knife lodged deep into his spinal cord.” — FUCK YOU DANNY SCHMITT, NO MEANS NO!! Dick!

“You froze, clutching your phone to your chest. No.” — I love this denial in such a masochistic way.

“And you shut down the connection between you two. You didn’t know you could do that, but you did. And then you sat on the couch and wept.” — Ah yes, the angst is so satisfying in a spicy way!!

“Right now, he didn’t care. He had to find you somehow. Right fucking now.” — HELL YEAH ITS FIREY DEAN!!!

“Your dad’s embrace was warm, protective, tight with worry and relief simultaneously.” — Awh he’s a good father indeed 🥹

“No,” Jack said firmly. “The last thing you need is to be around that drunken idiot. No, you can stay with Jody Mills. She’s good people.” — Good thing that she’s a grown woman who can make her own decisions about where she stays hmph!

“As in singular chick,” Dean emphasized. “A girl, Sam. My…well, not my. Not yet anyway—” — heheheheheh she’s his girl alright, I love motivated Dean 😏🤙

“Sam frowned in concern. “Is she okay?”” — Sammy concerned for his future sister in law 🥹

“Sam’s eyes widened a fraction, both incredulous and recognizing his brother’s knack for downplaying these things, like he had with Cassie.” — Unrelated, but the only person it would’ve made sense for Dean to go back to was Cassie. I wish we got to see her again 😩

“Well, it didn’t matter. Sam wasn’t going to let Dean let go of his happiness this time.” — Stan Sam for clear skin 🫶

“Though you know, my husband died last year. I still came to work bright and early the next day.” — What an actual bitch!! Dean should rip into her!

“An hour later, they were pulling into the driveway at Singer Salvage. Next to Bobby’s truck was a blue Camaro.” — OMG YES IT’S HAPPENING!!!

““Boys, this here’s my niece,” Bobby said. When you stood up and greeted them with your name, Dean knew it was you—the girl he’d practically been scouring the entire state for.” — The bruises and bandage didn’t give it away? 🤣

“You were a scrapper, a survivor, and for that he was proud of you.” — Dean’s kinda gal 😏

““All right, just teasing,” he said. “No need to hide.” He bypassed your hand to prop a finger beneath your chin so he could see your face.” — I love it when you write in the chin thing 😮‍💨✨

“Up the stairs,” he clarified. “The shower’s upstairs.” — LMAO THIS IS GOING SO MUCH BETTER THEN I IMAGINED!!! I love goofy/awkward Dean! 🤣

“Nah, Sam’s like a dog. He can sleep anywhere,” he said. “On the floor, even.” — Sam literally is a dog, he’s got such a puppy face.

“And you closed the bathroom door in his face.” — I LOVE HER SO MUCH!!!

WOOH! This was such a good time and way to have them meet, the anticipation after she shut him out made it even better too. And seeing Dean’s dedication to making sure that she’s okay by tracking her down was so heart warming to watch!

Never Say Goodbye - Part 5

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

Word Count: 4,800 Warnings: **(Trigger warning) physical assault, mentions of blood, language.

Part 5: Self-Defense

Your scream muffled as another hand grabbed your arm, pulling you tight against someone’s chest.

Terror was a living thing inside you. It paralyzed your heart and lungs and mind, but thankfully not your instinct to get away.

You thrashed and kicked over a lamp trying to escape the hold. You were all but dragged across the living room and into the kitchen. There you caught a glimpse of your attacker through a reflection on the microwave—it was a man and he was tall and blonde.

Your mind finally cleared of your panic just enough to remember the years of self-defense your dad had taught you. So you used your somewhat free arm to grab the man’s hand and bite down hard.

He yelled in pain and loosened enough for you to throw an elbow back into what you hoped was his face. (It was his throat, but you didn’t know or care at the time.)

You were able to scrape a bit of freedom, getting just a few steps away until he grabbed at you again. This time he forcefully turned you around and slammed your head on the counter. Your senses fuzzed as you slipped and fell into a heap on the ground.

You struggled through a haze of pain to open your eyes, but your vision was blurry. Your face felt wet. And for a second, all you could see were shapes.

Those blurred edges cleared up when the man knelt down and took your throat in his hand. You blinked through a few drops of blood dripping down your face, when you finally saw his. And you recognized him.

But then he started squeezing. The panic started in earnest as you clawed at his hand on your throat. Behind him on the counter were the kitchen knives, but you couldn’t even get up, let alone reach.

He had you pinned on the floor and you couldn’t fucking breathe.

Dean was in a panic.

One moment he was washing his and Sam’s dishes in the kitchen, teasing his girl. The next, the icy grip of your fear (and your scream) squeezed around his heart like a vice. He’d felt the intensity of your fear before, but not like this.

The force of it actually made one of his knees buckle and he accidentally cut himself with a small steak knife he’d been washing. Fuck!

But the pain persisted. It brought him down as he tossed the knife into the sink and clutched his chest.

He could only try to make sense of your thoughts. You were instinctively imparting to him one after the next, but it was a blur of jumbled words and emotions that he couldn’t make out. 

You couldn’t hear him calling your name either. All that came through his connection with you was your terror.

And then…nothing at all.

It terrified him into stillness.

Dean slowly raised himself into a sitting position on the floor, and he called your name, repeatedly.

Hey, can you hear me?   

After along moment, he realized that the silence didn’t mean you were gone. He could still feel you. You were just in shock. Frozen. 

Sweetheart, you with me? he pressed. You finally roused enough to reply.

Yeah…I’m…here.

Good. Dean closed his eyes and released a breath. Fuck, sweet relief. He sat up against the kitchen cabinet. His hand was still bleeding all over him, so he held it closed with his other hand.

Good. I need you to tell me what happened just now. Are you hurt?

You looked down at the body in your kitchen: Danny Schmitt. He laid face down on the yellow tile with a chef’s knife lodged deep into his spinal cord.

Your throat and neck hurt (along with your head), so it was a good thing you didn’t have to speak to communicate with your soulmate.

Someone broke in, and…

You realized that your hands were shaking. As you saw again in the microwave reflection, tears streamed down your face. You had a stream of blood drying on your forehead and down your cheek.

And you had no idea what to do next.

Dean swallowed a surge of protective anger and nervous suspicion, trying not to assume the worst.

Did he hurt you? he asked.

He um…he’s dead. And I…

Your reply shocked him, but he let out another relieved breath. He carefully picked himself off the floor. Okay, call 9-1-1.

My…my dad is a cop. I have to call him.

Interesting.

Good. Call him now, Dean said. But what’s your address? I’m coming now.

On shaking legs, you left the kitchen to find your phone—in your purse in the living room. There was broken glass everywhere.

What’s your address? he asked. I’m coming now.

You froze, clutching your phone to your chest. No.

No? What do you mean no?

Fear and shock were making your erratic, but all you could focus on was the fact that you were in absolute shambles. You didn’t want him to see you like this. You didn’t want to meet him like this—with literal blood on your hands.

No, you repeated.

This isn’t up for debate. His tone was firm and worried. Don’t do this to me. Come on.

He called your name, but you stubbornly shook your head.

And you shut down the connection between you two. You didn’t know you could do that, but you did. And then you sat on the couch and wept.

Dean was paralyzed with shock. I can’t believe she just did that.

You were still terrified, probably hurt, and now he couldn’t get to you. He didn’t even know your last name. He didn’t have your number or anything to go on.

“Shit!” he growled, slamming his good hand on the counter.

“What the hell happened?” Bobby asked from the doorway. He took in the blood on the floor and Dean hunched over the sink with a bleeding hand.

“Think you can guess, right?” Dean snapped, gesturing to his hand. That was frustration enough for anybody, but he knew that Bobby didn’t totally buy it.

Right now, he didn’t care. He had to find you somehow. Right fucking now.

Your dad’s embrace was warm, protective, tight with worry and relief simultaneously. You sat in the back of the paramedic truck while they wrapped your injured head and checked your vitals. Jack was patient as he went through the questions he needed to ask about your attacker.

Your house had already become a crime scene, swarmed with police personnel. They’d already taken the body out of the house.

The paramedic advised getting you to the hospital for a head CT. Your father agreed, but you held onto his arm.

“Can you give us a minute?” you asked the paramedic. The woman was probably just a few years older than you. She nodded and went to connect with her partner on getting ready for your transport. Slowly, you got off the back of the ambulance.

“Whoa, what are you doing?” Jack said in alarm.

“Dad, listen to me,” you said. You guided him closer to the house and away from his unit of policemen. You opened your coat enough to give him a folded towel. He took it and unraveled it, revealing the bloody knife.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Okay, don’t worry. This is standard self-defense.”

“Dad, I don’t remember grabbing the knife,” you said.

Jack rested a hand on your shoulder. “That happens. You’re in shock—”

“No. I don’t remember because it was never in my hand,” you whispered harshly. “I didn’t grab it. The kitchen knives were too far away. It’s impossible!”

“Okay, calm down,” your dad said gently. “You…you’ve been through a lot. You’re just in shock. You’ll get checked out at the hospital, but when all this clears, you’ll be fine.”

“Think what you want, Dad. But when they dust that knife for fingerprints, they’re not going to find mine,” you snapped.

Slowly Jack’s expression dimmed from patient to understanding. At the very least, he finally believed that you believed what you were saying–that you had no idea how that knife ended up in Danny Schmitt.

After discreetly taking a quick look around, Jack held out the knife to you, hilt first. He looked into your eyes. “Grab it.”

You released a breath and, for the first time, took it in your hand. You held it at the angle you would’ve needed to stab the knife downward. As if you had really stabbed that man.

Then Jack took the knife back.

“It’s cut and dry this way,” he told you. “Self-defense.”

You nodded, even though you regretted the motion immediately. The left side of your head ached terribly.

“This place is still going to be a crime scene when we get you out of the hospital,” Jack realized.

“I could ask Bobby if I could stay with him,” you said.

“No,” Jack said firmly. “The last thing you need is to be around that drunken idiot. No, you can stay with Jody Mills. She’s good people.”

“Dad,” you tried, but he was already calling Jody over.

“Hey Jody, can she stay with you tomorrow? I’ll bring her over once we’re done at the hospital tonight,” Jack said. Jody nodded and rested a hand on your shoulder.

“Of course, hun. Call me when you’re on your way,” she said. Jack nodded, and Jody got back into the fray of policework in your house.

You glared at him. “I’m not a kid. I can make my own decisions.”

Though you rubbed at your aching head. Jack ushered you to the ambulance and the paramedics strapped you in.

On the bumpy ride to the hospital, you felt terrible. Not just because your body was a walking welt, but because you shut him out of your mind. Whatever his name was.

You craved feeling his presence. Even though you still didn’t know what your soulmate looked like, you could imagine what it would be like to be held by him. Comforted, safe, with that deep voice like rich whiskey and still somewhat boyish, to tease a smile onto your face.

You wanted to open the connection and say, I’m sorry.

You almost did. But right now, you were a coward that let your fear win.

You kept the connection closed.

The next morning, Sam and Bobby sat at the kitchen table with mugs of coffee. They shared a mixed look of confusion and annoyance as they watched Dean make a pan of scrambled eggs.

It was the aggressive stirring and none-too gentle banging of various spices and cooking utensils that had them concerned (and significantly weirded out).

When Dean served up the food and set down their plates with a clang, Sam looked up at his brother with a raised brow. Dean didn’t notice though. He just sat down and tasted the eggs. A bit dry. Goddamn it.

“Dean?” Sam tried.

“What?”

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Dean said. Even he knew it wasn’t convincing, but he didn’t care. His mind was too preoccupied with what happened with you last night. His connection with you was still on radio silence. He heard and sensed nothing at all…

And he was worried.

He debated going through the old-school yellow pages for every person with your name in Sioux Falls, but that could be hundreds. And he didn’t know your last name, or anything concrete about you except…

Shit, I’m a freakin’ genius! he thought. Dean remembered one thing: you were a student at the University of South Dakota. History major.

“Well, I’m gonna head out,” Bobby said. “Got a sixteen-wheeler to fish out of a gutter.”

He purposefully didn’t mention the tense atmosphere, but he gave Sam a look. Work it out, it said.

Dean turned to his brother after finishing up his coffee. “Look, before we hit the road, I’ve got something to take care of.”

“Oh yeah? Is it whatever’s got you on edge right now?” Sam asked.

Dean kept a stubborn lid on it. “It’s just an errand I’ve gotta run.”

“Uh-uh.” Sam shook his head. “What’s going on with you? Where are you going?”

Dean got up and ignored his brother’s questions. He didn’t know why his instinct was to keep this to himself, but it was easier than explaining the mess he’d gotten himself into.

Sam followed him into the living room and watched Dean grab his phone and the keys to the Impala. So Sam grabbed his wallet and phone too.

Dean shot him a firm look. “Stay here, Sam. It’s no big deal.”

“If it’s no big deal, then I’ll just come with.”

Dean made a sound of aggravation. Sometimes, Sam could be a massive pain in the ass. Dean’s lips were tight as he left Bobby’s house and headed for the Impala. Sam was hot on his heels. They got into the car and soon enough, Dean drove onto the highway going south.

“So where’re we going?” Sam asked.

Dean shot him an annoyed look, but his brother was unrepentant. So he gave up. “To the university.”

Sam had to think for a moment. “Of South Dakota?”

“That’s the one,” Dean said flatly. He stared out at the road ahead.

Sam had a feeling this wasn’t hunting-related, or Dad-related.

“What, are you scoping out chicks or something?” he asked, only half serious. He watched his older brother’s expression tighten.

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

Dean glanced at Sam, then made a sound of both frustration and defeat. “Chick. Not chicks.”

“Excuse me?”

“As in singular chick,” Dean emphasized. “A girl, Sam. My…well, not my. Not yet anyway—”

“Dean,” Sam interjected. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m looking for someone, okay?” Dean snapped. “You could say I’ve been hearing thoughts that ain’t mine, if you catch my drift.”

For a moment, Sam couldn’t compute. He stared at the side of Dean’s face, burning a hole in his head.

“Damn it, would you just say something? My head’s about to spontaneously combust,” Dean snarked.

“Your soulmate?” Sam clarified. “Your damn soulmate. You couldn’t just tell me that?”

Dean shot him a defensive look. “It’s a little personal.”

Sam released a frustrated sigh.

“Fine. You know where she is?”

“Kind of,” Dean admitted. “We haven’t met in person yet.”

Sam blinked in confusion. “Okay…this still doesn’t entirely explain why you’ve been so on edge. Damn near crazy.”

Dean hesitated, but eventually he explained.

“Something happened to her last night. Some guy broke into her house.”

Sam frowned in concern. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. Well, she’s alive. But she isn’t fine,” Dean said. “Anyway, I just want to be sure.”

Sam’s eyes widened a fraction, both incredulous and recognizing his brother’s knack for downplaying these things, like he had with Cassie.

Well, it didn’t matter. Sam wasn’t going to let Dean let go of his happiness this time. 

After you were cleared to go home from the hospital with a concussion, but nothing else majorly wrong, your dad dropped you off at Jody Mills’ house.

You liked Jody, but you didn’t appreciate your dad controlling the situation—and by extension your life, as he usually tried to do.

So once you’d said goodbye to Jody and her husband when they left for work (and to drop their son off at pre-school), you took your keys that Jack had left you, grabbed your bag, and snuck out of the house.

It was more effort than you should’ve exerted, but you walked the two blocks home. Then you grabbed some more clothes, toiletries, and your car keys.

While the brothers Winchester searched for the university’s History department, Dean continued to beat himself up internally. Sam noticed his brother’s less than peppy attitude and shot him a questioning look.

“I should’ve just gone to meet her the first night she reached out,” Dean muttered. “I should’ve told her my name, at least.”

He should’ve reached out four years ago, when he had the chance.

“You didn’t even tell her your name?” Sam asked. His surprise was followed closely by anger. “You’ve got a chance here that not many people get in life, and you’ve been playing games.”

“I’m not fucking playing,” Dean shot back. “Do I really gotta remind you what Dad went through after Mom died? Not to mention how freakin’ insane our lives are. How can I seriously bring someone else into this?”

Sam understood how Dean felt, to a degree. He felt guilty for what happened to Jess every day—for not being there. He’d loved her with everything he had, and he still missed her. He wouldn’t stop hunting the Yellow-Eyed demon until he avenged her.

But he wasn’t like Dean.

Jess hadn’t been his soulmate.

Sam had a feeling Dean was hesitating because of something else. Something deeper than Dad’s example. Something that had a lot more to do with how Dean saw himself.

So as they walked down the hall towards the Dean of Ancient Studies’ office, Sam held Dean back a second by his arm. He was gentle, but firm.

“Dean, most people spend their whole lives looking for this, waiting for this to happen to them,” he said. “How can you shut her out?”

Dean slipped his arm out of Sam’s grip. “Right now, she’s the one shutting me out.”

Sam frowned, but Dean didn’t give him a chance to reply. He followed Dean over to the office and watched him knock on the door.

A woman answered. She looked refined, with her pencil skirt and severe heels. Her thin blonde hair was twisted into a tight bun, peeling back the skin of her face. She also looked irritated to be bothered by anyone.

“Yes?” she asked. Dean glanced up at the name plate on the wall. Dr. Helen Birch.

“Hi there, Dr. Birch. We’re looking for a history major, graduate student,” Dean began. When he gave her your name, she recognized it instantly.

“Yes, she’s my graduate assistant. She’s not in today,” said Dr. Birch. “She had an accident last night, poor thing.”

“Well, wasn’t really an accident,” Dean said, his mouth quirking humorlessly. “Someone broke into her house and attacked her.”

Dr. Birch nodded.

“A hellish thing, to be sure. But she sounded all right on the phone this morning,” she said, adjusting her Prada-framed glasses. She released a hum of a sigh. “Though you know, my husband died last year. I still came to work bright and early the next day.”

Dean’s gaze hardened, and Sam knew the tell-tale signs that his brother was about to lose his temper.

He laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder and cut in quickly, “Well, we’re her cousins. We just wanted to grab some of her things for her.”

Dr. Birch pointed at a room to the left of her office. “That’s her office right there. Give her my best for me.”

“We’ll do that,” Dean smiled thinly, but he allowed Sam to pull him away towards the office. Sam gave him a warning look.

“That lady’s lucky I’m a gentleman,” Dean muttered. “Freakin’ old bag.”

She wasn’t that old, but Sam wasn’t going to point that out.

“Just calm down,” Sam whispered back. They squeezed into the closet-like office and went over to your desk, where Sam sat and opened up your laptop. It was password protected. He worked on cracking it while Dean surveyed your work desk.

It was very organized. Your notebooks were piled neatly with various pens and highlighters in their own container. He felt bad about this, but he looked through the drawers next and found an old picture. He had a feeling it was of your parents when they were young. It was even labeled on the back: Jack and Christine — November 1985.

“Sam.” Dean showed him the picture. Sam nodded, taking the hint. He thought for a moment, then tried Christine as the password.

It wasn’t a match…until he tried Christine85.

Then the home screen finally booted up. From there it wasn’t hard for Sam to get into your email so they could find your full name. Next, he found your address from a PDF scan of a payroll stub in your documents folder.

“You’re too good at that,” Dean said. His guilt was growing; normally he would have no compunctions about rifling through people’s junk, but this was your stuff. They were invading your privacy to the nth degree. This is an emergency, he rationalized.

“There,” Sam said, after taking pictures with his phone. They knew exactly who you were and where you lived.

“How do you want to play this?” Sam asked, once he and Dean were on the road back to Sioux Falls.

“Let me handle this,” Dean said. It was a delicate thing. Their plan was essentially dropping in on you, whom he’d never officially met, after stealing your private information. Not to mention, you’d already gone through a lot in the past 24 hours.

Dean shook his head. “Let’s just regroup at Bobby’s. I’ve gotta think.”

An hour later, they were pulling into the driveway at Singer Salvage. Next to Bobby’s truck was a blue Camaro.

“I guess his niece dropped by again,” Sam said. Dean was curious, but that was quickly swallowed up by his ever-mounting problem: going to see you. How the hell am I gonna do this?

His mind was so consumed when they walked in, that he almost missed seeing Bobby’s guest in the kitchen.

You were sitting with Bobby at the kitchen table, drinking lemonade. Sam and Dean shared a curious look though, because you had a bandage on your left temple and scattered bruises on your neck and arms, but you still looked friendly, casually dressed in jeans and a soft college shirt.

Dean noticed your pretty face, the shade of your hair, your curves…but he narrowed in on the shirt. It read University of South Dakota.

His heart started to beat faster, though he didn’t realize it.

“Boys, this here’s my niece,” Bobby said. When you stood up and greeted them with your name, Dean knew it was you—the girl he’d practically been scouring the entire state for.

His brain caught up with his heart, which had already recognized you from the second he stepped through the door. Your name fell from his lips, and then your head tilted curiously, like you’d recognized his voice.

Finally, finally, the bond between your souls flared in his mind and warmed through his chest. You’d opened the connection again, and he felt your shock, your recognition, your wonder. Dean grabbed ahold of that pulsing thread of energy.

Hi, sweetheart, he said with a crooked smile. Except, you didn’t exactly have the reaction he was expecting.

You gasped and nearly dropped your drink.

All three men lunged to help you, but you caught the glass yourself. “I got it!”

You then set it down carefully on the table.

“What’s happening here?” Bobby asked. He seemed very confused. Dean couldn’t blame him. He only just now realized that Sam and Bobby were still in the room watching their little movie play out.

Bobby turned to you next. “You know Sam and Dean?”

You wiped your hands on your jeans, looking embarrassed. You gestured vaguely at Dean. “Well, just…kind of…”

“Me,” Dean said, pointing at himself, then at you. “I’m…we’re…”

Because Bobby was smart and intuitive, his face slackened in realization. “Hells fuckin’ bells.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded with a smile.

Meanwhile, you and Dean took each other in. Slowly you approached each other from opposite sides of the room.

Your gaze fell to the cut on his hand, which he’d bandaged up last night.

“Are you okay?”

Dean gave you a rueful look. “I’m the one who needs to ask you that.”

Your eyes lowered as you bit your lip. “I’m fine.”

Dean would be the judge of that. He drew close enough to examine the gauze bandage on your head. His hand raised to ghost along the bruises on your neck. It stirred his protective, righteous anger again, but he did his best to put a clamp on it for your sake. You were a scrapper, a survivor, and for that he was proud of you.

“Are you in pain?” he asked.

“The meds work just fine,” you said with a smile, but it soon fell as you chanced looking up at him. Dean looked into your eyes for the first time. They were beautiful, but sad and contrite.

“I’m sorry for shutting you out,” you said.

Dean huffed. “Yeah, that wasn’t pleasant.”

Behind him, Sam snorted and gave his brother a pointed look, which Dean ignored.

“I know. I was just…scared,” you admitted, gesturing with a hand to your injuries. “I didn’t want this to be the way we finally met.” 

Dean could understand that. He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Still, can we keep the heart attacks to a minimum?”

You smiled again, and it reminded him of all the times you’d teased him through his mental connection with you. “No promises.”

Then you stared up at him with more of that wonder on your face.

“What?” Dean quirked a smile. You were starting to blush; he could see the faint pinkness spreading across your cheeks.

“You’re…tall,” you said.

Dean grinned. “Just tall?”

You crossed your arms in amusement. “And other stuff.”

“Yeah, that’s nice. Poetry, really,” he teased. “Definitely uh, putting that college stuff to good use.”

Sighing a laugh, you covered your face with a hand, fighting further embarrassment. It made Dean chuckle.

“All right, just teasing,” he said. “No need to hide.” He bypassed your hand to prop a finger beneath your chin so he could see your face. You met his gaze, waiting somewhat patiently while he looked you over. He could feel the heat rising off your cheeks though, and his smile deepened. You were adorable, and all too easy to tease.

But you were also beautiful.

Without really thinking about what he was doing, Dean found himself leaning down to brush his lips with yours—

Until your voice stopped him. “I, um, have to go. Take a shower.”

Your eyes were wide and somewhat nervous. Dean backed off, cursing inwardly at himself. His hand fell from your face.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Need help?”

Your lips fell open in a soft “o” shape. Once Dean realized what he’d said, shock gripped both of you.

“Up the stairs,” he clarified. “The shower’s upstairs.”

Behind him, Sam made a pained face—like he was watching a car wreck and couldn’t stop. It made you smile, despite your lingering embarrassment.

But for Sam, he’d never seen his brother tripping up this bad over a girl. Usually he prided himself on being “Señor Smooth” (Dean’s words, not Sam’s).

Meanwhile behind you, Bobby rolled his eyes at you both.

“Sure, thank you,” you said.

You took Dean’s hand as he led you up the stairs. Maybe you shouldn’t have been trying to climb stairs with a concussion, but the pain medication really was helping you enough to be functional. Besides, Dean was supportive and went slow to help you.

When you made it to the top, you let go of Dean’s hand to grab your bag of clothing from the guest bedroom. When you came back, Dean was still waiting outside the bathroom with his hands in his pockets.

He really was tall, you thought. His grip while helping you had been gentle, but you’d felt the strength in his arms. You knew he wasn’t going to let you fall.

There were so many things about him that you hadn’t expected. His green eyes and sandy brown hair, his boyish, charming smile, his confident swagger, his lips…

“I’m sorry for putting Sam out of his room,” you said, mostly so you would stop staring. Dean rubbed the back of his neck.

“Nah, Sam’s like a dog. He can sleep anywhere,” he said. “On the floor, even.”

You laughed, though you tried not to at Sam’s expense. Dean smiled at the attempt.

“So, you’re Dean, the traveling exterminator,” you said.

His smile kicked up into a smirk. “Guilty.”

Your lips curved, a bit shy, but also a bit mischievous. He had spent a long time playing games with you. Now it was your turn.

You leaned up toward him on the tips of your toes, so you could reach his lips. With a raised brow, his body bowed towards you.

Once your lips were just a whisper away from his, you stopped.

“Good,” you said simply.

And you closed the bathroom door in his face.

AN: Okay, so an action-packed chapter for ya. And yay, they finally meet! Dean also encounters the infamous Dr. Birch, Jody Mills makes a brief cameo, plus Sam being a supportive brother.

One thing I want to note, in case people have questions about "Jess not being Sam's soulmate" here. I just really couldn't do that to him (losing his soulmate in his 20s on top of everything else). It was really so I could keep things open for Sam, not anything against Jess as a character.

That being said, let me know what you think about the first meeting!

To keep reading: PART 6

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[mythiccheroacademia]

— what you fight about (pt.2)

𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟙

𝕙𝕠𝕥 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕤: 𝕚’𝕞 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕪.  𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕪'𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤. 𝕒𝕝𝕤𝕠 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕨𝕠 𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕡𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣’𝕤 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕔𝕜 <𝟛 𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: 𝕥𝕠𝕩𝕚𝕔 𝕓𝕖𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕣𝕤/𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡𝕤, 𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕒𝕥 ℙ𝕋𝕊𝔻, 𝕒𝕟𝕩𝕚𝕖𝕥𝕪, 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕪 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕗𝕗 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪’𝕣𝕖 𝕦𝕡𝕤𝕖𝕥 :/

Tamaki Amajiki:

you love everything about tamaki

all his faults and his strengths

but sometimes…it feels like you’re the only one keeping it together

and to always be the strong one is hard

It had been a difficult two weeks since your last mission.

Perhaps you were naïve to believe you wouldn’t experience a death any time soon. However, you had been bright and hopeful. The hero you worked as a sidekick for rarely got involved in super-high level threats. You dealt with misdemeanors and a few moderate-sized threats.

Maybe you were being stupid. Nevertheless, the tragedy hit you hard. Both physically and mentally.

You were out until you could safely use your quirk again. In the meantime, your fiancé had done all he could to take care of you. But he was worried.

Tamaki couldn’t help but panic. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you better. Honestly, he wanted you back to normal. He just didn’t know how to do it. You were always the strength of the relationship.

He felt so pathetic over his inability to help, spending hours on the phone with Mirio and Neijre crying over the issue. Afterwards, he’d crawl into bed, cheeks wet with tears, and despite your sadness, you’d wrap your arms around him.

You’d comfort him like you always do and it’d make him feel even worse.

You knew he was trying his best and appreciated that. Though, there was a point to which it all got to be too much for you to handle.

Mirio and Neijre came over to help put up some Christmas decorations. You wanted to cancel. Today hadn’t been a good day. However, Amajiki began to worry over your mood again and so you held your thoughts to avoid his tears.

But it seemed like your tears were the ones you should’ve been worried about.

You sat down on a chair and held your head. The world was spinning, and your ears were ringing. Your eyes burned so badly you felt they’d melt out of your head.

“Bunny!?”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed. “I just need a minute.”

“What can I do?” Tamaki rushed to kneel beside you, fear shining in his glossy eyes.

You shook you head balling your fist near your lips to keep in a cry. “I’m fine, baby,” you sniffed, but that was a lie.

Your head was swimming, buzzing, and filled with nothing but noise. No matter how hard you tried to make it go away, you just couldn’t. You couldn’t deal with that or—

“I-I’ll take care of you. Just p-please tell me what to do!” he begged. You could feel his anxiety seeping into your body and it nearly sent you over the edge.

“Tama, please.”

“I can—I can do something. Anything. Anything you want. An-and—"

All you could think about was how you failed the mission, the girl, her parents, your team, your friends, the public, and—

“Amajiki.”

“B-bunny, I know I haven’t been a good fiancé l-lately, but I-I promise I’ll—"

“AMAJIKI!”

Tamaki jumped, eyes wide and body frozen as he took in the near panic in your eyes.

“I CAN’T—” your voice was shrill before you hiccupped, choking back a sob. You squeezed the air by your head, hoping to ground yourself to something that wasn’t there.

“I just can’t deal with you right now, okay? I-I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Your breaths left in puffs as you silently watched his mind work to process your words, and when it did, you saw his heart visibly break.

He grabbed his hand to cradle it into his chest like it was wounded. When he spoke, it was barely a whisper, not even a decibel above faint.

“N-no, it’s…I—I’ll give you some space.”

He tried to offer a brave smile, but it wobbled too much to do anything. The tears that ran down his cheeks seemed to suffocate him, and Tamaki couldn’t bite back his cry in time before he quickly left the room. Mirio worriedly gazed at you before running after his friend.

Your eyes remained transfixed on the space where your fiancé once stood. It wasn’t until moments later, when you felt Neijre’s comforting hands around your torso, that you doubled over and wept.

Togata Mirio:

he’s optimistic

too optimistic sometimes

you love the light he brings into your life

but it’s at the cost of him dismissing your feelings and worries

You checked the backseat when the car stopped at the red light to ensure your sleeping son was still there.  

“Two minutes and 20 seconds. That’s a new record babe,” Mirio chuckled.

“Very funny.” You threw an unimpressed glare at your husband before turning back into your seat. “But can you blame me? After the heart attack I had this morning, I wanna chain him to my chest and never let go.”

The blonde hero hummed thoughtfully. “That’s only slightly psychotic.”

“Mirio.”

“I’m kidding!”

You huffed and looked away. You were a bit annoyed over the nonchalance your husband seemed to have over what occurred today.

Your son had presented with a quirk and, to your horror, it was similar to Mirio’s—if not even more dangerous. When you came back to find your baby fading away before sinking into the ground, you screamed like murder.

Mirio had never phased into a room so quickly in his life.

After getting both you and your kid (mostly you) to calm down, you went straight to the hospital to make sure everything was still intact. They gave you some quirk inhibiting medication for your kid, a quick pep talk, and you were on your way back home.

The hectic morning made your son knock out as soon as he hit the car seat. You wanted to follow suit but were too paranoid to do so. In fact, you wanted to hold him—just in case. But Mirio insisted the medication would hold him until you got home. Then he cracked a joke about your kid turning into tumble weed and laughed like it was the funniest thing he ever said.

And he kept making jokes. Like this was funny.

Forget annoyed. It was pissing you off.

Mirio peeked a quick glance over your stiff figure. A small grin graced his lips, and he placed a comforting hand on your thigh.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I know you’re scared. I’ll chill with the jokes. Just promise not to blow a gasket on me, will ya?” he smiled.

You averted your eyes away from the moving tress to look at him well. “You could take this a little more seriously, you know?” you said.

“I assure you, I am 100% serious.”

He couldn’t even say that with a straight face. You rolled your eyes, groaning into your head tilt.

“Ooou you get on my nerves—”

“Sunshine, it’ll be fineee,” he happily assured. “It’ll just take some practice before [S/N] gets control of it.”

“[S/N] literally turns invisible before he permeates through surfaces. That’s so scary. I can’t do anything for him unless you're there and even then, that might not always work out. We need to figure something out.”

“His quirk is really not too far from mine. And you remember all the funny things that happened when I was a kid.”

You incredulously looked at him. “Yeah, all the funny near death experiences!”

“And I turned out fine!” Mirio laughed.

You wanted to rip your hair out. There was literally no getting through to him.

“Forget it. I don’t even know why I bother.” You scooted away from his hand, crossing your arms in frustration. “It’s not like you take my feelings seriously anyways.”

That last part was meant for your own ears, however Mirio heard them loud and clear. He turned into the neighborhood, brows subtly scrunching together.

“Now that’s not true. I care about that a lot actually.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Well that was not the answer he expected.

There were a couple minutes of uncomfortable silence before the car reached your garage and was turned off. You two looked forwards for a moment before someone spoke.

“I feel like we should talk about this,” Mirio slowly said, turning to watch for your reaction.

You gave him a glare that caused him to goofily purse his lips. You then got out of the car and went to go unstrap your son so you could hold him until the events of the morning faded from your mind.

As a last resort to make you smile, Mirio permeated his torso through his seat to give you the cheesiest grin.

“I love you, honey bunny~” he sung.

To which he earned a car door slammed in his face.

Dabi:

he’s selfish

you know it and he does too

yet you still stay around because you love him

but it seems like he couldn’t care less about whether or not you do

You impassively sat on the couch of your small apartment. Your hands were folded across your chest, teeth chattering against the raw skin underneath your nail bed. For a minute straight, your knee bounced in place before you stood up and took to pacing in order to release the energy bubbling in your chest.

It felt like hours before your apartment door opened.

Dabi threw his keys onto the closest surface and shrugged off his heavy jacket. You didn’t realize you’d moved before you took the jacket to hang on the wall.

“It’s cold as shit out there,” he shivered.

“Yeah, there’s supposed to be a blizzard sometime soon,” you replied, yet it sounded distant. However, Dabi didn’t seem to notice.

“Can’t wait,” he huffed. A mischievous glint grew in his eyes as he pulled you into his chest by your waist. Usually that would’ve made your thighs tense with anticipation. But all you could do was stand there like dead weight—and again, he didn’t notice. Did he ever? “But I guess it won’t be too bad if I have you to keep me warm, hm?” he smirked.

You stood stiff as he kissed your lips and tears burned your eyes as he moved to your neck, hands affectionately squeezing your hips. The bubbles in your chest rumbled and popped like angry bees when you realized he hadn’t noticed. He never noticed it. He never noticed anything about you. Just like he hadn’t noticed—

“Dabi, what day is it?”

His lips continued to pepper your skin with licks and nips, mindlessly working to find your sweet spot again. “Mmm…Thursday, sweetheart.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I am too.” Dabi looked up and met your stone cold face that looked angrier by the second. He quirked a brow. “What’s up with you?”

“It’s our one year anniversary, you asshole.”

You pushed him away, stomping towards your room. However, Dabi grabbed your arm, pulling you back into the conversation. But instead of hearing an apology, you received an inattentive eyeroll.

“Don’t be like that, doll-face. It’s really not that deep.”

“Excuse me?” you spat. “You said the same thing ever since our 6 month and I let it go, but now you wanna act like this isn’t a big deal? You know how much this means to me.”

“And you know that’s not my style. I don’t care about shit like that.”

“Well I do.” You moved out of his grasp and put distance between yourselves to help you think.

Dabi ran a hand through his hair, stress in his movements. “Are we really gonna do this right now, Y/N?”

“Yes! Because you don’t get it!”

Fed up with the argument already, Dabi threw his hands in the air, letting his frustration carry the words through his lips. It had been an awful day, his staples were aching from the weather, and this was making everything worse.  

“I already missed the damn thing, what do you want me to do!? You want me to say I’ll make up for it?”

“I want you to care, Dabi!” you desperately exclaimed. “I want you to care about me, about this relationship. Damn it, I want you to care about anything else besides what’s in my pants for once in your life—”

“Well that’s all I wanted until you started asking for more shit and I gave you that. What more do you want from me?” he sneered.

There was a silent pause between you two. You blankly stared at the man you’d come to love despite the hell he put you through. When you observed the honest irritation in his eyes, everything became clear. It was in that moment you realized it wasn’t that he never noticed. It was that he didn’t care. He never did.

That’s when you felt the deep ache of heartbreak nestle between your lungs.

“What more do I want from you,” you repeated, tasting the words. You numbly laughed and nodded your head, silently accepting his truth.

There were no tears, just bitter emptiness.

“Well, uh…you don’t have to worry about that anymore. You won’t be roped into another anniversary with me again.”

It was a moment too late when your soft whisper broke through the angry storm that clouded Dabi’s head. His face sunk with the exhaustion of a man well beyond his years.  

“Y/N, baby, can we just talk about this—"

“Leave the spare key on your way out.”

And before he could utter another word, you shut your bedroom door like it was never to be opened again.

[tickle-bugs]

Time and Time Again

Summary: Mobius knows everything about Loki. It makes him a great analyst, a ruthless interrogator, and a crafty, mischievous bastard. Loki’s a little proud. 

Edit: Now with a loose sequel, In Fond Memory, that’s just as ridiculous and covers the origin story of Loki’s eigth rib.

Spoilers for Loki up until episode 4! Do not tag this as Th*rki. 

To cut himself some slack, Loki’d been far too furious at their first meeting to process Mobius’s subtle threat. Or his audacity. 

“You know nothing about me.”

“Au contraire, my stabby friend. I’m somewhat of a Loki expert around here.”

“Let’s see. Loki Laufeyson, a Jötunn raised on Asgard, one of the black sheeps of the family but not quite the worst.” Mobius slapped open an absurdly thick file and thumbed through it.

“Any fool with a textbook would know--”

“You hate spinach with a passion--it leaves a weird film on your teeth and the texture drives you nuts. You pretend to hate dogs but you love ��em, you’re actually just scared of cats. You’re stupid ticklish on your--” Mobius squinted at him-- “eighth rib on the right side, though I’ll admit I don’t know why. You have a raging sweet tooth, you love acting—no surprise there--”

“Enough,” Loki scoffed, pushing down sharp flares of fear. 

“I know you, Loki. Inside and out. I’m interested in you telling me what I don’t know.” Mobius leaned on the table, crowding lightly into Loki’s personal space. 

“I’m going to burn this place to the ground with you in it,” Loki snarled, and if he’d had his knives, Mobius would’ve been a pin cushion. 

“Feisty. I like it. I have a feeling that you and I are gonna get along swimmingly.” He poked Loki in the chest with his pen a few times. The last touch caught more ribs than chest and Loki swatted the pen across the room.

………………………………………..

Again, in the library. This one should’ve been more obvious, but he blamed the nap. 

Loki didn’t know when he’d drifted off, but the warm pliancy of rest made him believe it’d been a few hours. He was riding the upward crest of his nap, head poking just above the surface of sleep, and the world around him came to him in muffled, warbly waves. He shifted slightly, willing himself back down into the depths, because he was having a rather lovely dream--

Something scratched along his ribs and he jumped, slamming his knees into the table. Awareness flooded his brain and lungs as he processed his surroundings. 

Library, right. Variant hunting. Time salad. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya. I found somethin’.” Mobius retracted his hand. His grin was nowhere near apologetic. 

‘What did you find?” Loki cleared his throat. 

“Is it really that bad?” He chuckled, scratching one gentle finger over the spot. Loki twisted in his chair and giggled, bright and bubbly and embarrassing. Mobius’s eyes lit up. 

“Mobius.” Loki’s cheeks burned pink. 

“Alright, alright. I’m gonna find out one day, though.” That easy, practiced smile bloomed over his face, like throwing a tablecloth over the very obvious shape of a dark, burning curiosity. 

“What did you find?” Loki leaned forward, shielding his ribs with the table. 

………………………………...

Of all the warnings, the Time Cell should have been the greatest. 

After countless slap-and-kick combos, Loki’d taken to lying down on the ground, cheek to the cool pavement. It was better this way--Sif wouldn’t spend the effort hauling him up, she’d just kick his thigh and stomp on his back as she recited her ‘you’ll always be alone’ speech. Though his pride wept at the thought of her bootprint on his shirt, his balls were rather relieved to be protected from more Asgardian bronze kicks. 

He’d started to fall asleep between passes, which was kinda nice--it probably meant he was getting close to passing out, but a nap sounded heavenly to his aching muscles. Sif’s next kick barely fazed him--he grunted and slapped at her ankle as she gave her speech and stomped away. He could do this for a few more forevers. 

Two hands grabbed at him from behind, wiggling into his sides, and wow, what a wake-up call. Literally. He’d never sleep again. 

Air surged into his lungs and startled, high-pitched giggles burst out of him before he could form the thought to stop them. He curled up and hugged his torso, slapping away pinchy hands, and when he finally opened his eyes—

“...Thor?” Loki pushed himself up on his elbows. He was no longer in the courtyard, but in his bed within the palace, surrounded by the fine furs and silken green sheets that he’d so vainly curated as he grew up. 

His brother looked a bit younger, a bit livelier. His hair fell freely around his shoulders and face, brushing the silver of his armor, and the amount of memories that had started like this, with Thor grinning over him with an idea for a prank, was absurd. 

But Thor wasn’t smiling.

“You have something of mine.” Thor yanked him forward by the ankle and hovered wiggling fingers above Loki’s stomach. “You will give it back, whether or not I have to drag it out of you.”

Oh. Oh no. It was this memory. Shit. 

“Where’s my cape?” Thor didn’t let him answer, just clawed into his stomach until he shook with desperate laughter. He tried to crawl away but Thor flipped him over and pulled him back, vibrating fingers into the sides of his stomach until his elbows and resolve gave out. 

“Thor, waihihit!” His voice spiked into nose-scrunched, squeaky octaves before plummeting back down. He brought his knees to his chest, trying to keep Thor’s hands away, but that had never worked and never would. 

“Wait? Mm, I don’t think so.” Thor slammed one of Loki’s knees down onto the bed and held it there, scribbling his fingers across and around the cap, and Loki made a noise like a dying car engine. 

“I don’t have it!” He couldn’t for the life of him remember where he’d put the cape--he usually stole it to use as a blanket, knowing full well Thor wouldn’t wake him to get it back, but it was well and truly gone now. 

“I suppose you should find it then.” Thor pressed his thumb into his thigh, just beneath the crease of his hip, and Loki’s leg flew out on instinct. His heel connected with Thor’s jaw and he grunted, barely fazed, but the look in his eyes--

Uh oh.

“Wait! I’m sorry, really! You know that spot is--c’mon--Thohohor!” 

“First, you steal my things, next you kick me?” Thor growled, pinching his way back up Loki’s thigh, back to that accursed spot. He felt like a live wire. His brain’s panic alarms kept spiraling as all calls to his defensive magic failed. He so would’ve turned Thor into a hamster—no, wait, a frog. 

“I didn’t mean tohoho!” Loki covered his face, giggling vehemently into the heels of his hands. His own sincerity surprised him. He really...didn’t want to hurt Thor. Especially this one, in this strange, false second chance. Even through his mirth-squinted eyes, he could see his own lock of hair plaited proudly into Thor’s, tucked behind his ear for safety. Loki’s plait hid deep within his curls--the golden streak used to make him sick. Now, writhing under Thor’s hands? He wished he’d shown it off more.

Thor had never let him get away, not really. No matter how hard Loki shoved, unshakeable Thor stayed by his side. The last loved one standing. 

His laughter sounded foreign to his ears, but he let it happen. This was beyond embarrassing, sure, but it wouldn’t kill him. He’d take this over the Sif loop any day. Especially if it made this last. Especially...especially if it kept Thor smiling like that. 

“Where. Is. It?” Thor punctuated each pause with a squeeze into the muscle of his thigh and Loki shrieked in earnest, rocketing into cackles that quickly fell silent, then crescendoed back into fullness. Thor’s stupid meaty hands followed him everywhere. Each squeeze was a jolting shock directly to the brain, chasing away his coordination away from the controls with wet towel snaps to the hip. He had to do something and quickly, because oh no, Thor was looking for the nasty little spot just above the back of his knee, and that might actually kill him. He didn’t want to know what would happen if he died in a TVA cell. With his luck, Mobius would orchestrate his Purgatory too.

“I-I’ll tell you!” Loki grabbed at Thor’s wrists and pulled, chest heaving and fluttering with little giggles. Thor’s fingers slowed, resting forebodingly on his thigh in an inner-outer death grip that would absolutely send him straight to Valhalla, should his answer not satisfy. He swallowed nervously, calling upon all the pleading tactics that Thor used to cave to in their youth.

Hopefully the puppydog eyes would still work. 

“Don’t be mad--” He ran a hand through his hair to tame it-- “But you can’t have your cape back. It’s on loan.”

“Loki.”

They no longer worked. Great. 

“Nono, pleahahase!” 

“Where is it?” Thor’s fingers massaged deep into his thigh, then into his calf, and Loki nearly kicked Thor again. 

“I don’t know!” He slammed his head back into the mattress, arched spine at risk of snapping. He cackled himself into silence. 

“Maybe I can jog your memory.” Thor moved his hands to hover just above Loki’s ribs. 

“No! No, wait. It’s not what you think.”  Loki’s lungs entered a panicky cycle of giggles and quick breaths as he stared at Thor’s hands. 

“Well? I’m waiting.” 

“There was a boy…at the market. He was cold--I’d never seen a child so frail. The guards wouldn’t let me bring him to the palace without alerting Father, so…” The memory came to him slowly, warmly, and he huffed. Feeling so loathed and alone himself yet seeing a child—a child—suffer worse? The fury he’d unleashed that day had fundamentally altered him and Asgard’s court—he personally prowled the rundown sectors and brought food and blankets for the poor, and a section of the throne room was still frozen solid to this day from his outburst about Odin’s callousness. 

“You gave him my cape?” 

“He wouldn’t stop gushing about you. At the time, I figured some merchandise would shut him up.” He shrugged. He hoped the boy was alright. 

“You have a soft center after all.” Thor poked Loki’s stomach. Loki swatted him away. 

“No, I don’t.”

“Sure.”

“I don’t.” 

“Mhm.”

“I do not have a soft center. I was tired of his incessant yapping.” Loki stood, crossing his arms. He tried to stare Thor down—tried being the key word. 

“Of course, yes.” Thor grinned. 

“Thor.”

“No one’s arguing with you! I completely agree.” Thor shoved him back onto the bed by his shoulder. Loki laughed as he bounced. 

“Hey, Thor?” 

“Yes, Loki?” His tone was slightly mocking, but no malice rested in his eyes. 

“You’re...I…” Loki sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t ever change.”

“Whatever you say, brother.” Thor smiled, disappearing into the corridor outside Loki’s bedchamber. 

“Well, wasn’t that sweet? I thought you hated him.” Mobius strolled in, hands on his hips. Loki jumped to his feet, hands twitching at his sides on instinct. He couldn’t summon his magic, he knew, but it was worth the try. 

“Let me out.” 

“I was really banking on your pride kickin’ in back there, but I guess Thor was right. You do have a soft center, under all the lying and backstabbing.” Mobius put his hands in his pockets, all smug posturing, and Loki forced the bubbling levity within him back into its proper cage. 

“I do not.” 

“Newsflash: it doesn't matter. I’m gonna get what I want from you, one way or another.” Mobius cracked his knuckles, and Loki grinned savagely. Pain, he could handle. There was nothing Mobius could do to him to get to him, especially if he was so desperate as to stoop this low. Mobius was petty, crafty, just as much of a cockroach as Loki, but he wasn’t a killer. 

“Do your worst. We shall see which of us stands victorious, but it will be me.”

“Okay, tough guy. You wanna dance? Let’s dance.” Mobius shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over one of the chairs in his room. He did some stretches, dramatic as ever, and Loki snorted. 

All humor fled him when Mobius approached, fingers wiggling, a sinister grin on his lips. Loki backed away, hands raised, as Death breathed down his neck. His nerves fluttered at the promise of the one thing that would never fail to undo him.

He really couldn’t catch a break, huh?

“Wh--no. What? Nonono, please--“

A foreboding beep! sealed his fate. His body came to a shuddering crawl as the TVA collar shoved him deep into a quicksand pocket of time. He watched Mobius pace up to him, taking the time to boop his nose like the folksy dope he was. 

“Remember this lil doodad? You’re gonna feel everything, real time, and I barely have to lift a finger. Real nifty.” He pocketed the golden controller with a smile. “Now, where to start? I’d ask you for suggestions, but you seem busy.” 

Mobius flexed his fingers like he was preparing for a concerto, then played his opening note: smooth, dextrous flutters across his neck. Loki wanted to crawl out of his skin--he tried to, actually--but he was stuck fast. His very thoughts moved like molasses, impulses crawling through the sludge of time to reach his brain. Squeaky, choked giggles spooled back into his mind, lacking any other outlet, and drowned out rational thought. 

In his mind’s eye, he was up against the wall with his shoulders shoved up to his ears. In his present hell, he hadn’t even finished scrunching from the first tickle yet. Mobius kept jumping between sides, herding his time-dampened form like a tortoise across the road. 

“Alright, let’s speed you up. This is a bit much.” Mobius twirled the dial on his control and the grip of time loosened slightly. He was still wading up a rushing river, but at least he could fight the currents now. He managed to bring his elbow down in time to block Mobius from getting a hand under his arm, but he could only watch as Mobius grabbed a handful of his other side. It was almost worse like this, knowing that he could defend himself, but not in a way that mattered. 

“Oh, nearly forgot! There’s another mode I like. You’re gonna love it.” Mobius grinned. Another ominous beep! and Loki dropped back into the normal flow of time, shoulders shaking with residual laughter. Something about Mobius’s visage shifted, a slight flash that he didn’t quite register, and he furrowed his brow as his chuckles petered out. 

Loki was hit with the most unbearable tickle of his life, all within a split second. Invisible hands attached to his sides and squeezed, thumbs pressing deep into the slight dip of his waist, and his arms snapped down. Rapid-fire pinches covered his stomach at a machine gun’s pace, then zipped back up his sides. He gripped the bedpost nearest to him like a lifeline. 

“What--” 

The attack came again, stronger this time, and he crumpled to his knees. 

“Your laugh is cute. Not very godlike, though. I’d expect something more from the chest, y’know, like a ‘ha ha!’ Somethin’ like Thor’s laugh. But yours is cute. You’re all squeaky.” Mobius flashed again and Loki caught it this time: a slight warp in the space where he was previously standing. 

“What are you doing!--stop it!” Loki’s breath caught and little snorts marched out among the toe-curling giggles wracking his body. A flurry of pokes up his side sent him keeling over, hair splayed in a messy halo, and he curled like a pillbug on the floor. An earnest coo floated from somewhere above him.

“Neat, right? I can slow you down, I can speed myself up--seems like the only thing I can’t get you to do is tell the truth.” Mobius crouched in front of him and poked his stomach, then his sides, then his ribs, and something between a growl and a yelp burst forth from his chest. 

“Don’t touch me.” Loki slapped at his hands, glaring daggers through his soul. Mobius fixed him with something akin to light pity. A playful, panicky flutter started up in his chest at that. 

“I told you I was gonna figure out that rib, didn’t I? Unlike you, I make good on my promises. Stay still.” Mobius winked. 

Nevermind, this was the most intolerable tickle of his life, and it was in real time. 

Where Thor was clumsy and unfocused, occupied by a petty sibling squabble, Mobius was curious. His fingers--deadly accurate in their strokes--investigated every crevice of his ribcage like a critic appraising an artwork. 

“It was number eight, right? On the right side? One, two, three--” He started scratching, quick and ruthless, up the ladder of his ribs. The weak link of the bunch seemed to glow golden beneath his skin, advertising itself as the perfect target to Mobius’s hungry hands. 

The rib was a gift from a jealous ex, a sorcerer who’d bestowed him with an Achilles heel among godly durability in hopes the bone would snap and puncture a lung. The worst it’d done thus far was make him laugh so hard that he feared for his quasi-immortal life. It was ridiculous, really, that his ex got to win in such an absurd manner. 

And Mobius had warned him, plain as day. He’d practically advertised in neon that he wanted to figure out the rib. Only Thor and Frigga knew about it, no one else, yet Mobius had it written down in a file. The memory of his arrival came back to him, then the moment in the library, and a broken groan filtered out between peals of cackling. He was never going to live this down. 

Mobius’s barely-there touch had his diaphragm spasming in alarm and desperate, tumbling laughter. He wasn’t budging from that one spot, that stupid proverbial high ground that he had over the God of Mischief himself, and it tickled, it tickled, it tickled—

“This is fun for me and all, but I’m fresh outta patience and mercy,” Mobius growled, “Start talking.” 

“M-Mob—“

“You can do it, sound it out.” 

“Nohoho,” Loki whined, gripping his wrists. He couldn’t organize the scramble of his thoughts into anything coherent even if he wanted to. 

“Yes,” Mobius mocked, hooking his fingers behind Loki’s knee.

“A-Alright, I—shihihit!” Loki tried to shove him away with his foot but Mobius pinned his leg down, keeping his knee taut for gentle scratches behind it. He squealed, free limbs flailing wildly, and Mobius laughed. 

“The TVA is lying to you,” He gasped, all in one tumbling breath. They stared at each other for a long moment. Loki tried the puppydog eyes again.

“Oh, okay, so we’re still lying. Nice to see you’re staying on brand.” Mobius wormed his hands beneath Loki’s arms and he yelped, heels scrabbling for pointless purchase. 

“We’re running o-out of time!” Loki choked, twirling Mobius’s tie around his wrist to yank him closer. Mobius simply fluttered his fingers across Loki’s forearm until he squeaked and recoiled. 

“We have all the time in the world, Loki.” Mobius beamed at him and Loki found himself utterly breathless at the sight. The fated return of Mobius’s fingers to his ribs certainly didn’t help, though. Especially when he started grating his knuckles over the bones like a cheap xylophone.

“I wonder how long it’d take for a god to die of laughter. Now either you start talking, or I find out, and I don’t think you want that on your tombstone.” Mobius let his hands drift up and down Loki’s ribs, chuckling at the comical pitch in desperation every time his hands went back up. 

“Okay! I’ll talk! Ihihi--Mobius, pleahahase, I can’t--” Mobius kept twitching his fingers between Loki’s pleas and arcing lightning directly through his nerves. He turned over but Mobius flipped him back, pressing his fingers in again, and tears glittered at the corners of his eyes. 

“A Loki, begging? I never thought I’d see the day.” Mobius tapped along the rib in nonsensical patterns and Loki jolted violently at every impact. He put a revenge plot to simmer in the back of his mind. Mobius was in for it now. Loki was going to ruin him. 

“No mohore, please--”

“Alright, alright.” Mobius stood, brushed himself off, and offered Loki a hand. He scritched at Loki’s palm as he rose and Loki giggled sweetly before dropping into a glare. 

“I hate you,” Loki huffed, fluffing his hair back into some semblance of order. He waited until Mobius looked away to swipe away a few mirthful tears. Mobius smiled at him—that same warm smile that had Loki believing that maybe, hopefully he cared—and wiped some schmutz off of his cheek. 

“Yeah, well, if you’re lyin’ to me, you’re about to hate me even more. Let’s talk.” Mobius beckoned him with a sweeping gesture as the exit to the Time Cell reopened. 

[project-ohagi]

Atsuhiro Sako ღ Mr Compress x Reader:

[A/N]: This is a female reader, but I'm not sure how explicit my reasoning is in the story.

-----

Upon the desk lay flowers pressed and kept, accessories to the letters from which you couldn't escape. Surrendering them to earth or flame had been an endeavour of herculean proportion, and each time, your heart had wavered. How could such things be destined for destruction? In them, were written verses so impassioned by romance, that all who read them would surely swoon. And each flower had a meaning, for he understood their language like a scholar understands his discipline. Heliotrope was a declaration of eternal love and devotion, whilst a Red Camellia stood for love and passion. He gave you a Yarrow for lasting love, and a Honeysuckle for your bond. But, the final flower...you loathed to dwell on its meaning.

A Purple Hyacinth. It conveyed an apology, a mind fraught with regret...it asked for forgiveness, but how could you forgive a man of such iniquity? His reign over your heart had been plagued by deceit. But you yourself had been plagued by a graver poison, an ailment most foul, though the layman might stoop to call it love. It was love, but it was also pain and sorrow. Such desperate pain and sorrow.

Your tear-clouded gaze fell forthwith upon a letter.

My darling, your beauty could never be dulled by moonlight, and is only made more desirable by daylight. It yields to no force, natural or otherwise. It remains, and will forever. I will never tire of looking upon it, though for this, I admit I may be admonished. It is such a worthy distraction, but in my field, distractions are rarely tolerated. Know that I apologise with a sincerity that cannot be measured.

- A.S

He wrote with the grace and eloquence of a thousand poets, and at every word, you wept. You couldn't linger on them, although you wished to, or love's splendid doctrine would burden you with hope. But there was no hope, neither of reunion nor of replication with another. You were bound, loyal only to the memories of your lost love. He wasn't dead, but simply...gone. He walked out of your life so easily, as though the plot had, for aye, been beyond a hatchling. You understood nothing. You still felt so lost. Why couldn't love be straightforward? The despair, the dependency...

You clung to those letters, and the heartache they incurred.

Your lips seem a most desirable perch, and I would rest there for eternity, if you allowed.

- A.S

Beside that letter, decorated with the splashes of manifest sorrow, lay another, written by your hand. In the advent of your courtship, you had exchanged many, though of a much merrier tone. This one...he had never received it, for you had never sent it. By the hour of its conception, he was long gone.

I wanted to believe in you. But I was scared. I was so scared! What would they have done to you, if I was captured? How else had you deceived me? Had anything been true, or had I merely been victim to the folly of romance, of an ideal that could never touch reality? Why had you kept from me everything of importance? Why had you hidden your truth? I blame you, wholeheartedly, for my pain. But it was so hard not to apologise, when I'm sorry for everything. The day I lost you, I lost my world...I lost the part of me that made me whole.

- (Y/n)

His was a cowardly departure, unequivocally driven by fear - he had always taken such careful steps to ensure that home and work remained separate, never intertwining. But when all was revealed, he feared retribution, feared the consequence of his own duplicity. So rather than facing you, he fled. He understood the cravenness of the act, but it wasn't something he could help. Not when you finally knew the real him. His most authentic self, although a source of pride, could never be loved. You weren't of equal conviction. You had no dormant streak of villainy. You were so pure of heart, and so gentle of practice. You couldn't be tied to a liesmith, or force-fed a dogma of drivel. Atsuhiro had some morals, even if you were the only beneficiary. He couldn't have predicated your descent into this melancholy longing. Or, perhaps he hadn't wished to consider it. Had the thought chased away the mistress of somnolence, he never would've have been able to stave off his return.

But oh, he wished to return to you, to relive every shiver of romance...to not feel quite so alone. He couldn't, of course. Not given current circumstances, and with the near-decimation of an entire populace.

Deika City played host to his body, but his heart had never left yours. He missed everything - the eyes that devoted themselves to him, that giddy, love-struck smile when he first called your name, and the night you had thanked him for never forgetting it. He heard your name in every love song, and your voice on the wind. He saw your face on every woman, and on every lover, he saw the happiness that he had sacrificed.

May I compare thee to a Dahlia in full bloom? I assume you are familiar with this flower, as a perfect reflection of your grace and strength. Of the latter, that required to grant me access to your most genuine self...it is incomparable. You are incomparable. You are beautiful, and so unequivocally you. I will forever be thankful that you chose to share with me such delicate insight. I swell with pride at the thought of you, and I pray that one day, your mind will allow you that same feeling. You are more than deserving of pride, and of love for yourself. Until then, I promise to love and to cherish you, as if with the hearts of a thousand men.

- A.S

If a single hope, or a dream, could ever reach the stars, then the spirits of love would hasten to reconcile your union. But you were closed to astral influence, and knew nothing of prayers. His alone were inadequate. And although you beheld the same sky, although you gazed at the same heavens...you never found your missing pieces. The stars offered nothing but a torturous truth: that you would never find each other, no matter the breadth of your search.

Oh, curse the wretchedness of love!

[Word Count: 1063]

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

looking back at you - part i

Summary: Everybody talks about the terror, the calm, the longing in staring in the abyss. But nobody talks what happens when the abyss starts staring right back at you. Or, you’ve love him all your life and now you don’t know what to do. 

Pairing: Seokjin x reader

Warnings: This scene is heavily inspired by the scene between Laurie and Amy in Little Women (2019) although this story will veer off its course as we go on.  Notes: Short chapters for quicker updates is my jam. I love Seokjin and I’m finally writing for hiiiim.  Word Count: 1k *ish*

Everybody talks about the terror, the calm, the longing in staring in the abyss. But nobody talks what happens when the abyss starts staring right back at you.

You’ve loved Seokjin all your life. Have looked for, at, and after him ever since you’ve known him. You’ve looked at him with a sheer of innocence in your youth that eventually fell away when you grew older and learn how to desire. And your eyes began to stray from just his beautiful face but down to his chest, to the way his arm flexes when he lifts books for your mother, and to the way his thick thighs fills his breeches.

You’ve looked at him with naked desire and longing for more than a decade, it’s impossible he doesn’t know. And yet, he’s never looked at you with anything other than a passing glance, all his sight consumed by your brighter, whirlwind of a woman sister.

And for so long, you were angry. Angry at the world, at your sister, at the universe for making you less and putting you beside someone who makes you look even lesser. As a child, jealousy is your greatest flaw but it was negligible as many children’s flaws are but when nobody’s looking - and when had anyone ever bothered to look? - between your elder sister’s departure to Seoul, and your younger sister’s death, you’ve turned into a woman.

A woman with responsibilities. To secure a husband, to secure a future for the good of the family. And a woman with that lofty of a goal cannot afford to carry anymore of her childhood flaws. And so you’ve changed.

Away from the family that never saw you, from the sister that outshone you, and from a man who didn’t love you - you’ve changed, grown into your cheeks and filled out your dresses. Learned how banter with wit, flirt with your eyes, keep them hooked enough to come back, give enough push to tease but never to be admonished for it.

And with your own charms, wit, and beauty, now, you’re on the precipice of achieving your goal in the form of a proposal from another Mr. Kim. (“You’ve always known you’re going to be a Mrs. Kim,” your mother wrote, “you just never specified which one.” - ah but you did, in your prayers, every night, in every temple visit and in every coined toss in every fountain but that’s all for naught isn’t it?)

So, like everything else, of course, Seokjin comes to ruin it all. As he always does for you, and you, stupid girl you are - the one you revert to for him, with just one glance, one smile - allowed him.

“You’re being mean, Seokjin.” Childhood bleeds into your words and you completely miss the way his eyes flit to your mouth back to your eyes, and the sheer despair in what he sees in them. Your words a deflection to his earlier command (a plea, he wishes you could see) of “Don’t marry him.”

“Mean? How am I being mean?” he asks, his heart aching at the complete distrust in your eyes even when it’s not laid upon him but at his clavicle, as if you fear even just looking into his eyes.

When you were younger, you never thought of Seokjin to be capable of being anything other than perfect. He’s light, wit, beauty and charm made alive with every gesture of his beautiful hands, with every theatrical delivery of his woes.

But you know better now. After all, hadn’t it even been a month since your disastrous argument at the ball? Where he showed up drunk, heartbroken from a long-coming rejection from your sister, with two equally beautiful and bold women draped on his shoulders like ermine fur. Where he stared at you, surprised, as if he hadn’t made you wait for an hour. Surprised, perhaps, that you even showed up at all.

Younger Y/N would’ve cowered and wept at home, but you’re older now. Wiser. You know your worth and even if you love him - and you do, quite desperately, the type of love that consumes and threatens everything - you will not compromise on this.

“You— you can’t do this to me,” you say, and you allow yourself one small reprieve, a reminder of youth long gone and clutch the sides of your dress like a petulant child trying to keep their crying at bay, “Not now.”

Seokjin advances on you, purposeful steps eating away the distance between your heart and his and wills you to understand and allows a bit of his gentlemanly wiles fade away, “If not now, when? When you’re married to Namjoon? Is that when? Would you rather I stand witness at your wedding and protest in front of hundreds of people—“

“You wouldn’t—“

“I would,” Seokjin interrupts, his hands on yours pulling it to his chest, “I would for you.”

His heart cracks yet again at the distrust and suspicion in your eyes as you pull back your delicate hands, stepping back looking every bit of a woman you’ve turned into. “You lie.”

You turn away, and suddenly your dress is too tight and you heave out heavy breaths, stepping out of the shadow of the courtyard to where the sun lays its rays heavily. Underneath it, you are brilliant, shining and beautiful in Seokjin’s eyes, and he wonders how he’s missed it — how you’ve missed it.

You’re beautiful. So, so beautiful. 

Enamored as he was, he’s not prepared for you to eat up the distance between the two of you, your very presence suddenly so big and undeniable in his life.

“I…” you begin, eyes dry and voice steady, your aunt would’ve been proud. “I have been second to my sister my whole life. Second-born, second place, the spare daughter — what have you. But I will not be someone you settle for just because you cannot have her.”

If your sister is a whirlwind, then you are the sea, Seokjin thinks. And the two are incomparable, forces of nature but while he is nothing but swept into your sister’s world, you— you make him want to sail, and dive, and drown in you.

“Not when I’ve spent my whole life loving you.”

He wants to tell you, but as you turn away, hair glinting in the sunlight, steps sure and back straight, he fears that he has lost his chance.  

End Notes: I think this will be a short series, maybe 5 parts!  Hearts are appreciated but comments are gold. Let me know what you think and if you want to be included in a tag list!

[obliviouskind]

Confinement

---

The first time that he held his son had been in a room with an ocean view.

He’d arrived earlier than expected, that boy, and he had been smaller than anything Noboru had ever seen before. A low birth weight, thin arms and a chest which thrummed with a weak heart… they hadn’t known what color his hair would be until he was to turn nearly a year old and those light, wispy locks finally took on that pale blue tone of which only would be visible in direct, midday sunlight for quite some time still.  In his mother’s arms, he had been tranquil. Quiet and calm in a way Noboru never had thought babies could be. His wife had cradled their boy upon her chest, sobbing against his discolored skin as she begged for him to make a sound – to greet his mommy, his daddy, and give them just a good, short cry.

‘Daddy has prayed to have you, Cyrus,’ she’d wept, ‘so please, tell him you’re alright.’

Cyrus hadn’t cried. He hadn’t done much of anything at all.

Looking back, Noboru would come to wonder if the tears that Fauve had shed that day had been for the same reason as his – over the idea that their boy wouldn’t survive, and that his life would’ve been for naught – or, if the tears had been mostly for herself.  He had once asked her to bring him a healthy heir. Like a child, she had eventually reached out to him. Her husband, stood in his suit and tie after having left work only minutes before (he had missed it, he had, and there never would be another chance like it…) in hopes for… For something.

Forgiveness, perhaps.

For help.

He hadn’t known how to.  

When she had offered him his child with tearstained, flustered cheeks, to give him his chance, his desired heir to hold like he once had held his dying father, Noboru had done something that would come to haunt him for the rest of his life.

He had hesitated.

He had looked at the silent bundle in her arms, presented to him like the gift she thought that he was; and he had felt sick with animosity. With disgust. For deep down he knew that he had managed to take something from her that he never could give back, and that that… That, was wrong. It had never been his right.  He felt that she knew it, too, by the way her dark blue eyes swam.

‘I never should’ve loved you.’

Cyrus had been light in his arms, like a feather, almost, and Noboru had feared that if he wasn’t careful enough then he could crush him. Kill him. His son laid cradled against the crook of his arm, serene and discolored and oh so very, very small.

Then, Cyrus had cried. Heartily, healthily, all until he was back in his mother’s awaiting arms.

‘If I knew who you would become, then I never would’ve loved you.’

… The first time that Noboru held his son had been in a room with an ocean view.  It also had been the very last.

‘You’ve trapped me, Noboru. You’ve trapped me with him.’

He went back to work an hour later.

[mystic-kitten-writer]

Limerence [M] ︳33

Pairing: Zuko x OC

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

Rating: SFW

Words: 18300+

Notes: I’m finally finished! Thank you guys for being so patient with me - I can’t even begin to express my gratitude. I feel horrible for making you guys wait so long - so I’ll cut to the chase and tell you the good news! Due to the corona virus - my summer courses have been cancelled, so I’m no longer graduating this summer (no, this isn’t the good news) - but because of this, that means your beech gets to update more often! So I plan on dropping an update schedule for all my stories, and my goal is to update every week (alternating stories).

Next - I got an Ao3 account! A lot of people asked me to make one, so I did. I’m going to take this week to edit Limerence (the first few chapters min.) before posting my work on there. But now Tumblr and Ao3 will contain all Explicit chapters of Limerence! 

The next fun bit of news is the next update you’ll receive will be a double update for Limerence! I was going to end this chapter a bit differently, but my friends pointed out a few things - and they convinced me others wise. Because of that, I’m planning on doing a double update. I can’t go too in-depth with it without spoiling, but at least you guys have that to look forward to!

But regardless, please stay healthy and safe! Love you tons, take care~!

Masterlist ︳32 ︳ 34

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

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

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

“Eccedentesiast”

(Latin/n.) Someone who fakes or forces a smile when all they want to do is cry, disappear, or die.

~ Ying Yue Jiang ~

           There it laid, in my hands, glistening under the sunlight, the black onyx seemingly glowing. The dragon that was painted in gold looked beyond realistic; the red ruby protectively held in its grasp. The golden paint held pink reflections in the scales, each claw wrapped around the gem as if it were a newborn child – protecting it with its life.

           My finger trailed down the soulful image, feeling every ridge and divot engraved in the emblem. Anyone could feel the love, the power, in the illustration – how awe-inspiring it was. But I found myself stilling, the words engraved at the very bottom of the heavy seal mocking me.

           Imperial Consort of the Fire Lord.

           It was like a vice grip; someone squeezing my heart and causing my body to tremble. Since my official debut, and receiving this seal, I hadn’t once touched it. I was keeping it locked in my drawer for safekeeping. This mere chuck of mineral, the symbolism behind it, was beyond royal Fire Nation customs. My truest feelings…

           I could remember the butterflies in my stomach, the silly smile I bore as I took my oath that day. Zuko was delicately smudging the red paint on my forehead, the mark of the consort. A weak smile emerged on my face. Gosh, how flushed Zuko, and I was that day. Me unable to contain my nerves as we stood in front of thousands – declaring our devotion to each other.

           I already loved Zuko at that point; I was just too shy to tell him. Being near him, seeing Zuko happy and spending time with me was good enough. That day, I may have been nervous, but I was delighted - the happiest I had been in years.

           The seal slipped from my grip, falling onto the bed. My shoulder’s slumped, feet dangling over the edge, hands covering my face.

           I was selfish.

           I could still recall the way Zuko thrashed, his face twisted in pain, eyes teary as he clawed at his throat in desperation. I could feel the pain he was in, the fear, utterly helpless – a look I’ve only seen once, and that was when we were facing Yakone.

           Zuko was dying, right before my eyes, and I couldn’t deal with it.

           Everything happened so fast, and I could feel my hands starting to tremble. The image was still far too vivid, too fresh. I almost lost Zuko – no.

           I did lose him.

           “Yue…” a tender voice whispered out, a tone that could only belong to Aang. I swallowed back a sob, letting my hands fall from my face, trying to wipe all evidence that I was crying. Too weak to lift my head, my hands laid on my lap.

           Aang’s footsteps were soundless, and I could already visualize the way he was cleverly studying my sitting figure, trying urgently to read my mood. “Katara told me that Zuko is going to be okay; she induced him into a deep slumber to speed up his recovery, but…you saved him.” Aang spoke, and I noticed how clear his voice sounded, he was closer.

            “Thank you…” I muffled softly, running an unsteady hand through my tangled locks.

           Not even thirty minutes passed since everything went down, I hadn’t had time to change or clean my appearance, besides wiping my blood-stained fingertips. My hair fell in front of my face again, and I used the opportunity to wipe the rogue tear. I’m a complete disaster.

           “Yue…” Aang worried, but this time I felt his cool touch.

           His fingers caressed my face, tilting my head upwards to meet his sincere gaze. He was kneeling in front of me, the floor cleared of all the shards that once littered the bedroom floor. His face was pale, eyes round as he considered my figure. I saw the way his lips twitched, eyes shifting back and forth, trying to think of the right words.

           What to say, what to think, what to do.

           But what more could Aang say?

           What could be said about everything that managed to transpire in the last half hour that hasn’t been thought of already? My heart fastened in pace, mind spinning with the unknown. Why was the tea poisoned, who poisoned the drink– As if Aang could read my mind, a long exhale escaped him, pressing his forehead against mine.

           “I’m so sorry, Yue,” Aang breathed, his voice fragile – defeated.

           My bottom lip trembled, hearing the ache in Aang’s voice, his touch moving up my face so his thumbs could rub my temples. My body limped under his tender touches, head falling into his shoulder – a soundless cry leaving my lips.

           It was like he let loose to all of my thoughts, everything that tortured my mind manifesting into tears. I’m lost. I clawed at Aang’s mustard coloured robes, desperately seeking air. Every sharp gasp seemed to feed into the shivers, the anxieties and insecurities that haunted my mind, growing and swarming.

           Aang embraced my hunched body, bringing me closer to his own. “I-it’s my fault, Aang.” I sniffled, confessing the very thing that seemed to devour me. Aang cooed into my hair, his face pressed against my chaotic locks. “That’s not true, Yue-” he insisted, but I refuted his claim.

           “T-that tea was meant for me. If-if I had drunk it, if I had stopped Zuko-”

           “That would’ve been worse. You could save Zuko, but the reverse can’t happen.”

           “You don’t get it, Aang.” I wept, cowering away in frustration, to face him. His eyes were red and glossy as he stared back at me intently, mirroring the same pained expression that I wore.

           “You-you didn’t see the look on Zuko’s face. The moment he realized what I am.” I choked, struggling to string the words together. I wasn’t crying cause Zuko got hurt. Gosh, Zuko’s been through the spirit world and back – he knew pain.

           The tears that decorated my rose-coloured cheeks, they were tears of mourning.

           I may have saved Zuko, physically – but I lost him emotionally, mentally, symbolically. How could Zuko look at me, let alone love me? I was a monster – the very thing everyone was trying so hard to rid of.

           “You’re still you, Yue. Words can’t even begin to describe how much Zuko cares for you. How important you are to him, to us.” Aang blew, bringing me back to his shoulder to snuggle. I could feel his clothes dampening, but he didn’t complain once, preoccupied with easing my choked cries.

           I snivelled, pressing my eyes shut to stop the tears from overflowing - if only it were that easy. What about everybody else – Katara, Sokka, Suki, Toph? What are they going to think knowing what kind of monster I am? The words they lashed out the other day, they meant it, each and every word. It was only a matter of time they figured out what happened, what I had done if they hadn’t learned already.

           A Bloodbender – that is what I am, and there’s no running away from it anymore.

           Aang continued to rock me back and forth, dragging me out of the pits of my darkest thoughts, pulse slowing. He was buzzing softly as we swayed, feeling his lips sweeping my head. I found my body lazing in his embrace, nestling my head deeper in the crook of his neck.

           It was nothing like Zuko’s embrace, the sweet tune he often sung during our highs and lows. I bit my tongue to stop the wave of nostalgia from overwhelming me. I want Zuko, that’s all I want.

           I want us to be back in bed, laughing at our silly jokes, even if it meant accepting that terrible rate of two kisses per half hour.

           I snickered bitterly at the mere thought of our pointless banter from this morning. The banter that always rose whenever Zuko and I were left alone to our own devices. Meaningless talk that always had me bursting from happiness at the way Zuko managed to tease me mercilessly, a constant blush to paint my cheeks. The way he holds me close to his chest, our limbs intertwined – like two puzzle pieces coming together.

           Aang leaned back slightly, started by the sudden giggle.

           “What’s so funny?” He mumbled, and I drew away, wiping a tear with the back of my hand. Aang watched a tear escape my effort, the drop rolling down my stained cheeks. Without thinking twice, he tugged on his sleeve to dry it. “T-this morning.” I hiccuped, shaking my head with a sad smile, recalling the romantic moment that just took place.

           “Zuko said that I owe him two kisses per half-hour every time he keeps me warm.” I snorted, my gaze dropping to my lap, fingers twirling. “I-I told him no way, but now-but now I want nothing more but to give him those two kisses plus more.”

           Aang smiled sympathetically, hearing my confession, cupping my hands and bringing them to his chest. It was then I noticed how my hands trembled and the heat that Aang was radiating. It was nothing like the heat from Zuko, his natural, the fire within him.

           But regardless, feeling the warmth from Aang’s palms, spreading towards my own, had me mewling in delight. I was freezing, so used to having Zuko by my side, stealing his warmth like how Momo clung onto Appa for dear life. How did I survive in the Southern Water Tribe as long as I did without Zuko to warm me up?

           “I know I’m no Zuko…I don’t have the hard rock abs or long hair, or overall cranky attitude.” Aang spoke light-heartedly, testing the waters. And despite the tense mood, I couldn’t help but giggle at Aang’s words, a genuine giggle.

           Aang’s small smile shifted to a greater one knowing he enticed a laugh from me, letting his fingers intertwine with mine, placing them over his heart. “I’ll never be Zuko, Yue; no one could replace him. But he did teach me how to conduct heat, just in case, I have to warm you up for him whenever he can’t be beside you. Because trust me, Yue. There’s nowhere else Zuko would rather be than by your side.”

           A shy blush rose to my cheeks, hearing Aang say some of the sweetest yet cheesiest lines to date. Lines that only Zuko could manage to make somewhat non-cringe-able. But that was the magic of Aang; he always managed to change the mood in a flash.

           Wearing his emotions on his sleeves, Aang was never afraid to put himself in other people’s shoes, experience their pain, and empathize. This is why he’s the Avatar, and Katara is beyond lucky to land someone as sensitive and considerate as Aang.

           “Thank you, Aang…I-I-you accepted me the moment you saw me. You gave me a home, friends, a family. I owe you everything.” I said, voice cracking because it was true. If it weren’t for that faithful day, saving Aang, him insisting on a meal – I would've never been where I was now.

           But Aang merely shrugged his shoulders, letting my hands drop to my lap. “I lost my family, my Nation…I know how it feels to be alone. If it weren’t for Katara and Sokka, I don’t think I would’ve been able to grow, but now I have a place to call home.”

           “…Katara is home for you, isn’t she?” I timidly mumbled, and Aang smiled.

           “She’s my world.”

           “Zuko…he’s my home…but between you and me, he’s my universe.” I twinkled softly, and Aang chuckled. “You really had to try and one-up me?” he teased, his hand briefly scratching the top of my head.

           “I learned that from Sokka.” I peeped, a bit of playfulness arising from within me despite the melancholy that ran through my veins. “Of course, Sokka taught you that, make sure Katara doesn’t find out.” Aang muttered under his breath, trying to sound annoyed, but those were emotions seemingly foreign to Aang. He patted my head once more before dropping his touch.

           Our soft laughs died down, Aang letting his fingers trace over my own delicately as we sat in silence. Mimicking the way I usually outlined the natural lines or scars the littered Zuko’s palms and arms. Zuko…

           Zuko is okay; he’s in safe hands with Katara…and while I don’t know what was going to happen to us, I could get answers for something else. “Aang…umm…what did-what did the others say about, you know.” I whispered, shifting my gaze back to him.

           Aang’s easy-going expression flattered for a moment, letting out a conflicted sigh as he rubbed the back of his head. I spotted the look on his face, the same look when he was unsure as to what to say when he first entered. “It’s a …complicated.” He started, and I rose a brow at his words, not the words I was expecting to hear, let alone from him.

           “What does that mean, Aang?” I implored, clenching his hand anxiously. Aang’s mouth opened and closed, another great lament escaping him, fighting with himself. He doesn’t know whether or not he should spill.

           “Don’t worry about it, Yue. You have so much on your plate already-.”

           “But I do worry, Aang. I need to know. I’m tired of being left in the dark because people think I can’t handle the truth.” I pressured, and the look in my eyes must have spoken wonders because Aang broke.

           He pulled from my grip, scratching behind his head once again, a look of shame etched in his face. “I told them the truth. I told them that you used Waterbending to save Zuko.” Aang mumbled under his breath, his words nearly blending at how soft-spoken he was. My eyes narrowed, tilting my head in confusion. Told them…the truth?

           And that’s when it clicked.

           “You lied to them.” I gasped.

           “No, I told them the truth. Bloodbending is a form of Waterbending, is it not?” Aang stubbornly insisted, but even I spotted the doubt in his words. He didn’t even fully believe what he was saying to me. He sounded just like me, lying to himself about the truth – trying to convince himself more than me.

           I glowered, shaking my head as I twisted my fingers, “Omitting the truth is just another way of lying,”

           “But it keeps you safe.”

           I snorted, “They couldn’t possibly believe that, Aang. Waterbending wouldn’t have been enough to save Zuko. Katara should’ve figured that out by now-”

           “It’s easy to lie to the people who trust you the most.”

           It felt as if someone was twisting my stomach from the inside out – Aang doesn’t lie.

           Aang always tells the truth, but for me – he lied to everyone.

           My head hung low, biting my lips as I squeezed my eyes shut.“I’m so sorry, Aang-” I whimpered, the heaviness of the situation hitting me like a ton of bricks. He lied to not only his friends but the love of his life for me.

           He took advantage of Katara’s trust – all because of me.

           I was not only causing pain upon Zuko but now the people who I viewed as family.

           Aang cupped my face, forcing our gazes to meet. My amber coloured eyes met with his chocolate ones – a tenderness rooted deep in the stare. I found myself in utter awe, because despite it all, Aang still bore an amiable smile, dismissing my apologies with ease. “Some things must be done, and I know, in the long run, this is for the better.”

           I sniffled, “I trust you, Aang.”

           “Sokka, Suki, and Toph are working with the guards to figure out who did this to Zuko. We’re going to get through this together.”

           “Aang…what if-what if Zuko doesn’t forgive me?” I trembled.

           Just the thought of Zuko in the infirmary, hurt and in pain – at the mercy of the nurses and Katara made me feel sick. But the idea of this being the end of us after everything because of my greed. Because of my inability to be honest with Zuko took the cake.

           If only I were stronger if only I weren’t broken and a monster-

           Aang’s expression softened, ready to coddle me back to his chest, “Zuko loves you, Yue. Please don’t blame yourself-”

           A loud knock interpreted Aang’s speech, both us jumping at the noise.

           Whoever it was didn’t stop with a single blow, no – they were hasty and non-stop. Someone desperately wanted in. Who could it be? A guard, a maid? Aang tapped my cheeks appreciatively before rising to his feet.

           “I’ll get it.” He muttered, but I couldn’t help but notice how it failed to reach his eyes.

           There was a stiffness in Aang’s usual airy steps, much like when Toph used her seismic senses to feel. Aang wasn’t expecting anyone…he’s being cautious. I found my back straightening, brushing my hair as I observed the way Aang eased his way to the doors, the knocking lingering.

           His hand gripped the handle, leaning towards the entry and jarring it just a crack. My curiosity grew, slanting forward to see or catchword of who was so enthusiastically rapping away. Aang’s head popped out the room, and his body relaxed instantly, a surprised squeak leaving him.

           “Ursa-” Aang spoke, and I froze in my spot.

           Zuko’s mom?

           No-no-no-no- Ursa’s going to hate me, tear me to shreds-

           My face paled, eyes unable to stop staring at how Aang stepped back into the room, his lips moving as he spoke. It was as if everything was happening in slow-motion. Aang opening the door wide with a smile, the commotion of outside out of mind.

           All I could focus on was the rush of red that entered.

           My nails dug into my thighs, wincing at the impending fury Ursa was undoubtedly about to unleash upon me. It’s my fault, my fault-

           “Where is she?” Ursa gasped, urgency lingering in her words. Her voice sounded winded like she ran here with all her might. My eyes widen, hearing her, unable to utter a word as I studied Ursa. She looked frightened, her face white, body quivering.

           I’ve never seen Ursa look anything less than put-together, the definition of royalty and beauty.

           She was a kind woman, with a sassy tongue, two qualities that the people in the kingdom adored. It didn’t take long for me to realize that Ursa was the definition of strongminded, something I revered – and one could easily find such a trait in Zuko. His will was something that both drove me up the wall and admired.

           But the look that decorated her face – it wasn’t the typical appearance she maintained. It was different, a sight I’ve never seen before.

           Her lavish ruby robes were wrinkled, her raven coloured-hair slipping from the golden pins that kept her hair tidy. She frantically scanned every inch of the bedroom in a matter of seconds, and the moment her vibrant eyes fell over me, her shoulders slumped, a choked sob leaving her lips.

           “You’re okay!”

           Everything happened so fast.

           She threw her arms in the air, tossing herself at me, and the sweet scent of flowers flooded my scenes. My body weakened in her arms, letting myself tumble into her embrace. The overwhelming sense of familiarity had me flushing, something I thought I would never experience again – a mother’s hug.

           “You’re okay. My child is okay.” Ursa repeated like a song, hands running up and down my back, making sure I was indeed real and not a figment of her imagination. Her gestures were dramatic, yet without a second thought, my arms enveloped her – how I missed this.

           “I’m so sorry, Ursa. It’s my fault; the tea was for me-”

           “Don’t blame yourself for the actions of others. You’re safe, and Zuko’s safe, and that’s all that matters.” She happily blubbered, and I could feel my heart flutter.

           The cheerfulness in her tone, squeezing the life out of me as she planted kisses all over my forehead. How many times have I seen Ursa do the same with Kiyi? Even with Zuko, much to his dismay. But the feeling of her peppering quick, chaste kisses all over my face had me rosy – a gesture bursting with the purest form of love.

           “If Zuko doesn’t propose to you the moment he gets better, I’m going to kill that boy.” She muttered under her breath, and I smiled through tears; tears, I had no clue I was even shedding. “I wish I could’ve been better for Zuko, done more for him, Ursa. I’m sorry-”

           “You don’t know, my child…you don’t know how much you’ve changed him. You saved him in more ways than one.” She droned into my ear, feeling her lips tugging upwards the whole time.

           I spotted the way Aang beamed from a distance, that signature smile of his painting his face as he shot me a thumbs-up. His mouth was moving the whole time soundlessly, a prideful ‘told you so’ lingering under his breath.

           “Lady Ursa, Zuko is currently in the infirmary, you can go visit him with Ying Yue. He’s sleeping, but I know he’ll love your support…” Aang proposed, and Ursa pulled back, nodding eagerly. “Thank you, Avatar Aang. That sounds like a wonderful plan.” she hummed while cleaning up my appearance.

           Ursa brushed the black strands of hair that kept falling in front of my face, tugging at a few tangles before straightening out the nightwear I wore. Ursa’s pink lips puckered towards the end, her eyes scanning my body up and down before clasping over my cheeks, “You’re running a fever, my dear.”  

           I was running a fever?

           Aang frowned hearing those words leave Ursa, scratching his beard as he walked forward, “It seems you pushed yourself by bending, Yue. We should get your chi checked by Katara-”

           “I’m fine- I promise.” I stammered, fingers twisting. The last thing I wanted was to be a bother when people should prioritize Zuko. I already caused so much trouble- “Oh, I swear, there are many things you can learn from Zuko, but stubbornness will not be one of them.” Ursa grumbled under her breath, and I coloured.

           “I promise, Ursa, I feel fine, just tired.” I lied, trying to make my speech chirpy with each word. My body ached the more I focused, head throbbing, and I knew it was because of the bending I just unleashed.

           I reached my limit, pushed myself too far…but what choice did I have? Between my bending or Zuko – the answer was clear. It’s just a matter of accepting the consequences.

           Bloodbending wasn’t a skill for the weak; it took years of practicing with Mom, healing animals before people. Even Mom got tired at the end of a busy day of treating so many people, Dad sometimes picking her up and tucking her into bed.

           “This isn’t up for discussion, Ying Yue. If you’re not the slightest bit well, we’ll never hear the end of it from Zuko when he arises.”

           “I promise, Ursa! There’s no need to cause a fuss over me.” I exclaimed, and Ursa simply rolled her eyes with a tongue-in-cheek smile. “Tell that to Zuko.”

           “Ursa-” I pouted, but before I could continue, Aang spoke.

           “Umm…my apologizes but-uhh-”

           Both of us turned to face Aang, whose brows were pinched together, a frown of concentration on his face. His hands were outstretched along the door, focusing. What was he doing? It was like he was trying to pick up on something. What could have Aang so bothered?

           “Aang…” I voiced, scared to startle him out of his stance of awareness, “What’s wrong?”

           “I don’t know, but I think someone is coming-no; people are coming.” He alleged, uncertainty lingering in his tone.

           But boy was Aang right about people.

           The ground felt like it was vibrating once he pointed it out, the sound of heavy footsteps moving together, getting louder and louder – like a swarm of bees. How did we not notice before? We were all so caught up in the moment, expressing ourselves that we failed to take in the obvious.

           Ursa frowned, my hands slipping from her grasp as she studied the door.

           “They’re here-” Aang warned, and once again, the sound of knocking resonated in the bedroom.

           Heavy and harsh – three solid knocks. With much hesitance, Aang stretched forward, opening the door wide, and I saw the way his face twisted to that of a stern expression. Could it be who I think-

           “Council.”

           “Avatar Aang. We’re here to speak with Imperial Consort, Ying Yue if you please.”

           Aang moved aside, tilting his head towards me, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. I gulped, staggered by the hefty sound of their footsteps entering the room – a room that was vast in size, suddenly feeling small with the number of people inside.

           Eleven people stood, some young, some old – but I recognized most of their faces from my debut. There were so many people I had met; it was only a matter of time faces began combining, names forgotten, despite Zuko quizzing throughout the day.

           And while they were most certainly not dressed as majestic as that day, they maintained an appearance of high-status, hair orderly, hands in front of themselves as their eyes settled upon me. I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious, understanding how I appeared.

           Despite Ursa’s effort to clean up my appearance, I knew I was less than presentable. If I felt like poop before, now I feel even worse. But it was the two elders that stood upfront that had me rising from the comforts of my bed, their presence reminding me of Zuko’s.

           Both elders had grey hair, the woman’s hair kept in a bun while the man beside her had his partly up, similar to Zuko’s go-to hairstyle for a casual workday. But the look on the man’s face, eyes tapered as he scowled. There was a wave of unspoken anger in his expression, noting that his knuckles were white from his fingers pressing against his skin.

           “Imperial Consort Ying Yue.” He said, no, more so hissed.

           The way my title slipped from his thin lips – as if it were a struggle for him to utter those words. Zuko said that four people voted against me. I fired one of them, so could this mean-

           “H-how may I be of service, council?” I spoke carefully, my voice cracking from bawling minutes ago with Aang and Ursa.

           The man merely huffed, chest-puffing hearing my voice. The display of discontentment caused the shiny emblem that decorated his arm to glisten under the sunlight that seeped into the room. Reluctantly, he cleared his throat, getting to the point of their visit.

           “As per Fire Lord Zuko’s wish and via Fire Nation customs, should he be unable to rule, power shall temporarily fall into your hands until he is well enough to assume his role. This ruling applies immediately.”

           Shit. How did I let such a fact slip my mind-

           “You are expected to be in a meeting within the hour. I hope you are well-versed and educated in such political matters. It would be a shame for you to make a fool of yourself during a time like this.” He snickered. Embarrass myself? He thinks that because Zuko isn’t with me that he can just walk all over me-

           “My son is hurt. My future daughter in law, the future Queen, should be spending her time with him, not in some meeting that can be postponed-” Ursa voiced furiously, but the man rose his hand, shutting her up completely.

           “With all due respect, you have no authority here, Lady Ursa.”

           “But I do, and I expect you to treat Fire Lord Zuko’s mother with as much respect as you do towards him.” I demanded, channelling my inner Toph as I marched forward. My arm outstretched before Ursa as if it could protect her from the complete and utter disrespect this man was demonstrating.

           I saw Aang’s breath hitch, sensing the pressure rising in the room, moving towards our side. The man’s eyes narrowed before bitterly kissing his teeth, forcing the fakest smile I have seen to date, and at that moment, it hit me.

           I do know him; he was with the man from the other day. He was one of the people who greeted us, although greet would be a bit of a stretch, when we arrived from Ember Island. He was there when I dismissed the councilmember; he’s one of the people who voted against me.

           “My apologies, Lady Ursa.” He spat, and I glared, my guard, rising. I can’t trust him.

           “I’ll be ready in an hour. See you at said meeting.”

           He merely nodded.

           Not bothering to show any more respect than necessary, he gave me a poor excuse of a bow, before twisting his body. Parading his way out, the others followed suit, an uncomfortable silence falling over them as they shared conflicting glances amongst each other.

           Yet as everyone trailed behind, one by one, the room growing spacious, the older woman who stayed by his side the whole time stood still. She bore a soft smile, a smile of comfort. The wrinkles that decorated her face were prominent, her eyes glistening under the lighting.

           “I wish for a speedy recovery for Fire Lord Zuko, Imperial Consort.” She sang as the room emptied to no one else but us. Her tone was light, reminding me of Aang in many ways. I saw Ursa’s body lax from behind me, shooting the lady a smile – they knew each other.

           “Thank you, umm…” I drew, pitch dropping, realizing I was ignorant of her name.

           “Ming. I never got a chance to introduce myself during your party.” She voiced gently, but the way she gazed at me. It was like she was reminiscing. As if she saw something that I didn’t - knew something about me, but not something necessarily bad.

           Who was she really? Why do I feel like I should know her?

           “Councilmember, Ming. I’ll see you soon; it’s a pleasure to meet you.” I spoke cautiously, unable to push the feeling away that she was important somehow. I wonder if she was on proper terms with Zuko? Her aura, it was unlike the man who was speaking before. It was like she was happy to see me.

           “The pleasure is all mine, Imperial Consort. Until soon.”

           She slowly left the room, and Ursa huffed inwardly as soon as we heard the delicate clicking sound of the door shutting.

           “I can’t believe the audacity of some of these councilmembers, insisting on meetings at a time like this.” Ursa fumed, patting down her dress in tune with her rant. The slaps against her dress were rough, slapping the wrinkles out of her gown – but also her growing frustrations.

           I saw the way her lips pressed tight, eyes watery as she raged, “We should be more concerned about who tried to hurt Zuko and you, not this.”

           Every word she spoke, her hands were starting to shake; it was like the reality that her son was currently unconscious was hitting her. Aang glowered, sensing the crabbiness coursing through Ursa. She’s worried about Zuko, the genuine fear of a mother unable to protect her son.

           She felt helpless, and I couldn’t help but relate to her on so many levels. Helplessness, uselessness – feelings that kept bubbling up from time to time, especially now.

           “We have people looking into the case, Lady Ursa. We’re going to get to the bottom of this.” Aang reassured, talking to her as evenly as possible. Ursa sighed in defeat, nodding along because while she knew Aang was right, that didn’t change the fact that she was facing a whirlwind of emotions.

           “I just don’t understand why Iroh can’t take Ying Yue’s position. This must be such a difficult time for you, and they were completely unsympathetic to the whole situation.” Ursa puffed, and I didn’t even realize what I was doing until I saw Ursa’s expression change.

           My hand fell over her shoulder, shooting her a small smile as I squeezed her shoulder. “I’m fine, Ursa. I made a vow to this nation, to Zuko, and I don’t plan on breaking that. It’s the least I could do for him…”

           “Yue…” Aang whispered, knowing very well what I meant by my works.

           The truth was that Zuko was unconscious because of me.

           I was beyond selfish to think that I deserved him; that someone like me, a low-life Bloodbender, deserved the happiness that I experienced from these past months with him.

           Zuko almost died because of me, because of my inability to accept the fact that I didn’t deserve him – that he deserved better. I can’t sit around and do nothing anymore. The least I could do is make Zuko proud, be the Queen he always thought I could be – even for a moment.

           “I can do this…I have to do this.” I mumbled under my breath, pushing back my self-destructive thoughts.

           Now was not the time to cry, nor to worry about the what-ifs of us. There were thousands upon thousands of people depending on me at the moment until Zuko can get back on his feet. I didn’t spend countless hours reading and studying for fun.

           Ursa smiled, her hand raising to caress my cheek. “I think I know what Zuko means when he says you have the spirit of a Firebender,” Ursa whispered, and I let out a small laugh.

           “I’m no Firebender, Ursa.”

           “You’re right; you’re even better. You’re a Queen, Ying Yue, Zuko’s Queen.”

           I can only try.

             “Are you sure, Yue? I can go into that meeting with you.” Aang insisted, matching my haste pace as we travelled through the long corridors.

           The sound of my heels clicking against the marble flooring, high-pitch ticks bouncing off the walls were crystal clear. A considerable contrast to Aang’s feather-like footsteps. Our pace was in sync with my pounding heart, head in pain as I struggled to focus on my steps. My trembling hands, fidgeting with the pins that decorated my hair, didn’t help.

           All the things that could go wrong in this meeting – where do I even start? I’ve never done a meeting this grand with Zuko by my side, let alone by myself. I wasn’t ready for something like this, not to this scale.

           Sure, I did meetings back at the Southern Water Tribe, but this was completely different. The sessions there were calm and lax – jokes and smiles present at all times. And Zuko never got a chance to teach me the current plans or developments he was working on because I was sick, I’m out of the loop entirely.

           My breathing quickened.

           Chest tightening, each breath a struggle.

           I can’t do this; I’m not ready. What was I thinking-

           ‘Just breathe, follow my lead’ I recalled Zuko whispering in my ear, his voice like dark chocolate. There was always a huskiness in Zuko’s tone, a raspiness that had me swooning, or in this case, giving me a sense of security. ‘That’s it, babe, slow and steady’ – I found my eyes fluttering shut, hands falling over my chest.

           The memory was vivid, his arms wrapped around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder. The way his chest rises and falls on my back whenever we embrace, greedily trying to recall every single moment in time where he hugged me. Completely engulfed by his presence, his firewood scent, warm touch.

           You always know what to say, Zuko, I want you here so bad.

           “Yue?” Aang worried, his hand resting over my shoulder, and I froze. We stopped walking, and I reddened realizing what I was doing. “S-sorry, Aang-”

           “Yue, you’re flushed. Ursa was right about your fever; you're burning up.” Aang sighed, letting his touch drop back to his side. I pressed a smile, fingers coiling in front of me as I tried to even out my breathing. “I don’t have a choice, Aang; I have to do this.”

           “No, you don’t. This isn’t right, Yue- we both know that. You’re not well, you pushed yourself, and the last thing we need is you passing out.”

           “Aang, this is my duty. I made a vow to Zuko. This is the least I could do for him. He depends on me for this.”

           Aang blew out exasperated, and for the first time in a while, I saw a look of pure fatigue sweeping. His shoulders were tense, gripping onto his staff, his hands turning white. He’s frustrated, not with me – but with everything.

           “Aang…” I whispered, letting my hand rest over his suffocating clutch. It was like he realized then how passionately he was grasping onto his staff, almost stopping his blood flow completely. “It’s only until Zuko gets better. After that, I’ll rest, I promise. But I need to do this.”

           “This isn’t fair, Yue. Why can’t you just be happy?”

           Happy. I shrugged my shoulders, “Because monsters don’t deserve to be happy, Aang.”

           “Yue-”

           “Imperial Consort Ying Yue! We wish Fire Lord Zuko a speedy recovery from his cold.” A bunch of maids chirped, causing me to pull back from Aang.

           My head whipped to the sound of their cheery voices, noticing all the huge smiles on their faces, the sunlight from the windows casting a heavenly glow around them. Cold- “T-thank you for your support.” I stuttered.

           Am I missing something?

           The maids giggled, nodding before bowing, “Take care of yourself as well, Imperial Consort, good day!” My mouth opened, to wish them a great day as well, but no sound left. What just happened…?

           “I forgot to tell you,” Aang muttered from behind, causing me to turn on my heel.

           I rose a brow, crossing my arms as I leaned forward. “Forgot to tell me what, Aang?” I asked, and I saw the way Aang’s gaze shifted back and forth as if he was fearful of other people eavesdropping. He linked his arm with mine, strolling towards the throne room up ahead.

           “Sokka said it would be better if we keep this assassination attempt under wraps.” Aang hushed, leaning towards my figure unsuspiciously. I tried to control my expression, hiding my look of surprise. That was not what I was expecting to hear.

           “You mean lie to the kingdom?”

           “We have to, Yue. If the kingdom finds out that someone tried to poison either you or Zuko, it’ll cause chaos. We need answers, and we can get those if the people who tried the assassination think they failed, which they did.”

           “So, everyone thinks Zuko has a cold.”

           “And I brought Katara here as a healer-”

           Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. Sokka, you genius.

           I shook my head, noticing the grand doors at the end of the hallway as clear as day. Two guards stood at their post, holding on to their weapons, still as a statue. The throne room. My teeth dug into my lips, fighting to urge to turn on my heel and run back into the securities of my bed.

           But a dry cough that echoed down the hallway had me squinting. The same grumpy councilmember from this morning was standing in front of the throne room, near the doors and just out of sight.

           His arms were crossed, a bitter smile on his face as he stared down at us.

           A cold chill ran up my spine, watching the way he held his head high.

           But, just like that, he turned on his heel, entering the room. Why does it feel like everyone hates me in this kingdom?

           “I can go into that meeting with you, Yue.” Aang mumbled into my ear, and I sighed. “I’m fine, Aang. It’s just a meeting, what’s the worse that can happen?”

           Aang frowned, leaning against his staff with a raised brow – as if I was really asking such a stupid question. “A lot. There’s a reason why Zuko didn’t want you to get involved. Even with most of the councilmembers hand-picked by him, there are still a few who he’s itching to dismiss; he just can’t without a proper reason. You managed to get rid of one.”

           “Only three more to go.”

           “Be careful, Yue. That’s all I ask.” I nodded, sharing a soundless stare. Aang bowed his head, and I took a deep breath – a mutual understanding.

           Let’s do this.  

           I patted my dress down, shaking out any creases in the gown I wore. I didn’t even have time to admire the beauty of the fabric, too anxious to appreciate the exquisiteness. With much reluctance, I turned my back to Aang, slowly inching my way to the throne room.

           Straight into the lion’s den.

           The doors appeared grander as I walked down the empty hallways alone  – taking in the deep coloured wood, floor to ceiling in height, an entrance fit for giants.

           Through the light that shined through the windows, I spotted the stunning decals carved into the doors. Swirls, mimicking those of flames, etched with unbelievable accuracy. They reminded me of Zuko’s flames; controlled and restrained.

           But whenever Zuko did let loose, letting his flames run wild like that one time during the rainstorm, it was breathtaking. My hand began delicately falling over the woodwork, the closest I would get to touching Zuko’s flames without burning myself ironically.

           “Do you wish to enter?” A guard from the side spoke.

           Taking a deep breath, I nodded, unable to delay the inevitable any longer.

           The doors moaned loudly as the guards pushed the doors, allowing me to step into the great abyss. I found myself speechless, realizing that this was the first time I ever entered the Throne room. The last time this room was used was during Kayto’s visit.

           Gosh, what a sight.

           Long, endless lines of pillars adorned the space, reaching the ceiling, and it felt like beyond.

           Each post was decorated to the spirits, carved dragons flying up the posts in a spectacular dance. It felt mystical, like a depiction straight from a children's tale. The amount of time and effort that must have been given to creating such masterpieces was unfathomable. How long did it take to build this room?

           Candles lit up the space through low-hung chandeliers and candle stands, the room omitting a dark-yellow hue. The fact that this was practically a fire hazard in the making out of mind by the utter beauty of the place. But my attention fell over the sizeable dark-coloured table positioned in the center of the room.

           There sat eleven councilmembers, their eyes glued to me as I unhurriedly entered. All their faces were stern, the flickering candles casting eerie shadows over their features. And suddenly, the magic of the room started fading, the sick feeling in my stomach returning.

           “You’re late, Imperial Consort Ying Yue.” A voice boomed, a man standing from his seat at the table.

           I frowned, tilting my head at the sound of his voice, realizing who it was – this grump again.

           “Due pardon, but if I do recall, the meeting starts in an hour. I am early, fifteen minutes, in fact.” I clarified, and the councilmembers all stripped their gazes from me, staring at the table at which they sat.

           “Did you not receive the notice of time change? The meeting was due to start fifteen minutes ago.” The man shot back, and I found myself trembling. The way the room was designed seemed to draw out every single noise – his cantankerous tone hitting me from all sides.

           He set me up – he wanted me to look bad for coming late. There wasn’t a single maid looking for me, telling me about the change of time. My mouth opened and closed before swallowing my pride.

           Don’t argue with him, Yue.

           He wants you to mess up – reasons as to why you shouldn’t be with Zuko.

            “Apologizes, it seems the message failed to be relayed to me,” I spoke, each word forced because I knew the truth. The rest of the councilmember’s eyes narrowed, hearing my apology, but not in reaction to me, but to the man who spoke. They didn’t like him either; it seems.

           “No need to apologize, Imperial Consort Ying Yue. Please, take a seat at the head table.” A honied voice spoke, Ming. She stood from her seat, her back straight while bowing her head. I followed her gesture, her small hands pointing to the space at the far end of the table.

           How did I not notice that before?

           Unlike the others who sat in their seat at the table, this was a platform. Three steps above the ground, at the head of the table, a golden throne lined with luxurious rogue fabric. Hesitatingly, I walked forward, eyeing the set-up.

           The Fire Lord’s seat – Zuko’s throne.

           The style alone was undoubtedly not Zuko’s, much too gaudy, but this must have been passed down from generation to generation. Could I even sit in this place? Is this appropriate? Sure, I’m in power at the moment, but I’m not the official ruler, just a placeholder.

           “Is there an issue, Imperial Consort?” Ming questioned, her voice sounding distant. How big is this table, this room? I let out a timid smile, shaking my head. “Nothing at all, it’s perfect.” Ming smiled at my words, urging me to take a seat. As if she was letting me know that it was okay.

           I tried to lax my body, hands balling up the fabric of my dress before collapsing into the throne. It felt like clouds, the chair beyond comfy, and it gave me a clear view of everyone before me, too clear.

           The sensation of being high-up, towering above all, felt foreign, not settling well in the slightest. Towering above everyone else like I was some godly figure, all alone. Is this why Zuko doesn’t conduct meetings here? It felt isolating, almost dictating.

           Zuko was confident, too confident; he didn’t need to sit high up in a throne to command power. People just had to hear Zuko speak; his actions and work ethic alone were enough to secure his right as Fire Lord.

           Having everyone's eyes looking up at me had me feeling self-conscious, fingers playing with my dress, and that’s when I noticed the tidy pile of documents off to the side, ‘Fire Lord.’

           “The documents you see there will assist you in today’s meeting.” Ming smiled, already taking her seat once again. I nodded, reaching forward.

           I opened the folder, eyes briefly scanning its contents - schooling.

           My brows pinched together, flipping through the papers swiftly, not at all expecting to see this topic come in play today. It was all about budgets and funding for upcoming schools around the Fire Nation. The possibility of new educational institutions, finances, job increases for the general public.

           Zuko was trying to build more schools for children. Decrease the student to teacher ratio to provide a more personalized education. I had no clue Zuko was working on this-

           “Let us get straight to the point.” A councilmember coughed, my head snapping upwards to gaze over them all. My new found enemy let his hands rest on the table, palms down as if he were trying to control his composure.

           “We’re here to discuss the funding for the new schools set to be built within the year.” A councilmember rose their hand, gazing at me before speaking, “For what reasons? We have already established and approved all their placements.”

           The man merely rolled his eyes, tapping the table impatiently, “We discussed placement, but not funding. The funding that we have discussed is not enough for certain zones. Let us examine Ember Island – the funding for schooling should not be less than that of Black Cliffs.”

           I frowned, eyes darting back to the front of the document.

           A simple map was drawn, and sure enough, all the schools that had been approved were drawn on the map in red. Black Cliffs…its in the middle of nowhere…why would he want less funding if that funding is critical-

           “I disagree. Black Cliffs is in a remote area; they require more funding and a larger space since it is expected that these two villages will use this school until another one is built in the future. Ember Island already has three established schools, the new school being built is merely an expansion.” I reasoned.

           Thank you, Zuko.

           It was moments like these; I was thankful for Zuko’s complete and utter control-freak tendencies. His pretty handwriting was clear to read, the tiny notes he made off to the sides of each document helpful. I never got a chance to look at these papers beforehand like I had planned originally. He had to go and change the time of this damn meeting.

           “Nonsense. Ember Island and other cities need an increase in funding.” He insisted.

           “And why’s that?” I huffed.

           His eyes met mine, shooting me a glare. “If it was not clear in the notes in your pile, it is not unusual for high-status locations to have greater funding compared to low-class villages.”

           The language of this man. “I highly doubt that.” I started, but he pointed at the papers in my hands, “Look, Imperial Consort.” My eyes fell back onto the documents, rapidly flipping through papers.

           Contract approvals, estimated government costs for building, funding- what?

           My mouth dropped, fingers running along with the black ink, Zuko’s signature.

           The documents were older; previous educational establishments built within two years. Each city that was known to cater to high-ranking socialites gained more money for their public schools. But Zuko wouldn’t do something like that; he would never give more money to the rich.

           Yet the handwriting at the bottom, his seal of approval. Zuko agreed to this. He gave more funding to already prosperous areas in previous years.

           Why would you do that-

           “Well, Imperial Consort – did you find your proof?” The man snickered, a sinister grin on his face the whole time. He knew that I found what he wanted me to see, leaning back in his chair smugly with raised brows.

           I swallowed, nodding as I studied the paperwork.

           The gut feeling in my stomach, my mind screaming at me that this was wrong, wouldn’t go away. Zuko wouldn’t do that- he wouldn’t do this.

           “Good. We can end this meeting swiftly then. Just sign this paper here – you approving an increase of funding for these cities, and we can be dismissed.” The man smirked, waving the ivory coloured paper in the air. The other councilmembers gazed at each other in horror, shaking their heads.

           “Impossible. Fire Lord Zuko never approved of such means; he overruled Fire Lord Ozai’s school curriculum and funding process for reasons.” A woman shouted, slamming her hands.

           The man sneered at her, chinning towards me, “It seems like Fire Lord Zuko had a change of heart after all. He understands the importance of the high-ranking people of this Nation, not these filthy low-lives.”

           My hands started getting sweaty, watching the way the councilmembers began bickering with each other. They were at the edge of their seats, dropping formalities as they rose their voices. Zuko wouldn’t do that to children, gosh he had a hard exterior, but he wasn’t heartless.

           “I wish to see these documents! He would never approve!”

           “But if Imperial Consort found his signature approving of the funding in previous years…”

           “There will be an uproar from these villages. They are important, our main source of food. If they learn that we cut their funding and gave it to developed cities-”

           “Nonsense, they should know better than to revolt. Now hurry up and sign the papers!” The man shouted, slamming his hand against the table, the paper wrinkling under his grasp. The slamming of the documents reverberated in the room – bouncing off the walls and had everyone shutting up.

           His face was red, his eyes not wavering from my own, “Sign. The. Document.”

           “This needs to be deliberated in more depth-” I insisted. Gosh, Zuko wouldn’t do this, he wouldn’t approve of this. He wouldn’t do this-

           “Nothing more has to be discussed, just approve it already. If these children do not have a school to attend to by the end of this year, the blame will fall over you for delaying the process, Imperial Consort. Can you live with yourself knowing that you are the reason children will not attend school this year because you could not make a decision?”

           Just sign it Yue – you have your proof. Clearly, Zuko is okay with this.

           But I’m not okay with this.

           But the proof- My fingers fell over the black ink again, where Zuko’s signature laid.

           It was his, I knew his handwriting, down to the way he flicked his wrist or dipped his pen for ink. These papers were proof that he was okay with this, and if he’s okay with this, this leaves me with only one choice-

           “I refuse to approve the funding. I will review the documents, and we can continue this meeting this evening with my final decision.” I spoke, trying to make my voice sound solid. A wave of relief washed over the majority of the council, and I could spot the three individuals who had the opposite reaction, furry etched in their faces.

           “You are wasting time.” The man grumbled, and I heaved a sigh. “Maybe so, but regardless if Fire Lord Zuko approved of this beforehand, I need time to review this information.”

           “You may be Imperial Consort, but you will never earn the respect of a Queen – you are nothing more but a Waterbender playing dress-up.”

           An eerie silence overcame us, and for the tenth time today; I could feel my heart shatter because he was right.

           I don’t deserve to be Queen, nor Zuko’s partner.

              Nothing was going right.

           It was as if the spirits decided that today wasn’t going wrong enough – let’s add more to my plate for their sick amusement.

           My hands ran through my hair in frustration, not caring in the slightest at the fact that the beautifully placed pins tumbled onto the rug underneath me. A string of curse words that would even have Zuko proud flew from my lips.

           Not even Zuko’s level of foul language would match my current state of self-destruction.

           The black ink pooled on the tabletop, some dripping on the red of my dress, like droplets of black blood. “Gosh, just my luck.” I fumed to myself, on the verge of just throwing every single bloody document on this table out the window. How does Zuko do this every day?

           Seeing the piles upon piles of paperwork that littered the floor, the words mashing together like a giant blob. My mind was spinning, face rosy from the stress and this fever that refused to back off for a second.

           I blew loudly, brushing my hair behind my ears before leaning over the study. My arm outstretched, fingers stretching to grasp the bundle of napkins placed off to the side.

           Utterly lost in my thoughts, I failed to take into account the vial of ink I had placed right in front of me, the draping of my sleeves knocking it over.

           My eyes widen, shoulders slumping in utter despair at the clacking sound of the glass vial hitting the wooden table, yet again – spilling the remaining ink.

           “Are you KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW!?” I cried, pulling back hastily, my long-sleeves dragging the ink with it. My voice cracked slightly, raising my tone as high as I did, not expressing such defeat in spirits knows how long.

           I watched helplessly as the ink settled into the natural indents of the wood, thankfully nowhere near the documents from the meeting this morning. And at that exact moment, a knock caught my attention, and I swallowed.

           Who could it possibly be now- Shutting my eyes before taking a deep breath, I bite my lip anxiously. Calm down, Yue. Count to ten.

           One…two…

           five…seven…

           nine…ten.

           “Yes?” I squealed, trying desperately to mask my frustration. The poor soul, on the other end of the door, didn’t need to experience my wrath when they did nothing wrong. I’m just an absolute idiot, that’s the problem.

           The study door jarred slightly at the sound of my voice, and to my shock, a guard popped his head in, free of his helmet. His long wavy hair swayed side to side as he bent over from his waist, up, a worried look on his face.

           “Is everything alright, Imperial Consort-oh, did you spill the ink, again?” He mused, a silly smile popping on the guard’s face almost instantly.

           My face flushed, “…Maybe.”

           The guard didn’t even have to step back outside. He lifted his arm from behind his back, a perfectly folded set of napkins in his grasp. “Fire Lord Zuko always asks me to keep some on hand; he says his Consort is a bit of clutz.” He chuckled, leaving me stunned.

           My mouth opened, ready to protest, but the current flood on the desk, my lap and sleeve filthy had me thinking twice.

           Why do you always have to be right, Zuko?

           “I’m sorry for causing so much trouble,” I whined, my shoulders dropping in fatigue as my hand fell over my face. I rubbed my eyes, fighting back the tears of frustration, before exhaling.

           It was embarrassing.

           Here I am, pretending to act like I have the slightest idea as to what I was doing.

           Acting as if I was totally fit for this role, which I wasn’t.

           The guard let himself in, kicking the door shut behind him with his heel. He walked forward with ease, his boots clicking louder the closer he got. The guard seemed at complete ease as if he has walked inside this room countless times over the years to help clean up ink spills.

           “Don’t be sorry, Imperial Consort. Everyone has those days, even Fire Lord Zuko.”

           I perked up at the mention of Zuko, the guard starting to section out the napkins to clean up the mess. “Fire Lord Zuko wouldn’t spill his ink two times in a row, in less than an hour time,” I mumbled under my breath, and the guard snorted at my statement.

           “Permission to speak freely?” The guard requested, and I tilted my head in surprise, nodding.

           “Please, do not tell him I told you this, but Fire Lord Zuko used to go through six vials a day after his coronation because he kept knocking it over. Six times a day, I would go to the supply room, and bring them to him. I learned after day two to just keep them on me at all times.”

           I laughed under my breath at the story, the guard laughing with me, his armour rumbling with joy recalling those times. He outstretched some napkins towards me, which I grabbed with a smile, the tension in my body easing.

           I could already picture it. Zuko getting all flustered, just like me, trying to clean up his mess just to do the whole process all over again. Six times exact.

            “Thank you…I needed to hear that.” I hummed, letting a towel soak up some of the ink I had just spilled. The guard nodded his head, shooting me a smile, “No problem, you know, Fire Lord Zuko would be proud of how much work you got done. It must be nice for him to know he can take a day off when he’s sick because he has you to trust.”

           I froze, looking at the pile the guard was referring to.

           A few papers were completed, my signature at the bottom of each document with the Fire Nation seal beside. But the papers weren’t anything grand in nature – simple stuff. Stuff I used to do all the time back at the Southern Water Tribe.

           The only difference was over here, there was a lot of more pointless rules and ‘expectations,’ down to the way you cross your t’s and dot your I’s.

           “I highly doubt that…Zuko would’ve finished all this way before lunchtime, and I’m not even close.” I huffed, and the guard shook his head. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Imperial Consort. He talks about you all the time to me. Says he trust you with his life.”

           “He does?” I shyly questioned, accidentally dropping the napkin into a small puddle of ink, causing little droplets to fly over us. I apologized under my breath, but the guard looked entertained, not bothered in the slightest that black ink now stained his uniform.

           “Of course, in fact…I am a little guilty of taking advantage of it. Whenever he is in a sour mood, I point at you through the window, and he’s back to it.”

           I coloured, recalling Zuko admitting to me he sometimes catches my morning walks with Ursa and Kiyi in the gardens. But if he can see my morning walks, that means he also sees all the times I play with Kiyi out in the gardens, or when I read books to her beneath the cherry blossom trees. Yet he still asks me what I did during the day, listening as I rambled on and on…

           “Imperial Consort, do you wish for me to put these documents away in the reject folder?” The guard interjected, cutting my thoughts in half.

           My eyes narrowed, staring at the paperwork in question. I found myself jumbled. “The-the reject pile?” I repeated, making sure of the words the guards just spoke. He nodded his head, and I found myself stunned, “These papers were from this morning meeting, I need them still.” I spoke, and I noticed the way the guards face twisted in confusion, a look matching mine.

           He opened his mouth, almost afraid to talk, and I stopped wiping the table eagerly, more interested in the thoughts running through his mind

           “You may speak, don’t hold your tongue around me. I don’t bite.” I insisted, and the guard’s shoulders visibly eased, scratching his chin like Sokka or Aang.

           “It’s just that…I don’t see why you have these papers or how you got these. These are all rejected proposals; Fire Lord Zuko just keeps them for reference.”

           Rejects-

           “So, what you are saying is these papers, this funding – was never approved?” I gasped, running around the study to the guards’ side.

           The guard’s eyes widen in surprise, a pink blush coating his cheeks. Undoubtedly, taken aback by the way my hands fell over his arms. I didn’t even notice I did such an action, so caught up in the moment, it was a reflex.

           “N-no, Fire Lord Zuko would never approve of these figures. Taking money from smaller villages, he didn’t spend years fighting with the council to change those policies, just to go back on his promises.”

           That man- he set me up.

           “He-he tricked me. He wanted me to sign those papers.” I whispered under my breath, falling against the study in a state of shock.

           Zuko’s signature on these papers wasn’t for approvals, but his mark of denial.

           I knew Zuko would never approve of this, but the council didn’t think I knew Zuko well enough to know that. They think all I am to Zuko is a royal bedwarmer, that I don't know anything about him – the very thing Mai accused me of.

           “Imperial Consort, did I say something wrong?” the guard worried, his hands hovering over my body, unsure whether to support my resting figure. The poor guy thinks I almost passed out or something from this never-ending fever.

           I laughed under my breath, a wave of relief washing over me, “How can I be mad at someone who just saved me!” I enthused, and the guard looked more confused than ever. He looked around the room, scratching his chin as a low string of ‘uh’ and ‘oh’ left him.

           “I didn’t know you needed saving…I just offered to put away these documents.” The guard awkwardly said, and I rolled my eyes.

           “You don’t get it, this morning, a few members of the council wanted me to increase the funding for certain cities – and they fed me these papers. They tried to convince me that Zuko said okay to this in the past!”

           It was like someone lit a candle in the guard’s head, his eyes widening before he swore under his breath. “I can’t believe it- for years those greedy councilmembers tried to steal money. I’ve heard Fire Lord Zuko complain about this for months. They have this weird philosophy about the survival of the fittest – oppressing the weak and living off their ill-being.” The guard spat, huffing to himself in disgust.

           “They planted false papers to get their way, tried to take advantage of you. I can’t believe it- no wonder Ming told me to keep an eye out for you.”

           “Ming?” I repeated— the older woman from this morning and the meeting, the one with a warm smile. The guard nodded, walking back and forth in the office.

           “Yes, she told me this morning to keep an eye out. That she doesn’t trust some of the councilmembers. She can’t come here herself to help you – it’ll look suspicious on her end. I’ve known her for years; she’s a good woman. She spoke with Fire Lord Zuko a few days ago before he caught this cold, offered her help as well.”

           The warmth that enveloped in my heart, my hands falling over my chest in bliss.

           I knew it-

           I knew Zuko would never do such a thing. He may be a tough cookie, but he was still sweet, and his heart was in the right place. He didn’t spend every waking second in his life to turn against his Nation – his work was his source of pride and honour.

           “I don’t know how they got these papers, Imperial Consort, but you can’t approve of this funding. It goes against Fire Lord Zuko’s whole goal.” The guard pleaded, and I smiled, clasping my hands with his. “Don’t you worry, I never was going to approve of it. But knowing that I was right all along makes things a lot easier for me. Thank you for everything.” I gushed, and the guard nodded, before stifling in a laugh.

           “We still have a mess to clean.”

           “Gosh, I forgot about that…” I muttered under my breath, but a smile still sat on my face.

           A victory.

           Even if small, it was still a win in my books.

           For the first time today, I felt like I could breathe. Actually, enjoy the fresh air that came from the window and appreciate the sun that danced along my skin. I was no longer in a weird trance, entirely out of touch with the world around me.

           “I’ll be back; we let the ink settle into the wood. I think we need some heavy-duty cleaning stuff to help us.” The guard chuckled, and I bashfully nodded, realizing just how grand of a mess I made.

           I let my fingers dab and soak up the excess ink with whatever clean towels were left, the guard letting his used rags rest on the table. His suit jiggled as he lightly jogged towards the office door. He swung it open, but just as he stepped through the doorframe, I noticed the way he jumped back slightly, bowing deeply.

           I pouted, opening my mouth to speak up, but a rush a blue and green caught my eyes.

           “Yue!” The voices cried into my ears, their arms wrapping around my body, squeezing me between them. It took a few seconds to process the embrace, but more importantly, who it was.

           “S-Suki, Katara?” I gasped out in surprise, struggling to breathe between their hug.

           Katara pulled back, running her hands down my face with a large frown. “Ursa was right; you’re heating up. Aang, you should’ve dragged her to me!” She nagged, and right away, a voice of protest popped up from behind her. “I wanted to, but she insisted on working.”

           “Just as stubborn as Zuko.” I heard Toph grumble under her breath, although I failed to spot her, Katara and Suki taking up much of my view.

           “How are you feeling, Yue? You look like shit, no offence.” Suki proclaimed, poking my nose good-humouredly. Even though she wore her thick makeup, I spotted the way her eyes lit up, wrinkles forming around her eyes. That’s right, Aang lied to them. None of them have a single clue as to what I did.

           I swallowed hard, looking back and forth around the room, seeing Sokka and Aang sneak into the room. The door shut behind them, and while they talked and asked questions about my well-being, I couldn’t help but focus on their appearance.

           They all looked drained as if they were put through the wringer. But the look on Katara’s and Sokka’s face took the cake. I hadn’t seen any of them all day, only Katara in the morning when she rushed to Zuko’s side. Dark circles painted their tanned skin, their bright blue eyes not shining as bright as usual.

           I frowned, raising my hand to cup Katara’s face.

           She must have been healing this whole time, trying to help Zuko. If only I could be as great of a healer as Katara- “You look tired, Katara. Are you resting?” I whispered, and she scoffed.

           Her hand gripped mine, pushing it away as she once again pressed the back of her palm against my forehead. “I’m fine, Yue, we’re all fine. But you, not so much. Have you eaten lunch today?” I flushed under her gaze, shaking my head with a silent ‘no.’

           Sokka kissed his teeth, noticing he wandered from behind me, resting his hands on my shoulders. His touch had me wobbling, the weight of his hands on my shoulders feeling heavy. I felt weak – and I realized I was still leaning against the study as a form of support.

           “Princess, you look ill. We can talk later; I think you need to call it quits for today.”

           “Talk to me about what?” I asked, facing Sokka, Katara’s hand dropping from my face. He sighed, looking at the others for approval of some sort. “Sokka, let’s not do this now...” Katara warned, but Toph’s unamused tone triumphed them.

           “It’s about Zuko, Princess.”

           Katara twisted on her heel – anger flashing in her eyes at Toph’s nonchalant talking, but she wasn’t fazed at all. Toph’s blindness proved to work in her favour, already lounging on the office floor, resting her head on her palm, elbow on her knee.

           My heart started pounding, seeing the dark looks on everyone’s faces, “Is Zuko going to be okay? Aang told me he was going to be okay-” I panicked, and Suki quickly wrapped her arms around my shaking body, hushing into my ear.

           “Hey, he’s going to be just fine. It’s nothing bad, we promise.”

           A deep exhale left me, my eyes fluttering shut as I fell against Suki. “I just want him to be okay. That’s it.” I whimpered into her arms, and I felt Sokka rest his hand on my head, petting my hair. “Don’t worry, Princess, we got this. We just wanted to bring you up to speed.”

           “Did you learn anything new?” I questioned, pulling back from Suki’s embrace slightly. She still held me close to her frame, and Katara nodded. “Yue…did you know that Firebenders are resistant to poison?”

           My eyes narrowed, unable to form words. Resistant to poisons? How is that possible? “I-I had no clue-”

           “Me neither, I learned that today with the nurses. But that’s the thing, why try to kill the Fire Lord with poison, the very thing that Firebenders are immune? Sounds counter-intuitive, don’t you think?” I stared, trying to under what they were trying to get at.

           I saw the way Zuko struggled to breathe; he didn’t resist the poison at all. He was dying; I felt him slipping from right beneath my fingers. “I don’t get your point….”

           “Whoever did this was trying to target you, Princess,” Sokka said, and I faced him. “We know that already, Sokka. The tea was meant for me. But what does that have to do with Firebenders and poison? Zuko didn’t look like he was resisting the poison at all. He was gasping and struggling and-”

           Suki gripped my hands, noticing I was shaking, just picturing Zuko again. The mental image of Zuko in pain forever etched into my mind.

           “Exactly, Yue. Zuko wasn’t resisting the poison at first, and that got me curious.” Katara budded in, turning to face Aang. He walked forward, searching into his robe, before pulling out a tiny red pouch.

           “How is it possible, that Zuko, a powerful Firebender, almost died from poison, when Firebenders are supposedly resistant?” Katara spoke, taking the bag and tugging the strings. The contents of the pack fell into her palm, grounded bits of herbs, scattering her palm.

           I remember those herbs-

           “That was what was in the tea…” I gasped, and Katara nodded.

           “Zuko’s mom is a master botanist, a fact not too well-known in the kingdom. We asked her to look at these herbs and tell us what it was. And you know what she told us, Yue?” Aang spoke, and I shook my head.

           I loved plants, always wanted to be florist back when I lived in Earth Nation. Have my little flower garden with a family. But I lacked the resources to learn the technicalities of the field, let alone botany. “I-I don’t know…”

           “Ursa said the same thing.” Aang started, poking at the herbs with his pointer finger. “This – isn’t something we know. Someone created this herb, Ursa said it’s called cross-pollination. It’s an advanced technique; not even Ursa is comfortable with it anymore. But whoever did this, did so with the sole purpose of creating a poison so potent that it could kill a person in seconds, or disable a Firebender.”

           “Someone wanted you to die, Princess, and if given a chance, kill Zuko too. A two for one combo.” Toph snorted, blowing upwards and causing her bangs to fly upwards.

           Katara dumped the contents inside the pouch again, passing it back to Aang. “You were their main target, Zuko was just an after-thought.”

           “So, what you’re trying to tell me is the person in question is a botanist?”

           “It seems so, but when we interviewed the gardeners and florists, everyone came back clean. They don’t fit the bill.” Sokka exclaimed, “Suki and I went through every registered gardener and florist assigned to the kingdom, everyone had an alibi.”

           “Does this…does this have something to do with Yakone and Azula?” I whispered. Everyone’s looks darkened, Aang meeting my gaze. “We don’t know for certain...we don’t even know what their goal is besides destroying the United Nations. But if that was the case, wouldn’t it be easier to attack me?”

           Katara visibly tensed, looking back at Aang with a frown, “Don’t say that…”

           “But it’s true; their motives are unclear and-”

           “Sokka.” I budded, cutting off Aang. Everyone perked up at my voice, stepping forward as I paced back and forth. “You said you checked every gardener and florist registered with the kingdom, right,” I questioned, looking straight at Sokka.

           He nodded, watching how I stomped up and down the room. Katara sighed trying to reach forward, “Yue, you need to sit down, you look like you’re going to pass out-”

           “What about Mai?” I blurted.

           The looks on everyone’s faces dropped.

           I stopped pacing, a hand falling over my head the more and more I thought about it. “Mai’s sister, owns a flower shop, right? Zuko said she works for her sister, not for the kingdom. She isn’t a botanist, but she could’ve easily tricked her sister into creating something this deadly.”

           “Yue. I know Mai is Zuko’s ex-girlfriend, and you already think she’s guilty beforehand-” Sokka spoke, and my face turned red.

           “I’m not accusing her of something because she’s Zuko’s ex, Sokka! I’m saying it because we know she’s the snitch, and if we know she’s working with Azula, why would she be innocent of this?”

           Aang took a deep breath, shaking his head as he took a step back. The room was growing in tension, and I didn’t even notice the way Toph stood. “Princess is right. You guys let your personal feelings get in the way – yet again. She’s a prime suspect first, before a friend. She has all the tools, easy access in and out of the kingdom. She would’ve known that Princess gave Kima and Lia the morning off.”

           My face twisted to confusion, stepping forward, “Give Kima and Lia the morning off?” I repeated, and this time they all gazed at me like I was crazy. “I was told that Kima and Lia took the day off because something came up.” I blurted.

           “No…we have paperwork saying you gave them the morning off. You sent a guard with a note; we just asked Kima and Lia a few minutes ago when they arrived-”

           “Imperial Consort Ying Yue did not send me to deliver such a letter.” A voice spoke up, causing us all to jump.

           The guard who was helping me from before was holding some cleaning supplies, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed deeply. “S-sorry for interrupting, but Imperial Consort Ying Yue did not request me to send the letter.”

           “You sent the letter?” I asked, and the guard nodded.

           “Yes, last night, before they left. Countess Mai asked me to deliver that letter to your maids in your place.” His cheeks flushed slightly, uncomfortable by the number of stares he was receiving, but he maintained eye contact with myself.

           “I-I knew about the rumours about you and Countess Mai, b-budding heads, so I was surprised. But she said you two had some afternoon tea and worked your differences. That she will be your aid, as a symbol of goodwill. I’m sorry, what is this all about-”

           “Goodwill, my fucking ass.” I snarled, and just like that, I bolted.

           “Yue~!” Aang shouted, “Where are you going!?”

           “Nobody hurts Zuko and gets away with it.”

           I ignored their cries, shoving past the guard, the cleaning supplies spilling onto the ground. My hand gripped the door handle, swinging the door wide.

           Red, all I saw was red.

           My hands turned into fists, not caring about the stares I was receiving from the guards and servants. My hair was a mess, dress dirty from the ink stains from earlier today. I wasn’t even wearing my heels anymore, opting for a more comfortable footwear the moment I went into the study – proving useful at the moment.

           The gang’s voices seemed distant, as I ran down the red-coloured hallways. The sun was starting to set, blood pumping loudly in my ears.

           Mai.

           How I tried to be friends with you.

           How I tried to think well of you despite all the trash you spoke about me.

           You can hurt me as much as you like, but don’t you dare hurt the people I love.

           I turned the corner, noticing that the rooms of the kingdom were changing. The artwork was less grand, the doors no longer as tall – I’m in the noble’s quarters. A few people dressed in regal clothing stared at me, eyes narrowing in confusion as they saw the way I scanned the area like a madwoman.

           “Is there something you need, Imperial Consort Ying Yue?” a woman asked prudently, her eyes judging my appearance.

           I glared, stepping forward, “Where is Countess Mai.” I hissed.

           Her eyes widened, the people around her looking panicked, hearing my manic tone. She took a step back, her body trembling with fear as she watched the way my fingers twitched with anger. “I-I’ll call for her, um- MAI!”

           A scene started to unfold, more and more people leaving the comforts of their quarters to look at the commotion happening outside. But it was that sound. That bored, mono-toned voice that had chills running up my spine

           “What do you want?” Mai hissed, turning the corner of the hallway, a look of displeasure written on her face. Her cat-like eyes met mine, her figure stilling, and I forced a smile.

           “Your nose healed nicely.” I spat, and without a moment to spare, she ran.

           My knees bent, chasing at full speed.

           The way Mai moved with ease, turning the corner she just came from as I hastily struggled to catch up. The long gown I wore kept slowing me down, the guards reaching out for me hearing my heavy footsteps.

           “Imperial Consort, what are you doing-”

           “Give me this,” I shouted, grabbing the dagger attached to their hips as I ran past them.

           They couldn’t react fast enough, slipping through them like water in a desperate effort to not lose track of Mai. She knew the kingdom better than me, and she was taking full advantage of it.

           Her light-weight but fitted clothing gave her an edge, looking over her shoulder with a glare as she saw I was on her tail. Mai wasn’t stupid; she was a trained fighter – her lean physique and quick steps were the proof.

           I reached down hurriedly, yanking a large chunk of my dress in my hands, slicing the extra material off. The sound of expensive fabric being ripped to shreds would’ve had the royals crying. But the dead fabric dropping from my hands had me sighing in relief.

           My legs felt free, no longer under the tight constraints, or weighted down. Now I can fight. My pace quickened, pushing myself off the wall as she turned another sharp corner.

           “Give up; already, you think you can catch me?” Mai snarled, and my eyes widened. Her hands snuck up her sleeves for a brief moment, before flicking her wrist towards me.

           I gasped, the glistening look of the setting sun reflecting off metal had me darting to the side. I twisted my body and bumped ungracefully against the hallway wall. The feeling of a sharp piece of metal cutting my cheek had me flinching, noticing that Mai stood still for a moment with a broad grin.

           “You don’t know how good that felt.”

           “You poisoned the tea, didn’t you?” I shouted. Mai shrugged her shoulders, “I didn’t do anything. I just gave the tools necessary. That’s all.”

           “You almost killed Zuko.”

           Her eyes narrowed at my words, snickering under her breath, “If he died, it would’ve been your fault. I told you the moment you came here. You made a mistake.” She turned on her heel, picking up the pace, and I huffed.

           I flung myself forward, disregarding the pain that radiated up my body. I can’t go on for much longer; I’m too weak from this morning. But I have to do this- A large red door was at the end of the hallway, and I spotted the way Mai’s hand stretched forward.

           Oh no, you don’t- I twirled the small dagger in my hand, and with a grunt, rocked my arm forward.

           Mai’s fingers grazed the knob before the sound of metal slicing through wood had her swearing. Pieces of timber sparked, splinters flying in the air at the sheer impact of the dagger piercing the exit. Mai flinched, realizing what I had done – the door was jammed.

           “Fuck,” Mai swore under her breath, before jumping on her toes, the look of absolute anger evident. She looked to her side, and with an irritated grunt, dashed towards the only hallway available.

           It’s a dead-end, she’s going to have nowhere to go.

           My pace slowed, almost running into the blocked door, praying that no one was on the other side, because they were going to be stuck in there for a bit. I looked towards the hallway Mai ran down, half expecting her to be throwing a temper tantrum, realizing she has nowhere to go, another part anticipating her to put up a fight.

           But to my absolute horror and confusion - Mai was still running at full speed. My mouth dropped, face paling. It’s a dead-end besides a window, we’re on the second floor; she couldn’t possibly be thinking-

           The sound of glass shattering had people screaming in their rooms.

           It bounced off the wooden floors, tiny pieces flying in the hallway – some even cutting the paintings that hung nearby. The small shards created streams of rainbows throughout the corridor- as I watched in utter awe.

           Mai’s crazy.

           And if Mai weren’t the reason that Zuko was currently in the nurses' station, unconscious, I would’ve saluted her. A part of me had to scoff at the idea of Zuko and her in a relationship. No wonder they didn’t work out – you had two ruthless, stubborn warriors, neither of them willing to submit or show weakness no matter what.

           ‘Too many cooks in the kitchen’ – wise words Iroh.

           I groaned under my breath, forcing my legs to trek forward, flinching as my feet were still sore from the small cuts I received from early in the day. My hands reached out, leaning out the window, the smell of fresh air filling my nostrils.

           Where the fuck could she have gone?

           My eyes desperately scanned the area, the waterfall that Toph just fixed in full view. Glass littered the grass below, servants causing a ruckus about the mess, but I pushed back the random shrieks of shock because I couldn’t find the very thing I wanted.

           Where is she? I turned my head to the side, only to have my body lax for a moment,  a sarcastic laugh leaving my lips.

           This sneaky bitch.

           Mai smirked, realizing that I spotted her, running along the roof before sliding her way down to the garden below. The red shingles on the rooftop shook and dislodged with every step she took, despite her light actions, landing onto the soft grass with ease.

           I looked at the distance between me and the roof. I don’t have the momentum; I won’t make the jump. But…I do have this-

           Taking a deep breath, I raised my hands, feeling the movement of the water from the waterfall.

           The servants quickly adverted their attention from the glass to the low rumbling coming from the waterfall, realizing that the waterfall was no long sprouting water – but coming at full speed towards me. They moved to the side in fear, and I found myself stepping off the window sill, flinging myself over the edge.

           The feeling of weightlessness hit me, still very much swinging my arms above my head in a frantic effort for the water to come to me. Black spots started filling my vision at a higher intensity than ever before, a cold numbness overcoming my senses as my body begged for rest – even for a second.

           I’m using too much chi, but I don’t have much choice at the moment.

           My gestures became more agitated, and right before I hit the ground, my body was immersed by water. Shielding me from the fall, I tightened my hands into fists, the water around me conforming around my body as a thin sheet of ice, rolling along the grass.

           Mai’s eyes widened in astonishment, seeing me jump back to my feet, before making a mad break through the unmarked zone of the gardens. That zone was supposed to be blocked entirely - Zuko saying it was still under renovation at the moment, a summer project of his.

           I swallowed deeply, taking note of how substantial my breathing has gotten. No matter how profound I inhaled, I could feel my lungs screaming for air. I need a breather; I can’t go on for much longer. Hot sweat layered over my skin, body clammy from over-exhaustion, the beating sun not making matters any better. But I need to catch her – I can’t stop now.

           With a deep gulp, I willed myself to push forward through the greenery in search of Mai.

           The sound of grass crunching under our feet, our hands hysterically pushing the overgrown tree branches and bushes to the side as we struggled to see in front of us. The area was dark, the sunlight barely making it past the greenery, the air crisp.

           “Stop running, Mai!” I shouted in a pathetic attempt to stop this mad chase. Just maybe, maybe, she would listen. Spots started to fill my vision once again, the gaps between what was in front of me and the dark spots making it difficult to focus. I bit my lip as a means to center myself.

           I’m running out of time-

           My arm raised in front of me, the sound of metal lodging itself into my ice, stopping dead in my tracks. Ice shreds flattered off my arm at the impact, and I let out a sigh of relief, realizing I got her weapon in time. Her daggers can’t pierce my ice-

           I gasped out in pain, her long fingers yanking my hair from the side and jerking me towards her. It all happened so fast, not even realizing that she was already beside me in seconds, my hair in her grip.

           She pivoted on her heel, using all her force to raise her knee straight into my stomach. My eyes widened, ice melting temporarily at the sheer disbelief of the attack. The pain was unbelievable, a dry heave escaping me as I cried.

           The way Mai moved – it reminds me of Azula so much. And if that’s the case-

           I shrieked in agony as the grip on my locks didn’t loosen, feeling each strand pulling from my scalp, using it as a leash to pull me back towards her for another attack. My feet stumbled forward as I doubled over in pain, watching as she rose her free hand into the air with a dagger in hand.

           “This is your fault.” Mai hissed, and at that moment, I dug my shoulder into her stomach.

           I grabbed her hips with a low grunt, lifting her off her feet and throwing onto the ground. The hold on my hair loosened, the dagger Mai held in her hand, falling onto the grass beside us.

           Her head hit the dirt, with a loud thud, and I swirled my hands around me, sitting on her waist as I pinned her wrists. The water slithered onto her skin, freezing over her hands and solidifying itself with the dirt. Her eyes widen, trying to kick upwards, but the water caught her feet, forcing her back to the ground.

           “I caught you.” I panted in pain, sweat dripping off my forehead as a cold shiver ran up my body.

           My body was shaking, losing focus rapidly as I forced myself to continue bending. The need to have Mai pinned underneath me, unable to move an inch, was the only motivation keeping me alive.

           Mai’s face twisted in anger, struggling against her bonds, “You’re a fucking fool.”

           “Says the one who almost killed her ex-boyfriend after proclaiming that you love him.” I breathlessly criticized, causing her to roll those dark eyes.

           “You don’t get it, do you? The only reason Zuko almost died was because of you.” I narrowed my eyes at her words. Let it go, Yue, don’t entertain her.

           But-

           “What does that mean, Mai.”

           “It means if you want Zuko to be happy, to be safe, you’ll pack up your things and leave.”

           “You just want me out of the picture.”

           “Think whatever you want to. All this started the moment you arrived here. Zuko’s life wasn’t in danger until you showed up.”

           I froze at her words, and Mai laughed bitterly, seeing the expression on my face. Because despite all the bullshit she put me through, she was right. Zuko was safe before I entered the picture – everything seemingly ties back to me somehow.

           Could she-could Mai be telling me the truth?

           “Think about it. All this drama happened because of you. Everything ties back to you being a Bloodbender.” She spat.

           My eyes widened, fingers digging into her skin under the cast of ice wrapped around her joints. But she didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed by the pain.

           “You know nothing, Mai.” I heaved, struggling to keep myself up at this point. My body was screaming in pain, my eyes shutting close as I tried to keep awake. “But I do. That poison, the only way to save him would be through Bloodbending. Aren’t you the tiniest bit curious who Yakone is? Why he’s so interested in you – why he reminds you of your precious Mom?”

           “Shut up.” I cracked, fighting back the tears of frustration. Don’t let her get to you, Yue. She’s trying to mess you up, keep it together. A few more seconds before the gang finds you-

           “Admit it. It all comes down to you. If anyone gets hurt, it’s all your fault.”

           “N-no, I would never hurt the people I love-” I gulped.

           “But you already did. You almost killed Zuko- he would never love you.”

           “Zuko loves me-”

           “Loved you. Zuko would never love a monster like yourself. Not after everything you’ve done.”

           The sound of crackling made my eyes open wide and head twist to the side.

           A blue flash caught my attention, energy sizzling and buzzing loudly through the empty garden space. I saw the movement of fingers through the low-rise tree branches, amber eyes staring back at me. Shit-

           I melted the ice instantly, much to my relief, jumping off Mai as I dodged for cover. The wicked sound of electricity cutting through the air, hitting the trees behind me, setting them ablaze. The heat that emitted from the foliage was intense, my skin feeling sunburned even through my dress.

           “A-Azula.” I gasped in pain, unable to get off the ground.

           Mai effortlessly rolled her body, skipping back onto her feet as she breezed towards Azula. “I’m wet.” She grumbled under her breath, waving her long sleeves to emphasize her point. Azula snorted, at her friends' gesture, flicking her long black hair behind her shoulder.

           “You’re lucky I came to save you. It seemed that this wrench overpowered you.”

           “She got lucky,” Mai groused back, kicking her feet into the dirt in front of her. Her dagger flew into the air, her hand reaching forward and snapping it up effortlessly. “Well, might as well leave then. No point causing any more of a scene than we already have.”

           Mai nodded at Azula’s words.

           I tried to stand up, forcing my feet to move, but my body refused to listen. I can’t let them leave; I need to stop them.

           “Wait-” I whimpered under my breath, trying to reach out. My hands dug into the dirt, driving myself to stand on my feet once again, but my knees buckled, crashing back onto the ground. Azula didn’t bat an eye to my cry, ignoring my weak protest as she twisted on her heel and blended in with her surroundings.

           But I saw the way Mai stilled for a second.

           She gazed over her shoulder with a look that had me holding my breath. For the first time since I met her, she let down her tough exterior, her eyes no longer containing that spark of feistiness. All that was left was a look of sadness, hurt…and pain.

           So much pain.

           I tilted my head to the side, unable to utter a word seeing the expression on her face – and as if Mai realized that she revealing too much of herself to me, a scowl painted her pretty face.

           “Remember, Yue,” Mai whispered breathlessly. “If you really love Zuko – want the best for him. You know what to do.”

           She whipped her gaze away from mine, sprinting off into the greenery around us – and there I sat – forced to bask in Mai’s words in a pile of mud.

           Sitting alone, with nothing but the sounds of trees rustling, birds chirping, flames crackling I found my eyes fluttering shut. An endless pit of loneliness emerging from deep within.

           My fingers dug into the filth as I cried because I knew what I have to do.

              “Does my baby want some attention?”

           “Maybe…” I giggled, smiling naughtily as I let my hands play with the ends of Zuko’s hair. My legs were wrapped perfectly around Zuko’s waist, currently straddling him as he rested on the couch in our bedroom – in his reading corner.

           I could hear the book he was reading shut with a soft thud from behind me, tossing the novel onto the coffee table with all the other stories I stocked. Stories I knew Zuko would love to read during his spare time.

           Feeling his warm hands caress my hips, running up my back before finally falling on my jaw had my skin tingling. Butterflies in my stomach as I enjoyed his tender touches. The whole time Zuko bore a soft smile, his eyes in a dreamy daze as he studied my figure up and down.

           “You’re beautiful, you know that…” he mumbled under his breath, and I blushed at his words.

           He continued letting his fingers roam, thumb brushing my lips, rubbing my cheeks, and I couldn’t help but purr like a kitten. How I loved this. Zuko always took his time, never rushing, each touch, each caress, done with a particular intent.

           I didn’t even notice my eyes had fluttered shut until I heard Zuko’s deep chuckle once again, cheeks turning a dark hue of red. “S-sorry.” I blurted, realizing I was practically leaned into Zuko, our noses touching. But Zuko merely grinned, shaking his head, “You're needy.”

           “Just one kiss?” I pouted, and I saw the way Zuko rolled his eyes – trying his hardest to seem indifferent to the idea. But I still saw the way he licked his lips in delight, his eyes settling over my own.

           “What if I want two kisses, love?” Zuko teased, and I smiled, “Then I’ll give you three.”

           “And if I want four?”

           “Then you’ll get five.”

           “How about…a hundred kisses?”

           “Then you’ll get a hundred and one kisses.” I smugly retorted, and Zuko laughed.

           His chest rumbled underneath me, eyes squinting in delight at my silliness. His laugh was contagious, unable to stop my giggles from tumbling, our cheerfulness mixing.

           I’m so happy-

           “Yue, let me put a bandage on your cheek. It should heal within a day or two.” Katara hummed softly, leaning over my figure with outstretched fingers – pulling me out of my fantasy.

           Her touch was gentle, the stickiness of the bandage causing a slight itch on my skin where it stuck, reminding me of the dressing I had to wear on my jaw for a bit. “Thank you…” I muttered out tiredly, running a hand through my chaotic hair.

           I could hear the ruckus happening outside in the gardens through the opened window, already imagining everyone turning over every single pebble in that garden for any traces or clues. ‘Mai had all her shit packed, she was going to leave tonight,’ Sokka said before leaving Zuko’s study to help the others.

           A tired groan left my lips, rolling my head side to side to ease the tension in my shoulders. My eyes struggled to stay open, wanting nothing more but to slide into my warm bed, Zuko hugging me from behind-

           “Hey, did you ever find out what the Earth King wrote that was so important for Zuko to read?” Katara asked, catching my attention.

           My tired eyes opened a bit more, trying to appear alert as I saw the olive-green document in Katara’s hands. I shook my head, leaning over to take the neatly pre-opened envelope from her touch. Zuko never finished reading this letter; he decided to take me out for dinner instead.

           “I figured you would’ve read it; it seemed urgent,” Katara added.

           “You’re right; I should probably give it a read…” I whispered, letting the paper fall on my lap as I propped against the desk. A silence fell over us, both us trying to wrap our heads around what was happening.

           Mai set up the whole thing, and I saw the way the news hurt the team.

           They all looked wounded, their greatest fears coming alive. They knew Mai was the snitch, but seeing her running away, actually admitting guilt, was rubbing salt in the wound at this point. Why would you do this, Mai?

           Everyone says this is unlike you, yet here you are, doing exactly what you wouldn’t ever do.

           “Um, do you want to visit Zuko?” Katara said again, almost rushed, trying to fill the void with some sound. My body stiffened at the mention of Zuko, looking up at Katara like a lost child.

           “I-I-”

           “You haven’t seen him all day. I know it must be hard for you.”

           “I-It’s fine; I’ll-I’ll visit him tomorrow.” I blurted, shaking my head as I pushed myself off the table. I let my fingers play with the edges of the envelope in my hands, trying to look busy and distract myself from Mai’s haunting words.

           Zuko doesn’t love me anymore…

           She’s just trying to mess with you, Yue.

           But Mai has known Zuko her whole life. She probably knows Zuko better than I will ever. I’m an idiot for thinking that I was actually important-

           “You can visit Zuko now, Yue. I know you want to-”

           “I’m fine, Katara. I-” I stilled, no longer playing with the green folder in my hands to distract myself from my dark thoughts. Feeling the paper slide between my hands, grazing the Earth Nation wax seal jogged a whole new can of worms into my mind.

           My eyes widened, feeling my skin crawl- “Shit, I forgot! I have a meeting!” I gasped.

           My gut dropped, letting out a worn-out whine as I ran a hand through my hair.

           I looked out the window, noticing that the sun was starting to hide behind the tree-line, the moon ready to make an appearance in due time. But that means it must have started already, and now I’m going to be late, again.

           And that grumpy man is going to use that against me and say how useless I am and-

           “Yue. You can’t be serious?” Katara exclaimed, watching me bolt upwards and towards the study. I gave a mental thanks to the guard from early in the day, realizing he cleaned the desk despite me leaving the way I did. I need to thank him-

           “Ying Yue,” Katara growled, her hand yanking my shoulder back.

           I jumped at the aggressive shove, forcing me to face Katara. Her face was warped with fury, watching me as if I had eight heads. “What about Zuko?” Katara breathed, emphasizing each word.

           “What about him, Katara?” I snapped, swinging the documents in my hands into the air. “He’s out cold, because of me. Everything that happened today is because of me. Everything. The reason why Zuko almost died, the reason all this drama is happening, the reason why Zuko is drowning with all this council bullshit every day - it all leads back to me!” I cried in frustration.

           Katara’s face softened immediately, trying to reach forward to cradle me, but I stepped back. “You’re punishing yourself-” Katara realized, and I swallowed back a sob. “No, I’m doing Zuko a favour. He doesn’t want to see me, Katara. How could he after everything I’ve done?” I cried, pushing the folder tightly to my chest.

           Katara shook her head, her own eyes tearing, “Yue, Zuko loves you-”

           “Zuko loved me. Just-just drop it; I need to go.”

           “Yue, forget about the meeting-”

           “I can’t, Katara! It’s the only thing going somewhat right – the only thing I can give to Zuko when he wakes up. The least I could do for him.”

           “Yue-” I walked forward, the office door opening wide as I dashed out of the room.

           I ignored the cries of Katara behind me, blood rushing in my ears as I stormed down the hallway. The documents in my hands were crumbling under my death grip, furiously wiping the tears on my cheeks.

           This is the only thing I could do for Zuko – the only thing I managed to get right.

           The guards up ahead, safeguarding the throne room, saw my approaching figure, looks of disbelief etched into their faces. “Imperial Consort – the meeting was set almost an hour ago-”

           “Are they still in there, waiting?” I asked, and I saw the way the guard took in my appearance, mud stuck in my hair.

           “Y-yes-” they stuttered, and I nodded, “Good.”

           Not bothering to wait for the guards to open the door for me, I stormed inside.

           The doors swung open, slamming against the walls and catching the attention of the council in seconds. They all stood tall, eyes wide as they took in my appearance. “Oh my- Imperial Consort, are you alright?” A councilmember gulped in shock, and I ignored their inquiry, my eyes meeting that asshole.

           His face was stern, kissing his teeth as he studied my figure up and down in disgust. “You’re almost an hour late – and you come in looking like that.” He laughed bitterly; his two stupid minions amused by his joke. The councilmembers all shut their mouths, noticing the annoyance in my posture.

           “How about you take a seat, Imperial Consort?” A member politely suggested, and I shook my head, forcing myself to smile at them.

           “I’m perfectly fine because I plan on making this meeting short. Increase of funding – denied.”

           The man's eyes widen at my statement, crashing his hands on the table. For a moment, I thought he was going to jump over the counter, lunging at my throat. “Bullshit. Why is it denied, you know Fire Lord Zuko approved of the documents previous years, you saw his signature-”

           “No. What I saw was three councilmembers manipulating and falsifying classified documents to trick myself, and the council, to believing that Fire Lord Zuko approved of such funding.”

           The colour drained from their faces, but more importantly, the grumpy man who started all of this.

           His mouth opened and closed, unable to utter a word in response, and the rest of the members looked at them in horror. I raised the papers in the air, tossing them onto the table, seeing the documents glide into messy piles.

           “What’s wrong, you thought that because I’m Imperial Consort that I just have to sleep with Fire Lord Zuko, like some glorified concubine? That I don’t have a backbone? A mind of my own?” I spat, and I saw the bead of sweat build on his brow.

           “Only a concubine would speak with such vulgar language.” He scowled.

           “Maybe so, but it seems to be the only way for your small brain to understand. Which leads me to my next point - you, and your accomplices, will be charged with treason.”

           “Y-you have no evidence-” I rolled my eyes, hands falling over my hips, “You sure about that? Because I currently have eight others who can vouch for me. So, let the real joy of this situation come to light.”

           Out of the corner of my eye, I saw smug smiles on everyone's faces, hearing me put these fools in their place. But more importantly, I noticed that warm smile on Ming’s face, a smile filled with pride.

           My back straightened, holding the Earth Nation document to my chest, “You were so eager to get rid of me. But you will not lose your roles as councilmembers until Fire Lord Zuko comes in power once again. So rather than waking up tomorrow, eager for Fire Lord Zuko to awake – you’re going to wish he doesn’t. Because as long as I’m in this position, you still have your job – you’re going to want me to be in charge from this point on.”

           All the didn’t bother trying to hide their growing grins, watching as three of the most hated members get scolded like school children – stripped of all power and authority.

           I raised my head high, clearing my throat, “Now that’s settled, meetings dismissed.”

           Turning on my heel, trying to look as confident as I possibly could with twigs in my hair, dress ripped in half and covered in mud and ink, I walked out of that room with my chin up. I could hear chairs being pushed back at my words, my lips tugging upwards.

           A few claps could be heard from behind me as I made my way out, and a tired laugh left me. The guards before me amusingly opened the door, sporting prideful grins as the light from the grand hallway flooded my vision.

           And the moment I stepped outside, ready to celebrate my victory – tears streamed down my face.

           I kept on marching forward, my sobs growing in intensity, eyes blood-shot as my shoulders shook every time I tried to hold back another cry. I couldn’t stop it, the way my legs wobbled, a hand covering my mouth to muffle the small whimpers that left my lips as I ran towards my bedroom.

           I hope I made Zuko proud for once.

           I hope that when Zuko wakes up, he smiles at me. I want him to hug me, pepper kisses all over my face, saying how well I did.

           But no matter what.

           Above all things - “I just want to keep you safe, make you happy.” I cried into my hands, “even if its not with me.”

Copyright © 2019 Mystic-Kitten, inc. all rights reserved. No reposting, modifying, or translations of any kind allowed. Thank you for your cooperation.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters portrayed in this story besides Ying Yue Jiang, Lia, Kima, and any future creations.

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

[dreamingofaizawa]

Rescue Me

~~~~Piece inspired by this fic~~~~

Kirishima Eijirou x Suicidal! Fem! Reader

Warnings: Themes of suicide and self harm, near character death, LOTS OF ANGST, sad times (IT GETS BETTER THOUGH I PROMISE)

Category: Angst, fluff

Word count: 2.9 k

****PLEASE do not read this if the warnings make you uncomfortable****

Author’s note: Please take care of yourselves my babies. Remember there are people that care and need you in their lives, even if you don’t know it yet. I love you all 🖤

*

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*

The full moon cast a beautiful blue glow over everything in sight. As you stood on the balcony of your dorm room, you took a look at the other rooms. The last few lights finally dimmed, leaving you to bathe in the cool night air. You’d made sure to say good night to every single one of your 1-A classmates, even little perverted Mineta. For once, his incessant groping didn’t make you want to punt him into the sun. No, this time it was almost comforting.

You lay down, with your head near the balcony rails so you won’t fall and make any noise to alert your classmates. Staring up at the moon, you felt your resolve solidify. This was it. You were finally going to free yourself. You lifted the blade to the soft, pure flesh of your wrist. It was sharp enough that you didn’t feel any pain, just the way you wanted it. After a few minutes you could feel the exhaustion pulling at your mind, and you peered up into the night sky, counting the stars before you closed your eyes for the last time. But as your mind drifted, a thought occurred to you as you heard a light knock...you forgot to lock your door.

*

*

*

Kirishima was in his room, tossing and turning in his sheets. He was waiting, counting the minutes until the sun rose, even though everyone had only just gone to bed. His excitement could barely be contained at the thought of finally confessing his feelings to you when you all woke up. But he was restless, and impatient, and something was worrying him. You’d been acting strange today. You even let Mineta cling to you as you said good night, almost looking like you enjoyed his perverse nature.

He got up out of bed and decided he’d go check on you, and maybe, just maybe, confess a few hours earlier than he had originally planned. He slowly opened his room door and stepped out into the hallway. He took the emergency stairwell so the elevator wouldn’t wake anyone. When he arrived at your room, he knocked on the door. 

You didn’t answer. He knocked again, a little bit louder. And again, and again. Nothing. He was getting really worried now, normally you’d have woken up. He tried the handle on your door, and it gave way. A cold gust swept out into the hallway as he opened the door. Why was your balcony door open? he thought. And then he saw you. Lying on the balcony, blood pooling at your side.

“MR. AIZAWA!” Kirishima’s voice boomed and rattled the entire building, “IT’S Y/N!! SOMEONE HELP! PLEASE!!”.

Within minutes, nearly all of class 1-A had gathered in your room, circling around your body in Kirishima’s arms. The redhead had ripped a piece of his shirt and wrapped it tightly around your wrist. He stood up and carried you down to the common area, where Mr. Aizawa suddenly halted mid-sprint with Iida at his side. His face paled at the sight of Kirishima’s tears rolling onto your limp body in his arms.

*

*

*

You woke up to pure white. Your head was spinning, and you couldn’t formulate any coherent thoughts as you stared up at the light on the ceiling. You opened your eyes a little further, but it was hard. You were extremely weak. And your throat was dry. And your left hand was warm...Why was your left hand warm, and your right so cold? You moved a finger on your left hand, only for it to press against something even warmer. Whatever it was squeezed your hand harder.

A deep voice rang in your ear, “Y/N? Y/N are you awake?”. You blinked a few times, and slowly turned your head to the left, and your eyes focused on Kirishima’s handsome face. But it wasn’t as handsome as it usually was. His face was pale, splotched with red patches. Dark circles sat under his puffy eyes, streaks of old dried tears staining his cheeks. Those ruby eyes no longer shone bright, replaced by dull red orbs riddled with exhaustion.

As you looked at him, fresh tears welled up and fell down his face, a relieved smile graced his quivering lips. He instantly stood and wrapped his arms around you, holding your head to his chest. His entire body shook as he sobbed into your hair, muttering ‘I’m so glad you’re okay’ and ‘Thank you for coming back to me’. You were still in a daze, you had no idea what was going on. You wanted to ask, but when you tried to speak your throat closed up, struggling to make noise with the lack of moisture. You were too weak to move your arms, so you let Kirishima hold you until he was satisfied.

When he finally sat back down in his chair at the side of your bed, he squeezed your hand tight. “How are you feeling, Y/N?” he asked. You opened your mouth to speak again, but choked out a short croak before closing it again and attempting to swallow. He caught on quikly, and reached for the water on the small rolling table next to him. He held the straw up to your mouth and you took small sips as he encouraged you to keep going. “That’s it, there you go. One more sip Y/N. Good girl, take your time”.

After a few minutes, the cup was empty and he placed it back on the table. He grabbed your hand again, caressing your knuckles gently. “Do you know where you are, Y/N?”. You shook your head slowly. “Use your words, pebble. Do you know where you are right now?” he repeated. You managed to croak out a small, “N-no”. He nodded, “There you go. You’re in Recovery Girl’s office”. Your eyebrows pinched lightly. “Why? How l-long?”. He gave you a soft, sad smile.

“You’ve been out for a couple days. I found you on your balcony…” he trailed off, choking on the words and squeezing your hand hard. You clenched your jaw at the memory of staring up at the night sky, remembering you’d forgotten to lock your door, hearing a knock as you drifted. You pieced together what happened after you closed your eyes that night. “Why did you bring me here? I’m supposed to be dead” you said after a few seconds of silence. 

He looked at you in shock and grabbed your face to look at him in the eyes, fresh tears forming once again. His voice quivered and broke with his words, “W-why would you want to do that? I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you… I love you so much… I was gonna ask you out on a date the next morning… Why? Why, Y/N?”. His hands shook against your face. You were staring into his eyes, the desperation and fear shone through them. You didn’t know what to say to that, but he didn’t give you a chance to.

He pulled your face toward him and rested his forehead against yours. “Please, Y/N. I can’t lose you. You’re everything to me” he whispered. He lifted his head and kissed your forehead before holding your head against his chest and kissing the top of your head, stroking your hair. Your chest burned with the sudden urge to cry. This time, your body was the one shaking. For the first time in a long time, you cried, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged somewhere.

Kirishima climbed into the bed next to you and held you as you wept. You cried for what felt like hours. You cried, and cried, and cried, until exhaustion took over and you drifted off to sleep in the redhead’s strong arms. He held you as you slept, feeling your heartbeat through his hands as he rubbed slow circles into your back. He closed his eyes, and allowed himself to fall asleep for the first time in two days, with you wrapped safely in his arms.

*

*

*

You woke up in the same position you’d fallen asleep in, though the lights in the room had dimmed since the last time you had your eyes open. Kirishima was still laying next to you, his large arms circling your waist and shoulders, your head secured above his right pectoral. He’d fallen asleep holding you, and you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t want to stay there in his arms forever. You always had a bit of a crush on the cheery redhead. 

But you needed to use the bathroom, which meant that you needed to wiggle your way out of his grasp without waking him. You took a breath and moved your arm to lift his, but you were still very weak. You guessed it was from the blood loss. Or lack of food and water for two days. Or the more likely option, a nasty combination of the two. You didn’t have the strength to get out of his arms, so you had only one choice.

You placed your hands on his face and began to pat his cheeks. “Kiri...Kiri wake up” you called. He groaned and tightened his hold round your waist. You moved your hands to his shoulders and shook him. Even if you were pushing as hard as you could, it barely moved his muscular frame. “Kirishima Eijiro, wake up. Wake up Kiri!” you said, a little louder. His eyes peeked open and looked into yours. He opened his eyes further and blinked a few times, fully taking in his current situation.

He smiled softly, “Hey there pebble. What’s going on?”. You giggled a little at the nickname. “I have to use the bathroom, Kiri. I can’t get your arms off of me, though” you tell him. He chuckles a little bit and unwraps his arms from around you. He gets up and walks around to your side of the bed to help you sit up. You hold his outstretched hand as you swing your legs over the side of the bed and lower yourself onto the cold tile.

Your legs are shaking like a newborn calf and give out under your weight, but Kirishima loops an arm around your waist and holds you up effortlessly. He lets you catch your  balance and allows you to hold onto him as your legs adjust to walking again. As you walk to the bathroom, he holds you like a crutch, letting you lean your weight on him when you can’t hold up your own weight.

It’s the same as you walk back to bed, but your legs are finally adjusted and you’re almost walking normally. And once you’re back in bed, he sits in his chair and grabs your hand again. “How are you feeling, pebble? Are you hungry?” he asks gently. At the mention of food, your stomach growls softly and you giggle. “Yeah. I could eat something” you confess. He nods and stands up. “I’ll go get something. I’ll be back as soon as I can” he says, and brings your hand up to his mouth and kisses your knuckles.

You blush lightly at the gesture. He opens the door and greets someone, and as he leaves the lights brighten back up. Mr. Aizawa walked into the room, up to the bed and took the seat Kirishima had left empty. He looked just as tired as always. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. “How are you feeling, Y/N?” he asks softly, a gentle lull in the baritone of his voice. 

You loved your homeroom teacher. He had unknowingly filled the empty father figure spot left behind by your biological father, who’d left you and your mother at birth. “I’m alright, Mr. Aizawa”. He gave you a look that said he didn’t believe you, but he left well enough alone. He takes a deep breath. “You do know what needs to happen next, right?”. You nod slowly. “I know” you say, and you look up at him, right into his onyx eyes. “And I think...I think I can do it”. He remains silent, urging you to continue. “I know it’s not going to be easy. But for the first time in a while I feel like I can be happy again”.

He places a hand on your shoulder, reassuring and strong. “That’s good. I need to go inform Nezu of your condition, but Kirishima will be back soon. You’ll be having quite a few visitors once everyone knows you’re awake, so  you’ll need all the strength you can get”. You nod and he gets up to leave. He’s halfway to the door when you call out to him. He turns around, and you wrap your arms around his torso. He’s shocked for a second, but when it finally registers, he pats your head. 

“Thank you so much Mr. Aizawa. And I’m so sorry”. He chuckles a little bit, “For what?” he questions, genuinely curious as to what you could possibly be sorry for. “Thank you for caring about all of us. And me. For being more of a father to me than anyone could. And I’m sorry for worrying you and the rest of the class. I’m sorry that things got this far before I could realize the family I have here. I’m sorry for being so blind to how much you all care for me”. As you get your last few words out, you’re tearing up. And you have no clue that so is your teacher.

He clears his throat and pats your head again. “Don’t you worry about it, kid. Just focus on getting better” he says. You let him go and nod up at him. He pats your head and leaves the room as you return to your place in bed. As you sit there waiting for Kirishima to come back, you think about everything that’s happened since you woke up with him holding onto your hand like it was his lifeline. Everything he said…

‘Holy shit’ you think to yourself. He said he loved me...He was going to ask me out...He said I was his everything...He said he can’t lose me. The redhead’s words swirl in your head like a storm, making your heart race. Why did he say all of that? Was it to make you feel better? Why would he feel that way about you? You’ve never thought of yourself as anything special.

A hand on your shoulder jolted you out of your thoughts. You jumped at the sudden contact, and were met with blazing red eyes and matching hair. “You okay pebble? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you” Kirishima said, softly rubbing your shoulder. You looked at him. Really looked at him. After sleeping, he looked more like himself. His eyes were bright again, the color in his skin returned from the sickly gray you woke up to. And his hair wasn’t styled, it hung down at his neck and around his face. It looked long enough to tie back.

You moved to sit at the edge of the bed, and told him to turn around. He was confused, but did what you asked. “Kneel down, Kiri. On your knees”. Again, he obliged, and you began to comb his hair back with your fingers. “W-what are you doing there pebble?” he asked. You could see the red at the tips of his ears and smiled. “Just give me a minute Kiri”. You took the rubber band from your wrist, gathered his hair and tied it just above the nape of his neck.

“There” you said, tapping the top of his head. He got up and turned around to face you, a faint blush still visible on his cheeks. You smiled at the redhead, “Your hair looks good down”. His cheeks flared up again, nearly matching the color of his hair. You giggled at the sight of such a handsome boy being so bashful. “Kirishima?” you asked, looking up into his eyes. “Yeah, pebble?”. You looked down at your hands in your lap. “Did you mean it?” you asked quietly.

You could tell he was confused at the rather vague question. “Mean what?” he asked. “When you said you loved me. Did you mean it?”. His breath hitched in his throat and he froze. It took him a few seconds to think carefully about his answer. He took a step closer to the bed and grabbed both your hands in his and squeezed. He kneeled down in front of you to look you in the eyes and took a deep breath before he answered. “Yeah. I meant it. And I know it’s a lot for you right now so it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I know you have a lot on your mind right n-”.

You cut him off with a finger on his lips, and he closed his mouth to silence himself. You grabbed his face, leaned down, and kissed his forehead. “I’ve had a crush on you for a while now, Kiri. I can’t say that I love you, but I do like you. I like you a lot. So, when this is all over, how about you take me on that date you wanted to ask me on before I went and screwed everything up?”.

He stood up and leaned his forehead against yours, holding your hands on his face, “You didn’t screw anything up, pebble. You didn’t do anything wrong. You could never do anything wrong. You just got a little lost, and that’s okay”. He grabbed your hands and kissed each of your palms, “And I’ll definitely take you out on a date” he said, shooting you a million-dollar grin.

[milky-pillow]

Song: Then (B.I) / DEMO.1 (131) Characters: Yamada Ichiro, Yamada Jiro, Yamada Saburo, Reader Relationship(s): Yamada Ichiro/Reader

originally posted on ao3 // song lyrics used: here

“I guess I must live on even though you aren’t by my side. Or was it me who wasn’t by your side first?”

You can’t remember the last time you truly smiled. The sunlight beams through the windows, hitting your face. Since you’ve parted with Ichiro, you have filled your life with distractions. Anything that can get your mind off of him worked. You roll off your bed and stretch, letting the sun warm your body. To block any sadness from entering your soul, you decide to go out to eat breakfast.

“A cafe… pancakes maybe? Ooo, and a cup of coffee or something,” you murmur to yourself, feeling your hunger grow by the minute.

Though it’s early, the streets of Ikebukuro are bustling with people. Most people seem to be going to work, their formal clothing making you stick out like a sore thumb.

Quickly ordering your food, you take a seat near a window-- your usual seat. People-watching is calming to you. Their lives seem to be so different from yours and it is the only thing that makes you feel unique. You like to guess what kind of jobs people were making their way towards as they pass. Judging their outfits and comparing it to your own is also another pastime.

“Here’s your order,” a worker comes by and places your drink and food on your table with a smile. Your stomach growls at your thought at finally eating.

You nod to them, “thank you.”

Leaving you be, you spend your time between scrolling your phone, eating, and observing people. Before you know it, an hour passed. Already having paid for your food, you bring your empty plate and glass by the counter and leave to continue your day.

“And I know my words must seem like excuses, but it was never my intention to hurt you.”

“Ichiro, I have my own life to live! Don’t you have your brothers to look out for?” you lashed at Ichiro.

His eyes seemed to flash with anger-- a look you’ve never seen before, “am I not allowed to care for you?”

A pang in your heart. Misunderstanding, yet you couldn’t get yourself to say anything. He could care, but you felt it was getting out of hand. Were you overthinking it? No way. You couldn’t be.

“I never said you couldn’t. Don’t twist my words,” you folded your arms with a huff, “plus, why do you care about me so much now? I thought you were too busy ‘preparing for rap battles’ or whatever. Sometimes it seems like you care more about that stupid hypnosis mic of yours than you care about me!”

“That’s not true Y/n, and you know it! If you had a problem with that, why did you just tell me?”

“You know that’s not what this is about. Don’t change the subject like that.”

You couldn’t believe you were arguing in his home. Not wanting his brothers to see, you made your way towards the door, hoping Ichiro would follow.

“Where are you going now? The bar? Someone else?” His questions made you stop all movement.

Tears filled your eyes as you dropped your head to the ground, “so that’s how you see me? Ichiro, I don’t want to argue here. We can’t have your brothers hearing this; they don’t deserve to hear this.”

As if someone flipped a switch, his tone softened, “look, Y/n… you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It definitely seemed like it though. You know what? Just leave me alone. I can’t handle this right now,” the cracking in your voice gave away your sadness. Ichiro took a step towards you, but you stopped him, “if you cared, you’d give me time. Time: that’s all I ask of you.”

Unable to look at him, you could only listen to his response, “okay, if that’s what you want. Just… know that I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Even if I never learn to love for the rest of my life, if we ever meet again for as long as I live, I promise to keep my loyalty then.”

Looking at your watch, you wait by the gate for Jiro. Compared to Saburo, Jiro sometimes has you tutor him. Every Wednesday is what you both agreed on. Since then, you dread Wednesdays. It means you have to go into their home. The same home that you and Ichiro argued in. You are lucky enough that Ichiro is usually out, but when he’s around you do your best to avoid talking to him at all costs.

“Did I make you wait long?” Jiro runs over to you, clearly out of breath.

You shake your head, “no. I just got here a few minutes ago, and waiting doesn’t hurt.”

Jiro makes small talk while you head over to his house, boasting about something amazing Ichiro has done earlier that week. While it tends to go in one ear and out the other, he says something interesting: “he doesn’t want me to tell you, but he saw you while you were shopping over the day. He told Saburo and I that he was too nervous to talk to you. Nervous! Brother Ichiro is never like that!”

You are taken aback by what Jiro said, “he was? He shouldn’t have to feel that way, that’s so unlike him.”

Jiro laughs, agreeing with your statement as you both enter his living room and get started on tutoring.

“How did you get that?” Jiro will ask every once in a while on a math problem. As usual, you’ll walk him through each step until he understands the concept.

Every once in a while Saburo will pop in to pick on his older brother, or you’ll take breaks for snacks, but for the most part, you were incredibly focused on helping Jiro.

“I woke up from a deep dream, but was never able to tell you that you were the reason I felt like I was living.”

The day after your dispute with Ichiro, you woke up in a cold sweat. Unable to recall anything that happened the previous night, you check your phone for the time.

12:45 pm. You overslept. You were lucky to not have any plans that day or you would’ve been screwed.

You sat up in disbelief when remembering your argument with Ichiro. “That really happened,” you told yourself. Part of you wanted to reach out to him, but you couldn’t get yourself to. While you remembered the hurtful words exchanged, you weren’t able to figure out what started the situation in the first place.

“He really thought I had another destination when leaving,” you feel your cheeks flare. Were you angry? Or maybe embarrassed? What made him think that in the first place?

You fall back onto your bed, covering your face with a pillow, tears slowly spreading and soiling your clean rectangular mold of fluff. What to do now? The person you deemed your other half seems to have turned into something else.

“Time?” you wept, “Is that really what I need?” Maybe reconciliation is what you needed, but you couldn’t dare to face him properly. If anything, you believed he needed to apologize and face the problem first. But how could he if he obeyed your wish for time apart? You didn’t dare think aloud, fearing that the worst would only come out of it.

It didn’t help that you would still have to see him every now and then. While twice or three times a week wasn’t harmful, you felt yourself becoming uneasy at the thought of seeing him. Either way, you had to get over it, there’s no avoiding it. You knew this, but you found it hard to accept it.

For the next hour, you reminded yourself of the happy memories the two of you had made together: the theme park visits, the cafe dates, the rap practices. Even the bittersweet memories of your winter walks and deep eye-opening discussions had you yearning for him.

It’s only been a day, it’s felt like a lifetime.

“I’m hoping this isn’t the end‒ I must see you soon.”

“I’m back!” Ichiro announces, entering the Ikebukuro home, unaware of your presence.

The two younger brothers run to the door to greet him while you sit in silence. Usually you’re able to fully avoid him, but there are times like this where he comes home earlier than expected.

“Ichiro! I got a one-hundred on my exam today!” Saburo beams to his eldest brother.

Jiro gets in front of Ichiro and excitedly announces, “I’m finally passing one of my classes thanks to Y/n!”

Pointing to you, his eyes immediately make their way to you. You avoid his gaze, sheepishly rubbing your neck.

“It’s nothing really,” you let out a nervous laugh, “Jiro just needed a push in the right direction is all.”

Ichiro makes his way over to you to eye you better, “thank you, Y/n. But have you been taking care of yourself? You look… tired. Have you been getting enough rest? You know you have to look after yourself.”

You look up at him, revealing your eye bags. He didn’t even have to see your face to recognize your exhaustion? A warm feeling spread through your body at the thought of him caring, but you didn’t let it get to your head.

“I- I do. It was just one of those nights where I didn’t get enough rest, I guess,” you lie with a tired smile. Sweat rolls down the side of your face and you’re unsure whether it’s from feeling unwell or from anxiousness.

“Y/n, are you sure?” Ichiro turns to his younger siblings, “Did you guys notice this?” They look at each other before shaking their heads.

“Look, Ichiro, I’m fine. I am taking care of myself. I even took a walk today!”

“Was that really it? Or was it because you picked up my brother from school?”

“No, really! I walked to that one cafe in the city that I go to all the time for breakfast today. Again, Ichiro, don’t worry about me.”

As much as you wanted to tell him to hop off you, you couldn’t get yourself to, so you let him continue to interrogate you and your well-being. Though, it wasn’t like you’d tell him the truth anyways.

“We left the memory of time losing its breath on the other side; But we brought back to reality the cherished memories we made so sadly, yet beautifully and now we must rewrite our story that we never wanted to bring to an end.”

There was a specific time that you recalled that day where you have never felt happier by Ichiro’s side. You two made a spontaneous trip to the seaside for the weekend. While you claimed it was to get away from the city, it was really to spend more time together. Luckily Jiro and Saburo were okay with being without Ichiro for those two days or you would’ve had to take them with you guys.

When you both arrived at the hotel, you raced each other to the hotel room. The winner got to decide what to do first and with so much to do, both of you wanted the upper hand on how to start the weekend that awaited the both of you.

Much to your surprise, you won with Ichiro being a few steps behind you. Letting out a victorious cheer, you open the door to the room you will be staying in. While you and Ichuro had organized your belongings, you decided to take a stroll by the beach first.

“The beach? Did you want to get a tan or build a sandcastle or something?” Ichiro laughed.

You shook your head, “not really, I just wanted to relax with a walk before we get into the heavy stuff, you know? Take it as a warm up for all the moving we’ll be doing later.” In all honesty, you just wanted to walk along the foreshore and mess around with him, but you didn’t want to sound like a kid. Building a sandcastle did pique your interest as his mentioning of it, so maybe you’ll consider it.

You took your bathing suit out from your suitcase along with some light clothing, going to the bathroom to change into them. When you came out, Ichiro had decided to change while waiting, wearing a different outfit than he was previously.

“Ready for the best trip ever?” Ichiro extended his hand for you to take. From the moment you took his hand till the end of the weekend, you had experienced such happiness that you knew you’d never get such an experience again.

“I dream a sad dream every night. I dance within the loss. Who will become my light? Will you ever extend your hand to me?”

“Y/n, you’re gonna stay for dinner, right?” Saburo gives you an innocent smile, but you know he’s doing it on purpose.

You hesitate, and before you can decline, Jiro pipes in, “take it as a thanks for all the tutoring!”

Reluctantly agreeing, you end up sitting with them to eat dinner. Jiro and Saburo brag to Ichiro about random things they did recently. All you do is listen and eat silently. The warmth of the food adds to the flavor of the food. You begin to list random ingredients that could be in the meal to busy yourself.

“So,” Saburo changes the subject, “how come you and Ichiro don’t hang out as much anymore?”

You look up at him in surprise, nearly choking on your food, “well, uh…”

“Saburo, don’t just ask questions like that,” Ichiro scolds him.

“No, it’s okay. I owe an explanation anyways,” you take another bite of the dinner before explaining, “I just needed some time alone. I thought it would help me to do something like that. I mean, I’ve seen loads of people do it and they come back a new and improved person, you know? Well, clearly that didn’t work out so well.”

The air seems to have thickened, but you laugh it off and wave your hands to dismiss your statement.

“Um, Y/n,” Ichiro whispers your name so his brothers don’t take notice, “could we talk after dinner?”

You nod, growing nervous. Because of that, you rush to eat your food before it gets to a point where you can’t eat anymore. The two younger brothers watch in both astonishment and confusion, but don’t ask any questions.

After dinner, Saburo and Jiro go back to their rooms to prepare for bed. With you and Ichiro sitting together, alone, Ichiro struggles to find where to start.

“How much longer do you plan on making yourself suffer?”

Out of anything he could have said, you weren’t expecting that.

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shrug and attempt to play it off.

“I know you, Y/n. Why are you trying so hard to avoid me anyways? Was it because of that argument from before? That was months ago!”

“I- look. I didn’t want you babying me like you do with your brothers, okay? I’m not your sibling. I’m my own person. You pestered me so much about taking care of myself that I was overwhelmed I guess. I don’t even know. But after that night everything went downhill.”

“I didn’t know,” Ichiro looks down at his feet, “but was it really just that? It seemed like there was more bothering you that night.”

“Well,” you debate on whether or not to tell him, but decide it’s for the best that he knows, “you kind of assumed I was going to mess around when I was about to leave.”

“But I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Maybe you didn’t, but it sticks. Either way, I guess I was being too sensitive that night,” you cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, “I’m sorry Ichiro. I’m so sorry.”

“Y/n, it’s okay,” he pulls your hands away and looks into your eyes with a soft expression. He pulls you into a hug as you begin to cry, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have pestered you too much. I’ll be sure to not annoy you like that, but it just happens sometimes.”

You laugh, “that’s fine, as long as it’s not about every little thing I do. I forgive you.”

After the end of that conversation, you both decide to catch up on what happened over the past few months. The night ended up being full of laughter and happiness-- something you weren’t expecting to experience so soon.

END.

[abduct-me-helen]

Class 108's Apocalypse Field Trip | Chapter 1.

The world ended on a Tuesday. Quite suddenly, halfway through class. After the sky split open and green light bathed the earth, things changed. Some lived.

Some didn’t.

Class 108 stayed together, for the most part. They took up a base in the school, and boarded up the windows and doors.

Sydney was the one who first learned they didn’t need to eat. Other revelations of that sort followed. Sleep was not needed, nor was water. Air seemed to be, though, as they learned after Cal passed out from holding their breath.

The first one to die was Cú.

They don’t talk about Cú.

-

Of course, some things are unavoidable in the end. Logically, Sydney knew it was only a matter of time before something managed to slip under the cracks and they’d all get killed; god knows they’d narrowly scraped by enough times to be considered cosmically lucky. Tabitha had been spreading rumors, as was her nature, about the school itself being sentient, trapping them inside with false promises of safety.

On the worse days, Sydney believed it.

Sydney stepped into the classroom slowly, craning her head to where Tabitha and Rosie were explaining their theories. She didn’t know which theories, but she’d heard most of them by now.

“G’morning.” She said.

It was night.

No, she thought, the sky is dark, but that doesn’t mean it’s night.

Rosie gestures towards a desk, and she avoids the chair toppled over at her feet as she sits down on top of it. She takes not of who else had decided to attend this “session” of theirs today. There are 12 students left out of the thirty who had originally made up the class. Ten of them had disappeared after running away from the school in shock after the eye in the sky had first opened. They hadn’t been in homeroom during the “blink,” which is what they’d taken to call the eye opening, and hadn’t seen any teachers since that day.

She remembered it vividly.

Ms. Bruis had tensed, eyes wide in shock, before telling them to calm down and stay indoors. She immediately went outside the room to check on everyone else.

That was the last time they’d seen Ms. Bruis, but not the last time they’d seen her face.

Besides the initial chaos, there wasn’t anything attacking the school. It was just shouting and screaming and running. Sydney had stayed in the classroom, clumsily trying to close the blinds on the window.

People just, left. And they didn’t come back.

The first venture was when they lost Cú. She doesn’t like to talk about him, never mind think about him. Nonetheless, her mind often drifts towards his death.

It was about four hours after the chaos. People had been nearly sucked out of the building, teachers included. The only ones that remained were the thirty students of 108.

Sydney didn’t know why they were the only ones to remain. She still doesn’t now.

The students decided to have a short party go out and scout. Sydney, Katie, Cú, Tabitha and Rosie. Four survived, one did not.

Rosie was always the thinker of the group, and as such she took the front. Katie was chosen for her seemingly nonchalant disposition to going, and Tabitha for her mind, which was always going too fast and often arriving at far-out conclusions. Despite this, she was a quick-witted person and had been selected for her dexterity and speed. Cú was selected for his physicality. He was a teddy bear, but a strong teddy bear.

It didn’t save him in the end.

And Sydney, well, she was cautious. She wonders if she could’ve saved Cú if she’d been just a little bit wearier.

They wandered a few blocks before hearing the sound of skin and bone splitting. Tabitha immediately ran toward the sound, as was her nature. The rest, Rosie at the lead, followed, hiding behind a corner.

Katie didn’t make a face, but even she was visibly pale.

When the sound came again, louder, and a creature made of wet flesh and twisted muscle stepped out of the alleyway, she became practically white.

Sydney retched. She’s not ashamed to admit it, you would’ve too. Anyone would’ve retched if they saw that sight.

It got worse.

“Hello?! Someone! Help me, please!”

It was Ms. Bruis-no, it looked like Ms. Bruis.

Cú ran. He dodged the creature, running to Ms. Bruis and starting to try to pick her up off the ground, before he noticed she was rooted to the cement. His eyes widened as blood ran down her face

She smirked.

Sydney will always remember the flash of teeth before she plunged her hand-no, her claw-into his stomach. He made a choked sound before the creature bounded back over and ripped his jaw clean off.

They ran. They ran. They ran.

And then they came back to the classroom, and they wept.

There were more expeditions after that. They lost seven more after that, but in those ventures, they collected knowledge. This knowledge went on Rosie’s list, though it also doubled as a rulebook.

-

THE LIST

1. Some creatures can make copies of people you know in order to trick you. They don’t bleed, so your best shot at not meeting eyeball daddy up close is to yeet the fuck outta there//bold of you to assume I don’t want to meet eyeball daddy uwu//

2. Don’t trust meat. Ever. Meat comes alive. WE ARE VEGANS IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2018(?)

3. Don’t answer the door, even if you’re armed. No, Eric, we do not count your big muscles™ as a weapon.

4. If you MUST answer the door, don’t. You have been stopped.

5. A short section on the happenings of the places(?) known to us as “nightmares.”

Nightmares trap humans in these crazy places. We’ve only seen two, but they are extremely dangerous, and both encounters ended in casualties. They trap your mind and make you experience terrible things, and like the rest of the world (to our knowledge at least) don’t follow normal time or space rules. Basically, if you want to avoid a ,’ , |,’_’, you should not screw with that shit.

6. Always check with someone else before eating or drinking. Sometimes, your mind will play tricks on you and you won’t notice that you’re eating something…not good. Honor cal for their sacrifice regarding this matter (sorry cal)

7. Always shut the blinds. Eyeball daddy is watching you//YOU DID NOT NEED TO SAY THAT TABITHA

8. Don’t leave the building without consulting all of class 108.

9. Don’t read books that others haven’t read first, especially if it says it’s from the library of Jurgen LeitnerSTUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING JURGEN LEITENER GOD DAMN FOOL BOOK COLLECTING DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIO//yes, Riko, we get it, but good point. Be Jared, 19.

10. Don’t invite anyone in.

-

“What are we on today?” Sydney asked.

“Tabitha’s on about the categories again.” Cal said.

“I really think it could work!” she said loudly. “Look, there’s consistencies in every single encounter we’ve had. Think about it. Remember what happened at the theater?”

Katie grimaced silently. “How could we forget?”

Tabitha ignored her. “The webs. Spiders and the rest of those insects are different categories. The wriggly silver worms are more like, bugs and wriggly things and judging from the infestation we had they all work together.”

“Like a hive?” Cal asked.

Tabitha nodded. “Exactly like that. Spiders are different though; you saw how many were crawling about during the amphitheater incident. And that whole thing was about control. All those people who were laughing…they, they were there. They didn’t want to do it! They didn’t want to laugh, you saw their eyes. They were being controlled. And when,” she paused, gritting her teeth, “and when Marcy died she was being controlled too. Puppeted.”

That’s two. Then we come to the next one, guns and murder and war and shit like that. Simple enough. But I think it has to be humans killing humans, because the thing that killed, killed Cú wasn’t like that. It was, it was different. I don’t know. I’ll get back to that.

“Then we have the cover up, or the anonymous things. Things like those little creatures that hide in your plates that you can’t notice are there until someone tells you. That’s why I’m confused, because I think the weird fleshy creature we faced was aligned with that but also with those meat things that broke Rosie’s leg. I don’t know how to explain it, but, ah. Sorry. I think they’re the same category.”

“I’ll humor you; can a thing be two categories?” Katie questioned her dully.

“I think so. Maybe it’s like colors? Really angry colors. They’re all separate, but the same because they’re all made of the same stuff. And they all blur together sometimes?”

“Yeah,” Katie snorted, “we’re being killed by really angry colors.”

Tabitha flushed. “Hey! It was just an analogy.”

Rosie seemed to be considering what Tabitha had said, before she looked up. “I believe you.”

“Y-you do?” Tabitha blinked, taken back.

Rosie nodded. “It makes sense. Really angry colors.”

“Really angry colors.”

-

A few hours-well, time was weird, but Sydney supposed it was hours-later, the class was doing yoga. Well, not “yoga” per se. They were beating each other on the head with torn up yoga mats.

“Hey!” Riko shouted as Tabitha tripped over her mat while chasing Cal. “Watch it! This is where I sleep!”

Tabitha stuck her tongue out and Katie snorted, not looking up from her book. Sydney wondered how she did that; Katie always seemed to have an astounding amount of situational awareness at all times.

“Real mature.” Katie groused.

Tabitha grinned, and Rosie smiled softly.

“I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU MEET EYEBALL DADDY!” she shouted to Cal, who’s eyes widened in mock fear.

“Oh no! The horror! OwO!” They said dramatically.

“Did they just say “OwO”?” Sydney asked in a deadpan. Rosie nodded solemnly.

“You ever wonder…” Sydney trailed off, the muffled shouting of their peers drowned out into the background.

“Wonder what?” Rosie tilted her head in question.

“What happened to Mr. Sims.”

“He’s probably…not with us anymore.”

“Yeah. Still, could you imagine? He was a bloody cryptid. He’d probably take all this with no sweat.”

“Maybe he’d give us concerts too.”

“Good ole Jonny D’Ville.”

Rosie snickered.

“You know how he always drew eyes everywhere? During tests?”

“Oh god, don’t mention that to Tabitha, I don’t need her going on about another conspiracy.”

Sydney grinned to herself and Rosie groaned.

“Well, I was thinking, maybe it was an omen.”

“An omen?”

“Yeah. I’ve never been spiritual really, but the worlds gone to shit so who knows what’s real. Maybe the Mayans were just a few days off.”

“Ah, the apocalypse calendar.”

“Indeed.”

-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

A noise rang out from the entrance to the school, loud and imposing. Sydney’s heart started to thump wildly in terror.

They all shot up, and Katie got her switchblade out from her pocket. She was lucky enough to have it on her at the blink, and it was their best weapon.

Cypress shot inside the classroom silently, eyes wide, red curls bouncing. He clicked the door shut quietly, pale. “The others sent me. They’re hiding in place. I think we should just stay put.”

Rosie nodded, gesturing him to come over. She placed a finger over her lips in order to get them to stay silent, then nodded to Katie. Katie had always been gifted with really good hearing, and it had saved their assess more than enough times for Rosie to know that letting her try to hear who was at the door was the best safe bet for situation and the time being.

Katie closed her eyes, but after a quarter of a minute shook her head.

That’s when they heard it.

“Hello!”

Sydney brought a hand to her mouth to clamp down a scream.

It was Cypress.

Eyes wide, she glanced over to Cypress, her Cypress, who’s expression was now glazed over. Was his skin always that waxy? Why was his hair so smooth? It looked like that of a dolls, curls made of softly bent plastic.

Katie saw the flicker of light before she saw the blade, and she lunged.

Her switchblade pierced his skin-no, his stuffing, with a sound akin to ripping a toy. It didn’t seem to stop this not-Cypress.

Oh god, Sydney thought, today is the day I die.

There was a sound like static now in the air, and the faint smell of burning. Sydney began to feel sick, almost lightheaded.

The door swung open, and Sydney whipped her head around to see Cypress, who was trailed by…Mr. Sims?

[miaicefyre]

My headcannon

Juane washes Oscars wounds

“C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up”

They sat in the giant Shnee bathroom, his coat hung on a peg outside, his boots sat just beside the door so he was down to just his top and trousers.

He nodded “Mm’kay”

At first Oscar had protested against the idea, saying they’d only been given an hour and they shouldn’t waste time on him, but given they had some explaining to do anyway...he agreed so long they agreed to listen to what Emerald had to say.

Jaune went over to the bath and set the tap running, testing the temperature then looked back at Oscar in time to see him wince trying to take his top off. Jaune felt a rush of sympathy and regret looking at him. Beneath the scorched fabric, the burn was red-raw, and angry dent in the boys chest. He wandered if it would ever fully heal. While his aura-amp had fixed up most of his ribs, the bruises still seemed to be there. At the time, he’d just focused on getting Oscar back on his feat after the explosion. He honestly hadn’t had much aura left himself after there run in with Salam. and even where there weren’t bruises, patches of dust and dirt had still managed to seep through his coat. He really did need this bath.

Leaving the tap on slow fill, Jaune took the discarded shirt and opened the door just enough to try and hang it on the same leg as the coat. Someone would come for them later, he knew. Weather it was Wiess, Cline or even mrs. Shnee, he felt sure they’d have some clean clothes by the time they were done.

When he looked back, he found Oscar leaning over the edge of the tub, with his hands on its edge. He looked as though he was finding it somewhat difficult to get in, his arms and legs shaking slightly. Jaune went to help, giving him something to lean on while lowering himself gently into the slowly expanding stretch of water. He suddenly realised it wasn’t just a wash he needed, but rest as well.

He still had those bandages he always wore on his neck but when Jaune took them off he noticed some old scars across his throat. “How long have you had those?”

Oscar raised a hand to the scars, as if he’d only just remembered they were there. “About a decade.”

Jaune took up a sponge, squeezed it full of water and gently rubbed the boys shoulder. “You never told anyone about them.”

He shrugged. “No one ever asked.”

He decided to drop the subject, and not to mention it to anyone else either.

Neither of them said anything else until Jaune got his wrist and a reflex caused Oscar to wince and pull away.

“Sorry.” Jaune said “does that hurt?”

“Only a little.”

He could see why. Thin markings were clearly visible all down his wrist. When he started on his other shoulder and noticed similar markings on his other wrist, the realisation struck him. “Did they tie your hands?”

“Only when it was him.” Oscar stifled a chuckle. “I don’t think she really saw me as much of a threat...but she didn’t wanna take any chances with him.

All of a sudden, his feelings of anger towards Ozpin mixed with his feelings of responsibility for Oscar and he found himself feeling bad for the old man.

“Hold still.” With the softer side of the sponge, he dabbed at the blood by the corner of his mouth, only mildly surprised to see the cut underneath had completely healed. “Sounds like he had it pretty ruff...did take all of it though, did he.”

Oscar didn’t bother asking how he knew that. “No. But that was because I didn’t want him too. He wasn’t gonna force it. Not again.”

Momentarily confused, Jaune let the sponge fall. “Why? Why wouldn’t you want him to?” He realised just a second too late how mean that question actually sounded but Oscar didn’t seem to mind.

“I didn’t want them to know he was ready there. Otherwise, it would’ve been worse...was, worse.” He looked at the markings on his wrists. Once again, Jaune felt a pang of sympathy for Ozpin.

Filling a jug full of water, Jaune said “head back.” And Oscar did so, letting the water wash though his hair to drop back into the tub. It was getting dirtier now but they were almost done. “Your very brave.” Juane told Oscar, running his fingers through his wet hair. “You always have been...but that was kinda foolish.”

Once more, he saw the boy holding back a laugh. “It was him she really wanted...and I wasn’t gonna give her what she wanted.” Juane could help but smile too at that, but then it quickly faded when he realised “but you did in the end.”

Up till then, Oscars eyes had been closed but now he opened them. “Yeah.” He lowered his gaze to the slowly dirtying water.

“Hay.” Abandoning both jug and sponge, Juane put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be ashamed. You held up for as long as you could. And...in a way I-I’m glad Oz was there for you...to take hits when, you no longer could.”

That didn’t seem to help much. Oscar lowered his head, his eyes becoming hidden in the dripping locks of his hair. Juane sighed, letting the subject simmer for a while. He would realise in time.

They kept quiet until Juane turned his attention to the scar on Oscars chest. He didn’t want to risk touching it, for fear it would just cause more pain, so he just placed the sponge just above it and pressed it there, causing the water to run down the wound. Even that cause the boy to wince and suck in his breath in pain.

“Shh, this want take a sec.” Jaune tried to reassure him.

Hoping the boy wouldn’t notice, he also tried a bit of his aura amp again but, not to much of his surprise, it didn’t seem to make it any better.

That just left the bruises over his ribs. The water had risen to just below his chest by now, meaning those bruises were partly submerged. This made it a little harder to see them but easier to get them clean.

“Did Hazel do this to you?” Jaune asked, rubbing the bruises away, careful not to press to hard.

“Most of it.” Oscar told him, nodding.

“It doesn’t make sense.” Juane said “Why would he suddenly go from beating your ass to saving it?”

For a moment, Oscar started to look a little smug. “Cause even while he was doing that, I was tryn’a get him to turn...make him see what he was doing was wrong.”

“And how did you manage that in the end?”

“Simple. I told him the truth.”

But before he could ask any more questions, there was a knock on the bathroom door.

Getting up, Jaune turned off the tap and went to see who it was.

It turned out to be Wiess, holding a pile of clean clothes. “Freshly washed.” She says, handing them to him

That was bloody quick

“We’re waiting in the dinning room when your done.”

Jaune took the cloths. “Thanks. We should be out in a minute.”

When he closed the door and looked back, he saw Oscar was laying back in the water, his arms outstretched above him, as if he were examining something on his hands. The marks on his wrist were still there but they were much less visible then before. You had to actually be looking for them and even then to be pretty up close to be able to spot them.

He looked up when Jaune took a towel from the rail and came towards him. Crouching down, he let Oscar put an arm around his shoulders in order to help him out of the tub and Wrapped the towel around his shoulders.

“There.” Juane told him. “That didn’t take to long.”

Meanwhile

“What did you do to him?!”

Emerald stood pouting in a corner while the others looked at her accusingly. “I never touched the boy. I barely even saw him. It was mostly Hazels job to...try and get him to talk.”

“But why...what was she wanted to know?”

Emerald shrugged. “Probably a few things. All I know is that at that moment, she has the lamp but didn’t know how to use it.”

Blake nodded. “So that’s why she needed Oscar.”

There was a pause for a while.

“Did he?” Yang asked, unable to take the silence much longer. “Did he tell her?”

Emerald shook her head. “But I...sometimes a-I could hear it...all the hits...and the screams.” She closed her eyes and looked away. “It was horrifying...listing to him cry out like that”

Was she actually feeling sorry for him?

“But you didn’t try to stop it!”

She actually laughed. “How could I? Then it would’ve been me on the receiving end. They tortured him...beating him until he wept but...he never gave in. I kind of admired that.” She looked up to where Jaune had taken Oscar to get cleaned up. “He’s a brave boy.”

There were looks of shock and sympathy all around. Ruby in particular looked close to tears.

“But wait.” Yang realised “he said Ozpin took the torture for him.”

That seemed to stump Em for a second. “I wandered about that too when I heard cause...I’m pretty sure it was the boy to begin with. Even though it wasn’t really him she wanted...that was the other thing she thought the torture would do. Try and draw the old man out. And I guess it worked in the end but I-I honestly couldn’t tell the difference.”

But that just caused them to ask more questions.

“Why would he want to keep control while going through that?”

“Because I think he knew. If she knew Ozpin was really still there, it would’ve been harder on both of them. He knew that.”

“Well then why would he end up giving it to him in the end.”

Em shrugged again. “I don’t know, I guess it just became too much.” Then when they all just looked her blankly. “Look, I’m not gonna pretend I knew what was going on in that head of his, But if I had to guess, I’d say when we were all brought to the bridge to watch the whale land on atlas, it was him in control then.”

“So you did see him.”

“That was the first time I saw him. Being dragged from that cell it...it looked like he could barely walk.”

Two things happened one after the other: Ruby stifled a sob and the door opened to reveal Wiess coming in. Thanks that later, no one seemed to notice Ruby.

“They say there almost done.” Weiss told the others, referring to Jaune and Oscar. She glared at Emerald as she passed but said nothing.

“Good, cause we really need to talk about things.”

Maybe he’d be able to validate Emeralds claims but they had other problems.

It was a another few minutes until they came in. He still looked a little pale but at least he was clean. Yang moved towards him but he waved her away. “I’ll be fine, don’t fuss.”

He stopped just in front of Emerald. “They treating you alright?” He muttered to her.

She nodded vaguely.

He went to stand my the window...

Let’s be real, it probably didn’t actually happen like this but it still would’ve been nice to see how Oscar went from beaten and tattered to clean and fresh.