#shaken but okay it was about ten feet in front of me when it hit

[infinityactual]

Went out to get lunch. Almost got crushed instead.

If I hadn't been driving like a grandma, I'd have been under it when it landed. Don't speed in the rain, folks.

[darsynia]

Trust Fall | Ch 25a

Story Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: Tony/OC, ‘terrorists made us fall in love;’ IM1 timeline. In this chapter, Emory leaves for her mission (complete with a wheelchair and fake oxygen tank), and Tony helps Darsy not scream when Tumblr fucks with this chapter four times before it gets properly posted. look. LOOK.

Length: 2,901

Taglist: @starryeyes2000 @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @themaradaniels @starksbf @chickensarentcheap @tiny-anne @thorfics @chibijusstuff

Note: The word 'caustic' has a second, lesser-known meaning best described as 'the patterns light makes when refracted through a reflective surface like water or glass.' Think swimming pools or water glasses hit by sunlight!

I used 'caustic echo' (chapter title) as a reflection of something or someone familiar seen in a different light, a new way of seeing Obediah, Sharon (aka. Agent Harris), Rory, or even the scientist Emory's mission is about contacting...

Excerpt:

It’s still dark when they take the stairs down to the parking garage to find Natasha’s car in a darkened corner. Nat gets out and hands over a phone that’s the same make and model as the one left behind in the apartment.

“This has a full contact list including messages. You’ll want to go over them, especially the ones between you and Agent Harris.” 

It hadn’t occurred to Emory that not having a phone might be suspicious. “I will, thank you,” she tells Natasha, holding her phone up for Clint, who is piling his gear into the trunk. “You could have warned me, ‘William Never-Tells!’”

“It’s official. That is the worst archery joke I’ve ever heard. Stark’s gonna dump you.”

“If you want good jokes, don’t wake me up before 7 AM!” she snipes back. In response, Clint adjusts the arrows in his quiver to look like a held-up middle finger before hopping into the front passenger seat.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Caustic Echoes

Emory’s shaken awake to a dark room.

“Hey, Em. Really hoping you’re not hung over,” Clint says.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t blow you out the window,” she groans, pulling the pillow over onto her head. He chuckles.

“You’d never do it, we’re friends now,” he teases. “I got the call. Time to move out.”

“Can I play my ‘get out of mission free’ card?”

“Nope. Get dressed, okay? Should be out the door in ten.”

With that, Clint pulls the door shut behind him but leaves the overhead light on, the bastard. Emory pushes the pillow off of her head onto the floor and winces at the brightness.

“Fuck,” she says. Forcing herself to her feet, she gets dressed in the simple black suit and blue blouse that Nat had given her. The jacket has a lot of hidden pockets, and when Natasha first handed it over, Emory had joked about whether the pockets numbered more than Agent Harris’s secrets. Black Widow’s enigmatic smile and shrug hadn’t been very comforting then, and the memory isn’t very comforting now.

“You almost ready?” Barton calls out from the hallway. Emory grabs her phone, slips on her sturdy black boots, and rushes out to follow him. “Oh. Stick that back on to charge,” Clint says, nodding to her phone. “Communications dark.”

“Even if I promise to leave it off?” Tony had given her the phone, it’s somewhat of a mental lifeline.

“Yeah. Even if that wasn’t part of the plan, I’d feel better if you did. Who knows what Stark installed on that thing?” As if that was the end of the argument, he goes over to the basket on the counter and grabs an apple. “Want one?”

“That better not be a Stark vs. Apple joke,” she warns. “Be right back.”

His laughter chases her down the hall. Right before she plugs her phone in, Emory pops the device out of its protective case and tucks that into one of the hidden pockets of her jacket. Tony had given her that, too, and it’s better than nothing.

It’s still dark when they take the stairs down to the parking garage to find Natasha’s car in a darkened corner. Nat gets out and hands over a phone that’s the same make and model as the one left behind in the apartment.

“This has a full contact list including messages. You’ll want to go over them, especially the ones between you and Agent Harris.” 

It hadn’t occurred to Emory that not having a phone might be suspicious. “I will, thank you,” she tells Natasha, holding her phone up for Clint, who is piling his gear into the trunk. “You could have warned me, ‘William Never-Tells!’”

“It’s official. That is the worst archery joke I’ve ever heard. Stark’s gonna dump you.”

“If you want good jokes, don’t wake me up before 7 AM!” she snipes back. In response, Clint adjusts the arrows in his quiver to look like a held-up middle finger before hopping into the front passenger seat. “Why can’t he be the mission leader?” she groans, leaning her head onto Natasha’s upper arm.

“You’ll do great. Remember, every insecurity just makes you more credible. We’ll build you back up when it’s all over, ok?” Nat says, petting her head before stepping back.

These two agents feel like her friends, not her coworkers. Emory’s touched, but she also remembers what Tony had said about something being ‘off’ at SHIELD. Impulsively, she steps close to Natasha and lowers her voice to a whisper, even though it’s 5:20 in the morning in a deathly quiet residential parking garage.

“Tony told me the mission data for SHIELD is strange, like something’s not right,” she says. It sounds childish when spoken aloud, but Emory presses on. “Whatever it is, he’s doing more investigating, but it sounded serious. The kind of thing that a long-time employee can recognize, even if you brush it off as unrealistic unless it’s not just you that’s noticing.”

“But he didn’t try to stop you from doing this mission?”

That's a valid question, but Emory has a counter to it: “I need the serum, and maybe SHIELD’s a safer bet than some of the bad guys that are out there?”

Natasha’s face twists into a self-deprecating smile. “That’s the damned truth.” Her watch chimes some kind of an alarm. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Okay,” Emory says. She watches the two agents drive away with mixed feelings, but smiles at Clint’s wink. “Chaotic dad energy,” she whispers to herself.

Without them, Emory feels terribly exposed. She looks down at the phone in her hand-- and realizes that it would probably fit in the case she’s got hidden in her jacket.

She’s barely finished messing with it when a cherry red SUV pulls into the parking garage and drives right over to the darkened area where Emory is lurking. Before it’s fully stopped, the passenger door on her side slides open and a red haired woman wearing Emory’s exact same outfit steps out. She’s a little taller, but everything else is spot on.

“Thanks, Amanda,” Agent Harris says as she gets out on the driver’s side, handing over a shopping bag and a set of car keys.

“Good luck,” the woman says. “It’ll be nice having my own hair back, anyway.” From the bag, she pulls out a baseball cap. A minute later, she’s got most of the hair twisted up underneath it, and she’s swapped her black blazer with a jean jacket from the bag. Her appearance has gone from ‘finance professional’ to ‘exhausted grad student’ in ninety seconds.

“Lay low for a few days. Stick the wig in your hope chest for Roleplay Night,” Harris says with a crooked grin. She seems like a completely different person than the cool, standoffish agent Emory knows her as.

“Sure.” Amanda rolls her eyes. “The day Richard proposes is the day I stop going undercover, so, probably never? See ya. Stay safe.”

“We’ll try.” 

Emory watches the other woman walk confidently off into the depths of the parking garage before turning to look at Agent Harris. “I didn’t realize we needed a decoy,” she whispers. Behind them, a car door closes, followed by the sound of an engine starting up.

“Your boyfriend's the one who almost tossed a million-dollar wrench into my op!” Harris says. “Amanda helped us get the necessary optics in case you were otherwise occupied. Get in, we need to get moving. I have some fast talking to do with the charter company about that tank.”

Emory does as she’s told, but she wonders what happened in the last day or so to change so much of the plan-- unless this was always going to happen, and she's just out of the loop. As soon as she’s settled in, Harris shifts into drive, literally and figuratively.

“The tank has two valves. One controls the oxygen that leads to your mask. The other will release an aerosol agent that had been shown to incapacitate anyone with the DNA changes prompted by the serum we’re after,” she says, expertly navigating the city streets on the way to the airport. She looks back at Emory in the rear view and adds, “That’s why you were still unconscious when you arrived at the Triskelion.”

All Emory can do is stare at her. She wants to ask if Tony was around when they puffed experimental incapacitation dust in her face to see what it would do-- but she’s consumed by something more pressing.

“None of this was in the briefing. You left out everything important! Is this how SHIELD treats everyone, or just me?” The accusation is over the line, but if she can’t challenge this bullshit after Harris has admitted to testing untried chemicals on her, then she’ll never get the chance.

The initial silence from the driver’s seat bolsters her courage, which is good, because they’ve arrived at the airport. Every cell in her body longs to get the heck out of there, but while Emory doesn’t need the wheelchair yet, her joints hurt like hell. It’s only a matter of time.

“Thinking over the sequence of events, I’ll admit it’s not--” Agent Harris’s voice falters a little. 

Emory wonders if this sudden display of conscience is studied, intended to elide responsibility. It’s a cynical view, but she feels used. At least the conversation is dampening her power generation.

“I knew I’d end up having to fight some of the clients I was assigned,” Harris starts again. Emory can see that her grip on the steering wheel is white-knuckled. “Maybe I spent a little too much energy pulling back from them, and you got caught up in that. I’m sorry.”

Emory had steeled herself for cold indifference, and this vulnerability throws her. The reflex to say ‘it’s okay’ is strong, but she pushes that aside with great effort and asks the other question that has her anxious. “Speaking of fights, how are we going to get on an airplane with a weaponized oxygen cylinder?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got that covered.” Harris says, facing forward again. She slows the car to a stop and reaches over to pull something out of her purse to hold up for the security guard. “Flight plan’s already in place,” she says to him, her tone far more friendly than the one she’d just used with Emory.

“All right,” the guard says, stepping back into the booth and hitting a button. “Safe travels.”

“Travel will be the safest part,” Harris mutters once they’re moving again. 

Their ride to Sokovia is a chartered jet. The story Harris tells the crew is the one they’d prepped for, that Emory is suffering from a rare condition and needs to see a specialist based in Novi Grad. Preflight and takeoff are completely uneventful, and as she looks out the window at the clouds below them, Emory realizes that if SHIELD hadn’t used experimental gas to knock her out for the flight from Afghanistan, they would have used drugs. They had followed standard operating procedure for the agency: compartmentalize the ‘Need to Know’ and isolate team members from key information on the off chance it could ruin the mission.

She drifts off to sleep in her airplane seat wondering how often not knowing key information caused the strange results that Tony noticed. 

Flying back to NYC in the late evening makes it a bit too late to talk to Emory, so Tony sleeps on the plane, dreaming of various innovations he could use on her armor. Both Happy and Pepper had chosen to stay back in California. They’ll fly back with Stane in a few days. Tony’s happy to see that Pepper had called ahead for a hired car to take him home. There’s even a cup of coffee waiting for him in the cupholder, which wakes him up enough to carry his luggage into the basement lab.

Since the stairs are too much effort at 4 AM, Tony sits down at the computer and starts to sketch out what he’d seen in those dreams.

Without anyone around to hound him to take better care of himself, Tony throws himself into the design work, subsisting on smoothies and freeze-dried fruit pouches. Ten hours later he’s too caught up to worry about trivial things like a change of clothes as he drives back over to Stark Industries to use the fabricator. He sneaks in via a side door and tells the scientist working in the room he needs that he’ll fund the man’s side project for a full year if he keeps Tony’s presence in the building a secret.

As he works, Tony picks up his phone to text Emory multiple times, but she’d asked him to wait for her to send a message first on weekdays. There was always a chance that she’d be practicing power control, and as she'd put it, thinking about him is a ‘delightful distraction.’ It’s a compliment, but he misses her, damnit. He’s dozing at the desk waiting for the Bridgeport to finish up, his phone held loosely in his hand just in case, when he’s woken by someone clearing their throat behind him.

A quick glance at his watch confirms what Tony’s stomach is already telling him: it’s just past and/or almost Burger O’Clock, aka 3 PM. Tony summons his best ‘what the actual fuck are you doing’ face for reputation’s sake and swivels his chair around.

“Excuse me, sir,” the man says, undaunted. “I wanted to tell you we do have some palladium in storage.”

Tony doesn’t remember mentioning palladium, but he recognizes the guy, and most of the day is fuzzy in retrospect. “All right, let’s take a look.”

The scientist seems surprised at this response, but he recovers and takes Tony to the secure storage area. It’s enough for an insert. Tony decides to take it, signing the material out before setting up a pickup time for the piece he’s machining. He heads home to eat something and make the tab, so he can swap his current one out. The SI development lab uses a higher purity level than they bother with for weaponry, and JARVIS has warned there could be some issues with long-term palladium exposure, depending on refinement. That’s why he’d been in such a hurry to redesign the arc.

If it works out, that’ll just confirm that he needs a new supplier. Tony wants the best he can get if he’s going to have to cross an ocean to support Emory’s mission. He’ll stick the partially depleted tab into one of his armored suit’s storage caches, as a backup.

Even though they’d taken off in the early morning, the plane lands in Novi Grad after midnight. With how tired she is, Emory is grateful for the wheelchair, but her face aches from wearing the oxygen mask for so long. It’s hard not to be frustrated with Agent Harris for not warning her so she could be more used to the experience. It’s particularly galling to think that for all she knows, this discomfort and mistrust is part of the plan-- a way to keep Emory off balance and her powers at bay until they’re needed.

At the front desk of their hotel, Harris gives her name for their reservation, then pulls out a wad of cash and asks if there’s a chance they can upgrade. The clerk’s eyes gleam in excitement, and soon they’re ushered to a suite. The sweep Harris does for bugs yields nothing; if the previous room had been prepped for them, that’s just too bad. Both Emory and Harris change for bed in their respective rooms without any chit-chat. Their meeting is scheduled for the next morning, eight hours away. There’s no time to miss Tony, no time to worry about how things will work out, because every second of sleep counts.

It feels like as soon as Emory rests her head on her pillow and closes her eyes, she’s woken up by a knock at the door.

“It’s seven-thirty,” Harris tells her through the closed door. “I have some last-minute details to go over.”

“You can come in while I get dressed,” Emory offers, stretching. Harris comes in and walks over to face the window to give her some privacy.

“Do you remember the keywords?”

“I mention the cave or Afghanistan to confirm I’m feeling safe, and I speak about D.C. or ‘home’ if I’m not,” Emory confirms, gathering up the suit jacket and pants she’ll put back on for today.

“Right. Any mention of Rory Fall by either one of us is a signal to be ready to fight. Try to avoid using her name if it comes up for some reason.”

“I can’t imagine that being a problem.”

She doesn’t tell Harris that her former friend and boss would have long-since collapsed into hysterics or given away the entire game by now, probably on national television. For the first time in her life, Emory takes this as a compliment on her own behalf instead of an indication that she'd failed her friend. The words Nick Fury had thrown in her face all those weeks ago have served their purpose, though she couldn’t have known that at the time. Emory has responded to a medical and moral imperative, but as much as possible, she’s done so on her own terms.

If that looks like obedience to SHIELD, well. That’s their own fault, is it not?

In her rush, Emory drops her small travel bag when she pulls out the blue blouse she’ll wear today. She sees the other agent turn to see if she’s okay, and hurriedly pulls the shirt on.

“Red bra, huh? Wouldn’t have expected that,” Harris remarks.

“Tony likes it,” Emory says, lifting her chin even as she feels her face flush as red as the bra. She likes the color too, but after a few months in the strange culture that is the apprenticeship program at SHIELD, she’d picked up a few things. Who you know is important, more so than who you are, and Tony Stark is rich, smart, and unpredictable.

She settles into the wheelchair after putting her shoes on, dons the mask, and pops a thumbs up for Harris. Whatever’s about to happen, she’s as ready for it as she’ll ever be.

Next chapter, Tony figures out why he can't get in touch with Emory, and Emory finally meets the scientist whose serum has given and taken away so much from her.

[forsworned]

a mutually arranged attachment. (yoriichi tsugikuni x reader)

warning(s). mentionings of nudity, s3xual situations, profanity, violence

word count. 9.2k

categories. f/m

relationships. modern college student au! yoriichi tsugikuni x f!reader

characters. yoriichi tsugikuni, shinobu kocho , mitsuri kanroji

author’s note. HERE YALL FUCKIN GO BRO I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS FUCKIN CHAPTER IT TOOK MY WHOLE SOUL TO WRITE IT AND YES THE ART IN THIS CHAPTER IS ALWAYS DONE BY ME LMK WHAT YALL THINK!!

chapters » one two three four five six seven eight nine ten

taglist: @scoven @salamiwrites @brightymir @stxrryemxlys @glrlnextdoor @coconois

『♡』 chapter eleven: vulnerability

“...and so as you can see westernization is a powerful force that is slowly deteriorating cultures across the world…”

You seemed to be in and out of the presentation that you and Yoriichi were currently giving because how could you focus on that? You had an endless list of things that you were not so eager to let your friends know and you had a meeting with Tengen that you were also less than exhilarated to have. Yoriichi’s mom was cheating on his dad with his own brother and you were set to get married to Yoriichi God knows when. Right, right, the world was crumbling under your feet…

You shook your head as the classroom began to clap.

“[name], did you not think your presentation was worthy enough?” Professor Garrison inquired.

“Huh?” You pulled yourself out of your stupor as you gazed from your professor to the class to the presentation on the projector to Yoriichi.

Yoriichi softly chuckled at your befuddled expression and you blinked several times before you could even think up an answer.

“No, I–I think the presentation was great.”

“Really? What did you like the most about it?” Professor Garrison asked, obviously trying to put you on the spot for his own enjoyment. The sadist.

“Uh,” You glanced over at the slide that was still up. “The references.”

The class laughed in response and Professor Garrison shook his head and smiled. “Alright, get back to your seats.”

“References?” Yoriichi teased.

“Shut up.” You grumbled, embarrassed by your own words.

He couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as scribbled into his notebook as the rest of the groups or pairs presented to the class. You peeped over at what he had been doing the entire class thinking that like the covert nerd he was, he was taking notes but instead he seemed to be drawing something. Upon further inspection, you noticed that it was not just any mindless drawing or doodle of stars and geometric figures but a small little portrait of the both of you.

You leaned a little further to look closer at what it was exactly and your eyes widened at the sight of it. It was literally a drawing of the both of you doing the dirty, you being in reverse cowgirl as one hand was pulling your hair and the other was on your ass.

You soon found yourself scrambling to balance yourself back onto your chair, but before you could hit the floor with a painful and audible thud Yoriichi had caught your arm and helped you back into your seat. His maroon gaze was fixated on you as he held onto your shoulders to make sure that you were sturdy before letting go.

“Are you okay?” He asked. His expression was serious as hell, but knew damn well he was holding it in only long enough so that he didn’t burst into laughter in front of the whole class.

“Yes.” You breathed out still shaken from how you literally almost fell face first into his crotch and then onto the ground.

“Is everything okay, [name]?” Professor Garrison looked between the both of you as he put his glasses back on.

The classroom was quiet as they gawked at you both.

“Y-yeah I’m fine.” You gave the group who was presenting an apologetic look. “Sorry, guys.”

Professor Garrison gave you one last look before gathering the classroom’s attention back to the presenting group. “Alright, continue guys.”

You hadn’t realized that your heart was thrumming against your chest as you put a hand over your breast pocket.

“They’re definitely fucking.” You heard someone whisper from the back and that made you grit your teeth.

What the fuck do they know? I mean it was technically true, but what the fuck did they know?

“You dropped this.” Yoriichi murmured as he handed you a piece of paper that was not yours and you quietly thanked him.

You noticed that he was biting his lip to hide the smile that was on his face. You raised your brow at him before you turned the piece of paper over. It was the small drawing that he was working on earlier with a small note scribbled onto it:

“I’m assuming that’s your favorite position?”

You immediately flipped the paper back on the opposite side as you felt your whole face warm and your heart start to race again. Yoriichi was hiding a grin with the back of his hand as he tried not to laugh at your flustered expression. Sometimes you were way too easy to get riled up, but he liked that a lot about you. He wanted to be the only one who could do that to you among other things.

You had noticed a lot of subtle and not so subtle changes about Yoriichi. First and foremost, his behavior towards you. Not just in private, but in public where wandering eyes and hushed whispers were always lingering around you. It seemed as if he wanted it to be made known that you were his, but not in such a blatant way. You liked that, but it was also frustrating that he was being a little punk about it.

You sighed as you slumped into your chair waiting for your heart rate to slow down as you tuned out the rest of the presentations for the rest of the class. You felt overwhelmed with the amount of things on your plate but could you really complain? Everything seemed to have a bright side to it, well, despite you having a sign nailed to your head that said, “I’m marrying the Heir to the Hanafuda Yakuza Clan! Please kidnap me and use me as ransom!!”.

Yeah, remember when you literally almost got kidnapped by a rival yakuza member in your own apartment and then Yoriichi had to come kick their ass and his uncle collected them and now you live with Yoriichi as a result? Yeah, you almost had forgotten that that was the whole reason you were here again by his side as his soon-to-be forever partner and being spoiled to the max with endless luxuries. Your mind seemed to wander past the part where you were a target and back to the night that you and Yoriichi had your whole moment you were practically on your knees for. Well, you weren’t the one on your knees, technically he was, but that's besides the point.

You wondered how many other women he’s been with before you, because that did not come from just watching a few videos off PornHub. That all very much came with experience and with that experience came your own curiosity. Now, you couldn’t help but feel jealous that he probably had multiple other partners besides you and it’s not like you were a virgin yourself , but still!

You huffed to yourself as you crossed your arms with a disgruntled look on your face. Unbeknownst to you, Yoriichi seemed to take a mental note of addressing it after class was over and confront you about it.

***

“How annoying…” You muttered to yourself as you gathered your belongings and shoved them into your bag as you walked out without even engaging in conversation with Yoriichi.

You were far too immersed into your thoughts as you walked out of the classroom with your arms folded and grumbling about all sorts of things that he couldn’t make out.

“...[name]...[name]...!”

You swung your whole body to glare at him with annoyance. “What?”

“Are you okay?” His expression looked concerned, but then it began to contort into something resembling mischief. “Are you mad at me?”

You raised a brow at him not understanding what he was talking about, but then another moment passed before you recalled the earlier event and you felt your face become inflamed at the thought of it.

“Shut up.” You mumbled as you turned back around and began to make your way out of the building, but he caught you by the waist and brought you flush against him.

Your heart thumped against your chest as you felt your breath catch in your throat. He loved the way your eyes widened at the sight of him and how you could clearly feel your heart thud faster with every beat.

“...Definitely fucking…” You heard one of your classmates mutter to the other one before they laughed.

You shot them a dirty look and they quickly hurried off to where it was they intended to go before you pushed him off of you.

“H-hey!” He chuckled as he gently tugged you back to him again.

This time you did not retreat, but you were definitely not showing any affection back to him.

“Was it what they said?”

You ignored him while you glanced out the window and he tried to veer himself into your view each time you looked away.

“Tell me.”

No response. Yoriichi didn’t take well to the silent treatment and he had his ways of making you talk. His fingers urged your chin to look at him and he was damned sexy. It was really irritating how he could use up all his charm on you and you never turned him down.

“Let go.” You tried to brush him off, but he was not taking no for an answer.

Again, he made you face him with his calloused fingers under your chin. “Tell me what’s wrong, [name].”

“Nothing.”

Despite all his qualities of not being able to withstand silent treatments, he was patient as hell especially with you. He would always be patient and understanding of you, even if it stressed him out like hell.

“Please?”

It was so pretty the way he said it.

Please?

It echoed in your head and it made you melt. And by the looks of it he knew he had you.

“How many women have you been with?”

His maroon eyes broadened with amusement as he gazed down at you and tilted his head. A boyish smile graced his handsome features. He would never lie to you, but he absolutely loved toying with you.

“Why?”

You knitted your eyebrows in vexation. “Why? Why are you answering my question with a question?”

“Well, it’s a bit of a random question. I’m just wondering why you suddenly asked it.”

You gave him a “are you fucking kidding me right now?” look, as you crossed your arms and then shook your head. “Just forget I asked.”

“No, tell me.” His arms were around your waist again as he leaned into you and you leaned away.

He chuckled at you. “I’m serious. I’ll tell you if you tell me why.”

You suddenly felt hot at having to explain why you were thinking about that, but dammit he started it first!

“Because…” You averted your gaze and he was in face again. His warm breath fanned against your lips and you were getting more embarrassed than annoyed at this point.

“Because…?” He drawed out.

But before you could answer, your stomach growled loudly in response. You put a hand over your belly and frowned, but then an idea sprouted into your head. “I’ll tell you if you feed me.”

The smile never left his face as he caressed your cheek. “Done.”

And of course you two were on your way to the place where it all started. Hanafuda Cafe.

Did you ever bother actually looking up at the sign of the cafe? Nope, not once. Not ever. It’s not like you were against mom and pop cafes, but there was a starbucks right around the corner that always made your drink just right and that was enough to make you keep going there. The clan symbol hung proudly in front of the cafe like it had done that night. You felt yourself getting antsier by the moment, but you were practically starving by this point so there wasn’t really any turning back now.

“Wait.” You shook your head remembering the shocking evidence that you had uncovered not even just a few days ago. “Are you okay with coming here?”

Yoriichi exhaled loudly as he shoved his hands into his jean pockets and gave you a small smile and nodded. “Yes, I’ve come to terms with it.”

You looked at him incredulously. “Eh?”

He chuckled at your expression as he took a sip from his hydroflask.

“Just like that?” You looked around and put your hand up to your mouth as you whispered. “You’re okay with your mom and your uncle banging behind your dad’s back?”

He choked almost immediately and you rushed to pat his back and apologized profusely. He waved a hand in the air to gesture that it was fine, but you could’ve been a little more gracious with your words. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He laughed as he put his bottle into his backpacks side pocket. “I can explain after you tell me why you’re so curious about how many women I’ve been with.”

You sulked remembering your earlier conversation as you turned on your heel and started walking in the direction of the restaurant or should you say your old apartment. You soft sighed emitted from your lips as you gazed up at your old complex. You missed it.

As Yoriichi opened the door for you, he gave you a reassuring smile that made you feel less anxiety ridden and sad but then you remembered that he was a womanizer. Well, maybe not a real womanizer, but still. Until he would prove otherwise that was what you were going to assume. Did it make sense? Not really.

You were immediately met with Uncle Keshi’s vibrant personality as he walked from behind the counter. “[name]! Yoriichi! I’ve been dying to see you guys! How was the trip?”

“It was amazing, Uncle.” Yoriichi smiled as he hugged his uncle. You stood there flabbergasted at the scene unfolding in front of you.

There was no way in fucking hell that he came to terms about the whole issue. It was so problematic that even you couldn’t just pretend that everything was okay.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Keshi clapped his nephew’s back before turning to look at you.

“Honestly, [name], you are always glowing. It’s nice to see that you’re in good hands.” He smiled at you and simply bowed at him before going to the furthest and most secluded part of the cafe. You sat down where you had enjoyed the night with Yoriichi’s mother and shared laughs and idle conversation. Mostly on your part due to how tired you had become as the night began to dwindle down to your bedtime.

“Is everything okay?’ Keshi spoke in a lower tone to Yoriichi.

The both of them looked over at you who had your elbow propped up on your chin as you gazed outside before they looked back at one another.

“She’s fine. She’s just dealing with a lot of…inner turmoil.” Yoriichi responded, but smiled at his uncle. “Don’t worry about it.”

Moments past and soon Yoriichi met you with a whole tray of side dishes and drinks. Your stomach growled loudly and you began to salivate at the sight of it.

“Someone’s hungry.”

You pushed your lips out into a pout as you took your chopsticks in your hand and shoved a mouthful of rice into your mouth.

“So?”

“So what?” You countered as you observed as he mimicked your actions.

“You’re eating aren’t you?”

“Can I finish my meal at least?”

He had to keep himself from chuckling at how irate you were becoming. The look of annoyance gracing your features was quite cute on you.

You continued on to silently eat your meal until you were full to your heart’s content. A sigh emitted from your lips as you leaned back into your seat and glanced outside. You recalled the night of you meeting all of Yoriichi’s relatives. His immediate family being the more intense and intimidating prospects. The image of Michikatsu burned into your mind. He literally looked like an evil twin. You chuckled at the thought. How cliche.

“What’s so funny?”

You frowned again as you glanced over at him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Hmm…” He tilted his head as he propped his elbow up on the table and gazed at you. You felt your bottom lip tremble as you averted your eyes. “...so, will you tell me now, [name].”

The way he said your name sent shivers up your spine. He was magnetic and enamoring and you wanted to not look at him, really you didn’t but the way he was reeling you back in. When you did find yourself turning back to face him, he was a lot closer than you remembered. You lifted your hand to create a barrier between the both of you.

“I-If you move away from my face, I’ll tell you.” You stammered.

You hadn’t noticed that your heart was racing and your hands were becoming clammy. When will this vicious cycle ever end?

You let out a sharp exhale as you folded your hands together. “I just…You’re gonna think it’s stupid.”

He gently took your hand in his as he caressed your skin with the pad of his thumb. “I won’t think anything you say is stupid.”

You swallowed your saliva as you felt apprehensive bringing up the subject again. His calloused hands were warm and inviting, luring you out to speak.

“Okay…Well,” You took a glance around the cafe. It wasn’t too full, but it wasn’t too empty. You had to make sure that your voice didn’t carry so you leaned in as you spoke in a hushed tone. “I wanted to know how many women you were with because…”

You suddenly felt your voice catch in your throat as you spoke and you cleared it before you continued. “Well, you were just so experienced, so I didn’t know what else to think and then it made me kinda–”

“Jealous?” He raised his brow at you with an amused expression on his face.

You took another deep breath as you nodded and casted your gaze downward as if that would shift your humiliation. You didn’t know why you were suddenly so abashed by this conversation. Not too long ago were you completely naked with one another and not to mention you were the one making the advancements. How were you embarrassed when he was literally going down on you less than a week ago?

“I guess.” You ran a hand through your hair as you tried to refocus on the conversation.

“Just one.”

You turned your head so quickly, you thought you might’ve given yourself whiplash. “Just one?”

“Don’t sound too eager now.” He teased as he sipped at his water. “But yes, just one.”

Now you were really interested. “Can I ask who?”

His eyes cast downward and a wave of grief and solemnity washed over the both of you. Over him first and then you. You sensed that he had suddenly become humorless.

“You don’t have to answer.” You began to say as you squeezed his hand.

He gave you a small smile and brought your hand closer to his heart. “It’s okay.”

“I just would rather not speak about it here.” His voice was low and hushed and you only nodded clearly taking notice that it was a touchy subject.

Still, you couldn’t help but be ever more curious. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

Your eyes broadened as your body perked up. “Right now?”

“Is that okay with you? Did you have somewhere else you needed to be?” He asked, getting up from his seat as he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

“No, that’s fine. I know a nice, secluded place.” You quickly replied, as you gathered the dishes into the tray.

“Nice and secluded, you say?” He raised his brows at you knowingly.

You scoffed as you shook your head. “You’re ridiculous. I guess that's what it means to have a one track mind.”

“I’d like to think of myself as a multi-tasker.” He gave you a playful smile, but before you could find yourself smiling a little too much Yoriichi knocked into another making the dishes clatter on his tray and nearly fall over.

“Do you ever watch where you’re going?”

That voice made all your thoughts cease and it sent an icy and unwelcoming shudder down your body.

Yoriichi set the tray down to his immediate left and his figure became rigid and suddenly the air around you was so tense that it was almost tangible.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asked as he rolled up his sleeves.

“What do you mean? This is my turf, too. Right, Uncle?”

The twins turned to their uncle for further inspection to which Keshi just laughed awkwardly as he waved his hands in the air.

“Now, now, boys. Let’s not get so rowdy. You are brother’s after all.” He patted them both on the back and they both glared at one another.

You found yourself picking up a knife and began to lift it and then glided it downward between the both of them.

They both gave you a puzzled look.

“What are you doing?” Yoriichi inquired.

“I’m cutting the tension in the air.” You gave him a proud smile.

Uncle Keshi laughed a hearty laugh. Like seriously this guy was keeling over with how much he was laughing and only stood there in triumph.

“That was a good one. Wooo.” He wiped away a tear as he took the knife from you and set it behind him. “Anyways, you boys will be seeing more of each other since Michikatsu enrolled into Kimetsu University.”

“What?!” You and Yoriichi chorused gawking at them in disbelief.

Yoriichi scoffed as he folded his arms.“I guess, they just let anyone in.”

“Have you ever considered the fact that I’m actually smarter than you?” Michikatsu countered, stepping up to him.

It was as if you could see the lightning between them flare and you then began to do what you did earlier, but this time with your hand.

Yoriichi did a double take at you, but Michikatsu only surveyed you up and down several times before tilting his head at you.

“So, you’re really going to marry her?” He pointed his thumb at you.

Yoriichi’s glare was even more intense and infuriated as he turned back to him and stepped in front of you.

“Mind your business.”

“Oh, but it is my business.” Michikatsu stepped up to him.

You glanced down at Yoriichi’s fists that were balled up so tightly that his veins were threatening to pop at any moment. Your hand smoothed over his and he relaxed a little under your touch.

“I just remembered that I have to go feed my cats.” You blurted out suddenly.

“Your cats?” They all chorused.

“Yeah, they’ve been under my aunt’s care and I forgot that I needed you to help me give them their ringworm medication.”

Yoriichi’s eyes narrowed at you as you glanced up at him with not a single hint of giving in. You really didn’t want to be caught up in another situation where the two brothers were about to pound each other’s faces in.

“Right, I’m sure Clover and Clementine are very eager to have me drop itraconazole onto their ears.” Yoriichi replied as he took your hand in his and you beamed up at him.

“Itraconzole is an oral medication.” Michikatsu interjected, giving him a suspicious look.

“I meant miconazole.” Yoriichi countered as he faced him again.

“Sure, you did.” There went the Lightning Glare again.

“Haha! Right, so anyways we have to get going!” You began to drag Yoriichi out the door. “I don’t want to leave it up to my aunt. They might just claw her eyes out! It was nice seeing you guys again.” You waved goodbye to Uncle Keshi and Michikatsu.

His twin brother looked quite disgruntled as he crossed his arms and scoffed as he mumbled something under his breath. To which Uncle Keshi smacked him and scolded him as he frowned at him and rubbed his arm.

Yoriichi pushed open the door for the both of you to walk out and were met with the autumn air. It was quiet for a moment as you walked hand in hand watching as the fiery leaves swayed.

“Thanks for that.” He squeezed your hand as he glanced from in front of him to you.

You smiled and leaned into him. “Of course. I can only imagine how stressful that was for you so I wanted to get out of there fast. Plus Michikatsu enrolling? What a joke.”

He stopped in front of you and cupped your cheeks before leaning over and capturing your lips. His scent, his touch, literally everything about him was so damn heavenly. You felt yourself wanting the kiss to last longer as you opened your lips to seize more of him, but he tugged away from you. A small chuckle escaped him as he peered down at you with a serene smile. Meanwhile, you were still entranced by him waiting for another kiss.

Even since you two had uncovered the news of Yoriichi’s mother and Uncle Keshi, he never stopped showing you any affection. In fact, he gave you more of him and you were not complaining, but something about the way he kissed you. You really just couldn’t get enough.

“That’s all I get?”

“Oh, I didn’t know you wanted more.” He teased, bringing his lips closer to yours again.

And there it was again. That look on your face that he absolutely loved. That look that made him want you in every way imaginable, but he always kept his composure though he would lose his cool for sure any time soon.

But in the flip of a switch, you had recalled why you came out here in the first place and a look of concern had etched onto your features. You raised your hand to caress his cheeks.

“Is everything okay?”

He nodded as he took your hand in his and led you to a nearby bench to speak more comfortably. He sighed as he leaned against the wooden seat as he gazed up at the leaves that were falling down. Your hand reflexively went to his knee, but you had felt your phone buzz several times.

You pulled it out to look down at the notifications that littered your screen.

Shinobu: Are you with Yoriichi???

Mitsuri: Yes, I just spotted her leaving class with him and they were all up on each other

You felt your face warm at the text messages you were reading. Since when did Mitsuri see your interaction with him? And why didn’t she make herself known?

“Did something happen?” Yoriichi asked, capturing your attention.

You groaned as you shifted on the bench. “Just one of my friends spying on us.”

“And they didn’t say hi?”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You huffed as you shook your head and tossed your phone into your bag. You turned back to him wanting to give him your fullest attention. “Enough about that. We came here to talk about you.”

“Right…Well,” He scratched his temple. “There was a girl. Her name was Uta. We were set to get married. She cheated on me with my twin brother and then one of the rival gang members mutilated and murdered her in cold blood.”

Your jaw slackened immediately. You had no thoughts, no words. He said it so casually, so nonchalant. Like he totally just ripped the bandage off and you were at a loss for words.

“W-wait…”

He let out a large sigh as he licked his lips and continued. “Look, I know that’s really heavy, but I don’t want to keep things from you. I want to be open and honest.”

“Yeah, but–” You searched for the right words to say. “How can you–I mean–I just–”

You let out a frustrated huff. “How are you so nonchalant about that? Did you, like not love this girl?”

He pressed his lips together and nodded. “I did, but that was a long time ago. We were both eighteen years old. We were set to get married before we were even born. We spent our entire childhood years together. Me, Uta and Michikatsu–we were like this.” He crossed his two fingers together. “But then she, well, cheated on me and then she got brutally murdered by one of the rival clan members. We found who was responsible and we dealt with it. Of course, I mourned for her, but that was over three years ago. My family and I, we have this thing where we only mourn the dead for a certain period of time. I know that sounds stupid, but that along with two years of consistent therapy helped out a lot. Did it pacify the endless rage I have for my brother? Yeah, kind of. Do I still hate him? Yeah, kind of.”

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say. That all sounds really insane.” You searched his face for any signs of anger or grief, but he only wore a smile as he intertwined his hands with yours. You knew what the term “dealt with” meant so you weren’t going to ask any more questions about that, but the thought of why he wasn’t angry at his Uncle lingered in your mind. You didn’t want to keep bringing down the hammer on too many heavy conversations all at once, so you had set it aside for now.

“I appreciate the sentiment. Really. You have a good heart and I appreciate someone who can console me in times of need. The truth is, I feel like I only loved Uta because she was literally made for me. Like, literally. As soon as her family had heard that my mother was pregnant, it wasn’t too long until they were either. Our family’s were binded in a marriage contract that would’ve made us billionaires. They wanted their little girl to marry the Heir of the Hanafuda Clan so that their family would have the protection they needed while we had the wealth. I mean it was kind of too good to be true.”

“So that’s why they killed her?” You asked.

He nodded solemnly. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“So, why are they after me? I don’t have any generational wealth. At least, I don’t think so.” You began to ponder about your family. You grew up pretty comfortably in a nice suburbia, but you never really thought that you had a secret inheritance.

“It’s not about your wealth. That was just a bonus for both of our family’s. My father isn’t worried about money anymore. He attained that even after Uta’s death. Her family loved our family so much that, while they didn’t offer us the full amount, they did offer a third of it. In exchange, we offer them our protection as a post mortem kind of deal.”

“So?” You raised a brow at him as you awaited his answer.

He laughed to himself as brushed away some flyaways from his face. “God, I forgot how convoluted this whole thing was. Forgive me for not being as meticulous as I always am or seem to be.”

“Take your time.” You patted his knee.

He relaxed his tense body so more as he got comfortable. “Well, there’s kind of like this hierarchy that Japan has that’s not very existent to the world. Or I should say your world, but behind the scenes the Japanese Prime Minister isn’t who is actually in charge. It’s us. The three sister clans rule Japan and they have been fighting for the title for years now. All three of the families have Heirs that are well past their time, so they’re basically null and void. So when the time passes for the Heir, they get a new one to take their place. So whoever makes a baby, gets them married has an immediate claim to the throne.”

“So you guys are really Game of Throne-ing this shit right now?”

He chuckled at your commentary. “Basically. Yeah, that’s almost it. I was suppose to be it and then well, you know, and then there was another Heir on the rise, but he and his wife got murdered.”

“Oh my God.” You put a hand to your mouth. “Was this recent?”

Yoriichi became solemn again. “Yes. Can you see why that’s an issue?”

“Do you think that–”

“Yeah, I actually do think my dad would stoop that low and then proceed to officiate another meeting to send out a signal for the other clans to back off. He’s a crafty guy, even craftier than my mother. I really wouldn’t put it past him. My father is a power hungry man, and if that means that I get to wear the crown to keep our family’s power in check then, so be it.”

“But you mentioned that there is a time where their power becomes void. What happens during that time period?”

“That’s what we call, machijikan or waiting period. They try their best to conceive as quickly as possible because the sooner they can pop out a baby and get them married, the sooner they can dethrone anyone else.”

“So, who’s in power during that time?”

“You know how the American government has three branches?” He held out three fingers and you nodded.

“Think of us as the Legislative branch and Susanoo as Executive and Tsukuyomi as Judicial. Everyone sort of has checks and balances over one another and it is equally distributed for the most part.”

You threw your head back and groaned. “I’m having a case of deja vu.”

“Trust me this isn’t even the half of it.”

You straightened yourself back up and jutted your lip out. “There’s more?”

He folded his arms as he gave you a curious look. “What, you just thought you were going to get married to an Heir and that’s it?”

“Yeah bada-bing, bada-doom.” You gave him your best Italian mafia accent and he shook his head at you.

“Obviously, I knew that there would be a lot more than what meets the eye, but I feel like I’m getting a lesson on history and law.”

“Get used to it. Because when we get married, you’re going to need multiple lessons on how to be an Heiress and be knowledgeable about all the ins and outs of the Hanafuda Clan.”

“We haven’t even graduated yet!” You exclaimed, throwing yourself back against the bench and put your face in your hands.

He gently pried away your hands and glanced up at his expression that continued to be the source of your heart racing and your cheeks burning.

“I told you, we’re in this together. So please, don’t allow yourself to place all the burden on your shoulders. I promise to make it as easy for you as possible.”

You sighed. “And I believe you. I just always feel like there’s more. More that you’re going to tell me every time I turn the corner. It’s just overwhelming.”

“That’s why I’m trying to take it piece by piece with you. This is only the surface.”

“Well, I guess I have no choice in the matter anyway.” You joked and he snorted in response.

“You and me both.”

It was silent for a moment. The autumn breeze danced across your forms sending a chill up your spine and you felt his arms encase you with his warmth. Gosh, he was always so warm all the time. You closed your eyes, feeling his skin raise your body temperature up again and enjoy the way he felt against you.

“So how many guys have you guys been with?”

You glanced down at him and he laughed before tugging you back into his arms again as he kissed your forehead. You never grew tired of the comfort that he provided to you and you wanted nothing more than to do that for him.

***

“So, you guys didn’t bang?”

“Shinobu!”

“What?”

You shook your head as you shoved a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth and chuckled. “No, we didn’t, but almost and that’s besides the point.”

“Right, yeah the affair and his fiance being murdered. I didn’t know a thing about it, but I’m not so sure if Tengen or his dad does or not either. I suspect a handful of people do know about it, though.” Shinobu added as she set her cup of ice cream down and wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

“I can’t even tell who I want to root for anymore.” Mitsuri frowned down at her cup as she played with the straw of her milkshake.

“Well, you could root for us.” You nudged at her and she smiled at you.

“Always. And sorry for spying on you earlier. I didn’t want to interrupt your time together.” The rosette pouted at you.

You snorted. “We’ve done nothing but spend time together. From the moment I wake up, til the time I sleep. I am always under the man’s watch. Not that I mind, but it wouldn’t put a damper in my day.”

“You guys sleep in the same bed?” Shinobu asked.

You shook your head.

“Well, why not?”

You shrugged. “Well, when we went on the trip we did, but when we came back I just went back to sleeping in my bed.”

“Right, I guess you just didn’t want to push it. You know, after all that.” Shinobu gestured to you with her spoon.

“Well, on the bright side at least he’s publicly affectionate to you now.” Mitsuri beamed at you with her palms on either side of her chin.

“Yeah, you guys are a whole couple now. I guess all those months of gawking and stalking him worked.” Shinobu hummed as she swung her legs back and forth.

“I-I never stalked him!” You exclaimed.

Your voice carried through the ice cream parlor causing a few bystanders to turn their heads towards you. You sighed as you sulked in your chair while the two girls giggled.

“Whatever. I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.” You took the last bit of ice cream and shoveled it into your mouth before tossing it in the nearby trash can. “Tell us about your date with Snake Dude.”

And it was as if Mitsuri’s whole mood lit up. Her emerald eyes twinkled at the mention of him as she told you about him. So far, you knew that his name was Obanai and that he worked at his family’s noodle shop that he was supposed to take over after he graduated college. Oh and that the snake that he was attached to the hip with was named Kaburamaru.

“He’s actually so cute and sweet!” Mitsuri beamed as she sipped on her milkshake.

“The snake or him?” Shinobu raised her brow at her, making you giggle.

“Both! I can’t wait to see him again.” She wrapped her arms around herself as she thought about her crush.

“So, when you guys bang, is he gonna keep the snake in the room?” You taunted her.

“S-shut up! And his name is Kaburamaru!” Mitsuri pouted at you.

You and Shinobu burst out in a fit of giggles at how defensive and cute Mitsuri had become over the guy she had been recently seeing. It had felt like forever that you had just sat down and had normal conversation with your normal friends on a normal day. You didn’t want to complain. You had the luxury of practically everything being handed to you on a silver plate, but it felt strange. You were used to saving up money for nice things that had good quality and didn’t fall apart so quickly, but now you were given weekly allowances and Yoriichi’s black card. Life was pretty insane for you right now.

Oh my God, you had Yoriichi’s black card on you.

“Guys, guys, guys.” You spoke to them rather abruptly in a hushed tone and they immediately gave you their full attention. “Guess what Yoriichi gave me.”

“We already know he gave you amazing head you don’t have to rub it in.” Shinobu tossed her cup into the trash.

You felt your cheeks warm at her crudeness. “T-that’s not what I was going to say!”

You searched your bag for your wallet and then pulled out the card and waved it in their faces.

“Is that a Black Card?” Mitsuri whisper shouted in excitement.

“No way.” Shinobu and Mitsuri were analyzing it extremely up close with pure joy.

“Yes, and guess what we’re gonna do.” You sang as you did a little dance in your seat.

“I could really use another pair of Louboutin’s.” The ravenette mused with a grin on her face.

“And I’ve had my eye on this really cute Chanel bag for a while.” Mitsuri sipped the remnants of her drink before bouncing in her seat.

You smirked at them as you waved the luxury card in your hand. “And I could use a tiny little dress that will make him crazy.”

***

So, maybe you went a little overboard with the Black Card that Yoriichi had given you, but it’s not like you spent an egregious amount of money every day. You were responsible and you saved up, but you didn’t see the harm in a little shopping trip.

“[name]...this was not a little shopping trip.” Mitsuri gawked at all the items you guys stockpiled into Shinobu’s car.

“Eh, I’ve done worse.” Shinobu interjected as she added her new pair of Louboutin’s on top of the stack of other shoes she had purchased.

“Eh? What do you mean?” Mitsuri eeped as she oggled her best friend.

“Didn’t you know that’s how she got her mini cooper and tesla?” You laughed at Mitsuri’s shocked expression.

“Eh?! Since when do you have a mini cooper?” The rosette was in complete disbelief at this point.

“Yeah, you missed a chapter or three.” You joked leaning against her car as she closed the hood.

“Oh, right. We didn’t know you until the end of high school. I have two mini coopers actually. One at our house in Santa Barbara and then the other is in London.”

“Wow, you’re really just ballin’ like that huh?” You crossed your arms at her.

“Chapter? More like I’m missing a whole volume in the series that is Shinobu’s Epic Life of Luxury.” Mitsuri scratched the back of her head completely befuddled.

You glanced at your watch.

7:07PM

“Damn.”

“You gotta go?” The ravenette dropped her phone into her bag before throwing it over her shoulder.

“Yeah.” You opened your phone to see that you had multiple call and message notifications from Yoriichi. “Yeah, I really gotta go.”

“Ooo, you’re in trouble.” Mitsuri poked fun at you and you playfully pushed her.

“I’m sure it’s nothing like that. He’s probably just worried. I’ll take you back.” Shinobu gestured to her car as she got into the driver’s seat and you sighed as you slid into the backseat.

You ran a hand through your hair as you peered out the window hearing the gps play loudly in the background between lyrics that were blaring from the aux cord. You opened your text messages to your conversation with Yoriichi.

Yoriichi: Are you alright? 3:03PM

Yoriichi: Text me when you can 3:25PM

Yoriichi: I don’t mind that you’re spending money at all 4:05PM

Yoriichi: What did you get from Agent Provocateur👀

You laughed out loud at the last text. He must have his account connected to his card to see every transaction that goes through. Well, duh. He’d be an idiot not to.

You: Maybe I’ll let you see when I get back home😘

Yoriichi: I am definitely looking forward to it. Let me know when you get to the gates

“Seems like everything’s okay.” Mitsuri mused as paused to look up from her phone to the rear view mirror.

You nodded your head and laughed again. “Yeah he was filtering through my transactions.”

“So he’s not mad?” Shinobu glanced up to look at you through the rear view mirror.

You shook your head as you locked your phone and set it aside. “Nah, he said he doesn’t mind if I spend money.”

“What did I tell you?” Shinobu replied as she turned the music up and sang along to the lyrics.

You hummed to the tune as you saw your building start to come into view and you quickly texted Yoriichi letting him know you were approaching the gates.

As you Shinobu finally pulled up to the towering gateway, you noticed that it opened immediately.

“Ooo, are we going to get to meet him.” Shinobu said in a sing-song voice.

She proceeded to cruise down the pathway and sure enough there stood Yoriichi waiting for you to come home along with Koshi who was ready to load everything onto a separate cart.

“Yeah, looks like it.” You jutted your chin out to them.

As the car came to a halt, you exited the car and you were met with Yoriichi’s pleasant face and open arms.

You immediately hugged him back welcoming all of his warmth and homeliness. You heard your two annoying friends “aw” at the both of you which signaled you to exchange introductions.

“So Kocho as in Kocho Biological Products who produces vaccines?” Yoriichi was the type to put two and two together so quickly it amazed you every time, but ever since he had mentioned that Uta’s family were close family friends it made sense. It had made sense that the Hanafuda Clan had connections through the ass, and as an heir to be Yoriichi had to have networked since birth.

“Yeah, we’ve never formally met since you stopped going to all the philanthropy events. I don’t blame you, though. They’re only meant to showcase how hypocritical billionaires are with their faux holier-than-thou personalities.” Shinobu laughed, recalling the trip that she had just made to one during their short break.

He scoffed. “Don’t even get me started on their speeches.”

“Frauds, all of them. Not even a hint of real compassion behind those soulless money hungry eyes.” The ravenette shook her head as she wrapped her hair in a low bun and glanced over at you. “I’m sorry, [name]. I hope we’re not boring you. It’s just been a while since I’ve spoken to someone who attends those events and isn’t easily moved by big corp billionaires.”

“Not at all.” You smiled from her to Yoriichi. “I’m happy to see you guys getting along. I’m just a little tired is all.”

“Oh, you should get some rest then.” Mitsuri urged you to go inside with Yoriichi to spend some quality time together.

Shinobu seemed to get the hint as well as she began to actively advocate for the same. “Totally, it’s cold out here anyway. You guys should go in together and keep each other warm.”

Yoriichi peered down at his phone to check the time. “It is getting pretty late, but you guys should come over for lunch or dinner sometime soon.”

“Oh, are you going to be preparing the meals?” The ravenette had a playful grin on her face obviously referring to his outstanding chef skills via you informing them about him and his endless list of talents.

“Of course. I can come up with a small menu that you guys can choose from a day ahead of time so I can prepare it all.” He nodded to you all.

“That’s really fancy. I can’t say that I’ve ever had anyone offer that outside of a wedding.” Mitsuri looked thoroughly impressed, but her mind quickly went to various food items that she would enjoy.

“It looks like you already have a few things in mind.” Shinobu laughed at her and Mitsuri sheepishly grinned at her.

“I can also offer a few suggestions and we can go from there.” Yoriichi added and everyone seemed to be in agreement on that.

After exchanging contact information it was finally time to head back inside. You hugged your friends goodbye and waved at them as they disappeared out of view. You sighed as you turned back to Yoriichi and leaned into his form.

“I know, I know. Shopping can be so tough.” He patted you on the back as he wrapped his arms around you.

You giggled into his chest as you inhaled his scent. It was intoxicating. “Carry me.”

You pulled away to glance up at him and without hesitation he had you over his shoulders and you yelped in response. “Not like that!”

“You never specified.” He smacked your ass so loudly that it echoed into the empty pathway leading up to the building which caused another yelp to come from you.

“Yoriichi!” You whined as you kicked and squirmed, but he only laughed at your attempts to escape.

“Relax, we’re almost there.” He replied casually as he pressed the elevator door button. A loud ding signaling that it opened for the both of you to enter. Well, he was the only one walking as you laid there limp and tired.

You began to feel exhausted as your mind reeled to random things like what type of apple Yoriichi liked if he liked them at all. Floating images of various types of apple began to dance in your mind as you felt yourself slipping into subconsciousness.

“[name]?”

No response. Only the sound of your snores began to fill the empty space of the elevator. A smile on his face as the doors of the elevator opened and he stepped out into his living room and straight to his bedroom. He gently laid you out on his bed and you seemed to be completely passed out as you curled up into fetal position.

“Are you going to fall asleep in your outside clothes?”

“Mmm, just take them off for me.” You mumbled, squeezing your eyes as he turned on the lamp light.

“Sorry…” He whispered as he felt suddenly abashed by the idea of taking off your clothes.

It wasn’t that it was sexual, obviously. You were too tired to even think about wanting to do anything, but the act of peeling off your clothes and having your skin revealed to him. It took him back to how you had completely stripped down for him and how he had pleasured you. He hummed a tune to distract him from all his intrusive thoughts as he began to unzip your jeans and tug off your sweater.

You hugged your body, feeling the cool air hit your body and he quickly covered you with his blankets to keep your body warm. A small sigh of content slipped from his lips as he brushed the hair away from your face and kissed your hair.

This was the first time that you had slept in his bed, albeit because you probably thought it was yours but you had been sharing the same bed when you two were in the cabin, In fact, you had insisted upon it. He yawned as he stretched out his arms and began to get up, but you reached for him.

“Don’t leave.” You murmured sleepily.

And how could he deny you when you looked that cute with sheets wrapped around you like you were a burrito. He grinned down at you as held you close to him.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

***

The sound of birds chirping outside your window as the light filtered through the curtains that were open just a crack. You stretched your body carefully not to pull anything as little noises slipped from your mouth. As you opened your eyes, you noticed that Yoriichi was beside you in a deep slumber. His beautiful tresses were gliding down his back and spilled onto his pillow covers and back. His upper body was free from any shirt and you took this time to thoroughly examine his tattoos. His arms seemed to be finished, but his back piece was left empty and you had recalled when he had told you he wasn’t done with his tattoos yet. You grimaced thinking about a needle puncturing your skin thousands if not millions of times.

He must’ve had a high pain tolerance to get all of that done. You traced over the patterns of dark clouds and sakura blossoms before you placed a gentle kiss on his skin. It had dawned over you that you hadn’t brushed your teeth nor washed your face last night and he just let you. You peered down at yourself realizing that you were just in your tank top and boyshorts. Had he really taken off your clothes for you?

You felt abashed just shamelessly letting him do that to you knowing Yoriichi would never take advantage of you but still! It was conflicting knowing that he has already seen your naked body, but somehow you still felt shy around him. You sharply exhaled as you carefully treaded out of bed.

The sound of him shifting his weight to the other side of your bed caught your attention and you glanced back to see that he was awake and, boy did he look damn fine. His maroon hues were boring into you as he stretched out his hand to you while he smiled gracefully. It was enough to make you have two heartbeats.

“Are you coming back to bed…?” He murmured in a deep sleepy voice.

You felt your face warming as your breath caught in your throat and nodded at him. A small but audible breath escaped his lips as he welcomed you with open arms and you snuggled into the crook of his neck. He threw the covers over your body as he squeezed your body.

“Did you sleep well?”

You only nodded feeling embarrassed again. His laugh vibrated against your body and you held him closer to you.

“Did you?” Your voice was small as you spoke and he began to thread his fingers through your hair.

“Yes, I sleep so much better when you're next to me.”

You swallowed your saliva as you peeked up at him. He was shutting his eyes as the light decorated him so beautifully. He looked like an angel.

“I’m glad.” You replied in a hushed tone as you buried your head into his chest.

You both laid there for a moment as you closed your eyes. It was nice knowing that you didn’t have classes that you needed to attend so you could just relax for the day and not worry too much about schoolwork.

The sound of a phone buzzing both sent you groaning and Yoriichi reached his arm out to blindly search for his phone. One eye cracked open as he observed the caller id.

“Who is it?”

“My uncle.”

That made you shoot up immediately from your cozy position as you peered down at him.

“What does he want?”

Yoriichi shook his head as he looked at his buzzing phone again. “I have no idea. He never calls me at this time.”

You felt your heart pounding against your chest as you watched him swipe his phone to answer the call. He sat up and stretched his arms as he held the phone to his ear.

“Hey, Uncle. What’s up?”

The sound of static from the otherside of the phone garbled his voice and you both gave each other the same look.

“Uncle, I can’t hear you.”

The sound suddenly stopped and you shifted on the bed in anticipation.

“Can–can you hear me now?”

“Yes.”

“I need to talk to you and [name] about something…”

[subwaysurf45]

could i please get bucky reacting to you missing your abusive ex?? angst or fluff i dont mind i just need this right now :,) thank you in advance

Missing Him

request: anonymous

words: 1520

warnings: mentions of abusive actions, hitting, yelling, crying, fluff

a/n: hope you're okay sweetheart and I hope this can help you out a bit <3

Masterlist!

Bucky knew about your Ex, he hated him. After four months of dating you sat him down and told him everything, both Bucky and you cried about it for hours. You told him everything, the hitting, yelling, swearing, punishments, all of it. You had been dating this man for three years than you broke up with him one gory night. It took four years to start dating again, that’s when Bucky came into the picture. After you spilled your heart out Bucky spilled his, telling you about his time with Hydra. It was a very intimate night, by the end of your conversation you were both wrapped around one another, protecting each other from the horrors of the world.

“I guess we’re just two broken people in love,” you had looked up to him. Bucky’s eyes were so red and swollen. You knew you looked ten times worse.

“No,” Bucky leaned in and kissed your forehead, “we’re two people who are in love who just so happened to be the victims of other broken people.”

Three years later, months of unconditional love. Bucky was still your person, he was still your rock that you turned to for everything; Bucky loved it. You were living together, sleeping in the same bed, going to couple’s therapy. When you told people you were seeing a couple’s therapist everyone seemed to think your relationship was tanking, but it was thriving. You had actually proposed the idea, have a mediator give advice to help one another deal with the trauma instead of taking it on as their own, it worked. You talked about how you didn’t like to hear his name, you needed to be made aware that Bucky was leaving or coming back inside the house, and more. Bucky talked about how he liked to be woken up during his nightmares, he didn’t want to be shaken awake rather soothed awake.

Today wasn’t the day you went in for the talk, it was just a normal day. But it didn’t feel normal for you, it felt like guilt was being poured over you for some strange reason.

You stood in the grocery line with a few things in your hands, your bag was looped around your arm. As you looked over your shoulder to pass the time you had to do a massive double take, your hair whipped back and forth as you checked back into aisle six. There he was, the man that ruined your life. He seemed to sense someone was looking at him, as he scanned around he did a double take on you. That guilt smashed into you again, almost knocking you off your feet.

“Next!” the lady working the cash called. You jumped and began to dump the chips and coffee pods on the moving belt, you looked over and he was still there, just looking at you.

That was the last time you looked at him, you paid quick and ran out of the store, trying to get to your car as fast as possible. Right when you were about to cross the street you heard the automatic doors slide open.

“Y/n, hey, wait,” the voice pounded in your skull, you didn’t turn, he ran around you.

Your eyes weren’t wide and scared, they were squinted and mean. You didn’t say a word, clutching your jaw as tight as you could while you just stared at him. He was taller than you, you looked up to meet his eyes but you didn’t let his height make you back down. Never in a million years had you thought you’d stand this close to him without holding up your arms to brace for impact. But you were, all you could think of was Bucky teaching you self defense moves to get this man standing in front of you on the ground.

“Hi,” he said again, “I know you probably don’t want to see me, and I get that,” he looked down to the ground, “but I just wanted to say hi, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“Well…” you sighed, not having a sentence planned.

“I know, I just-” he cut himself off, “I just wanted to ask how you were-are, how you are, I haven’t seen in forever-understandably, I mean I-”

“I’m dating someone,” you raised your chin thinking of Bucky. Maybe that could push him away, let him know you’ve moved on. Have you?

“Oh…” he nodded with a smile, the tension was only growing. “I’m, uh, engaged…”

“Wh-n-nice, wow, that’s amazing,” only now did you notice the ring on his finger. You also noticed his beard that had grown in, making him look older. The wrinkles near his eyes were deeper and his smile was...wider.

“Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me,” he said as he faced the palms of his hands to you, “but you look great, I’m happy you’ve found someone, and I hope you are doing well, I really do,” he sighed, “and I’m fucking sorry, I am, I’m not going to make up excuses, I won’t.” he shook his head, “but I’m sorry I broke you, I really am.”

“I’m not broken,” you whispered, “I’m a victim of a broken person.” you looked both ways before you crossed the street, leaving him to watch with his jaw on the floor. If you would have said that to him years ago you would have been dead in a matter of seconds. He most likely would have grabbed you by the arm, nails digging in, and dragged you to the car just so he could scream at you on the way home and push you inside.

The drive home was hard, your blurry vision caused you to see moving blobs of colour. Once you blinked the tears rolled down and you could see again, but you promised yourself you wouldn’t cry over him again, he didn’t deserve it.

The door opened and Bucky was right there to help take the bags in, he dropped them once he saw your tear streaked face.

“What happened?” he whispered, his hand cupping your cheek, “talk to me, what’s wrong?”

Bucky was so good at taking care of you, you didn’t even notice he had picked you up and brought you to the couch. His arms held you close to his body, the feeling of being covered completely was always comforting to you. His fingers seemed to strum your back, just his fingertips smoothing your sweater. As you cried into his chest, his lips would gently press against your temple, forehead, cheeks, eyes. They were soft and full, just gentle and long kisses all over your face, once he pulled away you could still feel him there. He’d bring your hand to his lips and press some kisses to your knuckles, little ones and then longer ones as he worked his way up your hand.

“You wanna talk about it?” he whispered right next to your ear, his lips tickling the shell.

“I saw him.”

Bucky seemed to tighten up, knowing exactly who you were talking about. He relaxed again, “did he do anything?”

��We just talked, he did, he talked to me,” you leaned back and looked into his eyes, “he was nice to me.”

“How so?” he leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose. His eyes fluttered closed as he leaned in.

“He asked how I was, I said I was dating someone,” you wiped under your nose because you hadn’t sniffled in a while, “he’s engaged, he said I looked great and that he was sorry.”

“He’s engaged, wow…” Bucky looked off into the distance just to take that in, his arms instinctively wrapped tighter around you.

“He was so nice, I miss that part of him,” you muttered into Bucky’s neck, he seemed to freeze again.

“What?” he whispered. He didn’t sound angry at all, just very confused. He pulled back to look at your face, making sure he didn’t mishear you. “You miss him?”

“Not like that, I hate that man with everything I have,” you looked off and out the window, unable to look Bucky in the eye, “he wasn’t always mean, at family parties he was always boasting about me and showing off so much PDA, he would leave little sticky notes around the house for me, and there would be times where it would be weeks between his episodes.” you looked back to Bucky, “I never want to see him again, but just seeing him like that reminded me of how much I loved him, and how much he loved me back at our best moments.”

“I see,” Bucky whispered and kissed you, “everyone gets reminded of their exes, maybe it just made you think of the ‘good old days’ in a way you haven’t thought of in a long time, yeah?” Bucky rubbed your back again.

“Exactly, I still love you with all my heart, it was just-I just-I don’t know...I just missed that part of him, because he was really nice.” You snuggled further into Bucky.

“And that’s okay.”

tag-list: @imtherain

If you’d like to be added to the tag list send an ask, personal message me, or leave a comment on any of my works!

[wrathandgreed]

(I hope requests are still open) So ive been thinking. How about the brothers reaction to MC taking a large step away from them when ever one of them raises their hand up. It could be as simple as a high five. MC used to be in a abusive relationship and is paranoid about getting hit

Note: (For the record, I don’t know if you sent me this on purpose - I’ve never done requests; I’ve literally just put out my very first OM headcanons. But I figured I could try. I’ve never been in an abusive relationship, but a number of my friends have. I really hope I can do this one respect - if anything about this is not on the level, please let me know! Also, if I missed a trigger warning in the tags, or tagged this wrong, let me know. Also, for the record, I tend to like soft!Brothers and I really wanted them to try and be better - not put the onus on MC to “get over it” or anything.)

Second note: After writing this, I’m not sure that most of these guys would be a good choice for an abuse survivor! 

Third note: I am NOT good at keeping things short and, as usual, I went overboard with Asmodeus. Like, it should be its own fic at this point. But write what you want to read, right?

Warnings: references to domestic abuse, both physical and verbal. References to suicide baiting. Uncensored swearing.

~5K words

Lucifer

A strange choice; his perfectionism and exacting behavior sometimes make you remember how it was back in the human world; everything had to be JUST SO….or else.

And he’s threatened to kill you. Twice.

But there’s something inherently decent about him - and you live for the rare moments he laughs.

His perfectionism usually isn’t even about you, so you just kind of….ignore it.

You’re doing some of your RAD homework in Lucifer’s study.

It’s quiet there.

And, while he won’t do the work for you, he’ll definitely help when you’re stuck.

Also you can give him tea and soothing when he (inevitably)  gets upset at his paperwork - Mammon’s bills, Asmo’s bills, Satan’s bills (hey, dark magic books are expensive).

You start hearing the shifting and muttering that herald the beginning of the rant.

You gather the tea and walk towards his desk.

“Devil’s sake!” Lucifer suddenly snaps out, slamming hand on his desk as he reads yet another ridiculous piece of paper.

It’s not at you, the anger isn’t at you, you KNOW it’s not at you, but you freeze anyway.

Slammed hands on desks, punched holes in walls, hands on you, always hands - 

The cup of tea hits the floor and you’re out of the room before Lucifer can even look up.

He’s seen it all in your paperwork - the police reports, the restraining order, the lists of injuries - so he puts it all together before his study door closes behind you.

He knows better than to go after you immediately. You’ll want some solitude, some quiet on your own, to steady yourself a little.

If he goes after you now, it might frighten you more. Looks like hunting.

You need to know he’s calm, that he’s not acting or reacting out of emotion.

He takes his time cleaning up the spilled tea, straightening his papers.

When he shows up at your room, he has a mug of hot chocolate.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before he can say anything. You made a mess in his study, and he’s such a stickler for everything being neat. He was angry before, but he’ll be even more angry now.

“No, I’m sorry,” he returns, and offers you the chocolate.

(You blink once. Has the Avatar of Pride ever apologized before? If so, it was never in your hearing.)

The two of you talk quietly for a time. He insists that you don’t need to apologize - ever. He insists that, while he appreciates the tea-and-break routine, it’s 100% not your responsibility to control his anger. It’s his. He says that his anger isn’t good for him anyway (just look at Satan) and he needs to take a break when that hot feeling starts. 

Maybe he should start scheduling breaks; setting timers on his D.D.D. so that he no longer works long enough at once to let it all get to him.

He doesn’t want you afraid of him.

Mammon

Mammon is pretty much the only demon who HASN’T threatened your life. He often sounds irritated, but he’s never even sounded angry at you.

If anything, he’s a mush and an abuse victim himself. So he gets where you’re coming from, and tries really hard.

So you shouldn’t be afraid of him.

But….he moves too quickly. He’s constantly jumping from one idea to another, one topic to another, one emotion to another. And that’s just emotionally.

You can’t trust where his hands will be. Ever. And that’s not a sex thing.

Sometimes, his protection of you makes you feel safe. If anyone hurts you, Mammon will hurt them a thousand times worse.

He’s funny, and his hands on you are gentle, and once you tell him about your past, he tries really hard not to go back to his “stupid human” habit, because it hurts your feelings.

But sometimes, his protection feels like obsession. Why were you talking to that guy? C’mere, you’re MY human.

Then, inevitably, the tug on your hand or arm or waist, pulling you closer.

It starts simply enough.

You’re playing video games in his room. He’s not as much of a gamer as Levi, but he enjoys them.

Especially ones where you can be competitive or drive cars really fast.

He’s been getting more and more excited, coiled like a spring. And it’s from enjoyment, not anger, but that level of energy, in your experience, explodes at some point.

You get quieter, but that only makes him more boisterous. He wants you to join in the fun! C’mon MC, did you see that?! It was awesome!

After a really impressive win, he shouts in triumph and suddenly his hand is in front of your face for a high-five.

You recoil and hit the floor, crab-crawling backwards before you can stop yourself.

His look of complete confusion, in different circumstances, might be funny. He actually looks at his hand like he doesn’t recognize it.

He drops to the floor too, “Babe? What’s wrong? Y’okay?” And he reaches out a hand towards you.

When you flinch, he gets it.

He sits on the floor, stuttering out apologies, not even finishing one sentence before starting another. He makes sure he’s cross-legged, leaning back on his hands - non threatening, leaning away, hands not hidden, but not prominent, and in a position it would take him time to move from. 

When you start crying, he can’t maintain that pose and crawls towards you, pulling you into a hug.

If you resist, you know he’ll let you go. And that’s why you just curl into him instead, crying out on his shoulder while he holds you close - but not tightly.

“I jus’ need ya to talk to me….let me know if I’m gettin’ to be too much. I know I’m loud. Just….. jus’ remind me, I’ll never be mad.”

Leviathan

Boy already has anger problems.

Envy’s kind of prone to it, you know?

On the one hand, he literally attacked you over a piece of TSL memorabilia.

On the other, he’s generally harmless the rest of the time.

He’s meek and shy and terrified of touching you - so, 95% of the time, you feel super safe with him.

When you wake with a nightmare, when something jump-starts your fear response, he talks you through it, easily abandoning whatever game or anime he’s involved in.

He’ll only touch you when you ask, or when you reach for him first.

But then there’s the MMOs.

You know you should leave when he starts getting mad. Not in a victim-blame sense, but for your own mental health it’s probably not a good idea to be around him when he raids.

He ALWAYS gets mad.

You’re sitting in his room, so involved in your handheld that you forget it’s his raiding night.

(Usually you make study plans with Satan, or shopping plans with Asmo on his raiding nights. You don’t want him to give them up; he enjoys them, but it’s not good for you to be around.)

After finally completing a tough level, you pop your headphones off just in time to hear Levi swear loudly.

You go still as a string of swear-filled trash talk fills the room. Things you’d never expect shy, needy Levi to say. 

You know it really is just trash-talk - the threats of violence are just too absurd. Rip off their arms and use their own fingers to bowl their skull like a bowling ball? Really?

Also this is LEVI. Levi? The demon who needed you to taunt Mammon about his credit card because he couldn’t do it himself? He might be Admiral of Hell’s Navy and all, but he’s not exactly threatening.

You get to your feet, a little shaken but ready to just walk out of the room. It’s raid night, and this is why you don’t hang out on raid nights. You’re not comfortable around other people’s anger.

You’re halfway across the room when Levi suddenly shouts in frustration and throws his controller on the floor.

And you’re out the door.

Levi just glimpses you as he’s reaching to pick up his miraculously-unshattered controller from the floor.

“Henry?” He calls out, just a second too late.

With only one moment of hesitation, he logs out of his raid and goes to follow you.

You had less than ten seconds head start, but it takes him almost twenty minutes to find you, sitting out in the garden, gazing at nothing.

“MC?” He calls quietly. He doesn’t want to sneak up on you.

A single blink, and the tiniest flash of fear - he left his game to follow you. 

Calculation: extreme concern - or extreme anger. 

Conclusion: Undetermined.

So you wait.

“Are you ok?”

Okay, so not mad. “Aren’t you raiding?” You ask, instead of answering. You’re not ok, but you’re also not in the mood to talk about it.

“I, uh, h-had a, uh, power outage?” Even he doesn’t sound convinced, and you snort. Levi only has three modes: simple, stuttering, and verbose. Thankfully he goes with simple. “You ran out. I was worried.”

You debate brushing his concern off, but he deserves better than that.

“I’m not good with anger. Even if it’s not directed at me.”

“Oh.” Levi pauses as he considers. He knows the basics of what’s happened. “I - I mean, I could, you know, NOT - “

“No,” you say quickly and lean in to kiss his cheek. “You don’t have to change anything. Do your raids, make stupid threats to stupid players. Just….warn me to leave first?”

Levi nods, but he skips the rest of his raid to stargaze with you in the garden, arms wrapped around you from behind as he points out different Devildom stars and constellations to you. You get a lecture on how Devildom stars are used in Devildom sailing. It’s actually kind of interesting.

Satan

Okay, seriously? The Avatar of Wrath? Author speaking here, I literally can’t picture a worse combination than an MC who’s still recovering from domestic abuse to date the AVATAR OF WRATH.

Like, yeah, he has good control over himself, but he also loses his temper in a moment’s notice.

He has CANONICALLY tortured people for calling him strange.

He flips out with no warning and destroys parts of the house and his brothers just let him do it because he’s too powerful to control when he rages.

I can absolutely see MC falling for the quiet intelligence, the consideration, and so forth, but witnessing one (1) single rage should be enough to tell them that this relationship won’t be good for their mental health.

Let’s not even talk about the (again, canonical) desire for domination, power play, pet play, etc, that kind of defines our boy.

I mean, I love Satan. Out of all the bros, he’s the only one I could imagine legit dating in real life.

But I’m a little ball of rage myself, and I have no problem with anger, mine or anyone else’s.

And the fandom (including me) can totally play cute and love on their “soft little angy boi” all they want, and he definitely has soft, sensitive sides, and I may actively choose to ignore the whole domination/power play/etc when I fic or headcanon because I really love soft!Satan….. but he’s not.

I can’t even make a headcanon, because I cannot picture a situation in which this is actually GOOD for MC.

Because no matter how hard he’ll try and control it, and how much his rage probably won’t be directed at them, I just keep picturing “It won’t happen again” except it will, and it’ll just wind up being flashbacks to the number of times “It won’t happen again” ended in black eyes or an ER visit back in the human world.

And MC walking on eggshells for eternity to avoid setting him off, and how is that healthy?

Asmodeus

Another decent choice for MC, at least on the surface.

King of consent over here, at least how I picture him. Especially for someone he cares about.

Always accepts “no” about literally anything. Don’t want sex? We’ll cuddle. Cuddling a little confining? Holding hands is cool. Really don’t want to be touched at all right now? Gossip and tea! 

You were coming to really care about the Avatar of Lust, and you believed what Simeon said about him - how much he desperately needed love and affection. You got it; you needed some, too. 

I mean, even if he’d been a bit of a jerk, he’d warmed up significantly since the pact, so new that it still burned on your skin, was formed.

But even Asmodeus wasn’t without faults. However much he focuses on love, he can sometimes, really be….mean.

You’re standing on a balcony in Diavolo’s castle, having escaped for a few moments.

He’d always been catty, gossipy, filled with drama, but the genuine affection and likability of him sometimes made you ignore it.

His constant mocking of Luke you could put down to the whole angel/demon conflict. 

His occasional snapping or poking at his brothers you could put down to being stuck in the same house with the same people for literal eons.

The only thing that might make up for your awful existence is if you just ended it.

The words haunt you as you stand looking up at Devildom’s endless nighttime.

How many times did you hear similar words yourself? How useless you were, how much of a burden, no way you’d survive on your own without him, and he didn’t even want you that much. Why didn’t you just go kill yourself?

Dammit, you think to yourself as Asmo steps out on to the balcony.

“Darling! Why are you out here all alone? Or are you waiting for some company?”

When he goes to put his arms around you, you just say “no.” Simply, quietly, emotionlessly.

Asmo circles around to look at you. “Something wrong, sweetness?”

You take a breath. Another. You consider swallowing it, again, don’t want to start a fight. Back down, put on a smile, ignore it.

But realize you can’t. You spent years dealing with this crap, and you’re not going to do it again.

“You’re mean, Azzy.” Your voice is quieter than you expected. You look up into the demon’s eyes. To his credit, he looks deeply confused and, as you take a step away from him, hurt. Before he can open his mouth, you continue, “How could you say that to Mammon?”

“Are you defending MAMMON?” He asks, torn between incredulity and anger.

“Right now? Yes. But also Luke, Lucifer, and everyone else you talk shit to. Or about. He’s your brother. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to hear that out of someone you love?”

Dismissively, “Oh, if it actually bothered him, he’d - “

“What? Beat you up? That’s not like him. So he takes it. And takes it, and takes it, until, because it’s all he hears, he believes it. And then why fight back? Why defend yourself, if you’re such a piece of shit? You deserve it, after all, right?”

You don’t even realize it, but you’re crying by this point. And you’re mad. All the mad you couldn’t fling at your abuser before is filling you now. You don’t even know if you’re talking about Mammon or yourself anymore. Maybe both of you.

“And even though he’s beaten down, you keep going. When he won’t respond to the usual anymore, when that doesn’t seem to hurt him, rile him up, you go worse. You told your brother, who you claim to love, to kill himself. We’re barely even friends. So what happens when I annoy you? Should I just go die now, save you the trouble of telling me to do it later?”

You step right up to him, into his personal space, almost nose to nose, and stare directly into his red-yellow eyes. “Is this who you are, Asmodeus?”

Asmo has gone from defensive; incredulous and angry, to baffled, hurt and worried in just a few minutes. But at your last, pointed question, he jerks his head back as though you slapped him. Not knowing what to say or do, he reaches for you again, but you dodge his hand and brush past him back into the castle.

You get Solomon, the only one who won’t ask questions, to switch rooms with you. (Luke is thrilled; teaching him to play gin rummy actually cheers you up a little.)

For a few weeks, you and Asmodeus pass each other in the House without speaking.  Then, one evening, there’s a knock on your door and Asmo slides into your room.

He looks….well, not awful; he could never look awful. But the glow is gone from his skin and, unless you’re mistaken, he hasn’t bothered doing his hair. He looks like he’s missed some sleep.

You look up from your homework and watch him. Silently. It’s not your job to fill the silence anymore.

More than most of them, Asmo despises being vulnerable. But it’s fix this or not, and the pact is pushing him to be on good terms. At least, he blames the pact. It’s easier than acknowledging how much the weeks of silence have worn on him. How awful it was watching you walk to class with Mammon instead of him. 

And no matter what, he values honesty in his relationships, no matter what kind of relationship. So he would be honest.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly.

Lean back in your chair, hands folded. Waiting.

“I don’t know….if that’s who I am. Maybe it is.”

“Why are you here, Asmo? What do you want?”

“I want you to stop ignoring me!”

Steady face. “I spent too many years having someone talk to me the way you spoke to your brother. The rest of it - the gossip, the side comments, the cattiness…. it’s not your best side. In fact, it’s pretty unattractive when it’s mean, but I could handle it. But I can’t handle cruelty. I don’t want to be around it anymore.”

A pause. “What is my best side then?”

Disgusted, you chuck a pen in his direction. “Fuck’s sake, Asmo. Get out.”

“No! Not, not that. If that’s my bad side, the **unattractive** part, then what’s the other half?”

You search his face, but he doesn’t seem to be fishing for compliments. If anything, he looks….lost. Confused. And you wonder if anyone’s ever said anything to him, good or bad, about who he was; not what he looked like or how he fucked. 

It’s not your responsibility to psychoanalyze a demon, you think to yourself. But you’re not someone to walk away. You wonder how it’s possible for someone to be thousands of years old, and know less about themselves than you know about yourself in just a few decades. And you have nothing to lose by being kind.

“You can be wonderfully kind, Asmo, and generous. You want to see the beauty in everyone and everything. As nasty as you can be with it, I’ll give you points for honesty. You connect with people, and the times you’re actually genuinely interested in them is….charming.”

He’s silent for a few minutes. Then he nods, as if he’s made a decision. “Okay. Tomorrow, after RAD, do you want to go for bubble tea?” At your confusion, he just smiles and continues, “It’s like skin care, isn’t it? Attractiveness requires effort, darling, until it becomes habit. If I want to be attractive inside as well as out, I’ll have to practice the good things, so they outweigh the bad. I can’t do that alone. I need a practice partner who won’t tolerate failure, right? At least until it’s habit.”

You feel your entire brain have to reboot before you can give a coherent response. 

“Tomorrow. One hour. I have papers due.” You wait until he leaves your room before you smile.

Beelzebub

Probably the best choice for this MC.

The most emotionally intelligent of his brothers.

Also the most sincerely kind and gentle.

But also, like Satan, prone to sudden outbursts and rages. They’re all food-related (or, rather, lack-of-food-related), but they’re there.

A smart MC always carries snacks while dating Beel. Phone, wallet, keys, fried bat wings.

Strangely, though, the food-induced rages don’t really bother you. It’s not anger, really, and it’s never once been directed at you. And, unlike back in the human world, there’s a concrete way to help: feed him.

Today you have a whole backpack full of snacks.

You’re with Belphie, watching one of Beel’s games at RAD.

(You’re not sure Belphie wants to be there, but you’re not allowed out alone, and Belphie decided to take you - keep you safe and support his brother. Two birds, one Belphie.)

Belphie tends to nap against your shoulder any time the ref goes to make a call, but he’s somehow always awake to clap for his brother. 

(You stand on your chair and cheer, but that’s you.)

The game is a close one; double overtime. Even Belphie is too tense to sleep towards the end.

And at the end of double overtime, Beel manages the single extra goal that results in victory.

You cheer yourself hoarse for your demon boyfriend.

The whole stadium is crazy, so you hang back and wait. Belphie hates crowds and you’re not keen on them yourself. It’s going to take awhile for Beel to make it through the crowd to you anyway.

You’re standing in the aisle, scrolling through your phone, when suddenly there’s a loud shout and arms wrap around you from behind and lift you up.

You gasp, and your scream strangles in your throat so what comes out of you is nothing more than a squeak. Your phone goes flying.

You’re frozen for a moment as panic surges. You want to fight and you’re fighting your own brain to push the panic into your limbs so you can fight for yourself.

You vaguely feel a tugging and you hear someone - Belphie? - insisting that you be put down and then your feet are on the ground but there’s no such thing as your legs and you start to fall before the same arms help you gently sit. The ground is gross, but you’ll only care about the damage to your skirt later.

Everything is fuzzy and confusing; you’re not even sure of what you’re looking at until your vision is filled with blue and violet.

You know that swirl of color. That’s a SAFE color, and you start feeling your poor brain start to work again.

You blink into your boyfriend’s blue-violet eyes; you realize he’s cupping your face with his hands and the weird underwater noises start to sound like his voice. You realize, very belatedly, that what probably happened was Beel lifting you up in a victory hug.

“M’okay,” you say, but it sounds robotic. It takes a few more seconds - you don’t know how many - for all of your senses and brain to actually begin working in sync again. You start hearing the sounds of the crowd departing the stadium, and you hear Beel continuing to say your name and trying to get you to answer questions. You almost smile; but smiling wouldn’t make any sense.

“I’m okay,” you say, and you must sound a little more convincing this time because Beel looks relieved. He shoots a few more questions at you, and you realize they’re the kinds of questions people get asked when someone thinks they have a concussion or head trauma.

Your answers satisfy him, so Beel helps you to your feet. 

“What was that?” He asks. “Low blood sugar? Are you hungry?”

You have to smile at his very-typical diagnosis. A little sugar wouldn’t hurt, though. For some reason, eating grounds you after something like this. You dig a chocolate bar out of your Backpack of Snacks (Snackpack?) and hand the rest to him.

He impatiently takes a bag of chips out of it but doesn’t open it. He looks at you expectantly and you realize he won’t eat until you do. So you take a bite of the chocolate and he looks more relieved.

“So what the fuck WAS that?” Belphie asks as the three of you move towards the exit.

“Later.” You haven’t yet found a reason to really tell Beel (and, by extension, Belphegor) about everything. You do later that night. 

Beel swears he’ll never surprise you like that again. He’s a lot more cautious about touching you for a few days, but eventually things go back to normal between you.

Belphegor

Author note: Dude fucking murdered you, deliberately, in cold blood, and taunted you for your gentleness and desire to help as you died. But let’s say you can get past that - or try to. Probably the second-worst choice, after Satan, for this reason.

You started dating Belphie for the strangest reason: you could trash-talk the shit out of him.

He kept trying to be around you after you made the pact (which, let’s face it, you made so you could MAKE SURE he never hurt you again). Until, after politely dodging him wasn’t working, you told him to take his emo-boy routine and fuck off somewhere else.

You flinched, waiting for retaliation, but he just blinked at you and told you to stop being a brat.

And he was smiling.

But it wasn’t a mean smile - it was a smile that shared the joke.

Your lips quivered into a returning smile, and you threw another insult at him.

He topped it, and hurled one back.

Before you knew it, the two of you were screaming obscenities at each other in the middle of the common room and laughing like hyenas.

For some reason, Belphie calling you a dumb bitch wasn’t an insult. It was a mark of endearment. And it didn’t hurt your feelings or make you afraid.

It was empowering to call him a dickhead if he did something you didn’t like and have him simply laugh and amend his behavior. Nothing bothered him.

He didn’t move quickly; in fact he didn’t move at all if he could help it.

But you would remember, sometimes, the way his hands felt on your throat, or how cold his eyes had been. And you couldn’t say it was a momentary madness, because he’d planned it. He’d been imprisoned because he wanted to kill humanity.

You put it out of your mind. It was something you were good at, after all.

Until the two of you sat down to watch a movie one evening. A simple plot hole sparked a discussion that wound up being….not an argument, but definitely a difference of opinion.

As usual, insults were flying fast and furious when suddenly Belphie laughed and smacked you with his pillow.

It wasn’t an angry move, and it wasn’t hard enough to hurt. It wasn’t a hard blow at all! But the surprise had you falling back on the couch. And the fear had you curling into a ball, arms wrapped around your head protectively, legs curled up to guard your middle.

There is dead silence.

“Hey, Brat?” Belphie asks. When you don’t answer, he calls your name instead.

You slowly, very slowly, begin to uncurl yourself from your position. It takes time for the residual fear to leave, but enough is gone to leave room for embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” you mutter. 

“I get it,” is the answer.

Cue awkward silence.

“I figured you were still afraid of me.”

“I’m not!” When he just stares blandly at you, you sigh. “Okay, a little. If you wanted to hurt me - again - you’ve had a ton of opportunities. So I don’t think you want to. But…..”

“It’s a hard thing to get over.”

“Yeah. And not just you.” Hesitantly, you start to tell him. You want to just give him the basics, but once you start talking, you can’t seem to stop. He doesn’t interrupt, barely seems to blink, just watches you. A blank vessel to help you empty the poison that fills you sometimes.

You see his jaw tighten as you go on, but you know the anger isn’t at you.

When you finish, he’s silent for a few moments. Then he gathers you up to him. “I’ll never hurt you,” he says.

You look up at him with the same bland look he gave you a moment ago.

“Again,” he amends. “I’ll never hurt you again.”

You let out a watery laugh and he hugs you a bit tighter.

“You’re still a brat, though.”

[soft--dragon]

Mining

Imagine this in an au where no war never happened and Dream was nice to Tommy without manipulating him :) I want my boys to be happy okay I'm soft for them all (I wrote this to help me with Tommy's latest stream cause it ✨h u r t✨ )

Word Count: 2,250

Warnings: None

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

This was based on this prompt here I hope you enjoy this ^^

Tommy ran across the flower dotted fields, eyes bright and sword in hand. Dream ran beside him, occasionally glancing at the teen.

"You keeping up okay?" He asked.

"Yeah!" Tommy grinned, though Dream could see he was struggling to breathe.

"You should put the sword in your inventory" Dream advised, "the weight won't slow you down."

"There are mobs Dream" Tommy replied firmly, "I feel safer with it."

"Fair enough" Dream nodded but made sure to slow down a bit so Tommy could keep up.

Tommy had gone to Dream begging him to come along on a mining trip and to tell him about his speedrunning adventures. Dream would've declined but Tommy had seemed so excited by the idea that Dream really couldn't say no to the teen. Besides, he might be able to get to know the kid better. He was still pretty new to the server.

The pair stopped at a river, Dream only slightly out of breath, years of speedrunning training his body for this type of thing. Tommy on the other hand was bent over, hands on his knees as he breathed heavily.

"You gonna be alright?" Dream looked at him, a little concerned.

Tommy nodded again, instantly straightening up to smirk at Dream. "Please, I feel fine! I'm like a running machine, Big D!"

Dream screwed up his nose though he was smiling a little. "Don't call me that."

Tommy laughed, saluting. "Sure thing Big D!"

Dream groaned rolling his eyes. "C'mon, breaks over, we need to head to the cliffs to find a good cavern for resources."

Tommy sighed. "Gimmie a second to catch my breathe would ya? I'd like to live to see Tubbo's birthday."

"A running machine you said? Wouldn't that mean you don't need time to breathe?" Dream teasingly poked Tommy's side.

He didn't expect Tommy to violently flinch away, holding his side as he stared at Dream.

"What the fuck was that for?" He snapped.

Dream blinked. "Sorry, I was just...are you hurt?"

Tommy glared at him, pink starting to dust his cheeks. "I'm fine" he grumbled, "just don't do that."

Dream wanted to ask but refrained. Maybe Tommy had a thing with touch? But he was commonly seen hugging Tubbo and Wilbur...

"Sorry" Dream apologized again then motioned towards the moutain, "shall we continue?"

Tommy nodded, avoiding eye contact. Dream blinked at the lack of a snarky comeback. Was the boy still not comfortable enough around him for contact? Had he overstepped?

Dream pushed the thought aside. He'd spent a few weeks around Tommy, they'd given each other friendly shoves before. He probably just didn't expect the sudden touch.

"C'mon" Dream gently nudged the boy's shoulder, relieved when the boy shoved him back lightly.

They continued up the cliff side, Dream tossing blocks to Tommy whenever he needed them. All the while, Dream kept thinking back to the odd reaction Tommy had had earlier.

He might actually be hurt, the boy was terrible about taking care of himself if the stories Wilbur had told him were any indication.

Dream sighed, mining the dirt in front of him and pulling himself up on a sturdy ledge. They were about half way up the hill. Dream knew there was a trusty cavern close by perfect for mining. The amount of ores in there had barely been unearthed.

Dream looked over the edge where Tommy was climbing.

"How you doing kid?" He called.

"Fantastic!" Tommy sarcastically shouted back, his exhaustion clear in his voice. "How much further to the caven?"

"About five minutes, we'll take a break here" Dream replied.

Tommy grumbled something heaving himself up onto the edge of the grass block. "Fuck-!" He shouted in alarm.

Dream lunged down to grab Tommy's wrist as the boy's foot slipped off the grass block. Tommy gasped, staring up at the older boy.

"Dream! Don't let go!" He yelled, his feet scrambling for a foot hold.

"I'm not going to!" Dream grunted. "Stop moving around so much!"

Tommy forced himself to go slack. Dream yanked his arm up, tossing Tommy directly into his chest, causing him to topple over. They landed in a heap on the ledge, Dream practically hugging the boy to his chest. Tommy seemed equally shaken, gripping Dream's shirt tightly in his fists. The pair took a moment to breathe before Dream carefully pushed Tommy back to study his face.

"Are you alright?" He asked, almost tempted to take off his mask to get a clearer look at the kid.

"F-Fine" Tommy stuttered a bit, glancing over his shoulder at the edge of the cliff.

Yeah, that was bullshit.

Dream sat up, Tommy in his lap and held him at arm length. "Did you slip cause you couldn't get a footing? Or are you hurt? God please don't tell me you're hurt- actually do, I don't want Wilbur to kill me Tommy, are you hurt?"

He was rambling he knew he was but the heart attack he nearly had from almost losing Tommy sent his brain into mother hen mode.

Tommy laughed a little, putting his hand on Dream's mask and shoving him back. "I'm fine Dream, relax."

"I'm being serious Tommy" Dream batted Tommy's hand away. "Are you hurt, yes or no?"

"No" Tommy rolled his eyes, "god, you sound like Wilbur right now."

Dream glared at Tommy behind his mask. "I'm gonna make sure you're not lying."

"Ughhhhh fine" Tommy crossed his arms, pouting like a child.

Dream gently pressed his fingers against Tommy's arms to test for any sore spots, relieved when Tommy didn't react further than an annoyed eye roll.

"Uncross your arms" Dream told him.

Tommy blinked. "What? Why?"

"You might've bruised your ribs when I grabbed you, you hit the dirt pretty hard" Dream explained, "uncross em."

Tommy hesitated then lowered his arms slowly. Dream waited until they were all the way down then carefully moved his fingers around the bones. Tommy flinched and grabbed Dream's hands.

"You did lie to me unbelievable" Dream huffed. "How sore are they?"

Tommy wasn't looking at him, still keeping Dream's hands from touching him again. "I'm not hurt" he insisted, his voice high.

"Bull" Dream retorted, "you literally winced, Tommy just let me help you-"

"It didn't hurt alright?" Tommy finally lifted his head to glare at Dream.

A blush was burning his cheeks and ears, eyes flicking away from Dream's face to the ground.

Dream stared for a second, trying to put the pieces together. Then it clicked.

Oh.

Oh now that was interesting.

Dream smiled a little. "Tommy, if we're gonna do this whole mining thing, we need to trust each other, right?"

Tommy looked at him and nodded.

"Okay, so with that being said, can you let me check to see if you're injured anywhere else?"

Tommy pursed his lips together, eyes dropping from Dream's face to the grass. "F-Fine just don't-"

He cut himself off with a yelp as Dream poked his stomach.

"See!" Dream said, though he was smiling. "I told you that you were hurt!"

"No Dream, it doesn't hurt-" Tommy tried to explain but Dream prodded his stomach repeatedly making him squeak and slap a hand over his mouth.

"Tommy come on now, if you're in this much pain you got to let me know" Dream told him. "How badly does this hurt? Give me a rating from one to ten."

His hands shifted to poke at Tommy's hips. The boy squealed and broke into laughter, trying to shove Dream's hands away.

"Why are you laughing Tommy? This is serious!" Dream said, his grin while hidden by his mask, was evident in his voice.

"Yohohou're tihihihickling mehehe yohohohou jeheherk!" Tommy accused through his stream of giggles.

"Tickling you? I'm not tickling you Tommy I'm trying to see if you're injured!"

"Dreheheam I swehear to gOHOHOHOD!"

Dream glanced down at his hands to see them poking around Tommy's navel. He chuckled.

"Judging by that reaction you must've really hurt yourself here Toms, I'd better stay here to make sure you're not internally bleeding or something."

"No! No no no nohohohoho! Dreheheham!" Tommy squirmed in the older boy's lap, trying to escape the barrage of tickles.

"Hey, no, no getting out of this Tommy, you told me I could check for injuries" Dream pulled Tommy back until the boy was cradled in his arm, Dream's free hand scuttling around Tommy's stomach.

Tommy shook his head, covering his face with one hand while trying to bat Dream's hand away with the other. "Dreheheheheam!"

Dream giggled quietly. The boy was loud and a bit brash sure, but this? God, Dream was gonna remember this forever. He shifted from Tommy's stomach to his sides, where this whole thing really started.

Tommy squirmed, leaning back into Dream's arm as he laughed freely. His hand still covered half of his face, but Dream could see the pink tinge to his ears and cheeks.

Okay, that's was adorable.

Dream eased up a bit, but kept his hand resting on Tommy's stomach. The boy seemed to realise it had stopped about a minute after Dream actually had. He lifted his hand a little to peek out and immediately dropped it back when he saw Dream looking at him.

"That was cute" Dream teased.

"Shut the fuck up" Tommy groaned, "I'm not cute."

"You really are" Dream poked at his cheek making the boy's nose screw up. "Cuteinnit."

"I'll stab you" Tommy threatened.

"How could you stab me if you're too busy laughing?" Dream pinched at Tommy's hips making the boy squeal and break into a fit of giggles.

"Fuck off" Tommy slapped the hands away, drawing his knees to his chest to protect the area.

Dream laughed a little, ruffling Tommy's hair. "You really aren't hurt though?"

"Yeah yeah I'm fine" Tommy huffed.

"If you say so, buuuuut" Dream dragged out the last word. "It would truly be a shame if you injured your feet somehow, imagine that, you wouldn't be able to outrun mobs, maybe I should check they're not hurt too?"

Tommy stared at Dream for a moment then scrambled to get out of Dream's arms.

"C'mere Tommy!" Dream laughed cheerfully, grabbing Tommy in a bear hug and falling back with him.

"Fuck off Dreheham!" Tommy yelled, but giggles were already peppering between his words. "No no no! Let gohoho!"

"Why? I just want to make sure my friend isn't in any pain Toms," Dream told him, rolling over and pinning Tommy to the ground.

"You're just gonna tickle mehehe!" Tommy tried to sit up but Dream's weight kept him down.

"What an accusation! I would never do such a thing in this kind of situation!" Dream pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Now, be a good lad and just stay still while I conduct my analysis."

"Fuck off!" Tommy shot back, a wobbly smile on his face as he felt Dream tug at his shoes. "Dreheheam! Wait wait wait-"

Dream giggled again. He used to this with George and Sapnap all the time. He missed the playful feeling that came with it.

Tommy's shoes dropped from his feet and Dream paused for a moment, hands poised by the arches. Tommy was giggling quietly behind him, the anticipation making him nervous. The silence stretched on for a bit before Tommy finally got brave enough to ask; "Dream?"

Dream instantly skittered his fingers up and down the boy's feet making Tommy throw his head back with a loud shriek, hysteric laughter following.

"NOHOHohoho! Dreheheham!" Tommy squirmed on the dirt, kicking his legs the best he could.

"Damn Tommy I think your feet might actually be more injured than I thought!" Dream exclaimed, "that's okay though, I know some methods to get them back into working order."

Dream then started gently tracing Tommy's toes while his other hand scratched around the soles.

"FuhuHUHUCK! YOHOHOU BIHIHITCH!" Tommy cackled, covering his warm face with his arm, desperately trying to evade Dream's fingers.

"Tommy I told you to stay still! You're not being very cooperative" Dream shook his head.

"FUHUHUHUCK OFF!"

"Hey! I'm trying to help, there's no need to be rude" Dream sped up his fingers pace as punishment.

Tommy seemed to realise this as he immediately backtracked. "I'M SOHOHORRY! DREHEHEHAM PLEHEHEHESE!"

Dream chuckled and stopped his fingers, getting off of Tommy's legs. The boy melted into the grass, child like giggles spilling from his mouth. Dream smiled fondly, sitting cross legged beside the boy.

Tommy eventually calmed down enough to look up at Dream. "Bitch" he said simply, glaring.

Dream laughed. "Sorry couldn't help it" he said. "You good?"

"Yeah" Tommy sat up, tugging his shoes back on. "But you're dead to me."

Dream laughed again, slinging an arm around the boy's shoulders. "Aw come on, you love me really."

"I really, really don't."

Dream pouted then tazed Tommy's side making him yelp, flinching away.

"Hehey!"

Dream snickered and stood, offering a hand to Tommy. "C'mon, we've still got a little bit to go then we'll be at the cavern."

Tommy took his hand, hefting himself up with the older's help. He hesitated then asked, "can you tell me about your first manhunt with four hunters?"

"Yeah sure," Dream smiled, his heart softening when Tommy's eyes lit up. "I think I started it with me slapping Sapnap in the face then making a break for it."

Tommy laughed, listening intently to every word as Dream led the way to the cavern.

[say-narry]

The Tonight Show

>> Versão em PT-BR

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Sorry, english isn't my first language! Hope you all like!

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"Ladies and gentlemen, let's hear it for our friend and singer Harry Styles and his friend and new Marvel's actress, Y/N Y/LN!" Jimmy raised his arms pointing to the stage entrance and Harry and Y/N entered side by side.

They smiled and waved to the audience, who returned the whistling and clapping.

Harry greeted Jimmy with a brief hug and Y/N did the same, giving kisses.

Jimmy pointed to the two dark armchairs next to his table and Y/N sat down next to Jimmy and Harry next to him.

The whistling and clapping ceased. They were both smiling for the cameras and sure enough, The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon was scoring very high ratings.

"Great to have you here, everybody! " Jimmy started "We've been on this marathon interviewing friends in the business world and you're closing with a bang!" there was some applause "How long have you been friends?"

Y/N and Harry looked at each other and posed as if they were thinking.

"About three years, right?" Y/N looked at his friend, who agreed. "I wasn't so well known yet, I was participating as a co-star in This is Family, Harry was very nice to send invitations to everyone to his show. From that moment on, we started our partnership."

"Very nice that! And you must hear this question a lot..." a chill went through their stomachs, they knew what it was going to be "Nothing ever happened between you?" Jimmy let out a chuckle and their cheeks flushed.

It was more the discomfort of the question than the act that never happened. They were very close friends, nothing more than a tight hug and kisses on the cheek.

On social media, it was clear that Harry was the friend every woman would want to have, and to S/N fans, there was nothing going on between them since she had a few quick flings with Chris Evans, but only one person knew how much Harry was in love with his best friend, ever since he saw her in the sitcom she acted in, it motivated him to give input to the cast. He himself was that person. He wanted to see if the energy she conveyed on the small screen was the same, but it wasn't. It was simply much better. Y/N was Harry's fit, he had known that since they had spoken in person and Harry had already pulled strings to keep her around.

"No, we never had anything." Harry answered.

"Okay!" Jimmy joked making a funny face. "Kidding guys, it's uncomfortable this kind of question, but I think that just like me, your fans also think that you would make a cute couple."

"We see this a lot on twitter, I often take screenshots and send them to Harry, we laugh a lot, but we have a mutual respect. " Y/N tried to close the subject.

"And about your new song, Harry..."

"We are back with our guests, guys, and they agree to play our "hit the target" game!" Jimmy pointed to three dolls with the picture of himself, Y/N and Harry. There were scores written on part of each one's body.

"It's just a game, but we want to test your aim!" Jimmy continued "As you can see, there are points on every part of our body. Whoever manages to get the five arrows with the most points can choose a charity to donate 50 thousand dollars!" Harry and Y/N clapped side by side again "The loser will have to answer a question from our little box." Jimmy waved a dark red cube and his friends agreed.

The game began with Jimmy aiming at the head height of his paper doll. He fired all five plexiglas and accumulated 100 points.

The next player was Y/N, who ended up taking off her heels to make her move firmer, being assisted by Harry, who made the audience gasp for the act of affection when he held her to take off her shoes.

Y/N shot the first one, hitting the heart of her dummy, starting with 300 points. The next two missed, and the last one hit his dummy's forehead, adding another 100 points.

Harry just looked at her amused. She was good at this, sometimes you guys played this at his parties, it was a game that got on his nerves, because he wasn't good at it.

"Come on, Harry!" The host handed the little arrows to Harry and he positioned himself as Y/N did, maybe if he followed her way, he would be able to hit more points.

Big mistake.

The first arrow hit his wrist, starting with ten points. He made a snapping motion of his neck, drawing a few laughs from the audience. Harry shot two more arrows, one of which hit his arm, and the other fell before it hit the dummy.

"I think it's those rings." He complained loudly and took them off, giving them to Y/N who put them on, showing his fingers to the cameras, making a joke to the home audience.

Harry pointed to the heart of his dummy. If he got it right, he wouldn't have to answer the question.

And he shot. The arrow made a turn and unfortunately stopped in his arm, giving him another 50 points.

Harry would have to answer the damn question.

He groaned in despair as Jimmy and Y/N celebrated their victory.

The announcer walked away and picked up the red box and waved it at Harry. Who pouted in disappointment, sure all his fanclubs would be commenting on his cute expression.

"Take a little paper and read it to us, Harry." Jimmy held out the box and Harry put his hand inside, feeling some papers on his fingers.

He moved his hand a little and brushed at a piece of paper. He unfolded it and read.

His breathing had suddenly become heavier. It seemed as if he was out of breath, his fingers holding the small paper trembled.

"Er... Your challenge is: declare yourself to your crush!" The audience let out a few shouts and Y/N, always very expressive, opened her mouth and her eyes widened. Harry denied it with his head, laughing sideways, trying not to show his nervousness.

As close as they were, Harry didn't mention his girlfriends. She followed his fans that were also Harry's fans and sometimes she saw news about him dating some woman, but if he didn't say anything, it could be just his friends and if it was, she wouldn't invade his intimacy, she would wait for him to say something. Nothing had to be heavy in that friendship, she was aware of that, sometimes they would rather spend their time talking about random things like constellations and signs than their boyfriends and that was fine with her.

"Is this really necessary?" Harry asked in a playful tone.

Jimmy laughed and nodded positively.

They had formed a sort of open wheel on the stage.

"Come on, H! You can do it, because that's what I want to know too!" Y/N teased him.

He looked at her, closing his eyes as if she had failed in some secret plan of theirs.

"Okay... The person I like is very special..." He took a breath, playing with the paper in his hand "I won't say the name, but I will tell the situation we lived."

Y/N squatted down next to Jimmy, who hugged him in a friendly way while they listened to Harry.

"We were at a party among friends. We drank a lot, which we never did. It was on our friend's yacht, it was really an exciting day. I remember that we drank so much that this person... vomited a green liquid on my feet." Jimmy made a face of disgust and the audience murmured with disgust as well, Y/N remained static, because she knew this story. She had been there. She had vomited on him, which got a good laugh when she sobered up. "It's disgusting, I almost followed this person, but seeing this person so vulnerable, so sensitive in my arms... It made me see how much she was the perfect person for me, showed me how completely in love I was with her."

Y/N's heart soared, but as an actress who had conquered Hollywood, she made the best expression of curiosity, pretending not to know what it was all about.

"Do you have any idea who it is, Y/N?" Jimmy asked.

"I have no idea, I wish I could use my mind reading powers right now." She joked, referring to her character.

On the other side of the stage, there was an embarrassed Harry. His heart was tight, because he knew his best friend wasn't stupid and hadn't forgotten that day on the boat, when he took care of her, so much so that she slept on his lap and thanked him for it. He knew how spontaneous she was, he was dying for her to run out of Jimmy's side and jump on his lap and kiss him in front of everyone.

On the social networks, there was no other talk. Both of their names were at the top of the world trends topics, and in the news of the famous as well.

Y/N had donated the amount to the institution that cared for homeless people in New York. In a game of scenes, she returned the rings to Harry and didn't look at him, just went along with Jimmy's antics, leaving her friend completely out in the cold.

She didn't want to even think about it. Harry had never given the slightest sign of interest, he had gone out with a woman in the last few days... She was just another friend, no?

Jimmy thanked them both for their presence. They posed for some pictures with the host and the fans in the audience, both of them swallowing dryly and not looking at each other.

Soon the Y/N's accessory called her over and they left. She couldn't look at Harry, couldn't imagine that her favorite teenage singer, her current best friend, was in love with her, a foreigner new to show business.

It had been 15 days since the show had aired. There was still some murmuring on the social networks, Harry and Y/N had come in to check what they were talking about and most had picked up on Harry's words, they had even gotten pictures of them both from the day of the party on the yacht. It was clear from the whole thing.

But they hadn't exchanged a word, their friendship was shaken and Y/N couldn't stand it anymore.

On her day off in London, she took a coat since it was autumn and considerably cold in the late afternoon. She had always been a person who liked to dot the i's and cross the t's. Why was she running away this time? It was Harry there. It was Harry declaring that he was in love with her. What was the problem? She had been in love with him since she was a teenager, the Hollywood world was attractive and fantastic, but to whom could she be sincere, be herself, be the Y/N who left Brazil in search of opportunity and conquered the world? Except for her family, Harry was the only person fit for the job. Him. Only him.

Harry lived a few blocks away, she closed the apartment door and left the condo, there were no paparazzi, not that she had seen.

She pulled up her black hoodie and put her hair over her face, walking quickly through the cold streets of the chic neighborhood.

Braving some closed pedestrian signals, she arrived after a few minutes at the brown stone wall and black gate.

She had the key, they were so close at that point. They trusted each other.

Entering and closing it quickly, she saw some lights on. Y/N hadn't wondered if Harry was accompanied by someone else, his producers or his family.

Her finger slid between the detailed gold knob and opened the door, the wind and the smell of Harry's perfume went straight to her nostrils, filling her lungs.

She stepped inside and took a deep breath. Her heart seemed to throb close to her throat, and as cold as it was, she was sweating.

"Harry?" She called out. "H?"

No sound, no "I'm here!" The alarms hadn't gone off, he could be in the shower or in the studio composing something.

"Harry! It's Y/N, we need to talk!" She said a little louder "If you're with someone, I'm leaving..."

She walked to the center of the huge decorated room, there were some golden items, it was Harry's face. Y/N smiled as she touched a beautiful vase on the table. She couldn't lose him. She loved him, loved his way, his voice, his everything.

"Y/N." She heard Harry's husky voice, behind her between two sliding doors. It was his home office.

Harry was wearing a robe, his face had a sad, tired expression. His hair was not as she was used to seeing it. It was just the way it was. His nose was red, as if he had just cried.

That was it.

"Hazza!" Y/n murmured, walking slowly over to him, who bowed his head in shame.

"What was it?" Without denying his Aquarius side, Harry answered short.

The woman took a breath of air, until she walked more quickly in front of her best friend, stretching her hands until she held his face and joined their lips.

If you could see their stomachs, it would be something similar to fireworks in Copacabana on New Year's Eve.

Harry pushed the doors aside and took his best friend by the waist, pressing her against him.

How much he had dreamed of this. How much he wished it would happen. Their lips were warm, their tongues met, caressing each other, the sighs were audible, Harry couldn't help but smile at that.

"Forgive me." Y/N pulled away minimally whimpering, stroking between his best friend's jaw and neck. "I'm not afraid when I'm the superhero, but in real life... I'm a coward."

Harry shook his head negatively.

"I shouldn't have exposed us like that." Harry passed his hand over his girl's face "But I had to tell the truth."

Y/N agreed, putting her arms around her best friend's neck, hugging him tightly.

"I'm glad you came." Harry murmured. "I couldn't stand another day without talking to you."

"Not anymore, babe. I'm yours from now on."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Any suggestions?

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To @leeroysdancer ;)

[robthomissed]

Life With Sammy

enjoy these little slices of life that I wrote based on a song that really doesn't mean anything but gave me the idea

inspired by Sentimental by WMD

Before Sammy

Life was…..fine. You were living and things weren’t bad but things just felt a little hollow. Every rainstorm or trip to the art museum or meal cooked for one was nice in a lot of ways but you couldn’t help but look around sometimes and feel like it would be nice to have someone there to share it with. Over time the light and color started to drain and each day was just more of the same. The small voice inside you saying it just wasn’t going to happen, time to make peace with being alone.

But then there is Sammy. He barrels into your life all big blue eyes, loud laughs, and warm hugs. You soon realize life with Sammy means more…

Laughter

He was laughing at you. This boy had the nerve to laugh at you even after you told him you had never learned how to skate. Sammy was managing to keep his amusement to soft chuckles as you wobbled along the wall of the Blues practice rink during a pre-season family skate.

“Come on babe, just slow down and watch me.” Sammy said as he helped you off the ice after your fourth fall in the last ten minutes. You weren’t one to stay patient while learning a new skill because your perfectionistic streak took over which was causing your brain to move faster than your feet could learn.

You let out a heavy sigh and took his hands as he proceeded to skate backward with infuriating ease. You focused your attention on his skates to try and pick up on what he was doing. Just as you thought you were getting the hang of it, Sammy's right skate caught a gash in the ice and he flailed backward dragging you down with him. There was a short moment of panic on your part when Sammy stayed quiet and still on the ice after you landed on top of him with his head tucked into your neck. Then after a few excruciating seconds, you felt him start to chuckle and you breathed a sigh of relief.

You both just laid there laughing to yourselves for a minute before he said “Okay, not that I don't love having you on top of me but let’s save it for when we get home.”

This sent you into another fit of blushing and giggling which you tried to hide by tucking your face back into Sammy’s shoulder. When you did finally manage to get yourself up off the ice Sammy still looked overly proud of himself that he had made you blush that hard.

Rain

You were sitting in Sammy’s car one night in the rain and just talking about life. Nothing and everything. Solving the world's problems and ranking the best place to get frozen custard in town. The rain is hitting the car just hard enough that it blocks out any noise from the outside world and creates a little bubble in time and space. It is only you two and the rest of the world is far away. The light from the streetlights coming through the rain-covered windows is lighting up his face in the most gorgeous way. The raindrops are casting shadows that cascade down the side of his face and make the shine of his eyes that much brighter.

Beauty

Sammy is beautiful in the small moments…

The way the summer sun brings out the auburn in his hair

The way his hand looked holding a wine glass

The furrow of his brows when he really focused on something

The way he always opened the door for you

The hugs after a long day

The way his voice sounds talking to your cat when he doesn’t think you are in the room

The crooked smile he gives you in the morning

The way he blushes whenever you tell him how breathtaking he is

Sammy is beautiful in so many ways and you hope one day he’ll actually believe you when you tell him

Relief

You aren’t stupid. You know the risks of playing professional hockey. You had seen numerous guys go down with various injuries in your years as a hockey fan. But having that knowledge in your head couldn’t prepare you for seeing Sammy crumpled in the corner after a crushing hit from you don’t even know who. The play continues up the ice but you can’t make yourself care as you watch Sammy lay still. Why haven’t they blown the whistle…. don't they see him? Finally, Torey gains control of the puck and the refs blow play dead as Ray trots out onto the ice. Robby quickly skates over to help him get to Sammy as fast as possible. The arena has gone so quiet you are sure the people around you can hear your heart pounding. Sammy begins to stir just as Ray and Robby reach him and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Okay. He’s moving. That’s good. Vince and Rouzy deliver a couple more trainers from the bench and then join Robby who is hovering just far enough to be out of the way but close enough to feel involved.

After a long few minutes, Sammy gets to his feet mostly on his own, and after a second of leaning on Vince and one of the trainers he skates off by himself. You stay in your seat for a few minutes unsure of what to do until Sammy texts you telling you they are sending him home but they want you to drive. You are greeted by Sammy’s widest smile as soon as you enter the training room. It makes you feel better that he isn’t flat on his back and seems to be mostly normal.

He gingerly gets himself off the training table and gives you a hug.

“You okay?” you ask into his shoulder

“Yeah babe, I’ll be okay. Just shaken up a bit so they don’t want me driving home” he says after placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“Okay good because I want you to stick around for a while,” you say with a sigh.

“Don’t worry you are going to be stuck with me for a long time” Sammy punctuates his teasing with a poke to your ribs which gets a giggle out of you.

“I think that is a burden I am willing to bear.” you tease back and break into giggles when he sticks his tongue out at you.

“Alright goofball let’s go home and get you off your feet”

Quiet

Sammy has a bit of a reputation for being loud. And he is when he is out with friends or when he gets excited about something but he also has a quiet side. Your favorite times with Sammy were when he was just walking around the apartment in his comfy clothes, a glass of wine in hand trying to decide what movie to watch. It was just so quietly domestic and made your heart do all kinds of fluttery things.

One night he catches you just staring at him while he is puttering around the kitchen making himself a late-night snack. When he notices he just stops what he is doing and asks “What?”

“Oh nothing.” you say quickly looking away trying to hide your blush from being caught.

“No no, tell me.” Sammy says as he circles around the kitchen island to stand in front of you and lean on the counter to block any potential escape.

“It’s- it’s just… I don’t know. I’m just really happy I get to see you like this.” you say blushing and barely making eye contact. Feelings are hard okay.

“ Like what?” Sammy says with just an adorably confused look that twists your gut a little bit more.

You sigh a bit and take a moment to find the right words. “Just this quiet side of you. I love your big and bubbly side but it is nice to know you are comfortable around me like this.”

Sammy looks at you still kinda confused, not saying anything and you begin to panic. “You know what, never mind just ignore me. Just go about your business”

After a few moments of silence, you suddenly find yourself pressed into Sammy’s chest as he tries to almost climb into your lap which is difficult since you were already perched rather precariously on the kitchen counter. You really can’t do anything besides hug him back and chuckle a bit.

When Sammy pulls back he just takes your face in his hands and kisses you on the forehead. “I love you babe. Of course I’m comfortable around you. So stare at me as much as you like.” He gives you a cheeky wink and turns his attention back to his snack.

Pleasure

All the years around various trainers and medical staff must have been what gifted Sammy with the unique ability to consistently find the knot in your shoulder with devastating speed and accuracy. The first time you had asked him to give you a quick shoulder rub after a long day you were not prepared for the targeted attack of his thumbs on your shoulder blades. He actually got a little scared when you let out a little noise of pain after he found a particularly sore spot one night.

“Oh no, did I hurt you!? My mom says I don’t know my own strength sometimes.” You didn’t even have to look back to imagine the way his eyebrows were knitted together with concern.

“No babe it’s fine. It’s that ‘hurts so good’ kinda thing. Keep going” You reassure him while rolling your shoulders to encourage him to continue.

Sammy seemed less than convinced but resumed his task nonetheless. He seemed to be holding back a bit though until he found a particularly tough knot and really went to work on it. You couldn’t hold in the winces and sighs as you felt the tension melt out of your body. It was your turn to be confused when you heard Sammy start quietly laughing behind you.

“Oh what now you are taking pleasure in my pain?” you asked with more than a little sarcasm.

“No, it’s just that I have only heard you make those noises under….different circumstances.” Sammy said with a smirk clearly heard in his voice.

You just rolled your eyes and turned to stick your tongue out at him because you couldn’t really come up with any clever retort. Sammy just continued to look very proud of himself when you announced you were going to make popcorn and he better have a movie picked out by the time you got back.

Struggles

You would be lying if you said that Sammy being out of town so much for a large part of the year wasn’t a strain on the relationship. You were the kind of person who really valued routine and knowing that your partner would be there when you got home most nights. You knew that that wasn’t going to be possible with Sammy and it had actually been the reason you had turned him down the first time he asked you out but thankfully he had persisted and you had decided he was worth it in the end. There were still hard days though because you would come home wanting to cook dinner together and cuddle on the couch but would be greeted by only your cat who was a great cuddle buddy but no replacement for Sammy. On those nights you would call Sammy just to hear his voice and see his smiling face. You were also usually treated to a few guest appearances by Vince and Rouzy who seemed to be ever-present around Sammy on road trips.

So while you still have bad days and crave the stability of a partner with normal working hours you know you wouldn’t trade Sammy for the world when he stumbled in the door dead on his feet but still trying to tell you every stupid thing Wally did and handing you some random airport trinket from whatever city the team had most recently visited.

Promise

Since Sammy had come into your life things had just felt better. You looked forward to getting up every day and seeing what was in store because you had someone to share it with. Sammy being in your life made you want to strive for more. He pushed you to be your best just like you did for him. You both made the other want to keep going to see where life would take you next. You never knew what was around the bend but you did know that you didn’t have to face it alone anymore.

Life with Sammy means more of everything...

[clefairymuke]

regrets | chapter three

prev. chapter | next chapter

pairings: levi ackerman x reader / eren jaeger x reader

themes: enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut

tw: violence / explicit sexual content

word count: 1760

Levi's words had undeniably left you a bit shaken; this contributed to the pit in your stomach when you approached his door for the second time that day. Something about the way he glared at you -- so angry yet calm, terrifying yet serene -- had been the frontmost thing in your mind all day. His eyes cut straight through you in a way that you had never experienced. You nearly shivered as you raised your hand to knock on the door. You knocked twice and stood back, waiting for him to say, "Come in."

He didn't, though. He opened the door within moments, like he had been waiting. He looked different now. He was not wearing his typical uniform and cravat combo, which you thought made him look like a dunce anyways. He was dressed in a simple grey long-sleeve shirt and brown pants. On his feet were a pair of white socks. When your eyes came to his face, you noticed that his hair was a bit messy. If he wasn't such a pain in your ass, he might have been somewhat attractive.

"Are you going to keep staring, or are you going to say something?" he asked, breaking you from your unknowing trance of studying him. And with that, all of your musing about him disappeared and he was back to being the bane of your existence.

"I was just trying to figure out how you managed to pull that stupid tie from around your neck without having a conniption. I thought you probably showered in it," you told him as he stood back to let you in. The room was as you left it last, completely tidy.

"How did you make it this far being this disrespectful?"

"A lot of determination. So what exactly am I to clean?" You looked around searching for even a speck of dust. None was to be found.

He scoffed at you. "Do you honestly think I sleep, cook, and shower at this very desk? Believe it or not, I function pretty similarly to the average human being. I did say you would be cleaning the entire suite."

"Okay, asshole. You don't have to make me feel like an idiot." You felt the blood rushing to your cheeks and tried desperately to fight it off, if such a thing was possible.

"It's easier because you truly are one."

"An idiot?"

"That is what I said. Do you have hearing problems, brat?" He combed a piece of hair out of his face as you huffed. "Can you just get to cleaning and get the fuck out of my hair? If you would just be obedient and stop doing stupid shit, we'd never have to be in this situation again."

"If you would've minded your own business and let us have a little extra food, we wouldn't have to be anywhere near each other, either!" You threw your hands up in an overly exaggerated shrug. Messing with Levi was no longer fun. It was utterly infuriating. "What do you care if I'm a little disobedient? How does it affect you, Levi?"

"For the last time, you will refer to me as your Captain. And that is exactly why it matters to me. You will not ignore my authority. I will have your respect, feigned or otherwise." He was glaring at you again, the same look in his eyes from earlier. You tried to match his intensity as you scraped the bottom of your soul for as much courage as you could muster.

"What have you done to make me respect you, Levi? It isn't like you respect me. Or anybody. You don't watch your words for anyone, what makes you think you deserve for me to watch mine because of a stupid title?" You were absolutely fuming with rage towards the man in front of you. His muscles were tense and his jaw was clenched tightly. You wondered if you had seen Levi angry now. Would he be able to make the same threatening comment after this interaction?

Within a second, he had you frozen. He said your name roughly, almost as a growl, and was now so close the ends of his hair brushed your cheeks. "You will not speak to me this way. Continue to treat your superiors as peers. You won't make it past the first mission. Do not become a casualty over a stupid fucking complex." You were sure he was angry now. Your blood was running cold against your will. "Stop looking for attention. If you keep going down this path, the most you will get is at your funeral in the very near future."

For the first time, you had no snark reply to his rage-inducing words. All you truly wanted to do was hit him. It was nearly impossible not to. Your fists were so harshly clenched you could feel the crescent-shaped wounds forming on your palms. All you could form a coherent thought to say was, "Fuck you, Levi."

He backed up, likely for your safety. His hand rose to grip his hair as he exhaled slowly. "Get the hell out. I can't stand to look at you. Forget your punishment. You cannot fix blatant stupidity."

You accepted his invitation and stormed towards the door, Levi following closely behind. he reached in front of you and practically tore the door off of the wall, slamming it as soon as your feet planted in the hallway.

You wanted to scream.

---

You sat in a pile of hay at the stables, still filled with anger. You had no way to release it except pressing your fingernails deeper into your palms as you replayed the fight over and over in your brain. You wanted to storm back up to his room and punch him in the face. You despised the smug look on his face as he taunted you. He could dish out any disrespect he wanted, but as soon as you returned the favor, you may as well be dead.

You heard hay rustling a few yards away. You stood quietly, one hand on the hilt of one of your swords and the other on the trigger for your ODM gear. You began to walk slowly towards the noise, saying, "Hello?" when you drew near. You could see a figure, but it was too dark to know who it was for sure.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize you were on stables tonight."

It was Eren. He was brushing the mane of a horse as he spoke. You let your guard down.

"What the hell are you doing?" you asked rather harshly. You hadn't meant to say it so angrily.

"Woah, what's wrong with you?" he questioned, placing the brush on the rack to his left and stepping away from the horse. You leaned against the wall next to him.

"I really, really hate Captain Levi," you told him honestly, pinching the bridge of your nose between two fingers.

"Hey, me too. But what's your reasoning?" He kind of laughed with his words, cheering you up a bit.

You told him the story. By the end, you were sitting together in the hay. When you finished, you placed your hands behind your head and leaned back until you were laying down, facing the stars. Eren followed suit.

"Trust me, I get it," he told you, a smile hinting in his voice. "He publicly beat the shit out of me. He's not exactly in my top ten favorite people." You laughed, your first time smiling since breakfast. "I don't even think you have a top ten, Eren. Maybe a top two."

"Nah, you're up there somewhere. Probably Reiner and Bertholdt, too. Make it a top five." He looked over at you, pulling his eyes away from the night sky. You did the same. You noticed his eyes were a really pretty green. Jean would puke if he knew you had really just thought that. You chuckled at the thought.

"What have I done to get into Eren Jeager's top five?" you asked him, interested. The two of you hadn't really talked previously.

"Well," he stretched a bit, his shirt lifting to expose a bit of his stomach, "your awful taste in friends aside, you seem like a good person. Fun. Smart. Interesting. Typical top five traits. Your looks definitely aren't a detriment."

You hoped he couldn't see you blush in the dark surrounding you. "Jean would kill me if he knew we were hanging out right now." It was true, but you mostly wanted to redirect the conversation. Eren basically telling you that you were pretty made you happy and made you want to crawl into a deep, dark hole at the same time. Emotions and compliments were not your strong suit.

"Jean doesn't have to know everything, you know. Mikasa wouldn't be a big fan, either." You thought about that for a moment.

"Mikasa is in love with you. Jean hates your guts. There's a bit of a difference in their reasoning, I would say," you told him, grinning.

He ignored your comment about Mikasa and focused on you, instead. "Sure, Jean hates me. But do you?" He looked at you expectantly, his green eyes growing larger.

You looked away for a moment, embarrassed. Then you looked back and met his gaze. "No, I don't suppose I do. Should I?"

"I'd prefer if you didn't, honestly. You're pretty fun to talk to." His lips pulled into a smile as he looked at you meekly. You would typically describe Eren as anything but meek. It suited him.

You looked at each other for a few moments. You noticed how his hair fell messily over his forehead, almost touching his eyebrows. It looked nice shaggier like that. You, for whatever reason, found yourself hoping he didn't cut it anytime soon. He had a slender nose that came to a nice point above his cupid's bow. His lips were slightly parted. They looked inviting.

After a comfortable silence, you finally said, "Jean doesn't make my decisions for me, you know. Nobody does."

You saw his eyes moving slowly, studying your face. You didn't try to prevent yourself from blushing this time. "I was hoping you'd say that."

"Why is that?" you asked as his face drew closer to yours. Suddenly, Eren was kissing you. Your face grew hot as he pulled away, but you put your hands behind his head and pulled him back towards you. As his hand traveled under your shirt, your worries about explaining this to Jean faded away completely.

[sohin-ace]

Doppio - Frog Princess

Fairy tale AU and lots of love for my small man.

Doppio dragged his feet across the garden, restless and desperate. He sighed and whined to himself, taking the opportunity of being all alone to voice his pain and concerns, something he was never allowed to do.

"Aww jeez... This prince life isn't made for me..."

He huffed again and tugged at his very uncomfortable, gold adorned collar that was almost suffocating him.

Doppio looked around him, sure enough, the tall trees surrounding him did a great job at hiding him from the potential workers on the castle grounds that could possibly be looking for him.

He could finally have a little moment for himself and sneak out, maybe to cry to himself a little bit.

"O-ow... That still hurts..." The boy whined and rubbed on his bruised fingers, the results of angry professors punishing him for each mistakes he made. "I'm no good, I can't do anything right..."

That's right. Prince Doppio was a clumsy and anxious boy who lacked capacity in every domain. He always tried his best and obeyed every and each order, he wasn't undisciplined, oh no, young Doppio was a good boy.

He was just bad. He hardly managed to keep the required straight stance for more than ten seconds, was better at petting the horses than at riding them, couldn't follow etiquette at all, or protocol, was extremely forgetful and sadly, mother nature did not grace him with the strongest physical traits a young man his age was expected to have.

"Tch... Trish was so popular everyone courted her and she was so easy to marry, but me... No one would want to marry a good-for-nothing like me..."

He angrily kicked some rock and held his back that cracked at the movement, in pain, squeezing his eyes shut and sobbing at the sore feeling. That last lesson of fencing went so terribly wrong, how did the others do it?

"I'm so tired... Why meee...?"

"Ribbit!"

"Huh?" Doppio was startled at the very sudden but intriguing croaky sound and approached its direction near the pond.

He couldn't see anything at first, but then a tiny little creature jumped out of its hiding place. Doppio's honey eyes widened and he quickly wiped his warm tears, crouching down towards the animal.

"A frog!" He exclaimed happily, almost like a small child, new to the world. "Hi! You're so tiny, what's your name?"

"Ribbit!"

He knew very well the animal couldn't respond to him with actual words, but just the feeling of having even a one-sided conversation soothed a bit of his loneliness down. He cupped his hands together to invite the frog in, and the animal obliged by jumping on them.

He looked down and observed the chubby little creature. It had the cutest, roundest eyes, almost sparkly in the dim forest light, its green color was so bright and homogenous, there weren't any marks or patterns that frogs usually had on their skin. Even its limbs were tiny and soft, Doppio couldn't help but pet it with one careful and shaky finger.

"O-ooh! Oh my god!" He squealed uncontrollably. "You're so squishy!"

"Ribbit ribbit!"

The quiet and high-pitched croak felt so pleasant to his ears, it meddled with the sound of the water next to him and made him feel so much at peace. He loved to hear that cute sound and how the frog's belly puffed up like a balloon with each croak.

"What are you? A boy or a girl? I'd say you're a girl because you're super pretty and have a tiny voice."

"Ribbit Ribbit! Ribbit Ribbit!"

Doppio gasped loudly. "D-did I get it right?! Oohh yes!! That's so cool! Well... Not like I would have minded if you were a boy... Or both... Wait, do frogs have genders? Oh it doesn't matter."

The young prince felt like this frog was currently the only thing keeping him sane. He had no one else to talk to, there was no one who actually cared for his own well-being and he had no friends.

The only real person to actually show him some kind of recognition and love was none other than the King Diavolo himself. But even his sweet words and affection seemed somewhat back-handed and laced with pressure and severity.

"You know, you're lucky, little thing..." Doppio started with melancholy. "You don't have to worry so much about your life... I'm bad at everything and I'm all alone... I don't know what to do..."

"Ri-rib, ribbit!"

"Even if a nice princess wanted to marry me, I would turn her down because she would deserve better... Sometimes I wish I could disappear..."

"Ribb-ribbit!"

Doppio's eyes softened on the small frog. That's how sad and pathetic he was. Talking his problems out with a frog.

"Why do I feel like you actually understand me...? Thank you for listening to me and being my only friend."

Without even thinking, he lifted the small frog and brought it towards his face, giving it the tiniest of pecks. He smiled at how weird the feeling was, the animal was cold and slightly humid, a bit sticky too which he did not mind surprisingly.

He sighed and looked up mindlessly before his eyes were suddenly striked by a blinding flash of light.

"Wh-what the hell?!"

The light flashed brighter and brighter, coming from the frog in his hands. What was going on?

Doppio could only drop the creature and shield his eyes with his arms desperately as the frog sparkled like a thousand fireflies and grew in size.

The boy squinted his eyes shut and fell back right onto his butt before he felt a strong weight pressing on him, the mass eventually pinning him down onto the ground.

"U-uughh..." He groaned and rubbed his head, a sharp headache from the harsh light hitting his sensitive eyes still slowly fading.

He looked down only for his eyes to widen like saucers. He couldn't believe what he was currently witnessing and thought that maybe he went blind from the flash and was hallucinating right now.

The weight on top of him revealed to be the figure of a girl laying unconscious. He couldn't see her face buried in his chest, but he could make out her beautiful hair, smooth skin tone and the very frilly green dress she was wearing.

And that wasn't just any dress either, the golden ornaments, the tulle, the silk, the lace, the satin... That was an expensive dress, was she...could she be... A nobleswoman? A baroness? A...

...A princess?

"A-aah..." The girl moaned quietly before pushing herself up, not without struggle and Doppio gasped.

"A-are you okay signori-..." The boy could barely finish his sentence and only mumbled open-mouthed nonsense.

He was beyond mesmerized at the beauty who had just ever-so-slowly lifted her face up to look at him. Her shining wide eyes, her innocent glossy lips, her rose dusted cheeks and her hair framing her perfect face made him believe he just stumbled into some sort of forest Goddess.

"Ah-I... U-uuhm.. Y-you...uh.. W-ah-...eh... I-I'm..." He stammered awkwardly, his brain melting like ice in summer as his face and ears burned a crimson red, his breath catching in his now dry throat.

"Ah! My stars!" The girl gasped as she hovered over the immensely flustered prince. "I am so sorry! I must be crushing you!"

The young girl fretted anxiously before trying to scramble over on her knees and straighten herself up to give the poor man some much needed space, but as soon as she did, she was hit with a wave of dizziness and lost balance again. Doppio was quick to sit up and catch her against his chest, wrapping careful arms around her.

"A-are you okay, miss? What happened to you? What's going on?" The boy asked worriedly, regaining his composure slowly.

"Ah y-yes... It's just... It's been so long since I've been glamoured..."

"You've been... Glamoured?" Doppio couldn't be more confused than this, but the girl explained further as she leaned back slightly.

Her name was Y/N L/N, daughter of the King L/N. Many years ago, she had been the victim of a curse cast by the one and only sorcerer Dio, who was overcome by fury and rage against anyone affiliated with the Joestar Empire, or those who refused to become one of his pets, casting spells after spells, and curses after curses.

"He turned me into a frog and swore to me that nobody would ever come to save me from my demise... But you..." Y/N looked up at Doppio's honey eyes and couldn't help the tears pooling at her eyes.

She was free, at last.

"I was all alone... And you came here... My savior..."

Her soft voice cracked with thick emotions and she stared into Doppio's golden eyes with soft ones, her vision blurred by warm tears. Doppio gasped lightly, moved by her story and she shyly wiped her tears.

"A-ah, forgive me! How shameful of me, to weep in front of a prince like this... I'm just.. So..."

"No, princess, don't apologize." He gently held her wrists to pull them away from her timid face. "You have the right to be overwhelmed... Nobody's here, besides... I cried too, earlier, in front of you. Nothing wrong with showing your emotions."

She sighed dreamily at his gentle words and soft touches, the now more confident boy stirring her heart. "What is your name, my prince?"

"Doppio." He gulped, stiff as a rock at her saccharine gaze and tone. "Doppio Vinegar."

"You're a good person, Doppio..." She breathed out, her words dripping with warm sincerity. Doppio's heart could only skip beats at each and every one of her actions.

The boy may be clumsy and bashful, he surely wasn't dense. He well knew he was deeply falling in love with this frog princess, but something in him told him she may not be completely disinterested in him either, despite his overall appearance and personality.

But maybe, just maybe, it was because she didn't know him enough. She didn't know this extent of his foolishness, how worthless of a man he truly was. This was the perfect opportunity for her to just push him away and run back home, only to never see him again.

But against all he could have ever expected, he was completely shaken out of his low self-esteem filled transe when he felt her leaning her delicate hands and head against his chest, closing her eyes and relishing in his warm hold still on her.

"Prince Doppio... I feel so safe when I'm in your arms... I'll forever be grateful for granting me my deepest wish..." She lifted her head just enough to look at his blushing freckled face, his mouth agape. "How could I ever reward you?"

Was she... Really serious? Nobody has ever told him they felt good around him. Nobody has ever felt safe around the small and skinny man that was Doppio. Could he be strong enough for her?

Well one thing was positive, he didn't want to let her go, and if he had to eat razor blades to protect her, he would do it without batting an eye.

She actually wanted to, or at least seemed to, stay with him. She felt grateful, for him, of all people!

He hoped she wouldn't hear his heart go feral in his chest. She would do... Anything for him? Could he be selfish? Could he ask the inimaginable? Would she say yes? He wouldn't force her but... He would love to think about himself only, just this once in his life.

He had nothing to lose.

He gently grabbed both her hands in his surprisingly big ones, squeezing gently and rubbing his thumbs over her soft skin, as if to want to imprint his love onto her.

"Ma-... Marry me, Princess Y/N!" He confessed with loud yet clear determination. "Please, be mine! I will cherish you like my most prized treasure, you will never be alone and feel unsafe again! I promise my entire life to you, please promise me yours!"

She widened her eyes at his sudden assertiveness and his strong, meaningful words. The pink boy in front of her shook her heart in so many ways, and she had already lost everything to Dio in the past. She had absolutely no reason to deny, now did she?

The girl smiled bright and slowly pulled her hands out of his grasp, only to immediately wrap her arms around her hero's neck, nuzzling her face against him lovingly.

"Yes! I accept... my sweet Doppio."

[calpalirwin]

See Through

Summary: Ashton gets in over his head.

A/N: Loosely based on See Through by the Band CAMINO.

Word Count: 1.6k

And away, and away we go!

__

I pushed my way into the studio, and immediately stopped in confusion. At the mixing board sat a woman, her back turned to me, a khaki colored messenger bag on the ground by her feet. “Um, excuse me?” I announced my presence. “But I think you might have the wrong room.

“Oh!” she said, jumping slightly before turning to face me. “You must be the band! Hi, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.” She took a few steps towards me, hand extended.

“Ashton,” I introduced myself, shaking her hand.

Y/N nodded knowingly. “So, we’re just waiting on the other three. Cool.” She stole a glance down at her watch. “Cool,” she repeated.

“Yeah… Um… sorry. Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N. You’re Ashton. Try to keep up, hon,” she smiled sweetly at me, and I detected the hint of a drawl in the way she called me “hon.”

I chuckled politely. “No, I’m aware of that. I meant… I was under the impression that it was just going to be me and my mates. So I’m a little confused by your presence.”

“Nobody told you that I’m the producer?”

“Nope, because we’re the producers. And the song writers. And the band. Because it’s our album.”

“Mmm. And how many albums have you produced, Ashton? Without outside help that is. Or, should I say songs, because every album you have you’ve worked with someone besides just your close-knit 4-some.”

“Sorry, I’m not trying to be disrespectful. But it’s not often our team gets shaken up. The people we’ve worked with, we’ve worked with them for years. So I’m trying to play catch up here.”

“No, I’m aware you’re not challenging me purposefully. I know I’m the new guy to figure out. So let’s do a brief overview. I’m Y/N, like I’ve said. I just relocated here to LA from Nashville.”

“And I’m assuming the time you spent in Nashville, you were producing?”

“Yes. I’ve been a producer for about five or six years now.”

“Mhm. And how much of that producing experience was with country artists versus primarily rock artists?”

“Don’t let my accent fool you. The Nashville music scene is a lot more than just country twang music these days,” Y/N said with a small laugh. “I’ve worked closely with Dan Swank. Who, if you’re not aware, does a lot of work with All Time Low. And various other artists. But I know you know who All Time Low is because you’ve also worked with them. So, we can continue to do this back and forth where you try to decide if I’m a producer worthy enough of your time. Which is a game I’m used to playing, so I assure you I play it well. Or, you could let me do my job, and my work will speak for itself. Personally, I would opt for the second choice, because things flow a lot more smoothly that way.”

My cheeks warmed in embarrassment. “Sorry… So you’re Y/N and you’re a producer from Nashville who’s relocated to LA. Cool. I’m Ashton. I’m primarily a drummer, who’s also relocated to LA.”

“Nice to meet you, Ashton,” she smiled with a small laugh, accepting my attempt at starting over.

~~~

“So,” I started as we walked out of the studio after the third day with Y/N. “You wanna go grab a coffee, or something?”

She raised an eyebrow, looking me up and down. “With you?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“Hence the “or something” bit.”

“Okay-”

“Great! I’m parked over here. Or I can send you the address if you’d rather drive yourself.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Okay,” she tried again. “Look, here’s the thing. I don’t make it a habit to go out with the artists I work with.”

“Saying you don’t make it a habit suggests that you have exceptions.”

“Oh, and let me guess. You think you’re the exception?”

I gave my best flirting laugh and charming look. “Honey,” I drawled out, leaning down slightly to be by her ear. “I’m always the exception.”

She sighed dreamily and I knew I had her. I bit back my smirk as her fingers danced across my bicep and onto my chest. She gave it a small pat. “Oh, Ashton… People don’t tell you ‘no’, do they?”

“As a general rule, no they don’t.” 

“Rules, like habits, have exceptions. And, darlin’, I’m also always the exception.” Then, she was moving away from me, across the parking lot, leaving me standing there, slack-jawed, wondering what the hell had just happened.

~~~

I watched as she paused mid-conversation to pull her phone from her pocket. She gave the contact information the smallest of glances, before slipping her phone back into her pocket, and then her voicemail message was sounding through my phone speaker.

I hit the end call button, pocketing my own phone, and trying to control my scowl. Nothing about this made sense to me. It wasn’t often I had a woman I couldn’t get off my mind who never seemed to spare a second thought about me in return. And it was never with a woman I was forced into close proximity with for an extended amount of time, like working on an album. And I absolutely hated that her attitude towards me only made me want her more. But seven months in, and I was just as lost with her as I had been on day one.

Replaying every interaction only drove me crazier, thinking about things I could have done differently. Thinking about what I would do next if I could get more than two words with her.

I mentally cursed myself as I instinctively sucked in my breath when I saw her walking my way. And I could have screamed at the way her shoulder brushed up against me, not even bothering to give me the slightest indication that she had bumped into me, as she kept walking by. Like she didn’t even see me. And I envied her ability to look right through me, because I knew I’d never be able to do the same when it came to her.

My vision blurred, and I felt my chest grow tight, and despite being outside, I needed to get fresh air. A minute to breathe and recompose myself. A minute I wouldn’t get where I was. So I left. Through the party of people, passed the rows of parked cars out front, mine included.

I kept walking, not sure where I was going, but knowing that each step made it easier to breathe, the cloud in my head thinning out until it was just her name bouncing around.

I slowed, looking around at street signs to orient myself, planning my next move. I didn’t want to go back to the party, but I didn’t want to necessarily go home either. I wanted to see her, and have her see me, too. So, stupidly, I pulled out my phone and tried to call her yet again. “C’mon,” I muttered as the phone started to ring. “Pick up, please. Pick up, pick up, pick u-”

“Hey, Ash. Where’d you disappear off to?”

“I- You answered…”

“Of course I answered.”

“Really?” I asked, unable to keep the bitter edge out of my voice, even if I was flooded with relief that she had answered my call this time. “Cuz you haven’t before.”

“Ash…”

“Save it, please. Whatever excuse you have. I shouldn’t have called. I should’ve learned by now.”

“Learned what by now?”

“That I’m not the exception. That sometimes I lose. That I shouldn’t want the girl who clearly doesn’t want me. Hell, you don’t even acknowledge I exist 90 percent of the time. You’re just not the one I get right, I guess. I was always a slow learner.”

“Okay. You wanna pause the pity party for a second, and listen to me?”

I wanted to say that, despite everything, I’d never pass up a chance to listen to her. What I ended up saying though was, “I’m listening.”

“I notice you, Ash. You make it impossible not to. But, I have a strong tendency to act unfazed as a defensive mechanism. I work in the music scene, Ash, same as you. You know the range of personality issues as well as I do. But the things I do, I do to protect myself. I never meant for those same things to hurt you. Because I know you’re not any of the things I need to protect myself from.”

“Glad we could clear that up…”

“I’m not finished. When I told you when we met that I don’t make it a habit to go out with people I work with, there was a reason for that.”

“Yeah, and I’m assuming that it has to do with things going poorly before, hence the having to make it a habit, and other protective measures.”

“You’re not very good at listening, are you?”

“I told you I was a slow learner.”

She let out a small half-sigh/half-chuckle. “Ashton. The album’s done. It’s out. We don’t work together anymore. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

I broke out in a run back towards the party. Towards her. I hoped I hadn’t wandered off too far, that she'd be around the next corner, waiting for me. “Stay where you are. I’m on my way. I gotta see you.”

“Not if I see you first,” was the reply first ten feet in front of me, then through my phone.

I slowed, a smile breaking out across my face as I found her staring at me, so close I could reach out and touch her, her phone pressed to her ear, a matching smile on her face. I slowed, but I didn’t stop until I closed the distance. And I didn’t care that my heart was about to leap from my chest, or that I couldn’t catch my breath, because I was seeing her, and she was seeing me. And I was ducking my head, and she was stretching up on her tiptoes, her lips meeting mine.

__

Tag List

@aquarius-hood1996​ @creator-appreciator​ @philthepegacorn​ @myfavfanficsever​ @cxddlyash​ @youngblood199456​ @stormrider505​ @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof​ @hoodhoran​ @metalandboybands​ @maybeememez​ @major5sosstan @kaitieskidmore1​ 

[dreamescapeswriting]

Under The Moonlight ~ SCB

WORDS: 4.2K

GENRE: AU, Werewolf au, college au, fluffy

PAIRING: Changbin x Fem!Reader

The light flooding your bedroom woke you up at 5 am as you heard the birds on your roof starting to sing loudly, you groaned rolling over and looking out of the bedroom window. Every night you wanted to close the curtains but you never did, there was something inside of you compelling you to keep the curtains open instead. You never knew what it was thought, just a feeling inside of you that made you keep them open, 

"Morning! Do you want some tea?!" Your roommate asked from below your bedroom window, she was just coming back from her run that morning you could tell by the way she was sweating and her hair was up in a messy ponytail, 

"Please." You called out sitting down on the window seat and looking into the forest next to the house you lived in, you were in your own place closest to the university you attended with your roommates. Looking into the forest somehow brought you some kind of peace, it always had ever since you were a kid. You used to go out and get lost in there for hours until you found your way out or your father would come and find you. Even as a teenager you spent a lot of your time in there, just drawing or wandering around for hours on end, there was just something about it. Something moved within the trees and you squinted to get a better view of whatever it was but then your roommate screamed, 

"FOOD!" You looked away for a split second before going back to the trees and seeing nothing there, you shook your head thinking it was probably just your imagination and the fact that you were tired doubling up together. 

"Do you have a project due this week?" Your roommate asked as you sat at the table together, you hummed looking through your lever-arch folder, 

"I have an English assignment with Professor Namjoon and then a...Science one with Professor Hoseok." She laughed as you groaned about how much you hated science, it was pointless but the college was making you take it to pick up an extra class. 

"Science is great,"

"Easy for you to say you weren't paired up with someone who quit college last term." You slammed the folder shut wanting nothing more than for the day to be over already, it was the weekend and you were going to get the entire house to yourself. 

"When are you leaving?" You questioned Mina as she got up from the table, 

"After lunch, I'll come home, grab my stuff and get out of here. You won't miss me too much will you?" She whispered, putting her hands on your shoulders and acting as though you were a couple, 

"Oh I don't think I'll survive without you Mina," You replied sarcastically, hitting her hands as she bent down to kiss your cheek rushing towards the bathroom.

The whole day had dragged on so much you couldn't wait to get home to the empty house, Mina had already text you to tell you she was home safe and sound and now you were making your way home. It was pitch black outside thanks to the extra hours you were putting in for studying, 

"You shouldn't walk alone at night, you know that right?" A security guard said as you got out into the parking lot, you shook your head as you patted your bag.

"I have everything I need in here to keep my safe, I'll be fine." He waved you goodbye before going back to his patrolling of the grounds. You kept your hand on your bag as you walked through the streets, your house was about a ten-minute walk away so you didn't have to be worried about a lot right now, everything was under street lights until you go to your place. Then it was one light outside your place that wasn't even that great for seeing much since the bulb was out. A twig snapped from behind you and you shot around looking for whatever caused the sound, 

"Hello?" You called out turning on your phone flashlight to see who was there but there was nothing, you turned towards the forest as you got to your driveway the flashlight on your phone caught something reflective between the trees and you frowned. Nothing was supposed to be out there, no lights, no reflective surfaces so like every dumb character in a horror movie you decided to go out there and see what it was. 

"Is someone out here?" You called out as you reached the trees looking through as you poked your torch through first. A growl came from something further in the woods, the place was known for bears and the odd wolf but nothing that would make that kind of sound, 

"What the fuck?" You whispered as you headed straight into the woods, you looked up to see the moon was out and it looked amazing. Not quite a full moon yet but it was still just as gorgeous as ever, you looked back down at the ground as you kept walking, not wanting to trip over anything.

What were you doing? He kept his eye on you as you walked through the forest floor, it felt as though he was stalking you but he had to make sure you were protected. Anything could have happened to you in those woods and he was about to risk something happening to you, not when he was so drawn to you. He was about to turn back when he heard you gasp and trip over, the scent of blood filled his nose instantly and he growled loudly hearing someone coming closer towards you.

"Don't even think about," He thought in his head hoping it was just someone else in his pack that happened to be wandering around the woods that night but they only changed on a full moon, they never wanted to change with willingness like Changbin did. Whoever it was, was getting closer to you with some serious speed so Changbin rushed out, standing over you as you laid on the floor letting out a loud scream. 

There was a huge wolf around 10ft high towering over your body and growling at another one right behind you, the one behind you had dirty blonde fur with bright red eyes he was watching both you and Changbin as he backed off into the woods. The wolf above you looked down at you as if checking you were okay before making its way back into the trees, not before you got a good look at his eyes. A brown colour that somehow made you feel at home, his fur was a light brown colour, as it caught you staring it growled again, you scrambled to your feet and made your way back to the house. 

"You're just dreaming, it's just a dream. You're at the library right now and you'll wake up." A howl came from the woods behind you so you began sprinting to the house calling Mina as soon as you got reception back on your phone. 

"Call me...I'm going to sound crazy but I think I just saw a werewolf." You hung up locking the door and sprinting up to your bedroom, you looked out of the window and into the woods where a pair of brown eyes were watching you from the edge of the woods. Changbin so no use in hiding from you like he did that morning, he just watched you as you closed your curtains for the first time in the four months of you living in the house. It put him at ease watching you close the curtains, it was the one night he wasn't going to have to stay up all night in wolf form to guard your window, making sure that no one else was watching you like he was.

Monday morning rolled around and you were a lot less shaken up about everything that had happened Friday night, Mina had come back to the house on Sunday convincing you that it was probably just your mind making things up but that howl, the growls and the fact that a huge beast stood over you didn't seem something you could imagine. His eyes, you couldn't get them out of your head. You'd spent your last English lecture drawing them all over your book while your professor spoke about Emily Bronte, you'd read and analysed all of her books so it wasn't like you were missing much. But there was one thing you hadn't noticed in your lesson, new student Seo Changbin had been watching you the whole time, he'd been nervous ever since Friday night. You hadn't left your house all weekend and it bothered him, he didn't mean to scare you the way he did in his wolf form but now he was beginning to wonder if you would remember any of it. You had hit your head on the ground pretty hard when he towered above you. 

"Y/n!" Changbin could hear Mina's voice down the hallway so he looked up, you were walking towards him - or rather Mina but going past him. He wanted to reach out and say something to you but he knew it was for the best if he didn't, he pulled his bag over his shoulder ready to leave, he was meeting Chan and I.N for lunch but as he turned to walk away you bumped shoulders. He took in a deep breath of your scent as it filled his air, your eyes locked with one another as you began walking, as you kept going towards Mina your eyes stayed locked with Changbin's as if you looked away something bad would happen to you. 

"Y/n? Y/nnnnn?" You turned to see Mina who was now standing in front of you and waving her hand in your face, 

"You okay?" You nodded looking back over your shoulder at Changbin, you'd seen him around before but you didn't know who he was. 

"I think I know him..." You frowned feeling the feeling of familiarity when you looked at the guy, 

"Changbin? He's new. Transferred about three months ago, hangs out with Chan." He was still watching you closely until you turned your head back to Mina who was smiling at you, 

"Does someone have a crush?" You let her tease you as you walked towards the lunch hall together, you didn't have a crush but there was something about Changbin that made you feel like you knew him. 

Changbin and Chan smirked at one another at the table as they heard you and Mina talking, 

"He is cute and he hangs out with Chan so you know he's a great guy," Chan smirked licking his lips as he heard Mina paying him a compliment, 

"Why can't my mate be a human? That's so hot." Chan groaned looking at Mina and then to you, you were both lost in your own worlds you hadn't even felt them staring at you but Changbin snapped Chan out of his daydream. 

"Someone attacked her in the woods...I don't think she's going to be human much longer Chan..What do I do?" Chan looked at the worried-looking Changbin, 

"There isn't much to do, you've been staying in the woods every night for so long Changbin maybe you should just stop and let what happens, be." But Changbin didn't want you to end up like him, forced to change every full moon or change whenever you want. The process was agonising, all of your bones breaking so that they could conform to the wolf-like genes in your system, it was painful unless you did it so often you were used to it.

"Will you drop it? I just like his eyes...They seem familiar to me somehow." Mina faked a gasp, 

"What if he's that werewolf you saw?" Chan and Changbin froze, even though it was clearly a joke coming from Mina they both stared at one another not knowing what to do.

"You're an idiot and I have a science project, goodbye." The sound of a textbook colliding with the back of Mina's head made Changbin laugh but he disguised it as a cough when he could smell you coming closer to him.

"You're lucky, she smells insane." I.N groaned finally coming into the conversation at the last second as you walked out of the food hall, 

"Don't you have science with her? She complains that her new partner never shows up." Chan hissed looking at Changbin who stared at the door, he was supposed to be with you in class but whenever he tried to force himself into the room all he could smell was your scent which drove him insane, to the point where he couldn't control himself. 

"Class. Go. Now."

"I'm your partner...Well, your science partner...I'm supposed to sit here." The stuttering made you look up and you were almost shocked to see Changbin standing there, he smiled to himself when he heard your heart begin to race upon seeing him. It wasn't just him that was nervous about this, it was a good thing. 

"Sorry I've been avoiding science...I hate it," He chuckled taking the seat next to you, you smiled at him shaking your head and promising him that it was fine. 

"It's alright, I hate it too but I guess not all of us are handsome enough to get away with skipping." Your hand clamped over your mouth as you said more than you wanted to, he smirked at you. 

"You think I'm handsome." You kept your head down sliding him your folder full of the notes from the last three months of classes, 

"You won't even look at me now? How am I supposed to look into those beautiful eyes," You felt a heat rush through your body as he paid you a compliment and you looked at him nervously, 

"You think I have beautiful eyes," He relaxed as you finally look at him again, 

"I do, I've seen you around and you seem nice. I'm Changbin." He held his hand out for you to shake so you took it, 

"Y/n." He smiled going through your notes with you and asking you for tips on what books to study from, 

"I'm in the library tonight if you want to come by...Just to study I mean, I have my English assignment to work on as well." He did too since he was in the same English as you but he just nodded at you and began talking to you about anything he could come up with. He didn't want this time with you to go to waste.

That night after studying at the library you and Changbin were making your way out of the college, 

"I'll walk you home if you want, where are you living?" He already knew that of course, but he couldn't let you know that he knew that. It would be weird for him to know where you lived, which bedroom was yours and that every night before bed you'd crawl onto the window and stare into the woods where he could see you. 

"Just up this road, I can walk alone it's okay..." You wanted him to walk you but you didn't want to seem desperate, after getting to know him all day it felt as though you'd known him for years. 

"No..No I heard what happened on Friday I just want to make sure you got home okay-"

"Oh! I get it! It's just some big joke isn't it? See if Y/n really saw what she saw in the woods and then make everyone laugh at her?" He was scared, he had no idea where the sudden outburst of anger was coming from so he held his hands up, 

"N-No, I heard Mina-"

"Forget it! I can walk myself home!" You stormed off down the road but Changbin had a bad feeling about it so he got into the edges of the paths, sticking to the dark as he watched you. 

The whole walk home you could feel eyes on you, 

"Changbin! Seriously, stop following me I know you're there!" You yelled turning around, he came out from the dark, 

"Let me explain-" He froze when he heard a branch snap in the woods, the joys of being a werewolf his hearing was enhanced, 

"What?" You questioned looking behind you to see what he was staring at but there was nothing there, 

"Changbin? I'm still mad-" You screamed as someone grabbed you from behind and held a knife up to your side, 

"Make a move and she dies!" You whimpered against whoever was holding you, Changbin stared at them his eyes turning dark as he stared them down. 

"Leave her alone!" It almost came out as a growl but you whimpered feeling the knife digging into your stomach, as soon as the thug made a move Changbin changed into his werewolf form within seconds, towering over the man who dropped both you and the knife scrambling away towards the houses further down the road. You crawled back on your hands looking as the werewolf from Friday night came over to you, it whined falling down onto the floor in front of you and staring at you. 

"C-Changbin?" It nodded its head and you froze looking at him, his eyes were just like his human eyes, 

"It was you last week...I thought Mina was going insane..." You whispered reaching out your hand shakily to stroke his fur, his lips parted as he began panting heavily like a dog would. Then the door to your house started to unlock, within seconds Mina was at the door staring at you on the floor. 

"Why are you sat on the floor?!"

"I was-" You looked to see where Changbin had gone but the giant 10-foot werewolf was nowhere to be seen, you just grabbed your bag from the floor and ran towards the house trying to think about what you had seen. 

As expected your curtains were open but this time your window was too, you were sitting there looking into the woods so Changbin made his way out and over to your lawn. It was almost 3 am, you were supposed to be asleep but you were wide awake. You hadn't been able to get the thought of Changbin being a wolf out of your head for hours, 

"Changbin?" He nodded his head and you looked around deciding to climb down the pipe next to your window, Changbin rushed to the bottom ready to catch you if you slipped but you stared at him patting his head softly. 

"So I'm not insane." You whispered looking at him as he brushed his head on your leg, 

"You know I wish I could speak to you." He smirked to himself thinking about what it would mean if you ever became something like him, it would mean the rest of your lives together since wolfs barely aged, but it would also mean someone would have to hurt you...Someone like him. He growled at the thought of it when a branch snapped again, your eyes darted to the woods. The same glowing red eyes were there like Friday night, he knew it was someone who was supposed to Change you but he didn't want that yet, he wanted you to change when the time was right. 

"Changbin...What is that?" A large howl sounded and about 6 more pairs of glowing red eyes began to come out from the woods, Changbin knew who they were. It was the other pack that lived in the town, he brushed against you knocking you so you were sitting on his back. 

"CHANGBIN!" You screamed as he began to rush off in the opposite direction as if you knew what you were doing you held onto his fur not wanting to slip from his body. Glancing over your shoulder you could see the other wolves gaining speeds and catching up to you, Changbin wasn't as fit as they were, they were living on humans while Chan, I.N and Changbin were living on a diet of mostly animals not wanting to disturb anyone with the curse they had.

"Shit!" You screamed letting go for a second and slipping from Changbin, he hadn't noticed until he heard you scream out in agony. You cried out holding onto the bite one of the wolves had left on your arm, it was like a burning sensation ripped through your skin making you scream out in anguish as Changbin pulled you up with his teeth.

"C-Changbin." You panted as he kept running in the direction of his own place, Chan would know what to do. Chan could fix it and make sure you weren't going to end up like them. 

Your head felt like it was on fire when you came around, you looked up to see you were laying in a bedroom you didn't know, there were awards on the wall with Changbin's name on them, 

"You're awake! Chan! She's awake," You stared at Changbin going to move when you felt a pain rip through your shoulder, 

"Mother of god!" You cried out looking at your shoulder, you were in an oversized shirt that exposed one shoulder, it was covered in a bandage. Images of the night before came flooding back to you, the werewolf that bit you. 

"A-Am I?" Changbin's eyes moved away from yours once the door opened, Chan handed you some pain killers and water. 

"By tonight you'll be in more pain so get used to it," Changbin punched Chan in the arm, 

"I'm telling her the truth, it's a full moon...She needs to be mentally prepared for what's coming..." There were so many questions in your head that you needed answers for but Chan had no time for them, 

"I have class, I'll tell the school you're both sick..." The door shut and you were left alone with Changbin who gave you a sympathetic look, 

"I didn't want this to happen...You weren't supposed to become one of us."

"One of you...Y-You mean I'm going to change into..." You couldn't say the words so you just made fangs with your fingers and then growled at him which made him chuckle softly, 

"Yeah, that." You knew you should have been freaking out but somewhere deep inside it felt as though you knew it was going to happen one day.

"Can I control it like you do?" He nodded at you, 

"With practice, it's possible you can learn to. Aren't you scared?" You pulled your knees into your chest, wincing at the pain in caused in your shoulder but you shook your head. 

"N-No? I should be, right? But I'm just not..." He'd heard stories of humans that had been changed through the bite not being worried about it. 

"Does it feel like you've always known?" You nodded at him explaining your fascination with the woods since you were a kid and it began to make sense for him. It could be the reason you were mates, someone made for the woods and someone made in the woods but he wasn't going to tell you that you. You'd had enough with the whole werewolf news, for now, he would keep it a secret until he had to tell you or you found out on your own.

You giggled as Changbin came back to the house last, 

"You're getting slower." You laughed looking at him as he changed back into his human form, you'd been a werewolf for four months now and learnt to control your impulses rather quickly. 

"You're just new at this," He grumbled wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you softly, a groan could be heard from the porch steps, it was Chan. 

"Guys stop it, it's disgusting. We get it. You're mates." He got a smack from Mina who was kissing him goodbye, 

"They're being romantic,"

"They've had four full moons to be romantic, stop it, it's gross." You smirked kissing Changbin again. On your second full moon, it became clear what Changbin was for you and neither of you could stay apart from the other after that, spending every night and day together for as long as you could.

"Just wait till she's in heat, you'll be begging them to stop," Chan smirked pushing his way past you and Changin as he rushed off towards the woods jumping and turning into a wolf in the air just to show off in front of Mina. 

"Heat? As in like a dog?! You're going to be whining like my puppy did? No! No fucking way, when that happens you're in the woods." She shut the door on you making you giggle and turn to look at Chanbin who had a giant grin on his face, 

"Funny that she thinks you'll even come home the whole time you're in heat, I won't be able to keep my paws off you." You rolled your eyes, 

"Like you can anyway," You smirked kissing him roughly as you made out under the moonlight together, your hands tangling into his hair as he carried you into the house.

Tagline: @peachyhan​ @taestannie​

[stargaze-sunflower]

There’s a scene in Nothing Can Stop Della Duck where Huey and Dewey hug Della after her and Louie almost die, and I thought that Louie deserved a hug, too, so I wrote this. I hope you like it! :]

Ao3 Link

.

Huey was happy that their mom came back. He was thrilled, really, he was over the moon (pun not intended). And he was nervous, of course, but that was just how he was. This was completely new territory, and he’d never done well with that – with dealing with things that he didn’t have all of the facts for. He didn’t like when things weren’t easily explained, but this was his mom, and he was prepared to try.

Louie… was not.

Huey didn’t notice that anything was off with his youngest brother until they were all gathered in the dining room. He should’ve noticed earlier, really. Normally he would be better than this at reading his siblings, but he’d been thoroughly distracted for the whole day. Your mom coming back from the dead could do that, he supposed, but he still felt like he’d failed at being a brother.

(“Hey, look, don’t get me wrong, of course I’m happy to have mom back.”

“But?”

“But, I dunno. It’s probably my fault. I’ve gone so long without a mom, I guess I don’t really know how to have one?”)

Louie had been painfully unsure, and stuck in his head so much that he apparently felt like it was his fault that he had mixed feelings. It probably didn’t help that everyone else seemed to be adjusting just fine. Dewey especially was absolutely thrilled, and his pure elation had a way of taking up all the attention in the room and leaving no space for anything else. Louie wouldn’t have wanted to put a damper on everyone’s excitement, and so he hadn’t said a single thing about how he was feeling. It was only when he’d been directly asked that Louie brought it up, and Huey was kicking himself for not having attempted a conversation about it sooner. It’s not like they’d been sleeping last night; they could’ve talked then.

But Huey had been stuck in his own thoughts. Him and Louie were similar like that; they got caught up in their own head way too often and far too easily. The difference this time was that while Huey had been working out the logistics of how Della had gotten home and the affects her extended stay on the moon would’ve had on her body, Louie had been thinking about how conflicted he was and how alone he felt in his uncertainty.

Louie didn’t do well with conflict, and he didn’t trust new people quickly. He was cautious, and careful, and he took things slowly. He hated being pushed into things blindly, and feeling like he didn’t have any choices scared him. Huey knew this, and he knew that Louie was sensitive, but that he would feel like he had to make an exception in his boundaries for his mom, and speed up his process and take it all in stride because that’s what family did.

And when he couldn’t seem to swing it, Louie would blame himself.

All the warning signs for an overwhelmed Louie had been there, and Huey had missed it. How could he call himself an older brother – and be proud of that fact – if he wasn’t even there when Louie needed it? If he didn’t even notice when something was wrong?

He’d been ready to talk to Louie about it right there in the dining room, after Uncle Scrooge had gone off looking for Della, but before he could bring it up and apologize for his obliviousness, a giant robotic monster awakened and burst out of their garage. Normal stuff, really, but incredibly inconvenient.

They’d all run outside, and Mrs. Beakley was knocked out, and Mom got up on top of the thing, and Huey and his brothers had pulled out their airhorns for lack of any better ideas. Then Louie had come up with a plan, and they’d executed it, and then Louie almost died. Huey had run over from the houseboat to stand next to Dewey, and he knew that he was too far away to make it to Louie in time to save him.

Huey grabbed onto Dewey’s arm in a tight grip, feeling the tension beneath his shaking hand as they watched the Gilded Man stumble and begin to fall.

Louie looked so small in front of it, his head tilted upwards as he stood frozen in place. Huey could just barely make out his wide eyes and terrified expression as the huge foot of the robot went hurtling towards him at an alarming speed. Huey couldn’t breathe; he felt like he was living in slow motion. Dewey was breathing rapidly and unevenly beside him, like maybe he was living life too quickly to process.

Della got there before the monster’s foot did, and she slammed into Louie at a high velocity, shoving him out of the way just in time for the foot to hit the ground. Huey’s heart gave a painful lurch as the ground below them shook violently, and he struggled to stay on his feet – for multiple reasons.

The Gilded Man fell to it’s knees, and then lifted a single large hand and aimed it right at his mom and little brother, as if it hadn’t caused enough damage already. The hand came down, and the robot shut down, and clouds of dust billowed in the air and obscured their vision.

There was no noise except the faint sound of his rapidly beating heart in his ears as he stared in horror at the scene before them, Dewey right next to him as silent as he’d ever been. The dust settled.

And there was Louie, sitting beneath the curled hand of the fallen robot, their mother kneeling in front of him, and he was alive; he was okay. Huey took a moment to analyze if his shaky legs would be able to carry him over there well enough, and upon concluding that they probably would, he ran as fast as possible towards the wreckage.

Louie and their mom crawled slowly out from beneath the hand, looking a little dirty and shaken but otherwise alright.

Huey held himself back from crashing into Louie at full speed, but only barely. He threw his arms around Louie’s shoulders as soon as he was close enough to do so, twisting his trembling hands into the back of his brother’s hoodie and closing his eyes tightly as he just took a moment to breathe. Dewey was there a half-second later, wrapping his arms around both of them and nuzzling his head against theirs happily. Huey heard Louie exhale quietly and relax, resting his head briefly on Huey’s shoulder before they all pulled away.

Della was looking at them fondly when he turned to look, a soft smile on her face and something vaguely nostalgic shining in her eyes. Dewey hugged her next, without hesitation, and Huey joined in soon after, sighing as the rest of the tension left his body.

It occurred to him that neither him nor Dewey had gone to hug Della first. They’d been worried, of course, they’d been terrified, but still they’d immediately gone to hug Louie. Huey couldn’t bring himself to regret it, and he wasn’t going to read too much into it, anyways. Della had been back for ten hours, but Louie had been his brother for ten years. Of course he was going to crush his little brother in a hug after almost losing him, and that didn’t mean that he didn’t care about losing Della, because he would honestly be devastated, but the feelings were just stronger and more intense when it came to Louie. And that was okay.

He and Dewey let go of their mom and backed up to stand next to Louie as Scrooge came over carrying Della’s detached leg, seemingly very happy and extremely proud of his niece. Della looked at each of them in turn, called them by their names, and promised that she’d try her best to figure out how to be a mom.

And for now, that was good enough.

[ssa-sugar-tits]

Ten Years (ch. 3)

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 4

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Content warnings: hospital, cursing, angst

a/n: i feel like this chapter's a little long, sorry!

Despite the multiple half-assed orders from Hotch and Rossi, the sincere begging from JJ and Penelope, and the concerned pushes from Emily and Derek, you refuse to leave the hospital until Spencer wakes up. You can't bring yourself to eat or sleep or even stop to breathe knowing something's so terribly wrong with him. For fuck's sake, all he did was hit his head. There is no plausible reason you can think of that he wouldn't have woken up yet. Drenched in your own exhausted tears and practically shaking with worry, there's a harrowing pit in your stomach. You've been waiting 42 hours and counting with no sign of improvement. He has a mild concussion and will need a few stitches where he bled but he "should be fine." They told you over and over again. And Hotch was forced to step in when you had enough of the empty bullshit in the atmosphere.

"If he's fine, why the hell hasn't he woken up? A mild concussion doesn't fucking do this to someone!" It's simple. The doctors don't know. They don't know how to help your husband. All they can do is spew false reassuring lies at you while they do absolutely nothing. More lengthy hours pass and an MRI is ordered. The same unsurprising thing: nothing's wrong with him. But what are they going to do? Send him away unconscious? No, they're just going to stand around pretending they know what they're fucking doing. You jump at the feeling of a cold hand tapping on your shoulder.

"Hey, it's just me." You look up to see Derek with a dreadfully morbid look on his face, one with tones of anger. "Mind if I sit with you?" Nowhere near able to speak, you try to give him an inviting smile but all you do is lift the corner of your quivering lips slightly. He gets the hint, which he probably would have missed had he not known you so well, and sits down beside you. Staring over at your husband, you hear Derek's head thump against the wall. The feelings you both have are of utter uselessness. Sure, there have been worse situations but... there's nothing either of you can do at all. There's no reasoning here. Well, to your knowledge. Spencer is the only one that knows what's going on. And it's ripping him apart. To not know what happened to his beloved mentor or remember any of the precious moments he's had with Y/N. He hasn't been able to watch the team he remains loyal to change and grow. He just woke up one day and was hurled into this shitty situation. He laughs out of despair at his own shortcomings and lack of comprehending what's been done to him. Y/N and Derek's heads both snap up at the unexpected sound, hopeful and desperate for a sign that Spencer's back. No such luck at first but Derek goes to get the nurse while you navigate your way to your husband's side.

"Love, it's me. I don't know if you can hear me. But whatever this is, whatever's stressed you out so much that you're... literally blocking out the entire fucking world... it'll be okay. I love you Spencer and I promise I always will. Please be okay for me." A disappointed sigh leaves you. Honestly, what did you expect? For him to wake up because you said you love him? This isn't a fucking fairytale Y/N. Derek returns with a nurse who confirms it must have been an unconscious movement so no hope there. Propping your head up with your arm, you try to get some rest for the first time since you arrived. After two more sickening hours pass, you're shaken awake by a nurse.

"Yeah?" you yawn before remembering where you are. Blinking rapidly, you open your eyes fully and look up at the nurse.

"Miss, your husband is awake." He directs a smile at you before exiting the room, leaving you to rush over to Spencer who's already sitting up and muttering to himself.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Tears threaten to fill your eyes when you place a hand on his shoulder and he turns away from your touch.

"I'm fine, th-thank you. Excuse me, doctor?" He waves over the doctor and asks her, "Can I leave now?" She looks a bit startled as if she didn't expect him to want to leave.

"Mr. Reid--"

"Doctor," you correct.

"Ahem, Doctor Reid, our tests have come back fine and healthy but to be frank... We aren't entirely sure why you were unconscious for so long. If you'd like to stay and rest, we'd welcome-- no we strongly suggest that's what you do." You open your mouth to say something but Spencer answers her.

"If I can go then I'd like to now, thanks." It's difficult to process when he's discharged and barely even greets his team that was worried sick. Asking you silently with their sweet glances if he's okay, you can't respond. All you manage to do is bite your lip and shrug before driving him home. Spencer doesn't say a word and the silence is deafening. Incomprehensible even because since when is he this fucking quiet?

"Spence?" You say, not taking your eyes off the road. "Don't you think we should talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"What do you fucking think? So much for genius." An exasperated sigh escapes you before you realize you're being harsh. "I'm sorry I don't mean to snap at you. I was just..."

"Stressed?" He offers, sounding awfully sad.

"Yeah. Stressed," you sigh once more. Your worry slips away for a moment and he presses a kiss to your cheek. His lips brush against your face and you swear he lingers as if wanting to say something but he goes back to staring out the window. Once in the apartment, you expect him to want to rest or at least, spend time with his wife who's been going fucking insane the past couple of days but he locks himself in his office. Giving up, you walk to the bedroom and leave him be.

Spencer speedily walks around the room collecting books, paper, a pen, and even a laptop. It's time to figure out what's going on. First, he reads about the BAU. He learns a lot about Emily Prentiss and how Elle and Gideon left the bureau. Another piece of information he finds is that David Rossi has been apart of the team for 8 years. Hotch's wife is dead and Jack-- the baby he met once briefly is now 10 years old, living alone with Hotch. Going through photo albums and keepsakes he discovers, he finds that his relationships really have grown over the years and so have yours. Who would've thought that the emotionless, serious Aaron Hotcher would walk his wife down the aisle? Agent Prentiss, he saw, was your maid of honor and Morgan was his best man. A small child held JJ's hand and with context, he came to the conclusion that she had a child now. And his eyes land on you. He traces a hand over the photo, cherishing a memory he doesn't have. You look perfect in that wedding dress. The viel falls on your head gracefully. Your smile radiates off the page and he can't help not feeling a sense of loss. You two are happy together and he doesn't remember a second of it. Ironic, isn't it? He thinks. Moving on to the why this is happening, he reads heaps of material for hours straight, faster than someone else would be able to, but still feels like he's getting nowhere. All he has to go off of is the date and theories he's found on forums and in old books. Suddenly its too much and he throws a book across the room, wincing at the sharp thud when it hits the wall. Spencer buries his frustrated face in his hands and lets out a long, deep breath. Y/N. Guilt washes over him as he realizes, this isn't any easier for you. You've spent the past 10 years forming a relationship with your Spencer and you woke up to a distant stranger. If he's going to figure this out, he needs to adjust. Adjust to being with you, the team, this new life of his. Just until he figures things out, right? Settling on going to lay with you-- his wife, he reminds himself-- he hears what sounds like muffled sobs. He opens the bathroom door cautiously and his heart drops to his feet at the sight in front of him. You're sitting in the bathtub, half-dressed crying quietly into your knees and running your hands through your hair. Spencer kneels down beside you and wraps him arms around you tightly. You gasp softly and almost pull away but accept the embrace.

"I'm so sorry," he says sincerely against your hair. Your words come out strung together and your tongue twists while you try to explain how you've been feeling this week.

"N-No I just... I'm just worried about you Spence I'm s-so," you bite down on your quivering lip harshly to avoid choking on a sob and continue. "Everything's different a-and it's like it changed overnight. I don't know what the hell I did to fuck things up. Whatever I did, I'm so sorry." You bury your head deeper into your knees, smearing mascara into streamed lines down your cheeks. The guilt he feels smashes his heart into pieces and throws it to his feet. He said he has to adjust, didn't he? He'll start with you. Spencer already loved you, the only different thing now is that you love him too. His voice softens and he whispers into your ear, stroking your hair and intertwining his fingers with locks of it.

"You've done nothing wrong sweetheart," he assures you, surprising himself with a nickname. "I'll call Hotch and we'll take tomorrow off, just the two of us. We'll go on a date like we used to a-and we can do whatever you'd like. Anything, Y/N just let me take care of you. The way you deserve."

When he's finished, your eyes meet his and you hesitate before nodding. No words leave your mouth but it's as if you don't need them to speak. He helps you up and you make your way to the bed you share.

Falling asleep quickly, you melt into dreams of spending time together and starting to get back to normal. Spencer, on the other hand, is overcome with an intimidating shit load of anxiety. This isn't, in a million years, how he thought his first fucking date with Y/N Y/L/N would be. Then again, this type of... situation never even crossed his wildest dreams. Make the best of it, right? Yeah that's it. He'll do his best.

For you.

[littlelovelyspiderling]

Mending

ever wondered what happens when you have too many ideas and want to do them all immediately so you cram them into one story even though it doesn’t make any sense?? this. this is what happens

What if Zuko was the one struck by Azula's attack in The Chase? And what if instead of fire, it was lightning? An exploration of what would have occurred between Zuko, Iroh, and the Gaang in that scenario. Hint -- the Gaang has a LOT of fun messing with him.

word count: 29,650

_____________________________________

It happened so fast. Unbelievably fast. 

One second, Azula was standing in front of them, trapped and outnumbered, raising her hands in defeat. They’d beaten her; they’d won. It should’ve been over. Then, with a single sweep of her arm, a bolt of lightning shot from her fingertips, zipping toward Iroh too quickly, too close range for him to react in time to redirect it. 

She had been aiming at him. It should’ve been him getting hit, him doubling over, him collapsing lifelessly to the ground. So why was his nephew suddenly flying in front of him? Why did the lightning strike him instead? How could he have predicted what was about to happen, let alone moved in time to take the blow? 

Why did the world dip into slow motion as the electricity coursed through his body? Flashing, cracking, sizzling—coiling like neon blue snakes? Why couldn’t he move as he watched Zuko fall? Why didn’t he reach out and catch him? Why did his screams sound distant even though he was right there, convulsing at his feet?  

Why did the stench of burning flesh have to smell so familiar?

“Zuko!”

The avatar and his gang threw everything they had at the princess. But in a flash of blue flame, heat and smoke exploded across the battlefield. When the air cleared, she was gone. Zuko lied where he’d fallen, motionless and silent. 

Iroh dropped to his knees. “No—Zuko—no.” A large hole was seared through the fabric on the upper left side of his chest. The skin that was visible was red and raw. His eyes were closed and his muscles were slack. He looked asleep—peaceful, even. 

It was too similar. Too real. His last day in Ba Sing Se roared back to the present with a ferocious vengeance. With trembling hands, Iroh cradled the boy’s head. 

“Nephew...can you hear me? Zuko…please...”

Once they’d determined the threat was gone, the group gazed upon the gut-wrenching scene, stunned. A cold knot formed in Aang’s belly. Zuko had been hurt—bad. Zuko was their enemy. They’d been fighting each other not even thirty seconds ago. But the old general he called his uncle had always seemed strangely neutral. He’d never actively fought against any of them. Back in the Northern Water Tribe, he’d helped them save the moon spirit—and in turn, the entire world. 

However evil Zuko was, Aang didn’t want him to die. The old man clearly cared about him. And the sound of his sobs…

He looked to Katara. The war raging in her soul gleamed in the whites of her eyes. She caught his gaze, grimacing bitterly, her hands balled into fists at her sides.

“Katara,” Toph said, the weight of the situation heavy in her voice. The others held their breath, glancing between Zuko and the waterbender. Slowly, the anger drained from her expression. 

She stepped toward the old man, extending her hand. “I—I can help,” she said. “I can heal him, if you’ll let me.”

“Katara!” Sokka protested. She ignored him. Iroh looked at her over his shoulder, eyes red and pleading. 

That was all the confirmation she needed. Katara rushed to Zuko’s other side, kneeling opposite of Iroh. She streamed a line of water from her pouch and cloaked it around her hands.

“What are you doing?” Sokka snapped. “He’s our enemy!”

“He’s hurt,” Katara retorted coldly. “He needs my help.”

“I d-don’t think he’s breathing,” Iroh stammered, clutching the teenager like he’d disintegrate if he let him go. “Is he—is his heart—I c-can’t tell if he’s—”

“He’s breathing,” Toph assured him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I can feel it. His heart’s beating, too.” She closed her eyes. “But...they’re both very weak.”

It tore her up, feeling Iroh shiver against the ground, hearing his voice quake with fear. She’d only spoken to him once, but in their short conversation, he’d proved himself to be a wise, kind person who would do anything for his troubled nephew. They couldn’t let him die, if only for Iroh’s sake.

Katara held her hands over the injury, the water following its path through his body. The damage was deep and gruesome. Streams of burnt flesh fanned out from the entry wound across the majority of his torso, snaked down his left leg, then re-concentrated at the bottom of his foot, where the lightning must have exited. 

“This is bad,” she admitted, her gaze shifting to Zuko’s face. He’d never looked so fragile to her before—so small. His weird bald ponytail look was gone; he’d chopped it off and let his hair start growing out. It was short, fuzzy, and—dare she say—cute, comparatively. It also aged him down, making him look less like a scary Fire Nation soldier and more like a teenager. 

“It’s going to take me awhile. We should find somewhere safe to move him.”

Iroh sniffled and wiped his eyes, holding Zuko’s head in his lap and running a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he said. “Yes, let’s—yes. Okay.”

It took him a minute to stand. He kept his palm cupped under Zuko’s head, never letting it touch the ground. Once he was on his feet, Katara and Aang helped lift his nephew into his arms. 

“Thank you,” the old man whimpered. “Thank you all s-so much...” Tears flowed freely from his eyes as he held Zuko close to his chest. Aang offered him a small smile. 

“Let’s head back toward the river,” Katara said, returning the water to her pouch. “Appa should be waiting for us there. We can set up camp in the surrounding forest.” 

As she walked past Sokka, he gave her a what is wrong with you look. She shot back with a glare of her own, which shut him up for the time being. 

That lasted about two minutes. As Katara led the way, Sokka jogged to catch up with her, keeping his voice low.

“You do realize how crazy this is, don’t you?”

Katara narrowed her eyes but didn’t respond.

“We’re helping Zuko. You know, royal Fire Nation psycho freak? Ozai’s devil spawn? The guy who's been chasing us around and terrorizing us since we first met Aang? The dude who wants nothing more than to kill us all and drag our friend back to the Fire Nation like a prized turkey pig?”

“You think I want to help him?” Katara snapped, holding her shoulders tight as she walked. “He’ll die if I don’t heal him. Are you saying we should just let him die?”

Sokka swallowed and stared at his feet. “I...no. I don’t know. I just...don’t see any version of this ending well.”

“I know it’s weird,” Aang concurred, glancing back at Iroh nervously. “But...we have to help him. It’s the right thing to do.”

“What if one of us got shot full of lightning?” Sokka retorted. “You think Prince Jerkbender would do anything to help us? Of course not. He would exploit the situation to try to capture Aang.”

“His uncle would help,” Toph said.

Aang smiled solemnly. “Exactly. Don’t think of it as helping Zuko. Think of it as helping Iroh not be sad.” He blinked, his eyes darkening. “He seems...really scared and shaken.”

“It boggles my mind that he cares about him so much. That old man’s kindness is completely wasted on a selfish moron like Zuko.” 

Iroh moaned suddenly, causing the group to freeze in place and turn around. The Fire Nation general was trailing far behind them, flushed and sweaty. His knees were wobbling under the burden of Zuko’s weight.

“I’m so sorry,” he grated out. “S’my old joints. Please...could someone…”

Slowly, all eyes swiveled to Sokka. It took him a moment to notice the sudden onslaught of attention. He glanced between his friends, spluttering.

“What?” he exclaimed. “Why me?”

Aang shrugged. “Out of all of us, you’re probably the strongest.”

“But I don’t want to carry the angry jerk!” he whined, stamping his feet.

Katara placed her hands on her hips. “You don’t want to, or you’re not strong enough to?” she retorted smugly. 

Sokka knew she was baiting him, but with a huff, he decided to bite. All of them were exhausted; Azula and her tank of dangerous ladies had made sure of that. The sooner they got to camp, the sooner they could rest. 

“Fine,” he grumbled. He marched back toward Iroh, griping sourly under his breath. “Here—gimme.”

Sokka knelt down and let Iroh drape Zuko over his back. Sokka wrapped his arms under his knees and hoisted his weight forward, bundling the unconscious prince into the world’s most unhappy piggyback ride. 

Once he was secure, Sokka rose upright and stomped after Katara, face gnarled with irritation. “Happy now?” he said. “If he wakes up and roasts me alive, I’m blaming you.”

“Please be careful with him,” Iroh said nervously, tailing Sokka with his hands out like he was going to drop his nephew at any moment.

Sokka rolled his eyes but held Zuko a little tighter. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmured.

Ten minutes later, they reached the river. Appa was snoring peacefully beneath a tree with Momo nestled in his fur. The sun poked above the horizon line, casting blood red beams across the water.

As Aang gathered their blankets and sleeping bags from Appa’s saddle, Katara yawned and pointed at an alcove between two evergreens. “Toph, could you make us an earth tent? One big enough for all of us to fit.”

Toph jabbed her fists out then up, forming a large, triangle-shaped structure. The gang staggered inside, blinking and rubbing their sleepy eyes, with Iroh close behind.

“Lay him down here,” Katara instructed. Aang spread their spare blanket across the ground while Sokka unraveled himself from the lifeless firebender. 

“You know, you’re a lot heavier than you look, your highness,” Sokka scoffed. “Might want to lay off the fire gummies. And your obsessive rage-fueled quest of evil against me and my friends.”

Iroh hurried to Sokka’s aid. The two of them worked together to gently guide Zuko to the ground. Aang tucked Sokka’s Water Tribe jacket under his head as a pillow. 

“But that’s…!” Sokka began, then sunk in defeat. “Oh, whatever.”

“He looks so still,” Iroh breathed. He petted Zuko’s hair and ran his thumb along his cheek, tears glistening in his eyes. “Oh, nephew. How could I let this happen…?”

Again?

Katara re-soaked her hands in water and sat on Zuko’s left. “I’ll help him as much as I can,” she said, expression steely. She stifled another yawn, then got to work. 

The moon was high in the sky by the time she was done. The wound was still bad, but edging away from life-threatening. Her friends had fallen asleep long ago; she and Iroh were the only one’s left awake. She would’ve kept going, but at this point, she could barely keep her eyes open.

“He’ll need a few more sessions to heal properly,” she said, streaming the water back into her pouch and rising to her feet, “and a lot of rest. I’ll start again in the morning.”

“Thank you, young lady,” Iroh said, bowing his head. “I owe you and your friends an insurmountable debt. I know how you all must feel about my nephew, but…” He swallowed, voice wavering. “He—he’s very important to me. I know he is capable of great good, he’s just...been through a lot.” 

Katara wasn’t sure how to respond. She didn’t want to entertain the possibility that Zuko was or ever could be an actual human being with feelings—not after all the pain and trouble he’d put them through. Regardless of how his uncle saw him, he was still their enemy: a Fire Nation scumbag determined to capture their friend and rid the world of its last emblem of hope. Healing him was a reflection of her own kindness, and a courtesy to Iroh; it had nothing to do with Zuko himself. Having the capacity for good wasn’t enough; he’d never acted on it, which rendered it meaningless.

Katara glared at the ground. “If he wakes up…” she began.

“He will be no trouble to you,” Iroh assured her. “You have my word.”

She trusted him, though she wasn’t sure why. He was just as much Fire Nation as Zuko, but his aura and levelness reminded her of her father. Someone inclined to protect the wellbeing of others, and who never broke their promises. Still, she wasn’t letting her guard down.

She eyed the large red splotch on Zuko’s chest. “Even if I can fully heal him, he’ll probably still be left with a scar.”

Iroh blanched, but kept his expression stony. “I see,” he said. His somber gaze shifted to his nephew’s face. “That is okay. He can handle it.” His fingers carded through Zuko’s hair, lingering around his left eye. “It won’t be his first time being scarred by a family member.”

Something cold coiled around Katara’s heart. Her eyes flickered toward the dark, leathery burn marring half of the prince’s face before quickly jerking away. Someone in his family did that to him? She’d never thought much about Zuko’s scar—just that it marked him as an individual, distinguished him as their enemy, and made him all the more scary-looking for it. She hadn’t really considered how he’d gotten it, or what significance that might carry. 

Her curiosity was officially piqued, but she knew better than to ask. She turned away indignantly. What does it matter, anyway? A bad home life doesn’t warrant a lifetime of evil. 

No amount of sob stories would ever make Zuko deserving of her sympathy.

“Goodnight,” she said, curling up beside her friends.

“Goodnight,” he replied. He scooted behind Zuko and lifted his head into his lap, periodically checking his pulse as he petted his hair. It didn’t look like he was planning to go to sleep anytime soon. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The world that Zuko woke to was bright and painful. A beam of sunlight was shining directly into his eyes, making him squint and blink. He tried to shift to escape the harsh glow, but he couldn’t seem to move.

Maybe it had something to do with the bone-deep agony radiating through his entire body.

It started underneath his left shoulder and pulsed out from there, feverish and nauseating. His foot surged with a similar ache, but to a less heated degree. Every feeble attempt to move made it a hundred times worse. Even breathing was excruciating. 

Ugh, he thought, gritting his teeth. His mind was hazy; his skull felt like it was full of stones. Wha…?

He blinked, and a blinding blue flash exploded behind his eyelids. He jolted as the memory returned, his hand flying to his shoulder.

Azula. Outnumbered. Defeated. But...she attacked. Uncle. Had to protect him. Jumped between them. Then…

A cataclysmic thrum of unimaginable pain. After that, everything had clapped to darkness.

Grimacing, Zuko slid one hand underneath his body and pushed against the ground. The effort left him dizzy and gasping, but he managed to lift himself off the floor and into a sitting position, his bare back resting against the stone wall behind him. He sat that way for a while, panting and moaning, gripping his chest where the pain throbbed like a second heartbeat. 

Azula had done this to him. Figured. Had she captured the avatar and dragged him home to Father while he was out, taking away his only chance of ever redeeming his honor? 

He looked down at his shoulder, lifting his hand away from the skin. A large, red scar lied underneath, blistered and swollen and still relatively fresh. The splotchy, scarlet circle was the only visible evidence left by Azula’s attack, although he could feel its harrowing effect in every muscle of his body. It looked slightly different than the mark on his face—felt different, too. But not different enough. 

Another burn. Another scar. At least this one he could hide.

But man, did it hurt.

He tore his gaze away from the wound and scanned his surroundings, blinking the sleepy sheen from his eyes. He was in some kind of tall, tent-like structure made of earth. The ground around him was littered with blankets, bags, and other miscellaneous items. Not Uncle’s belongings, he realized. Zuko’s throat tightened. 

He’d have to worry about dealing with Azula later. For now…

Where in the world am I?

Voices reached his ears, making him perk up in alarm. Someone calling from afar, followed by a cheerful laugh.

“Hold on—let me grab my staff!”

Footsteps approached, quick but light. A few moments later, a figure jogged into the tent, silhouetted by sunshine. Zuko squinted against the harsh brightness, his eyes still bleary with exhaustion. 

The individual moved out of the doorway to rummage through a bag on the floor. Only when he stood upright, glider in hand, backlit by the sun but no longer blown out, did his bald head, blue tattoos, and chipper smile become distinguishable.

No way.

“Found it!” the avatar cried. Then his gaze fell upon the injured firebender, who was now sitting upright and visibly conscious, and his eyes bugged out of his skull.

“Ah!” he gasped, flinching back and dropping his staff. Before Zuko had time to react, let alone process what was going on, Aang darted out of the tent, shouting: “He’s awake! Guys! Zuko’s awake!”

Zuko blinked. And suddenly, four people were looming over him, their outlines and features fuzzy-looking. Time seemed to be flying by at double the speed while he was trapped in slow motion. His brain felt like a mushy bowl of jook. Fortunately, he managed to identify the individuals surrounding him.

Unfortunately, they were the last four people he wanted to see right now. 

“What the—?” he exclaimed, panic blooming in his chest. He tried to sit up a little straighter, but the movement made his chest flare with pain. He clutched it with a groan, slumping limply against the wall. 

“Don’t move,” the small earthbending girl said. “You’re hurt really bad.”

Zuko forced his eyes open, leering between the avatar and his gang, sweating bullets and shivering all over. Why was he shivering so much? Why couldn’t he make it stop? He didn’t just feel hurt; he felt sick. The wound was hot and sticky against his palm.

“W-what are you doing here?” he growled. 

“Saving you, that’s what,” Aang retorted. The Water Tribe boy—Sokka, if his memory served—stood beside him, holding his boomerang at the ready. 

“Azula attacked you,” he explained. “She shot you full of lightning. You’d be dead if Katara hadn’t helped you.”

Zuko’s stomach turned icy. His eyes wandered to the waterbender, who frowned at him with her hand hovering over her pouch. All of them looked ready to kill him the second he made the wrong move. 

Meanwhile, he felt ready to puke. 

Why would they save me? That meant they needed him for something. Information? Intel on the Fire Nation? A ransom hostage? Fat chance he’d be helpful on any of those accounts. They could turn him over to his father, maybe—he was a fugitive of the Fire Nation. Then again, so were they. 

Or they were lying about saving him. Maybe they’d kidnapped him after Azula’s attack just so they got to watch him suffer a slow, grisly death. Maybe this was building toward some elaborate form of payback for all the times he’d tried to capture the avatar. His injury wasn’t even bandaged—no medicine in sight, either. What exactly had they done to help him?

“I’ll go get Iroh,” Aang said, jogging out of the tent. Zuko’s fear-fueled fantasies veered into confusion.

What? Uncle’s here? Why? Was he hurt, too? Had the avatar and his friends captured them both? What was going on? 

“His fever’s gotten worse,” the earthbender said. It took Zuko a second to realize she was talking about him, and a second longer to realize she had somehow come to this conclusion without even touching him. It made no sense. None of this did. It felt like he was trapped inside some crazy, lucid nightmare.

Katara studied him for a while, her eyes dark and searching. Then she sighed, coating her hands in water. She walked toward him suddenly, making Zuko tense.

“Stay back!” he shouted, gritting his teeth to keep them from chattering. He kept one palm glued to his wound while the other stayed flat against the ground to prevent him from toppling over.

To his disbelief, the waterbender ignored him, sitting by his side with a level expression. Katara stared at Zuko coldly. She’d never realized how golden his irises were. She’d never been this close to see—not while he was awake. When they caught the sunlight, they glinted and shimmered in an almost supernatural way. The eyes of a hunter. 

Zuko glared back with his usual scowl. Brows furrowed, teeth bared. He’d always reminded her of a predator. Something wild and ferocious that prowled after the innocent. But today, something was different. Today, Zuko was the prey: trembling, injured, trapped, and scared. His typically scalding gaze was clouded with fear.

Katara held up her hands as she stared him down. The water encasing them glowed a soft blue. “I’m going to help lower your fever,” she stated. “Either you sit still and let me do it, or Toph pins you down and makes you stay still.”

“And if you try firebending, Boomerang is coming for your head,” Sokka added. 

Zuko’s skin bristled with goosebumps as chills shuddered up his spine. After the Agni Kai against his father, he recalled contracting an intense fever in response to the terrible burn. It hadn’t lasted long, but it wasn’t pleasant. Uncle had worked diligently to bring it down and comfort him while the physicians tended to his scorched face. It wasn’t a time he liked to remember, but he wondered if that’s what was happening now—if Azula’s burn was afflicting him just like Father’s had. 

“I don’t w-want your help,” Zuko hissed. He had no idea what she was planning to do to him, and he wasn’t interested in finding out. Whatever the end goal to all of this was, their intentions were clearly hostile.

Katara shared a look with her brother, then wrinkled her brow. Wordlessly, she reached forward, placing her palm against Zuko’s forehead. 

“Hey! What’re you—?” He squirmed away and made a grab for her wrist, but she caught his first, pinning his arm against the wall without moving the hand on his head. He didn’t realize how weak he was until he tried and failed to wriggle free of her hold. The effort it took just to try left him woozy. 

“Just—wait,” she instructed sharply. “It’ll make you feel better. I promise.”

He considered frying her hand to force her to release him, but Sokka was right there, and he knew how much that boomerang could hurt—even with a helmet on. Plus, he was tired, lightheaded, and now that she mentioned it…

He stopped fighting for a moment, panting. The watery glove around her hand felt like it was seeping through his skull and into his brain, sucking all the heat and pain with it. The pulsing ache in his head eased to a small hum. His feverish chills eased away. Slowly, his muscles relaxed. He blinked, stunned by the sudden and extraordinary relief. 

Once she realized he wasn’t trying to escape anymore, she let go of his wrist and pressed both palms to his temples. The assuage increased even more, making Zuko release a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. 

“This should bring your fever down temporarily,” she said. This was not normal waterbending; he knew that much. It was cool, tingly, soothing, almost spiritual in nature. When she took her hands away, he was left feeling exponentially better, though the wound on his shoulder continued to throb. Zuko met her gaze for an instant, pressing a finger to his brow. 

“What...what’d you just do?” he asked. Katara stood and stepped back, her expression sour.

“Reduced your pain, even if you deserve every bit of it.” 

Anger resurfaced in the prince’s chest. Even though he was still reeling with relief, his eyes cut daggers through hers.

“Then why do it?” he remarked. He gripped his injury tighter. “Why am I here? What do you want from me?”

“I’ll see if Iroh has any herbal remedies he could give you for a more permanent solution,” Katara continued, ignoring his abrasive inquiry. “But you’ll need plenty of rest to recover completely.”

“Answer my questions!” Zuko yelled, making Sokka and Toph wince. “Why are you keeping me here? What are you planning?”

The shouting roused his wound, making him fall back against the wall with a strained whimper. At that moment, the avatar skipped back into the tent with Iroh on his tail. Zuko glanced up along with the others. As soon as Uncle’s eyes found his, the old man melted. 

“See? He’s awake! Told you he’d be all right!”

Iroh didn’t wait for him to finish. He rushed toward his nephew, tripping over sleeping bags and pushing past Sokka with his arms outstretched. “Zuko!” he cried.

“Uncle?” the young prince answered, looking puzzled. He yelped in surprise when Iroh practically tackled him, wrapping him into the biggest platypus bear hug any of them had ever seen.

“Oh, my beautiful nephew!” Iroh blubbered, squeezing the air from his lungs. “I’m so happy you’re all right!”

Zuko squirmed uncomfortably, inexperienced in dealing with such blatant physical affection. “Uncle! What’re you—ouch! Quit it! You’re—crushing me!”

A few giggles slipped from Aang and Toph’s lips. It was an amusing scene—watching the grumpy Fire Nation prince get smothered by his overbearing uncle. Even the Water Tribe siblings hinted smug grins. Aang swore he saw a touch of pink flush across the firebender’s cheeks. 

Despite his nephew’s wriggly protests, Iroh clung on to him a little while longer, one hand wrapped around Zuko’s torso while the other cradled the back of his head. Zuko eventually gave up trying to escape and just sat there awkwardly, squished and pouting as he waited for his uncle to get his fill. The gang was relieved to see Iroh happy after so many hours of anxiety. 

Once he finally released Zuko from his hold, Iroh’s attention honed in on his nephew’s wound, his hands hovering around the bright red scar. “How bad does it hurt? Are you in terrible pain?”

More like excruciating, Zuko thought. His muscles felt like burnt noodles, his bones like over-roasted komodo chicken legs. But he didn’t need to tell Iroh that—he was already an erratic pyre of stress as it was. He rolled his eyes and shrugged, trying to evoke nonchalance, realizing his mistake too late. A stabbing ache tore through his shoulder and shot down his arm, making him to wince sharply and hiss through his teeth. He grabbed his chest, groaning wearily.

“Stay still, Prince Zuko,” Iroh said, laying the back of his hand against his cheek. “Your body is very weak, and you’re still warmer than usual. I’ll brew you some ginger root tea to reduce the fever.”

Zuko scrunched up his brow and knocked his hand away. “Stop fussing, Uncle,” he grumbled bitterly. “M’fine.”

“Fine?” Iroh repeated. A beat passed where the old man just stared at him, jaw tight, his lower lip trembling. Then, out of nowhere, Uncle seized Zuko by his uninjured shoulder, his eyes flashing with an uncharacteristic rage. “Are you insane? You call this ‘fine?’ What on earth were you thinking?”

Zuko blinked, looking just as surprised as everyone else in the room. He was still recovering from Iroh’s crushing embrace, followed by the sudden burst of pain. Now he was yelling at him? 

“What?” Zuko said, startled.

“Why would you throw yourself in between me and Azula like that?” he shouted. “That lightning should have hit me, not you!”

It wasn’t like Uncle to shout. Uncle only shouted when it was for a very specific and important purpose. He wasn’t like the Fire Lord—or Zuko, for that matter. 

“You’d rather I just sat there and let you take the hit?” Zuko scoffed in disbelief. “Azula was trying to kill you!”

“And she very nearly killed you!” Iroh retorted, making Zuko shrink back a little. “If it wasn’t for the kindness of these children, you’d be dead right now! First in the North Pole, and again today!”

Zuko grimaced and turned away, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “I never asked for their help.”

Iroh gave him a quick shake, making the young prince tense. “You shouldn’t even be needing it! You have to stop putting yourself in danger like this!”

Zuko didn’t understand why he was so angry with him. He huffed toward the ground. “This is exactly why I didn’t want us traveling together anymore. You worry too much.”

“Because you don’t worry enough!” Iroh roared. “You seem perfectly fine with throwing your life away over nothing!”

“I was trying to protect you, Uncle!” Zuko exclaimed, shoving his hand off his shoulder. “Is your life nothing?”

“Yes!” Iroh snarled. He cupped his nephew’s face in his hands, his eyes like fire. “Compared to yours, yes! My life is nothing, Prince Zuko.”

Zuko’s scowl fell, replaced by a look of sickly confusion. The tent plunged into sudden silence. Aang and his friends felt like they were intruding on a very private moment, but now they were too intrigued not to see how this ended.

“Why...would you say that?” Zuko asked uneasily. He pulled Iroh’s hands away from his face. “That’s not—”

“I’ve lived my life, nephew,” Uncle insisted. “If I died today, I’d die a happy, fulfilled old man. But you are just a boy, my prince, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not. You have so much life left to live. If you died…”

Uncle shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, bowing low to ground, as if the thought physically hurt him. Zuko didn’t know what to say. Tears started slipping down Iroh’s cheeks and dripping into the grass.

“Uncle…” Zuko began softly. A moment later, his eyes lurched up to the four others occupying the room and grew wide, as if he’d forgotten they were there. He leered at them with a mixture of loathing and embarrassment, feeling strange and exposed by their prying gazes, until Uncle listed forward, burying his face into his chest. 

“Don’t m-make me endure it again, Zuko,” Iroh wept, hugging the prince with all the love and pain in the universe. “Don’t make me watch another son die...”

Guilt and sorrow surged into Zuko’s throat. He knew Iroh cared for him—knew he liked to pretend that he was his own now that Lu Ten was gone. But to this day, he didn’t understand why. Zuko had done nothing to earn Iroh’s love; he actively pushed him away and treated him like garbage just to prove it, testing how much it would take to get it to break. But no matter what he tried, Iroh’s love persisted: unbending and unconditional. It was perplexing, illogical, infuriating—and wonderful.

Uncle’s love wasn’t like Ozai’s. Uncle’s love wasn’t something he had to beg and fight and compete for. It was just...there. Always. And he had no idea how to deal with it.

As Iroh cried into his shoulder, Zuko placed an awkward hand on his arm in attempt to calm him, wincing at the anguish in his sobs. “I wasn’t—I didn’t—” he stammered, grappling for the words to make him stop.

“It would’ve killed me, Zuko,” Iroh wept, holding him close. “If you d-died saving me, I would have died anyway. I couldn’t bear it. Not again…”

Zuko watched his Uncle sniffle and shake, a lump forming in his throat. He didn’t understand it. He doubted he ever would. He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. He cursed the wobble that snuck into his voice. 

“I think we should go,” Toph whispered, jerking her thumb toward the exit. The group nodded in agreement. None of them had ever seen Zuko so vulnerable before—physically, emotionally, or otherwise. He obviously reciprocated Iroh’s love, even if he wasn’t as good at expressing it as him. It was obnoxiously heartwarming.

“No,” Iroh said, sitting up suddenly, running the heels of his hands under his puffy eyes. “No, please stay.” He turned to Zuko, placing a palm against his back. “My nephew has something he’d like to say to you.”

Zuko’s soft expression twisted into a look of disgust. “What?”

“These people saved your life on two different occasions, Prince Zuko—despite all the trouble we’ve caused them. The least you can do is thank them for their generosity.”

The firebender’s golden gaze bore ferociously into his uncle’s, then swept across the four kids standing around them. His signature scowl returned with a vengeance. 

“There’s a reason besides generosity that they did it,” Zuko hissed, flinching and grabbing his wounded shoulder. “I just haven’t figured out what it is yet.”

Katara placed her hands on her hips. “We did it because we’re not monsters,” she shot back. “And because your uncle cares about you. Why, I have no idea—but we didn’t want him to lose his nephew.”

Zuko lunged toward her with a growl, but Iroh held him back, which did not take much effort. 

“Enough, Zuko,” he scolded him. “The reason they helped you does not matter. The fact is, they helped you. And that alone warrants your gratitude.”

The injured prince glowered at them, gritting his teeth. Iroh was kidding himself if he thought he was going to get a ‘thank you’ to cross his insufferable nephew’s lips.

“Trust me, Prince Zuko—it is far more honorable to thank your rival for sparing your life than to hold your tongue out of senseless pride.” He placed a hand on his head and ruffled his hair. “Go on.”

Zuko ducked out of his reach and scratched his scalp irritably. The group waited for him to blow up, to spit fire and fury and tell all of them to go jump in the river. His glare alone could sear clean through stone.

But to everyone’s disbelief, the flames in his eyes were gradually superseded by something else. A lifetime of exhaustion, misery, and defeat. His golden irises suddenly looked dull; his expression grew heavy with sadness. He grimaced at the wall, still trembling a little from his fever.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he spat, squeezing his eyes shut. “But...thank you.”

A moment later, Zuko did a quick motion, placing the heel of his left palm on top of his right fist and dipping his head toward the ground. If someone blinked, they would’ve missed it—but the gang recognized the rapid gesture as a Fire Nation bow, done as a sign of respect and humility. It was fast and awkward, but it was genuine. Then Zuko turned his back to them, frowning at the corner of the tent, hunching his shoulders and kneading his wound with his thumb.

Katara, Sokka, and Toph walked outside, but Aang stayed behind, smiling wide. Even though he wasn’t looking, Aang repeated the movement back to Zuko. Iroh beamed at him delightedly, then patted his nephew’s arm.

“Get some rest, Prince Zuko. I’ll be back soon with the tea and some soup.”

Zuko didn’t acknowledge him as he got up and left with the others. He just stared at the wall, feeling small, broken, and weak. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

While Iroh prepared the meal, the avatar and his crew sat around the fire in a misshapen semi-circle, each occupied with their own projects. Aang polished his staff, Sokka sharpened his boomerang, Katara sewed a tear in her dress, and Toph played with Momo, making little pegs of earth pop up from the ground for him to chase. 

The silence was suffocating. 

Sokka kept shooting looks at his friends, as if to say is no one going to acknowledge how strange this is? They had two Fire Nation royalty with them, one of which was making them dinner, while the other (who had tried to kill them on many, many occasions) was sleeping hardly twenty feet away. When he couldn’t bear it any longer, he cleared his throat, painting an awkward grin on his face. 

“So...uh...Iroh. General Iroh? Or—Prince Iroh? Or—?”

The old man chuckled. “Just Iroh is fine.” He swirled a ladle through the steaming broth. The aroma was thick and spicy. “Would anyone care for some ginseng soup?”

Everyone raised their hand, bringing a smile to his face. He filled four bowls to the brim and handed one to each of the kids. Once the group had been served, Iroh sat among them, sipping his own meal while monitoring the tea.

“Wow, this is great!” Sokka said, slurping noisily. He wiped his mouth and eyed the old man with a frown. “Not to be rude or anything, but...you seem like a pretty okay guy. Why do you waste your time trying to help your evil nephew?”

“Sokka!” Katara rebuked him, making him wince.

“What? It’s a valid question! He’s so polite and nice, even if he is Fire Nation. Zuko, on the other hand...”

Iroh rested his bowl in his lap, watching the soup wobble and glint in the sunlight. He sighed softly. “I know you all dislike my nephew. And after everything he’s done, you have every right to. He is a conflicted person who has made many mistakes.” He lifted his gaze. “But I’ve known Zuko since the day he was born, and I know the goodness that lies within him.”

Katara huffed dubiously, sipping her dinner in short bouts. Sokka frowned behind his soup mustache. Meanwhile, Aang and Toph listened curiously, spooning heaps of broth into their bellies. Momo leaned over Aang’s shoulder and lapped up a few mouthfuls from his bowl. 

“I was on a path not dissimilar from his for most of my life. Obsessed with honor and power, as well as my place in the Fire Nation. It took immense pain and suffering for me to realize the error of my ways and to start on a new journey. One focused on restoring balance to the world and protecting peace.”

His words struck Katara like an arrow through the heart. “Your son?” she said hesitantly, remembering his words from before. Iroh closed his eyes and nodded his head. 

“Yes. Lu Ten.”

“But how is helping Zuko capture Aang protecting peace?” Sokka asked bluntly. “You’d be destroying it.”

Iroh chuckled. “I haven’t exactly been helpful in my nephew’s pursuit of the avatar. That has never been my goal. I travel with him because I’m all he has left.” He lowered his gaze. “Now that he and I have been declared fugitives of the Fire Nation, I suppose he’s all I have, too.”

Aang gawked. “Fugitives? You mean the Fire Nation considers Zuko a criminal?”

He recalled that it had been Zuko who busted him out of the Fire Nation prison Zhao had locked him up in. Zuko, wielding dual swords and wearing a blue mask, had helped him escape. To this day, he never understood why he’d risked his life to free him. Was it really all because he wanted to capture the avatar himself? 

Had the Fire Nation found out what he did that night, and branded him a traitor? 

“Zuko was banished from the Fire Nation when he was thirteen, and has been living in exile ever since. But only recently has the Fire Lord labeled him fugitive.” Iroh stroked his beard. “Why, I’m not entirely sure—though I have my suspicions.”

Katara and Sokka exchanged a startled glance. Zuko was banished from his own country? At thirteen?

“Why was he banished in the first place?” Toph asked, voicing the question in everyone’s mind.

Iroh finished off his soup and placed his bowl to the side, his eyes dark. He knew Zuko wouldn’t approve of him sharing his life story with his so-called enemies. But perhaps if they knew how he ended up in the place he was today, they could begin to understand the why, and maybe even aid him on his journey to see the light. Iroh heaved a lofty sigh.

“It is my fault, I am afraid. I let him attend a war meeting even though I knew the risks. It is one of my greatest regrets.” He bowed his head. “The Fire Nation is very strict about knowing one’s place and staying quiet in certain social situations. When I granted him permission to join us, I warned him not to speak. But when one of the generals suggested we use a group of new recruits as bait for our next attack against the Earth Kingdom, that we send a bunch of kids into what would very likely wind up a suicide mission—Zuko denounced him in front of the highest ranking war authorities in the Fire Nation.”

His nephew’s words echoed hollowly in his skull. You can’t sacrifice an entire battalion like that! Those soldiers love and defend our nation. How could you betray them?

The four friends stared at him in tense silence. Iroh poured himself a cup of tea as the fire cracked and fizzled. 

“Zuko was right, of course. But his actions were considered extraordinarily disrespectful. He was forced to fight an Agni Kai—a fire duel—in front of the entire royal court. He thought it would be against the elderly general he’d interrupted. Instead, when he turned around, he found himself standing face-to-face with Ozai, his father.”

The icy claw from before seized Katara’s heart with a newfound frigidness. She had a feeling she already knew where this was leading, but the thought still chilled her to her core. 

“His dad...wanted to fight him?” Sokka inquired. “Or he was forced to?” 

“Ozai is the Fire Lord—the supreme leader of the country. He could have easily pardoned Zuko and moved on. My brother chose to fight his own thirteen-year-old son willingly and zealously.” Iroh grimaced. “Ozai has detested Zuko since he was a child, always favoring his sister Azula above him. He’s been searching for a way to revoke Zuko’s birthright to the throne since Azula began to overshadow him in firebending prowess. Speaking out in a war meeting granted him the perfect excuse to do just that.”

The air was still. Toph suddenly felt guilty for once believing her parents were the worst the universe could bestow. Momo trilled and pawed at Aang’s ear. The avatar leaned toward Iroh anxiously. 

“What happened next?”

The old man sipped his steaming cup, his expression sad and distant. “I thought by this point, the whole world knew what happened that day. Fire Nation parents tell the story to their children to scare them into obedience and allegiance to their country.” 

None of the kids spoke up. They just stared at him, wide-eyed. So Iroh continued. 

“Zuko threw himself to the ground, begging for his father’s forgiveness. Ozai commanded him to fight, but he refused to attack his own father.” 

The cup was suddenly trembling in his hands. His knuckles were stiff and white. “I...I should have stopped him. I should have protected Zuko. He was just a child, you know? And he was so afraid...”

Iroh gazed at the grass between his feet. Tiny flowers shuddered and danced in the breeze. 

“Ozai...did not show him mercy,” he said, voice ominous. “After the duel, Zuko’s refusal to fight was pronounced weak and disgraceful—behaviors unfit for a prince of the Fire Nation. And so, the Fire Lord banished him. He was tasked with capturing the avatar,” he noted grimly, turning to Aang. “A purposely impossible mission at the time, since you had been missing for over a hundred years with no sign of returning. It was meant to keep Zuko from ever coming back to the Fire Nation. But Ozai claimed that if Zuko found you and brought you to him, he would restore his son’s honor and welcome him home with open arms.” He looked away, face solemn. “And that is what he’s been trying to do ever since.”

Appa grunted from his shady spot by the river. The air between the four friends suddenly felt cold. It was a lot to process. It explained a few of the things many of them had always been confused about when it came to Zuko, but gave rise to multiple entirely new questions they’d never even thought to consider. Katara lifted her hand toward her left eye.

“Is that…” she began reluctantly. “You said a family member gave that to him—the scar on his face.”

Iroh blinked slowly, miserably. “Yes,” he replied. “His father did that to him. He burned his own son while he lay prostrate before him, pleading for mercy.” His eyebrows furrowed together. “Out of all the horrors I’ve witnessed throughout this war, watching my brother scar and banish that boy is among the cruelest. I doubt the memory will ever leave my mind.”

Shocked silence gripped the group. So that was where Zuko’s scar had come from. Not a training misfire, not some careless childhood mistake—but an intentional brand from his father to mark him as an unwanted outsider. A couple more seconds passed before Sokka scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. 

“This is insane! If Ozai really did do all these terrible things to him, then why is he so obsessed with capturing Aang and returning home? If I was Zuko, I’d be relieved to be banished and away from that psycho. The guy’s a total monster!”

Iroh released a slow breath. “It is hard to understand my nephew’s logic from the outside. But please, try to put yourself in his position. He was cast out—renounced and rebuked by his home and his people, those he had been taught to depend on. His own father disowned him. One tiny mistake cost him everything: the crown, his honor, and his family. Now, exiled from his country, where else can he hope to go? The entire world despises the Fire Nation for the atrocities they have committed. As the banished son of the Fire Lord, no nation is safe for Zuko. He believes his only choice is to bring his father the avatar. That only he can restore everything he lost. That if he can complete the mission Ozai bestowed upon him, their relationship will somehow be different. He thinks he is capable of winning the Fire Lord’s love by delivering you to him. It gives him hope.” 

The old man withered. “I don’t have the heart to tell him the truth, to take that hope away. Even if I did, it wouldn’t change his mind. He would continue this poisonous path without me, searching and fighting until he destroyed himself. I’m doing what I can to support him until he discovers the truth on his own.”

Iroh’s anecdote hung over their heads like storm clouds. Katara narrowed her eyes in thought, drumming her fingers against her bowl. 

“What if he never comes to that conclusion?” she said coldly. “How many more people does he have to hurt or villages does he have to burn down for you to decide he isn’t worth it?”

Iroh met her gaze, his jaw tight. She thought he was going to snarl or shout, like he had in the tent with Zuko. Instead, he relaxed into a smile. 

“He will change. I know it. I’ve seen what he’s capable of. He was such a sweet and happy child before my brother got ahold of him and twisted him up.” He grinned at Aang. “He was a lot like you, actually. Bright and joyful and kind. I wish you all could have seen him then. Perhaps you’d understand why I haven’t given up on him yet.”

“Really?” Aang said, beaming. “Wow. I’m having a hard time imagining that.”

The old man chuckled, then stared across the circle of young faces. “I’m not asking any of you to forgive my nephew for what he’s done. I’m not asking you to make excuses for him or to pity him. I just wanted to grant you some insight into the person he is, and why he acts the way he does today. You’ve already been more kind to him than I ever could have anticipated, which shows what honorable individuals you are. I am forever grateful to each of you.” His expression softened. “Zuko is too, even if he doesn’t seem it. Because of the way he was raised, he can’t comprehend the idea that others would show him compassion without it being earned, or without some sinister ulterior motive in mind. Your kindness is entirely foreign to him, so don’t take his aversion to it personally.”

This was exactly what Katara had been afraid of. That if they learned more about Zuko’s past, they’d start to realize he wasn’t the sick, totally irredeemable person they believed him to be. She wanted to hate him—wanted to see him as nothing but an obstacle in their path, a soulless enemy to defeat. But it was hard to do after hearing his life’s story. 

“If only Zuko had been surrounded by people like you growing up,” Iroh continued wistfully. “You all have such good hearts.”

Sokka swirled his boomerang in the air. “Yeah—too bad we all couldn’t live it up in the Fire Nation palace together, celebrating global tyranny and singing kumbaya around the fire.”  

Iroh hinted a somber smile, then rose to his feet. “I’m going to see if I can get my nephew to eat something,” he said, ladling another helping of soup into his bowl and pouring a second cup of tea. “Have a delightful afternoon, all of you.”

With that, he strolled back into the earth tent, humming a quiet tune to himself. The group was left to wallow in the tsunami of information they now knew about their arch nemesis. 

Eventually, Sokka huffed. “Well, if there’s anything we’ve learned from this bizarre little misadventure, it’s that the Fire Lord is literally the worst in every way imaginable, and deserves everything he’s got coming his way.”

“No kidding,” Toph agreed, cracking her toes.

Aang pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but...I kinda feel bad for Zuko.”

“Don’t,” Katara snapped, scowling at the fire. “We’ve all had hard lives. We’ve all been hurt and lost things we cared about. You don’t see any of us attacking towns or terrorizing innocent people.”

“But we were raised by good people,” Aang pointed out. “Even when we disagreed with them or fought with them, we never doubted that they loved us.” He rested his chin on his knees. “Zuko didn’t have that. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of change.”

“A lot of people are capable of a lot of things,” Katara retorted. “That doesn’t mean they’re ever going to do the right thing and actually commit to being better.”

Aang blinked at her, then gazed into the flickering flames. “Not if you don’t give them the chance...”

He considered telling them the truth about that day in the Earth Kingdom. When Zuko had broken him out of Zhao’s prison, saving his life—and, unknowingly, Sokka and Katara’s. If Aang hadn’t escaped and gotten those frogs to them, they could have died. The only reason the three of them were sitting together today, alive and well, was because of Zuko’s help.

But before Aang had the chance to speak, Katara scoffed and stood, marching toward the river.

“Katara?” he called. “Where are you going?”

“Swimming,” she answered without looking back. “After today, I seriously need a bath.”

He watched her stomp away, then exhaled defeatedly. Maybe he was being naive. Maybe Zuko wouldn’t change. But while the Fire Nation prince was stuck here with them, he’d try his best to be patient and kind to him—perhaps to the point where it no longer felt so foreign.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Iroh went back into the woods to forage for more tea leaves and herbs before the sun went down, leaving Zuko alone in the stone tent. While the others were off busying themselves around their campsite, Aang crept into the dark structure. He intended to pop in for only a moment to grab some nuts from his bag, but froze in the doorway at the sight he stumbled upon. 

Zuko was facing the back wall of the tent, sitting with his legs crossed and his spine straight. Four small candles were arranged in front of him, their flames rising and falling in sync with Zuko’s steady breathing. Aang immediately recognized the familiar scene.

“You’re meditating!” he exclaimed. Zuko flinched in surprise, the candlelight flaring and rippling, casting wild shadows across the walls. He turned on him lividly.

“Don’t scare me like that!” he shouted. “I almost torched you alive!”

“Sorry!” Aang said, grinning shyly as he stepped closer. “But you are meditating, right?”

Zuko huffed and turned back toward the wall, rubbing his wounded shoulder. “I’m trying to,” he said pointedly, re-assuming his sturdy position.

“That’s awesome!” Aang said, bounding to stand by his side. “I never would’ve pegged you as someone who meditates.”

Aang thought he remembered Zuko mentioning meditation back in the South Pole, but it seemed so out of character for him. He never expected to actually witness the hotheaded prince putting it into practice.

Zuko looked uncomfortable and irritated by Aang’s presence. He tried to ignore him, but the avatar wasn’t making it easy. The twelve-year-old stood over him, smiling from ear to ear.

“I meditate too. Every day, in fact! Meditation is a sacred tradition among Air Nomads. The monks always said it’s a great way to strengthen one’s discipline, inner peace, and spirituality.”

The flames danced and flickered, mirroring Zuko’s aggravation. “Then you should know how important it is to be quiet when someone’s trying to concentrate!” He jabbed his finger toward the exit. “Get out of here!”

Aang was beginning to realize that Zuko yelled a lot, but there wasn’t any real bite behind it. At least, not in his current condition. So for now, he wasn’t going to let it faze him. 

Ignoring Zuko’s demands, he plopped down beside him, making the royal teenager start. “Can I meditate with you?”

Zuko blinked, looking appalled. “What?” he gawked. “No!”

“Why not?” Aang asked, settling into his own meditation position with his fists pressed together and his eyes closed. 

“Because—because you’re going to distract me!” he cried. “There’s a million other places for you to do it besides here! Why don’t you go meditate with one of your obnoxious friends?”

“None of them practice meditation,” he explained simply. “Back at the Western Air Temple, me and the other monks used to meditate in a group, all of us sitting and breathing together in perfect harmony. I haven’t meditated with someone else for over a hundred years.” He opened one eye and hinted a sad smile. “I miss it a lot. I think it’d be nice.”

Zuko scowled at him, but it seemed more thoughtful than angry. Scowling also appeared to be a thing he did by default, not as an intentional expression of aggression. He could see him searching for a motive, a scheme, some kind of backhanded revenge plot in the avatar’s innocent request. He really did second guess every gesture of kindness offered to him. 

The firebender looked ready to blow a gasket, or snag his quartet of candles and stomp out the door. Instead, he exhaled forcefully, growling under his breath like a komodo rhino with a headache.

“If you’re quiet enough that I forget you’re here, I don’t care what you do,” he grumbled. 

Aang beamed, flinging his hands in the air. “Hooray!” he cheered. He leaned forward with a grin. “I like your hair, by the way.”

Zuko’s eyes popped open and flitted towards him bewilderedly. “W-what?” he stammered, as if that was the most absurd thing anyone had ever said to him. 

“Your new hair! It looks nice. A lot better than the bald ponytail thing you had going on before. It’s so cute and fuzzy now. I like it!”

Again, Aang watched the wheels in Zuko’s head turn, trying to find some convoluted ploy masquerading behind his friendly words. He couldn’t even take a tiny compliment without drowning in doubt and suspicion? It was as heartbreaking as it was endearing.

Once the prince deduced the avatar’s nice comment posed no immediate threat, but was simply a genuine approval of his change in appearance, his expression softened. “Oh,” he said. He stared at the wall, warmth rising in his cheeks. “Well, um...thanks. I guess.”

“Of course!” Aang chirped. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Zuko sweeping a timid hand through his hair, and felt pretty proud of himself.

“I like your hair, too,” Zuko said after an awkward pause. “Did you...do something new with it?”

Aang stared at him blankly. His delivery was so bland and clumsy, it took the avatar a full five seconds to realize that Zuko was attempting to make a joke. Immediately, he busted out laughing—not because the joke was good, necessarily, but because Zuko had actually tried to make one, and his effort was so hysterically ungraceful. 

“Ehahaha!” Aang cackled, hugging himself around the middle. “Good one, Zuko! I didn’t know you could be funny!”

The tiniest of smiles lifted one corner of Zuko’s mouth before vanishing without a trace. He made an oval with his hands, pressing his thumbs and middle fingers together, then straightened his spine. “Now be quiet,” he ordered bluntly, inhaling and releasing a slow, centering breath. 

Aang grinned and reflected his pose. Zuko was still a little shivery and sweaty from his fever, but both were growing less severe as Uncle’s tea worked its magic. The room fell silent except for the soft flickering of the fire and their synchronous breathing, and stayed that way for the next hour. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The avatar was the first one to break their vigil, floating to his feet and bounding out of the tent like a miniature whirlwind. “Thanks for letting me join you, Zuko!” he called cheerfully, then darted outside.

Zuko...didn’t know what to make of their interaction. He and the avatar were adversaries. He’d told him he wasn’t going to stop hunting him. As soon as he was healed, their little game of cat owl and spider mouse would pick right back up from where it had left off. 

So what had compelled him to come in here and meditate by his side?

Not only that—he’d opened up to him about his past, his culture, the society that raised him. The very people Zuko’s forefathers were responsible for wiping out. Was he trying to appeal to his humanity, guilt him into abandoning his mission to capture the avatar? 

And what was with the whole complimenting his hair thing?

The whole exchange left Zuko feeling off. He didn’t want to think about what would become of that peppy little kid once he delivered him into the hands of his father. Avatar or not, he was so agonizingly young. 

But tricky, as well. And conniving, all of them. Just like Azula. He wouldn’t let them get in his head. For however long he was trapped here, he’d avoid interacting with them unless it was absolutely necessary. He couldn’t afford any more distractions. 

“How are you feeling, Prince Zuko?” Uncle’s voice asked from behind him. “Have you managed to eat or sleep at all? I found some basil and turmeric to add to your tea. I know you don’t care for either, but they should help settle your stomach.”

Zuko turned toward him, grimacing as the movement sent little sparks of pain zipping through his muscles. “I’m going to sleep outside tonight.”

Iroh raised an eyebrow as he prepared the ingredients for the brew. “I don’t know if the avatar and his friends will approve. They wish to keep you contained and in sight, understandably, and—”

“I don’t care what they want!” he interjected. “I’m not sleeping in here with all of them. I won’t be able to.”

Uncle sighed exasperatedly. “Prince Zuko. They are already being very considerate. They’ve given you space and leave you to your business unrestrained.” He wafted the fumes from the pot toward his nose and breathed deeply. “If I were them, I would have chained both of us up. We aren't exactly trustworthy company.”

“I’m not sitting in this stupid tent anymore,” he growled. He braced one hand against the wall and tried to push himself upright, groaning and straining with effort. 

Uncle rushed to his aid, wrapping an arm around his waist and hoisting him to his feet. Zuko wanted to push him away, but there was no way he could stay standing without his help. 

“All right—easy now, nephew.” 

He took one step forward, and almost immediately collapsed. Pain bloomed across the bottom of his foot and shot up his leg like an explosion going off in his bones. He listed forward, dizzy and nauseous, gasping for breath. 

“Do not put any weight on your left side,” Iroh insisted. “Let me support you.”

“Th-this is...infuriating,” he hissed, panting. “Why am I still so weak?”

“It has only been a day, my prince. You must give yourself time to heal.” He slung his nephew’s arm over his shoulder and bore him forward. “Come on. We’ll go slow.”

Any progress toward the exit basically required Zuko to hop on his good leg. The violent motion still jarred him, but he managed to keep going, pausing in between to let the pain subside to a manageable level. Iroh would rather he let one of kids carry him out of the tent, but Zuko would sooner hop himself to death than allow that.

Once they breached the doorway, their little limping routine turned the heads of everyone outside. Katara stood up, hands balled into fists at her side.

“What’s going on?” she said.

“Zuko needed some fresh air,” Iroh explained, grunting beneath his nephew’s weight. He was basically doing all the work required to move him away from the tent. The prince hung off him loosely, grimacing in pain, a line of sweat glistening along his forehead. His face was abnormally pale and blanching whiter and whiter with every cloddish hop forward. 

“Do you need…help?” Sokka asked hesitantly. 

Iroh forced a smile. “No, we—” he began, but Zuko was sagging lower and lower, a quiet moan rising from his lips. “—Zuko? Are you all right?”

The teen’s head was suddenly spinning like a top. Gravity was pulling on him two times stronger than usual. His wounds throbbed and ached in protest. He’d barely walked two steps away from the tent, but apparently that was all his stupid body could tolerate right now. 

“Ugh…can’t…l-lemme...down…” he whimpered.

Alarm pricked Iroh’s heart. “Okay, okay. Here.”

He eased him carefully to the ground. Zuko slumped against the outer wall of the tent, panting harshly, gripping his leg with one hand and his chest with the other. 

“What’s wrong?” Iroh asked, kneeling in front of him and cupping his palm against his pallid face. 

“He doesn’t look good,” Aang noted uneasily.

Once she realized he wasn’t going to be doing anything threatening in his current state, Katara’s muscles uncoiled. “He shouldn’t be moving,” she said, stepping closer. “Especially if he hasn’t been able to eat anything today.”

“He’s been too nauseous to,” the old man said, fear creeping into his voice. He gave his cheek a few light pats. “Zuko—hey! Talk to me! Tell me what’s going on.”

His eyelids fluttered sluggishly as he fought to stay conscious and slow his rapid breathing. “Just...lightheaded,” he slurred, squeezing his shoulder and gritting his teeth. “Ugh...h-hurts…”

Iroh turned to Sokka. “I’ve prepared some tea for him inside the tent. Please—if you could—”

“Right,” Sokka said, hurrying into the stone structure. He reappeared a few moments later with the kettle and cup in hand.

“Thank you,” Iroh breathed. He filled the cup and held it to Zuko’s lips. “Here, nephew. Drink. It will help you feel better.”

Zuko wrinkled his nose but did as he was told. He abhorred the fact that he was acting so pathetic and weak—and in front of his enemies, no less—but he was so woozy, and everything hurt, and he just wanted it to stop. The tea was hot on his tongue and left a sour aftertaste in the back of his throat. He made a face and found himself missing Uncle’s classic jasmine brew. 

“Blech,” he said. 

“I know,” Iroh conceded sympathetically. Katara offered him a bowl, and he lifted the edge to Zuko’s mouth. “Have some water.”

Zuko braved a few small sips then pushed it away. He was still queasy and didn’t want to risk overwhelming his upset stomach. The black fuzz pressing into his peripheral vision was slowly beginning to retreat, and the world was no longer dipping and tilting around him. But he was still so tired. He rested his head against the tent, struggling to keep his eyes open, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth.

“You must try to eat something,” Uncle insisted. “A couple bites of bread, soup—anything.”

Zuko recoiled at the thought of food. It was the last thing he was in the mood for right now. “I’m fine,” he grumbled breathlessly, sweat slipping down his face. “Just...lemme sit for a...a minute…”

“You will never recover your strength unless you eat,” Iroh said softly. He tore a piece of bread in half, took his nephew’s hand, and placed it in his palm. “Please, Prince Zuko.”

The firebender stared at the bread miserably. He looked so ill and weak—even Katara was nicked with pity at the sight. He must’ve been desperate to feel better if he was letting his uncle order him around without throwing a fit. 

Zuko wished there weren’t so many eyes on him right now, watching him lie half-conscious against the tent, barely able to hold his head up, shivering with pain and sickness as he nibbled defeatedly on the bread in his hands. Azula’s mocking voice echoed in his ears—weak, pathetic, miserable failure. Father’s piercing glare bore down on him, radiating disgust and disappointment. 

But Uncle was with him, pressed against his side, telling him everything was going to be okay as he gently guided his head to his shoulder.

“Don’t...wait...” Zuko whined. But once he was leaned against him, he felt himself starting to drift. Sleepiness curled around him like a warm blanket. Iroh pulled the bread from his limp fingers and ran his thumb along his cheek. 

“Just rest here a moment. I will help you move once you have the energy to stand.”

But Zuko made the mistake of closing his eyes. It was meant to be for only a moment, but after they slipped shut, he couldn’t get them to open again. As Iroh anticipated, his nephew was soon asleep. He pulled a rag from his pocket and mopped the fever sweat from his forehead. 

“Did he just...pass out?” Toph asked.

“He hasn’t slept since last night,” Iroh said, watching his nephew snooze against his shoulder with a tender fondness in his eyes. “He’s always been so stubborn, never resting until he’s completely burnt out or unless it is forced upon him—even when his body desperately needs it.”

Aang found the sight endearing. Katara thought the old man’s concern for his nephew was misplaced but sweet. Sokka narrowed his eyes, opening the tea pot and gingerly sniffing its contents. His jaw dropped. 

“Did you drug him?”

Iroh chuckled lightly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “An old trick his mother used to use when he couldn’t get to sleep as a child. Add a tiny dash of dragon thistle root to his tea, and he is out like a light.”

While the others reeled over the old man’s well-intentioned but semi-conniving actions, Katara’s mind honed in on one word: mother. During Iroh’s entire soapbox about Zuko’s past, he’d never once mentioned his mom. What did she think about her son? Was she like Ozai? Cold and heartless, happy to exile her own child in favor of her more powerful daughter? Or was she different? What part did she play in the strange, tragic menagerie of Zuko’s life?

Iroh smiled at the children. “Would one of you please grab a blanket for me, if you don’t mind?” 

“Sure!” Aang said, darting past him. Katara stared at Zuko’s sleeping face and decided not to ask about his mother. She already knew more about him than she wanted to as it was. And the more she learned, the harder it was to hate him.

Aang returned with the linens. Iroh gathered his nephew into his arms and carefully laid him down, tossing the blanket over his body and pulling it up to his chin. 

“Hopefully he sleeps through the night,” he said. It was funny to watch the person they fought and feared as an enemy be treated like a precious little baby by his uncle.

“I’ll heal him again tomorrow morning,” Katara said, then stalked into the tent without another word.

Her friends hesitated, then followed her inside. Iroh stayed beside his nephew, matching his breathing to his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zuko woke up screaming. 

He’d suffered from night terrors since Mom had disappeared without a trace, and they’d only gotten worse since his banishment. He dreamed of her face being swallowed up in flames, of the ground turning to tar beneath him and dragging him into suffocating darkness, of his father scorching his eye again and again and again, the smell and the pain all too real. 

And now, he was dreaming of Azula. Eyes dark and remorseless as she shot lighting into the hearts of those he loved, sending Mom and Uncle toppling to the ground in smoking heaps before turning on him. He was lucky if he got through the night without shooting awake in a cold sweat at least one. 

When the lightning struck him, Zuko bolted upright, a terrified shout leaping from his throat. But something clapped over his mouth to stop it from escaping. Whatever it was was shaped like a hand, but it had the texture of rock. Panicked, fire flared from his fingertips. He made a grab for the stranger’s arm, but something caught his hands before they reached it, trapping them at his sides. He squirmed and cursed, voice muffled, heart racing. 

“It’s okay,” a girl’s voice said. “Shh. It’s me.”

A young face took shape in the darkness. Black hair and pale, faded eyes. It was the tiny earthbender that had showed up at the fight between Azula, the avatar, and himself. She must have joined their group while they were traveling through the Earth Kingdom. So far, the two of them had avoided direct confrontation—or rather, any interaction whatsoever. 

“I heard you. From the tent. And, uh, felt you shaking. I didn’t want you to wake anyone else up.”

Zuko stopped struggling, his breathing quick and his eyes blinking. Slowly, she took her palm away from his mouth. It was shrouded in rock, perhaps in case he tried any breath-related firebending moves. With a flick of her wrist, the earth restraints fell away from his hands. 

“Sorry for scaring you. I just figured you wouldn’t want anyone else hearing that, and I didn’t wanna get fried in the process of shutting you up.”

Zuko studied her in a fuzzy, flustered haze, panting quietly. “Oh,” he stammered. “Uh, r-right.” His bones were quaking under his skin. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears. He scrubbed a hand across his face and started when it came away wet. He touched under his eyes and realized his cheeks were damp with tears. Shame burned up his throat as he dried them frantically and turned away. “Um, s-sorry for waking you.”

She stared at him in silence. Well, not exactly stared—not with her eyes, at least. But he could feel her feeling him, gauging his movements, his voice. She probably knew he’d been crying. She barely looked a day older than the avatar, but exuded the power and poise of a master bender, all while retaining the appearance and quirkiness of a child.

Which was weird. Because as far as he could tell, she was totally blind.

“Well...goodnight,” he said, voice brittle. But she didn’t move. And he didn’t lay back down.

“They have them too, you know.”

He glanced at her bemusedly. “What?”

“Nightmares. They get them too. Aang, Katara, Sokka.” 

He scoffed lightly, rubbing his eyes. “And you don’t?”

She grimaced at the ground. “Not like they do. I had a difficult home life, but...it’s different.”

He gripped his arms at the elbows and stared off to the side. He wasn’t sure what she was looking to get out of this conversation.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

Zuko wrinkled his brow. “About what?” he said.

“Your nightmare.”

Heat flushed across Zuko’s skin. “No,” he said sharply, glaring between his feet. 

Toph shrugged. “That’s fine. Just thought I’d extend the offer. I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”

The girl grinned. Zuko narrowed his eyes. Was that supposed to be a joke? He kneaded gingerly at his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he growled, wincing when he touched a particularly sore spot. “You can go away now.”

“I’m Toph,” she said, ignoring him enthusiastically. “I don’t think we’ve formally met.” 

Why don’t any of these people ever listen to a word I say? he thought bitterly. Also, I’ve never formally met any of you. He heaved a small sigh. 

“Hello,” he deadpanned. “Now get lost.”

“My friends don’t seem to like you, but I judge people for myself.” She flexed her feet in the grass absentmindedly. “And yeah, hunting Aang isn’t cool, but I don’t think you’re as bad as they make you out to be.”

Zuko was caught off guard by her blunt but oddly nice statement. He tried not to let it show, masking his surprise behind a scowl.

“I don’t care what you or your friends think of me,” he snapped, bunching the blanket in his fists. “Just leave me alone!”

“See, you put on this scary, tough facade, but I don’t think that’s really you,” she continued. “It's a defense mechanism.” 

Zuko fumed. “Are you blind and deaf? Go away! You don’t know me. Stop pretending like you do!”

“But I do know you,” she insisted. “You try to push others away so they can never get close enough to hurt you. You think by being mean and abrasive and keeping them at a distance, you’re protecting yourself. But really, you’re just making yourself more lonely.”

The firebender’s heart skipped a beat. Toph could tell she’d struck a chord. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish stranded on land, her words bouncing around in his head, freakishly insightful for someone who barely looked ten. 

“I know you because you’re like me,” she explained. “We’re not good at feelings and all that dumb mushy crap. We think doing everything on our own makes us stronger than accepting help from others. But I’m starting to learn that’s not always true.”

Was she baiting him? Trying to rile him up to the point that he attacked, granting her an excuse to kill him? Or was she truly speaking from the heart? Her observation stung a bit too deep to not be genuine, and sounded a little too familiar for his taste. 

Like Uncle. 

But he refused to dwell on it. He wouldn’t; he couldn’t. Stunned confusion was quickly superseded by prickling irritation. He scoffed indignantly.

“You’re crazy,” he spat. “You’re a child. You don’t know anything.”

Toph crossed her arms and smirked. “Then that makes two of us.”

Flames roiled in Zuko’s belly. “What?”

“Hey!” a voice called from the tent. Zuko turned and spotted Sokka peeking out from the darkness, an angry line twitching between his eyebrows. “Some of us around here are trying to sleep! Why are you guys yelling?” He stepped through the doorway with his boomerang cocked behind his head, glaring sleepily at Zuko. “Is Prince Angry Jerk here causing trouble?”

“I’m not doing anything,” he snarled, gesturing to Toph. “Your obnoxious little friend won’t leave me alone.”

“We’re fine,” she assured him. “I was just informing Zuko that his whole ‘bad guy’ charade is stupid, along with his entire mindset about everything.”

Smoke hissed from his nostrils and coiled from his fists. “Why, you little—”

“Ah-ah!” Sokka interjected, waving his boomerang threateningly. “Don’t even think about it.”

Zuko threw his hands in the air. “What, I’m just supposed to sit here while she calls me stupid to my face?” 

“Precisely,” Sokka said, sitting beside Toph. His hair was out of its usual ponytail and hanging in his eyes, forcing him to tuck it behind his ears every now and then. Zuko had never seen the Water Tribe boy with hair down before. It was a lot longer than he expected. 

Sokka bumped his shoulder against the earthbender’s. “Is this late night insult Zuko hour or something? Because I’m totally in, and very upset I didn’t receive an invitation.”

“I’m not trying to insult him,” Toph insisted. “I’m just telling him the truth.”

“What you’re doing is asking to get fried beyond recognition,” he spat viciously. Sokka leaned toward him and squinted.

“Why are your eyes red?” he asked. His brows shot toward his hairline. “Have you been crying?”

Zuko’s scowl dissolved into a look of panic. He’d tried to push the horrific nightmare from his mind, but the damage it had reaped was evidently still lingering. Drenched in milky moonlight, Sokka had never seen the Fire Nation prince look so scared and distraught before. Humiliation sawed at Zuko’s insides. He grappled for something to say—a quick and scathing retort. But his throat was seizing up, and a fresh bout of tears welled in his eyes.

“I…” he began, voice shivery. Toph punched Sokka in the arm. 

“Lay off,” she scolded him. “He startled me when I came out here to take a whizz, so I kicked dirt in his eyes. That’s all.”

Zuko turned to her in disbelief, blinking. She hinted a small smile that disappeared just as quickly. Relief drizzled over his heart. 

“Oh,” Sokka said, rubbing his shoulder, glancing between them skeptically. “Right.” He recognized immediately that they weren’t telling him what was really going on, but decided not to press the matter. If Toph thought it important to keep under wraps, he trusted her.

Zuko kneaded his eyes with the heels of his hands and avoided his gaze, feeling sticky and exposed. Why would she lie for me? he wondered. How does that benefit her? Wouldn’t she want to humiliate her enemy every chance she got? To show her friends how weak and pathetic he really was? Maybe she wanted him indebted to her. Or to have something over him to use as blackmail. 

Whatever the reason, he was relieved. For now, at least. A part of him wanted to thank her. He stared into her foggy eyes for a moment, hoping she understood. 

Toph responded by crossing her arms and grinning wide. “Anyway, back to you being stupid,” she said spiritedly. 

The prince deflated with a groan. So much for being grateful. “Seriously?” he exclaimed, his rage blossoming back to life. 

“You make no sense to me,” she continued unperturbed. “You're trying to capture Aang and bring him home to your dad so he’ll love and accept you, right?”

Zuko was off-put by the direct address. So was Sokka. The firebender huffed irately. “I’m not talking to you about this.”

“But it sorta seems like he’s been awful to you even before you were banished.”

The prince wasn’t sure how much she or others knew about his situation, but already it sounded like more than he was comfortable with. He gritted his teeth.

“Be quiet!” he barked. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You want a father who cares about you and understands you,” Toph said with a snort. “Trust me: I get it. My parents still think I’m some helpless little blind girl, not a butt-kicking, earthbending champion.” 

Zuko glared daggers through Toph. “Our situations aren’t the same. My father does care about me. Once I bring him the avatar, he’ll accept me as his son, and my honor will be restored.” 

Toph blew a tuft of hair out of her face and dropped her chin into her hand. Sokka rolled his eyes.

“No offense, Prince Jerkbender, but your dad is kind of the worst.”

Zuko turned away from them, hissing with pain and frustration. “This is why I’m not talking to you about this! None of you could ever understand!”

“What we don’t understand is why you’re set on getting your terrible father to like you when you already have someone who loves and accepts you right now!” Sokka cried, exasperated.

A shock went through Zuko’s system. He swallowed, gripping his wound and hunching his shoulders.

“What...w-what are you talking about?” he murmured.

Toph scoffed. “Um...your uncle?” she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the universe. “You know, the guy who left the Fire Nation to help you? Who travels around the world with you and supports you no matter how badly you treat him? The man who makes you tea and comforts you when you’re sick and tucks you into bed at night?”

“And who convinced us to help you even though we really didn’t want to?” Sokka added. 

Zuko’s chest tightened. Anxiety and confusion and an avalanche of other emotions churned inside his gut. He grimaced at the ground.

“He cares about you. Like, openly, aggressively cares about you. It’s as annoying as it is sweet.” Toph tilted her head to the side. “Why are you so determined to earn your dad’s love, when your uncle already loves you as you are?”

The prince didn’t look at them. He watched a beetle crawl over a rock, his fingers shivering against his aching shoulder. He inhaled sharply, then laid across the ground, yanking the blanket over his head and curling into himself. 

Sokka glanced at Toph, then back at Zuko, then sighed. It looked like there was no getting through to him. The earthbender rose to her feet.

“Drink some more of your uncle’s tea,” she demanded, then strode back into the tent. “G’night.”

Sokka was quick to follow her, yawning as he stepped into the darkness, shooting one last look over his shoulder.

Zuko shuddered alone beneath the stars, blinking back tears. A few restless minutes later, he heated up Uncle’s teapot, choked down another cup of boiling, bitter liquid, then nestled against the grass, praying that the rest of his night would be dreamless. That is, if he ever managed to fall asleep again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is it just me, or is Zuko...kind of awkward?”

Katara stopped fixing her hair mid-braid, scoffing. “What? What do you mean?”

Aang stretched and smiled, the morning sunlight pouring in through the doorway gilding his limbs in a golden halo. “Yesterday, while we were meditating, I told him I liked his new hair. And he totally didn’t know how to respond—as if he’s never been complimented by anyone besides his uncle before. It was hilarious!”

Sokka shot upright, mouth hanging agape. “Wait—‘we?’” he exclaimed. “As in, you were meditating together?”

“Yeah! Zuko practices meditation just like me! Isn’t that cool?”

Katara frowned. “That’s...weird. He’s the last person I’d expect to see meditating. Especially with you.”

“I know, right?” Aang giggled. “The best part was, when I told him I liked his hair, he said he liked mine, too. Like, as a joke! Because I’m bald!” He laughed brightly. “It was so bad, but that only made it funnier!”

Katara huffed, tying off the end of her braid. “Well I’m glad you had fun with the guy who’s going to try imprisoning you the moment he can walk again.”

Aang winced at her coldness. “I’m just saying, Katara. If you’re patient and give him the chance, you’ll see there’s more to him than ‘angry scary firebender prince.’ He’s more human than you might think.”

When Katara simply rolled her eyes, Toph decided to speak up.

“So, don’t tell him I told you guys this, but...I had a chat with him last night. He had a really bad nightmare, and the sound of his cries woke me up.”

Sokka hopped to his feet. “Ha! I knew you were lying! I may not have lie-detecting feet, but I know a fib when I hear one.” His excitement was short lived, however. He backtracked with a troubled look, eyeing the doorway. “Oh...does that mean I was right before? You know...about him crying?”

Aang’s eyes bulged out of his head. “Wait—Zuko was crying?” 

Everyone’s gazes veered toward Toph. The tiny earthbender nodded solemnly, her expression grim. “He was screaming in his sleep. I had to cover his mouth to stop him from waking all of you up.” She scratched the back of her neck. “He was...calling for his mom. Begging her to come back. I don’t know what happened to her, or what their relationship is like, but…” she shook her head. “It was really sad.”

Silence veiled the room. Again, Katara felt torn in half by her usual eagerness to help those in pain and her hatred toward Zuko. Sokka put his hair up and placed his hands on his hips.

“The guy’s got a lot of issues, that’s for sure. Do I feel bad for him? Maybe, a little. Does it make me trust him any more than I did before? Absolutely not.” 

“Exactly,” Katara said, glad she had her brother were back on the same page. Aang crossed his arms against his chest.

“But he has shown us he has more than one side. You guys saw more of his vulnerable side, and I got to see part of his calm and awkward side.” He snickered into his hand. “Man, you should’ve seen his face! He has no idea how to take a compliment. I don’t think anyone’s ever called him cute before.”

Katara stuck out her tongue. “Who would ever have a reason to?”

“Oh, come on! You have to admit his new haircut is better than his old one!”

Sokka snorted. “I think anything is better compared to that disaster, so you’re setting the bar pretty low.”

Aang beamed between his friends. “You all should try complimenting him sometime, if only to see his response. It catches him completely off guard.”

Sokka blew a raspberry and walked outside, stretching his arms over his head. Katara wrinkled her nose at Aang’s chipper attitude toward all of this. How many times did she have to remind him that Zuko was their enemy who wanted nothing more than to see him in chains. Even if she liked his new look, and had maybe had to stop herself from touching his hair while he was unconscious and no one else was around to see (it just looked so fuzzy!), no way would she ever say so out loud. 

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” she snapped. “Under no circumstances would I ever consider that monster cute.”

At that moment, Sokka popped back into the tent, looking both shocked and delighted at the same time. “Guys, you have got to come see this,” he said.

Katara and Aang exchanged a glance before following him. Toph came along too, although she had a feeling she already knew what he was referring to, based on the cluster of mismatched vibrations her feet were picking up.

The three friends tailed Sokka outside and stopped when they discovered a giant fluffy mountain resting in the sunrise. Appa had moved from his spot by the river and was now lying beside the earth tent. His ears perked up as they approached, but he didn’t raise his head. Aang didn’t understand what all the fuss was about, until Sokka coaxed him forward.

“Look,” he snickered. 

Katara and the avatar peered over Appa’s large foot to find a very bizarre sight. A bunch of animals were gathered between Appa’s front legs—a skink quail, a prickle snake, a pair of dragonflies, and a family of turtle ducks, which was strange in itself. But underneath the zoo of wildlife was Zuko, curled up and sleeping peacefully with all the animals snuggled against him, as if they were his babies and he was their teenage firebending mama. Even Momo was there, nestled in the crook of Zuko’s neck and shoulder, purring contently. 

“What the…?” Aang said, blinking.

“Right?” Sokka giggled.

“What exactly am I looking at right now?” Katara asked, her hands flying to her mouth in horror. “Oh no. He’s not—they’re not—eating him, are they?”

“He’s not dead, if that’s what you're asking,” Toph assured her. “His breathing and heartbeat actually feel better than they did yesterday.”

“They look like they’re just...cuddling him,” Aang said. He cupped his palms over his heart, melting with endearment. “Awww! That’s so sweet!”

“But why are they doing it?” Katara asked. The prickle snake was coiled into a spiral and resting on top of his belly. The four turtle ducks were pressed against his back, their tails tucked underneath his side. While the dragonflies occupied both of his arms, the skink quail burrowed itself in the bend of his knees. Appa had his nose against his shoulder blades and his toes under his head and feet, his deep breaths stirring Zuko’s hair. 

Okay, it was cute. Sue her. It still made no sense.

“Maybe he...smells good?” Sokka suggested dubiously. “From something in his uncle’s tea?”

Aang sprung on top of Appa’s head and petted his fur. “Whatcha doing with Zuko, buddy? Do you like him? Does he smell nice?”

“Maybe it’s because of his fever,” Toph suggested, pressing one hand against the ground. “He still feels a lot warmer than the rest of you.”

“So they’re snuggling him to sap his fever heat?” Katara said, fighting back a smile. It was oddly endearing—watching the prince sleep, his wiry shape buried in woodland creatures. He looked like a spoiled little kid surrounded by toys, or some kind of mystical forest spirit communing with nature. 

“Here Momo,” Aang called, hanging off Appa’s horn to try to scoop him up. Momo growled and hissed in protest, pressing closer to Zuko. His squirmy movements roused the slumbering firebender, making him wrinkle his brow and release a quiet moan. 

Zuko blinked sluggishly, the grass and the flowers poking up from the earth gradually coming into focus. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, feeling clusters of tiny bodies shift with his movements. Oh, great, he thought. Not again. He pushed himself upright, grimacing from a sudden jolt of pain, careful not to squish any of the little creatures around him. When he lifted his bleary gaze, he was surprised to find four pairs of eyes gazing back, wide with confusion.

“Ah!” Zuko yelped, flinching backwards sharply. The turtle ducks and the dragonflies sprung away from him for a moment, then quickly reconvened, nuzzling against his limbs. Momo hopped on to his scalp, pawing at his messy bedhead, but Zuko barely seemed to notice. His shock shifted to puzzled anger. “What on earth? Why are all of you watching me sleep? Don’t you know how creepy that is?”

Sokka shrugged dramatically. “Huh, gee, I don’t know. Maybe because we walked out here to find you having a giant cuddly slumber party with an entire petting zoo’s worth of animals.”

“Which for some reason doesn’t seem to be weirding you out,” Katara added, watching Momo growl at the dragonflies from on top of Zuko’s head. 

Aang and Toph giggled at the peculiar scene. Zuko glared between them lazily, stifling another yawn.

“It happens sometimes when I sleep out in the open,” he mumbled. “I don’t know why.” He winced when Appa nudged him in the back with his nose, as if he hadn’t noticed the enormous flying bison looming over him until now. Momo leapt from his head to his shoulder and licked his cheek. 

“Wait—you mean this is a regular thing for you?” Aang floated to the ground in front of him, beaming. “Waking up and being surrounded by a bunch of animals?”

Zuko shrugged, scratching at his disheveled hair. “Sorta.” 

The four friends just stared at him. He began to realize how strange this probably looked to people who didn’t have to deal with it on the regular. He cringed when Appa’s giant tongue lapped across the entirety of his back, plastering him in sticky saliva. 

“Ugh! Gross!” Zuko shoved the bison’s enormous nose in disgust. “Get your slobbery pets away from me!”

“They like you!” Aang insisted, eyes sparkling. “Wow! You’re like an animal whisperer! Look at you, surrounded by cuddly wildlife! You’re so cute!”

To everyone’s delight, Zuko’s cheeks turned pink. Aang hadn’t been joking about the whole ‘can’t take a compliment’ thing.

“I’m not—it’s not—cute,” he grumbled. “It’s annoying.” 

Frowning, he scooped the family of turtle ducks in his arms and placed them to the side, trying to look careless and angry while also being noticeably gentle. As soon as their feet touched the ground, they scurried back up his legs and into his lap with a chorus of quacks and chirps. His look of surprise made all four of them burst out laughing. Sokka grinned smugly. 

“Face it, Zuko. You’re a prissy little prince whose angry royal yelling attracts flocks of baby animals to snuggle you to sleep. If that’s not cute, I don’t know what is.”

Zuko’s cheeks went from pink to red. Until now, none of them had ever seen the firebender full-on blush before. Couple that with the dragonflies flanking his sides, the skink quail fluffed against his knee, the prickle snake slithering toward his neck, and the turtle ducks quacking incessantly at Momo, it was a scene all of them wanted painted and framed to treasure forever. One of the dragonflies prodded at his hand, asking to be pet, and he begrudgingly obliged.

“Whatever,” he muttered shyly. “It’s not like I try to make them come. They just show up.”

Toph hummed in thought. “I figured they were snuggling you because of your fever, but if this happens pretty often, then I don’t know what’s causing it.”

“I’m telling you, it’s a royalty thing. Wild animals just really like aristocrats. Especially ones that sing.” Sokka leaned toward Zuko suspiciously. “Can you sing? Come on—belt out a tune for me.”

Ignoring him, Zuko lifted Momo off his shoulder and placed him on the ground. “I don’t feel like I have a fever anymore,” he said. “I think it broke last night.” The lemur warbled in disappointment and scampered away.

His chills were gone, along with the skull-splitting migraine. Now he only had the aches and pains of his lightning wound to worry about. It wasn’t much of an improvement, but it was better than no progress at all.

“You still feel warm to me,” Toph said skeptically. Katara reached forward and held her hand against his forehead, making him wince in surprise.

“Definitely warm,” Katara agreed. Zuko pulled away from her touch sourly.

“I don’t have a fever,” Zuko snapped. “I’m just naturally hot.”

Katara blinked at him. Sokka snorted behind his hand. 

“Oh, is that so?” he snickered.

Zuko narrowed his eyes bemusedly. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s a firebender thing. We tend to run hotter than regular people.” He pushed at the dragonfly that was nibbling his ear. “But I’m unusually hot for some reason. Like, more so than normal firebenders.”

Now everyone was giggling. Zuko glanced between them with a puzzled frown, the double-sidedness of his words clearly not registering.

“What?” 

Sokka waved dismissively, clutching his stomach. “Oh, nothing,” he chuckled. “That’s just a pretty bold statement to make about yourself.”

One of the turtle ducklings scuttled on top of Zuko’s leg. He stroked its tiny head with his thumb unconsciously, scowling. 

“No it’s not,” he insisted. “It’s the truth. My uncle said so.”

Now the four kids were howling. Zuko started, eyes wide, then scoffed, balling his hands at his sides.

“What is so funny?”

“Are you sure your uncle’s not just saying that because he’s obligated to?” Katara giggled. 

Toph cackled with her arms crossed. “Personally, I trust Iroh’s opinion. If he says Zuko’s hot, then I’ll take his word for it.”

Aang and Sokka doubled over with laughter, hugging their bellies as their shoulders bounced up and down. Zuko’s face burned as the realization gradually dawned on him. 

“No, wait, th-that’s not what I…!” he began, but no one was listening to him. They were all too busy giggling like children at his simple slip-up. He sighed irritably, plucking the prickle snake from his shoulder and placing it in his palm. “You’re all so immature. You know I was talking about temperature...”

“Whatever you say, Prince Hotman,” Aang chuckled, bowing extravagantly. Zuko blushed and avoided their gazes, petting the snake bitterly. 

“Aren’t you scared it’s going to bite you?” Toph asked, pointing to the serpent in his hand. “Prickle snakes are venomous.”

Zuko looked down at the small reptile. “They never have before,” he said casually, letting it curl and slither around his wrist. 

“I think they like how warm you are,” she said. “That’s why they cuddle up to you to sleep. I guess it was pretty chilly last night.”

Without warning, Aang hopped over Appa’s leg and wrapped Zuko in a hug, making the prince recoil uncomfortably.

“Hey! W-what are you—?” he stammered.

“You’re right, Toph! He is really warm!” Aang nuzzled his head into Zuko’s shoulder, closing his eyes and grinning wide. “No wonder all the animals want to snuggle you! You’re like a big, cozy space heater!”

“Get off me!” he snapped, squirming and pushing the clingy airbender. The dragonflies hissed in protest, the turtle ducks squawked furiously, and the skink quail puffed into an angry little ball, cuing Appa to let out a guttural roar.

Feathers exploded from the skink quail as it took flight, flapping and fluttering in terror. The dragonflies screeched and zipped into the sky as the prickle snake sprung out of his hand and slithered into the brush. Quacking frantically, the turtle ducks scurried out of the prince’s lap, gunning for the river. In a matter of moments, all of the wildlife had fled the scene. Zuko blinked in surprise as Appa licked his hair, satisfied with his work. 

“Appa! How rude!” Aang scolded the bison, his arms still curled around the wriggly firebender. “Space heaters are meant to be shared!”

“I am not a space heater!” Zuko retorted, shoving Aang’s face away with both hands. The others weren’t sure whether they should be concerned or amused. It was a pretty funny sight, watching the two diametrically opposed benders squabble like little kids. 

To add to the humor of the situation, it was at that moment that Zuko’s stomach decided to release a long, loud growl. He and Aang both froze, startled by the sudden noise. Then the avatar laughed brightly. 

“It sounds like the space heater needs some fuel!” he giggled, releasing Zuko from his hold and flitting on top of Appa’s foot. Zuko stared sideways sheepishly, gripping his belly, still rattled by the random cuddle attack. His stomach continued to rumble against his fingertips, pleading for anything besides tea. He’d forgotten that he’d hardly eaten yesterday. Now that he was no longer nauseous, he was really beginning to feel the effects. 

“Do you have an appetite at all?” Katara asked. “We have fish and berries and a little bit of bread. You need to get some food in your system if you can.”

Zuko shrugged, trying to look casual. “I guess,” he mumbled. A second later, his tummy practically roared, causing heat to rush to his ears. 

“I think the monster in your stomach speaks for itself,” Sokka snickered. His friends chuckled alongside him. Zuko squeezed his belly tighter, as if he could smother it into silence. 

Katara tugged on the avatar’s sleeve. “Aang, why don’t you go grab him some breakfast while Sokka and I move him into the tent?”

Aang brightened. “Okay!” He formed a ball of air underneath his body and sprung onto it, balancing on top with one foot and zipping away like some kind of crazy performer in a freaky circus act. Toph followed after him, yawning and stretching.

Zuko looked uneasy as the two Water Tribe siblings approached. Appa nuzzled his back with his nose in an almost encouraging manner. 

“Can you walk at all, or do you want us to carry you?” 

The prince glowered. “I’m not going back in the tent,” he hissed. “And you’re not carrying me.” 

“You need another healing session. I figured you’d want some privacy.” Katara rolled her eyes. “But if you want to do it out here, grouchy pants, we can.”

Zuko thought on it for a moment. He supposed he’d prefer not having eight eyes watching as the Water Tribe girl put her weird glowy healing hands all over him. He looked up at the bison, who had angled his head toward him in an oddly convenient manner.

“Fine,” he mumbled. He grabbed hold of Appa’s horn and used it to lift his body off the ground, straining and sputtering. Once he was upright, he sagged against the fluffy monster, sweat beading across his brow, face flushed with effort. Appa stayed still for him, perfectly content being a two-ton support stand for the tiny, warm human. 

Katara and Sokka shared a look before flanking Zuko on either side, wrapping their arms under his and bearing the majority of his weight. They walked him toward the tent, letting his feet touch the ground so he didn’t feel like he was being carried even though that was essentially what was happening.

“Wow, Aang was right,” Sokka observed. “You are really warm. Just like a—”

“If you say space heater, I’m lighting your hair on fire,” Zuko grated out. 

Katara gaped. “If you even think about lighting my brother’s hair on fire, your ungrateful butt is going in the river.”

“Yeah,” Sokka chuckled. “The fishies need a turn cuddling Prince Hothead.”

Zuko grumbled something under his breath, but didn’t have the energy to banter. He hated having to be cared for and escorted around by his stupid enemies. The Water Tribe siblings in particular both annoyed and puzzled him. He’d never seen a brother and sister get along so well, let alone be protective of each other. Azula would never in a million years defend him if he were in trouble; she’d be watching from the front row with a bowl of fire flakes, cheering for his demise, if not trying to kill him herself. Similarly, for as long as he’d known them, Ozai and Iroh had always been rivals first, relatives second. Being dual heirs to the Fire Nation throne just gave you another person to compete with, to fear, to suspect of plotting your assassination. Royal Fire Nation siblings were never allies, and certainly not friends.  

He and Azula had been playmates when they were kids, of course. As a child, Zuko had protected his little sister whenever and however he could. But that only lasted until they began to understand who they were—what they were. Until Azula no longer needed his protection. Until he needed protection from her. 

If it came down to it, if it was life or death, would he still defend her? Or would he let her get what she deserved?

Even after getting zapped into oblivion by his sister, it was hard to say. 

“Where’s my uncle?” Zuko asked through his teeth as they led him into the tent.

“He went to a nearby town to get supplies,” Sokka replied. “He said he was looking for ingredients for some kind of burn balm for you.”

Sokka eyed him in a way that screamed you know, because he actually cares about you, unlike a certain son-banishing Fire Lord I know? 

Zuko turned away from his gaze and glared at the ground. He hoped Uncle would find what he needed and get back here soon. Whatever medicine he’d put on his eye in the infirmary three years ago had significantly sped up his recovery.

“How are you feeling right now, overall?” Katara asked. She and her brother helped him sit against the wall. He held his shoulder and panted softly, his face gnarled with pain. 

“Like I got struck by lightning two days ago,” he muttered.

Sokka barked out a laugh. Katara frowned at him. He withered beneath her glare. “What?” he said defensively. “It was funny! Wasn’t that supposed to be funny?”

“Why don’t you go harvest some nuts or something?” Katara said, pushing him toward the exit. Sokka dug his heels into the ground, narrowing his eyes at the injured prince. 

“You’re okay being alone with him?” Sokka asked. “What if he firebends at you?”

Katara scoffed in Zuko’s direction. “Don’t worry,” she insisted. “I’m more than capable of handling him myself.”

Zuko scowled, even though he knew she was right. Sure, he could get a surprise attack in—two, if he was lucky. But she’d easily counter with a lash of frozen water, rendering him immobile (and possibly eating the floor) in seconds, if not dead. She had gotten obnoxiously better at fighting since visiting the Northern Water Tribe. She was now one of the biggest threats he encountered when confronting their team, even when he wasn’t half-fried and barely able to walk. In his current state, he didn’t stand a chance. 

It wasn’t like he was planning to attack her—not right now, at least. Still. These were the anxieties constantly seething through his mind. In the event he needed to overpower her, it was scary to realize he probably couldn’t. Why did Uncle think it was okay to leave him all by himself with these people? The old man was far too trusting. 

Sokka wrinkled his nose. “Okay,” he relented, giving Katara a quick hug. Then he jabbed a finger at Zuko. “Don’t try anything funny or fiery with my sister, or you’ll be sorry. Got it?”

Zuko stared between them bemusedly, then offered a short nod. Sokka puffed up his chest and marched out of the tent, leaving the waterbender and the firebender alone inside. 

Once her brother’s footsteps had faded out of earshot, Katara turned to the prince with sharp eyes and an expression he couldn’t quite read. She popped open her pouch and streamed the water around her hands, cycling a slow breath through her lungs. 

“Let’s get this over with,” she said, and kneeled beside him. She pressed both palms to the wound on his chest and let the water flow over and into the burnt flesh, tracking the damage as it traveled through his body. Zuko tensed at first, the strange, cold feeling taking him by surprise. But as the pain began to ebb away—the stings, the aches, the twinges, all of it—he allowed himself to relax. Well, as much as he could relax with a Water Tribe girl who hated his guts sitting uncomfortably close to him with her hands on his chest. 

As the two sat in awkward silence, Zuko considered the possibility that choosing to be alone with Katara while she healed him was worse than being out in the open. 

“How long is this going to take?” he asked, shooting brief glances at her hands, but mostly just staring at the ground. 

“About twenty minutes, if you stay still,” she answered. Hardly a minute had passed, and already Katara knew she preferred healing an unconscious Zuko over an awake one. When he was asleep, she didn’t have to worry about breaking the tension, or tip-toeing around his injury, or those deadly golden eyes watching her every move. She didn’t even have to acknowledge that he was Zuko, their nemesis. He was just a body that needed to be healed. A broken pile of muscle and skin for her to mend with waterbending. It was like working with one of those dummies the Northern Water Tribe women had practiced and demonstrated their healing abilities on. Treating him while he was unconscious was easier because she didn’t have to think of him as a person. It was more like fixing a machine.

Zuko’s piercing stare lingered on her hands a little longer than she liked. Maybe she should get him to drink more of his uncle’s knock-out tea. Anything to escape the growing balloon of discomfort suffocating the air between them.

“How...are you doing that?” he inquired carefully, the glow from her waterbending glinting in his eyes. She weighed the question in her mind before choosing her reply. 

“Some waterbenders have healing abilities,” she said. “Lucky for you, I’m one of them.”

Zuko studied her for a second before looking away. “I’ve never heard of that before.”

“Maybe you would have, if the Fire Nation hadn’t killed nearly every last waterbender in the South Pole.”

Zuko’s eyes flitted wide for a moment before dropping to the floor. He swallowed, his hands fidgeting in his lap.

“I’m sorry.”

Katara’s steady hand movements wavered. She lifted her gaze to his. Now that she knew the story behind his scar—the malevolent forces and people who had allowed the prince to be permanently branded so cruelly—she found it difficult to tear her eyes away from it. She’d never noticed how painful it looked. How the scorched, leathery skin stood out so drastically against the rest of his young, unblemished face. He could be two totally different people, depending on which side of him you were looking at. Staring at him now made her stomach clench. It felt like she was seeing him—truly seeing him—for the very first time. 

The apology had caught her off guard. So much so, she didn’t realize how long she’d been gazing at him until he turned toward her. A flash of realization crossed his face.

“My—my sister didn’t give me this one too, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Katara glanced away quickly, feeling rude. “N-no, that’s not…” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Sorry.”

Zuko gave a small shrug. “It’s fine,” he said, although his expression told a different story. 

She went back to healing his shoulder. Now she was purposely not looking at his face, which somehow felt just as awkward. A full minute passed before either of them spoke again.

“Does it still hurt?” she asked quietly.

Zuko blinked at her. “What?”

“Your eye. Does it still hurt sometimes?”

A line formed between his brows. “It’s a scar,” he said.

“Is that a no?”

He shifted in place, looking thoughtful and uneasy. He reached up and grazed the burned skin with his fingertips. “I guess I sometimes think it’s hurting, but...I don’t think it’s real.” 

Katara nodded solemnly. “Sokka has a scar on his back like that. He fell out of a canoe as a kid and landed on a sharp patch of ice. It really rattled him, and he says it still stings from time to time. But he thinks it’s all in his head.”

Zuko looked down at her hands again. “Do you think it’s all in his head?”

The waterbender pursed her lips in thought. Then she lifted her shoulders somberly. “Does it matter? It still hurts him. Except there’s nothing I can do to make it better.”

The prince had a curious expression on his face, like he wanted to understand what she was saying while also knowing he never would. This was the longest she’d ever seen him go without boasting his signature scowl. 

“You and your brother care a lot about each other,” he said warily. Not as a question, but a stated fact. An observation. 

“Of course we do,” she said, almost laughing. Zuko eyed his shoulder wound dismally. 

“Must be nice,” he murmured. 

Katara followed his gaze and grimaced. “Oh,” she said. She’d almost forgotten it was his sister who had nearly electrocuted him to death.

“I guess not all siblings were meant to get along like you two.”

Katara couldn’t imagine not being friends with her brother. Sure, they’d had their fair share of spats and squabbles, as all siblings were bound to have. But to honestly, genuinely hate each other? To see him as an enemy rather than her most trusted companion? To not have each other’s backs through thick and thin, in every trial they’d faced together? 

And to actually try to kill each other…the absurdity of the concept blew her mind.

But she and Sokka weren’t Zuko and Azula. 

“I guess not,” she said softly. Her hands moved to hover directly over the gruesome injury. “Still...I can’t believe your own sister did this to you.”

“Have you met Azula?” Zuko scoffed. 

Katara narrowed her eyes. “If you had the chance, would you kill her?”

Zuko lifted his gaze and blinked. A flicker of uncertainty touched his irises—one that scared both of them. Then his expression clouded over.

“No,” he said adamantly, swallowing. “But if she was in danger dying, I don’t know if I’d save her.”

Silence shrouded the room. In that moment, it occurred to Katara that she was doing the exact thing she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do. She was interacting with Zuko like he was a normal human being, not their sworn enemy. Not the person who had tried to imprison her friend over and over. Not the prince of the most bloodthirsty nation on the planet. She cursed herself for so carelessly letting him in, for actually feeling bad for him. 

She set her jaw and refocused her attention on his wound. She wouldn’t let herself slip again.

“We saved you,” she pointed out coldly. “Because unlike you and Azula, we’re actually good people.”

She felt Zuko tense and saw his hand curl into a fist out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t react. She continued to begrudgingly heal his injury, moving her palms along his collarbone. 

Unbeknownst to her, Zuko was actually glad she’d decided to insult him the same moment her hands changed position on his body. The feeling of the water healing his wound fanned outwards from wherever her palms touched, strange and cool and tingly—perfectly fine when it was just over his shoulder. But as she inched toward his neck, the tingly sensation started crawling up the sensitive skin, spreading underneath his chin. In an instant, the feeling went from soothing and mystical to tickling him like a feather. Zuko soon found himself clenching his teeth and coiling his muscles in attempt not to laugh, a position he had not anticipated being in. When it grew too much to handle, he jerked away, gripping his throat.

Katara winced in surprise, her water-coated hands hanging in the air. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Zuko blinked. “Um.” His face suddenly felt warm. How was he going to explain this? He rubbed his tingling skin nervously. “It just—hurt. I’m sore there.”

“Where? On your neck?” She reached toward his throat, but he flinched back from her touch. A line formed between her eyes. “Let me see. I might be able to help.”

“It’s fine,” he snapped. “I just tweaked it. It doesn’t need your freaky magic hands.” If that tingly feeling was pressed directly against his neck, he was certain he’d fall to pieces in seconds. He was embarrassingly sensitive, as Uncle had recently (and obnoxiously) discovered, and he had no desire for anyone else to find out—especially his enemies. He’d sooner let Azula fry his other shoulder than let that happen.

Fortunately for him, Katara didn’t press the issue. “Fine,” she said, letting her hands fall to her sides. “I’m done with the wound on your chest for now anyway.”

Zuko breathed a sigh of relief. Bullet: dodged.

“Now I can start on your foot.”

A spark of alarm shot up Zuko’s spine. His eyes popped open as she moved to sit by his feet.

“W-what?” he exclaimed. 

Katara gave him a questioning look. “Your foot,” she said, pointing. “It needs to be healed, too. You know, the one you can hardly put any weight on?” She gave his sole a light tap, causing dread to rise in his belly. “The lightning entered your chest, traveled down your left side, and exited out of the bottom of your left foot. The scar on it matches the one on your chest—it’s just smaller.”

Just the thought of that tingling sensation spreading across his sole was enough to make him twitchy. Zuko swallowed, worrying his thumbs in his lap. “Do you…have to heal it?” he asked timidly.

Katara frowned at him. “I mean, yeah. If you ever want to walk normally again.”

It took a moment for the change in his demeanor to catch her attention. He looked shy and fidgety all of sudden, as if he was about to give a speech but had forgotten his notes, and he was doing absolutely everything he could to avoid her gaze. His face also had a slight pink tint to it, like he’d been holding his breath. 

“Is something wrong?” she finally asked him. Zuko hesitated before shaking his head. He was doomed either way, but he refused to confess what was really going on. If he kept his mouth shut, at least there was a chance he could find the strength to stay composed—perhaps enough for her not to notice. 

Katara studied him for a few more puzzled seconds before shrugging it off and getting to work. She used one hand to hold his ankle steady while the other brought the water to his sole. The scar was in the center of the ball of his foot, just above his arch and right below his toes, which was why Zuko was having so much trouble walking on it. His leg would probably be stiff for a while, but she could heal it enough for him to at least start putting some weight on it again. 

But barely two seconds into the healing session, Zuko yanked his foot out of her grip. She flinched and looked up at him, narrowing his eyes.

“What are you doing?” she asked irritably. “I told you, you have to stay still.”

Zuko had his hands shoved under his armpits and his lips pursed tight. “Oh, r-right,” he said. His voice was pitched slightly higher than normal. When he didn’t return his foot to her, she grabbed his ankle and dragged it back to its original position. 

“Don’t move,” she demanded, and pressed her glowing palm against his sole again.

Easy for you to say! Zuko thought miserably. The tingly sensation revved back to life, sprawling down his heel and between his toes. It felt like his entire foot was being brushed with tiny, magical feathers. Even worse, it hurt to curl his arch or scrunch up his toes, so he really couldn’t move other than ripping his foot away or kicking her in the face, which he was seriously considering.

A flood giggles started building behind his lips. He twitched and snorted and slapped a palm over his mouth before tearing his foot away from her tingly touch. Katara huffed exasperatedly, balling her hands into fists.

“What is your problem?” she shouted. “What part of ‘don't move’ and ‘stay still’ do you not understand?”

Zuko’s ears felt like they were on fire. He hugged his knee skittishly, grappling for an excuse. “I don’t—I’m not trying to,” he stammered, rubbing his heel against the ground. 

“Then why do you keep doing it?”

The prince crossed his arms close to his chest. “Because—” he said, biting his lip. “I just—I don’t...like how it feels.”

Katara raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like how it feels?” she parroted mockingly. “You didn’t mind how it felt when I was healing your chest. Why is this any different?”

Zuko didn’t answer. The firebender was noticeably flustered—hands restless, shoulders hunched. Clearly there was something bothering him that he wasn’t letting on about. Katara’s expression softened.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she said, changing her tone. Zuko was in a pretty vulnerable position. Even if he was evil, he still felt pain the same way she and all her friends did. As a healer, she had to acknowledge that. She sighed levelly. “But you need to stay still so I can heal you properly.” The waterbender nodded towards his foot. “Is it hurting when I heal you? Is that why you keep jumping away?”

Zuko shook his head. “N-no, it’s not...” he mumbled, scratching his forearm nervously. His eyes stayed locked on the ground, as if it would disappear from underneath him if he dared look away. “It’s just...weird.”

“Weird?” she said.

“Yeah.”

“Weird how?”

“You know...weird.”

Katara scoffed. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Forget it,” Zuko growled, scowling between his feet. “I’ll let it heal naturally.”

“You’ll have a limp for the rest of your life if you do that.”

A grimace crawled across his face. Zuko shifted uncomfortably, weighing the two evils in his mind.

“Just tell me why you can’t keep still,” Katara insisted. “Use your words, your highness. Does it sting? Does it burn? Is it making your skin pruny? What?”

“It doesn’t matter, okay?” he snapped. “It feels weird, so I’m not staying still.” He turned away bitterly. “Why don’t you learn how to heal in a way that doesn’t feel weird?”

The waterbender stared at him with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. She placed her hands on her hips. “You’re being a spoiled little brat right now, you know that?”

Zuko continued glaring at the wall, his stomach rumbling quietly. Katara sighed.

“Fine,” she said. She stood and walked out of the tent, disappearing into the sunshine. Zuko watched her go, blinking. Had she given up? Maybe she had another way to heal him that didn’t require tingly waterbending magic. He exhaled slowly and stretched out his legs, allowing himself to relax a little. 

The moment he did, two bands of earth rose up from the ground and wrapped around his ankles, trapping his feet in place. At the same time, the wall opened up behind him and swallowed his arms from the elbows down, pinning his hands behind his back. Zuko yelped in surprise, straining against the newly formed bonds as Katara re-entered the tent, tailed by Toph.

“Hey! W-what are you doing?” He tugged and pulled to try to free his arms, grunting with effort.

Katara smirked. “Making you stay still so I can heal you, of course.” 

Zuko gawked. Uh oh. Trying not to laugh when he could pull away from the tickling sensation anytime it grew too intense was already hard enough as it was. But trying not to laugh when he couldn’t escape it at all? Not good. 

“Now I can make sure you’re up and walking again in no time.” Katara grinned at the earthbender. “Thanks, Toph.”

“Sure,” Toph replied, looming over the trapped firebender smugly. Zuko blanched, squirming even more.

“Th-this is absurd! Let me go!” The prince wrenched and fought with all his might, but it was clear he wasn’t going anywhere. He was thoroughly, entirely pinned. Even at his full strength, he doubted he’d be able to escape Toph’s rock-cuffs.

“Relax, Squirmy,” Toph chuckled. “You’re in good hands. Katara knows what she’s doing.”

She most certainly does not, he thought skittishly. Not yet, at least. And I’d really prefer to keep it that way! He twisted and turned as the Water Tribe girl sat by his feet again, reaching for his now defenseless sole. Anxiety leapt into Zuko’s throat.

“Wait!” he cried. “I’ll—I’ll be still. I promise.” He fidgeted sheepishly. “Just...let me out of this.”

Katara had no idea what was causing him to act so strange and frantic. She’d never had anyone respond to her healing sessions this way. But as entertaining as it was, she’d had enough of it. 

“I’m sure you would, Zuko,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But this guarantees it.”

With that, she pressed her palm to his foot and willed the water to mend the damaged flesh. It was a lot easier to do now that he wasn’t pulling away every two seconds.

Once she got into her usual healing rhythm, she looked up at Zuko, expecting the assuage to calm his bizarre uneasiness. Instead, she found him with his face buried in his shoulder as his cheeks burned bright red. 

“Zuko?” she said, startled. “What’s wrong?”

The prince shook his head, his body shivering like his fever had returned. He was trying his best to hide his face, but she could see enough to notice he was smiling, although it looked like he was fighting it with every ounce of his being.

“Why are you smiling?” she asked, the corners of her own lips lifting in puzzled amusement. She didn’t think she’d ever seen the grumpy firebender actually, genuinely smile before. It was a nice look on him, even when he was trying desperately to conceal it. He was also making a bunch of funny little noises—stifled squeaks and snorts he was struggling to keep at bay. At the same time, he was twitching and wriggling sporadically, as if his pants were crawling with centibeetles.

“He’s smiling?” Toph asked, mirroring Katara’s grin. Curiously, Katara’s gaze dropped to his foot. She moved her hand down his sole and gently fluttered her fingers against the center of his arch. Zuko’s wild reaction confirmed her hilarious hypothesis. 

“Ahack!” the prince yelped, his entire body going rigid. He whirled on her bewilderedly. “Dohon’t do that!”

Katara’s face lit up with delight. “No way. You’re ticklish?” She scribbled her nails toward his heel, making Zuko squeak and writhe. “Oh man! You are! That’s why you’re being so weird and squirmy!”

“S-stohop it!” Zuko giggled, a giant smile overtaking his features. Meanwhile, he was absolutely dying on the inside. This was too humiliating for words. His whole body smoldered with embarrassment while his toes twitched in protest. 

“Is my waterbending tickling you?” she wondered aloud, swirling one finger against his sole in thought, fiercely enjoying his erratic response. If there were ever a time she’d consider calling Zuko cute, it was now, when he was squealing and squirming beneath her delicate touch, flashing one of his rare (and surprisingly radiant) smiles, his face rosy with shame. She chuckled softly. “Hm. That’s new. No one’s ever told me it tickled them before. You must be really sensitive, huh?”

Thankfully, Katara did stop tickling him, but the evil smirk she drilled him with rendered him no less flustered. The damage was done, and there was no taking it back. Toph placed her fists on her hips and grinned smugly.

“Aw! No wonder he didn’t want to tell you why he couldn’t stay still. The little Fire Princey is embarrassed! How cute!”

For the second time that day, Zuko’s face turned as red as a lychee nut. He pouted timidly. 

“Sh-shut up!” he snarled. “It’s not cute!” He didn’t seem to understand the fact that the more he denied it, the less he was helping his case. 

“What’s not cute?” Aang’s chipper voice called, causing dread to shudder up Zuko’s skeleton. He and Sokka stepped through the doorway, holding bags of provisions. 

Katara giggled into her hand. “Yeah, Zuko,” she said pointedly. “What’s not cute?”

The firebender shrunk into himself shyly. Aang tilted his head to the side.

“Why is Zuko all bound up?” he asked. “Did he attack one of you?”

“He wouldn’t stay still for Katara’s healing session,” Toph explained, a mischievous glint in her faded eyes. 

Katara pressed her water-cloaked palm to his foot again, boasting a bright grin. “But we don’t have to worry about that anymore! Right, Zuko?”

If Zuko were able, he’d definitely kick her in the face right now. Unfortunately for him, all he could do was cringe and bite the inside of his cheek, battling back a wall of bubbly giggles while squirming against his restraints. 

“Why does he look like he’s about to explode?” Sokka asked, frowning.

“But like...happy explode!” Aang observed. 

Toph chuckled, unable to keep quiet any longer. “Because Katara’s water healing technique is tickling him,” she explained, feeling Zuko’s heart leap in despair. “She has to heal the exit wound on his foot, but apparently his feet are super ticklish.”

To Zuko’s dismay, two more pairs of eyes turned on his blushing, smiley self with stunned delight. Other than the Agni Kai with his father, Zuko couldn’t remember another moment in his life where he so desperately wanted to be invisible. 

“Zuko is ticklish?” Aang exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “Aw! That’s adorable!”

Zuko considered retaliating, but if he opened his mouth, laughter was the only thing coming out. Sokka snickered.

“First we discover you sleep with a traveling petting zoo, and now we find out you’re ticklish?” The Water Tribe boy tsked disappointedly. “Man. Your bad guy aesthetic has taken a major hit today, buddy.”

Aang hopped to Zuko’s left side, leaning in close to his flushed face. “If you’re tickling him, how come he’s not laughing?” he inquired. 

Katara chuckled softly. “I think he’s putting all his effort into keeping himself from laughing,” she said. “He seems determined not to let us hear it.”

A steady stream of whimpers and squeaks were escaping the flustered firebender, but he was somehow managing to stave off the tsunami of giggles. If somebody wasn’t intentionally tickling him, it seemed he was able to stay quiet, so long as all his focus was honed in on that goal.

Before Aang had a chance to remedy this injustice, Iroh appeared in the doorway of the tent, beaming with excitement.

“Zuko, look what I found!” he exclaimed, holding up his fist. “Feathers from the rare blue skink quail! Legend says if you add them to your tea, they can cure any ailment!” He eyed the long quills suspiciously. “Unless I am mistaken, and they are actually normal skink quail feathers, which are known to cause uncontrollable dysentery if consumed…”

He glanced up from his dilemma to find his nephew pinned down with shackles made of earth, looking extremely red in the face. He was surrounded by the avatar and his friends, who appeared amused by the prince’s pitiful squirming.

“Hey Iroh, did you know Zuko is ticklish?” Aang giggled. 

Iroh blinked, taken back by the sight and the question. “What are you doing to my nephew?” he asked bemusedly.

“I’m just healing him,” Katara insisted, pointing to the glowing hand on his sole. “But I guess the feeling on his foot tickles, so we had to restrain him to keep him still.” 

Iroh stared at Zuko’s twitchy toes, then at his smiling, blushing face. A stroke of endearment touched his heart. He loved seeing Zuko smile, even if the reason at the moment wasn’t to his liking. Unfortunately, the only way to get his hotheaded nephew to smile nowadays was through convoluted and unconventional methods like tickling. He tried not to use his adorable sensitivity against him too often, knowing it embarrassed the prince tremendously, but sometimes he felt he had to do it just to remind himself that Zuko was capable of joy and laughter, no matter how hard he tried to convince both of them he wasn’t. It was especially nice to see him smiling now, after nearly losing him to Azula’s attack. The thought of never seeing his nephew’s happy face again was too painful to dwell on. 

“I see,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning upward. “He’s probably not pleased you found out about his little weakness.”

“Uncle!” Zuko squeaked out before shutting back up again, clenching his teeth behind his lips. The children chuckled in delight. He was really struggling now, snickering and sputtering with his eyes squeezed shut. Not even Katara was immune to the endearing scene. She offered him a sympathetic smile. 

“You know you can laugh if you want,” she said earnestly. “I imagine it’s not easy to fight it for this long. It might actually be good for you.”

“Yeah!” Aang chirped. “It’s just like the monks always said: laughter is the best medicine.” He sat down beside him, beaming brilliantly. “Don’t be shy! Go ahead!”

Zuko shook his head adamantly, shoving his face into his shoulder as his whole body trembled and quaked. He had already been humiliated beyond all reason—he would not grant them any more satisfaction at his expense. A wry grin curled along Sokka’s lips. 

“Perhaps the stubborn prince needs a little more encouragement,” he suggested. He plucked one of the large feathers from Iroh’s fist. “Could I borrow one of these?”

“Sure,” Iroh said knowingly. “I probably won’t be using them anyway. I don’t have a great track record with concocting teas from strange things I found in the wilderness.”

Sokka skipped between his friends to sit on the firebender’s right side, opposite of Aang. “This oughta do the trick,” he said. Grinning eagerly, he held the soft end of the feather above Zuko’s torso, wiggling it threateningly. “Hey Fire Lord Spawn,” he teased him, “is your upper body ticklish too?”

Something lithe and fuzzy started brushing against his side, causing Zuko’s eyes to fly open. Horror sprawled across his face as goosebumps bubbled up from his skin.

“Ah! W-wahait! Don’t—!” He clamped his mouth shut and tried to angle his body out of the feather’s reach, but Sokka made sure the tickly bristles stayed glued to his side, gliding in the space between his hips and ribs. 

Zuko’s steely resolve was snuffed out in seconds. The sensation tickled far too much for the poor prince to take. Add that to the tingly tickles on his foot, and he knew he was done for. In real time, the four kids and the old man watched Zuko’s willpower rapidly crumble away: from whimpering to snorting to thrashing in place, until finally—

“Ehahaha!” he belted out, his cheeks glowing bright pink. He bucked and writhed, bursting with uncontrollable giggles. “Nohoheehee! Stahap!”

“Aww! There ya go!” Aang cheered.

“No way,” Toph gasped. “That’s Zuko?”

Sokka smirked triumphantly as he swooped the feather up and down the full length of the firebender’s side, drawing airy, nervous giggles from his lips. It was a softer kind of laughter compared to the time Iroh had attacked his tummy in the cave, but just as endearing—if not more so. Plus, in his current state, gentler tickling was definitely more appropriate. 

“Q-quihit it! Gehet awahay!” His eyes darted around the room, searching feverishly for a way out of this ticklish nightmare. Among the unfriendly faces, he spotted Iroh, who was watching the scene play out from the back, chuckling softly. 

“Uhuncle!” Zuko bubbled, his wide smile and bright laughter melting Iroh’s heart. He squirmed helplessly, burning from head to toe. “Mahake them stohop!”

Iroh grinned, stroking his beard. “I think the avatar is right, Prince Zuko. Laughter is a wonderful remedy for a broken body and a troubled soul. Indulging yourself in it for a little while may benefit your condition, especially right now.” 

Zuko stopped listening six words in, when it was clear he wasn’t going to help him. His mind was too occupied by the feeling of the feather delicately tracing the right side of his ribcage, causing light but frantic giggles to spill from his throat. Sokka lingered in the spot just below his underarm, teasing and stroking the exceptionally sensitive skin, then dragged the feather back down his side, fluttering the tip right above his hip bone. 

Katara chuckled along with the giggly prince, still grappling with the notion that the shrill, happy noise ringing in her ears was coming from Zuko. The typically grumpy firebender had a laugh that was both joyful and shy, like every second longer he heard himself doing it was making him all the more ashamed of it. He continued to try to muffle his giggling but was failing at every turn. The fact he was so mortified by the sound of his own laughter almost made her sad. 

“I think Prince Grouchy Butt is embarrassed of his laugh,” she observed amusedly. “Is that why you don’t do it very often?”

The blush in Zuko’s face bled down into his neck. Iroh chortled.

“He has a strict image of hostility and toughness he likes to maintain,” the old man explained. “I don’t think giggling like a child fits into that criteria.”

Sokka cooed, brushing the feather all over his belly. “Poor little Zuko, trying so hard to act tough. Too bad all it takes to shatter that facade is one wiggly feather!” He painted figure eights across his abs, noticing the sharp leap in the prince’s voice. “Hate to break it to you, but I don’t think tough guys typically have such ticklish tummies.”

“Stahap patronizing me!” Zuko demanded between giggles, doubling over as much as his restraints would allow. “Youhou’re all gonna—p-payhay for this!”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” Iroh assured him, unfazed by his nephew’s squeaky threats.

“Yeah,” Katara agreed, grinning fiendishly. “Your laugh is super cute.”

The way he looked at her, you’d think she just told him he would never walk again. Katara couldn’t help but snicker, which only made his face heat up more. Zuko fought once again to stem the waterfall of laughter from breaching his lips, but it was hopeless. The feeling of the feather teasing his bare skin was driving him mad with giggles.

“Nohot—it’s nohohot—eheeheehahahagh!”

He was so focused on the soft bristles mercilessly exploring his right side, he didn’t even notice the avatar nabbing a feather from his uncle and floating down on his left until he started swirling the soft end inside his belly button. 

“Katara’s right, Zuko! Your laugh is super cute. Now I just wanna hear more of it!”

Zuko threw his weight around and arched his spine. “Nohohahaha!” he squealed, the sensation sending shocks across his ticklish tummy. “Ahagh—s-stahap! Thahat feels so weeheeheird!”

The room buzzed with laughter. “He means it tickles,” Katara translated with a snort. “Weird is his word for when something tickles.”

His hysterical response only seemed to goad Aang’s tickling fervor. The airbender drew slow ‘Xs’ over his navel, skimming the side of the feather along the edges as he stroked the tip back and forth, all while asking in a playfully mocking voice, “Does this feel weird, Zuko? Or this? How about this?”

Meanwhile, Sokka started scratching his midriff with the quill part of the feather, which Zuko didn’t expect to tickle beyond human comprehension. But it did, making him shiver and squirm and peal into shrill, sheepish laughter. 

“Ahaha! Ihi’m—ehaha—mhmheeheehee!”

He didn’t even know what he was trying to say at this point. Every ticklish inch of him wanted to beg for mercy, but that would require sacrificing his last leg of dignity, and he was resolved not to degrade himself any further. Unfortunately, that meant he just had to endure their torment until they got bored with it, and who knew how long that would take. 

Sokka and Aang could sense the firebender was reaching his limits. They exchanged a look and eased back on their tickle attack, switching to the fuzzy sides of their feathers and giving him longer breaks between strokes. He was still wounded, after all. If this was how he reacted to being tickled by two gentle, innocuous feathers, Aang could only imagine how much he’d lose it if they started using their hands.

The prince’s laughter returned to nervous, airy giggles—the kind that made Iroh want to pinch his rosy cheeks. He twitched and flinched every time the feathers made contact with his skin, which Sokka and Aang were brushing higher and higher up his body. 

“Do you think his armpits are ticklish?” Aang wondered, stroking his feather dangerously close to his underarm, making Zuko cringe.

“Good question! Why don’t we ask him?” Sokka did the same, drawing a yelp from the firebender’s lips. “Hey Zuko, are your armpits ticklish?”

Poor Zuko was doing everything possible to guard himself, pulling his arms as close to his sides as he could, but the way he was pinned didn’t allow him to protect them completely. The remaining gaps were the perfect size for two silky feathers to slip right into and destroy him. 

“Youhou’re both soho dehead,” he giggled helplessly, straining against his bonds. 

“I can confirm his armpits are quite ticklish!” Iroh exclaimed. “In fact, they may be his worst spot.”

Zuko bared his teeth at his uncle in what he hoped resembled a snarl. “Youhou’re dead too!” he snapped, his arm muscles trembling with effort. “Traihaihaitor!”

“How ‘bout, on the count of three, we both go for his pits?” Aang proposed to Sokka with a wink.

Sokka grinned, winking back. “Ready when you are.”

Aang held his feather toward his underarm. “One....”

Sokka mirrored him, swirling the quill tauntingly. “Two…”

Zuko went pink with anticipation. He shut his eyes, squirming anxiously. “Ihi’m gonna—k-kill all of you!”

The two boys giggled at the flustered prince, drawing out the last count just for good measure. Aang smirked in delight. 

“Three!”

Both of them lunged toward the firebender without making contact. As expected, Zuko busted out laughing anyway, nervous giggles pouring from his lips.

“What’s the matter? We’re not even touching you!” Sokka teased him. 

“We’re not tickling you, so why are you laughing?” Aang concurred. They wiggled their feathers an inch away from his skin, inflicting him with phantom tickling sensations. 

Zuko was at his wit’s end with this entire humiliating affair. He continued to writhe restlessly, snickering into his shoulder. 

“You jerherks! You’re insane! Ahall of you!” He squeaked as Katara’s hand crept toward his toes, shooting tingly, tickly snakes between them. “Come on! Lehet me go already!” 

Sokka cocked his head to the side. “We’re jerks? For not tickling you?”

“Sounds to me like you’re mad that we aren’t actually tickling you,” Aang mused. 

Zuko stiffened. “W-what?”

“We were just messing with you with the whole countdown thing,” Sokka continued.

“But if you’re going to call us jerks for not tickling you…”

“Then I guess we better give the guy what he wants.”

The whole scheme was so well-rehearsed, Zuko was almost impressed. But he didn’t get to marvel at it long. A second later, two fuzzy feathers were swishing against his underarms, setting off every nerve ending in his body. 

“Ahahaheehee!” He threw his head back, cackling wildly, twisting from side to side. “N-noho! Pfftahahack! Cuhut it ahouhahahaaa!”

Hiccups began punching through Zuko’s giggle fit. It didn’t look like Iroh had been kidding. Aang drew circles in the hollow of his pit while Sokka skated his feather up and down the underside of his upper arm, rendering the prince a wriggly, squealing mess. None of them could get over just how silly and adorable their nemesis was when he was laughing like crazy and squirming away from their tickle attack. He went from angry, scary firebender to giggly little teenager with one stroke of a feather. The happy expression on his face reminded Aang of his old friend Kuzon. 

“What was it that I heard Azula’s call you?” Aang said, bopping him playfully on the nose. “Zu-Zu, right?”

“Zu-Zu?” Katara repeated, laughing out loud. “That’s so cute!”

At that point, Zuko’s entire body had turned a rosy red color. The feathers wisping against his underarms were driving him ballistic—not to mention their incessant efforts to make him blush. 

“Dohon’t cahall me thahahat!” he giggled shrilly.

“How come?” Sokka asked, fluttering his feather in the hollow of his pit. “Does Prince Zu-Zu not like his adorable little nickname?”

Iroh chuckled lightly to himself, both adoring and pitying his poor nephew. “Are you going to join the fun?” he asked Toph, offering her the last feather.

“You’re terrible,” she snorted. “I love it.” 

She snatched the quill from his hand and sat beside Katara. When the earthbender began whisking the soft bristles across his uninjured sole, Zuko’s whole leg jolted violently.

“Whaha—nohoho!” he cried. He curled his toes and flexed his foot, but it did nothing to deter Toph’s delicate and meticulous destruction of the ticklish firebender. She tickled the entirety of his sole, gauging his reactions to see which places and methods made him squirm the most. Sawing the feather between his toes ended up being her deadliest technique, leaving Zuko in writhing, squeaky stitches.

Now all four of them were teamed up on him, and Zuko was starting to lose it. The fuzzy feeling of three wiggly feathers and one tingly hand all tickling the most sensitive areas of his body at the same time was making his brain go haywire. It seemed the longer they teased his ticklish skin, the more sensitive it became to their touch, rendering him more desperate and more giggly with each passing second. 

“Thihis—ihis—ehevil!” he gasped. Every word was either punctuated by hiccups, or followed by a stretch of silent laughter—where he was giggling so much, he could hardly make a sound. 

Katara scoffed. “Did Zuko just call us evil? That’s hilarious.” She watched her friends tickle the helpless firebender to bits and chuckled at his hysterical flailing. She could hardly believe the cruel soldier she’d fought in the North Pole and the laughing teen wriggling in front of her were one and the same. It was crazy to think she actually used to be afraid of him. She could probably sit here and watch him squirm all day long and never get tired of it.   

When Aang realized Toph had joined the fray, he switched to gently tickling Zuko’s neck to give him a breather. Sokka did the same, brushing his feather in the gap of his collarbone every now and then, sending spikes of chills across the prince’s skin. 

Zuko’s giggling calmed down a tiny bit, but not as much as they expected. Aang laughed when he stroked the feather towards his ear and Zuko scrunched his head to his shoulder with a squeak. 

“You might be the most ticklish person I’ve ever met,” Aang said cheerfully. “And I’m a hundred and twelve years old!”

“You’re definitely the squirmiest person I’ve ever met,” Sokka agreed, copying the movement on Zuko’s right side, making the prince yelp and hike that shoulder to his ear.

“Stahahap it!” he giggled. He didn’t know how much more of this he could bear. His flesh tingled all over, shuddering beneath the soft, silky touch of the three fuzzy feathers, which stroked and brushed and teased his bare skin without mercy. He’d breathe fire at them if he could, but it was impossible to gather enough air in his lungs to attempt the technique when he was laughing this hard. 

The Water Tribe boy and the avatar started working in tandem to tickle whichever side of his neck was left exposed while Zuko struggled to guard himself, turning it into a fun little game of back and forth. He fought so hard not to shrink up every time they switched sides. Unsurprisingly, he failed every time. 

“You’re so cute when you try not to squirm!” Sokka laughed, stroking the feather against the back of his ear. “Go ahead, keep fighting it. I’m sure it’ll work eventually.” 

“Eheehee!” Zuko squeaked helplessly, jerking away and making Sokka smirk. “Y-you—rahat vihiper!” 

The prince was spiraling. Just when he figured things couldn’t get any worse, Aang and Sokka jumped back down to his ribs and belly, gliding the feathers all over his torso and making him want to disintegrate.

“I think this is the most fun I’ve ever had with a firebender,” Toph said, poking the quill between his toes.

“Me too,” Katara agreed. “Look how smiley and blushy he is! It’ll be hard to ever take you seriously again after I’ve seen you like this.”

Zuko shook his head feebly. It was bad enough they were tickling him to humiliating extremes, making him erupt with high-pitched laughter that he was powerless to quell no matter how much he tried to shut up. Did they really have to make fun of him as well? He couldn’t even move, let alone cover his stupid, blushing face! Talk about fighting dirty. All he could do was wriggle and squeal as they tickled him senseless, his smile as wide and bright as the sun. 

“Ahahaha! Guhuhuys!” he howled. What he would give to be an earthbender right now—or to temporarily have one on his side. 

“Based on his heart rate, he gets even more flustered when you tease him while you tickle him,” Toph observed with a grin. She stroked the feather from the bottom of his heel to the ball of his foot, wiggling it for extra effect. “Coochie-coochie-coo, Zu-Zu! Doesn’t that tickle so much? It’s okay—laugh all you want! It’s not like you can make yourself stop.” 

Aang snickered as Zuko’s ears turned a shade pinker. “Wait ‘til the whole world finds out how adorable the Fire Nation prince is when you tickle him!” he said, flitting the feather below his belly button, tickling the skin along his waistline. Based on the way bucked and yelped, he was exploring an extremely sensitive spot. But to be fair, there didn’t seem to be a lot of places on Zuko that weren't extremely sensitive.

The kids giggled in unison with the hapless prince, the joy on their faces making Iroh’s heart soft. As he watched his helpless nephew get teased and tickled out of his mind, he wished he could snapshot this moment in his memories and save it forever. Seeing the five of them laughing and goofing off together just seemed right, even if it was at Zuko’s expense. How he hoped Zuko’s time with these selfless children had changed him in some way, however small, for the better—offering him the chance to seize a new outlook on his life and his destiny. Iroh sensed the prince’s future was intertwined with the avatar’s, just not in the way he’d always imagined. Perhaps this could be his first step toward that realization.

Meanwhile, Zuko was in giggly shambles. He couldn’t handle another second of this teasy, feathery torment. He’d sworn they wouldn’t get him to beg, but that was the only way out of this he had left in his arsenal. He doubted it would work; it would probably just give them more fuel for their ‘let’s humiliate Zuko’ party. But he was out of options, and his head was starting to spin, and Uncle obviously wasn’t going to save him. He had to try.

“Ohokay!” he cried, breathless and defeated. He barely had the energy to twitch anymore; he was basically just lying there and taking it, tears glinting in the corners of his eyes. “Pleehease—please stahap! I cahan’t… m’g-gehetting…dihizzy…”

Iroh stepped forward to say something, but thankfully, he didn’t have to. All of them immediately stopped tickling Zuko, dropping their arms to their sides and watching the firebender sag with relief, airy giggles still slipping from lips as he fought to catch his breath.

“Gah...heh...uhugh…” He hung his head low, panting lightly. Even though the feathers were no longer tickling him, his skin itched and tingled in all the places they’d perused, and bubbly butterflies continued to dance in his belly. He was also mortified to his core, and probably would be for the rest of his existence, which wasn’t great. He couldn’t wipe the goofy smile off his face just yet. “Myhy…sihides…” he whined. 

“See? All you had to do was ask nicely,” Toph said, grinning.

“Poor Zuko,” Sokka cooed, poking one of his bright red cheeks. “I’ve never seen anyone blush so much for so long before.”

He lolled out of his reach skittishly, fuming with embarrassment. “Stohop,” he whimpered. “Y-you’re all...psyhychos…”

Aang giggled with his hands on his hips. “We really got you good, huh? It was nice to see you look so happy for once. Maybe all that laughing will help you recover faster!” 

“If the laughing doesn’t help, hopefully my healing will,” Katara said, holding up her glowing palm. Zuko winced.

“Ugh...pleehease tell me you’re done with that,” he said weakly. Katara chuckled. 

“What, healing your foot?” she asked. She dragged one finger up the side of his arch. “Oh, yeah. I finished that, like, eight minutes ago.”

A startled giggle leapt from Zuko’s throat, making the four friends cackle and the prince’s ears burn. The moment they settled down, Zuko's stomach let loose a pitiful roar, causing them to crack up all over again.

“Oh man! You still haven’t eaten yet, have you?” Aang poked at his rumbling belly, making Zuko squirm and squeak. “Aw! You’ve got to be totally wiped! That was mean of us. We should’ve fed you first.”

“Quihit messing with me!” Zuko snapped, twitching and snickering beneath the avatar’s tasering fingertips. “Just...lehet me go already!”

“Are you going to attack us if we do?” Sokka asked dubiously. “You did say you were going to kill us before. Like, a lot.”

“Ihi’m seriously considering it!” he growled between giggles. “It’s whahat you deserve!”

Aang clicked his tongue in disapproval. “You might want to rethink your answer on that, your highness.” He sat beside the fettered prince and reached around his back, curling his hands around his tummy, grinning mischievously. “Because if you don’t promise you aren’t gonna hurt any of us after we let you go, I’m not going to stop doing this.”

To Zuko’s horror, the avatar started squeezing both sides of his bare torso, drilling his fingers deep into his flesh, jumping between his hips, his belly, his ribs, his pits, holding absolutely nothing back. Zuko jolted and shrieked, twisting and bucking uselessly, his laughter shooting to an entirely new octave of hysterical.

“AHAHAHAHAAA!” he screeched. “GAHA—S-STAHAHAHAP! IHIHEEHEEHAHAHAGH!”

“Whoa,” Toph whistled. “That’s new.”

“Let’s try again,” Aang said, feigning innocence. “Are you going to attack us once we release you, Prince Zuko?” He needled between each individual rib bone with deadly precision, then burrowed into the dips of the firebender’s hips. 

Zuko thrashed and hiccuped, frantically trying to get the words out between bouts of wild cackling. “NOHOHAHAHAY—I WOHON’T! AHAHAHAY PRAHAHAMISE!” He didn’t think anything could ever tickle as badly as Aang’s ten fingers digging into his upper body did at that moment. The fact he couldn’t do anything to guard himself or wiggle away made it so unimaginably worse than any other time he’d been tickled. As carefree and goofy the twelve-year-old avatar could be, this was downright cruel. He was certain he would die if he didn’t stop. Laughter erupted from the teen like adorable, desperate lava. “PLEEHEEHEASE—NOHO—MOHOHOREHAHA!”

“That’s more like it!” Aang said jubilantly. He lifted his hands off the prince’s tummy and floated to his feet, grinning with triumph. “You can let him go now, Toph.”

Toph punched her fists toward the ground, and the rock restraints retracted from his ankles. A second later, she pounded her heel against the earth, freeing his arms from the wall. Zuko celebrated his newfound freedom by immediately shrinking into a tiny ball, hugging himself around the middle with his knees pulled to his chest, giggling dazedly as he fought to tame his breathing. The others watched him with smiles on their faces. They couldn’t help but be endeared.

“Are you all right, Prince Zuko?” Iroh eventually asked, crossing the room to kneel beside him. He laid a hand on his shoulder, which was beginning to bounce less and less. 

“Myhy everything hurts…” he wheezed, but the smile refused to leave lips. He looked up at Iroh, woozy and flushed. “Why didn’t you...hehelp me…?”

Iroh smiled and wrapped him into a hug. Zuko groaned into his shirt but didn’t have the strength to pull away. 

“I’m sorry,” Uncle said, rubbing his back. “But you know how much I love hearing you laugh. When Azula’s struck you, I thought I might never get to hear it again.” He squeezed him a little tighter. “Seeing you happy fills me with so much joy. I try to soak it in every time I get the chance.”

“I’m nohot happy,” he grumbled, voice muffled by the fabric. Iroh chuckled.

“I know you’re not,” he said, giving his side a gentle pinch. “But I hope one day you will be, so I can hear you laugh without resorting to this.”

Zuko flinched and squeaked, shoving him away with as much muscle as he could muster. “Ahack! Uncle!” He clamped his palms over his sides, blushing furiously. “Ehenough! I am so done with all of you!” He pouted at the ground, shoulders hunched, ears pink with embarrassment. “Just...leave me alone...” 

“Sorry, Zuko,” Katara giggled. “We may have gone a little overboard. We’ve just never seen that side of you before. It was sweet.”

Zuko didn’t feel like acknowledging or interacting with any of them right now—maybe for the rest of time. He was too flustered and humiliated by what had just transpired to even begin to decide how to handle it. The sound of his laughter blared shrilly in the back of his mind, mortifying him to no end. Even after being tickled by Uncle not too long ago, he could still hardly believe how loud and hysterical his own laughter could get—that that silly, squeaky noise he was hearing was somehow coming from his own body. It was as if he was possessed by some girly-voiced ghost every time someone tickled him. It was relentlessly embarrassing. 

“Don’t feel bad,” Toph said, swiping her arms toward her feet. Two hands made of earth stretched down from the roof and grabbed hold of Sokka and Aang’s wrists, hoisting them over their heads.  

“Hey!” Aang cried.

“What the—?”

Toph stepped between the boys and tickled their exposed sides, making both of them squirm and laugh shrilly. “They act all high and mighty now, but they’re just as ticklish as you are.”

“Ehahaha! Tohoph!” Aang squealed.

“GAHAHASTAHAHAPIT!” Sokka shrieked, flailing around like a beached elephant coy. 

“Or perhaps even more so,” Toph corrected herself smugly. She released them from her hold and shoved them both aside. They staggered in opposite directions, blushing deeply and thoroughly chagrined. 

Zuko stared between the avatar and the Water Tribe boy. He had to admit, seeing them flustered did make him feel slightly better about this entire nightmarish affair. It also helped that he’d finally caught his breath and was no longer bubbling with giggles. He decided if he had to pick someone in their group to hate the least, it was Toph. Even if she kind of terrified him.

She scooped one of their bags of provisions off the floor and tossed it into Zuko’s lap. “Here—eat,” Toph said. “The sound of your stomach growling is driving me insane.”

Zuko flinched in surprise and eyed the offering warily. He dug around inside and found some bread, a couple strips of salmon jerky, and a weird, round fruit he didn’t recognize. His mouth watered at the prospect of finally getting to eat without yesterday's queasiness holding him back. 

“What’s this?” he asked, holding up the fruit skeptically. 

“Honey plum,” Toph answered. “Have you never had one before? They only grow in the southern Earth Kingdom.”

Zuko shook his head. Iroh plucked it out of his hand with a grin.

“A honey plum! What a treat! These are delicious, Prince Zuko. You must try it.”

He handed it back to him excitedly. Zuko frowned at the bluish-purple fruit before taking a hesitant bite. As he chewed, a sparkle of surprise touched his golden eyes.

“Wow,” he said, swallowing. “That is really good.” He bit into it again, this time with far less reluctance, munching eagerly to qualm his ravenous hunger. It was sweet and juicy, the swirl of bright flavors bursting like firecrackers on his tongue. He was so focused on feeding the monster in his gut, he didn’t look up for a while. But when he did, he was startled to find everyone staring at him.

“Why are all of you...watching me?” he mumbled over his mouthful, shrinking uncomfortably. “I feel like some kind of zoo animal.”

“No reason,” Aang said, grinning. “We’re just happy you like it!”

“You eat like Sokka at the Glacial Spirits Festival,” Katara giggled. “I expected the Fire Nation prince’s manners to be a tad more dignified.”

Warmth rushed back into the firebender’s cheeks. “I’m hungry!” he retorted defensively. “I haven’t eaten in almost a day and a half! What do you want me to do—stick out my pinky and curtsy with every bite?”

“Yes,” Sokka said enthusiastically. “Absolutely yes.”

Zuko huffed, nibbling at the plum self-consciously. “Why do you people insist on making me feel weird about everything I do?”

“Cuz it’s fun,” Toph snickered. “You’re so easy to fluster.”

Zuko bristled. “No I’m not!”

Katara tapped her chin in thought. “When you say ‘weird,’ do you mean the normal definition of weird, or do you mean your definition of weird, which is that something tickles?”

The prince reddened and avoided their gazes, knowing there was no answer to that question that worked in his favor. 

“See? Like that,” Toph laughed, noting the spike in his heart rate. Zuko crossed his arms and stared sideways, hating having all their attention focused on his blushing self for so long. 

“Don’t feel weird,” Aang insisted, cramming a handful of berries in his mouth. “Eat as much as you like—and as messily as you like! You deserve to porcupig out a little.”

“I’m sure he’s just tickled by our kindness and hospitality,” Sokka said, wiggling his feather at him teasingly.

Zuko grimaced and jabbed two fingers forward. In a puff of flame, Sokka’s feather disintegrated in his hand, making him gawk.

“Hey! No fair!”

Katara watched her brother mourn the loss of his new weapon amusedly, then stepped toward the skittish firebender. “Come on,” she said, offering him a hand. “Let’s see if you can walk any better after your healing session.”

Zuko glanced between her palm and her face uncertainly before accepting her help, letting the waterbender pull him to his feet. Iroh stood with him, holding out his hands in case he fell. 

The prince wobbled a little once he was upright but didn’t need anyone’s support to stay that way. He flexed and stamped his left foot, delighted by the lack of pain that followed.

“It’s better,” he said, pleasantly surprised. “A lot better.” He braved a couple steps forward. He still had a limp, but he could finally walk on his own again, if only for a little while. 

“Good,” Katara said. “I can heal you again if anything starts hurting badly, but you mostly need lots of rest.”

He met her gaze gingerly. He didn’t want to say it, but he felt like he had to. “Thank you,” he murmured, the words grating his throat as they left his lips.

The girl smiled and nodded. Toph pounded her foot into the ground, making the tent collapse around them and sink back into the earth, startling Zuko tremendously. 

“I’m hungry too now,” she announced, lifting their campfire off the ground and placing it in the center of their group with earthbending. She snatched the bag of berries from Aang and gobbled down the rest. “Iroh, would you mind making us some more of that jasmine tea?”

Iroh beamed. “Yes! Of course!” He ran and grabbed his pot and the leaves. “Tea always tastes better when it is brewed and shared with others.”

While Zuko watched his uncle enter his tea-making trance, Toph grabbed the honey plum from his hand and shoved it in his mouth, making the firebender grunt in muffled surprise. “Eat, Princey,” she snapped. “Food doesn’t last long around here. Take what you can get before someone else horks it down.”

Zuko pulled the plum out of his mouth and chewed sourly. He hadn’t realized just how tiny the earthbender was until now, when he was standing over her, practically craning his neck to look her in the eye. 

And suddenly, everyone was settling down around the fire, taking and eating and acting like this whole bizarre situation was perfectly normal. At least he wasn’t the center of attention anymore, though it felt like he should be; they were being far too trusting, letting him stand so close so freely now that he had some of his strength back. He swept his gaze around the circle with a puzzled frown. Hesitantly, Zuko sat among them, listening to the criss-crossing conversations as he finished off the honey plum and started in on the bread. 

“When do we start my earthbending training?”

“You sure you’re ready, Twinkle Toes? Being an earthbender takes guts and grit like you’ve never seen.”

“Definitely!”

“Pass me some of that sun melon, Sokka. Momo’s getting fussy.”

“Sure. Here, Zuko—have some too.”

Sokka casually handed Zuko a slice before giving the rest to Katara. Zuko took it reluctantly, gave it a sniff, then munched on the fruit, glancing warily between the others, feeling odd and out of place, like an unacknowledged elephant rhino in the room. 

But also...strangely content. 

As he tended to the tea, Iroh watched his nephew with a small smile. He wished Zuko could see how well he fit with these kids rather than in a toxic palace in the Fire Nation capital. He wished he could see how relaxed he looked here versus how tense he was beneath the scrutinizing gazes of Azula and his father. He wished he could stay with them, reject the false path Ozai had set him on, and find his own destiny with these kind, goofy children.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You must leave tonight—all of you.”

The four friends stood before the old man in disbelief, the setting sun reflecting in their wide eyes. Behind them, Zuko slept by the fire, his back rising and falling steadily.

“Leave?” Aang said, blinking. “What for?”

“What’s going on?” Toph asked.

Iroh bowed his head, his voice grim. “Now that he is getting better, there’s a possibility my nephew may try to pull something unfavorable against you and your friends. I want you all gone before he gets the chance.”

Katara took a step back, her eyes clouding over with rage. “What? Did he tell you he was planning something?”

“No,” Iroh insisted. “He hasn’t mentioned anything like that.” A grimace gnarled his features. “But I know my nephew. He needs more time before he is ready to fully realize his destiny. He is still extremely lost, hurt, and confused, and I do not want any of you to suffer because of it.” He sighed softly. “I don’t believe he will try anything, but...I’m not willing to risk it. Not after everything you’ve done for us.”

Sokka eyed Zuko’s slumbering form, then turned back to Iroh. “So...we should just...go? Right now?”

The old man nodded somberly. “I think that would be best.”

“But what if he needs more healing sessions?” Katara asked. “He’s still really weak.”

“I can take care of him,” Iroh said, his expression softening. “I’ve done it before. I am more than capable of doing it again.”

Toph shifted her weight between her feet. “He’ll be upset when he finds out we’re gone.” 

Perhaps in more ways than one, she considered. They had only just begun to peel back the layers of the person they knew as Zuko, peering into the heart of the troubled but not entirely unsalvageable individual he was. Leaving now felt like dumping all of that progress down the drain, reverting back to their old shtick of pursuer and prey. Oddly enough, it almost felt...treacherous. 

The old man hinted a smile. “He will be okay. Do not worry yourselves for my nephew’s sake. You have all already helped both of us more than we deserve.” He bowed respectfully, his hands clasped inside his sleeves. “Good luck on your journey, young avatar. May the spirits guide you and your friends. I sincerely hope we meet again soon, under more desirable circumstances.”

Aang hesitated for a moment before bowing back. He didn’t know how Zuko would react if they told him beforehand that they were leaving. Probably not favorably. Still, it felt strange, abandoning the two of them without a proper goodbye. 

“I hope so too,” he said. He raised his head and met Iroh’s gaze. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Iroh glanced over his shoulder. “I’m lucky to have him, too,” he said. Icy sadness tugged at his chest. He fought not to let it bleed across his face. 

“Keep trying to, I don’t know, ‘lead him into the light’ or whatever.” Sokka shrugged. “For what it’s worth, I have way more faith in him than I do Azula.”

The old man shuddered. “Me too,” he breathed.

Katara stared at her feet. “I hope...he changes,” she managed to say, looking awkward and conflicted.

Iroh nodded once, his expression warm. “He will,” he said. Then he exhaled slowly. “Go. I wish each of you the best this world has to offer.”

The four kids smiled sullenly, then dispersed to pack their things. They left on Appa thirty minutes later, the two firebenders shrinking smaller and smaller before vanishing behind the horizon, a collective ache hanging over them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You let them go?”

Iroh sat by the edge of the river, legs crossed with a cup of tea in his hand. Zuko stood over him, boiling with anger.

“I did not ‘let them go,’ Iroh assured him, breathing in the dewey morning aromas. “They were here when I went to bed. When I woke up, they were gone.”

It wasn’t lying, technically. Just strategic withholding of information. Zuko groaned in frustration.

“I can’t believe this!” he yelled, stomping in circles. “Why would they just leave like that?”

Uncle sipped his tea calmly. “Why wouldn’t they? They healed you, fed you, gave you a place to sleep. Now that you are doing better, there was no reason for them to stick around.” 

Zuko buried his face in his hands. “The avatar was sleeping right next to us! We could’ve captured him and dragged him off without any of them noticing!”

“Another valid reason for them to leave,” Iroh pointed out. “I’m sure they feared you would try something like that, even after they saved your life.” He sighed contently. “We’re lucky they simply left us in peace, rather than taking us prisoner.”

He hated how well his uncle was taking all of this—and how accurate all of his rebuttals were. Zuko kicked a pine cone into the river. 

“It could take weeks to track them down again! Ugh!” He sunk to the ground, griping and grumbling incoherently. 

“I am surprised you are so shocked that they left,” Iroh said, raising an eyebrow. “We are still their enemies, after all. They never had an obligation to help us in the first place. What reason would they have to stay with us after they healed you?”

To be honest, Zuko wasn’t sure why he was so stunned by it, either. Of course they had left. That was the smart thing to do. If he were in their position, he wouldn’t have stayed, either. Now that he could walk, he was capable of committing all kinds of malicious crimes against them—as he’d done many, many times in the past. 

But the weird thing was, he hadn’t planned to do anything like that.

At first, sure, maybe. When he was hurting all over and seething with anger and resentment. But after speaking with each of them, forming those little connections he never thought possible, things had changed. His usual appetite for causing them pain had gradually dwindled away. Capturing the avatar and hauling him back to his father was starting to sound more like an unsavory obligation rather than something he actually wanted to do. 

He was still mad at them for that mortifying stunt they pulled in the tent yesterday, but not in the way he expected. It was beginning to feel more like a “you got me, now I’ve got to get you back” kind of mad—the innocent, playful kind he and Azula had for each other whenever they pranked one another as kids. Now, he would never get the chance. 

“I guess there is no reason,” Zuko admitted bitterly, hugging his knees. “I’m just...frustrated.”

“It’s okay to be angry,” Uncle said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But it’s important that you recognize why you’re angry, because I don’t think the reason is what you believe it to be.”

Zuko eyed him suspiciously. “What are you talking about?”

Uncle’s hand moved to his back, steadying him in the comforting way it had done a thousand times. “Why are you upset they left, Prince Zuko?”

The young firebender frowned. He didn’t know why Uncle was asking him this—the answer was obvious.

“Because now I have to find them again to capture the avatar,” he said, although it sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

Iroh hummed thoughtfully. “That’s it? No other reason?”

“What other reason would there be?” Zuko shot back. 

Uncle stirred his tea, the spoon clinking against the sides of the cup. “They were kind to you. Rather than ignoring you or berating you, they chose to interact with you in a warm, friendly manner. They didn’t treat you like a dangerous Fire Nation soldier; they saw you as a person who needed their help. They are all very good people.”

Zuko scoffed. “They were not kind to me. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You have rarely ever been around kids your age outside of the Fire Nation—especially ones that care so openly about one another.” He sipped his drink and stared across the river. “You fit in well among them.”

“What are you trying to say?” Zuko snapped, feeling hot and nervous and furious all at once. “That I miss them? That I want to be friends with the avatar and his obnoxious cronies? You’re insane, Uncle. I—I hate them! They’re the most insufferable people in the entire world! And my enemies!”

Iroh didn’t react to his tirade. He simply laid his hand on his nephew’s head, scratching at his short, fuzzy hair. Zuko went stiff, startled by the affectionate contact, debating whether or not to jerk away. He hated to admit it, but it felt...nice.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to befriend good people, regardless of your past or theirs. Not everything is as rigid and definite as you might think.”

Zuko blinked. His entrails felt like a bundle of knots. His throat grew sore and tight. The ache inside him was sickening familiar, and he hated himself for feeling it in this situation. He tried to will it away, to loathe it out of existence. But it was there, cold and stinging.

The pain of being left. 

He hadn’t had a head of hair to pet since he was thirteen. All Zuko wanted was to lean into Uncle’s touch and let him scratch his scalp forever. Instead, he ducked out of Iroh’s reach, clambering to his feet. 

“You’ve officially lost your mind,” he growled, running his fingers through his hair irritably. Uncle stood by his side, a somber smile on his face. His nephew’s walls held strong, but they were weakening every day. He still needed more time, more patience, but the old man had hope.

“Come, Prince Zuko,” he said. “Now that you’re feeling better, it is time to resume your firebending training.”

Zuko turned to face him, his scowl melting into a look of excitement. “Wait—really?”

Iroh nodded. “It is time you moved on to the advanced set, and learned how to defend yourself against people like Azula.” He assumed a steady stance and pointed two fingers toward the sky. “Do this motion with me.”

The prince stepped in front of him and mirrored his movements. He still couldn’t fully extend his left arm, but he tried his best to copy Uncle’s form. “What are you going to show me?” he asked eagerly.

Iroh grinned. “A firebending technique that I developed by studying waterbenders, one that neither Azula, Ozai, or any other firebender except me can do.” His eyes twinkled defiantly. “How to redirect lightning.”

[captainjimothycarter]

Trope meme for Steggy 48. Fake dating and 60. Poorly timed confession

This is...whatever my brain came up with.

“Are you alone?”

Steve looked up from where he was sketching in the notebook, running a hand through his hair. He knew her - the bright-eyed woman above him. She looked stunning with her hair perfectly pinned to mimic Victorian Curls and bright red lips. Her hazel eyes looked to be searching his, almost frantic and nervous. He could see how she struggled not to look behind her.

He did for her, seeing a bunch of frat boys from their classes clambering around the front entrance to the diner. A nasty feeling in his gut told him they were also around back.

She spoke without moving her lips too much, holding onto her jacket like she might take a seat and Steve could easily put the two and two together. They thought she was meeting him here and on the off chance she wasn’t, they were going to pounce.

They were waiting for her to exit and while Peggy was amazing in the classroom with her snappy comebacks and sass and putting the sexist pigs in their place, there was no way she could fight off the five, if not more, boys waiting for her.

And he knew she could throw a punch after watching her sock Hodge, the leader of this group, in the face after a nasty comment and accidentally caught an elbow in his gut when he was behind her in the library.

She was still waiting for an answer, her face carefully poised.

“I-no, I mean…” He flinched at his own words and Peggy gave a small laugh. “I mean, yes I am. I’m here alone. Here.”

He helped her sit down, feeling how shaken she was under his fingertips and waving to the waitress. Angie instantly came by, putting down a few drinks and a basket of fries and winking at Steve as she left.

“I-didn’t, I wouldn’t ever order for you, I mean…” Peggy’s brow rose and Steve swallowed slightly. “I just...she just did that.”

Peggy laughed again, sounding more relieved this time as she picked up a fry and bit into it. “Angie is just like that. Always insisting she’s miss matchmaker. You’re Steve, right? From my history and French class?”

“Yeah, and just about any other time I’m in the library. Are you alright? What the hell are those guys doing outside?”

They were still waiting, passing a bottle back and forth, still glaring at the window. He got an icky, nasty feeling as he looked out at them.

“Being douchebags,” she huffed. “Hodge, it seems doesn’t like that I scored higher than him in our last test in History nor does he like it that I socked him in the face after that nasty comment about my brother. I’m surprised I didn’t get expelled for that one.”

She seemed to eye the way Steve’s ears turned a shade of pink but didn’t say anything as he picked up a fry and twirled it around his fingers.

“I’ve been hearing them talk all week about it. He’s in my biology class too, unfortunately. Dumb as a sack of rocks, that one. He has some pretty transphobic views too.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Unsurprisingly. I wonder how the hell he even got into the university in the first place.”

“Oh, his dad donates a hell of a lot to the college and bribed the board members.” Realizing how sure of himself he sounded, Steve cleared his throat. “Or so I’ve heard. So, Hodge is pissed about that so he decided to what? Track you down?”

“So to speak, yes. He wanted to show me a lesson. In what a sexist asshole he is, then that’s already done. I ran to the first public place I saw and saw you sitting here, I hope that’s okay. I’m not ruining anything am I?”

She sounded generally concerned and Steve had to force himself to put down his drink to meet her eyes. Under his yellow light, he could make out the hints of gold reflecting in them. “No, no. I was just wasting time. I didn’t feel like being by myself in the dorm while Sam and Bucky are on their date. Plus, Angie is good company. Sometimes.”

“I heard that!”

Steve and Peggy both laughed at the shout from the kitchen.

--

It was close to two in the morning by the time the pair had decided to leave. Steve hadn’t even noticed how their hands were joined together, having reached for the same salt shaker. They’d never pulled them apart.

They had talked about everything from classes, to how Professor Coulson was heard to be the worst and best teacher, their families, even if Steve was reluctant on his.

And the guys still waited, growing increasingly impatient and nasty in their looks.

It didn’t surprise Steve when the door kicked open and a very drunk Hodge stood there. Peggy stood up instantly, half shoving Steve behind her.

“Carte-r-r-r-” He stumbled a few steps and stood face-to-face with her and Steve had to give Peggy props, she didn’t even flinch as he burped. “I got a b-bone to pick with you!”

The second he went to touch her, Steve jumped to his feet and shoved Hodge back, sending him tumbling back. Somehow the broad bastard kept his balance.

“You lil’ scrimp!” The man was yelling now, charging after Steve until he sidestepped the idiot and it sent him hitting the table head-first.

Steve snorted.

“What? You two datin’ now?” He glared between Peggy and Steve like they were nothing but dog shit under his boot. “Always knew you liked wimpy guys, that why you never went out with me, Carter?”

Peggy huffed. “I never went out with you, Hodge because you’re an arrogant, sexist pig who can’t count down from ten without being confused. Or answer a basic question. How you tie your shoes together, I’m unsure. And for your information yes we are.”

She pulled Steve in by his shoulders, laying a swift kiss on his temple.

“You ain’t gonna get high grades that way, Carter! Suckin’ the dick of the dean of the college’s kid!”

“You’re the dean’s kid?” Peggy had spun around to look at Steve, ignoring Hodge when he stumbled back to them.

Steve could feel his face heating up and nod. “Yeah, uh, Chester Phillips is my step-dad and he hates this son of a bitch here.”

“Only bitch I see is you!” Hodge went to snarl at Steve, any advancements he made were blocked off by Peggy’s fist to his throat. It dropped him down fast.

The guy was wheezing and Steve couldn’t even feel bad, even as flashing blue lights indicated Angie must’ve called the police. “Next time,” Angie told them as she handed Peggy a stun gun. “Use this on the bastard. He runs his mouth too much.”

--

Steve was exhausted. It was near four in the morning by the time they’d got back on campus. Hodge had been promptly for a combination of things, including assault and underage drinking, not to mention most of his crew taken with him.

They’d stayed late to help clean up the mess and give their statements, but still, Peggy hadn’t said a word about Dean Phillips being his step-dad. Even as they were walking up to her dorm.

“So,” Steve sighed as they stopped outside of her room. “I guess you don’t want to see me anymore?”

Even with the bags under her eyes, she looked beautiful, if not confused. “And why wouldn’t I, Steve? Because your step-dad is the dean of the college? Or because I told Hodge we were dating?”

His shoulders shrugged. “Both, I guess. I just…” He made a noise in the back of his throat.

“What you did tonight, standing up for me, to an idiot like Hodge was very brave and I thank you.” She smiled as she bends down to barely brush her lips over his. “As for who your step-dad is… I don’t care. I know you got in on your marks, on your smarts, as did I. Even if we were to date, it would be because I like you, not for Phillips.”

The kiss had all but frazzled his brain, catching odd ends of her sentence. “Wait - like me…? You-you, like me?”

Peggy couldn’t help the small laugh. “I have since our first group assignment together.”

Right. That was…news to him, but it made sense with the knowledge that Peggy always seemed ready to ask him something before changing the topic.

“I...I uh...would you want to...go out sometime then? A proper date.”

“Only after this gal has had some sleep. Thank you for everything, Steve. Shall we say...noon tomorrow?”