#wanted to work out despite this stupidly long flare up

[villain-enthusiast]

Hi Hello!! Would you please continue the snippet of villain finding hero dying? A lot of whump and caretaking would be great! (By the way.. just wanted to say this...I love your work!!)

so glad u enjoyed! hope this is also to your liking ☺️

part one

.

The hero came to with a start.

They shifted, groaning as their stiff muscles and joints ached. But they noticed that their body was comfortable, sinking into a soft mattress and swaddled in thick blankets—

Wait, what?

They blinked several times as fragmented memories flashed through their head, The blinding pain of the stab wound. Their broken comms. Blood, too much blood. They were going to die without help…

The villain. The villain finding them in the alleyway, gathering them up in their arms—

“You’re awake.”

The hero jolted, head whipping to the bedside, where the villain had apparently stood up from the chair behind them.

How long had they been waiting there?

They moved to prop themselves up, but the villain’s hands were immediately on their shoulders, gently urging them back down onto the stupidly comfortable bed.

“Don’t move too much. You’ll break the stitches,” the villain warned. They pulled the blanket covering the hero’s torso away to examine the bandages wrapped around their side.

It was then the hero realized that they had been scrubbed clean and given a new pair of sweatpants, every cut and scratch from their recent altercation carefully dressed.

Their eyes met the villain’s in silent questioning.

You did all this for me?

“I swear I didn’t look,” the villain blurted suddenly. “When I was bathing and changing you. I didn’t—.” They cut themselves off awkwardly, cheeks a little pink.

Oh, that’s not… Despite themselves, the hero smiled, or what they could attempt as a smile. Their jaw was incredibly sore from being socked twice in one day.

They opened their mouth to speak, to tell the villain that it was fine and that what they really meant was thank you—

The villain shushed them. “You have some bruising on your neck. It’ll hurt to talk. You should just rest.”

The hero scowled at them. “I—,” they attempted, and immediately regretted their choice as their swollen throat flared up.

The villain gave them a "told you so" look, and the hero leveled another glare at them.

It suddenly occurred to the hero how helpless they were. Can't move, can't speak. If the villain wanted to kill them, now would be the chance. Luring them into a false sense of security, giving them one last taste of comfort before—

“I just saved your fucking life. Stop looking at me like that.”

The hero frowned. Like what? they mouthed.

“Like you think I’m gonna kill you or something. I can be a half-decent person sometimes, y’know," the villain said. Their expression softened. “I’m not a monster.”

The villain's gaze flickered with something the hero couldn't quite place as they watched each other in comfortable silence. It was an understanding, in that moment, that the villain was not going to kill them, and that they had meant everything they said and more.

I couldn’t just leave you to die in that alleyway.

The villain sighed and turned to leave the room. Panic shot through the hero—they needed to say something to the villain, damn their throat—and before they could think twice about it, they reached out and took the villain’s hand in their own. Rough calluses from what was likely decades of training scraped against their palm.

The villain stared at them, but they didn’t pull away. Their fingers wrapped gently around the hero’s, cautious. Expectant.

“Thank you,” the hero croaked, “for saving me.”

The villain was silent for several heartbeats, watching the hero with those dark—so beautifully dark—eyes.

They took a breath, as if readying themselves for whatever they were going to say. “You mean too much to me," they finally said, voice low. "I'm not ready to let you go." Their hand lingered on the hero's, as if to seal their statement, to make a promise and keep it.

Then they released their hold, and the hero wished they could tell them to stay—that they wanted them to stay—but the villain was already closing the door behind them, and fatigue overtook them before they could process anything else.

When the hero awoke the next morning, the villain was nowhere to be found. But in the chair by their bedside, they found a fresh set of clothes, a cup of water, and a note:

Be back soon. - Villain

And though their jaw still ached, the hero smiled, fully and wholly.

[willowser-but-nsfw]

and if i said incubus bakugou. what then.

because think about coming home after a long, infuriating day of work; you're tired, your back hurts, you're hungry, you're sick of being in these stinky work clothes — and all you want is a shower.

so you go to run yourself the hottest one known to man, tossing your clothes haphazardly on the floor because you're irritable and want to be a bit of a brat because you couldn't be one at work. you get all the way through washing your hair, are rinsing the soapy suds off your body when you're finally starting to calm down. thinking about what to eat for dinner, if you'll get that takeout you've been thinking about all week. you think you deserve it.

and then a heavy hand is banging against the glass of the shower.

"jesus christ!" you hiss, curving into yourself as if he hasn't seen you naked multiple times now. on the other side, bakugou is glaring at you, his own arms folded like the GROUCH that he is. "what the hell is wrong with you?"

he ignores the question. "y'gonna let me in?"

the sight of his stupidly handsome, supernatural face has you gritting your teeth, mouth twisting into a scowl as he yanks the door open anyway. "since when have you ever needed my permission to do anything?"

bakugou bares his little fangs, temper flaring like the black wings that threaten to stretch out behind him. you hope they don't; you're tired of having to pick up everything he knocks over. "hah?" he hisses, crowding you into one side of the shower because of how big he is. "don't act like you ain't been begging me to fuck—"

"alright!" you snap, cheeks heating. his own nose scrunches up — in disgust, maybe — and you can't stand to look at how horrifyingly beautiful he is, so you turn away. after a minute of awkward silence, with him just looming behind you, you ask, "have you figured out how i can get rid of you yet?"

several bottles clatter to the floor.

"you're the one that fuckin' summoned me here, brat—"

"and i was trying to summon up some goddamn money!" you turn to glare at him over your shoulder, eyes dipping down when you see his totally normal and equally as handsome human form, as he collects your shampoo and conditioner from the ground. "it was an accident."

"yeah," he grumbles, "so you've said."

you turn away again as he rises back to his full height — still otherworldly, despite his disguise. the deep red in his eyes always makes you shiver, both terrifying and oddly sexy. "well," you pout, though he can't see it. "don't act like you haven't been enjoying it, too."

"that's my whole point, shitty human!"

you're demon-handled around rather roughly, as is typical, and he's got you spun to face him, back pressed against the shower tile as he gets all in your face. his blonde hair is flat against his head, dark eyelashes heavy and sticking together, making his eyes seem that much bigger and brighter.

you take the chance to commit his face to memory; most of the time, you either can't keep your eyes open to look at him or don't want to, because he's so incredibly infuriating.

— but so up close, you see the deep, unhappy lines of his face, how far down his eyebrows arch. his lips tremble, just the slightest, in their frown.

"that's my whole fuckin' point," he tells you again, quietly. "'s'all 'm good for."

it's startling enough that you feel — bad. guilty, like you're taking advantage of him in some way, though it's always him that's appearing on his knees in your kitchen or waking you up in the middle of the night with his hand in your underwear. you feel like you should offer some kind of comfort to him, despite the menace he's been, because you have found relief from the world with him. many times.

but the moment passes and before you can think of anything to say, bakugou's eyes are hardening and he's pressing his mouth to yours, as his hands begin to trail down your body.

[anachilles]

Hi! Could I request “You’re cold. Come here.” with buck and bucky??

you certainly can! hope you liiiiike ✨ -> prompt lists i'm currently accepting requests from: [ x ] [ x ] <-

Whiskey burns hot and foreign on Gale's tongue, at the back of his throat and all the way down, and he does his best not to let his expression twist.

It's the first night of what's been promised to be a long and lasting freedom.

He can't explain why he chooses to imbibe then, after years of easily held, steadfast sobriety, only hesitating for half a beat while glancing at John's arm and the proffered hip flask before taking it from him. The war's over. They're going home. It's as good a time as any, right?

The base is alight, not only with the leftover, now useless, flares the ground crews are appropriating for fireworks out on the tarmac, but also with drunken laughter filtering through the music the air seemed to be filled with. It's alight with joy. With optimism they'd been bottling up for months, maybe years, even, but daren't let take root and risk blinding them. All covering up a bone-deep, underlying sadness that dare not speak its name, not now.

They'd let themselves have tonight, at the very least, to celebrate each other and all that had made it before toasting and honouring the memory of those that hadn't.

Sitting here, alone with John on the balcony of the Tower, overlooking the entire airfield, it's hard not to feel an affection for it. During those twenty-odd missions they'd ran, from a birds-eye view, it had come to mean safety in the knowledge that they were in the homestretch. That they could scratch of another one and allow themselves the luxury of considering they could be making it out of this thing alive.

Passing the flask back to John, Gale watches his face carefully, pensive and unnaturally subdued as it seemed to be. He worries that John's missing out on the party on his account, choosing instead to follow Gale out into the night rather than stay back with the men and celebrate properly. He'd tried to insist that John stay, after Gale and he went and put in a bit of lip service having a couple of drinks with what was left of the crew towards the start of proceedings, but when Gale made a move to leave, he was quick on his heels behind him.

It wasn't that Gale is sad exactly, the brusque, three letter word painting a much too broad a stroke over the nuanced complication of what he was feeling. Too nuanced to work through in all that menagerie on the ground, or in the club, at least.

There's quiet understanding in how John catches him looking then, intercepting the stolen, too-long glance, and offering Gale a twitch of a telling smile in return.

Some time later, they find themselves wandering into the depths of the moon-drenched woods, the music and lights and voices of the base growing more and more muffled as they left it further and further behind them.

He's not sure what makes John stop, a handful of steps behind him, but when he notices the absence of his footfall snapping twigs and bracken underfoot, Gale pauses. The brief silence is loaded; any type of silence from John likely means something. Under the shroud of darkness all his senses heightened, on-guard and alert. Unmoving, he focuses his eyes and tries scanning around him. He can't even hear the sound of John's breathing to use as a guide.

"Is this a game?" he asks out into the emptiness, anticipatory, his breath slightly shallower as, stupidly, his heart starts to race despite knowing he's in no danger here. The worst you're going to get in an English wood is a grey squirrel, for God's sake. "What're we playin'?"

He's unsure whether he wants to smile or not.

After an extended few seconds, as if from out of nowhere, there's a breath against the back of Gale's neck, exactly nailed on that secret little spot nobody on earth but one person knows about. A pair of lips meet the full-body shiver that races up his spine with the shock of it, and are quickly displaced from their perch as Gale swivels around.

When he sees John's face in front of him once more, his eyes are suddenly heavy with the weight of something unspeakable, his smirk devilish in the shadows of the moonlight, totally unapologetic, even more so when he clocks the sudden flush that had risen to Gale's cheeks.

His heart is racing, he's blushing, but even still Gale simply raises an indignant, demanding eyebrow. Challenging. All the while his gaze tries for scrutiny, but inevitably trips up every time it stops to linger on John's mouth.

Maybe Gale, maybe they both, truly needed to get away from the commotion of the party. Maybe one followed the other on blind trust and a general, innocent desire for only each other's company. Maybe they both wordlessly understood exactly what they were following each other into the woods for, this night of all nights.

John lets out a breath and steps up closer into Gale's space, his lips lowering so that they were hovering teasingly close to the other man's own, but not touching. Gale doesn't move, digs in his heels and doesn't even flinch, posture rigid with control as he let his own breath ghost out against John's lips.

John breaks the deadlock look they mutually hold, his eyes flitting down to Gale's neck and his hand rises to follow, fingertips tracing the trail of goosebumps visible.

He smiles knowingly, bringing his hand away and slipping it into the delicate curve of Gale's waist, gesturing down towards the evidence of his past efforts.

“Ah, look. See, you’re cold, aren't you? Come here...”

[beechersnope]

Summer of Cum Days 16/17/18: snowballing, precome, come slut

lance/fernando, includes girl lance, facefucking, and an imbalanced sexual relationship, 1105 words

***

Every time they do this, it feels like the worst decision Fernando has ever made in his life. It should be a difficult list to top, but somehow, they manage. Sometimes he thinks that bad decisions are all he’s good at anymore.

“Slower,” Fernando tells her, his lips straining around each syllable. It’s never been so hard to remember English as it is when he’s with Lance. “Stay still. Let me do it.”

Lance is on her elbows and knees in her hotel bed. Her bed, because if Fernando ever allowed her in his, he knows she’d never leave. She’s naked, her skin slicked with sweat despite the air conditioner set as low as it’ll go. Lance always runs hot.

Fernando’s cock has been in her mouth for what feels like an hour. It probably hasn’t been that long, because whenever they do this, Lance gets so worked up that she can’t help but get a hand between her clit and the mattress to make herself come with Fernando’s dick down her throat—she knows by now that Fernando won’t do it for her no matter how many times she asks—and so far, they have yet to reach that part of the evening.

“Slow,” Fernando says again as he strengthens his grip on her high ponytail, her thick, dark hair like a length of rope in his fist. He pulls her down, nice and steady, until she has no choice but to swallow around him, her nostrils flaring as the tip of her nose nudges against his pelvis.

Fernando likes it best when it’s like this, when he has her looking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. He knows what she wants, that if Lance got her way, he’d be fucking her through the mattress until she can’t walk. Or maybe riding him, using his cock to get herself off over and over until he can’t take anymore.

But she’s young, still, and she needs to learn self-control. She’s too clingy, too needy, wants everything all the time. She doesn’t know how to appreciate the things she has that’ll one day be gone.

“Good,” Fernando says encouragingly as Lance finally relaxes under his hands. He slowly draws his cock back out, letting her take a breath, staring at the potent mix of precome and saliva dripping from her mouth, keeping her tethered to his cock as she gasps for air. “Again.”

He’s rougher this time, fucking her face, her throat until she gags, until there’s spit pouring out of her mouth onto the duvet. She takes it. She takes all of it, everything he has to give her, and Fernando has to force himself to slow down again when she stares up at him with watery brown eyes, lashes clumping together with the beginnings of tears.

Fernando wants to touch her, wants to slap her ass, flip her onto her back so he can mouth at her breasts. He wants to come in her pussy, again and again and again. Lance makes him feral, like he could lose his mind. She isn’t the only one who needs discipline, a firm hand.

Like this, they’re on the knife’s edge. Fernando has a duty to them both to keep them from falling off.

He pulls back again. Lance sucks in a sharp breath and reaches up with one hand to grab for his cock. Fernando quickly swats it away.

Lance’s eyes go dark. “I want to make you come,” she tells him, practically throwing a tantrum about it already, though that’s usually the sort of thing that precedes these meetings, rather than occurring during the main event.

“No,” Fernando says simply before fucking back into her mouth again. That’s another advantage of doing it this way. Less talking.

If Fernando was more honest with her—himself, too—they wouldn’t do this at all. There are only two viable paths to choose from: he could quit, and get on his knees for Lance instead; or he could quit, and cut ties with her altogether.

Fernando has, stupidly, chosen to stay.

Lance stares up at him balefully as he slowly slides into the back of her throat again. He’d asked her once what his come tasted like. She’s fascinated by it, delighted even. Never stops talking about how much she loves that he gets so wet for her, that she can taste it as soon as he’s inside her mouth. She swallows every time, his cock so deep inside her that Fernando sometimes wraps a hand around her neck just to feel the slight swell of himself in her throat.

He wants to taste her just as badly, but he’ll never tell.

Fernando thinks about denying her again when he feels himself getting close. Maybe for the fourth time, or the fifth. It’s easy to lose count.

He fucks her even harder instead, his free hand coming up to cradle her cheek, her jaw as he uses her. She struggles to stay upright as she wriggles a hand under herself, the way he’s come to expect. Her tits bounce with every thrust, hard, dark nipples dragging against the mattress.

She’s so beautiful, Fernando thinks, and then he pulls almost all the way out so he can come with just the head of his cock pressed against her tongue.

They stay there like that for a long moment, and then finally, Fernando pulls out. Lance doesn’t say anything when he drops down onto his knees with a pained grunt so he can kiss her. It’s only when she shoves her tongue into his mouth that he realizes why, the sharp brine of his come still thick like batter when she gives it back to him.

It doesn’t feel spiteful, though Fernando thinks that it probably should. If Lance were smarter about all this, maybe it would be. If she were better at playing games.

Lance’s face is radiant when he opens his eyes, their mouths disconnecting with a wet smack. Fernando swallows himself down and sees her see it, watches her smile.

It’s too genuine. He wants to look away. He doesn’t.

He should ask her if she came. He should make her come. He doesn’t.

“When are you gonna fuck me?” Lance asks with a faux pout that doesn’t fully engulf her wry smile. She flops over onto her back and starfishes out on the bed, letting out a wistful sigh before letting her hands drift back down between her thighs. She’s almost absent-minded about it. Not teasing, at all. “Like, actually fuck me?” she wonders.

Never, Fernando thinks to himself. He has to draw a line somewhere.

[bittersweetblasphemy]

Tired of letting shit get in my way. Time to brute force it.

[selfishlove-tf]

5th Annual TF Story Exchange - for Jockifyme

G’day :) I wanted to challenge myself so I entered the TF Story Exchange to force myself to write something. The author I got for the exchange was @jockifyme​ so please enjoy. I hope I met your requirements @jockifyme​ .

***---***

I’m an accountant and sometimes we audit High Schools. We make sure that the donations or funds received go places they should be going to, we check payroll and budget; we call it “cash stuff” in the office because “expenses” and “finances” start confusing our smaller-minded Gen Z workers.

From that “defame our younger generation” comment alone, you should be able to tell that I am older – not too much but I feel myself reaching the other end of my thirties really quickly. Luckily, the stresses of older age haven’t touched me too much; I have my curly brown hair, though it is fading in colour just like my eyes which used to be emerald, now swamp. Got my height from my mum, she was six-three and she gave me my current six-one. Got my metabolism (or lack thereof) from my dad whose genes garunteed no weight would be gained – I was skinny, a measly one-forty pounds.

The lights in the schools office behind reception showed my touch-of-sunburn off more than I wanted to, my skin naturally pale like a ghost flared up with areas of red where I misapplied my sunscreen. I, however, didn’t feel the burn so the sun must’ve been somewhat lacklustre that day. Sunburn was the last thing on my mind anyway. Numbers, numbers, numbers. I enjoyed the numbers and I did well in maths back when I was in school some blah blah blah years ago – I’d rather not say how long – and was in the top ten of students in my school who graded highly during the final exams before graduation. The only part I hated was listening to the administration guy who lightly flirted with the teachers as they walked by. They couldn’t see it but the “that dress fits nice on you” and “did you forget your glasses because those eyes are shining today” commends he has said in the past ten minutes were dangerously close to the line of being fired should someone actually pay attention to him.

I continued my counts and record-checking and, soon enough, the admin guy was talking to me about football. I never got into that kind of thing, my focus was more on work and work and work. I didn’t need to watch a bunch of men running into each other, the idea was stupid to me. Yet, despite my disinterest in the topic, the admin guy continued to drone on about it.

I looked at my watch; I had only been here for an hour. All the kids were in their classes so, gladly, I decided to quickly take a break and get a drink. Stupidly, I forgot my water bottle and I didn’t want to deal with more dead conversation from the admin guy and, as I recalled, I remembered there being a bubbler/water fountains near the building facing the oval. With a quick “I’ll be back” to the admin guy, and a swift exit, I was out the door and headed towards the oval, a quick hello and hi to some teachers passing or students that were supposed to be in class. Reaching the bubbler, there was footsteps nearby and voices loudly talking. I leaned down, pulled the lever and started drinking, footsteps getting closer. The closer it got, the more I heard the topic of conversation.

‘I don’t know what we’re gonna do, man,’ one started. ‘Tyler’s out for the game tonight and we got no backup since Harry left.’

‘Cool it, Reid!’ another cut the first off. ‘We’ll find someone or deal with a short team no matter what coach says.’

‘Yeah, but where are we gonna find something so short notice, Jay?’ A third asked. I had become invested in the conversation that I didn’t realise that they were now walking behind me as I was still drinking from the bubbler until they stopped.

‘How about you?’ Jay asked.

It took me a minute to realise he was talking to me. I stopped drinking and turned around and was greeted by four teens in football gear. ‘You talking to me?’

‘We are looking at you,’ pointed the fourth.

‘Smart kid, though I don’t go here clearly.’ I gestured to my whole figure, hoping they weren’t dumb enough to think I was any younger than thirty-five.

‘Not a problem with us.’ Jay, who I assumed was the leader, stepped forward. ‘I’m Jay, and these are my bros Reid, Mikey and Kyle.’ He gestured to his friends as if I was interested in knowing them. Jay was short, wide and brunette; Reid was tall, thin and blonde; Mikey was tall, tan and built; Kyle was the shortest, brunette and athletic. The group did seem like the perfect popular boys of school, they just lacked more arrogance.

‘How would you expect to fix that?’ I questioned. ‘Compared to you guys, I’m weathered. Y’all haven’t even touched hard work yet.’ That comment seemed to irritate Reid, subtly puffing his chest up.

‘Hard work? Football is full time!’ Reid arched up.

‘Reid, not another word,’ Jay snapped. ‘You’ll only scare him away, and we’re already about to get scary.’

‘Oh, I’m shaking.’ I teased before rolling my eyes and started walking back to the office.

‘Take him,’ I heard Jay mutter.

Soon, three pairs of hands were on me and started to pull at me, dragging me in the opposite direction. I started shouting to let me go and, for a moment I thought why it was suddenly so quiet at the school; no students or teachers were walking by and no one seemed to look out the windows at the commotion I was causing. No matter how much I shouted and wriggled, the guys’ strong hands had firm grips. I looked behind me to where they were dragging me and found that they were taking me to the locker rooms. They barged in, pushed me to the bench and sat me down, Reid and Kyle holding me down while Mikey went off to grab something.

‘We’re gonna make sure you’re ready for the game tonight,’ Jay said matter-of-factly.

Mikey returned with football gear which I began to question myself about how stupid they really are. Jay motioned to Reid and Kyle as Mikey came to stand behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. Without warning, Reid and Kyle started to pull at my clothes, tearing my button up off and yanking my shoes off before pulling off my pinstripes. I tried to fight back with all of my strength but Mikey was stronger than he looks, making sure to hold me in place during the process. At the end of it, I was left in my briefs.

‘Let me go you freaks!’ I shouted. ‘I don’t know what you plan on doing but it needs to end now!’

Jay motioned to the football uniform and gear and Kyle and Reid moved almost immediately. Reid began with what looked like compression shorts, sliding them up my legs until they were on properly. I felt immediate embarrassment being dressed as if I couldn’t do it myself. When the compression shorts snapped into place, my legs felt like they were burning although bearable. No sooner did my legs start burning that Kyle had put on long socks and oversized football boots, and the burning spread down until it reached my feet. My whole lower half was on fire and, sure enough, when I looked down, I saw why. My thighs started to plump up, calves sharpening and I felt my toes touch the end of the boot. Soon as that began, Reid grabbed a compression singlet and slid it over my head and over my torso, Kyle soon following with the shoulder pads.

I was panicked, my whole body starting to feel like I’d worked out for hours, and my body was catching up. My torso bulked up, a bit of muscle showing as my chest puffed up and my biceps blew up. My flexed forearms had a roadmap of veins as my increasingly meaty hands gripped firmly on the bench. I was beginning to tire myself out through all the strain and flexing I was doing due to the pain of the growth. At some point, Jay told Mikey to let me go because he knew I wasn’t going anywhere, not that I could because of the amount of pain I was in.

Soon enough, as it had started to die down, I looked over myself while out of breath and saw how toned I got. I was in shock; something completely impossible just happened. When I looked up to the group, there was glee in their eyes, but mine saw red. I had no energy to do anything, though, exhausted from the growth.

‘What the fuck did you do?’ I gasped between breaths.

‘It’s not over,’ Jay said. ‘Look at me.’

He grabbed my chin and lifted my face to look at him directly in the eyes. He smiled before swiping some black paint onto my cheeks, and then he let go of my chin and stepped back. There was a brief moment where nothing happened, but it hit seconds later. I gripped my head and squeezed my eyes shut as images flashed across my vision of school, football, training, hanging out with the bros. Bros? No, I was an adult. I was here for an audit. No, that doesn’t sound right? I was on the oval with my bros talking about the game. No! The admin guy, we were talking about football while I was doing work… work? No, I was skipping class. My brain went back and forth and soon enough, the school-kid persona was taking over. All the games my bros and I played, the games we won and the after-parties we went to. My body, face, and mind were all getting younger. My hair turned a darker brown, keeping the curls, and my eyes had regained their shining emerald green. My sunburn cleared up and my skin looked tanned from spending weeks in the sun. Although keeping the muscle on, my body shrank a little and smoothed out. After all of a few minutes, my head cleared and my body no longer felt like it was burning. I felt completely painless, in fact, I had a lot of energy.

‘You good, Jack?’ asked Reid.

I looked up at the group, a brief pause before nodding my head. ‘Still mad Tyler can’t make it.’

‘Well, we gotchu at least,’ Mikey pointed out. ‘We’ll sure win tonight.’

‘We always win, bros!’

‘That’s the spirit!’ Jay cheered. ‘Now let’s get practicing! Don’t forget your jersey, Jack.’

I looked down at the bench where my jersey was. I grabbed it and slipped it on, unknowingly sealing the transformation. ‘Do we gotta wear the shoulder pads during training?’ I complained.

‘Shut up and get out there!’

[thirsty-flygirl]

Unexpected

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!Reader

Word Count: 2892 ish

Warnings: This is smut. Top to bottom, inside and out (ha), this is filthy, dirty smut. If you continue reading, you are confirming you're over 18 and are aware of what is to follow. You know your own limits, pals.

I shouldn’t be doing this

Warnings echoed in your head, a little too late. You knew exactly what you should have done - walked away. Instead, you were laying underneath him, about to get the fuck of your life, trying to remind yourself why this was a bad idea.

It wasn’t like you were morally opposed to a one-night stand; hell, you’d had plenty before. But you had a feeling this particular one-night stand would have some serious consequences. After all, you worked together, had the same friends, had to see his smug face, had to deal with his absolutely infuriating personality, his snarky comments and terrible sense of humor all the goddamn time.

“Oh, fuck, Ben,” you groaned, momentarily distracted from your self-flagellation. You felt him grin against your skin, the fucker, as he continued massaging your breast, tweaking and pulling at your nipple. You were embarrassingly wet, pussy leaking into your panties— thank GOD you had worn sexy ones, you didn’t need Benny hanging that over your head— and you hated your body for the way it was betraying you.

He switched to your other nipple, working it the same way as the first, while moving his plush lips up your neck, pausing to suck at your pulse point and earning another moan from you. Trailing his tongue lightly up your neck to the sensitive spot behind your ear, he nipped softly at your lobe, your jaw, and then your lips, which you immediately opened to him.

It was Benny’s turn to groan, a low growl that made a fresh wave of slick rush against the walls of your pussy. It was actually aching, throbbing, your cunt, waiting for the moment he would finally push his cock through your folds.

His tongue stroked yours languidly, licking into your mouth as if to memorize the feel, the taste, of you. Despite your initial misgivings about hooking up with Benny, you were really starting to come around to the idea.

He broke the kiss, looking down at you for a moment with a soft smile on his stupidly gorgeous face. You really did dislike him, you did, with that wheat-colored hair dropping into his annoyingly beautiful blue eyes. Before you could think better of it, you reached up to brush his hair back.

“You know why I love kissing you?” he asked, letting his long fingers drift to the side of your face, softly caressing your cheekbone.

Heat flared through your body; who knew Benny was this sweet? “Why?” you whispered.

That smile broadened into something you recognized, laced with mirth and that trademark smugness that made you want to punch him in his pretty—

“Because it shuts you up for a goddamn minute.”

Benny laughed as you shoved him back, sitting back on his haunches while you scrambled off his bed.

“You are a dickbag, Ben Miller,” you seethed, wondering how you had let yourself fall into his arms in the first fucking place.

Oh, yeah. Whiskey Sours and a booth too small to hold you and the guys, forcing your body against Benny’s for hours.

Still chuckling, he reached out a hand to beckon you back. “Come on, baby, I’m joking. You’re always so serious, it’s fun to wind you up sometimes.”

You narrowed your eyes and tried to ignore the way your stomach fluttered when he called you baby. Instead, you focused on the throbbing, damp heat in your core, inexplicably continuing despite Benny’s effort to temper it. You wanted it, wanted him, still.

Oh, hell, you needed it.

You returned to the bed, kneeling on the mattress in front of him. Gripping his chin lightly, you felt a surge of satisfaction at the way his pupils dilated, blowing the crystal blue to black. You brought your lips within centimeters of his and whispered against his skin.

“Are you gonna fuck me, Miller? Or do I need to call Pope to get the job done?”

Before you could blink, he had you on your back, hands grappling at the waistband of your jeans. “God, you fucking drive me crazy,” he gritted out, stripping them down your legs and tossing them into the darkness, “such a fucking smart mouth on you, think you have it all figured out, don’t you?”

You couldn’t formulate a response, not with the way his big hands swept over your waist, your hips, your thighs. There, he slid his palms down and spread you wide for him.

“Look at you, how wet you are just for me,” he mused, letting a finger press against your covered cunt, the fabric soaked with your arousal. Just his simple touch had you bucking your hips, seeking the friction you so desperately wanted. “Yeah, you’re just aching for it, huh?” His eyes flicked to yours. “You think Pope could do this to you? Get your pussy this wet? Make you want it this bad?”

Oh fuck, you were done pretending.

“No,” you whimpered, pressing your head back into the mattress and baring your throat to him, “only you, Benny, fuck—”

You lost the ability to speak when he bent his head and slanted his mouth over clothed clit. It felt like you might combust, the feeling of him tonguing at the damp material between your legs making you incoherent.

Benny was afraid he might shoot his load right there, with his jeans still on and his mouth not even on your bare pussy. Get it the fuck together, he chastised himself, slipping his fingers under your panties and tugging them down so he could get to the good part.

The sight of your glistening folds didn’t help matters. He’d never seen a pussy that looked this good, smelled this good. Fuck, he was in trouble.

You were so pliant under his hands, soft and sweet and like no one he’d ever had before. So different from your usual smart remarks, the barbs you carelessly tossed his way sometimes landing a little too close for comfort. He didn’t even like you, not really, but damn it if he didn’t want you. Since the day you’d met, he’d thought about this moment, how you would sound and how you would feel when he finally slid his aching cock inside you. Fuck, he thought about that way more than he should, to the point of distraction. Tonight, in that booth, he finally decided enough was enough; he had to get you under him so he could finally get over this . . . thing . . . he had for you.

“You gonna put your mouth on it, or just look at it?”

You quirked an eyebrow down at him, challenging him like you always did.

“Buckle up, Honey,” he drawled, wrapping his hands under your thighs to tug you to his mouth. Your squeal faded into a throaty moan as he licked a stripe up your cunt, once, twice, three times before sealing his lips over your clit.

Turns out, Benny Miller ate pussy like a fucking champ.

He pleasured you like a man starved— long, slow, licks that drew whimpers from you, then plunged his long tongue inside you before trailing it up to circle your clit. He continued this pattern, over and over, bringing to the edge of ecstasy before pulling back. Your hips rolled against his mouth, moving on instinct, each pass pulling groans and mumbled praise from his lips.

“So good, baby, you’re such a good girl for me . . . taste so fucking good . . . “ He pressed the flat of his tongue against your clit and stroked, over and over. He slid a single digit into you, curling it and rubbing against that secret spot inside you, making your thighs shake against his shoulders. It was too much, all too much, that aching, electric pulse surging from your pussy to fill your entire body, building, rising, until you were whining beneath him.

“More, Ben, please” you begged breathlessly, spurring him on. He doubled his efforts, focusing on your clit, groaning into your cunt as he waited for your release to coat his tongue. A second finger joined the first, then a third, thrusting them roughly into you, in sync with the cries falling from your throat.

Energy thrummed through your veins, each lick of Benny’s tongue and push of his fingers bringing you closer to flying over the edge. This was reckless, messy, and you had never wanted anything the way you wanted the man shattering you into pieces in his bed.

“So fucking tight,” he rasped, the clench of your walls around his fingers enough to make his cock weep in his pants. Goddamn, you were beautiful, spread out for him like a fallen angel. His hips ground into the mattress, seeking friction to counter the ache in his balls. “C’mon, honey, give it to me,” he urged, swirling his tongue against you, “wanna feel you gush . . let that pretty pussy get me all wet. . .”

His words were the final push you needed. You came, hard, coating his mouth, his hand, in your slick. Head thrown back and eyes closed, you sobbed his name, the word tearing from your throat. Every thought in your head flew away, the only thing that mattered at this moment was the way Benny’s mouth was still suctioned to your cunt, taking everything that you gave.

Licking hungrily, he swallowed you down, savoring the heady taste of your come. He pressed his face closer, unable to tear himself away from the natural musk of you, and sucked your clit hard as you pulsed around his fingers.

“Too much,” you whimpered, pushing at his head. Reluctantly, he pulled away, covering your body with his and propping himself on one arm while he swept a hand over his mouth, wiping you from his lips.

You regarded each other quietly for a moment, gazes locked. Whatever had brought you to this point, both of you knew there was no going back.

And neither of you wanted to.

Surging forward at the same time, your lips met in a clash of tongue and teeth. Nipping, sucking, licking, your emotions poured into the kiss, transforming years of frustration and fighting into unfettered passion.

Frantically, you shoved at Benny’s hips. “Need these off, “ you ordered breathlessly. He quickly shucked them off, throwing them in the same direction as yours had gone earlier. You immediately slipped your hand under the band of his boxer briefs, wrapping your fingers around his thick cock.

He dropped his head into your neck and groaned. “Fuck . . . I’m not gonna last long, baby.” Stripping off his underwear then returning to you, he settled his slim hips between your thighs with a grin.

“Get ready for the main event.”

You giggled softly, realizing that the brittle layer of irritation you had carried for so long was just buried desire. Pushing yourself up to kiss him, you smiled against his lips.

“You better not disappoint, Miller.”

He rolled his hips against yours, hard cock nudging against your clit. “Never had any complaints,” he teased. Shifting, he pressed the tip at your hot, wet center, just that small stretch alone making you gasp. He pulled away, concern knitting his brow.

“You okay?”

Nodding, you grabbed at his ass to bring him back into you. “Fuck, yes, I just want you inside me.”

Without another word, Benny buried himself in you, the hot clutch of your cunt almost too much. “Hold on, baby,” he paused above you, eyes closed and jaw clenched, “fuck . . . you feel so fuckin’ good . . .” After a moment, his eyes opened and locked on yours, the raw, possessive glint in them sending you reeling. He pulled his cock out to the edge of your fluttering entrance before snapping his hips forward again.

You cried out as he plunged himself inside of you, unable to form words to express how good, how fucking perfect, he felt. Benny set a brutal pace, hinging your hips and folding you nearly in half, his hands gripping the backs of your thighs as he thrust into your weeping cunt.

“Oh fuck . . . jesus, baby . . . feel so fucking good . . . ,” he panted above you, curling over you to brace his hands next to your head. You gripped his hair, bringing him down to press a heated, open-mouthed kiss to his lips. His groan spurred you on and you felt your orgasm building, spreading from your core with each press of his body against yours. You tugged his hair and he broke your kiss, meeting your eyes with a feral glare.

“Harder.”

You easily obliged, pulling his head back to bare his throat. You surged up and licked up the side of his neck, pausing to bite at the spot where you could feel his heart hammering. In turn, he continued to absolutely wreck you, over and over, pounding his cock inside you, stoking a fire unlike you’d ever felt. “God you feel so good, Benny . . . I’m so close . . . please don’t stop . . . please . . .”

“Never.”

He pushed himself up to kneel between your legs and licked his long fingers before bringing them down to circle your clit. “Come on, baby,” he urged, “give it to me . . . let me feel you . . . fuck, I wanna feel you come on my cock.”

Your release was near, radiating from your pussy outward, the pressure, the fullness, inching you closer to the edge, and Benny’s rough, pleading words were what you needed to finally lose control. Walls clenching around his length, your release tore through you, ripping a scream from your lungs. He kept fucking you through your orgasm, the drenching slick of your come coating his cock.

It was too much, the feeling of fullness, the feeling of your body absolutely shattering into pieces, brought to ecstasy by the one man you never could have imagined. His dick kept nudging against that sweet, hidden spot inside you, making you come again, this time so hard you soaked the sheets beneath you.

“Oh, fuck,” Benny panted above you, “you fuckin’ squirted baby . . . that’s so fuckin’ hot.”

“Come for me, Benny,” you begged, “please . . . fill me up.”

“Fuck,” he growled, giving you exactly what you wanted. You felt him twitch inside you, coating your walls with his come, pressing his hips tightly against your body. You moaned with him, the sight of him falling apart with you, because of you, nearly sending you over the brink again.

Spent, Benny hunched over you, pressing his forehead against yours. He dipped to press a soft kiss to your lips before lowering himself to rest against your chest with his softening cock still inside you. You stroked the sweaty hair back from his face, eyes locked on his as you both came down from your high.

“What are you thinking?” He brought his hand to cup your jaw, softly stroking his thumb against your skin. Regarding him silently, you let your brain take over for the first time since he pressed his mouth against you. What were you thinking?

This was fun?

Glad we got it out of our systems?

We should definitely fuck again?

Let’s go on a date?

None of those seemed to fit, your emotions swirling in a muddied mess. Instead, you took a deep breath and told him the truth. “I don’t know."

You expected to see disappointment, irritation cross his gorgeous face. Instead, a grin lit up his features.

“Thank fucking god,” he huffed, dropping a kiss to the juncture of your neck, “I have no fuckin’ words right now.” He slowly sat up, pulling out of you with a small groan, watching himself spill out of you. He drew his fingers through the mess, pushing his release back inside your pussy. “Goddamn, that’s hot,” he mumbled, watching your body take him in again.

With a deep breath you sat up beside him, running your hands through the tangles of your hair. What did you do now? You had no precedent for fucking someone you couldn’t stand, although that wasn’t exactly a valid assessment of your feelings now. Still, this was definitely awkward, and you kept your eyes down as you moved to gather your clothes from around his room.

“Where the hell are you going?” he demanded, grabbing your wrist lightly as you stood from the bed. Turning your head, you saw insecurity flash in his eyes.

“Don’t you want me to leave?” you asked uncertainly.

“Do you want to?” he countered.

You shook your head silently and he gently tugged your wrist so that you fell back to the bed. Benny crawled up your body to rest at your side, slowly running his fingertips against the curve of your hip.

“Just sleep,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss against your lips, “we can talk tomorrow.”

He moved against the sheets, laying against the pillow and tucking you into his side. You moved easily, exhausted, your body sated. You could think about this tomorrow, about your feelings, his feelings. Things had shifted irrevocably, and you would need to figure out what it all meant; you’d spent so long cloaking your feelings for him in anger that you weren’t sure how to just switch it off. But now, the dam was broken, you were in new territory, and things couldn’t go back to the way they were.

And honestly? You didn’t want them to.

Turning your head, you pressed a kiss to his shoulder and let yourself begin to drift to sleep, the weight of his arm around you making you feel secure, wanted. Before long, his deep breaths turned to soft snores and you soon followed.

Maybe you shouldn’t have done this.

But you were glad you did.

[billys-mullet]

silence from billy hargrove is never, ever a good thing.

steve is scared shitless the first time it happens. they're in his car, radio turned up too loud, and billy is throwing a fit about changing the station while steve makes a huge show of raising the volume of his voice as he's singing along to make it big's "wake me up before you go-go". the atmosphere is light and fun despite billy's protests. they're in that awkward stage of not-quite-enemies-but-something-more-than-friends. touches and gazes linger longer than than deemed socially acceptable, their jabs more flirtatious than truly mean. steve likes billy, and billy keeps nothing a secret when it comes to his own crush — it's written all over his playground bullying, in the way he tugs steve's hair or blows a puff of breath into his ear.

so it really shouldn't be a big deal when steve reaches over the center console and rests a hand against billy's thigh.

but apparently it is because billy shuts up instantaneously. his jaw snaps with an audible click and the muscles beneath steve's hand tighten. and that's — terrifying. to the point where the rational part of his brain shuts off, and all he can think about is the fact that he's about to be punched right now.

but it never comes.

instead, steve turns his head just slightly to see that billy has gone ramrod still, gaze fixated out the windshield. the way his nostrils flare and the gleam in his eye is reminiscent of a caged, frightened animal. steve swallows, turns his head back, and hesitantly asks, "is this... okay?"

but he doesn't receive an answer.

again, his head turns. and, again, he's asking, "billy? is this okay...?" in a voice so small and soft that he doesn't think it's heard over the radio.

but slowly, surely, billy's body begins to unravel. and then he's nodding. still not quite relaxed, but nodding nonetheless.

steve turns down the radio and they drive the rest of the way to the quarry on near silence.

—

it happens again a few months later, when billy has steve pinned down against the couch, mouths moving together as feverishly as their hips. it's dirty, it's messy, but it always is between the two of them. billy's working a dark bruise into steve's throat in-between murmured filth, and steve — stupidly brainless with pleasure and need — doesn't even think as he brings a hand up to billy's hair. but he doesn't tug. as much as he wants to keep up with the nasty pace they've got going on, he cant bring himself to pull on the soft, productless strands.

instead he – runs his fingers through them. scratches along billy's scalp. releases a soft noise of his own — that quickly turns into confusion. because billy is still again, like he's been electrocuted. like he doesn't like it. and steve freezes himself.

what? what did he do wrong?

"s... sorry? was that too much?"

billy doesn't move for a long time. steve goes to remove his hand, apology on his lips, but the softest noise of protest reaches his ear. and then slowly, slowlyslowlyslowly, billy is unlocking on top of him. he practically goes bonless, all of his weight crushing the breath from steve's lungs.

he's still quiet, though.

steve returns the gentle touch, nails scratching against billy's scalp in a way that must feel heavenly because his hips rock down in a slow, dirty grind that's completely unlike the frantic pace of earlier.

"is this okay?"

billy jerks his head. steve can't tell if it's a yes or a no. he tightens his grip, using it as leverage to pull billy's face back from where it's still buried in his neck.

"bee? is this o... oh."

and the eyes that stare down at him are glassy with tears. steve is terrified that he's hurt him — until billy's swollen lips part around a quiet groan that goes straight to steve's leaking dick. he's never, ever made a sound like that before.

"hey... talk to me. use your words. is this okay?"

"y...eah... " said slow and stupid. billy rocks down against him again, and steve answers it with a roll of his own that makes billy's lashes flutter. the hands in his hair start at the back of his neck and scratch all the way up. billy shudders, the cords of his throat going tight, and he s o b s. an honest to god sob, like this is the best thing he's felt in ages.

steve is so stupidly in love.

[yeojaa]

come over, pt. i

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  this is pwp.  smut in the forms of:  kissing, oral (m/f), fingering, deepthroating, hickeys, protected sex.  use of the pet name shy girl.  wc. 6.2k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif and @snackhobi aka the loves of my tiny life.  author note.  this is an adaption of an rp with my beloved @velvetwicebang​.  while the writing is all my own, i owe so much to loma for inspiring me and being such a wonderful partner. 💛 if you enjoy this, feedback goes a long way.  tysm for reading!  (and yes, there will be a second part.)

You’ve been friends for thirteen months, classmates for another three before that.  You’ve worked on countless projects together, watched him fall off a roof, and have had to bail him out of campus security’s grubby little hands. Your friendship is easy, based on mutual suffering in Professor Kim’s class and long study dates spent in the library.  He smuggled you chocolates in his pockets and you brought iced coffee to the 8 a.m. lecture you shared.

You’re not sure why you’re riddled with uncertainty now then, every nerve ending shot, lit up bright like the still-up mini Christmas tree sitting in the corner of your dorm room.  (You know you should take it down but it’s so cute, slouched ever with a tiny gold star-shaped bell hanging from the end.).  

Spending time with Jungkook was normal - a part of your weekly routine - but then again, you hadn’t somehow developed a weird little crush on him until recently.  

(If you think hard, you could probably pinpoint it to a night a few weeks ago when he looked particularly good, fluffy powder puff of hair stripped of shadow and gleaming gold beneath the warm lecture lights.  You’d never had a thing for blonds but he made it look good - surprising you when he’d dropped into his seat beside you and winked in response to your surprise.) 

(It’s something you can't tear your thoughts from now, that infuriatingly charming smile burnt into your retinas.  It sits at the forefront of your mind, stealing your attention from the movie that's playing on the television hung across from your bed.  One of those blockbuster flicks, because who didn’t love gratuitous action and lens flares?)

A hand reaches for the chip bowl propped between you - homemade chex mix, because you’ve been obsessed with the recipe since discovering it a few weeks ago - and you flinch away when it brushes the hand that's already in there.

"Sorry!"  You squeak before coughing, a quick-witted (but not altogether believable) attempt at hiding the sudden heat that flares across your cheeks.  The same hand disappears between your knees, fingers curling into the soft throw laid over your legs.  You tell yourself to relax at least three times before speaking, peeking at your companion from beneath a fringe of sleep-tousled strands.  “Stop stealing all my chips.” 

The boy beside you only grins, tosses that lazy smile in your direction before turning his attention back to the explosion on the screen, entire expression lit up by the fireworks that explode in flashes of colour.

You think you’ve gotten away with it - that he hasn’t noticed - and then he’s speaking again, pointedly staring forward, seemingly unbothered.  (You know better though.  Jungkook’s infuriating like that, picking up on all the little things despite the fact that he’s a dumb boy, too good at reading between the lines when he barely studies.)

“You’re blushing.”

The callout is, well, uncalled for. 

You choose to ignore him at first, opting to shove two chocolates past your lips.  They’re unbearably sweet, minty and cold - your favourite - and the richness spills across your tongue, eliciting a soft hum as your teeth buzz from the sugar.  (Note to self:  thank Jungkook for the chocolate later.)

“You’re blushing,”  you retort once you’ve swallowed, cheeks puffed out and a dent gathering between your brows.  “I’m just—“  Hand waves wildly - nearly hits him in the face with how wobbly it is - and you pretend-glare at him, faux affront laid in spades.  “—hot.”

It comes snappier than you mean it to, spoken in something close to a pout.  You aren’t actually.  The campus is notorious for having garbage heating, floorboards more akin to packed snow in the dead of winter.  It’s just annoying.  You refuse to be another one of those girls.

(Not that there’s anything wrong with said girls.  It’s more an issue with Jungkook, stupidly handsome and charming and far too popular for his own good.  People already told you all about Jungkook’s escapades - even though you often heard them from him firsthand and in gruelling detail.  One of the downsides to being friends with someone who, for all intents and purposes, carried the title of campus heartthrob.) 

“Pay attention to the movie.”  The same hand reaches for the mix again, careful to avoid brushing his this time.  You think you’ve succeeded, snatching up a piece of pretzel, morsel halfway to your mouth when it drops to your lap.

The same lap that suddenly has a hand on it, palm warm over your knee.  

If you’d thought your nerve endings were shot, now you knew they were.  Every inch of skin was on fire - heat shooting up your spine and over your neck the moment his hand comes in contact with bare skin.  Damn your need for comfort, damn your choice to wear shorts, damn his freaking hot tattooed hands—

You almost yell at him.  The sound’s on the tip of your tongue when you bite down, stare trained wholly on the movie and the blood that splatters across the screen..

Really, you shouldn't be surprised.  You’ve known Jungkook for nearly two years - okay, not quite.  You’ve heard all the rumours about him, the whispered words that sound something like playboy and flirt and be careful.  You know and yet you’ve found yourself in this situation, desperately trying to figure out what the hell is going through his mind as you stare straight ahead, refusing to move a muscle.  

His profile is picture perfect from your periphery;  he's focused too, acting like he's done nothing wrong.  Sly as a fox, as always.

“Still blushing,”  he repeats conversationally, as if he’s commenting on the colour of the sky or how cold it is in your room.  Not as if he’s got a hand where it shouldn’t be, ink spilling over his skin in pretty patterns, burning the shape of it where he touches.

"I didn't blush.”  It’s a retort made for only argument’s sake and even then, without weight.  Feather soft and feeble in an attempt to keep your voice level.  It's hard when you’re burning up, a livewire settled where you feel him.  "I'm not blushing."

It's a lie - you can feel the flush, embarrassment flooding from your cheeks all the way down over your chest.  It’s an inferno beneath your skin, lava coursing through your veins.  

It spreads further and further, blooms somewhere new when his hand drifts lower, tracking across the soft inner of your thigh.  Doesn’t cease even when his hand does, palm firm over your leg, the ghost of a touch passing so close to your core you can’t help but jolt.  It’s as if he’s rearranged your pieces, mixed them all up.  A brush of his finger over your clothed entrance feels like it hits you right in the chest, snaps your heart to attention.  It roars to life, thundering madly, pulse erratic when he repeats the gesture, with that much more pressure.

You’re dripping, you realise to your horror, cotton of your thong sticking to your skin, grey of your shorts made darker by the arousal that spills over the one not-so-innocent digit. 

A part of you wants to run from the room.  Nearly do, heart hammering in your chest when Jungkook's face is suddenly too close, the warmth of his breath stifling against your neck.  It feels good, anticipation and desire fizzing in your stomach like fountain pop.  (The movie theatre kind, that’s somehow flat and too bubbly all at once.)

"Kook."  You mean to say it reproachfully, with a hand pushing his wrist away.  Instead it comes out like a whisper, a soft sigh of his name that sounds almost needy, laced with worry and anticipation that makes you want to tear your own hair out.  Fingers remain locked around bone, other hand digging into the blanket and the linen beneath it, searching desperately for some form of composure beneath the material.  

For the first time, you hazard a glance - know it’ll be bad for your own well-being - dropping your stare to where his hand rests.  (You have to admit - you like the sight of those tattoos, a stark contrast to the unblemished softness.)

Like it almost as much as his kisses, the first of which lands exactly where you want it most.  Delicate, polite, right on the junction of your jaw.  A sigh escapes before you can help it.  "Shy girl,”  he coos, teasing in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. 

“I’m not shy,”  you huff - try to, anyway, around the kaleidoscope of butterflies that are threatening to choke you.  "We're watching a movie."  You’re trying to redirect his attention, even as you’re desperate for it, even as you think you’d give your whole heart for it. 

You’re this close to combusting, eyes widening the moment he extracts his hand and tucks it back into the bowl of chips.  A part of you wants to yell at him - for starting this in the first place but mainly for leaving you high and dry, turned on and soaking through your underwear. 

(It’s not fair, but then again, you’d never expected them to be.  You’ve seen the rules Jungkook plays by - namely those of his own creation.  Term paper due the next morning?  He’d somehow pull it out of his ass that night.  Break something at a house party?  He’d be let off with a smile and a wave, those doe eyes of his utterly lethal when paired with his pout.)

“Watch the movie then.”  He sounds almost bored, utterly unbothered as he seamlessly slips back into the proper role of friend, classmate, study partner.

"Let's."  Without tossing another glance in his direction, you stare straight ahead, own hand delving for snacks.  So what if you very purposely brush your fingers against the pieces he's just touched, popping the pieces into your mouth before slotting your thumb against your tongue, cheeks hollowing around to suck the last bits of salt and butter off.

Despite your nerves - you’re hoping he's watching - you readjust, bringing knees up, crossing legs until one is resting atop his own thick thigh.  The full of your bottom lip disappears between your teeth, worried to within an inch of its life as you shift beside him, seemingly manoeuvring your shorts into their rightful position.

(You’re not.  They’re hitched higher than they were, barely worthy of the title of shorts, more akin to a belt.  So revealing it’s almost uncomfortable, wet of your arousal sticking them to your skin.)

(Two could play this game.)

(Maybe him better than you, but still.)

You know what you’re doing and yet you’re somehow surprised when he’s suddenly disappeared from your side and situated himself in front of you, eating up too much of the space on your small double bed.  “What’re you—“  The question disappears in the same moment he does, unable to track his movements when Jungkook slips forward, pressing his mouth over yours.

You’ve kissed a lot of people.  (Okay, not a lot, but enough.)  You were a senior in college, where kissing was like talking and fucking happened more often than dating.

You’ve never kissed Jungkook before.  

Why hadn’t you?

His lips are terribly soft, pink and pouted, slanting across yours as if he’s trying to devour you.  There’s no semblance of delicacy, nothing gentle and sweet like those brushes against your neck.  They’re forceful, demanding payment in full when his tongue glides over the seam, seeking entrance despite the fact that you think he might’ve slipped in anyway.

There’s not a single wall he couldn’t break down, not a lock he couldn’t pick.  Not with how he moves, purposeful and reassured, tongue sliding over yours, sucking it into his mouth as if it’s something he does every day.  (Which it very well could be - just not with you.)

“Shy girl,”  he repeats with a mouth filled with affection, praise that pours over you honey sweet and sticky.  “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

The thing is, you’re not pretending.  You’re half-afraid this entire moment is going to explode into a thousand pieces, a dream shattered by reality.  You hope it doesn’t.  Couldn’t bear it when he feels so nice, hand spanning your waist, tucked beneath the safety of your shirt and the fleece blanket between you.  

“I’m not.”  

“Oh?”  There’s something in his eyes, something that coils heat in the pit of your stomach.  You swear you can see the devil sitting on his shoulder, gleeful little smile rearranging his features.  “Do I make you nervous, ____?”

Did he?  Of course he did.  Had, even before you’d known him.

(You’d grown comfortable, though.  Found a way to separate the popular heartthrob from your friend.)

But you’ve lost your marbles, gone certifiably insane when you make a noise that sounds nothing like you.  Because you’re once again far too interested in the way Jungkook’s touching you, manhandling you as if you’re some sort of puppet.  It really shouldn’t turn you on so much, slick coating your bare thighs when he guides you onto your back, pushes you back against your too many pillows.

He’s your friend and he’s told you all about the way he fucks girls until they can’t walk.  

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want the same treatment, though. 

The moment Jungkook’s mouth finds your skin - sensitive and soft and so close to your soaked core - you keen, hands immediately flying into his silky head of hair.  It threads between your fingers like fine silk, filaments of gold overlaid in colour by the movie that still plays.  

“Oh my god,”  you gasp, entire body arching off the back of the bed in an effort to bring some form of  relief.  You can’t help the heat that burns your cheeks or how you sound, begging and pleading as you tug gently at his blond roots.  “Don’t tease me.”

You’re not asking very nicely but you figure Jungkook will give in.  It’s his fault, after all.  

His fault - which you don’t mind when he hooks fabric aside and drags his tongue across your slit, the flat of his tongue arching your back from the bed.  Can’t mind when he does it again, rounded nose bumping against your clit.  You’re trying to stay just a little bit decent, moans soft and caught between your teeth.  You’re practically biting a hole through your lip in an effort to stay quiet, hands curled into fists.  Gold spills between them and you imagine it hurts but he doesn’t stop, only works harder to drive you crazy.

Of course he’s good at this.  Too good, if you’re being honest.

You’re dripping, legs trembling in his firm, unyielding grip.  There's molten heat building in your stomach, creeping up your spine, and with each pass of his tongue over your sensitive core, it only expands.  You want more - need it - and almost beg when he catches your clit between his teeth.  A breathy baby spills out on accident when your eyes meet, gaze half-lidded.

It’s bad for your health, how good he looks right now, chin slick, lips rubied and pretty like jewels.  “Shy girl sounds so pretty.”

There's something about his praise that completely ruins you, the words dragging a delighted, sexpot moan off your tongue.  You want him to tell you how pretty you are now and later, over and over.  

You want to be his pretty girl. 

"I want you.  I need more,"  you whine, hips rutting desperately, slick messy across your thighs and shining across Jungkook's mouth.  He smiles then - brighter than the sun, utterly radiant, so devastatingly handsome you swear your brain short circuits - and then he’s doing exactly as you’ve asked. 

He eats you out like it’s an art form, flicking his tongue over your clit with practiced precision, sucking the pearl between his lips.  When he grazes his teeth over it - just the lightest pressure - you jolt, the feeling of a finger sliding into you stealing the breath from your lungs.

He’s always had nice hands, big broad palms and long fingers.  They reach places you could never hope to, stretching you deliciously when he sinks another in alongside the first, exploring you with ease.  The sting is slight, the fullness overriding any pain, further dulled by the suction of his mouth on your clit.  

He even hums when he finds the spot he’s been looking for, hooking his fingers against it and pressing.  (You swear you see stars;  you know you feel him smile, lips spread like butter over your skin when you sob.)

You can’t help yourself, writhing and moaning, trying to ride his face with a desperation that has your chest heaving.  It feels so good to have him between your legs.  You almost miss the appearance of his other hand - in view for but a moment before it disappears past the waistband of his sweats.  Dark as they are, pitch black like most of his clothing, it’s impossible to miss the way he touches himself.  It has you even needier, pussy clenching at the thought of him fisting his own hard cock.

“Do you want a hand?”  You ask as if you’re doing him a favour and not salivating at the prospect, eyes wide, blinking down at him from behind thick lashes.  

“Fuck.”  He’s sin incarnate, undeniable when he sheds his sweats, kicks them off with just one hand, other still slotted snug against your pussy.  He never ceases his movements, fucking you on his fingers even as he sits upright, leaned back on his calves.  “You want a taste?  Shy girl wants a big fat cock in her mouth?”  

There's something about hearing him so turned on, the expletive shooting a dizzying bolt of desire straight between yours legs.  You’ve seen Jungkook worked up - he was awfully competitive, after all, dominating most intramural sports, breaking PR records in the gym - but it's something else completely when he's making you drip cum all over his hand.

"Wow.”

Jungkook's cock is pretty, flushed and glossy from the pre-cum he spreads with his thumb, massaging over the tip like it owes him something.  

You want to taste it.

A contented hum rolls off your tongue at his question, though you don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer.  His ego's big enough without it and you’re much more interested in stroking something else.  Still, you lean into his palm, nuzzling your cheek against the warmth of it when he threads his hand through your hair, gathering it in his fist.

Then without looking away, your mouth falls open, tongue peeking past your lips to lick a fat stripe up the length of his cock, from base to tip.  It's hot and heavy on your tongue, the salty taste of his pre-cum better than candy.  You hum again, swirling your tongue around the head, and keep your gaze locked with Jungkook's, almost smirking when you drag your tongue over his fingers, gently grazing the edge of your teeth against the pad of his thumb. 

“Please.”  You’re usually far more reserved, not the kind to ask for more until you’re three months into dating and certain of where you stand.  You simply can’t help yourself now, the feeling of your own wetness painting your skin, making you clench around nothing.  "I need it."

The groan that comes sounds more like Christmas, a gift given by Santa Claus himself.  It filters into your ears and has you grinning up at him, not even bothering to hide the pride that flutters your lashes and has you pursing your lips around the head of his cock.  

When he speaks again, it’s dangerously quiet, low in his throat, laced with whatever same emotion that seems to shackle your limbs.  “Open up, ____,”  he instructs, though he offers little time to adjust, guiding his cock forward, stuffing your mouth full.  “Show me how bad.”

You don’t mind.  If you were to speak, it’d practically be a prayer, tongue tracing the veins that run the length.  A chorus of yes please more when he takes just as much as he gives.  You love the power that comes with Jungkook speaking so filthily, drunk on it when he continues, spewing filth in time with each rock of his hips.

Lips seal around the swollen head each time he withdraws, cheeks hollowing around the tip.  Tongue passes over his fingers again before your hand rises, fingers curling around his wrist to pull his own away.  (You probably shouldn't - it's too romantic - but thread your fingers through his in the same instant you sink down upon his cock, taking him halfway before pulling off with a pop!)

"Do you think you'll last long enough to fuck me?"  You’re pushing his buttons on purpose, just like he had yours during the movie. 

Something close to a snarl comes, a growl that reverberates out of that big cavernous chest of his, and he grips your hair tighter, tries to hold you still as he grins down at you.  The expression is so at odds with the warmth in his eyes, the boyish tilt of his head.

You repeat the motion again and again, taking him a little bit deeper until the head brushes the back of your throat, reflexively swallowing around the intrusion.  He's still so long and thick you haven’t even taken him all, drooling around his length, breathing through your nose and pushing past the desire to gag.  Then you relax your jaw just a little more, humming when your nose brushes the neatly groomed patch of hair at his base.

Your free hand slinks across his thigh, nails digging into the meat, delighted by the flex of muscle and sinew beneath your hand.  He's so hard, both on your tongue and beneath your touch.  It prompts you to shift forward just a bit more - you can feel the slick on your thighs, dripping down onto the sheets with each movement - and trace across his thigh to gently palm his balls.

If you could speak, you’d probably ask for more.  For Jungkook to use and abuse your throat as much as he wants.  As it stands, you can only moan around him, spit and his pre-cum smeared over your lips.

“Look at you.”  He’s talking to himself, lost in his own world as he fucks into your mouth, soothes the pad of his thumb over your cheek.  You adore the way he sounds now, dazed and a little messed up.  “Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, ____.”

You can’t do much more than look up at him, batting your lashes when he compliments you, dragging your tongue everywhere you can reach as the head of his cock batters the back of your throat.  It's not an easy feat, drool all the way down your chin, trailing down your neck and staining the silk of your camisole.

At some point, you’ll need to pull off - get a proper breath of air - but not now.  Instead, you swallow around him, savouring the feeling of him filling your mouth, and squeeze gently at his balls.  When you wink up at him, it's half-hearted and with moisture in your eyes, lining lashes in the form of little gemstones.

You do it again and again, moaning lewdly around his cock before it gets too much, pulling off of him with a gasping breath and tears down your cheeks.  “Is it my turn yet?”  You’re only half-joking, made needier by the soreness in your throat, the same you want to feel so desperately between your legs.  Pressing a sweet, chaste peck to his head, tongue dipping into his slit to gather the pre-cum that leaks out, you offer the sweetest smile you can, saccharine sweet and soft.  

“Your turn?”  The way Jungkook snorts is derisive, playful.  It pulls straight off his tongue - which finds yours, swapping spit as he guides you back to the bed.  Teeth collide, lips grown swollen by the intensity of your kiss, and you startle when he nips hard at the bottom petal.  “I thought you were shy.”

“I am,”  you retort, returning the gesture, biting into the curve of his jaw with surprising repose.  Colour blooms beneath the edge of enamel, a smattering of colour that makes you smile, eager to leave more.

Which you would do, if Jungkook weren’t stripping before you, peeling his shirt from his front, tugging it over his head in that weirdly hot way that somehow all boys did.  It reveals skin in a single fluid pull, clothing discarded to the side before he levels you with a smile of his own, one that stirs to life the dimple in his cheek, eyes squinting with the intensity of his delight.  He looks deceptively sweet this way, nothing like the demon who’d just stuffed his cock down your throat.

You’re not sure which version of him you like best.

Seeing him now, dressed in nothing but that absurd, devilishly handsome grin of his, you’re not prepared.  You’re unsure where to look, gaze bouncing between the tattoos that crawl up his arms and span over his left pec, down the neatly defined ridges of his abs, and all the way back to his swollen, shiny cock.

“You’re drooling.”  Of course it’s something he’d say - because he always knows what to say, plucking perfect words from thin air.  The casual banter calms the rattle in your chest and refocuses it on his face that’s too close, looming over yours as his hands make quick work of your clothes, shedding the fabric from your form with deft, measured movements.

You’re ready to say something teasing - anything to distract from the fact that you’re still ogling him - when he catches you in another kiss, softer this time, infinitely sweeter.  Suddenly, you’re shy - which really makes no sense, given what’s transpired.

"Don't make fun of me,"  you mumble, as bashful as you were during the movie, embarrassment burning across your cheeks.  Arms rise to cover what little of your chest you can, folding around his broad palms that encompass them whole, tweaking at the straining buds.

“I’m not,”  Jungkook reassures against your lips, face dropping into the crook of your neck.  He nuzzles against you, sucking affection into the column of your throat, shamelessly laying a wreath of lust into the delicate skin.  You wonder whether he can hear the stutter of your pulse, the reaction his next words elicit.  “You’re pretty when you do it.”

You can’t quite pull your eyes away from his face, shrouded in lemon tart, so good-looking it’s unfair; his broad back and the muscle that threads it, undulating with each movement;  or the way his thighs flex between your spread knees.  You’re dragged through heaven and hell by the brush of his lips, each glide overstimulating your senses to the point of no return.  You’re still burning up, all the foreplay leaving your legs like jelly, cunt dripping with need.  "I bet you say that to all the girls."

Probably not the best thing to say with the position you’re in but the reality of the situation is hitting you and you’re feeling a little vulnerable.  Want an answer that’ll soften the sharp edges of his teeth, the intoxicating glint in his stare.

“No, just you.”  Whether it’s true or not, you can’t say for certain.  You hope it is - wish upon a star for it, laying all your hopes and dreams into the constellations in his eyes.  They’re lovely, winking down at you from the darkest depths, guiding you home.  

You don’t mean to scoff - really, you don’t.  It comes of its own accord, spilling forth like a glass too full.

“You don’t believe me?”  He sounds almost offended, the picture of innocence when he reaches down, hand scrambling about for pooled black fabric.  Comes back up with a packet between his index and middle finger, held aloft like a prize.  

How can you when he’s ready to devour you whole, primed to feast as he rolls the condom over his length, stroking himself once, twice, gaze never wavering from where it rests between your legs.

“Always prepared.”  It’s scathing but somehow tender, too mesmerised by the way he fucks into his loose fist.  You’d say more - maybe make a flippant comment about his reputation - but can’t find the words when he’s teasing you, swollen head tapping teasingly over your core.  It feels like too much, leaves you breathless when he hikes your legs up and nearly folds you in half. 

When he presses into you, the sound you make is sinful, a moan you can’t help.  Jungkook’s so fucking big you’re sure you’re about to split in half, pussy clenching tight around the sudden intrusion.  “Oh my god,”  you whine, hands coiling into his hair, trying desperately to relax, the sting of the stretch battling the pressure that builds as he sinks further in.  “You’re so big.  I c-can’t—”  You’re starting to babble nonsense and he hasn’t even begun moving yet, lips hot over the sweat-slick column of his throat when he bows, burning his presence into the grace of your neck.  A hickey of your own creation blooms right where your mouth is, right over his shoulder.  The salt of his skin distracts you, makes it easier to accommodate the fullness.  “You feel so good, Kook.”  You rock experimentally beneath him, clenching tight as if to draw him deeper.  “Please, move,”  you beg, aiming to form another bruise beneath his skin.

The first thrust chases all the breath from your lungs, a gasp ricocheting off your tongue and into the minimal space between you.  He's absurdly big, stretching you out so well that every stroke feels like heaven.  When he pushes back in, snaps his hips in that easy, effortless motion of his, you’re making the most obscene noises, words lost to his hair as he lavishes your tits with attention.

B-big! is all you manage to squeak out.  It sounds like that, anyway.  With how he's filling you, it's hard to speak coherently;  you can practically feel him in your throat.  (Or maybe that's just from choking on him earlier.  You’re not really sure.)

Hands find their way around his neck, over his shoulders, periwinkle-painted nails leaving light etchings in their wake.  They bloom colour over his back - not too hard, careful still, motor skills barely functioning - before you tangle your fingers in his hair, holding him recklessly close as the pressure builds and builds, flooding your abdomen in heat. 

There’s slick all across your thighs.  You can hear the wet sounds each time Jungkook slips almost all the way out and then rocks back in.  It's terribly messy and so hot but you’re greedy, drunk off the feeling of having this Adonis break you in half.  "Harder, p-please."  Eyes wide, you tug gently at the soft strands at the nape of his neck, meeting his with a flutter of your lashes.  "Please?"

He acquiesces without hesitation, fucks you harder, deeper, like an animal in a rut.  Grinds against you with each thrust, pushing you to your limits.  Even has the audacity to push further, until the strain in your hips conflicts with the pleasure skipping up your spine, melting you into a boneless mass.

You’ve never felt like this, stretched out and used.  You’re used to gentle lovers, sweet - if not boring - lovemaking.  The way Jungkook's pounding into you is unheard of and you’re loving it, his name whimpered on a feedback loop.  A steady Kook, Kook, Kook that twinkles in your ears, inarticulate and pleading as you rock shamelessly against him.

“You like that, ____?”  It’s a question for his own ego, something he knows but asks anyway.  (It’d be impossible not to know the answer when your cunt’s sucking him in, coating his cock in a pretty sheen.)

You’re nodding dumbly, breathless, eager to meet him each time he snaps forward.  (It’s not easy like this, practically prone beneath him, twisted into a pretzel.)  "Like it so m-much.  Feels so good.”  You can’t stop smoothing open mouthed kisses over his fluffy hair, basking in the sunshine that radiates off him. 

There's an ache starting between your legs, pussy swollen around his thick length.  You’re grateful for your natural flexibility, the hot yoga sessions you’d entertained on-and-off for years.  You’re sure you’d feel it in your legs too, knees pushed all the way up by your ears, if not for that.  

But still, you’re defenceless, made to experience each and every thing he has to offer:  every vein and ridge, the head of his cock reaching so deep it's almost too much.  With each stroke, Jungkook’s brushing against the sensitive spot that has pleasure skyrocketing, blossoming like a rose garden in spring.  "R-right there,"  you manage, rolling your hips purposefully, nearly crying each time he brushes against your g-spot.

“Right there?”  He parrots it back, infuriating and adorable, the teasing tenor dripping over you like raindrops.  They settle beneath your skin, sinking into your bones as he rears back just enough, enough to steal a kiss that’s far more tongue than it needs to be.  

It’s almost as if he’s trying to drown you, sink you beneath high tide.  

Spit descends down your chin, trails over your neck and it’s a little gross but you don’t care.  The attention he’s giving is shameless, passed over your cheeks, your throat, your breasts.  He gives and gives, both with his lips and the praise that comes unfettered.  “Perfect,”  he hums, sucking your nipple into his mouth, worrying the bud until it’s straining and puffy, too sensitive when he kisses you again and your own thigh brushes against it.  You whimper at the feeling, pulling softly at his hair, unsure whether you want less or need more.  “So sensitive.  Such a shy girl.  Such a pretty girl.”

Every word of praise has you beaming, nearly purring with delight despite the pain that comes when he puts you through the same once more, laving over the other bud with abandon.  He's sweat-slick, beads of it running down his neck, over the mosaic of bruises you’ve left behind.  It's almost embarrassing how dark his throat is coloured, a dozen reminders left all over his skin.

(You wonder how long they’ll last, how many days will pass as the colour shifts, changing like autumn leaves.  Whether they’ll still be there at your next lecture, if he’ll wear them with pride or cover up beneath one of his big baggy sweaters.)

(You hope it’s the latter.)

(Maybe he’ll let you give him more.)

(Maybe he—)

There’s a change of pace and you’re crying out, hiccupping with each thrust, the head of his cock finding your g-spot with unbearable, unrelenting precision.  Clawing at his arms, long nails digging into the firm muscle of his biceps, something between a sob and a plea rolls off your tongue, over and over.  "So big.  It's too m-much.”  And yet you don’t want him to stop, punch drunk from the way he reaches deep and pulls you tighter against him, hips risen off the bed. 

You’re begging again, eyes rolled so far back in your head you can hardly focus, the coil in your stomach pulled so tight you know it's about to snap.  When Jungkook laughs - a sweet giggle that proves his duality - you clench almost painfully, tears finally spilling over. 

One last brush against your most sensitive spot, one last thrust of that monster cock, and you’re peaking, coming so intensely you feel as if you’re soaring. Everything's suddenly so much more wet, release soaking into the linens beneath you, coating your thighs and his legs and dripping between you.

You’ve never come like this before, without some sort of direct stimulation on your clit.  It’s pleasurable in a different way, severing all your sensibilities, explosive in its magnitude.  It tingles beneath your skin, flooding all your senses. 

"Kook—please—come for me.”  You’re rocking up, forward - trying to, at least, folded as you are - singing his name, pleading for him to fuck his cum into you (momentarily ignorant to the fact that you’ve been responsible, a thin wall of latex separating you from your fucked out fantasy).  

Despite the sensitivity, you’re clenching around him, eager to bring him to his own high.  You want to feel him come apart above you, eroded into a mess like you are.

He’s just as pretty reaching his peak as he is at any other time, handsome face screwed up as if he’s reached nirvana, bliss slacking his features the longer he rides it out, bucking into you as he fills the condom and still doesn’t stop.  It’s almost unbearable, oversensitivity spilling into pleasure until he leisurely grinds to a halt, stops the inconsistent pressure against your bundle of nerves, the assault on your fluttering walls.

When he collapses against you, whole face squished between the valley of your breasts, you can’t help but laugh, the sound breathless and endeared.  “Are you okay?”  You don’t mind where he is, weight comforting, skin sticky on yours.  He’s unbelievably warm - a blanket fresh from the wash and yet so much better, lulling you into a sense of security.

“Better than okay,”  he murmurs against your chest, smothering open-mouthed kisses over skin, snickering when you jolt at the feel of his teeth over your nipple one last time.  “You’re welcome.”  It’s an indulgent, facetious expression of gratitude, one that you haven’t asked for.  You laugh all the same, ducking your head into the crown of spun gold atop his head.  

“You too.”

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @codeinebelle​

[malneiro]

The couch moves, making the villain freeze with a spike of fear, thinking foolishly for a second that it had someone become animated. Then he shakes the thought off and creeps silently around the other side of the couch, hand reaching over for his knife. Was this supposed to be his attempt at an ambush? Pathetic. The villain fought a smile and closed a hand around his knife. Well, he’d just have to teach the bastard that he couldn’t be fooled so easily.

Then the couch moved again, and a head poked up out of the mass of pillows and blankets and upset cushions piled onto it. The villain recognizes the hero and almost strikes, until he sees that the hero hasn’t moved. Not even to ambush him. In fact, his eyes barely focus on him. The villain frowns and relaxes his fighting stance.

The hero’s eyes finally focus on something—the knife in the villain’s hand, pointed at him, though the point has dipped a bit. But he did nothing to try to disarm the villain, he just stared at it, which annoyed the villain. He contemplated stabbing him anyway, but then the hero cooed, “Ooh, is that for me?” with a grin on his face.

The villain lowers his knife out of surprise and glares at him. “I’m sorry, what?” He stands there stupidly, staring at him in shock. Why did he sound excited about having a knife pointed at him?

The hero laughs, letting his head fall back. “Someone’s uptight.” He gives the villain an appraising look, then smiles menacingly. “I can help with that,” he says in a low voice. 

The villain’s eyes widen. “What?” But before he can say anything else, he’s yanked forward by the front of his shirt. Caught off-guard, he stumbles forward and falls forward onto the hero, where the hero tugs him forward until the villain is sitting on his lap. 

“I’m glad you’re here. I wanted you here, but….” The hero cuts himself by kissing the villain deeply and messily, and winds his hands around his waist. The villain jumps and grabs the hero’s arm tightly out of surprise. His stomach burns and falls like the floor’s dropped out from under him and the only thing keeping him from hitting the bottom is the hero, despite how much teeth is in the kiss. It’s desperate and needy, something that he’s not used to feeling in the hero, especially not directed at him.

Then his mind manages to process the rancid burn of vodka in the hero’s mouth. He pulls away from the hero almost immediately, and every strange thing snaps into place. His foggy eyes, the burrow of blankets and pillows, this. “What are you doing?” he hisses. 

“Saying hello,” he murmurs, the same lopsided grin on his face, his hands trying to coax the villain to close the scant space left between them. Now, it makes the villain’s temper flare up. “I missed you.”

“Shut up. Your mouth stinks like vodka, you asshole.” He knocks the hero’s hands off his waist and clambers clumsily off the hero’s lap, trying and failing to do it with dignity. His lips still buzzed with the kiss, but the taste of alcohol overpowered that. Cruel. Cruel. He squints at the mess on the couch, trying to spot the flash of a bottle. It had to be somewhere. 

The hero uses the opportunity to playfully tug on the collar of his coat, tipping the villain off balance. “You’re bluuuushingg.” 

It’s then that the villain’s foot kicks a bottle when he tries to regain his footing. A blanket mostly hid the thing. Otherwise, he might never have spotted it. “Up yours, idiot,” he mutters, bending down to snatch the bottle up. It’s half empty. 

“Hey!” He huffs at the villain and reaches for the bottle, hand waving in the air uselessly. “Come on, give it back.” But, he doesn’t get off the couch. 

“No. What’s wrong with you? It’s not safe to drink like this alone, what were you thinking?” the villain hisses at him. “How much have you had?” He brandishes the bottle.

The hero rolls his eyes. “I’m really not that drunk, calm down.”

“Oh really?” He crosses his arms. “Then come take the bottle back.” He takes a few long strides back, and holds the bottle out. “Come on. I’m right here.”

The hero narrows his eyes at him. “Fine. Asshole.” He pushes himself up off the couch, making several pillows and cushions slide off him and tumble onto the floor in the process. His hand wavers in the air, trying to grab something for balance that isn’t there. He doesn’t look entirely on balance, but he forces himself to take a step anyway, glaring at the villain all the while. For a second, the villain thinks he can make it, but then the hero takes another step and pitches forward. 

The villain dashes forward to catch him, grabbing him by the shoulders, and only narrowly avoids letting him hit his head on the corner of the coffee table. “Jesus Christ,” he snaps, mostly out of fear. What if he hadn’t been there? “How much have you fucking had?” He adjusts his grip on the hero, now limp, so he can drag him back to the couch. 

“Mmmm, you’re warm,” the hero mumbles into his chest, wrapping his arms around the villain and pressing his face up against him. The villain feels suddenly tempted to drop him again, to teach him a lesson. But he sets him on the floor and bends down to haul him up by the waist in a fireman’s carry. The bottle gets set down on the floor on the way. The hero makes an indignant noise, but lets the villain do it. 

“I asked you a question. Answer me,” he says sharply, carrying him out of the living room and down the hall, assuming that’s where the bedroom is. Most of the doors are shut though, so he decides to kick them open until he finds the bedroom. 

The hero sighs. “I don’t know. A lot. Too much. The hell do you care? You making a move or something, sugar?” he says, clearly trying to brush it under the rug. “Bedroom’s at the end of the hall.”

The villain pinches his leg, making the hero yelp. “Shut up. Just shut up. Don’t say anything. Just shut up.” He’s never seen him this way. Not this drunk, not this… well, flirty. What happened? Why?

The hero falls silent as the villain strides down the hall, straight for the door on the end. It’s partly open, so he kicks it open and doesn’t care when the door hits the wall. He goes straight for the bed and lets the hero fall onto it. He groans, and the villain ignores him. He stalks over to the night stand and opens it up. A couple items tumble out, including a worn crime novel that the villain isn’t in the mood to tease him about. But he finally finds a half empty bottle of water. He can feel the hero watching him while he does it, but he ignores him. 

“Please don’t be angry at me,” the hero says, and it sounds so pathetic that the villain almost softens. Almost. 

“Don’t say another fucking word to me. I just… Christ. Fuck you. Fuck you,” he says, trying to keep his voice calm and fails. And he can’t even understand why he’s so upset. He came here to kill him. Or at least try. So he strides across the room and pinches the hero’s nose until he opens his mouth. “Drink.”

“Get off me, I can do it myself, asshole.” The hero bats his hand away and picks his head up to drink from the water bottle.

The silence in the room draws out, as the villain looks for a glass to give the hero. “I just… I just got so tired of being in this empty apartment. Fucking…. When I’m not at work, I’m here. And then, nothing. Urgh. I’m tired of it. Tired of seeing it. Tired of feeling it. Wanted it to go the fuck away.”

The villain shook his head, and yanks a blanket up over the hero. “I could have killed you. Easily. I should kill you. You’re lucky I don’t. What would be stopping me?”

“Then do it.”

The villain freezes, bottle in midair, and looks down at him. He looks defeated, like he wouldn’t even try to fight the villain off if he stabbed him right now. Might even sink the blade in further.  And the villain suddenly feels cold inside. The only reason he’d really try something like that was if he knew the hero would fight him off. “Drink.” The hero picks his head up to take a drink of water, and the villain sighs. “You should have at least called one of your friends over.”

“Fuck you.” The villain drops his hands where he stands by the dresser, and prepares to snap at him, but he stops once he sees his face. Another tear slips down the hero’s face and falls down onto the pillow, quickly followed by another, as he starts openly sobbing. The villain’s heart twists. 

“I take it that you don’t have anyone to call then.” The hero doesn’t answer, he just starts crying harder, his shoulder shaking. The villain watches him awkwardly, unsure of what to do. He made him cry, really cry. Was he truly that alone? So alone that it made him do this? “Um. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to….” He hesitantly reaches down to awkwardly pat the hero on the shoulder.

The hero grabs the villain’s sleeve. “Come down here. I’ve missed you, I need you. Just….You’re here,” he murmurs. Tears are still falling down his face. 

“You’re drunk. And you don’t really want this. Or me. You’ve just had too much. So don’t.” He tugs his sleeve away from the hero’s grip, but gently this time. It would be cruel. To him and to the hero. “What you need is to sleep it off, and hope that you don’t remember this in the morning.”

The hero falls back on the bed and wipes away tears from his cheeks, but it doesn’t do anything. “Fine, believe whatever you want,” he slurs. “Please don’t leave. I just… I really don’t want to be alone right now. Please, I….” He dissolves into sobs, curling in on his side and hiding his face. 

The villain watches him for a long moment, anger twisting up again in his gut. This time, it wasn’t at the hero. Partly it was at himself, for not noticing. This sort of thing didn’t just bubble up overnight. He hadn’t even guessed the hero could feel this way. He had always seemed untouchable, but there he was, bawling his eyes out because he didn’t have anyone to turn to. His fist clenches. How could anyone have let him let into this kind of pain, and done nothing? 

With a frown, the villain settles on his knees besides the hero’s bed. The hero hears the noise and looks up, tears in his eyes. “I’ll stay here until you fall asleep, and I’ll leave some things for you to make waking up easier. Just rest.”

The hero starts crying harder and babbles something that sounds like “thank you”. The villain puts the water bottle down on the floor beside him and reaches up to stroke the hero’s hair, to help calm him down, forgetting his knife. Just for the evening.

[siriushxney]

⊱┊ easily !

pairing — sapnap x gn!reader

wordcount — 2k

warnings — angsty, arguing (happy ending)

song — easily | bruno major

note ! — this is my second time reposting, because tumblr hates my guts and decides to make things repeat/disappear so :|

nothing was easy about love. then again, if love didn’t have it’s bumps and bruises — could it truly be considered love? the act of loving someone is something that is both a blessing and a curse wrapped into one. you see their best, and you see their worst — you deal with, and take all the blows that they take.

and in with love — arguments flare.

some over stupid things, like who would do the dishes, if the other did the laundry, what you were having for diner — but some were harsher. words that neither meant, thrown at the other without care or thought behind them, and actions that despite being little, spoke thousands.

when love begins to bring stress from the arguments, it brings along doubt, anger, and fear. the nagging feeling at the back of your mind that is constantly telling you that you don’t mean anything to them, that you can be easily replaced, that quitting is a valid choice — distance makes an appearance between the two of you.

but when one pulled away, the other reached and pulled them back. it was what love was.

—

sapnap and you had always been an honest couple. sharing everything and anything, never scared to speak your mind, and not afraid of confrontation. but with the both of you being strong willed and blunt, things could get tangled and rough in a matter of seconds — and as of lately, things were rough more than they were enjoyable. fights happened daily, food was consumed in silence, and you had gone to sleep in the guest bedroom. the distance that was now between the two of you was easily notable — even his viewers had noticed something in him had shifted.

with your laptop sat one your lap, you typed away — the assignment that was due in merely a week adding to the already present stress. everything had seemed to be going wrong lately — the topic you were given to research happened to be one of the topics that you had not been quite able to grasp, you had somehow lost your favourite pair of shoes, and everything with sapnap.

you love him, that wasn't something you questioned — but the thoughts of if it was worth it with the direction that the two of you were heading in, plagued your mind. did you want to put yourself through the pain that would come eventually? or did you want to protect yourself from it to the best of your ability?

the words you typed appeared on the screen quickly, but just as fast as they appeared, you were quick to erase them. everything you had typed didn’t quite come out the way you wanted them to — but no matter how much you deleted and retyped them, nothing else came to mind. it almost reminded you of sapnap and your relationship.

after every fight, an apology would be said, but nothing would change. within the next twenty-four hours or less, another one - just like the previous - would take place. you were backspacing, and then rewriting the same thing, over, and over again.

with a frustrated sigh, you closed the laptop and pushed it aside to where your books laid. your hand came up to harshly rub at your sore and tired eyes, wishing that a calm and restful sleep would overcome you. but that was simply a figment of hope that your brain came up with. you had too much to do, to be resting.

the thump of your feet hitting the ground, the loud cracks and pops from stiff joints, and a small grunt filled the room. after sitting in one position for hours, you'd expect your body to be stiff.

“stupid professor, and his stupid assignments,” you huffed as you exited your room, turning your head quitioningly towards sapnap’s recording room, waiting and listening for any sign of him streaming. with no sudden shouts, curses, or screams, you assumed he wasn't — that meant either two things, one, he was in your shared room, or he was downstairs. you hoped it was the previous.

tiptoeing down the stairs, you attempted not to make a noise in the case that he was on the main floor, not wanting to face him after your most recent fight. but the universe seemed to be working against you, as you saw his frame laying on the couch with a movie playing quietly on the tv.

despite being as quiet as you possibly could have been, he had noticed your entrance — his head tilted in your direction before turning his attention back to the movie with a now present frown.

he’s such a child.

then again you were no better.

this game of he said, they said was annoying to you — but in this situation, you felt as if you were correct, just like how he felt like he was correct. neither of you would admit that the other was just as right as you were, both desperate to take a win over the other.

grabbing your keys from the counter top, you started for the front door — your shoes easily being slipped on before you grabbed for the door handle.

“where are you going?” no movie could be heard playing anymore, making it easy to hear sapnap’s voice — something that had been spoken with an emotion that you refused to believe was there — worry.

“I’m just going to the convenience store.”

a small thump, followed by quick footsteps towards your directions caused an unwanted smile to appear on your face. but as quick as it appeared, it was wiped off. sapnap came around the corner, grabbing his shoes and not bothering to put them on — simply holding them in his hands as he gave you a shooing movement.

“c’mon. I’ll come with,” sapnap pushed passed you, through the front door, and towards your car in a haste.

“... okay then.” you closed the door behind you as you stepped out, making sure to lock it before heading to the drivers side — sapnap already sat comfortably inside with his knees and head facing his window.

he was still going to be stubborn, huh?

—

the drive was silent — not that you expected anything else. the music wasn’t even playing loudly — merely soft background noise to keep the both of you from going more insane then you already were. the drive itself should’ve been only six minutes top, had turned into ten — every light being red rather than the preferable green.

your car lurched forward as you angrily slammed your foot on the brake at yet another red light — sapnap and you being abruptly launched forward before coming back and hitting the seat.

“jesus, calm down would you?”

“don’t even start with me,” you didn’t have to look at him to see the way his eyes furrowed and frown deepened.

“what the hell is your problem lately-”

“what the hell is my problem?! you — you're my problem lately, sapnap!” you whipped your head over to him, watching the immediate look of hurt cross his face before it contorted into one anger.

“you know I’m trying here — I thought that us going out somewhere we usually go to would help us, but apparently I was wrong!” sapnap through his hands up in rage. “you make everything so difficult! why can’t you for once in your life, just stop arguing with everything I say and do?!”

the red light still shone brightly — no sign of it changing. and with no cars other than your own on the road at this time of night, there was nothing other than the deep breathing, and the quiet music playing from your radio. neither of you said a word — both of you still trying to wrap your head around not only the others, but your own words.

words that you never meant to, or should’ve said.

you turned your head away from him, trying to hide the way your eyes gleamed with fresh tears — but when they tried to make their way down your face, you brought your palms up to your eyes and pushed. the pressure of your palms helped keep not only the tears, but your anger in.

“Y/N i’m-”

“please can we just not?”

the apology was on the tip of his tongue.

“what are we doing?”

sapnap could feel his mouth run dry, and his chest tighten.

“what?”

“I mean… what are we doing?” your words came out strained and low, the effects of yelling and being yelled at hitting you full force. “this- us — what are we doing here?”

he didn’t know how to respond — the answer for your question had never crossed his mind. to him, despite the arguing and yelling, him and you would never end — it was the two of you till the end. but with you questioning everything right in front of him, he couldn’t help but panic.

“I’m- we’re-” he tried to put words together, but nothing made sense. he wrote and rewrote a script in his head, pleading for something to make sense, or at least help him bring you out of the hole of doubt and questioning you’ve dug yourself into.

nothing comes easily — not skill, not life, not love. you had to work for everything you have, and you will fall, and get scraped, and fail — but things could always be improved, as long as you fought for it.

“we’re doing something that is right — we’re right,” his words were not enough to make you look at him, but he saw your head lift slightly. “we’re not easy — we’re messy, and mean, and for some reason, stupidly stubborn… but that doesn’t mean that we aren't right — arent perfect in our own way,” your head turned more towards him. “we’re not easy, and to be honest, we never will be. that’s just us. and right now, we're in a rocky part — but just because it won’t come easily, doesn't mean that the road we’re on won’t even out once again. you need to trust me, just like I need to trust you.”

a green light shone down onto the two of you, telling you to go — but just like before, no cars were around. it was just him and you.

“I love you Y/N — and don’t you ever forget or doubt that. I’m an asshole sometimes, but I’d never lie to you about that.”

you wished that the seatbelt that held you stills against your seat could vanish so you could tackle him with a hug — but your place on the road, and the now approaching car from behind stopped you from doing so. pushing lightly on the gas, you went through the green light, and pulled into the convenience store that you had been on your way to.

sapnap watched as you pulled yourself from the car quickly, the sense of ache and worry taking over his body as he pulled himself out of the car after you. “look, I’m sorry-” a body crashed into his own, nerely knocking him to the ground — harsh, shaking shoulders and wetness was felt against his chest.

“I’m so sorry — for everything,” you didn’t try to hide your sobs — with the heat of everything going on, you knew it was better to let everything out then to bottle it up. “and I love you so much, you don't even know — everything sucks without you by my side.”

he couldn't stop the tears that filled his own eyes — finally able to hold you again despite the circumstances and what it took to get here. burying his face into the side of your neck, he let his tears fall — the both of you standing, swaying slightly as you let everything go.

you don’t know how long you stayed in the position, but you didn’t care to keep track — your only focus being the boy pressed against you, holding you tightly to his chest, as he whispered soft words of love and apologies.

it wouldn’t come easily, but the least you could do was try.

[happyandticklish]

Interruptions

~Happy Birthday Izaya!~

Summary: Izaya’s busy and Shizuo wants attention. Events occur thusly.

“Stop.”

Another poke, this was one delivered closer to his side.

“I mean it.”

The distracting touch traveled down to his hip and he barely hid his jump.

“Shizuo.”

Shizuo smiled up from where Izaya now gripped both his wrists with a piercing glare. “Pay attention to me.”

Izaya tightened his grip, debating internally, before finally releasing the other and turning back towards his computer. “No. You’re being a child right now. I told you, I’m busy and I need to work.”

This game had been going on all night. Izaya could tell something was up with the other the moment he saw the look on Shizuo’s face upon entering their apartment. Normally Izaya was grateful for Shizuo’s affectionate moods, but that night he had work to get down, a last minute job he had been putting off, and he couldn’t concentrate with the other throwing himself on top of him every five seconds. He had explained this fact to the other in not so patient manner, and thus Shizuo had turned to this particular annoying method. The poking he wouldn’t necessarily mind, were it not for the fact that Izaya was unfairly ticklish and Shizuo absolutely could not know about it.

Izaya flinched as yet another poke was aimed at his side, his nerves flaring momentarily. His hands were paused at the computer, his arms tensed and ready to fly to his defense at a moment’s notice.

Poke.

Poke.

Poke.

Izaya’s lips screwed together in a concerted effort to conceal his growing smile. “Shizuo, I swear to god, if you don’t stop I’ll—”

“What’s with the ‘Shizuo’?” the other inquired tersely, continuing to aimlessly assault his side. Izaya desperately wished he would stop for two seconds so he could in any way coherently continue this conversation. “Normally it’s all ‘Shizu-chan’ this, and ‘Shizu-chan’ that. Why so formal tonight?”

“I thought it irritated you when I called you that,” Izaya said distractedly, not really listening to the other’s words. Shizuo had discovered this one spot on his hip that he kept pursuing with a lazy persistence, and Izaya was slowly folding over his computer, his elbows unconsciously darting in protectively.

Shizuo grunted noncommittally at the argument, which was as good a confession as any that maybe he didn’t entirely hate the nickname. Izaya mentally tucked away the information for later, not that it was of much use right now. Shizuo paused his poking for a moment, and Izaya just managed to exhale a sigh of relief when suddenly two arms were wrapped around him, causing him to tense up once more.

“Shi—” he started, before startling as he felt a pair of lips press a gentle kiss to the nape of his neck. Izaya’s shoulders rose instinctively as Shizuo began the affectionate gesture once more, and dammit why did that still tickle?

“Shizuo, I really am busy,” Izaya snapped, but his words faltered at the end as he found himself caught between pleasure and the unbearable sensation that sent shudders zipping down his spine. His gaze was directed at the computer, and yet he found himself unable to focus on any of the words contained there. “Why is it that you’re so clingy tonight?”

“I missed you,” Shizuo muttered into his hair, the words muffled. Izaya paused at the statement. “You’ve been gone for the past couple days now, and anytime you stop back here you just go back to that damn computer.”

Izaya hadn’t realized it had been that long, but as he thought back on it, he realized the other was right. He had been so absorbed in his task that it had completely slipped his mind that Shizuo might be affected by his absence. Guilt prickled unpleasantly inside him, and he would have offered to spend time with the other then and there were it not for the very real pressing deadline he needed to accomplish.

“I should be done by tomorrow,” Izaya offered as a peace treaty, though he had a feeling that wasn’t true. “Surely you can wait till then?” A sly smirk crossed his features suddenly, and, unable to help himself, he added, “Unless that would be too much for you? Do you really miss me that much, Shizu-chan~?”

Shizuo nipped at his shoulder pettily for that comment, and Izaya yelped, a hand flying back to shove him off. Shizuo raised an eyebrow. “Did I hurt you?”

“No!” Izaya denied quickly, cursing himself for being so stupidly sensitive. “It didn’t, it just, ah—”

Shizuo narrowed his eyes. Experimentally, he leaned down and kissed him again on that same spot, only this time he made sure to be extra gentle, his lips barely brushing the skin. Goosebumps scattered across Izaya’s flesh. His lips twitched into a hint of a smile, but he managed to repress the genuine thing.

“S-Shizuo—”

Shizuo snuck his hands under the other’s shirt, trailing them up his sides as his fingers ghosted feather-like over his skin. Izaya arched back minutely into the other and away from those hands, butterflies erupting in his stomach. “W-Wait—” he choked out, but then Shizuo curled his hands, nails tracing across his ribs as he did. Izaya squeaked, his arms flying up to cover his face and hide his reluctant grin. “Shizuo!”

“You’re ticklish?” Shizuo asked curiously, his words a soft breath against the shell of his ear. Izaya’s shoulders scrunched up protectively.

“N-No!” he insisted, the words coming out far gigglier than he would have liked. Shizuo’s hands were crawling spider-like up and down his ribs, the touch slow and intimate, and Izaya was having trouble not collapsing into a puddle right then and there. “I’m nahat!”

“How come you never told me you were ticklish?” Shizuo asked, his words innocent and inquisitive, which was somehow so much worse than him being mean about it. He seemed genuinely delighted by the discovery. “This is adorable!”

“I-It’s chihihildish—noho!” Izaya curled up in his arms as Shizuo’s fingers strayed too close to his underarms, teasingly circling the sensitive area. Izaya’s hands fisted in his hair, and he found himself torn between shoving the other away and revealing the laughter he was so desperately trying to hold in.

“It’s not childish,” Shizuo dismissed. “Everyone’s ticklish—even adults. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.”

Izaya flushed, trying to ignore the way the other’s reassurance made his heart flutter oddly inside his chest. “S-Shihihizuo!”

“Izaya.”

“Ihihihi neheheheed tohoho wohohork!”

“So work.” Shizuo scratched the spot where his ribs connected to his underarms, the touch devastatingly light. “Just ignore me.”

“Ihihihi cahahahan’t!”

“Mm,” Shizuo hummed unsympathetically. “I guess there’s nothing we can do about it then. You’ll have to take a break.”

Izaya cackled in his arms, squirming at the utterly unfair sensations. He knew, technically speaking, that he could make Shizuo stop if he wanted to. The other was usually fairly self-conscious about his strength advantage, and would instantly back off if the other protested. And yet, Izaya couldn’t find it in himself to put an end to this. Even though he knew it meant his work would remain unfinished for the night. Even though he was going to lose his mind if Shizuo didn’t stop dragging his nails across his skin in that infuriatingly ticklish manner. Despite all of this, he found himself strangely content to lie there laughing in Shizuo’s arms.

He would have time to dissect that thought process later.

“I didn’t know you could be this cute,” Shizuo commented nonchalantly, gently squeezing his hips. Izaya squeaked, drawing his knees up to his chest. “How come you’ve been hiding this side of yourself from me?”

“B-Behehecause yohohou dohohon’t deheheserve ihit—nohoho, stahahap dohohoing ihihit thehehehere!” Izaya hissed, batting weakly at his hands as he continued to torment the spot.

“I think you need to watch your tone,” Shizuo warned, a devious edge to his words. “Or are you forgetting the position you’re in?”

Izaya opened his mouth to throw back another snarky comment, but quickly found himself lost to another flood of laughter as Shizuo discovered how effective of a method digging his thumbs into the slender bone was.

They spent the majority of the evening like that, Izaya curled in Shizuo’s arms whilst the other drew hitching music from his lips with only his fingertips. Izaya never did get around to finishing his work that night, but in the end he had to agree that the break was nice.

[mystic-kitten-writer]

Limerence [M] ︳34

Pairing: Zuko x Fem. OC (Ying Yue Jiang)

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

Rating: SFW

Words: 16100+

Notes: It’s finally up! Sorry it took me so long to edit, I don’t know why, but it kept lagging. I’m probably gonna log on tmw and re-edit because things just kept freezing on here. But take care everyone, and I hope you like it~!

Masterlist ︳33 ︳ 35 [M]

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

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

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

“Lacuna”

(Latin/n.) A blank space, a missing part.

~ Countess Mai ~

           Fucking Ying Yue, that dumb bitc-

           Kissing my teeth disagreeably loud, I could feel the jagged rocks under the thin sole of my shoes, the ground stupidly uneven and uncharted. My breathing came in quick pants, bruises lingering on my arms, thighs burning as we marched up the cliff at a steady pace. The looming trees above provided ample shade and cover, kicking up dust as Azula trailed in front.

           My lips parted, another exhausted breath escaping me as I narrowed my eyes – Azula.

           Her long ponytail swayed side to side like a whip, face void of any expressive emotion, trekking forward with purpose. Her shoulders were squared, not breaking a sweat from the steepness of the hill or the humid air. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve said she was completely fine – but I knew better.

           “Azula,”  I muttered, voice monotoned, barely audible. But the speed at which Azula’s posture tensed proved as evidence that she heard me loud and clear. Still sharp as ever.

           Effortlessly, she looked over her shoulder, raising a perfectly groomed brow at me. “What?” Azula clipped, jaw clenched as she bore over me impatiently. I ignored the sharpness in her tone, a gentle breeze causing the bangs that framed her face to twirl—the way she held her head high, nose in the air.

           Her pace didn’t flatter once, high-tailing at an alarmingly hasty pace. Don’t blame her, the faster we get away from the Kingdom, the better. The scenery around us was different from the last hide-out she brought me to. The landscape seemed thicker, so dense that one could easily scream for help, and not a single soul would hear—a perfect hide-out.

           “Are we close?” I bore, rolling my eyes as my foot nudged a rock. “If I wanted to go on a nature walk, I would’ve gone to work with my sister.”

           The stone tumbled, skipping by Azula’s feet.

           She scoffed under her breath, eyes judging as she twisted her body forward, continuing on her march. “Why, tired? Try not to get your ass kicked by a peasant next time.” Azula expired, and I could hear the way her lips curved upwards at the insult.

           My eyes glowered once more, “Nice scar you have on your hand.”

           Azula stopped.

           The way her hands quaked, balling into fists before letting go-

           My pace eased, cautiously treading behind her before coming to a complete stop, surveying the way she towered above. Despite her back facing me, I could feel it. An aura of malice – down to the twitch in her fingertips.

           I swallowed, seeing the bright pink scar that ran across Azula’s palm. The way the dipping sun managed to seep through the thick bush, seemingly emphasizing how deep the cut ran. It wasn’t a wound for the weak, the skin roughly patched together by her flames. Gross.

           Azula abruptly shook her hand, balling it into a fist as if she could feel my lingering eyes studying the cut in detail.

           “Up ahead,” She spoke, catching my attention, “The cave.”

           I looked beyond Azula, realizing the way the ground evened for a moment, moss-covered rocks looming ahead. The entrance was almost entirely out of sight, only noticeable now that she pointed out the obvious. Trees grew on top of the structure, the dark abyss begging us to enter—the perfect image of a secreted lair.

           My feet itched to move, but I stopped myself, noting that Azula didn’t move a muscle despite us being a few steps away. Fucking- I swore under my breath, flicking my fingers in annoyance.

           “What’s the holdup?” I grumbled, trying my hardest not to roll my eyes once again, but it was her voice. The deadly drop in pitch, the way she hissed.

           “I’ll kill her,” Azula whispered, and I could feel my skin begin to heat up.

           Every word Azula spat was laced with venom, filled with a deep-rooted hatred, a passion and emotion-evoking tone that was all too unfamiliar. Azula, the most put-together being, the only one to keep her composure together, even in the heat of battle. But now-

           The way Azula’s fists trembled, letting her emotions rise to the surface.

           She’s not the same.

           “I’ll make her regret thinking that I’m anything less than perfect.” Azula hissed under her breath, and I grimaced. She didn’t need to say her name for me to know who she was talking about. Her nails dug into the skin of her palm, a bead of scarlet running down her porcelain skin, her wound reopening.

           Soundlessly I watched as the lone droplet of blood dripped onto the dirt below, and just like that – with a quick shake of her hand, Azula walked forward. Her shoulders were relaxed, flicking a strand of hair behind her ears as she casually strolled.

           As if nothing had happened.

           Not a single sound could be heard besides the rustling of the tree branches, Azula’s feet kicking up a trail of dust as she stomped over loose rocks. The only real thing of interest in this forsaken forest was her retreating figure.

           The mouth of the cave eagerly welcomed Azula, the shadows beginning to swallow her body. Just as she was about to take another step, she halted, head tilting as if trying to hear something. She looked over her shoulder, an exhausted look on her face.

            “Stop gawking like a fool, Mai, or else I’ll leave you with the Avatar and his annoying friends.” Azula pestered, her tone oddly tranquil, different from the act moments ago.

           I glared, kissing my teeth as I commanded my feet to move.

           “Whatever,” I muttered petulantly, begrudgingly going as I stripped my gaze away. I could hear Azula snort, rustling onward as I swiftly caught up. The burn in my legs seemed to grow tenfold, the slight pause in our march giving time for my body to take in the damage Ying Yue unleashed earlier. What a nuisance.

           I crossed my arms, eyes looking straight ahead as the space around us darkened the further we descended into the mouth of the cave.

           The air felt abnormally dewy, but it was the uncanny silence as we entered that had my guard rising. The sound of Azula’s and I breathing seemed to have intensified, every sniffle or breaking of a twig ricocheting off the walls at an alarming volume. Watchfully my eyes scanned our surroundings, piles of rubbish sprinkled.

           Food, water canisters-

           “Where the fuck is she?” A man’s voice resonated in the ample space, and my pace flattered. My eyes tapered, taking note of the glowing specs of light up ahead. People, but that voice-

           I knew that voice, and I could feel my gut drop.        

           Memories of Kayto swamped my mind, remembering the final moments of that faithful day. The sound of his body slain from the inside, his last breath, how lifeless his eyes looked-

           “Looking for me, Yakone?” Azula purred devilishly, as she strolled frontward. The illuminations were now in full view, torches laid along with the outermost corners, lighting the space. But that wasn’t what caught my attention.

           It was the tall foreboding man at the center, whose chest was rising and falling, eyes glowing. His fists balled up, nostrils flared the moment he caught sight of Azula, before briefly shifting his gaze on me. His lips pressed tight; jaw clenched as he took a sharp inhale.

           “Where the fuck were you, and why is your fucking finger-puppet here?” Yakone spat, stepping forward, dangerous slow.

           Azula’s body stiffened slightly, but the way she brushed back her long bangs behind her ear, letting a hand rest on her hip as if she was completely unbothered by the beast in front of her. Yakone’s eyes were stone cold, a blue that easily reminded one of the dark depths of the sea, the unknown – danger.

           “Mai is staying with us now.”

           “Isn’t that a fucking treat.” Yakone sarcastically replied, running a hand through his hair.

           Azula’s eyes narrowed, Yakone licking his lips impatiently. “You know what else is a fucking treat, the fact that I just got word that someone tried to kill not only your dumbass brother but Ying Yue.” He bellowed. The veins in his neck bulged as he spoke, and as he took a step headfirst, Azula took a step back.

           Why would Yakone be upset that Azula wanted to kill Ying Yue? Isn’t that plan?

           Carefully I followed her lead, letting my body ease its way to the other side of the stony encasement, and as I shifted, I could see the look on Azula’s face. Her lips pressed, eyes conspicuous as Yakone inched his way closer and closer to her figure. Azula, she’s cowering away-

           “What are you trying to suggest, Yakone,” Azula warned, and he merely hooted, losing his patience by the second. “It was you and your lil’ friend over there, wasn’t it? You tried to kill Ying Yue.” Yakone interrogated, his hands twitching, cracking his fingers.

           She rolled her eyes, “What makes you think I have anything to do with this?”

           My eyes widen, hearing those words leave her lips - Azula’s lying.

           The way Azula effortlessly tried to bypass Yakone’s questioning, acting aloof and unbothered. But I saw the way Yakone rolled his shoulders back, chest buffing. My arms reached into my sleeves, fingers grazing the knives that laid hidden-

           And just like that, Yakone lunged.

           His hand reached forward with speed, grabbing Azula’s by her neck, shoving her against the rocks behind. His fingers spread across her windpipe, nails digging into her skin.

           Azula looked like a hurt puppy.

           The way Yakone effortlessly overpowered her, the grip on his hand tightening, purple and blue bruises rising to the surface of her skin quickly. The sound of my feet shifting over the dirt that decorated the floor caught Yakone’s attention, as he raised his free hand, wiggling his fingers towards me.

           “Fucking try, and I swear I’ll make your death more painful than Kayto’s.”

           I stilled, holding my breath as I watched as Azula’s hands fell over his.

           “What are you doing-” she hissed, eyes crazed as he practically lifted her body off the ground with no struggle. Her feet barely touched the ground, Yakone putting a warning-amount of pressure on her neck, her face turning a light shade of pink.

           “Don’t you ever fucking forget, Azula, who needs who here.” Yakone snarled.

           He leaned closer to her face; their foreheads pressed together as he tousled above. “I agreed to your plan because of two things. No United Nations, and your brother’s demise. One of those things failed, meaning Zuko’s death is the one reason why I’m even here.”

           Azula growled, “I told you I wanted to ruin him, damage him, not kill.”

           “Oh, now we’re getting into technicalities here, and I’m not one for word games. I want Zuko dead, Ying Yue was not apart of this discussion.”

           “What do you expect, Yakone? That she’s going to run and give hugs and kisses to her long-lost Uncle? You’re a criminal.”

           “And what about you, smart-ass?” Yakone shouted, shoving her body further against the rocks. She winced as the sharp edges dug into her back, “You think you’re just going to hurt Zuko and take the throne? You were nothing more but a tool for your father’s failed plan, even your mother, tossed you aside. You’re disposable.”

           The looks on both of their faces, insults and slurs tossed, each one of them raising their voices to beat each other—a shouting match, whose lungs were loudest, who could hurt the other more. I swallowed hard, taking a step back as my arms limply fell to my side.

           The whole time I thought Azula and Yakone shared the same goals, a singular plan in mind. But the way Azula shrieked and Yakone roared had my body feeling numb, their fighting fading to background noise.

           I thought the real threat was Azula and Yakone working together, but I was wrong.

           This was far worse.

           There’s no longer a game plan, a goal, or a motive.

           One wants blood, and the other wants power – both willing to cross each other and lie to get what they want.

 ~ Ying Yue Jiang ~

           “She’s pregnant!”

           “What a blessing, will this be her third child?”

           “Fourth, her eldest is serving in the navy.”

           “Ahh, yes-yes, slipped from my mind. How beautiful, if only I could convince my husband…”

           “Makes two of us. How about you, Imperial Consort Ying Yue? Have you thought about having children of your own?” The ladies giggled, sipping away on their sweet teas in the garden.  

           The cherry blossom branches swayed under the gentle breeze, the pink flowers cascading with the current, fluttering like butterflies. The cool shade painted our skin, providing as an escape from the blaring sun, although the kids didn’t seem to mind the heat in the slightest. Quite the contrary – they were thriving.

           Their laughter was clear as day, ringing throughout the palace gardens, but I couldn’t help but tune in with Kiyi’s the most. The ladies’ banter lost to the birds humming and moving water – absorbed in the beautiful smile on Kiyi’s face as she chatted away with her friends.

           A red and golden embroidered picnic blanket laid over the grass, Kiyi was passing along the turtle duck food for her friends to feed. Her cheeks were dusted in pink, telling them fascinating facts about the creatures from the Southern Water Tribe.

           “After school tomorrow, I’ll read the book to you. They have this animal called a ‘Polar Bear Dog’ – and it’s so cute and fluffy!” Kiyi gushed, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t snort hearing her excitement. The way her eyes twinkled with passion, a small part of my heart hurt – because the look reminded me so much of Zuko’s whenever he got excited.

           Zuko…I miss you-

           “Imperial Consort?” A voice droned; the sound close to my being, I found myself jumping. My head snapped to the women beside me, them staring at me with looks of concern. Shit – what were we talking about again?

           “My apologies, I was watching the children-” I started, and the lady to my side started to snicker. She rose a napkin to her face, delicately tapping the tissue to rid herself of any crumbs that littered her appearance. All the women looked put-together, their hair and makeup done to impress, their clothes extravagant, meant to display their status.

           “I guess that answers our question.”

           “What question?” I inquired, and the ladies began to laugh once again.

           “Whether or not Fire Lord Zuko and you are planning on having children anytime soon.” She replied, shooting me a sheepish smile. My mouth dropped, a shy blush coating my cheeks as a meek oh escaped me. Of course, they were talking about children and family. Almost all the high-ranking nobles were married, most with kids – or pregnant.

           I stuck out like a sore thumb in these ‘royal tea parties,’ unable to relate to the women or men due to my lack of domestic life. I’m a mere child dressed in adult clothes – playing dress-up. My hands fell over my lap after combing my hair behind my ear, carelessly pressing thumbs as a means to keep my composure. I could feel my skin starting to heat up once again.

           Another fever- Katara is going to kill me.

           “Well, if it is not out of line to ask – when do you and Fire Lord Zuko plan on officially tying the knot?” A curious voice peeked, and at the question alone, I found myself reaching for my teacup, stealing a sip of the much-needed chamomile tea.

           Marriage – with Zuko? I fought back the petty laugh. Marriage with Zuko seems more like a distant dream than a reality.

           “Hopefully, once Fire Lord Zuko completes a few of his personal projects. Love is patient after all, and I’ll wait an eternity for him.” I spoke, forcing the words to leave my lips as I swallowed the lukewarm liquid.

           It was comical, how quick they were to eat up my words, gushing about how romantic I was, that I was willing to wait for Zuko – words straight out of a romance novel. If only they knew that that was only scratching the surface of what I would do for Zuko, the things I would sacrifice.

           I could feel my shoulders slump over in defeat, biting my lips anxiously.

           The women didn’t notice the waver in my voice, the blue smile on my face, or the tears that I desperately held back. They were more concerned about the newest designer, skincare product, and fragrance – topics I would’ve undoubtedly been interested in if I didn’t have a looming fog in my mind.

           Politics, it’s all politics.

           The kid’s squeals peeked in volume, catching my attention, the children throwing their napkins in the air, towards Kiyi. What in the world-

           “It’s okay! I’ll be right back!” Kiyi insisted before standing up.

           Her black hair bobbed side to side, skipping towards me at full speed. Droplets of something dripping after every bounce, tainting the green coloured grass under her steps, seeping into the soil.

           “Button-” I cooed, letting my tea rest on my plate before outstretching my arms. My hands caressed her face, and the happiness in her expression had me sporting a smile – a genuine smile. Kiyi was a breath of fresh air. Youthfulness and innocence, a heart of pure gold.

           “What happened, button? You’re a mess.” I snickered under my breath, watching the sticky liquid trickle from the hem of her dress, her lap completed covered. She scratched her head, shooting me a spirited grin. She looks just like Zuko when she smiles like that-

           “An accident, I didn’t see the jug of juice, and I kind of hit it.” Kiyi giggled, and I couldn’t help but snort, running my hand through her loose locks. “You’re so silly, button. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” I assured, light-heartedly tapping her nose.

           Kiyi nodded her head before shifting her gaze to the women I was seated with. My eyes followed hers, flustered at how the women looked over us with broad smiles – hearts for eyes.

           “I bet on two kids.”

           “Really? I think one.”

           “Wouldn’t be surprised if they already have a name picked out.” The ladies bantered between themselves as if I wasn’t currently sitting with them.

           I could feel a tiny finger poke my cheek, looking back at Kiyi, a teasing smile on her face. And seeing her sport that knowing look, a look that reminded me of a harmonious mixture of Zuko’s and Toph’s ‘I’m up to no good’ had me freezing.

           Oh no-

           “Izumi – Zuzu told me that that’s the name they want,” Kiyi spoke up, catching on to the topic at hand far too quickly for my liking. The women all leaned over in disbelief, jaws hitting the table, struggling to process the very thing Kiyi blurted.

           My eyes widen, the silly banter of family life between Zuko and I exposed. When and why did Zuko tell Kiyi this information-

           “Button-”

           “And Zuzu said they have a baby room set up in their vacation house! I can’t wait until I become an aunt. He said it’s a very serious job and-” My hand fell over Kiyi’s lips, cutting her off midsentence as I shot the women an embarrassed smile.

           The redness of my face was no longer due to my impending fever – but out of the utter realization that Zuko seemingly unleashes all his damn soft and fluffy feelings to her. Kiyi really is Zuko’s weakness, isn’t she?

           “Let’s get that dress cleaned button,” I said through awkward giggles, hand still firmly placed over her face, Kiyi letting out squeals of delight through my fingers.

           “Yue and Zuzu, sitting on a-”

           “Throne because he’s Fire Lord and I’m his-”

           “Wifey.” Kiyi managed to yelp.

           The speed at which my body moved, not bothering to say my goodbyes to these royals, as I nudged Kiyi’s body forward with my own. There was no way in the spirit world I was going to look behind me, already imaging the sunny looks on those women’s faces hearing the fuss coming from Kiyi’s lips.

           “I swear, button, I’m going to revoke cookie dates from you!” I mumbled under my breath, feeling the way Kiyi’s body shook from joy. My hand slipped from her mouth, her face pink as she held her stomach, her laughter loud and proud. And despite the embarrassment and exasperation, I found myself laughing along with her.

           There was something about hearing a child’s guiltless laugh that was contagious, especially coming from Kiyi. The smile on my face was enormous, reaching my eyes. When was the last time I smiled this much? The last time I laughed freely, enjoying my time?

           “You’re so much trouble, button~.” I blew, hands falling over her shoulders, embracing her. My fingers squeezed her chubby cheeks from behind basking in the sun’s heat before we walked up the palace steps. The guards before us opened the grand doors, observing the way I coddled Kiyi to my body. Like a momma bear.

           There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that they didn’t already know the trouble Kiyi could cause in less than a minute – the reason why they all sported small grins watching us enter.

           A handful, just like her brother.

           We stepped inside the Kingdom, walking side by side, glued to the hip, humming happily. Our footsteps pattered along the flooring, heading towards her room, but I saw the cheeky glances Kiyi tried to steal from the corner of her eyes, studying my figure. She thinks she’s so sly.

           I snickered at her childish behaviour, poking her cheek, “What are you staring at so much, button? Do I have some crumbs on my face?”

           “No~.” Kiyi giggled, tilting her head to the side.

           “Then tell me, button.” I pestered, enjoying her coyness. Her blush deepened, a flush I didn’t notice until now, before poking her one more time, “Tell me, what are you staring at so intently?”

           “You’re smiling again…you’re pretty when you smile.” Kiyi breathed.

           Our paces stilled; my breathing hitched as Kiyi wore the saddest smile on her face. An expression no child should ever have to wear. My shoulders dropped in surprise, not fully processing the words she spoke.

           “Ever since Zuzu got this cold, you’ve been really sad…you must miss him a lot, I can tell.” Kiyi uttered. Her tone dripped with distress, only then noticing where her golden eyes were settled over.

           Men and women dressed in red with badges strapped to their arms. The cross-shaped icon of their insignia standing out amongst their outfit. They were moving around us hastily, clipboards pressed against their chests, giving us quick bows before running through the large doors before us.

           The Infirmary.

           How did I not notice before?

           “I want to visit Zuzu, but Mom told me that I couldn’t. She said that he’s sleeping, but-but he’ll wake up soon…” Kiyi continued, although the more she spoke, the quiver in her voice grew. I breathed in deeply, hearing the pain in Kiyi’s words. Gosh, of course, she misses Zuko.

           They’re two peas in a pod – an inseparable duo. I watched as Kiyi sprung side to side, a whirlwind of emotions flying by. But what pained me the most about this was the fact that Kiyi didn’t know a single thing, the truth.

           A nasty cold – that’s all it was.

           “I’m going to pick some flowers for Zuzu for your bedroom! He loves it when I pick him flowers. Can I do that, Yue?” Kiyi questioned, and I smiled at the positive idea, the ache laced in her tone already lost, a chirpiness finding light. Seeing how quick she bounced back to her upbeat self, pushing past the sad thoughts, the spirit of a Firebender.

           My knees bent, going down to her height, our pupils leveled.

           “Zuko would love that, button.” I whispered docilely, brushing her black locks behind her ear, “Any gift from you would make him smile.”

           My smile grew, seeing how a faint pink painted her cheeks, like tiny pink stars that decorated the starry night. “Yue…can I-can I ask you for a favour?” Kiyi questioned shyly, looking down at her toes, her hands stuffed into her dress pockets. I let my finger dip underneath her chin, compelling her gaze to met mine.

           “Anything button.”

           “I-I made a get-better card for Zuzu in school today. Can you-can you give it to him?” Kiyi requested, pulling from her pocket. My eyes dipped, noticing the little red card appear from her dress, astonished it wasn’t ruined from the juice spilling over her lap. A large sun was painted in front with a smiley face, ‘Get better Zuzu!!!!’ scribbled across.

           The smile from my face flattered, lips parting as I took in what Kiyi asked me to do – the effort she put into this card. She wants me to give this to Zuko? My eyes snapped back to her, taking in the look of pure and utter determination on her face.

           There was nothing more Kiyi wanted at this moment than for her big brother to have this card.

           I opened my mouth to say something – but I couldn’t, lips trembling as I struggled to think coherently. The feather-like footsteps from the maids and nurses around us seemed to intensify, sounding like thunder. Blood rushing to my head as the thought of seeing Zuko’s resting figure tormented my mind.

           Kiyi will be heartbroken if I say no, but Zuko-

           “Button, I-I-” I stammered agonizingly, unable to find the right answer, trying to catch my breath. But the look on Kiyi’s face. Gosh, the similarities in expressions with Zuko, it was baffling.

           I can’t hurt her like this, but to see Zuko after so long-

           A delicate hand fell over my shoulder, like a plume, and Kiyi’s eyes widened in surprise before shooting the stranger behind me a joyful smile. I flinched at the unexpected tender touch over my kneeling figure. The familial grasp accustomed.

           “Avatar Aang!”

           “Hi Kiyi, what are you two doing over here? Planning on visiting your brother with Yue?” Aang spoke light-heartedly from behind, his pitch higher in tone than usual. I could feel the way his hand shifted over my shoulder, his fingers wrapping around my body, squeezing.

           He’s telling me to relax-

           “No~. I can’t visit, grown-ups only. But I made a card for Zuzu, and I want Yue to give it to him!”

           “A card, so thoughtful, Kiyi! It’s been a while since Yue saw your brother. What a perfect reason to see him now.” Aang casually spoke, his playful and cheerful aura shining through. And while any other day I would’ve gushed about how well Aang was with children, my mind focused on the words he uttered. I knew the double meaning.

           “Aang-” I warned with a batted breath.

           A cold sweat started to form on my eyebrow, the fever and impending panic attack beginning to work its way back to the surface no matter how hard I tried to shove the looming emotions away. I didn’t need to look over my shoulder, as I could feel Aang’s usual doe-like eyes boring holes into the back of my head, goosebumps rising on my skin.

           “I was going to see Zuko right now. I can go with Yue.” Aang continued, and I could hear the smile on his face. But despite the casual tone, there was an unspoken sternness. He wasn’t leaving this up for debate.

           Kiyi, utterly oblivious to Aang’s underlying message, squealed in delight. She shot me a great smile, a smile that had my stomach in knots as her tiny hands gripped my own, tugging on my sleeves. The excitement that ran through her body, practically jumping and standing on her toes.

           “Thank you, Yue! You’re the best; I’m so lucky to have a big sister like you. No wonder Zuko says he wants to marry you!” Kiyi gushed, and I could feel my skin begin to prickle. Zuko wants to marry me- “I can wash up by myself, so don’t worry about me, Yue! Here is the card-” Kiyi rushed, shoving the fragile thing into my grip.

           But what caught me off guard the most was the way Kiyi leaned towards me, pressing her puckered lips against my cheek. The feeling of her pouting lips, planting a gigantic wet kiss, had me blushing with happiness. It was adorable, sweet, a gesture that I didn’t deserve.

           “You’re the best; I love you!” Kiyi blurted all in one breath.

           No, I’m not, I’m far from ‘best,’ and even farther from ‘good.’

           “I love you too, button.” I hummed, pressing a bittersweet kiss on her cheek before she pulled away. She glowed at the words of endearment, waving at Aang before skipping down the hallway. I watched as she clasped on her juice-covered dress, giggles flowing from her innocent lips as she danced away, her figure becoming nothing more but a fleeting dot.

           It was Aang’s moderate tap that pulled me away from my trance, looking over my shoulder to see him standing in those mustard coloured robes of his.

           “Let me help you up, Yue.” Aang hummed as he reached, our fingers brushing against each other. He tugged me forward easily, letting me find my footing, as I dusted off my dress. As I patted down, I couldn’t help but let my digits slide over the hand-made card Kiyi gave me.

           The large sun she had painted with a cheery smile, staring back at me almost mockingly.

           Why did it hurt so much to see this card?

           “You’re flushed, Yue. Is your fever back?” Aang worried, stepping closer as he carefully inspected my figure. The further he inched his way towards me, I found myself blinking rapidly, taking in Aang’s appearance.

           The deep circles under his eyes, cheeks a bit more hollow than usual, highlighting his cheekbones in an ill manner. Even his brown eyes that were usually light in colour seemed darker, murky.

           “Aang, you look unwell-”

           “Guess that makes two of us.” Aang laughed under his breath, letting the back of his hand fall over my forehead. His soft skin brushed against mine, sweeping aside whatever baby hairs decided to escape from my current updo. The coolness from his body had me sighing in relief. How an ice bath seems far too tempting at the moment.

           Aang glowered, pulling his hand back, and I couldn’t help but gripe under my breath – my five second-cooling pad gone. “Let’s go see Katara about this fever. You’re burning up; this isn’t good...” Aang started, and I shook my head.

           “Don’t worry, Aang, she’s with Zuko and I-and I have things I have to do,” I spoke, voice unsteady as I tried to sound put-together. Instinctively, I sharpened up shoulders, chin up, trying to appear presentable—the same go-to movements I often did with the other royals and councilmembers.

           Yet the moment I breathed in deeply, back straight, I couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling of feeling stupid. Standing here with Aang, forcing myself to seem normal, happy, okay, had my whole act in shambles. Because while I was able to put on the perfect façade with everyone, Aang was family.

           The way his shoulders dropped, eyes rounded, and arms ready to embrace – he already knew that I was in so much emotional and physical pain. Every day was a struggle to get out of bed, to eat, to work. I bit my lip, letting my fingers dance with the card Kiyi left behind. I can’t do this.

           I rose it, extending it towards him, “H-here, please give this to Zuko.”

           Aang’s eyes widen, lightly pushing the card back towards my chest. “Kiyi asked you to do this, Yue.” Aang reasoned, shaking his head, and I swallowed dryly.

           He doesn’t get it.

           “I-I can’t, Aang-” I inhaled, and Aang blew, “How long are you going to go not seeing Zuko, Yue. He needs you-”

           “I’m busy-” I struggled, and Aang scoffed, his palms falling over my arms.

           He ran his hands up and down, trying his best to comfort me despite the busybodies swimming by us. And for a split moment, I found myself slowly starting to ease in the act, before Aang spoke once more.

           It was like the room around us disappeared, the people, the noise, everything gone. My vision tunnelled on the way Aang moved his lips, ears listening to his usually airy voice utter the heaviest, heart-wrenching truth.

           “It’s been a week, Yue. A whole week, and you’ve never visited him once.”

           I swore, realizing I caused a dent in the corner of the delicate card from my shuddering hands, hearing Aang’s blunt revelation. A-a whole week?

           A whole week I went without seeing Zuko, and the sense of overwhelming dread weighed down my shoulders, stressed to process the information. I swallowed back a sob, cradling the card to my chest as the space around me felt like it was enclosing, the air too thick to breathe, burning my throat-

           “Yue, watch out-” Aang exclaimed.

           A maid bumped her shoulder against mine abruptly, causing me to wobble in my spot.

           The room spun, Aang’s arm reaching forward, grasping my elbow securely as a means to steady my dazzled state. The maid’s eyes widening in shock as she took note at the way my feet tumbled over each other for a moment, Aang desperately trying to help me find my state of balance.

           “My apologies, Imperial Consort Ying Yue, I was not watching where I was going- Imperial Consort Ying Yue? Are-are you alright?” The lady asked, her brows pinching together as she thoughtfully inched forward. It was then I realized how frazzled I undoubtedly looked.

           My whole body squeezed inwardly, clenching onto the card Kiyi gave me to my chest for dear life. I gulped, nodding my head nervously, “I-I’m fine, please, don’t apologize. I was lost in my thoughts; it’s my fault. I have to go now.” I exclaimed, forcing a smile on my face to the maid as she worriedly nodded and carefully bid her farewell.

           Aang’s grasp on my elbow stiffened, shifting my gaze back to him as she left, “Yue, you need to see Zuko eventually. You promised Kiyi.”

           “I will, just not now.” I wheezed, and the frown on Aang’s face grew, “You’ve been saying that all week.”

           “Because I’m busy, I made a vow-”

           “Work can wait, Yue. You shouldn’t even be working; you’re exhausted. Have you seen yourself?” Aang puffed, shaking his head in frustration as his fingers unknowingly dug deeper into my arm. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, you have a fever, you look sick. I’m worried-” Aang tried to reason, and I grimaced at his words.

           I knew how terrible I looked.

           Every night I tossed and turned in bed. No number of blankets, no number of pillows, not even sleeping in Zuko’s old T-shirts, seemed to do the trick. And those rare moments, where I did manage to close my eyes, were only filled with nightmares. Vivid images of the pained expression on Zuko’s face, him struggling to breathe, the way he looked at me.

           He hates me-

           A shaky exhale left me, “A-Aang, I can’t see Zuko-”

           “Stop punishing yourself, Yue.” Aang snapped, his voice sharp.

           The people around us all stilled for a moment, undoubtedly hearing Aang raise his voice, a tone I have only listened to a handful of times. They stared at us, looks of confusion and alarm stamped on their faces before they cautiously treaded around us, dashing through the infirmary doors, or down the hallway.

           Aang’s face was pink, the grip on my arm constricting as he blew stridently. It was like the emotional turmoil inside the both of us snapped, lashing out towards each other with no real reason. The weight of the whole week, the stress of running around, was eating us all alive.

           I ripped my arm from his grip with a cry, taking a step back as my bottom lip quivered. “You don’t understand, Aang.” I gulped, head shaking as I took another weak step backwards. The way my body trembled, thankful I didn’t trip over my feet.

           It was like all the pain and confusion was evident in my face, Aang’s expression softened, realizing how his temper flared for that split moment. Rubbing his face in defeat, he sighed heavily.

           “Then talk to me, Yue.” Aang pleaded as his voice strained with need, “Zuko needs you so much right now, you’re the only person he’s ever opened to like this. He loves you more than anything else in the world-”

           My breathing hitched, body stilling at Aang’s words. Memories of Mai and I’s interaction a week ago entering my mind-

‘Zuko would never love a monster like yourself. Not after everything you’ve done.’

‘All this drama happened because of you.’

‘If anyone gets hurt, it’s all your fault.’

           My lips parted, a wheezy gasp leaving me as I struggled to talk – as if someone kicked me in the gut. “I need to go-” I said, eyes unable to focus onto Aang, everything around me turning into one giant blur.

           “Yue-”

           “I need to go; I have work I need to do,” I spoke harshly, face impassive as I dodged his reach. Aang’s soft pleas, desperately trying to grab hold of me, the sleeves of my dress slipping through his fingers like water as I twisted on my heel.

           Scurrying through the people in the hallway, hand clasping over the card Kiyi had drawn, my teeth dug into my lips, the taste of iron filling my senses. I need to go; I need to go-

           But…

           I don’t want to go.

             I let out a tired sulk, staring down at the black ink that stained the document before me. My signature looked like a two-year-old drew it, lines shaky and blotchy. What’s wrong with me? It’s like I forgot how to write, the ink practically pooling at the bottom of the page.

           It seemed like instead of spilling the ink all over the desk, like I’ve been doing this past week, I decided to pool it at the bottom of each document I’ve signed. Each paper that I touched with the tip of my golden pen, sporting its own artistic touch of ‘blotches.’ Every hour, the specks and chaos were getting worse.

           Maybe I could play it off as some modern artistic signature style?

           I snorted at my foolishness; shoulders slouched as I hesitantly rose the heavy pen in my hand back towards the paper. My eyes wearily scanned the document, trying to think of any possible way to save the work.

           At this point, anything would do.

           One paper, I just needed one article this evening to have a pretty signature. That’s it. Cautiously, I inched the pen towards my scribbles, biting my lip as I held my breath. And just like that, I swore.

           The sound of wet paper ripping as the golden tip stabbed through, the paper giving way to the sheer volume of ink and pressure. A loud whine escaped me, pen slipping from my grasp as I let my body fall against the desk, head thumping against the wood. Why can’t anything go right for once?

           Papers flew into the air, cascading downwards like fluttering butterflies, falling onto the floor. The unrelenting throbbing of my head grew tenfold. Either from banging it against this wooden desk or the utter frustration that coursed through my veins – my bet is both.

           My hands spread wide, flush with the study, nails digging and scratching at the surface.

           “Get it together, Yue. You’re not going to cry over a damn signature.” I blubbered, lip rolling between my teeth, forcing my eyes shut to prevent that stupid tear from rolling down my cheek. The taste of old blood still lingering on my lip from biting it roughly earlier on in the day with Aang.

           I whipped my head back, sitting upright, forcing my eyes open.

           “Don’t you dare cry.” I hissed to myself, as my chest tightened.

           The room was deathly quiet, only the dim lights from the candles spread about lighting the area. Eerie shadows from the décor scattered throughout the room had a restlessness settling in my stomach, the air stuffy. Every creak of the wooden floors, the flicker of light felt like a spirit hiding in the shadows, ready to lunge and attack.

           The room didn’t feel like home.

           I didn’t get the butterflies when I sat in this chair, skin warm and giggling non-stop.

           Nothing felt like home anymore.

           Because Zuko was home, dummy.

           “D-don’t cry,” I repeated like a mantra, blinking rapidly to stop the tears that so desperately wanted to fall. “It’s a signature, j-just a signature. Who cares?” I reasoned loudly, undoubtedly the guards on the other side questioning my sanity. But the more I spoke, the further my voice cracked, my emotions and logic fighting fiercely against one another.

           Helplessly my gaze wandered about the room, trying to distract myself, anything to push the too real of emotions away. I could hear my heartbeat thumping in my ears, every single thing my eyes settled upon evoking another, stronger emotion.

           The simple door at the other end of the room had me recalling those times I would sneak in here to surprise Zuko during work. The way his face would light up, more often than not, sighing in relief and beckoning me to his side. ‘Just who I needed, my baby’ Zuko would often coo, his hands brushing back my hair, tangling themselves.

           Or what about this desk?

           The number of times I sat on this thing, Zuko and I teasing each other, bantering about nonsense. ‘You’re so needy, love. Always needing hugs and kisses,’ Zuko would complain, only to pull me close. Fitting perfectly between his legs as he planted chaste kisses over my head, whispering sweet nothings.

           I sniffled, nose runny as my eyes fluttered shut.

           ‘Mmm, my one and only, baby’ I could vividly recall Zuko droning into my ear just last week, arms wrapping around my waist, fingers dancing over my skin. His warmth, his touches, his kisses.

           Zuko loved me in those moments, he really did, and I ruined it all.

           “Why now? Of all the times, why do I have to remember this now?” I whimpered under my breath, pain radiating up my nails as I burrowed into the wood beneath me. For days upon days, I drowned myself in work—anything to keep my mind off Zuko, avoiding the Gaang like the plague.

           This wasn’t about the stupid signature, gosh, it was so much more.

           My thoughts ran wild, switching between the happy moments Zuko and I shared, to the look of absolute horror once he realized what I was. But the cherry on top, the gut-twisting moment that had a small cry leaving my lips was Mai’s words that faithful day.

           The way Mai’s eyes looked down from above, an expression filled with sadness and pain etched into her very soul. Her tough shell crumbled for that tiny instant; her winded whisper engraved into my mind.

           ‘Remember, Yue. If you really love Zuko – want the best for him. You know what to do.’

           “B-but I don’t want to go.” I weakly snivelled, confessing that very thing I was trying to ignore. The festering and unavoidable topic at hand, the decision that kept me up at night, the reason why I couldn’t look at Ursa or Noren in the eye. I want to stay here, by Zuko’s side. I can’t hurt him like that, leave him after everything he’s been through-

           But this isn’t about you; a dark voice echoed into my mind; this is for Zuko, his safety.

           But he’s home-

           He doesn’t love you, you’re a monster, forever and always.

           My eyes snapped open once more, vision blurry as tears build up, freely falling down my face. “I’m losing home.” I sniffled, heart aching as I tried my hardest to swallow down my sobs. I didn’t want the guards who stood on the other side of that door to hear me, to feel burdened by my distress.

           Now is not the time to make others worry.

           I just need to continue ruling the Kingdom until Zuko gets better and then-

           Weakly, I wiped the tears from my eyes, taking deep lungsful as a means to control my emotions. My cheeks hurt from the crying, nose a bright red, no doubt, as I wiped the final tear from my eyes. I don’t even want to know how I look like at the moment.

           My vision cleared, a shaky breath leaving me, as I sat straight. Another hour of work and then you can try to sleep this all off. I wiggled my way into Zuko’s chair, trying to find a comfy spot to zone out my thoughts and fix my terrible signatures, only to freeze.

           There, at the very edge of my desk, stood that perfect red card.

           The bright yellow sun smiling at me, Kiyi’s adorable cursive scribbled on the front.

           “Get better, Zuzu,” I whispered, a small smile emerging on my face as the words flew from my lips.

           Memories of Kiyi’s, bouncing from joy in her spot as she said she loved me, that I was the best big sister. Hands shaking, I found them stretching before me without thinking. Leaning forward and pressing myself against the desk, my fingertips grazed the edge of the card, drawing it closer.

           I couldn’t help but caress the soft paper, feeling where the paint stuck, the paper slightly wrinkled. With much care, I brought it close to my face, eagerly musing over every paint stroke, every sparkle, the love etched into this simple card.

           It was funny how the little things in life take up the most space in your heart.

           How a simple card caused the warm fuzzy feelings, the feelings I haven’t felt in almost a week, to appear. The dashing butterflies in my stomach, cheeks glowing in glee, the emotions and reactions that would often appear whenever I was with Zuko. A fleeting moment of complete and utter bliss, happiness.

           I want to see Zu-

           A knock on the door stripped me from my thoughts, jumping in my seat.

           The way my eyes bugged out, staring at the door with my jaw dropped, not at all anticipating such a powerful knock, let alone at this moment. My head snapped side to side, hastily taking note of the mess spread around.

           “Umm, o-one minute, please!” I shouted, mortified beyond belief.

           My hand grabbed the papers that were within reach, almost throwing myself over the table as I greedily swiped all the blotched documents towards me. Shit-shit-shit, where am I going to put all this? And that’s when I spotted the small white bin that stood at my feet, and without thinking twice, I tossed all the papers inside.

           I’ll take care of this mess after.

           “C-come in!” I awkwardly muttered, sniffling as I stared forward.

           A moment of silence fell over me before the front door flew open with a bang. My head tilted to the side, watching with interest as a short man dashed inside. His black clothing made him look like a shadow, making his way towards me as if he’s been inside here countless of times, knowing the room like the back of his hand.

           The door swayed close behind him, the man's hands raised as he adjusted the thick red scarf wrapped around his shoulders and neck. “Fire Lord Zuko.” The man huffed, pulling the veil down his face, exposing his sharp nose, “I have news about Ax-”

           His dark cat-like eyes lined up with mine, his thin pink lips forming an ‘O’ shape as he froze in his spot. We stared at each other, looks of confusion and amusement flashing between us, neither one of us knowing who we were in relation.

           I found my gaze falling over the man’s features, taking note of the faint wrinkles that appeared on his face, his skin tanned. As if he realized that I was studying him intently, curious as to who he was, a faint flush coated his cheeks.

           “Y-you’re not Fire Lord Zuko.” The man buzzed, his tone low and taut.

           I let out a breathless giggle, entertained by the expression on his face.

           He looked utterly taken off guard, stunned, like a confused child. And seeing such an expression on a man who was currently dressed in a skin tight-suit, weapons undoubtedly concealed underneath was such a contrast. I found myself easing in my seat, something in me telling me he wasn’t a threat, despite his harsh facial structures and odd clothing.

           I saw the way he eagerly studied my sitting figure, and like something clicked he quickly bowed, “You must be- Imperial Consort Ying Yue, my sincere apologies-”

           “Please, it’s okay.” I quickly retorted, standing up from the chair as I waved away the formalities. My eyes scanned his face once again, trying desperately to place a name. He seems unfamiliar, I’ve never met this man before, have I?

           “Is there something you need? Fire Lord Zuko is not available at the moment, but I can do whatever I can.” I started, and the man merely shook his head, hand scratching his head. “Unfortunately, I need to speak with Fire Lord Zuko, directly. Do you know where I could find him?”

           My lips parted, a sad smile forming on my face, as I eased my way around the chair, walking around the desk. He doesn’t know- Even the man in front seemed to notice the way my body altered, a sudden heaviness in my step. I let my hand slide down my lap, fixing any wrinkles that may have appeared.

           “Fire Lord Zuko is ill at the moment; I’m temporarily stepping into his role. But if there’s anything I can do-”

           “He’s ill?” The man exclaimed, and I puckered, nodding my head.

           “This whole week…” I spoke, and the man clicked his tongue, running his hands through his hair. He did not want to hear that. He began to grumble under his breath, mumbling incoherent, but I could sense the frustration from him.

           I couldn’t help it, watching over him, feet moving on their own, inching closer towards him: the sharp eyes, sun-kissed skin. Just who is he?

           “My apologies, but who are you, may I ask?”

           He looked taken aback by the question, before chuckling bashfully under his breath. “I promise I do have better manners than this, Imperial Consort.” He droned, shaking his head in shame before giving me a broad smile.

           “I go by Mihir; I’m an informant, I work directly under Fire Lord Zuko’s authority.” He started, and the moment his name left his lips, my eyes widen.

           The beach house.

           I stepped forward, a pout on my face as I pointed a finger, “It’s you. The man who kept calling Zuko when we were on vacation- you kept stealing Zuko from me!”

           He looked taken aback, raising his hands in front of him as he shook, hearing the high pitch in my voice as I squealed. “S-sorry, Imperial Consort. I didn’t mean to bother you during your vacation-” he stumbled, and I huffed under my breath.

           “It’s fine, knowing Zuko, he made you work. That man doesn’t understand how to relax.” Gosh, if Zuko knew I stuffed the bin to the brim with paperwork, he would’ve killed me.‘Hiding paperwork doesn’t make the work go away, love’ I could already imagine Zuko grumbling, hearing his voice vividly in my mind. I smiled to myself despite the annoyance.

           Zuko would pinch his nose, and then complain about how the papers are all wrinkled-

           “You know Fire Lord Zuko well.” Mihir chuckled under his breath, a blush creeping onto my cheeks as I realized I zoned out for a moment. I timidly brushed whatever hairs fell from my ponytail, biting my lip as I looked down at the floor.

           “I admire his work ethic, even though it drives me nuts sometimes. There isn’t a day where he isn’t doing something, improving himself or helping others. I-I always adored that.” I rambled, mentally slapping myself. Why is it that, whenever Zuko is brought to topic, I find myself blurting another thing I adore about him?

           Mihir mused at my words, crossing his arms, “Fire Lord Zuko…he talks about you…a lot.”  My gaze snapped upwards to meet Mihir’s, a gentle smile on his face.

           He didn’t seem like a man who smiled often, but it suited him. Even though every expression of Mihir’s had this stoutness to it, I couldn’t help but notice the softness in this man’s soul. I think I know why Zuko trusts him.

           “I guess I’ll come back tomorrow. Hopefully, Fire Lord Zuko feels better and can arrange a moment with me. I’ll leave so you can go see him now, give him my regards.” Mihir spoke, and my head tilted, raising a brow.

           “What makes you think I’m seeing him now?” I blurted, confusion written on my face. Mihir chuckled, raising his scarf over his face, “Because you’re holding that ‘get better Zuzu’ card.”

           His cat-like eyes were the only visible part of his body, stepping back as he placed his hand over his chest, “And based on the way you’re holding it, tight and close to your heart, shows me it’s important. That you care and worry about Fire Lord Zuko, maybe even more than you realize.”

           He bowed from his waist down before opening the study door, just a crack – slipping through like the wind. It softly shut behind him, leaving me alone in the middle of the room. My mouth dropped, looking down at my hands to realize Mihir was right.

           This whole time…I-I was holding the card.

           The sun smiled back at me, and I couldn’t help but smile again, no longer experiencing that mocking feeling like I was earlier in the day. “A promise is a promise…” I whispered, and I twirled on my feet, walking towards the candles that littered the room.

           My lips puckered, blowing out each one, dashing. The way I spoke to Aang, the promise I made to Kiyi- I don’t want my time here to end like this, on such a sour note.

           I want to see Zuko – one last time.

             Thumbs twirling, a large pout settled as I waltzed down the red hall, the infirmary just around the corner.

           My dress rustled as I walked, the clicking sound of my heels, bouncing off the walls of the almost wholly deserted Kingdom. One or two servants would come down ever so often, smiling sweetly before continuing on their way. They all bore tired expressions, ready to go home for the night, until tomorrow.

           I pressed the card Kiyi made close to my chest, hands shaking slightly.

           The moon was high in the night sky, admiring the reflection it drew on the water in the pond. Despite the distance, I could spot the faint ripples, turtle ducks calmly floating below the waterfall, enjoying the chill air the Fire Nation had to offer.

           Another puff left me, lost in my thoughts as I continued on my walk, eyes settling upon the flower petals that fell from the trees. To think that just hours ago, I was under a tree, the hot air and beaming sun radiating upon my skin. Now an odd sense of peace filled the air, the children's laughter, the women’s gossip just remnants of time.

           One more walk in the gardens with Zuko.

           I would’ve loved that.

           The warmth of Zuko’s hands in mine, his fingers rubbing the skin between my thumb and pointer, humming our soft tune. Or maybe us playing in the water with Kiyi once again, Iroh and Ursa laughing in the background, shaking their heads in amusement.

           “Yue?” A voice breathed, so light, quieter than a whisper, that for a moment, I thought I imagined it. My brows pinched together, raising my hand to my head as my pace flattered. Did I- am I so tired I’m hearing things right now?

           I shook my head, scoffing to myself.

           My eyes burned, throat rough as I swallowed hard. The events of the day had my hands cramped and body aching. “Get it together, Yue,” I grumbled under my breath, forcing my feet to move. I let my hand drop from my forehead, resting it along the palace walls – pivoting to turn the corner before I stopped abruptly in my tracks.

           “Yue.” The voice spoke again, this time louder, more forceful.

           This isn’t my imagination; the voice is coming from behind me. I twirled in my spot, a small gasp escaping me as I soaked up what I saw. The stunning mix of yellow and blue, a large wooden stick in hand-

           “Aang.” I breathed, reviewing his figure up and down.

           He stood there, posture hunched, and unlike this morning, where he seemed tired but overall refreshed, now he looked utterly drained. The way his eyes sulked and the grip he held over his staff, loose. Dangling from the tips of fingers as he stared back at me, his pupils wide. Is he just coming back from work? At this hour of the night?

           “Aang, you’re just going to bed now?” I announced, unable to hide the worry in my tone.  Aang awkwardly scratched his head, laughing under his breath while nodding slowly, “Mhm, I had some paperwork I had to review for Republic City.”

           “This late?” I questioned; my hands firmly pressed over my chest.

           Aang opened his mouth before shutting it, the corner of his lips tugging upwards as he coolly leaned on his staff. “What about you, Yue?” Aang started, wiggling his eyebrows, nudging his head to the side as if to emphasize the fact that the moon was high in the sky.

           “It seems like someone else is just going to bed.”

           I bite my lip, shaking my head, “I’m not going to bed just yet…”

           Aang glowered at my words, pushing off the staff that he was just resting on, back straightening. “Where are you going, Yue?” Aang voiced, “It’s late; you should be resting-”

           “I'm going to see Zuko.”

           The air between us stilled, hearing him take in a sharp inhale, stilling in his spot.      

           His mouth agape, gawking as he let the words, I uttered, seep in. Expressions of astonishment and disbelief flashed by his face, unsure which emotion to settle upon. I couldn’t fault him for feeling as shocked as he was. For a whole week, I refused to see Zuko, no matter how often they begged and asked. But I can’t say no anymore; I want to see him so bad, be greedy and selfish and see him-

           Reservedly, I shifted my hands from my chest, presenting the get-better card Kiyi gave me earlier in the day to him. It was like the card jerked Aang from the conflicting emotions that tumbled inside him, seeing his sandaled feet moving forward.

           “Yue, if you’re not ready to see him, you don’t have to.” Aang concerned, brows pinching together as he anxiously stepped forward. “I can give the card, right now-”

           “Aang, I’m sorry for pushing you and the Gaang away.” I snivelled.

           The trembling in my hands grew, teeth digging deep into my swollen lips as I drove the card further into my chest. My nails pulled at the silky fabric of my dress, fighting back the tears of remorse.

           The way I treated Aang earlier was sad, but it wasn’t just today. It was ever since Zuko fell ill. It was like I couldn’t look at anyone in the eye, not even Sokka or Katara, without feeling guilty. Overwhelming shame and burden, despite them not holding what happened to Zuko against me.

           But I was also lying to them, not telling them the truth of what happened that terrible day, the extent of my bending.

           “I was so mean to you, and I’m sorry.”

           “Yue-” Aang sniffled, and I felt his arms wrap around my body, pulling me into a tight embrace.

           I let my head snuggle in between his neck and shoulder, chest rising and falling between my heavy breaths as Aang fussed into my ear. His lips pressed against my head, a smile dancing as he held me close. A whole week I went without a single hug from anyone, without any form of affection. I was forcing myself into complete isolation beside any business meetings.

           To have someone hold me close made me realize how lonely I felt. How much I wanted a hug – to be held.

           “I’m sorry too. I should’ve have lost my temper like that. I just-” Aang started, pulling away slightly, our gazes meeting as we stood close. I saw how round his eyes were, cheeks a pleased flush as he spoke. “I can’t stand seeing you hurting yourself, Yue. Take all the blame and hurt when you deserve to be happy.”

           “I just want Zuko to be safe.” I sighed, raising my hand against my nose for the hundredth time today. Aang hummed knowingly, “Come on, I’ll walk you to the infirmary, and then I’ll let you be.”

           “A-actually, Aang…” I stuttered, cheeks turning rosy, “Can you come with me? I-I don’t want to do this alone.”

           The way Aang beamed as if I told him that Appa could, in fact, fit inside the Kingdom and sleep in the same room as Katara, him, and Momo. He let his hand rest over the small of my back, glowing ear to ear.

           “I would love to go with you, Yue.”

           I stepped back from his caring touches, taking a deep breath as I looked down at the card that sat in my hand. The red of the paper practically radiating under the dim candlelight of the Kingdom. The last thing I’ll ever do for Kiyi-

           “We should hurry,” Aang spoke sympathetically, “You look exhausted, but I know seeing Zuko is important for you, Yue.” I could feel the way he put light pressure on the tips of fingers, nudging me gently. Within seconds I found ourselves walking, Aang letting his staff twirl in his grip as he watched over me out of the corner of his brown eyes.

           With every step we took, the beating of my heart grew.

           Blood rushing, skin warm as goosebumps rose.

           Despite the chill air of the night, I was sweating, the sound of paper rattling between my grasp embarrassingly loud as we marched. The mental gymnastics that ran through my head, torn between running to Zuko’s side or hiding in the comforts of my blankets. I want to see Zuko so bad, but what if Mai is right? That he doesn’t love me anymore, and the last thing he wants is a visit from me.

           My lip rolled between my teeth, letting my gaze wander to our right as we turned the corner. For a split moment, I saw how the turtle ducks huddled together in the pond. The babies adorable squished together heads resting over each other, as their parents loomed over them. A family…

           “Don’t think for a second Zuko doesn’t want you there with him,” Aang spoke.

           I titled my head, snapping my gaze towards him.

           Aang continued walking ahead, the grand wooden doors before us a few steps away. People with crosses embordered on their sleeves, walking in and out of those doors. The air around them was calm, but I could tell a few of them looked surprised to see us this late in the night.

           “You really think…Zuko wants me there, Aang?” I whispered.

           I could hear Aang snort, giving me a side look filled with personality. “Yue, I didn’t want to say this…” He started, and by then, my head was spinning, realizing that right before us was the entrance.

           Aang’s hand rested over the door, look heavy as he slowly faced me, “Katara told me that sometimes Zuko whispers your name in his sleep.”

           My bottom lip quivered, hearing those words, Aang’s hand dragging along the wood. But he wasn’t finished, laughing lightly as he seemingly remembers the conversation between him and Katara. “Every time he says your name, he smiles. Katara said it was creepy seeing him that happy.”

           I couldn’t help but giggle, rubbing my eyes with the ends of my sleeves imaging it.

           From first-hand experience, I already knew that Zuko was prone to smiling during his sleep. Also, prone to holding me to close to his chest so that the slightest movement from me caused his arm to lock, holding me in place. And don’t forget about sniffing my hair, whispering ‘vanilla’ under his breath far too many times to count.

           Tugging on my sleeves, now stained with wet droplets, Aang glowed from above, “Now, Yue, you make do with that information as you will. But I think we both know what it means.”

           “Aang…” I breathed between my stuffy nose; voice soft.

           “Yes, Yue?”

           “I-I’m ready.”

           “Let’s go then, Princess.” Aang teased with a cheeky smile, pushing the door.

           The door creaked, the high pitch noise sounding louder than usual, given how quiet the palace hallways were at the time. Right away, the nurses who were busily working inside turned their heads towards our direction, shooting us enormous smiles. They waved excitedly, energy-filled in their actions.

           “A beautiful night, Imperial Consort,” they happily sang, before going back to work.

           I pressed a smile to my face, whispering my soft greetings as I pressed the card closer to my chest. I couldn’t help but notice how clammy my palms were, if it weren’t for Aang’s guidance, I would’ve undoubtedly froze in place at the door.

           My eyes scanned the area, the chandlers lighting up the large room, the grand windows opened, and curtains pushed back to allow the calming breeze from outside to enter. Fresh flowers and bright paintings decorated the space as a means to keep the atmosphere up and going. And the further I walked, taking in every detail, down to the colours of the candles, I couldn’t help but wonder.

           Was this how Zuko felt that time when I was in here?

           Just as nervous, anxious, to see me after the waterfall incident? I could recall how flustered Zuko appeared. A look of exhaustion washing over him as he stood before me. The way he rushed to my side, cupping my face before placing a kiss of pure desperation over my lips- my cheeks flushed.

           Why would I think of something like that right now?

           Aang’s hand fell over my back once more, rubbing gently as I jumped in my spot.

           “He’s over there, behind that curtain, where the guards are,” Aang spoke, nudging me where he pointed with his chin. As if they heard, the guards carefully lifted their helmets, bowing slightly with warm smiles before moving off to the side. Their helmets fell back over their faces, quietly discussing amongst themselves, giving us space and privacy.

           My knees were wobbling; every step I took felt like rocks were tied to the soles of my feet, the ground sand as I struggled to move. The reality of the whole situation hitting me all at once. You’re fine, Yue.

           This is fine, you’re fine-

           The curtain that isolated Zuko from the rest was now right before me. A dark velvety red fabric, dragons imprinted all over. The point at which the curtains met swayed lightly with the incoming breeze, and I could feel my breath catching when I spotted the end of a metal bed through the momentary crack.

           He’s right here, right behind this curtain-

           My hand reached naturally, fingertips feeling the soft fabric slip in between each digit. It was like everything was moving in slow motion, the overwhelming need, want, to see Zuko.  I missed him so much.

           I need him; I want to see him-

           Hastily, I drew the draping back, the curtain swaying dramatically with my movement. I clenched the card tightly to my chest, eyes rapidly scanning the space, and just like that, my arm limply dropped to my side. My shoulders slumped, body shuddering, hand falling over my mouth as an uncontrollable sob erupted from me.

           “Yue?” Aang worried from behind me, his hands squeezing over me with care.

           It was at that moment I realized I wasn’t moving, too busy studying over the handsome sleeping figure before me – Zuko.

           His long black hair was neatly brushed and scattered over the scarlet pillow he rested upon, hands over his heart as his chest rose and fell with every breath. The way the moonlight shined through the large windows behind him, painting his skin with a heavenly aura – almost spirit-like.

           Those pink lips of his that I adored were parted, loveable sighs leaving him as his head slightly leaned to the side. It was like last week never happened, his expression so peaceful, sleeping without a worry in the world. The red blanket that laid over his body stopped short of his chest, his milky skin bare.

           Zuko- he looked healthy.

           Part of me imagined Zuko’s appearance to have withered slightly. His face to have sunken, cheekbones prominent, and his physique smaller. How wrong was I. Zuko looked like he gained weight – shoulders broader than usual, the divots on his arms from where his muscles lined abnormally defined. He was even freshly shaven, skin clear and dewy.

           Small breathless giggles left me, unable to contain the relief of seeing Zuko looking nothing short of perfect.  “Yue-” Aang voiced once again, and this time I turned on my heel to look at him.

           “He’s okay.” I cried, and Aang’s expression softened the moment he realized why I was crying.

           I wasn’t shedding tears because I was upset but relieved.

           Zuko looked so healthy, completely untouched, as I wiped my nose messily on my sleeve. “K-Katara took such good care of him; I owe her so much. I-I couldn’t have healed him as well as her if it weren’t for you and the Gaang being there for him-”

           Aang’s hand brushed my face, cleaning my cheeks to the best of his ability as I let my tears flow. “I told you, Yue. We’re family. We love Zuko too. If you think Katara was going to let her best friend fall ill because some bad guys wanted to hurt you, you doubt our bonds.”

           I smiled, choking as I sniffled, turning my head back to Zuko. He looked so happy, “T-thank you. For everything. For coming with me.”

           “I’ll always be here, Yue. Now give him that card. He may be knocked out cold, but I’m sure he’ll be happy to see it when he wakes up.” Aang happily blubbered, standing at the far corner as I carefully made my way around the bed.

           I couldn’t pull my gaze away from Zuko, watching him as he slept, it felt like my heart was going to burst. Was it creepy to stare at Zuko this excitedly while he slept? Probably, but I couldn’t stop myself. I missed him so much.

           Carefully I rose the card, lips moving silently as I cumbersomely. “Katara told me that he could most likely hear us, Yue…I bet he would love to hear your voice.”

           My voice…?

           “Z-Zuko.” I shakily started, carefully placing the beautiful handcrafted card on the wooden table that stood right beside him. A few vials and bowls of water with towels laid there – tools for Katara whenever she was healing or checking up on Zuko quickly at her aid. If it weren’t for Katara’s Waterbending skills, who knows what would’ve happened to Zuko.

           “Zuko.” I breathed once again, smiling softly as I inched my way closer to Zuko’s bedside.

           I watched as Zuko’s eyes moved under his shut eyelids at the sound of my voice so close to his body, a deep sigh, leaving him for a moment as he continued sleeping. My hand outstretched over his, hovering, fighting the temptation to feel his skin against mine.

           “K-Kiyi made a card for you; she misses you….” I whispered, and I saw the way Zuko’s expression changed the more I talked. His brows pinched together slightly as his head tossing towards me side, another long exhale leaving him. It was like in his sleep he was searching for my voice, his fingers tightening its hold on the blankets that laid over him.

           I weakly smiled, and without thinking, my hand rested of his.

           “I miss you,” I whispered, tears falling down my face as I anxiously held my breath.

           The greed took over, my fingers dance over his soft skin, basking in the warmth. It was like a current ran through me the moment our hands touched, the sense of familiarity and happiness bursting at the seams.

           “I miss you so much. I miss your hugs and cuddles and smiles, and-” I had to stop talking, struggling as my words rushed. My digits laced with his, my skin tingling, butterflies in my stomach from being so close to Zuko after so long.

           “I’m sorry you got hurt because of me, I’m sorry for not telling you the truth. I’m sorry I didn’t do more.” I cried as I let my other hand wander, trailing up his chest to his neck. I winced, feeling the rough patch of skin nestled at the base of his neck. There was a small scar now, a darkened patch of skin from where I sliced.

           Forever a reminder, and I swear I could feel the scar that rested along my jaw tingle.

           “I promised myself that I would never hurt you…” I whimpered, leaning over his bed, unable to stop the temptation to get closer. My hands cupped his face, thumbs caressing his pouting lips. “I promised Iroh, your mom, Kiyi, everyone that I would take care of you. I made that vow to myself the moment I met you.”

           My eyes fluttered shut, face rosy, all self-restraint gone.

           Leaning over his body, hair falling over our faces as my lips gently brushed over his. The feeling of his soft, plump lips pressed against my swollen ones, tears tumbling over his skin.

           “I hope you find someone who can keep that vow better than me, Zuko. Who will love you more than I ever could. Who will bring out that stunning twinkle in your eyes. I want you to be happy Zuko…”

           “Yue.” I heard Aang cry, and I carefully pulled back, noticing the way my salty tears dripped down Zuko’s cheek, tainting the stark burn on his face.

           “One last kiss.” I dejectedly cried, taking a step back, my fingertips grazing his skin before leaving. The moment my touch left him, I could feel my heart ache, hands cupping my mouth as I tried my toughest to shush my tears.

           “What do you mean by one last kiss, Yue?” Aang worriedly questioned, stepping closer to my trembling figure.

           It’s time I come clean.

           “I-I never you, what Mai said to me.” I sobbed, and I could feel Aang’s arms wrap around me, holding me close to his chest as his hands ran up and down my back. He cradled my face into his neck, shaking his head at my words, “What did she tell you, Yue?”

           “S-she said that the reason Zuko got hurt is because of me.” I started, spluttering harder as my sight became filled with nothing more but tears. “I-if I leave, t-then Zuko will be safe. No harm will be done.”

           “Yue, you can’t believe her, she could be lying for all we know-”

           “But what if she isn’t, Aang?” I huffed, pulling away to stare at him.

           Tears swelled in Aang’s eyes, wiping his face with the back of his hand heatedly as he looked down at me. “Maybe she is lying, Aang. But I prefer to take the risk, then have Zuko get hurt again because of me.”

           “I-if you leave, Yue.” Aang broke, his voice cracking as the grip on my body tightened. “Zuko would look under every damn rock for you. Go to the ends of the world looking for you. You think he’s going to let you go, Yue? Walk out of his life after how much you’ve changed him?” Aang argued expression hurt as he took in a shaky breath.

           “Zuko loves you so much. I shouldn’t even tell you this, but Zuko is already thinking of a hundred and one ways to propose! He told me that he wants kids, he wants a family, asking me what good diapers- damnit Yue!” Aang huffed, pulling me back into a tight embrace as we cried silently together.

           “This whole week, you’ve pushed us away, carried the burden of that knowledge. You wanted to see Zuko today, not because you stopped blaming yourself, but because you wanted to say goodbye.”

           “I don’t want to go, Aang, but I don’t want Zuko to hurt anymore.”

           “You’re going to hurt him by leaving.”

           “But, I’ll be hurting him more if I stay.”

           I pulled away slightly, looking to my side to watch as Zuko laid in bed. The tranquil expression on his face at the moment, I couldn’t have wished for a better lasting appearance to see. Every memory we shared, forever locked in my heart for years to come, because no one can steal those recollections away from me.

           “I thought Zuko was the one, Yue,” Aang whispered into my ear, and I rubbed my nose, smiling to myself. “Zuko is the one for me, always will be. But I’m not the one for him. I don’t think I ever was…”

           “So, is this it? Are you just going to leave us? Me, Katara, Sokka, Hakoda-”

           I winced, shutting my eyes as I shook my head, “I’ll leave as soon as Zuko wakes up. I made a promise that I’ll take care of the kingdom for him, and I want to keep at least one promise.”

           “Where will you go, Yue? I-we-but-” Aang raged internally, stepping back before running his hands over his hand. His fingers pressed against the skin of the blue arrow along his head, expression panicked. I could tell from the look in his eyes that his mind was swirling, unable to focus.

           Carefully, I stepped towards Zuko, grabbing the blanket that laid over him, and lifting it. I tucked the warm fabric, snuggling under his chin, a bittersweet smile painting my face as I took in Zuko’s features one last time. “I love you, Zuko, I can’t even begin to express my feelings. There aren’t enough letters in the alphabet to string together a word strong enough to tell you how much I love you.”

           I pulled away, letting my hands clasp together, nails causing crescents into my palms as I swallowed back the next wave of weeping. “And I want you to know, Zuko, that no matter how much you hate me, are angry at me, I’ll still love you. That will never change.”

           Turning on my heel, I faced Aang, whose face was swollen, nose a bright red as he weakly grabbed the staff he let rest on the wall.

           “I-I think it’s time I go to bed now…” I quietly spoke, and Aang nodded, using the tip of his stick to pull back the curtains to lead to the outside world. But he didn’t move right away, his eyes locked with mine.

           “Aang?” I asked, and he sighed, forcing a smile on his face.

           “I can’t stop you from leaving, Yue. This is your choice, your journey. But I hope you know that while everyone may be nervous once they learn about your bending, you’re still you. You’re still Sokka and Katara’s sister, Toph’s drinking partner, Suki’s shopping pal, and my best friend.”

           “Thank you, Aang.”

           “I’ll take you to your room, and I hope tomorrow, by some miracle, you realize that Zuko will love you, regardless of how you view yourself. And that you have every right to stay here with Zuko, and have the family you always dreamed of.”

           I could feel my heart swell, Aang outstretching his hand towards me, a poignant smile on his face. Right away, I grabbed his cold hand, our fingers intertwining, letting ourselves relish in the bittersweet moment. His hand squeezed tightly, before beginning to move, and I looked over my shoulder quickly.

           “Goodbye, Zuko.” I hummed, taking in the finest of details as if I didn’t already know each and every mark on his skin—the shape of his nose and lips, even his ears. But my eyes narrowed, only noticing too late the fresh tear running down Zuko’s cheek.

           A tear that was undoubtedly not present a moment ago.

           My feet stuttered, and as I eagerly tilted my head to get a better look, to make sure it was not my eyes playing tricks, but it was too late. The thick curtain shut, red flooding my vision. This is really it; I said my goodbye.

           Without any of other words spoken between Aang and me, we walked side by side, our hands swinging as Aang silently guided me to my room. The nurses and guards all said their share of goodnights, not daring to ask as to why our cheeks were as red as could be, our voices coarse and eyes puffy.

           Tiredly, we inched our way down the hallway, rubbing my face as I took in every nuisance of the kingdom. How many more days do I have left, walking down this hallway before I go? Soon the I won’t ever hear the clicking of my heels when I stroll in the mornings or the happy greetings of the servants.

           We turned the corner, my eyes lighting up as I spotted two guards at the front of my bedroom—two people who I knew far too well at this point. I turned to face Aang, our eyes meeting. An unspoken connection hitting us both as Aang drew me in for one last hug.

           “Goodnight, Yue. And how I hope, more than anything, I see you in the morning.” He wished before pulling away. We shared one last look before he begrudgingly turned on his heel. His yellow robes flowed behind him as he let his staff dance in his grip, eagerly walking towards the waiting arms of his dearest lover. Bringing my arms up to my chest, I hugged myself.

           Thank you.

           “Imperial Consort Ying Yue?” two voices spoke, causing me to twirl.

           With their helmets now off, I couldn’t hide the short moment of happiness seeing them this late at night. It really is them- “Ah, hello, friends~!” I sung, waving with a small yawn as I inched my way towards them.

           They smiled back, but I couldn’t help but notice how forced their smiles seemed, their bodies tensed as they shared anxious looks. I pouted, tilting my head to the side as I looked around. Aang was already long gone, no one in sight. What could be upsetting them?

           “Is everything alright?” I asked curiously, and I had to raise a brow at the way they nudged each other in the stomach.

           “You tell her.”

           “No, you do.”

           “I didn’t let her enter.”

           “She’s a Princess; I can’t exactly say ‘no.’ And you were there with me, why didn’t you say anything?” They bickered with each other. My head snapped back and forth, watching how they grumbled under their breath, like two school children bickering. It was literally like watching Katara and Sokka fight, just older and from the Fire Nation.

           I let out a small giggle, shaking my head, children.

           “Can someone, please, tell me? I promise I won’t get mad.” I urged, crossing my arms over my chest. At the sound of my voice, they stilled, nervously shifting in their spots. I gave them a look, and that seemed to do the trick. Both of blurting out what they didn’t want to say, “Princess Kiyi is inside your bedroom. She says she wants to sleep in your bed.”

           My eyes widen at the news, staring at the large bedroom doors.

           K-Kiyi?

           I opened my mouth, only to close it once more.

           This was strange.

           Kiyi was undoubtedly a cuddlier, loved to spend time with everyone and anyone. The star of the show, able to capture the hearts of many with her positive and addictive attitude. Sometimes Zuko would go to her room and read books before she went to bed, often coming back to the bedroom and telling me how these children’s books were ‘cringy.’

           But to have her, in our bed, saying that she wants to stay the night had me in a whirlwind. It was so unlike her. She loved snuggling, but she was one independent cookie – one who went to the beat of her own drum. Processing their words, both of them gawking over me, trying to figure out if I was upset at the news.

           “Did she give a reason why she wished to stay?” I asked, and they nodded eagerly, “Something about a card?”

           “Oh-”

           “We can go and ask her to leave, Imperial Consort, we shouldn’t have let her stay in the first place-”

           “No,” I spoke up, raising my hand and gently placing it over theirs.

           Their breathing hitched, unsure if I was about to get upset, but I quickly flashed a smile. Shaking my head because suddenly, it made sense, remembering the sad smile on Kiyi’s face from this morning when she spoke about Zuko.

           She was just as upset and worried as everyone else about the whole situation. Just because she was a child, and didn’t know all the details regarding the situation, didn’t mean she didn’t pick up on the depressive tone from us all. Just like how I needed a hug, I bet Kiyi needed one too.

           “Do me a favour, please, and let Lady Ursa know that Kiyi is with me tonight. To send a maid in the morning to wake us, so she goes to school on time.”

           They both nodded, letting out a breath, “We’ll go right now, Imperial Consort.”

           “Thank you. Have a nice night.”

           “You too.” They smiled before bowing.

           I turned on my heel, facing the bedroom doors, my hands falling over it. With one fluid movement, I eased my way inside, only for the corners of my lips to curve upwards.

           What a sight.

           There Kiyi sat, in the middle of Zuko and I’s bed, pillows around her as she held the teddy bear Zuko gave me tight to her chest. The blankets were perfectly nestled under her chin, her beady eyes glowing under the warmth of the candles. “Button?” I cooed, and I could hear Kiyi enthusiastically squirm under the sheets.

           “I was waiting; it’s past bedtime.” She smugly retorted, and while I didn’t see the look on her face, I already knew she had a huge grin.

           “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just that this room here I’m pretty sure doesn’t belong to you.” I teased, stepping inside as I let the door shut behind me. With ease, I pulled at the elastic that held my hair into a high pony, mewling with delight as it fell. All the tension in my scalp, releasing as my hair draped over my shoulders.

           Kiyi watched in awe as she sat up, her mouth hanging, “Your hair is so long and pretty.”

           “Compliments won’t work on me, button.” I pestered, grabbing one of Zuko’s old T-shirts that was draped at the end of the bed.

           With the shirt in hand, I eased my way to the bathroom, letting the door open just a crack, so I could hear the way Kiyi buzzed on the other side. My hand rubbed the back of my neck, another yawn escaping me before my eyes settled over the mirror, taking in my appearance for the first time in a while.

           I looked exhausted.

           The dress I wore seemed oddly loose about my hips, fingers a bit boney, and cheeks sullen. Dark circles under my eyes and back aching from hunching over the desk all day, staying up all night only to wake up bright and early. I let my hands run through my hair, trying my best to shake out the tangles, too tired to brush.

           With a tired sigh, my fingers danced to the front of my dress, beginning to undress.

           “Yue, where did you get this teddy? He’s so cute.” I heard Kiyi gush and laughed softly. “Who do you think, button?” I responded, letting the red fabric fall onto the floor.

           My hands grasped Zuko’s old shirt, easily squirming my body into it. It was massive in size, stopping near my thighs as it bagged over my body comfortably. His warm spice-like scene still etched into the fabric, like cinnamon.

           “Was it Zuzu?” Kiyi shouted, and I happily smiled with closed eyes, “You bet it.”

           In a matter of minutes, I cleaned myself up, patting my face dry with a towel and wiped the last drop of my cream onto my leg. My hand reached for the door, ready to step out, but I stilled for a split moment, catching a glimpse of myself once more in the mirror. A sad smile reaching my eyes knowing that I saw Zuko today, even if it were for the last time.

           As long as you’re safe, Zuko, that’s all that matters

           “Which side do you want, button?” I questioned, forcing my pitch to be higher than usual, a weak attempt to appear cheery. With my hands on my hips, I stopped at the foot of the bed, gazing over at Kiyi with tender eyes.

           Kiyi brought a finger to her lip as if thinking deeply of the question. Her cute brows scrunching up before her lighting up unexpectedly, “Where do you sleep?”          

           “On the right,” I answered, and Kiyi grinned.

           “Then I want to sleep right-” Kiyi droned before rolling underneath the blankets and stopping abruptly, “here.” I giggled at Kiyi’s silliness, taking note where this little ball of trouble decided to sleep.

           “As you wish, button.” I hummed under my breath before walking towards the left side of the bed.

           My fingers dragged along the warm covers, eyes setting over the pillow and nightstand that rested. The unfinished book Zuko had left sitting over the table, the candles still fresh and unused for the past week until today. And while Kima and Lia even dusted his side, creating the illusion as if space has been used, I swallowed back the sadness.

           I didn’t dare touch this side once, opting to curl myself into a tight ball, sticking too far right.

           But now standing here, pulling the heavy covers back had me entering a joyful trance. If I thought wearing Zuko’s shirts gave me flashbacks of pure bliss, letting my body dip into the bed, head resting along his pillow had me turning pink. It felt like home, the closest I’ve been to him for days, and if it weren’t for Kiyi’s giggle, I would’ve laid here with a goofy smile plastered on my face for hours.

           I twisted my body, pulling the blankets over us as Kiyi wiggled her way closer to my body. Her legs wrapped themselves with mine, letting my arm drape over her frame as she rested her head on my shoulder. My lips danced along with her temple, placing a sweet kiss, “So button, tell me, something. Why did you come to my bed tonight?”

           I heard Kiyi shyly huff, before mumbling softly, “Because I miss Zuko…”

           A low sigh escaped me, placing another chaste kiss over her. “He misses you too, button. I know when he gets up, he’s going to give you tons of hugs and kisses, especially after that card.” I cooed against her forehead, hand caressing her face.

           Kiyi sniffled, nodding slightly as she tugged the blankets closer to her body. I could tell based on the way her body didn’t squirm as much anymore, that sleep was starting to get the best of her. I wonder how far it is past her bedtime? Hopefully, she gets the rest she needs.

           “Yue…” Kiyi quietly spoke, her voice so low that I had to force myself to hear her properly. “Do you ever get lonely without Zuzu around?”

           My mouth opened at her question, pulling her body closer to me as I thought. I’ve never felt lonelier in my life until now.

           “Of course, Button, but guess who decided to surprise me in my bed, it’s like a cuddle party.” I chirped under my breath, trying to keep my tone down. Kiyi giggled feebly at my answer before a tiny yawn left her lips.

           I rose a brow at the adorable yawn that left her, reminding me of the cute sighs Zuko was letting go as he slept. “Is someone tired?” I whispered, and I could hear her pout.

           “No…I-I can stay up a bit longer...” Kiyi argued tiredly, but as I pulled back, I snickered under my breath.

           Kiyi’s eyes were droopy, struggling to stay open as she snuggled the teddy bear close to her chest. I let my hand brush her black locks behind her ears, carefully moving her head from my shoulder onto my pillow. Without much protests, just a tiny whine, Kiyi curled into a ball, head sinking into the cushion.

           “I love you, Yue.” She whispered sleepily, and I beamed, tucking the blankets under her chin. “I love you too, button. Thank you for always bringing a smile to my face.” I hummed, before slowly inching my way back, sitting upright for a brief moment to blow out the candles that lit the space.

           The room darkened, only the moonlight seeping through the curtain, casting shadows. But this time, the shadows – didn’t feel as scary.

           I pulled the covers over my body, settling onto my side as I let my arm drape over Kiyi’s resting figure. My heart twisted into knows, joy filling my soul, as the light from the moon cast just enough illumination for me to see the tranquil expression on Kiyi.

           My hand rose, gently caressing her chubby cheeks, her lips parting as her breathing evened out. She’s precious. Soft snores escaping her as she snuggled deeper into my hold, blankets enveloping her body.

           “Goodnight, button,” I whispered into her messy hair, my own eyes falling shut.

           I don’t want to leave. Not Kiyi, or the Gaang, Iroh or Ursa…

           But most importantly, I don’t want to leave Zuko.

           My breathing began to even out; mind spacing as my body felt heavy. Sleep beginning to consume my body, enjoying the way my muscles relaxed. How long has it been since I’ve been able to ease into such a calm state?

           Lost in the peace, the gentle sounds of the door opening, footsteps pattering was dismissed as nothing more but a dream. The current state of nirvana, mind floating, disregarding the way the blankets shifted over my body. Probably Kiyi getting comfy.

           Intuitively, I squirmed in my spot, bringing the covers closer to myself, head sinking into the pillow. A comforting warmth was spooning me from behind the further I fell into a deep sleep, as if two large arms were holding me from behind.

           I smiled softly because there wasn’t a doubt in my mind who I was dreaming of. The way their hands cupped my own – fingers rubbing my palms as their legs tangled with both mine and Kiyi’s.  

           “Zuko.” I weakly called, because the dream felt so real. As if he was right behind, his face pressed into my hair, his hot breath tickling my ear. Even his overwhelming firewood scent filled my scenes, eyes rolling to the back of my head despite my eyes shut because it was the smell of home.

           “Shh, baby. Just sleep, I got you.” I could hear him drone into my ear, my heart pounding because I could feel the way his chest rumbled from behind. It was crazy, how vivid this dream. But my body too tired, to relaxed, to move and make sure that I was in fact, dreaming, let the doubts in my mind go.

           Enjoy the dream, Yue. Your first happy dream in days.

           “Zuko…” I sighed in harmony, snuggling my body deeper into his embrace. Right away, the grip he had on my body tightened, cooing into my ear, “Yes, love?”

           “I’m…sorry. I don’t…I don’t want to go.”

           “Then don’t.” he quickly replied into my ear, a raspiness in his voice. I let out a small sniffle as I instinctively pulled his hand to my chest. “But…I…I want…you safe.”

           “I’m safe, right here, with you in my arms.”

           “I… I love you.”

           “I love you, too, Yue,” Zuko whispered once more before my mind drifted completely.

           And for the first time, in days, I slept.

           With the biggest smile on my face.

Copyright © 2019 Mystic-Kitten-Writer, inc. all rights reserved. No reposting, modifying, or translations of any kind allowed. Thank you for your cooperation.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters portrayed in this story besides Ying Yue Jiang, Lia, Kima, and any future creations.

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

[falsegoodnight]

this is part two of my december fic rec! this list encompasses the fics i’ve read from the 18th to the 28th!! it’s also my birthday today which makes it even more special! i can think of no better way to spend today than spreading positivity! :)

you can find part one of this month here

✰ there’s happiness because of you by @hadestyles | NR | 1k - (so soft, tender, and beautiful!! rori’s writing amazes me always! and this was written for my birthday because they’re an angel <3)

Thursday mornings have always been their favourite.

✰ and it gets colder and colder by @hadestyles | E | 2K - (another rori fic!! once again, beautiful prose! made me feel emotional!)

Harry wants to take care of Louis. Things take a turn.

✰ make my wish come true by @soldouthaz | M | 3k - (drabble from this series) (so cute, lovely, soft, amazing!!! made my heart so happy! this is also dedicated to me which :’) sarah angel chant)

The taste of Christmas cookies fresh out of the oven and peppermint hot chocolate is still heavy on his tongue. Harry’s sweater provides some warmth and it still smells of him from before he left for his internship two weeks ago, but it’s nowhere near the feeling of his arms wrapped around him. Louis shivers despite the blankets.

✰ spirit meets the bones by @hadestyles​ | E | 3k - (i had to edit to add this because rori wrote another beautiful little fic for me :’) beautiful prose, beautiful emotions, so so so beautiful, gosh. pure poetry!)

The action shouldn’t fill his eyes with tears but it does. These small gestures mean the world to him. A steady reminder that Harry does notice all the tiny, seemingly insignificant details that make Louis him.

✰ 29 Blows by @quelquesetoiles | E | 4k - (super hot but also so cute!! love the concept of the birthday tradition in this one!!!)

For over a decade now, Harry has had his little tradition. It wouldn't be a Louis Tomlinson birthday without his best friend finding new, ingenious ways to make his life more difficult.

It's cute, it's funny, it's theirs, until Harry takes it a step too far on Louis' 29th birthday.

✰ calm me down (before i sleep) by @erodiansunflower | E | 7k - (a pwp and super hot, but also super cute??)

Prompt 24: Harry is a sex shop owner that has a crush on Louis, the shy customer who flirts with him while buying cute buttplugs, lace panties, and collars. One day, Louis asked Harry to help him put on a corset (they end up fucking in the dressing room). Things escalate quickly from there, so they start seeing each other seriously while trying other sex stuff.

✰ You’re Never Alone With a Moon This Bright by @helloamhere | T | 8k - (part one of this series) (WOW this was incredible and i am ENTRANCED! this author is an all-time favorite and idk why it took me so long to get to this series but i’m here now!! and loving it!!)

Louis was a monster. But sometimes, even monsters get a Christmas.

✰ Be a Good Girl For Me by @sincetheywere16and18 | E | 9k - (really hot and cute!!!)

Based on this prompt: “AU where Harry is Louis’ older brother’s best friend. He catches Louis dancing around his room in panties and blackmails him, saying that louis has to do anything he says or else he’ll tell Louis’ family that he wears girly underwear. Secretly soft for him, Harry gives him easy tasks and uses the whole thing to spend more time with Louis. Eventually, the orders begin to escalate and Harry teases Lou about his secret, making Louis shy and embarrassed. Louis loves the attention though, and forms a crush on his brother’s best friend. Lots of feminization, secret relationship, and enemies to lovers. Thank you!”

✰ it’s hard to fight naked by @loustarlight | E | 11k - (LOVED this so much!!! a big fan of enemies/flatmates to lovers especially when there’s a walk-in involved!!)

Louis leaves dirty socks on the couch, Zayn does assignments while he's high, and Harry is hopelessly crushing on his roommate.

✰ Sweet Scary Creatures by @specklelouis | M | 13k - (jurassic park au!! so cute and fun!!! loved louis’ character growth in this in particular!)

They stare into each other's eyes for a while until Louis remembers this is too intimate and looks at Harry’s hands on his thigh. It spans a big portion of his thigh and Louis has always been insecure about how thick he is, so he loves that Harry has huge, dustbin hands that hold him and makes him feel smaller, safer.

✰ hereafter (ad infinitum) by @larryent | M | 13k - (this was absolutely beautiful!! the writing was incredible, the contrast between the old timeline and new one impeccable, and the letters!!! love them!! and vampire harry is always a win!)

"A legacy is every life you’ve touched. And you’ve touched mine twice."

On the coast of San Francisco in 2024 is when Harry falls in love all over again.

✰ Believe Me When I Say You Have It All by @helloamhere | T | 20k - (part two of this series) (loved this even more than it’s predecessor. not to be dramatic, but i’d die for the louis and harry in this series. this whole world has my heart)

Harry had never faced anything in this forest that had actually succeeded in scaring him. Louis was no exception.

✰ Yours to Lose by @loulicate-recs | M | 26k - (so cute and soft and sweet!!! louis and harry were both angels and IAN <3 little cutie!!! so proud of you hanis!)

Louis always gets distracted with his mummy duty and he eventually catches Harry's attention.

✰ But It’s Useless by @thinlinez | E | 26k - (this put such a big smile on my face!! so cute and lovely!! louis was a relatable and adorable menace and harry was a smitten idiot but they both got there in the end!!)

Omega Louis would never guess that he would be trying to hack into Alpha Harry's Wifi. That is until everything changes when he tries to get to know his enemy.

✰ Stuck On You by Writewhatiwant | E | 34k - (so so sweet! loved the aspect of stickers in this fic and how louis found joy in them!! really loved how both louis and harry (especially harry) grew throughout this story and how they found peace at the end!)

Louis’ life revolves around his stickers. Harry’s life revolves around his job. The universe has decided their worlds should revolve around each other.

✰ smoke between your teeth by @soldouthaz | E | 37k - (i think everyone knows how much i adore sarah and her fics but this one just might be a new favorite! loved all the psych stuff, the pining, the rom-com worthy confession <3 brilliant!)

Louis tries to stop his addiction to cigarettes and discovers he's been addicted to Harry for much, much longer.

✰ Your Life Worth Walking on a Bright Morning by @helloamhere | T | 38k - (part three of this series) (it just keeps getting better and better <3 so comforting and consistent and beautiful!)

For all its complexity, Louis sometimes reminded himself, life could always be simplified into a series of forks in the road. Even overwhelmingly big things were survivable when you broke them down to their choice. One path or the other, left or right.

✰ On The Edge by @zanniscaramouche | E | 47k - (so crazy good!! zanni is always amazing me!! loved the ice skating, the hockey, the misunderstandings, the multi-faced and beautiful characters and relationships - all so perfect!)

Figure skating is as vital to Louis’ identity as his DNA, so when his skates go missing right before the last Olympics of his career there may be a meltdown only vanilla bath salts can fix. Well, that and the stupidly charming hockey player he met on the plane.

Harry’s too old to be the wonder kid and too young to be taken seriously in the NHL. As an alternate thrown in at the last second, he fights to prove himself on the national team at the largest sporting event known to man. Or he will, once he gets off this flight and can focus on something other than the fussy figure skater and his stunningly blue eyes.

A baggage mix-up skews both of their perfectly laid plans for gold, forcing the two to work together as the clock clicks towards the minute they’re expected to shine on centre ice.

✰ made for lovin’ you by @cuddlerlouis | E | 53k - (loved this so much!! touch depri/accidental bonds are my favorite and this was no exception!!! the characterizations, the tension, the misunderstandings, the tenderness, the fluff!!! so good!)

A quick, horny decision ruins Louis’ summer plans, but may also lead to unexpected discoveries. Featuring the road trip of dreams, misunderstandings, and a bit of fate.

✰ social cues by @outropeace | E | 56k - (so fucking good!! the slow burn in this was impeccable!!! pair it with friends with benefits, mutual pining, angst, misunderstandings... amazing <3)

To Harry, Louis was becoming as tangible and essential as music in his life. He still was a mystery but at the same time, he was one of the most real things Harry had. He just hoped he could live up to the image Louis probably had in his mind of him.

He could play the part, after all, what was published of him wasn’t as detached from reality. He didn’t think of himself as a rockstar cliche, although he couldn't deny he did sleep around, partied a lot, and did some drugs. But then again, wasn’t that what the majority of his friends back in his hometown were doing at college?

Harry wanted to impress Louis, he didn’t want to disappoint or leave his expectations unfulfilled, so he’d give him the full rockstar experience.

It was a very simple plan, what could possibly go wrong?

✰ dripping like spider milk by @raspberryoatss | E | 64k - (pip amazing me with her talent? a common occurrence. this was so wonderfully written and so well done!! loved the characterizations, the dynamic, the angst, the miscommunication, the pining, the HUMOR!!! it was all so amazing!!)

When he sees the alpha, his brown hair curling around the top of his neck and his broad back that’s filled out over the past couple of years, Louis freezes for a moment. The alpha turns around, Louis’ surprised expression mirrored on his own for a fraction of a second before he schools it into a big, yet shy grin and a wave of his huge hand. With his nostrils flared, Louis knows that he can smell him, too.

They never hired alphas, except for—

“Harry.”

✰ a taste of freedom and sweetened passion by @tomlinvelvetfics | M | 74k - (okay technically haven’t finished reading this one yet but i want to get this up early and i already know this is amazing because it’s LATE and she’s incredible!!! and, i mean, anne of green gables?? abo?? best birthday gift ever!! will be spending the day reading this in bliss <3)

“Are you mad?” he explodes, throwing his hands up, groaning. “I was so, so close to reaching my goal, and your stupid, stalking ass had to creep up on me, hm?”

Harry is trying to keep his laughter in, walking closer to him, eyes soft. He doesn’t like the way those eyes make him feel, an odd, dangerous mix of nervous and flustered, so he bends down to pick up the books, raising an eyebrow when Harry growls in protest.

“I wanted to pick them up for you,” the alpha pouts, and Louis glares at him, getting into position and lowering the pile of yellowed pages over the top of his head.

“I’m a functional human being, thank you very much,” he grits out as he begins to walk and mentally count the amount of steps he takes. One, two, three, for heaven’s sake Harry fuck off!, four, five. He doesn’t let himself be distracted as the alpha walks along with him despite the slow pace, green eyes focused on him in a way that would, in any other cases, compelled him to throw a book in the alpha’s face.

He doesn’t know why he doesn’t do it and certainly doesn’t want to think about the reason, whatever it might be.

If you read any of these lovely fics, remember to leave kudos and comment to show your appreciation!

*if i made any errors, please let me know :)

enjoy!

[velvetmel0n]

Jasmine Sambac

Summary: You decide to surprise your sugar daddy when he has a late night at work

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 9k+. Don’t look at me like that.

Warnings: Sugar daddy!Cassian/sugar baby relationship, age gap probably? don’t worry Reader is at least somewhere in her early/mid twenties it’s fine, spanking, it’s Cassian but with Félix’s hair, vaginal fingering, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, little bit of dom!Cassian, mutual pining, unrequited (or is it?) love, bit of cum play, the old trenchcoat surprise lingerie trick, unspecified job titles, rough sex, angst if you squint, exactly ONE instance of daddy kink because c’mon he’s a sugar daddy I had to

A/N: If you’ve been wondering where I’ve been the last few days, this fic has consumed my life.

@damerondjarin @okay-hotshot @poeticandors @tintinwrites @darksideofclarke @acomplicatedprofession @lesqui @himbopoes @winters-buck @duamuteffe @ah-callie @paniclana @huliabitch @yougottakeeponkeepinon @halfwaythereroyal @leahsafae @myguysbsmokin @qveenbvtch @queenofheavenandhell @pascalispedro @agentpike @arcadianempress  @beskars @slfreya​ full disclosure I have no idea who to tag for this

Your cell phone is mocking you.

 It’s sitting on the stool you had dragged into your tiny bathroom and it’s been glaringly silent the entire time you’ve soaked in your small bathtub. The water has gone tepid at this point and the ache in your legs from being on your feet all day has faded away, clouds of Epsom salt-scented steam are still hanging in the air and your cell phone is silent.

It had barely been a week since you’d last seen him and already you feel yourself missing him, an almost physical ache that manifested somewhere in the first days without him and it’s stayed with you— you miss his touch, the sound of his voice. You even miss the smell of his cologne and how it rubs off on you, how it follows you home to the shoebox apartment you won’t let him buy you out of.  

The water sloshes around you as you crumble, lapping dangerously at the edge while you reach for the towel to dry your hands before you grab your phone. You open your conversation with Cassian, leaning back against the slick tiled wall as you read through the last series of messages. Your heart flutters, maybe stupidly, at the words on your screen. At the promises he makes of what he’s going to do to you or the gifts he’s going to give you, the food he says he’s going to feed you. 

Just like the last time you checked, you have no new messages from him— just his customary good morning message that he sends you at an ungodly hour almost every day, the timestamp from today’s reading 4:47am. Not for the first time you wonder if he doesn’t sleep well, trying to mask the concern as curiosity as it looms to the front of your mind. You wonder if he’s stressed, if he’s been losing sleep over the business deal he’s mentioned to you a handful of times when you ask about his work and you feel your heart twist in your chest at the thought of him still cooped up in his office at this hour. 

Your teeth dig into your lip as the idea begins to ignite in your mind, an idea that you’ve been playing with ever since your arrangement with Cassian had been cemented what feels like ages ago and you can’t shake it. You don’t have work tomorrow or any prior engagements, there’s no real reason why you shouldn’t. There’s nothing concrete that you can hang onto as an excuse to not go, as if your burgeoning feelings will wash down the drain with the bathwater as long you ignore them, as long as you don’t feed them.

Your thumbs move before you can think better of it, asking if he’s still at the office. Your phone clatters back onto the stool as you stand and wrap yourself in a fluffy towel—  one gift that you had bought yourself and you drain the tub. When the water hiccups you can still feel a slow, stubborn warmth suffusing you at the thought of him.

You try not to think about your phone as you dry yourself, trying to take your time and wick every drop of moisture away from your supple skin. The Epsom salts had drawn the aches and pains from your limbs and had softened you to an extent, but it’s not enough, not if you actually go through with the scheme that’s unfurling, becoming more and more extravagant as the moments pass. If you’re going to do this at all you’re going to do this right. And that means breaking out the body oil.

You crouch in front of your sink and pull the cabinet drawers open to be met with a small army of glass bottles full of perfumes and oils that you’ve deemed too special, too decadent for daily use— but this is a special occasion. You fish out a bottle from the back, careful as you grip it. The oil looks barely used because it is, one you reserve even more than the others because it’s one of your favorites.

And Cassian’s.

You’re smoothing the oil along your legs, forcing yourself to take your time with the act and making sure you pay attention to each part of you when your phone dings, loud and shrill. It cuts through the jasmine fog you’ve created around yourself and somehow your stomach drops at the same time your heart leaps, lodging itself in the back of your throat.

You pretend not to notice the way your fingers tremble as you pick it up, a miniscule thrill arcing through you at the sight of his name on your screen. You know it’s pathetic that his name is enough to do this to you and it makes you feel a little like a schoolgirl with a crush on her professor, complete with breathless anxiety at the thought of seeing him again.

Still here. I’m sorry baby, I was planning to take you out if I finished early enough.

You imagine him sitting at his big desk in that big office of his, hunched over files and his computer as he tries to iron out details and numbers and whatever else it is that makes business deals work in practice. You know he keeps his hair slicked back for work— one of your favorite things to do is run your fingers through it but you think that he must have already done that for you, agitation making him break that perfect image of his. 

You smile to yourself, sit your phone face down on the sink to resist the temptation. You finish oiling yourself, making sure to dab extra onto your pulse points in lieu of perfume. Behind your ears, in the hollow of your throat. Between your breasts and on your wrists. 

You choose your lingerie next, all silk and lace and buttery fabric between your fingers as you slide it over your skin. Your mind is running rampant, excitement flaring hot and bright in the pit of your stomach as you wrap yourself up like a present and daydream about the look on his face when he sees you, how he’ll react. 

The doubt only surfaces when you’re buttoning your coat, starting to curdle the butterflies in your stomach— because what if he’s annoyed with you showing up without a word? What if he just wants to power through his work before he calls it a night and you throw a wrench into it? But...he has confided to you in the past that he doesn’t know how to stop working, that sometimes he wishes he knew how to actually take a break. You’d seen Cassian in action on multiple occasions, had even rubbed his shoulders for him as he took conference calls on what was supposed to be a day off. 

This is the thought you cling to as you slice into a loaf of bread to make him a sandwich, meats and cheese and pickles all laid out on your cutting board when your phone dings again, this time from the pocket of your coat and again his name is on your screen.

Baby?

You’re at the front of his mind now and the edge of your worries smooths a bit even as you stop yourself from texting him back. Regardless of what happens, if you step into his office to see him tired and wanting to finish his work, only staying long enough to give him a kiss and tell him to eat his food, you want this to be a surprise. 

You layer the condiments and the ingredients together, toasting the sandwich off and wrapping the finished product in wax paper and then into a brown paper bag and all of a sudden you’re ready to leave. You check and re-check your buttons and the belt of your coat, thankful that there’s enough of a chill in the night air that no one will look at you sideways for wearing something that’s all done up and falling below your knees.

You take a deep breath, the little hairs along your arms and on the back of your neck standing up and you worry your lip, and call your taxi from in front of your building, the butterflies starting to swarm up again from somewhere deep in your stomach. If you’re being honest with yourself you had always wanted to do something like this, had always wanted to have someone that you wanted to surprise like this.

His company’s building is almost empty but the security guard who lets you in smiles and greets you by name— just as you do him. He teases you for being sweet on his boss, something you can’t deny and it makes you fluster. It’s the only explanation for why you had suddenly appeared on the list you imagine he has, your name one that’s waved through despite the odd hour even if the true nature of your relationship with ‘Mr. Andor’ is one that’s kept secret, only known between the two of you.

When the guard goes to buzz Cassian and let him know you’re here you stop him, all bashful smiles and holding up the lunch bag as if it’s some kind of defense, a shield for your ulterior motives. “I want to surprise him, he works too hard.” You admit and share a good natured chuckle with the older man when he readily agrees with you. He’s been with Cassian for years and this is far from the first night he’s stayed late.

Though this is the first time anyone has brought him food, and he makes sure to tell you that. 

You’re still thinking about it as you ride the elevator up to the top floor, but the sight of such a large building empty aside from security personnel with all non essential lighting turned off is something eerie. It makes your skin crawl and you regret all those horror movies you like to watch, convincing yourself that because you watch them during the day it won’t be as bad as if you were watching them in the middle of the night. 

You try to think of Cassian instead to assuage the chills that are creeping up the back of your neck, telling yourself to give the horror movies a rest for a while, and as the elevator climbs higher it begins to work. Your heart starts to beat a little faster, your breaths shallowing and you find yourself grinning to yourself as the doors open. 

It’s empty, as expected, and you can see the closed door of his office as you step out, the route through a small seating area and past the secretary’s desk one you have memorized and your blood begins to heat with each step you take. You pause outside his door, blowing out a slow breath and raising your hand to gently knock. You hear nothing on the other side of the door and instead of knocking again you reach for the handle and step in.

Cassian is seated at his desk just like you had imagined him, washed in warm light while the lights of the city below are sparkling like stars behind him. At the sound of someone entering his head shoots up and his eyes widen, only to melt into something softer and warmer as he recognizes you and leans back in his plush leather chair. “What are you doing here?” He doesn’t sound accusatory— he sounds curious. 

He watches you with dark eyes as you lock the door before you walk further into the room and you feel a smirk growing on your lips as you drop the lunch bag into one of the chairs placed opposite of him, his eyes barely straying from you. “I brought you dinner,” You say it simply, nonchalantly— as if your fingers haven’t untied your belt and gotten to work on the first buttons of your coat at the same time. You work carefully, making sure nothing more than a sliver of skin is revealed as you work your way down the front.

“And what did you bring me?” His eyes don’t leave you, watching with rapt attention as you deftly undo button after button. You feel yourself start to flush underneath his scrutiny, drinking in the sight of his brows furrowing and him sitting up in his chair. You wet your lips, gripping the lapels of your coat for a long moment. To draw it out or muster the courage needed to actually drop the thing in the middle of his office you don’t know because all you can see is how he’s looking at you now, shifting his weight onto his forearms as he leans on his desk for a closer look at you. 

“Me.” You grin then, your residual insecurities being drowned by the thrill of it all and the heat of his gaze, and your coat falls in a crumpled heap on the floor. 

Goosebumps cover your body at the noise he makes, a low groan from somewhere deep in his chest and you feel your nipples peak against the lace of your bra— if you can even call it one. The garment seems almost purely decorative, doing more to show you off than it does to conceal. He shifts in his chair, leans back again and rubs his hand over his chin, over the short hair that you’ve come to crave rasping over your skin. 

You see his eyes go heavy as you saunter around his desk, trying not to grin too brightly because for all the nerves you had getting ready and in the elevator, you don’t think you’ve ever felt better in this moment with his eyes all over you like he can’t decide where to look, his hand gripping the arm of his chair and shifting his weight. 

He stands before you can slide yourself between his legs and he’s so close you feel the warmth coming off of him, the cologne you had daydreamed about swirling around your head and you can’t help yourself from taking a deep breath of it. He moves slowly, dipping his face into the crook of your neck and you think you feel his eyelashes flutter against the delicate skin, no doubt smelling the jasmine you so lovingly doused yourself in. You do your best to stay still, even as you feel his large palms sliding along your sides, gripping your hips over the lace and silk he finds there. 

When he finally raises his head his eyes are so dark that they’re almost black, swallowing you up whole. “And you think you can just interrupt me?” His words are quiet and his accent is more pronounced than it was only moments ago. It’s one of your favorite things about him, how his voice sounds. You love how it doubles and triples in weight and you would be lying through your teeth if you said one of your goals isn’t to have him speaking another language by the time you leave the building. It’s the same goal you have every time you see him.

“I wanted to see you, Daddy,” You try not to smirk, you really do, when you reach up to give the open collar of his dress shirt a little tug, playing at fixing it. You know exactly what game he’s playing and it makes your heart race because you know what’s coming next— your mouth might even be watering for it.

“Bend over the desk.” He says it softly. He says it softly enough that it almost doesn’t sound like the order it is but he squeezes your hips to emphasize his point, his fingers indenting the soft flesh and you almost melt right there. 

You nod, wetting  your lips as he shoves the files on his desk to the side and he doesn’t seem to care as they clatter to the floor. You arrange yourself in front of his desk with your legs spread and bend over at the waist, bracing your weight on your forearms and the muscles in your belly are already clenching when you feel him step up behind you.  He runs his hands lightly over your sides and you almost fold in on yourself when he hits that one spot underneath your rib cage, the one that’s the almost-but-not-quite kind of ticklish that just makes the hair on your neck stand up and your muscles quiver. 

Your eyelids flutter and you try your best to stay still as he pets you, ghosting his hands over your hips and your backside, teasingly slipping a finger underneath the elastic of your panties and letting it snap back against your skin. Your back arches in response and you bite your lip, the anticipation almost enough to make you moan.

 “Just look at you, dirty girl,” He murmurs from behind you and you think you can feel the fabric of his slacks if you concentrate hard enough, the touch maddeningly fleeting and you have to keep yourself from pressing back into him, from rolling your hips in an effort to entice him. You know from experience he’ll just make you wait longer if you do but it does nothing to dull the ache that has flared to life between your spread thighs. If anything the knowledge just makes it burn hotter. 

“Coming all the way here in lingerie I bought you and nothing to cover it except that flimsy coat,” His words are scolding but his hands are still gentle on your skin. “Anyone could have seen you, do you know that? Anyone could have seen what is mine,” If someone had told you six months ago that you would be dissolving into Cassian Andor’s desk at the sound of his voice in your ear, at the sound of him taking verbal possession of you, you would have laughed in their face. 

And yet here you are, trying to concentrate on your breathing and trying not to shake, waiting for his next move with bated breath. He has to know what it does to you when he calls you his. His anything. His baby, his girl. There’s been a handful of times where he’s called you his darling outside of having sex and it makes your heart race each and every time. He has to know. 

But then he leans over you and you can feel his shirt drag along the bare skin of your back and the cold press of his belt buckle and then you can’t think of anything else. His breath skates over your ear and your teeth dig into your lip, your eyelids fluttering as you try to listen to what he’s saying. 

“For every one you don’t count, you get five more. Okay?”  If someone had told you six months ago that you would want to be spanked, that you would crave the burn to the point you thought about it at night, that would make you whine, you would have laughed them out of the building. But here you are. Here you are and the way he’s making it sound in this context, like it’s a punishment for interrupting him or going out in lingerie with the only thing protecting you from flashing the wrong person being one measly coat, is only cranking you hotter.

“Yes,” Your voice almost gets stuck in your throat and slips through your teeth in a hiss because he’s pressing his hips forward and you can feel the wood digging into the front of your own and all you want to do is press back. You don’t realize your mistake until he hums behind you, low in his throat and sounding as disappointed as a hum can be and he squeezes your hip in something that might be a warning. 

“Yes what?” You can’t stop the shudder that wracks through this time, just like you can’t stop yourself from leaning back into him, a small whine tumbling from your lips.

“Yes, Cassian,” Cassian. Somehow calling his name makes the room feel hotter and the air heavier because it’s intimate. There’s no sir, no generic, false title to hide behind when you’re together, nothing you can use to distance yourself from him. No corner of your mind that isn’t consumed by him. 

“Good girl.” You feel his lips behind your ear in a quick kiss, his beard just barely scratching your skin and you want it everywhere. He’s straightening up, taking a step back from then you mourn the loss of his heat. Your breathing picks up and you shift, reaching up to grab the edge of his desk in a vain attempt to ground yourself. 

He doesn’t give you any other warning before his palm is coming down on your right cheek, sharp enough and hard enough to make a sound, to make you jump and your body go taut, the air stalling in your chest before you’re melting over his desk. “One,” Your voice is trembling already while his hand returns to you, smoothing over your skin and soothing the sting he just inflicted and you know if he touched you right then his fingers would come away wet. 

His hand comes down on your other cheek, lower this time, close to where your thigh meets your ass and you count him off with a gasp because the biting sting is already beginning to turn into something different, worked into something new under his kneading fingers and it makes you keen as you count him off.

Three, four and— you don’t count the fifth one even though you’ve slipped from your elbows, your cheek pressing into the cool wood. Each smack had gotten progressively lower until each of them landed where your thighs meet your ass, the vibrations going straight straight to your pussy. 

You don’t bother hiding your smile from him, not seeing the point in hiding your enjoyment from him. He can’t help but tease you for it though, leaning over you again and your abused ass smarts when his slacks rub against it, chills ripping through you. “Dirty girl,” He sounds like he’s laughing at your pain but there’s an almost reverential note in his voice even as you squirm underneath him, the wood rubbing against your nipples in the exact right way to have sparks flying. “I almost forgot how much you like this,”

Liar. He knows. He knows and that’s exactly why he’s letting you try to rock back into him, rubbing yourself like a cat in heat against the bulge of his cock. Your belly is coiling tight and your mouth is watering for more, everything just enough to keep you on edge. To tease without offering any real relief and for some reason you love it. You love how he can boil you down to sensations alone, to make you crave and ache and need.

The next smacks land dead center on the junction of your thighs and your ass and you count off every one, the contact going right to your buzzing clit that you’re trying to grind into the edge of his desk in a vain attempt to dull the edge. You’re gripping the desk so hard that your knuckles are lightening a shade, the skin pulled taut over the bone.

The last one is the one that kills you, that makes you hold your breath and arch. Your legs are spread wide enough for his hand to easily fit between them but you still aren’t expecting him to slap you there, an obscene noise filling the room that makes your ears burn. Your moan is delayed but it’s loud, electric pleasure rocketing up your spine and he keeps his hand there. He keeps constant pressure against your thrumming cunt and lets you grind into it, whimpering the count while you push yourself onto your hands now for more leverage. 

The lace of your panties drags through your soaked folds and the friction is amazing. So amazing that you almost don’t feel him lean in closer, all your attention on your pussy but then his mouth is at your ear again and his free hand is sliding up your chest, fingers splayed across your collarbones and holding you against him.

His head dips and he mouths at the side of your neck, teeth scraping and his beard scratching. His hand moves again but doesn’t go far, his fingers pinching your nipple. “You’re so good for me,” He mumbles and he sounds almost as lost as you feel. 

“Turn around,” His accent has thickened in the way you love and you swallow back the disappointed moan when he takes his hands from you, waiting for you to comply. 

You’re trembling as you do, your eyes fluttering open and the lights of the city swim in front of you before your eyes focus on the man who pulled away before you could cum on his hand, nearly all from spanking you. Not for the first time you wonder if he’s even real— but the ache at the very core of you says he is, says that you don’t know how but his hands on you are your favorite thing.

And then he’s grabbing you and lifting you onto his desk, stepping between your slick thighs and you have to reach for him, unable to stand it anymore and murmuring his name. He beats you to it, warm hands sliding around your jaw and cupping your face as he leans in.

The first brush of his lips on yours makes you sigh, as if his kiss brings you relief even while it stokes the fire deep within you. Your hands fist in the sides of his shirt as he deepens the kiss, angling your head just how he wants and slicking his tongue into your mouth. A moan rises from the back of your throat as you wind your legs around his hips to keep him pressed close, unwilling or just plain unable to do anything that would make him break the kiss because you aren’t, not until your lungs start to burn from the lack of oxygen. 

The most you can manage while he eats at your mouth, his beard abrading your skin in a way you know you’ll curse him for later when it turns painful but you can’t seem to get enough of it, is yanking his once perfectly crisp, pressed dress shirt out of his pants because you keep grabbing at him like he isn’t already close enough, your spine bowing with the way he’s leaning into you.  

If this was a purely business relationship you don’t think you’d be like this, you don’t think you would go out of your way to see him at all, to make him food. But you are and you did— you wrapped yourself up like a present for him in the hopes he’d fuck you the way that makes your toes curl, better than he really has any business doing, but you had brought him food. That’s the detail that doesn’t fit, the one crooked picture frame in the hallway. You took the time and effort to make him something you know he likes because you know he hadn’t eaten yet.  He has to know.

His mouth only breaks from yours when your back hits his desk and your lips are shiny and wet from your combined saliva and your chest is heaving as he trails openmouthed kisses along your jaw to your neck. His hands leave your face in favor of lavishing attention on your breasts, groping you through the lace and the silk just adding to the softness of you that he adores. 

His teeth scrape down the sensitive skin of your throat, rolling and tweaking your nipples between his fingers as his mouth continues a steady and determined path path until his mouth is engulfing one over your bra, wetting the material with his tongue and for some reason that makes the muscles in your belly twist tighter. Your hands have slipped to his shoulders, nails scratching into his shirt for something to hold on to and because you can’t imagine not touching him. He gives your other nipple the same treatment and he’s slipping a hand underneath the thin, flimsy band of your panties to knead your hip.

But then his hand is turning, grasping the band and yanking it, a tearing sound filling the room and this time when you say his name it’s a yelp of both surprise and a poor attempt at a reprimand as you push yourself up because that pair was one of your favorites. He doesn’t stop what he’s doing as he looks up at you, his mouth traveling down until he’s mouthing at your stomach and the look in his dark eyes makes your breath catch at the back of your throat. 

“I’ll make it up to you, cariño,” His voice is low and crooning, placating you as he throws your ruined underwear somewhere to the side and you have a crystal clear realization of what he means by making it up to you when he reaches behind him to pull his chair up, his eyes never leaving yours. He’s going to eat you alive. 

Your breath stutters as he starts arranging you how he wants, spreading your thighs wider and one hand smoothing down your leg to grasp your ankle and lift, placing it on top of his desk and you’ve never felt more on display in your life. You lean your weight back onto your hands, unable to look away from him as he looks at you with heavy eyes, the sigh loud as it leaves his mouth and it’s the same sigh you hear when you wrap your lips around his cock, the sigh he only makes when he’s being pleasured and he’s making it while just looking at you.  It makes your head spin in the best way, your skin prickling when he strokes that same hand back along the line of your leg until he reaches your thigh, giving it a squeeze that makes you feel as if you might burst if he does it again.

You barely register the cool air on your weeping slit because he’s leaning forward and licking a thick stripe up the length of you and you don’t know who groans louder— you or Cassian. You feel like you’re going to collapse as he begins devouring you in earnest, one hand pressed into your thigh to make sure your leg doesn’t slip from the desk and his teeth and tongue flickering over your clit, but you can’t look away from him. 

The lights behind him slide together into a neon haze and he’s looking up at you with blown out pupils and strands of hair falling across his forehead and you don’t think you’ve seen anything more beautiful than him at this moment. Your nails scrape against the wood as you reach one hand down to clutch at his hair and the sound he makes when you tug on the strands burrows into your cunt and leaves you reeling. 

As if that knocked over some domino he starts to mumble against your swollen flesh, his tone dark and rich as he goes on about your taste, how sweet you are under his tongue and how good you are for him and the praise goes straight to your head, your heart pounding against the weight of your ribcage. Somewhere in a hazy part of your mind you wonder how you made it this long without him—  like you do every time you’re together again after any absence, any time apart.

And you’ll never tell him that outside of the bedroom— office, as it was right at this moment. You’ll never tell him that in a voice that isn’t rushed and panting, begging to be touched because you don’t know what this is anymore. You know what it started as, a way for him to have company and a little eye candy on his arm for industry functions. A shield against unwanted advances. But then you actually, genuinely enjoyed your time with him. Had started looking forward to it and the way he wasn’t pushing you for sex. That part of your relationship had evolved on its own and once it did there was no stopping it, and you both just...ran with it. 

And now here you are, making him food and letting him fuck you for what might as well be free and you’re reveling in it.

You’re rocking your hips forward, incapable of staying still now with each of your nerve endings on fire and that’s when he decides to feed one of his fingers into you, stretching you open in ways that make your own fingers pale in comparison and it’s like a dam bursts somewhere within you, mewls and whimpers pouring from your lips and if he was anyone else you might be embarrassed about the noises you’re making. 

But you’re not. You’re not because in response, as if the bastard is rewarding you for starting to fall apart underneath his mouth, his mouth latches onto your clit and sucks, pressing his tongue into the bundle of nerves hard enough to make you see stars as your eyes squeeze shut, your thighs jumping. 

“I think you can take another, don’t you?” His voice is rough and you feel the blunt pressure of a second finger pressing against your entrance—  but he doesn’t go any farther than that, not until you’re nodding, almost frantic with his name stuck in your throat. 

The second digit makes your mouth fall open and your head tips back before you can help it, because he’s sinking it into your fluttering cunt up to the knuckle with the first and holding them there, just letting you have the sensation of being filled while he sets his mouth back on your clit. 

His free hand leaves your thigh and he groans into your soaked folds a moment later, and somehow you manage the strength to lift your head and look. What you see makes your hips roll forwards, grinding yourself into his fingers and his tongue because you can see his hand moving, palming his cock through his slacks. The cock that you know is heavy and hot to the touch and must be aching at this point and suddenly that’s all you can think about. 

He’s taking you apart with his mouth and you’re still greedy for more of him, because of course you are. You want his mouth and his fingers and his cock so deep inside of you that you can feel him in the back of your throat. 

A pathetic, needy sound spills from somewhere deep in your chest just like that all his focus is on you again, his hand returning to slide over your hip and lock down to keep your hips pinned to his desk. He starts pumping his fingers, curling them in the exact right way to have your vision start to fuzz out at the edges.

Distantly you hear him goad you on in that honeyed voice, coaxing you to the edge and shoving you over it. He keeps driving his fingers into you, stretching and curling as your cunt flutters around them and mercilessly dragging you through your orgasm. His teeth catch your clit and you melt down, your body clamping around his fingers and your world narrowing to this one delicious point.

Stars burst behind your eyelids and you cry something that might be his name when your lungs remember how to work while your nails scratch over his scalp, but he takes care of you. 

He soothes you, guiding you back to earth with a gentle hand and turning his head to mouth lazily at the inside of your thigh when the sensations get to be too much and you have to push him away from your cunt. Your legs are quivering on either side of his head and your heart is erratic in your chest, and Cassian has started to rub your thighs as if he's trying to soothe you, as if he can't get enough of you even now. 

You can't seem to unlock your fingers from his hair as he starts to rise, his mouth and beard glistening and he's— he's smiling at you while he crowds into your space all over again. This time when you kiss it's slow and languid and utterly filthy because you taste yourself in his tongue, the damp bristles of his beard scratching your chin and you never want it to end. 

The hand in his hair slips to his face, cupping his jaw as it works while your arm winds around his shoulders, holding him close and it's only when your trembling legs wrap around his hips, your ankles crossing at the small of his back that he pulls back, a dark chuckle on his lips. "Greedy girl," he nudges your cheek with his nose, angling your head just right so he can suck a mark underneath your jaw. 

You don’t try to deny it— why bother when you’re reaching to fumble with his belt, trying to focus enough to yank his zipper down while his teeth are at your throat. Desperation makes you clumsy as you shove his slacks and underwear down his thighs and you don’t bother stifling your moan when you see him,  flushed and weeping, a pearly bead of precum slipping down the tip of his shaft and if was physically possible to dissolve into a puddle of pure need you think you would right there. 

Like a magnet your hand goes to it, wrapping your fingers around the searing girth of him and stroking. Cassian huffs into your throat, grunting as you twist your wrist and swipe your thumb over his tip. He lets you play, leaning more of his weight into the line of your body and the heat pouring off of him makes you shudder. 

He doesn’t make any move to stop you despite him straining closer and the ache flaring, sharp and bright deep within you. You know what he wants, had played this particular game with him countless times, each of you trying to outlast the other while being driven out of your minds with want. You love it, love how the need strips you down to base urges and emotions without fear of looking foolish. How it makes your time together, short as it is at times, seem to unravel in front of you and spool into something greater than it is. 

But you’re weak. Your first orgasm did nothing to satisfy you, if anything it just made everything worse in some twisted way.

“Cassian,” You beseech him, your voice gone soft and breathy as you try to pull him even closer.

“What is it, querida?” He husks into your ear, lips pulling into a sharp smile when you rip your hand away from his cock to brace yourself as he pushes forward,  just enough for you to feel the weight of his cock pressing against your folds, so close to where you want him that you can almost taste it. “Do you want my cock so badly you’ve forgotten how to speak?” 

He’s hitting his stride now, delighting in the way you choke on a moan. “Please, Cassian,” You try again, wetting your lips. “Give it to me,” You pull on his shirt and roll your hips and what’s left of your brain almost short circuits because he catches the dip of your entrance and you still, breath whooshing over your teeth.

“Since you asked so nicely,” He concedes, voice scraping the air between you and then he’s filling you. Your legs tense around his hips and some high, keening noise fills the air that you realize a few moments too late is coming from you because you think you can feel every ridge as he thrusts home. Your hands are everywhere— flitting from his shoulders to his back to his arms and back again, because you can’t seem to figure out the best way to keep him as close as possible. 

He’s not any better than you are, his fingers digging into your hips, your thighs. Refusing to allow you any space to pull away from him when the sensations get to be too much, refusing to allow you any reprieve from him at all because his mouth is at your neck as he starts to thrust, groaning against your skin. 

One thing about Cassian is that he talks. As if something about experiencing pleasure jumpstarts his tongue he’s only quiet when he’s kissing you or sucking at your skin, and he’ll inevitably break away to start murmuring nonsense to you, languages getting muddled and mixed in his mouth the closer he gets to completion. He talks, and he expects answers.

“That’s it, princesa,” He breathes at your ear when you roll your hips just right, when your cunt tightens even further around his cock like you never want him to leave. He always praises you, telling you how you feel wrapped around him like a vice. How good you’re being for him, how well you’re taking his cock. “I make you feel good, don’t I?” 

All you can do is moan at him because the bastard knows he does, as if it isn’t staggeringly, blindingly obvious in the way you’re holding onto him, the sounds you’re making as he drives into you over and over again. But as much as he likes to talk, he likes hearing you more and you’ve taken too long. 

“Answer me,” He says and swats your thigh, hard enough that a tingling warmth spreads out along your skin from the point of contact and the bite of pain somehow puts the pleasure into a sort of perspective, contrasting it so perfectly that your legs are tightening around his thrusting hips and your mouth is falling open.

“Yes, yes, Cassian, you do,” The words fall over themselves in the push to get out of your mouth and he’s praising you again, both verbally and in the way his hand snakes between you, fingers unerringly finding your clit and it makes you jerk like you’ve been electrocuted, arcs of sizzling pleasure sweeping through your body.

He leans over you and he doesn’t stop, the calloused pads of his fingers rubbing world-ending circles into your clit and all you can do is hold onto him, squirming and arching against him because his other arm has wound around your back to pull you flush and there’s nowhere for you to go except Cassian.

Cassian, Cassian, Cassian. How he speaks like he does you have no idea because the only thing you can seem to reliably get out of your mouth is his name, unburdened by things like sentence structure while he grunts and groans, tongue tying himself in Spanish and you’ve picked up enough to get the gist of what he’s saying. He’s telling you how hard he’s going to make you cum, how he’s going to fill you up. How the next time you show up like this he’s going to make you ride him.

Everything combines and your gust twists, the pleasure turning caustic as it burns you up from the inside out, vision blurring as you try to scramble back away from him out of instinct, away from the looming threat of overstimulation but his arm at your back prevents it and he just keeps fucking into you hard and deep, this fingers never leaving your clit. The only thing you’re able to do is dig your nails in and hold on as you sob, squeezing your eyes tight enough, the pleasure sharp and intense enough to have a tear slip down your cheek.

In the next moments his pace falters, his hips stuttering and turning sloppy. He bucks into you with an almost bruising force and holds himself there as he releases and you can’t help but whine at the feel of it, of him shuddering in your arms.

Neither of you speak for long moments, instead just weathering the aftershocks in each other’s embrace as you both come down from your highs, breathing raggedly. His hand sweeps over your back in long, soothing strokes and he presses kisses into your shoulders, your neck, his touches soft and mindful now that the frenzy has passed.

“Are you okay?” His voice is as soft as his hands and you can’t help the smile that tugs on your lips as you nuzzle closer to him, humming your answer into his neck while his hand comes up to stroke your hair.

“Words, princesa. Are you okay?” He admonishes gently and you can’t help the small chuckle that bubbles up in your throat at his insistence, at the warm feeling that spreads throughout your body at the sound of his concern.

“Yes, Cassian. I promise,”  It’s then that he smiles down at you curled into his chest, reassured, and you don’t know how long you stay like that, wrapped around each other and each of you not wanting to be the first to let go. It’s in these moments, your heart rate calming while he rests in you, seemingly loathe to pull out, that you think there may be something more to this than just sex or companionship at parties for him. 

No matter how rough he is with you during the act he always treats you like some precious thing afterwards, all murmured words and comforting touches. Running his hand down your spine, over your hair. Telling you how good you did, how proud he is of you for taking everything he throws at you and calling you things like beautiful girl and all the pet names he uses while he’s fucking you except there’s a distinct affection to them now and they make your heart jump and butterflies fill you stomach.

You’re almost drifting off, a consequence of being warm and sated and well-fucked, when he speaks again. “Did you really bring me food?” He sounds equal parts excited and cautious, like he’s trying not to get his hopes up too much and you can’t help but laugh as you start to untangle yourself from him. 

“I made you a sandwich,” You tell him, a fresh wave of warmth swelling up in your chest at the look on his face. You readjust on the desk, your breath catching when his cock slips from your cunt and then you’re reaching back, your fingers just snagging the lunch bag because you don’t trust your legs to work quite yet. Cassian once again pulls his chair up, leaning back to watch you unwrap the food and like he’s incapable of not touching you one of his hands returns to your thigh, idling stroking from your knee to your hip so gently you’re not sure if it’s a conscious movement or not. 

“You didn’t have to do all this,” He starts when he sees the sandwich, one that requires actual effort instead of something that only calls for throwing together leftovers and calling it good enough, but you only shrug a shoulder. 

“I wanted to.” There’s more there but he doesn’t question you further, and you don’t know whether that’s a blessing or a curse. “You were working late and you don’t always eat, so…” You let the words fade into the air, revealing to him that you listen to what he tells you and remember. The remembering is the important part and a flash of regret ignites in your chest almost as soon as the words leave your mouth, but he’s looking at you with the same expression you think you had when he took you to the art museum for the first time, never complaining as you wandered for hours.

“There’s two halves— I’ll only eat if you share it with me.” His smile turns tricky at the edges and he doesn’t reach for the sandwich at all, waiting for your answer and despite yourself, despite knowing it shouldn’t, you feel your heart melt a little. 

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Andor,”  You smile, try for a light, casual tone as you reach for your half and ignore the way his eyes light up. 

You eat slowly, savoring the tastes and textures, the office filled with a downy, plush sort of silence as you bask in the afterglow. He’s watching you the entire time, holding the sandwich with one hand because his other hasn’t left your skin, tracing patterns into the inside of your knee and sweeping his fingers over the curve of your thigh. 

You try to focus on the city behind him, afraid that if you look at his face too long you’ll get caught up and start confessing things to him, things that are better left unsaid, carefully danced around in conversation no matter how blatant they are in your actions— like going out of your way to come see him when you could’ve just stayed home and enjoyed a quiet night in. Like coating yourself in sweet smelling oils that make your skin even softer to the touch, like wrapping yourself up in lace and silk just for him.

You almost don’t realize the chill creeping over your exposed skin, goosebumps following in its wake and before you can complain Cassian is slipping his suit jacket off the chair behind him and holding it out to you. “Here, put this on,” There’s no question in his tone, no tentative ‘are you cold?’ And maybe that’s the reason you find yourself so drawn to him; he pays attention to you, to the things you think no one else bothers to notice.

You murmur your thanks and slip the fabric over your shoulders, warm and smelling of his cologne and you feel...you feel almost content sitting up on his desk and sharing the meal you made, his watch pressing heavy into your skin when he squeezes your knee.

You lick at the last bit of mustard clinging to a finger as you finish your half, acutely aware of his eyes on you as your tongue dabs at your own skin. He’s leaning his elbow onto one of the arms of his chair, his chin resting in his hand and covering his mouth,  his eyes never wavering from your body and just like that your skin starts to prickle again, sensing a change in the air between you.

His eyes rove over your body, slow and heating again at the sight of you like this, his jacket hanging loose on your shoulders and almost seeming to frame your breasts, your thighs spread on his desk to keep yourself upright and maybe to relieve the scratches left by his beard. His eyes catch on the pearly drops on the dark wood on his desk, your combined essences leaking out of you and his breath leaves him in a long sigh, watching it ooze from your flushed cunt.

The hand on your thigh starts to move, slowly as to not startle you as it smooths along the inside of your thigh and you don’t stop him. You watch him with bated breath, watch the way his brow knits with concentration and his breathing deepens. 

Your thighs jump at the first brush of his thumb along your oversensitive folds and you see his head tilt, visibly engrossed with the sight in front of him and the realization of what he’s doing hits you like a punch to the gut. 

He runs his thumb down and up, scooping his cum up as it seeps out and pushing it back into you, his thumb thick and insistent and your mouth falls open in a silent moan, eyes fluttering. He rubs his mouth, not looking up at you as he repeats the process again while he begins to speak, words heavy in the air between you. 

“How did you get here?” 

You breathe slow and deep, trying to make your brain connect to your tongue but it’s hard to think. It’s hard to think because you’re hypersensitive, but he’s moving so slow and soft, mindful of the razor’s edge you’re sitting on and the depths his thumb is reaching within you are just shallow enough to have you starting to want more all over again.

“I— uhmm,” You cut yourself off, a hum rising from the back of your throat as his thumb stills, sheathed in your quivering core and acting as a plug to keep any more of his cum from escaping for the time being. “I took a cab,” 

You lean back on your hands, trying to breathe through the sensation of being filled but not enough to truly satisfy you, and you wonder how you’re supposed to live without this when the arrangement inevitably ends, because you know it will. He makes no effort to hide how much he likes spoiling you, but you think that it’s only a matter of time before he decides that bleeding money for you is too much of an unnecessary expense, and then what? 

Are you supposed to move on knowing what it feels like to have lingerie that costs more than your rent ripped off you, only to be replaced in the next few days and knowing that you’ll probably never experience the thrill it brings again? To know what it feels like to be so thoroughly taken care of you can’t see straight and try to find it in someone else? Cassian is passion and intensity paired with soft smiles and bright laughter, and you don’t know if you’ll ever find that in someone else, and it scares you more than you care to admit, even to yourself.

He looks up at you then, his eyes dark and glimmering in the low light, his hair mussed from your fingers and your chest bows. For how much you tried to focus on anything else but him while you ate, you can’t look away from him now.

“Good,” He starts, his voice warm and slow as honey. “You’re coming home with me.”

[hyunllx]

The Christmas Baker

A Hyunlix Hallmark Fic Chapter 1/5 wc: 4k Hwang Hyunjin is a rich, cocky, famous dancer that prefers to keep to himself during the holidays. When his roommate drags him along to visit his hometown, however, Hyunjin meets a boy who helps him believe in the spirit of the season. Primarily Hyunjin’s pov with Felix’s pov added in occasionally. series warnings: Extremely cliche. You will probably cringe at some points but its okay. chapter warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol. note: This fic is not meant to accurately reflect or portray the members of SKZ. This is just for fun. Next Chapter

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    A deep pounding in the temples roused Hyunjin from his sleep, a groan escaping him as he tried to sit up, his head spinning. He remembered he’d crashed on the couch again in the middle of the night after coming home from another company party. As usual, he’d had too much to drink and couldn’t make it all the way to his bedroom to undress or sleep properly. Now his neck and shoulders hurt from the uncomfortable couch and he felt like he needed a year long hot shower.

  The smell of cooking registered in his nose, turning his stomach but waking him up a little more. He could hear the soft voice of his room mate and best friend, Chan, chiming from the kitchen, singing along to a christmas song he couldn’t quite make out.

  Chan emerged from the kitchen carrying a steaming bowl, grinning wide as he noticed Hyunjin up and somewhat alert,

  “Hey sleepyhead, you’re finally awake.” His voice was high and babyish as he approached the couch.

  Hyunjin groaned again. No matter how close they were, he was still embarrassed whenever Chan pulled out his cute charms around him. Lacking the energy to complain so soon after waking up, he just took the bowl from Chan and brought it to his lips without a word. Despite expecting the taste of Chan’s famous hangover soup, Hyunjin still recoiled as the spices burned his tongue and throat. He coughed sharply, earning a pat on the head from his friend,

  “That’ll wake you up for sure.”

  “What’s that?” Hyunjin pointed to the luggage piled next to their apartment’s front door, distracting himself as he took another scalding sip of the soup broth. Chan tilted his head like a confused puppy, frowning,

  “I’m leaving to stay with my brother for break, remember?”

  “That’s today?”

  “Of course. Christmas is only four days away you know.” He didn’t know, but Hyunjin didn’t want to say that out loud. People were always either appalled that he didn’t celebrate the holidays or they pitied him. In reality he never got to celebrate like others did when his parents were busy with holiday music events and parties. He was used to being alone this time of year. Still, he couldn’t help eye the stack of bags with jealousy. The thought of waking up on christmas morning without his best friend was not something he looked forward to.

  Chan noticed the way his eyes kept flicking toward the door,

  “Are you sure I can leave you alone for so long?”

  Hyunjin scoffed, “What do you mean? I’m an adult, I can take care of myself.”

  “Getting drunk every night until Christmas is not taking care of yourself, Hyunnie.” Hyunjin grimaced at the nickname. Chan only used it when he was sincerely worried about him, and Hyunjin didn’t want to have this serious of a conversation when he’d be leaving right after. He focused on finishing his breakfast instead, skin burning where Chan was watching him.

  “Why don’t you come with me?”

  Hyunjin choked as he inhaled broth in shock at the proposition,

  “Excuse me?” He managed between coughs.

  “I mean it. I don’t want you to be here by yourself.”

  The witty come back on Hyunjin’s tongue burned away when he met Chan’s sad eyes. Truthfully, he didn’t want to be here alone either, but the thought of staying in a stranger’s house in a strange town was equally unappealing. 

  “I know my brother won’t mind. He loves company, and we’ll make room for you.”

  “I’m not going to win this fight, am I?” Hyunjin sighed, defeated.

  “Nope!” Chan grinned and dragged him into a one-sided hug, “I’ll help you pack once you wake up.”

  It didn't take long for Hyunjin to shower and collect his things. Though what he owned was luxurious and expensive, he didn't own much of anything. His clothes for the trip took up a rolling suitcase and everything else fit neatly in his shoulder bag. How Chan managed to fill three duffle bags, a laptop case, and his backpack, Hyunjin would never know. Still, between the two of them packing up Chan’s car, they managed to get on the road by the time he’d wanted to leave. 

  “Do you mind if I call him to let him know we’re coming?” Chan asked, fiddling with his dashboard to connect the car to his phone.

  Hyunjin shrugged, putting in his ear buds to respect the privacy of their conversation. Even with his volume turned, though, the reverberating bass of the deepest “Hello?” he’d ever heard cut through to his ears. 

  Hyunjin had never seen Chan’s brother, but he couldn’t imagine the person that voice must be coming from. His eyes widened as he listened to them talk,

  “I’m on my way over now!” Chan said, flashing Hyunjin a bright smile when he noticed his friend’s face, “Hey, I’m sorry for not asking earlier but my roommate didn’t have a place to celebrate Christmas, so is it alright I brought him along?”

  “Of course, of course!” His brother responded, his voice lightening only slightly with warmth, “I’ll get the guest room ready. Will he be coming to the party?”

  Hyunjin sat up straighter at the mention of a party, looking toward Chan, who only rolled his eyes,

  “Yeah, I think it’ll be good for him to go.”

  “Sweet! I’ll see you guys when you get here.”

  “Love you, Lix.”

  “Love you too!”

  “Party?” Hyunjin asked curiously as soon as they hung up the call, “I thought you wanted me to stay away from parties.”

  “It’s not the kind of party you’re thinking of.” Chan shook his head, a laugh hiding behind his lips, “It’s a celebration on Christmas Eve. Everyone comes together for free food and gifts.”

  “Sounds boring.” As long as there’s liquor for the adults, he thought to himself. He knew he’d need it to get through that kind of Christmas cheer. Chan only hummed in response, turning on the radio. It didn’t take long for him to start singing along to the holiday music, definitely not helping Hyunjin’s mood, even with his own music playing through his headphones.

  It took a couple songs passing without him registering the music for Hyunjin to realize he was still thinking about the voice on the other end of the car speakers. So warm yet so deep and mysterious at the same time. Chan talked often with pride about his younger brother, but Hyunjin had never taken the time to envision what the boy was actually like. In his head he was just a younger Chan. Clearly not with that voice. If he’d heard someone speak like that in a club or at a venue, he’d be flirting with them in an instant.

  After an hour of passive contemplation and at least ten plays of Mariah Carey's All I Want For Christmas Is You, Hyunjin finally pulled out his ear buds and turned down the radio. Chan turned to look at him mid-lyric,

  "What's wrong?"

  "Tell me more about your brother." Chan opened his mouth to gush like usual but paused, looking at him curiously,

  "You've never asked about him before."

  "It would be rude to show up at his house and not know anything about him."

  “I talk about him all the time?”

  “I don’t listen.” He lied.

  Chan rolled his eyes, “Well… his name is Felix. He’s the same age as you are, 6 months younger. I basically raised him when we were kids because our parents were gone all the time. He owns and works at a little bakery in town-”

  “He’s a baker?” Now Hyunjin was really confused. 

  “The BEST baker!” Chan corrected, a little over-excited, “Seriously, all your stress will melt away the second you taste his brownies. He’s also a great cook, of course. And he’s a dancer, like you!”

  Hyunjin couldn’t figure this boy out. Every detail Chan shared over the following half hour was like gaining a new jigsaw piece that belonged to a completely different puzzle. “Felix” was a baker at heart with a passion for singing and dancing. Somehow he’d never followed in his elder brother’s footsteps despite being a gifted musician. By the time he was done listening, he both regretted asking and was unimaginably curious. All because of that stupidly deep voice on the other end of the call. 

  They drove from late morning until sunset, the city passing by them giving way to towns and eventually just an expanse of highway and trees. Occasionally an off-ramp would lead to some semblance of civilization beyond the humming of the cars around them, otherwise there was nothing this far out of the city. Clouds on the horizon turned deep red and purple as Chan finally took an exit, a storm in the distance squeezing the last drops of golden light from the sun before it set.

  They took several winding turns through the trees until the sun disappeared behind them and lights flared up around the car. Hyunjin stared in amazement as the trees lining the main road held strings of christmas lights in their branches, leading them straight to the town’s center. Though he would never admit it out loud, Hyunjin thought they were beautiful. 

  The entire town was decorated as though they had just entered the north pole. Every light pole held an oversized wreath, every tree strung with lights, every hovel and storefront decorated as if they wanted to see their tiny town from space. Hyunjin was dumbstruck; he was used to this kind of sight in big cities. It was to draw tourists and commerce for the big stores and the attractions. But here, this tiny town had none of that. They did this for the joy of it. How anyone could be in love with this holiday in such a way, he did not know. He was so lost in wonder he didn’t even notice they’d stopped until Chan turned the car off and the radio stopped playing, snapping Hyunjin’s attention back to reality.

  They’d pulled up to the small driveway of an equally small house. It was two stories tall, but only wide enough to fit the front door and a window on the first story. Thin trails of smoke rose from the back of the house, and a porch enclosed the entrance, orange light spilling out onto the wooden steps from the door’s frosted glass window.

  Shivers ripped through Hyunjin as he stepped out of the car, his breath swirling around him in a puff of steam. The temperature had dropped below freezing already, the cold eating away the nerves that started bubbling in Hyunjin’s stomach. The house in front of him looked cozy and warm and he just wanted to get inside.

  “Come on!” Chan grinned, motioning for Hyunjin to follow as he nearly sprinted up the stairs. The door was unlocked for them, and he shuffled after his friend into the heat of the home. He rubbed his hands together as he stood over the humming radiator of the entryway, taking in the overwhelming sensory experience of the home. Other than the warmth, the first thing to hit Hyunjin was the smell of food cooking somewhere deeper in the house, making his stomach growl. He hadn’t eaten much more than a few snacks since his breakfast soup. 

  Secondly, everything was covered in christmas decorations. Everything. The walls, the stairs to the second floor, the doors, the dining room to their left. Even the crown molding lining the ceiling of the old house. The warm orange light he’d seen from outside was emitted by dozens if not hundreds of little warm-white bulbs. It was as if Santa Claus himself lived there.

  “We’re here!” Chan called out, waddling into the hallway with Hyunjin right behind. A half-laugh half-yell of excitement burst from what Hyunjin assumed was the kitchen, startling him. Yet the human that emerged from the doorway was the most shocking part.

  The boy was just a tiny bit shorter than Chan, and petite enough to be swimming in his oversized sweater and apron. His hair was a shade more platinum than Hyunjin's own blonde, his skin a soft russet with splashes of dark freckles across his nose and cheeks.

  "Hyung!" He exclaimed in a high-pitched voice as he ran into Chan's outstretched arms. Certainly this wasn't the same boy that spoke over the car speakers.

  "You must be Hyunjin!" His deep voice returned as he pulled away from his brother, beaming up at Hyunjin with the world's brightest grin, "It's nice to meet you!"

  "Nice to meet you t-" Hyunjin had extended a hand for a handshake but Felix quickly ignored it, pulling him into a sudden hug. Hyunjin stiffened at the informality, entirely unprepared to meet someone that was even more physically affectionate than Chan. He could see the family resemblance. 

  “Don’t be nervous,” Felix tried to soothe him, patting his back before pulling away, “You’re hyung’s friend, so this is your home too.”

  Hyunjin couldn’t respond, his brain was short-circuiting from the physical affection and the deep voice and all the lights. All he could process was Chan trying desperately yet failing to suppress a laugh in his direction. Thankfully, an obnoxious beeping from the kitchen saved him from having to formulate a response.

  “Ah! Dinner’s ready, you guys made it just in time!” He scurried off to fetch the food, bouncing along with excitement as he ran like a child.

  “You alright?” Chan chuckled, smacking Hyunjin between the shoulderblades to grab his attention.

  “What have you dragged me into?” He whispered, hoping his host wouldn’t hear.

  “Come on Hyunjin, I know you guys are going to end up getting along just fine.” Chan winked at him, which Hyunjin thought was odd, but at this point everything around him was twisted backwards and upside down so he didn’t think much more of it. 

  They hung up their jackets and Chan led him into the dining room where Felix was setting out three large bowls of rice next to three bowls of the most delicious smelling kimchi stew Hyunjin had ever seen. The chandelier that hung over the small table was turned off, the room illuminated instead by the vibrant white glow of the christmas tree in the corner of the room. Felix’s smile as they entered was just as bright; Hyunjin felt he couldn’t look too long or else he’d get lost in it. Instead he turned to Chan as he took a seat next to him, watching his friend’s nose scrunch up at the thought of a spicy meal.

  “Don’t worry, it’s not very spicy.” Felix assured, reading Hyunjin’s exact train of thought. Of course he’d know Chan couldn’t handle spicy food. He couldn’t even eat the hangover soup he made Hyunjin in the mornings. 

  “Thank God.” Chan nodded with relief, “Shall we eat? I’m starving.”

  “Of course, please help yourselves.” Felix said as he took a seat across from Hyunjin at the table, still smiling. Hyunjin still couldn’t look at him, his heart skipping at the sight of his grin. Instead, he dug into his stew. 

  An involuntary groan rumbled in his throat at the flavor, his body warming instantly as he slowed to savor the taste. Not that he’d had many home cooked meals in his life, but Hyunjin couldn’t help but think it was the best tasting meal he’d ever had.

  When he came back up from his bowl, Hyunjin froze under the stares of both Chan and Felix. They looked at him eagerly, leaning in as if waiting for him to speak.

  “Uh…” He struggled to find words as he swallowed a mouthful of beef, “It’s really good.”

  Felix let out a sigh of relief then a loud, sudden laugh. His grin swallowed his face again as he picked up his chopsticks,

  “Good! I was worried whether or not you’d like it.”

  The comment came off so casual that it left Hyunjin’s ears burning with embarrassment. Why did he care what Hyunjin thought about his food? They were strangers. Yet the longer he lingered in this house the more it felt familiar. Like he was visiting a beloved family member after years apart. He shook off the feeling. 

  He’s a stranger. Hyunjin reminded himself.

  “Is Seungmin still working at the bakery after moving out?” Chan asked when Hyunjin’s senses were ready to return to the conversation.

  “Yeah, but I gave him the week off.” Felix waved his hand dismissively, though a smirk lingered on his lips, “He deserves to spend as much time as he can with Minho.”

  “They’re back together?”

  “Do they ever really break up?” Both brothers laughed in agreement, nodding vigorously. Hyunjin was lost in the conversation, so he just sat and smiled awkwardly. Chan giggled teasingly as he continued, 

  “What about you? Is there a special boy I should meet while I’m here?”

  Hyunjin and Felix immediately locked eyes at the question. Felix’s face grew tomato-red, and the intense fire in his ears told Hyunjin they looked much the same. His head reeled as he realized that’s why Chan was never awkward whenever he came home to find Hyunjin with a boy, or why they never had the talk about it after. 

  “Uh.. No- no. I’m not seeing anyone.” Felix stuttered, stuffing his mouth with rice so he wouldn’t have to keep talking. Hyunjin felt sorry for him as the boy’s sunny smile vanished. He could sense Felix’s anxiety at being outed to a stranger. Even if he’d welcomed Hyunjin with open arms, this was a different level of personal information. He tried to catch Felix’s eye again but the boy was too focused on his food. Hyunjin cleared his throat instead,

  “That’s too bad. I was hoping to meet a cute boy while we were here.”

  Felix perked up a little at that, a smile entertaining the corners of his lips while he chewed. They finished their dinner in mostly silence, the sweet hum of christmas music filtering into the room via the kitchen. Though he knew he’d regret it when he returned to the dance studio after break, Hyunjin ate until he was completely full, letting himself indulge in the delicious food just this once.

  “So… just you in the bakery tomorrow?” Chan asked as they all leaned back in their chairs, finished and satisfied.

  “Yep!” Felix smiled and nodded as he stood to gather the empty dishes from the table, “I’m only aiming for 1000 this year so the two days should be plenty of time. As long as you’ll help?”

  “Of course! What are brothers for?”

  “1000 what?” Hyunjin looked between them, confused and apprehensive about being in a stranger’s home by himself.

  “Cookies! For the Christmas Eve Party. You’re welcome to come help too if you want.”

  Hyunjin screwed up his face at the idea; he was NOT a good cook, or baker. Hence his lack of experience with home-cooked meals, “I think I’ll just take the day to look around town.”

  “Well you’re welcome to stop by. It’ll just be us in there.” Was that disappointment in his deep voice? Hyunjin shook his head at the thought. While he certainly had a reputation for being cocky, he wasn’t typically this full of himself. There was no reason for this boy he’d just met to have such an impact on his emotions. Felix didn’t care about him or what he did. They didn’t know each other. Hyunjin was only here because of Chan. 

  “I’m going to start unloading the car.” He said, already heading for the front door. He needed to clear his head. The cold night air would help.

--------------------Felix--------------------

    “Is that everything?” Felix asked as he helped his brother tuck the last of the gifts he’d brought under the giant tree in his living room. His cheeks hurt from smiling, and he had to restrain himself from shaking the boxes whenever he glimpsed his name written on the tag.

  “Yep!” Chan smiled just as wide, pretending to dust off his hands, “Just have to unpack my clothes and stuff.”

  “Do you want help?”

  “Nah. I’ll be back down in a bit.” He scratched his fingers in Felix’s hair as he stood, making the younger boy giggle. Felix hadn’t realized how much he had missed his hyung; Chan was gone to the big city to chase his dreams and rarely got a break to come home. Whenever he visited, it felt like Felix’s heart was whole again. 

  As he stood up from his spot in front of the tree, Felix’s mind wandered from his brother to the stranger upstairs, Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin. 

  Being a dancer himself, Felix was familiar with the dancers that Chan worked with, spending hours memorizing their routines. The fact that Hyunjin was here in his home made nervous, star-struck butterflies flutter in his stomach. Even despite his cold demeanor.

  Felix could tell it was an act; the mask had slipped when Hyunjin rescued him from Chan accidentally outing that he liked boys in front of a stranger. It slipped in the way Hyunjin looked to Chan like a brother, for comfort and reassurance. There was a kind person underneath all that ice. He’d warm up once they got to know each other, Felix was sure of it.

  “I’ll go check on him, I think.” He mumbled to himself as he checked his pulse, a nervous tick he’d had since he was a child. He stopped to grab a pillow and blankets from the closet under the stairs, just in case his guest needed an extra one, before heading up.

  The door to the guest bedroom was ajar so Felix opened it with a nudge of his foot. He found Hyunjin standing in the middle of the room, vigorously texting on his phone. His long, golden hair hung loose, free from the ponytail he’d had it in before. His plump bottom lip was trapped between his teeth, his eyebrows pulled together in concern. It was the first time Felix really recognized how breath-takingly beautiful the man was in person.

  When he noticed light spilling into the room from the hall, Hyunjin looked up from his phone, startled as though Felix had caught him doing something he shouldn’t have been. Frowning, he paused in the doorway,

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Y-yeah. Sorry, you just surprised me.” Hyunjin spoke as if finding his breath again, his ears turning pink again like they had been at dinner.

  “Um… Is there anything you need? Like another blanket or something?” Felix shuffled his feet awkwardly. The star-struck butterflies were back in full-force and he was sure he looked just as embarrassed as Hyunjin himself did.

  “No thank you, I’m alright.” An awkward pause, “Hey… is that offer to help at the bakery still open?” 

  Felix’s heart flipped up into his throat,

  “Yeah of course! You… you changed your mind?”

  “I don’t think I’ll be seeing much of the town.” He stepped back and pointed to the small window. Half an inch of snow already clung to the outer windowsill while large, heavy flakes sparkling in the lights lining the house dove through the air. The storm that had been threatening the sky all day finally arrived. 

  “Oh that’s alright,” Felix grinned at the sight, excitement mingling with his nervousness making him bounce on his toes, “We’ll have a white christmas at least! You’re welcome to join me and Chan any time.”

  “Thank you.” Hyunjin bowed slightly, still being awkward, “Um… good night.”

  “Good night, Hyunjin.” Before he could see his reaction, Felix stepped back and shut the door. His heart raced and he had to take a moment to catch his breath.

  

“It’s going to be a long three days…”