#Look at who raised him - hint it's your crazy uncles
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Elrond: Don't worry I have a few knives up my sleeves.
Celebrimbor: I think you meant cards.
Elrond: No, I said what I meant. *Pulls knives from his sleeves.*
#Celebrimbor you shouldn't be surprised#Look at who raised him - hint it's your crazy uncles#lotr#lord of the rings#incorrect lord of the rings quotes#silmarillion#incorrect silmarillion quotes#incorrect quotes#elrond#lotr elrond#elrond peredhel#celebrimbor#tyelperinquar
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Inexorable Love
Word Count: 1,139
Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem! reader
After digging in his drawer for a couple of minutes Eddie finally found what he was looking for. A little case that had one piece of jewelry in it. He couldn’t stop smiling as he held it up to look at the beautiful piece.
“You really want to do that son?”
Eddie’s smile dialed down a bit at his uncle’s tone but his smile was still permanently on his face. He looked down at his grandmother’s ring proudly. She had gifted it to him before she passed and he promised he’d give it to the woman who had every inch of his heart as she had.
He didn’t have a lot of people in his life but the ones who were, he cherished. Even those little rascals in the Hellfire Club. He loved his group of freaks. Then there was you.
Someone he considered out of his league but talked to him anyways. He didn’t believe he had a stutter before but that seemed to change whenever he talked to you.
He never thought that he’d ever land a babe like you ever but he did. If someone had told him he’d be with you for four years he would’ve told them they were crazy. Now here he was with his grandmother’s ring in his hand planning to propose to the most perfect person in his eyes.
This was going to be his year.
He was finally going to graduate and ask the woman he loved to marry him. He felt as if he was on top of the world.
“I’ve never been so sure about anything else in my life.” He responded back to his uncle whom he can still feel staring at him. He saw his uncle Wayne shake his head in his peripheral so he turned his head to look at him. “I know what I’m doing uncle. You don’t worry about me anymore.”
His uncle fiddled with his hands, sighing heavily.
“I’m always worried about you, Eddie.”
It was true, his uncle deeply cared about his nephew. Eddie was kind-hearted despite what people saw on the outside and like any other guardian, he wanted to protect him.
“Don’t be.”
“I just wanna make sure you’re making the right choice with this girl. She seems sweet but she comes from money.”
Eddie licked his bottom lip trying not to let his uncle’s words dissolve his happiness. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly how it sounds. I once dated a girl who came from money and as soon as things were gettin serious she dumped me for the next pretty boy in line. More suitable shall I say, to her status.”
His uncle tried to break it to him delicately but Eddie was taking offense to his words.
“She loves me and I love her,” Eddie spoke confidently, now clutching onto the ring.
“Sometimes it ain’t about love. It’s about how people see you. Does she ever bring you around her parents or her friends? Do you two go anywhere else besides here?”
Eddie swallowed thickly. “She’s not ashamed to be with me if that’s what you’re hinting at. Yeah, her parents may not have approved at first but they’re happy with the way I’ve treated her. How else do you think I was able to get my baby.” he spoke referencing to his most treasured guitar.
His uncle Wayne raised his hands. “I’m not trying to argue with you. I just want you to think about this for a moment. Your both still in high school and you’ve got no job. How are you going to get married under these circumstances? She’s the first and only girl you’ve ever brought home.”
“The first, the only, the last. There’ll be no one else. I’ve got something lined up and she has a summer job.”
Eddie was steal dealing on the side but he promised himself he’d stop and get a real job when you two marry. If he had to conform to society then so be it.
“What about that crush you had on that girl, uhm-Chrissy was it?”
Eddie raised his brows and scoffed out a laugh. “My crush in middle school? What about it?” He asked trying to understand his uncle’s point.
“All I’m sayin is that what if you’re rushing into things? You find yourself another girl but you’re already married. What if you and her grow apart? We’re men Eddie. We have urges and what we like now may not be of interest to us down the line.”
Eddie fiddled with the rings on his fingers. He squinted down at each one thinking real hard about how to find the words to express how he was feeling without getting upset.
“Uncle, I’m going to be straight with you, I’ve seriously thought about this in depth. I know you’ve never been in a healthy relationship before so you’re advice is not needed.” He looked up to look into his uncle’s eyes. “I’m sorry but it’s not. I’m going to marry her. I will love and cherish her for the rest of my life for as long as she’ll let me. I want us to change and grow because I know that through those changes we’ll be better, together.”
His uncle nodded his head now understanding that he wasn’t going to change his nephew’s mind. He didn’t want to stop Eddie but wanted him to be sure of his choices. He, himself wasn’t a father but raising Eddie had made him protective. Especially since Eddie had always been eccentric. He was more prone to insults around town and his interest in Dungeons and Dragons was frowned upon and deemed ‘satanic’ to those who had no clue what it was even about.
“Well then. It seems you’ve made up your mind.” His uncle stood up and walked towards Eddie and held out his hand to him. “I wish you and your woman the very best. I’ll always be here for you Eddie for whatever you need whenever you need it.”
Eddie stared at his uncle’s outstretched hand and pushed it away. His uncle took a step back, hurt at the notion but he didn’t see the emotion on Eddie’s face. Eddie’s eyes watered. He launched himself off of the couch and wrapped his arms around his uncle in a tight hug.
His uncle didn’t hesitate to reciprocate. He was proud of Eddie and the man he’s become. He didn’t seem to let anything deter him from the people and things he loves. That was his greatest attribute.
Eddie didn’t grow up with the best home life but his uncle tried his best to make amends for it. His uncle was his first believer while you were the second. He was beyond overwhelmed and ecstatic to have two wonderful people in his life that loved him unconditionally.
#Eddie Munson#Eddie Munson x reader#Eddie Munson x reader insert#Eddie Munson imagine#Eddie Munson drabble#Eddie Munson Stranger Things#Stranger Things#Eddie Munson fanfiction
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It's missing Rick hours, so why not talk about Rick and (Y/N) (crazy) family fluff!
warnings: fluff & humour!
a/n: Dysfunctional but lovable family fluff >>> Hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I had fun thinking about it! Don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ
check out my j. kinnaman m.list for more Rick content!
Do you guys remember the Dee Dee twins from Batman Beyond? I know they're supposed to be Harley's granddaughters but imagine if this takes place post-TSS events, and yes, Rick lives, okay?
He's always been—mf engaged to (Y/N) the second he woke up from unconsciousness and has lived together in a quiet lil' neighbourhood since.
But anyways!
I can't stop thinking about them being Harley's goddaughters or protégés instead, and one day, she begs you and Rick to take care of them for the week while away for a once in a lifetime gig.
“You listen to your aunt (Y/N) and uncle Rick while I’m gone!” She’d say, though, she should’ve known better than to think her own carbon copies, of all people, would listen.
I can just imagine you and the girls being joined at the hip, telling them stories from your days as a criminal, even if you’ve left that life behind. Rick’s the ‘grumpy uncle’ they love to annoy. But! They may be opposites, but the second someone talks bad about you?
Rick will see red, no doubt, but if he hears the girls discuss on how to get rid of the loud-mouthing pos, he wouldn't encourage it. But he sure as hell won’t stop them either—these are Harley girls we’re talking about; it’s not like they listen to him all the time. And, well, if they proceeded with whatever they had in mind, well, the bastard deserved it, didn’t he? Nobody really liked Mr Walker anyway.
What they'd do throughout the week their beloved aunt (Y/N) and uncle Rick, a headcanon:
Switching conversation topics when they're bored at the flower shop you work at. One second, it would be about the flowers, which, let's be honest, they're barely listening to, only to excitedly ask about what crimes you've done were the most memorable ones. Without the presence of customers, of course.
Pranking or scaring away any women who visits Rick's workplace solely for the purpose of gawking or flirting with the man, despite knowing he's married. A simple hiss or a quick display of the baseball bat they had with them ("We like playing baseball, don't we, Dee Dee?" "Yes, we do, Dee Dee!) and the visitor's out of the door!
Not once have you nor Rick seen these two play baseball.
They just really love their aunt (Y/N) and uncle Rick, okay!
BONUS: If you also have to babysit Bruce the hyena, the twins would sneak him out of the house at 3 AM, purposefully messing with Mr Walker's front yard and making sure he sees it. He didn't see the girls, however, so, when he tells his neighbours about a hyena on the loose, most of them just he was the one with the loose screws.
I initially thought Rick would work as a lumberjack, but, imagine if he was the sheriff of the neighbourhood?? Mr Walker calls him to complain about the hyena problem, obviously unaware of the culprits silently snickering at one another as they watch him desperately demand for 'justice'.
"Mr Walker, I personally don't think it's possible for a hyena to cross the city undetected for the sole purpose of terrorising just your garden," Rick responded calmly, though, he was unable to bite back the condescending hint in his words, "But, we'll look into it."
Once Walker's out, looking more stressed now that even the sheriff himself was looking at him funny, Rick would glance at the twins, raising a questioning brow at their futile attempts to look innocent before returning to his report.
"Good job." He'd say nonchalantly, and rather than looking peeved or disappointed, they spotted the small smile on his face. He didn't bother turning when they high-fived.
But other than the fact that he's been cockblocked since their arrival, and honest to God, it's been driving him nuts, they've made your and his days much livelier than the usual.
I can see it now; you're all watching TV, Rick holding you against him with one arm around you while he leisurely pets Bruce's mane with the other. Similar to the beloved house hyena, the twins sat on the floor in front of you, listening to them cheer for the antagonist and argue about what's for breakfast tomorrow.
Yes, the Flag's were quite the household, it seems.
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#— reve's reverie 🌹#is this idea in my drafts#maybe#missing rick hours#rick flag#rick flag x reader#rick flag x female reader#rick flag x you#colonel rick flag x reader#rick flag fluff#tss 2021#harley quinn#dee dee twins#delia dennis#deirdre dennis#dc#dc x reader
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Before A Fall [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch 4 (Hard Feelings Part 2)
SUMMARY: As your life begins to grow around Five's, his attitude becomes a little sinister. When does protection become suffocation and when does taking matters into your own hands become betrayal? (weekly updates)
Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve
Five is buzzing at the hint of a mystery, but your feelings are becoming more complex.
Smut below. Proceed at your own risk
Chapter 4: Socialist Sesame Street
The other adults have mixed responses to Five upon seeing him again, leaning against one of the many LEDs screens, eyes scouring the ingredients on the back of a can of JUICED. Some tsk in disapproval, most ignore him but the odd person tries to talk, worriedly. These he shuts down; politely but firmly. One man approaches him with aggressive swagger, presumably the same man who had objected to his interruption back in the auditorium.
“Hey, son.”
He’d hoped the diminutive terms of address would be gone by now. Apparently not. He looks up at the man. He’s solidly built with a cap pulled down tightly on his bald head.
“You made a real ass of yourself in there.”
Five returns his eyes to the ingredients list, one hand falling naturally into his pocket, “I wasn’t craving your opinion on my behavior but thanks for the feedback I guess.”
The man bristles, “You got a kid in second grade? Got a girl pregnant when you were a freshman or something?”
“I’m in loco-parentis."
"What?"
Five sighs, "I'm Santiago Pitts-Hargreeves' uncle. I'm in charge while his parents are away. Now, can I help you?”
“I’m just telling you." he gestures to the can in Five's hand, "My Sean drinks it every day and he ain’t got cancer. You one of them conspiracy nuts?”
“Depends on the conspiracy.”
This answer clearly doesn’t put this Dad's mind at rest.
“Listen, you’re crazy bastards, you’re scared of everything. First the soda gives kids cancer, then they faked the moon landing-"
Five speaks as if to finish his list, “-then there’s widespread pedophilia cover-ups in the catholic church. Not everything that sounds crazy is false.”
The guy reverts tactic:
“Like I say, JUICED is all my kid drinks. Nags and nags until he gets it. If it caused cancer, he’d for sure have it.”
“Well,” says Five, inclining his head and raising his eyebrows with a hint of sardonicism, “then I'd suggest you get him tested. Just in case.”
You and Santi watched and enjoyed the latest Pixar offering and he laughed at you when you’d left the theater with tears in your eyes. You’d decided to spoil him tonight; this kid was having the toughest of tough times. After the email Five mentioned to you, at least half of you is convinced that you’ll arrive home tonight to learn that Alyssa has died.
Partly due to this preoccupation, you’d allowed Santi to spend an inordinate amount of money on movie-theater candy and he's still riding the sugar high.
He sits, swinging his legs at your McDonald’s table and chatters happily about how fries taste a jillion times better if you dip them in ketchup and then barbeque sauce but not the other way around. You, of course, try it both ways and pretend to taste a difference in the result.
“Wow you got a real sense of flavor. You think you’re going to be a chef?”
“Nah. I got to use my power. I can save the bees and maybe one day pandas and tigers and everything.”
“Cool” you say. While you have your doubts about the long-term genetic stability of duplicated creatures, you run with it anyway, “I bet you will."
You pause a second, your mind flashing back to his conversation with Five. Is there an opportunity to be a different voice?
“That’s a really kind thing to do for the animals. How else might you save them?”
He looks a little confused.
“I’m asking because when there aren’t enough animals it’s usually because of something people have done accidentally or on purpose. You can duplicate animals, but if people have built on their homes, then where will they live?”
“I get Uncle Luther to knock down all the buildings!”
“I don’t think Uncle Luther would do that,” you laugh, “he’s too nice. What about the poor people in the buildings? Where will they live? It’s not their fault.”
“But the animals?”
“I know Santi. I think we need to stop the builders building there in the first place…but maybe the builders only built there because people needed to live somewhere.”
“Maybe the people go someplace else?”
“Mm-hm. But what if they don’t have enough money to go live somewhere else?”
“We give them money…or we give them houses. We got lotsa rooms at home.” He chomps his hamburger.
“That’s a nice idea,” you look at him, thoughtfully, “but isn’t it crazy how animals not having enough places to live can be sorta linked to some people not having enough money?”
“Yeah,” he chews thoughtfully. He looks troubled by this, so you lighten up this cursory glimpse down socialist Sesame Street.
“Don’t worry about it now. There are lots of kind people who work together to make sure everyone has a home. People and animals. Maybe one day you could join in?”
“Yeah!”
He's smiling in that way that reminds you of Lila- chubby cheeks pouting outwards.
“I think you’d fit right in. You’re kind too. And if a lot of people are kind together and care an awful lot, they can fix stuff.”
“Like the Lorax?”
“Yeah, kinda. Do you want an ice-cream?”
In the semi darkness on the Academy steps, you sit down and gesture for him to sit next to you. He does and you take both of his small hands in yours.
“Santi- before we go in, how are you feeling?”
“Happy,” he smiles.
“Yeah? I’m glad to hear that. How are you doing with the mean people at school?”
“They mostly been off school so it’s better.”
Well…it works on a temporary basis, you suppose.
“Who have you played with at recess?”
“The bugs,” he grins, “I made four HUGE spiders today.”
You shudder, “Oh no- that sounds like my worst nightmare!”
He laughs, an infant-like squeak creeping into his voice. When all is said and done, he’s still just a baby.
"It's ok, I make them disappear too, you know."
You smile, “Tomorrow, can you do something for me?”
“What?”
“At recess, if you see someone who looks lonely, can you see if they want to play?”
He pulls a face but doesn’t really respond.
“That would be a kind thing to do,” you prompt.
He hesitates, “I’ll try.”
“Perfect!” you raise your arms in exaggerated joy.
“But what if they say go away?”
“Then you’ll have been kind anyway and I’ll be proud of you. Maybe they're feeling sad. And...some people are mean, but that's their problem; it's nothing to do with you really.”
You hold out your arms to him and give him a tight hug. You feel a sudden rush of affection. You've been in this little boy's life for a significant portion of it. It's a responsibility you don't take lightly.
He yawns.
“Come on, sweetie,” you say, “it’s late. Let’s get you to bed.”
Almost as soon as you step into the entrance hall, Five blinks into existence in front of you with the familiar ffssht and flash of light. He drops to his haunches and grips both of Santi’s upper arms in his:
“Santi! DON’T drink the soda.”
“Wh-what?"
"Five?"
“JUICED. Santi: never drink it again. You gotta promise me!”
“O-ok.”
“Promise?”
“Promise!”
“You’re scaring him.”
You put your hand on Santi’s shoulder and steer him out of Five’s grip.
“What’s happened?”
“I think it’s poison.”
With Santi calmed and sound asleep, you’re sitting on the bed while Five stands, his arms folded and toe tapping.
"You can’t tell Diego and Lila until you’re sure.”
“Yes. I’d come to that conclusion.”
“But what made you think-?”
“Can you be quiet a moment? I have to think."
You stare, hurt.
He blinks across the room, pulls an ancient typewriter out of the bottom of your wardrobe and slams it on the table. He looks around madly, opening draws and ducking his head under the desk. You cross to the bookcase and extract a sheet of paper from the ream stored there.
He takes it wordlessly, threads it onto the roller and types smartly. You move as if to read it over his shoulder but he waves you away gruffly. You step back, perplexed.
He stands quickly, tears the paper from the machine and rolls it into a tight cylinder.
With that, he blinks away.
In his Dad’s old office, he crosses to the fireplace, glancing disdainfully up at the painting on the wall, (What sort of pathological narcissist has an oil-painting of himself behind his own desk?). The green-tiled surround is flanked by two carved volute pillars, ostentatiously holding up the equally ostentatious mantelpiece.
Beside the right-hand pillar on the swell of the chimney breast is a hidden compartment that opens only for his hand. Inside is a tube-shaped capsule and a pipeline disappearing upwards- it's a founder's privilege. He stuffs his note into the tube, the tube into the pneumatic pipeline and slams the lid shut.
He backs up, the back of his legs coming into contact with Reginald’s desk. He sits there silently, listening to a fly buzz somewhere in the room. His leg shakes restlessly for a moment until he can’t stand it anymore. He’s up and over at the glass-doored cabinet to his right. He pulls out the decanter, two glasses and pours a generous amount into each. Then, he takes up the slightly larger of the two and sips.
The fly stops buzzing. The air’s thicker. It’s a state Five remembers well. Time has been paused.
“Hello Number Five,” comes Herb’s friendly voice, “long time no speak.”
“I was kinda hoping to finally knock my time with the Commission on the head... yet here I am.”
Five turns and sits behind the desk. With a gesture, he offers Herb the seat on the other side.
“Bourbon?”
Herb accepts, taking his seat and placing his briefcase under the table. Five passes the other glass over the desk.
“How’s Dot?”
“Well, thank you,” Herb smiles, “and your lady?”
A slight shadow passes Five’s face, which Herb doesn’t miss.
“She's well.”
Wisely, Herb decides not to pursue this line of enquiry. Instead, he gets down to business.
“Now, how can I help you today?”
“It's small fry from your perspective but I got some suspicions, Herb."
He leans back in his father's chair and crosses one leg over the other before continuing.
"Holbrook Elementary school in the city. Four kids in one class have developed cancer and it’s too unlikely to be a coincidence. There’s no atmospheric reason that I could place and yet they’ve got this corporate sponsorship with the soda company JUICED....and the stuff is all over the school.
Herb nods, smilingly, “You trying on the old superhero cape again?”
“It’s my nephew’s school Herb.”
“Ah.” Herb takes another sip of whiskey.
“Now, I’m hoping you’ll be able to run some numbers and help me out here. Give me something to go on.”
Herb looks pained, “Er- you know that I can’t-”
“Yes, I know you can’t just tell me the answer but can you at least indicate the path to finding the answer, or maybe tell me if I’m way off base.”
Herb considers.
“Give me,” he checks his watch, “until tomorrow on my end but I can make it five minutes for you.”
“Thank you.”
With a nod, Herb picks up the briefcase and vanishes.
The fly resumes its buzzing, the air clears. Five massages the pressure points at the bridge of his nose in an effort to clear the slight build up in his sinuses that always results from the pausing and unpausing of time. He finishes his drink and pours another, containing one restless leg’s desire to shake with difficulty. He checks his watch.
The fly appears before his face, he lifts a hand to waft it away just as it freezes in mid air. Herb, wearing a different shirt and tie, is again before the desk, holding a thick file.
“Hello.”
“Thanks again Herb.”
Five plucks the static fly from mid-air and positions it out of his eyeline before continuing.
“What have you got for me?”
“It’s as I thought. I can’t give you much because you’re integral to working it out.”
“Ah shit.” Five leans back into Reginald’s old desk chair, “you mean, the old fashioned way? Like, chemistry?”
“Afraid so.”
He sighs, “So I’m reading up on chromatography?”
Herb gives him a little shrug and jerk of the head as he takes a sip of his whiskey, his face seems to say: Maybe, but I can’t tell you.
“Is there anything, anything at all you can say?”
“I can put your mind at ease: Santiago does not have cancer.”
Five lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
Five seems too wired to sleep. He has the bit between his teeth and can’t let go. He told you that Santi’s fine but nothing else. It’s like trying to sleep next to a coiled spring. You turn over to face him.
“You don’t seem tired.”
“I need a good night’s sleep. I just can’t switch off.”
“Want me to help?”
"It's not really your area."
It’s not really a dismissal, just a statement.
"Maybe I didn't mean like that."
His eyes dart towards you. He thinks he knows what you’re getting at, but after skating on thin ice over the last week, he doesn’t want to assume.
“I’d be…grateful.”
For your part, you’ve been noticing him this evening. His eyes look bright, hard, intense. All his mannerisms became more pronounced as his inhibitions were swept away in the greater current of his roiling mind. His hands were shoved so deeply in his pockets that you were sure they’d rip. His characteristic forward lean had been so pronounced it was almost a bow.
He attracts you more than you’d wish considering his attitude right now, but now you’re willing to forget everything, even his caginess, just to be able to pleasure him. You don't want to think too hard about the implications of this.
Pushing down your conflicting feelings, you kiss his neck softly, burying your nose in his lower hairline and breathing in his smell. It makes your stomach flip; familiar, but intoxicating. You creep your mouth up to his ear and blow softly into the shell. When he still seems distracted, you glide the back of an idle hand down his naked chest and over his stomach as you run your tongue along his helix. This always makes him shiver and today is no different.
Having captured his full attention, you return your mouth to his neck and raise your hand to his nipples. He sighs, vocalizing a small moan as you stimulate the sensitive buds- rubbing first one and then the other to hardness. You switch your mouth’s focus, tongue coming instead to rhythmically flick each nipple with its tip while your hand caresses his neck.
His breathing becomes more expressive as your hand comes down beneath the sheets and beneath the sweatpants he sometimes likes to sleep in. He lifts his hips and pulls them down for you as you give his rapidly hardening length a gentle stroke, redoubling your efforts on his chest to get him there faster.
When he’s fully hard, you pump him softly, occasionally stopping to just stroke the head between your thumb and other fingers in the way that he likes, spreading the leaked precome over his swollen glans. When his little sounds of enjoyment become needy, you speed up. With a little hiss, he thrusts upwards, the muscles in his lower body flexing invitingly into greater prominence.
Before you can get him there, you know you want to taste him. You burrow under the sheets and take the head into your mouth, teasing the rim of his glans with the warm-wet pressure of your lips. He lets out a moaning sigh. You don’t intend to draw this out, but you can’t resist inching your mouth slowly down his length, making sure he can feel every moment before you take him to completion.
He throws the sheets back to look down at you with his whole dick in your mouth. You look up at him with the eyes that had first attracted him; their doe-like innocence in stark contrast with the situation
"Haaah…” he whispers, “make me come, you little cocksucker."
His hands come to the sides of your head, fingers as usual tangling in your hair.
Now you bob your head, focusing the flat of your tongue on stimulating the head while he’s inside you. You look up at him again; his eyes are half-lidded and mouth agape. Your mouth is making sloppy, wet sucking noises as you go down on him, your saliva leaking down his shaft. You can tell the sound and sight is turning him on just as much as the feeling.
"Fuuucck. You look so good down there. So good. You gonna swallow what I have for you?"
You want to swallow it. You don't care about anything else- not his disregard, not his dismissal, nothing. His moans become grunts and his hips rise off the bed. You add a hand into the mix, stroking the shaft in time with your mouth, now concentrated on the head. As your eyes meet his again, his hips jerk spasmodically and his grunts become a sustained roar. You keep it up as you feel him douse your waiting tongue with his milky-sweet seed.
The taste of him makes your nipples harden. You slow down slightly, knowing that his most intense orgasms become too much if you attempt to go hard with direct stimulation. With his voice subsiding into gasps, you milk and swallow all the come you can from him, greedy for it.
“Ah…stop”
You remove your mouth and give him one final, long stroke, just to make sure you got it all. You lick the last little bead from his opening- not willing to waste the tiniest drop. He sighs contentedly.
Is there a hint of smugness in his look, or is it your imagination?
"Mm. Thank you, dear one." he mumbles, rolling onto his side and enfolding you in his arms. As he strokes and kisses you, you come down from the high and stare into space. He rubs your hip.
"Can I...do you?"
"It's fine." you murmur.
"If you're sure?"
He sounds surprised, but only slightly.
In response to your confirmatory nod, he kisses you with lithe-lipped tenderness, stroking your cheek with light, loving fingers. He breaks the kiss slowly, looking at you with adoring eyes. Then he holds you to him again and relaxes into his post-orgasm euphoria, eyes closing.
"I love you so much." he whispers, sleep beginning to overtake him.
"I love you too."
He doesn't notice the slightly bewildered tone to your voice. What happened to your self-respect?
Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh,@nevbrooke-555
Masterpost
Alternatively, join me on AO3. Here is a link to the whole series
#the umbrella academy smut#the umbrella academy five#the umbrella academy imagine#the umbrella academy#umbrella academy x reader#umbrella academy#umbrella academy smut#umbrella academy number five#umbrella academy five x you#umbrella academy five x reader#five hargreeves x reader#five hargreeves x you#number five imagine#five hargreeves smut#five hargreeves imagine#number five smut#number 5 imagine#number 5#fanfic#ao3 writer#read on ao3#tua fanfic#umbrella academy fanfic#five hargreaves x you#five hargreaves x reader#number 5 x reader#number 5 x you#Hard feelings#Before a fall
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ahh, i hope i‘m not too late for the Angst prompts…i never see these posts on time! plus: i‘m not good at making decisions so i go for 3. OR 9. with Pope please!!
You're not too late! Thanks for the prompt!
Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader
Rating: T
Word count: 750
“Gunna be real honest with you, Pope, when you invited me to a soccer game today, I did not picture this…”
The community park soccer field is occupied with confused children in the 4 to 5 age range, all decked out in mini regulation accoutrement, little matching uniforms with numbers, shinguards that serve little purpose for the low impact environment, and the tiniest cleats you’ve ever seen. It’s cute, for sure, but once could hardly call the distracted, clumsy, ball kicking with time outs occurring every 30 seconds, a “sport”.
Pope chuckles and offers you his bag of sunflower seeds. “Well what’d you expect? Lyla is only 5.”
“For some reason I thought she was older? Or maybe I was thinking of your other niece, the one in middle school.”
“Lydia?”
“Yeah! Thought this would be a high school match or something. Don’t get me wrong. This is adorable. Just not what I was picturing.”
“Lydia doesn’t do sports. She does play in her school’s jazz band though.”
“Looks like Lyla isn’t interested in sports either. Isn’t that her? Number 22? Sitting down and picking a dandelion?”
Santiago squints his eyes under his navy blue ball cap, “What? Oh jeez.” Santi sets the bag of seeds down on the bleacher seat and stands up, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouts at the little players. “Lyla! Sweetie! Put down the thing and go for the ball! Kick the ball!”
Lyla turns around and pushes her tangled hair out of her eyes, she stands up and waves at him, dandelion in hand, “Hi uncle Santi!”
The surrounding parents on the bleachers are giving ‘uncle Santi’ annoyed looks and shaking their heads. He shoos her with his hand to go in the direction of the action at the middle of the field. She obeys and runs as fast as her little legs can carry her to join her teammates.
“Sit down! I think you’re going to get us kicked out.” You laugh, grabbing his bag of seeds to clear his space on the bench.
He pulls his jeans at the thighs before sitting back down. He leans forward more now, properly chastising himself for paying more attention to you than to Lyla who he’s supposed to be babysitting.
“You ever think about having your own?”
“My own what?” Santi mumbles distractedly, physically restraining himself from shouting at Lyla that she’s got a clear shot at the goal and to “go for it!”
“Your very own soccer field.”
Santi cocks his head and glances confused at you from the corner of his eye. “What?”
You roll your eyes, “Your own kids, genius.”
Santi shakes his head and spits a sunflower shell on the metal floor of the bleachers. “No way. Not in the cards.”
“It’s not that crazy of a question, Pope. You’re really good with your nieces.”
Santiago nods, accepting the compliment. He tries to be a net positive in their lives. He makes every effort to be involved when he’s asked to be. Truthfully nothing makes him happier than being ‘Uncle Santi’, but that’s all it’s ever going to be. He can’t raise a family. Not with his job, not with his PTSD, not with his bad knees, not with his nightmares that break through to real life and leave him screaming and sweating in the middle of the night. He’s reliable and fun with the kids, he’s appropriately harsh when he needs to be, but he knows he can’t be a full fledged father. He’d never be able to live with the future disappointment any offspring are sure to have in him.
“Don’t give me that look.” You’re not sure what look he’s talking about, he can’t even see your face with his eyes trained on the field. “I’m not having any for the same reasons you aren’t having any.”
“The insane biochemical urge to change identities at the hint of commitment?”
Santiago’s smile reaches his eyes. “Exactly. You know as well as I do, happy endings don’t happen for people like us.”
Before you can retort, Santiago leaps to his feet again and shouts “Go, go, go, go, go! Yes!” Lyla scored a goal. And in the right net, too. You clap and cheer with the rest of the crowd. “That’s my girl!” Santi shouts, wolf whistling to the annoyance of the surrounding parents and guardians.
He might not get a happy ending, especially if he doesn’t think he deserves one. But he’s got a pretty happy middle.
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Chapter 2: Mythic Level Test, Mission Impossible
The light screen projection has been over for a long time, but everyone on the mountain has not yet come back to their senses, all look dumbfounded.
Ye Che slowly exhaled a breath, many years has been little ripples in the eyes, revealing a hint of longing.
"So it seems that there is nothing wrong with seven hundred years later, anyway, in that era ......" Ye Che revealed a smirk.
In vain, an incomparably sweet voice sounded behind Ye Che.
"S, S broad a ...... so powerful! Brother, is this one of your three mythical battles! Simply, simply let people yu immortal yu death!!!"
Ye Che turned back, then saw an incomparably delicate girl, is crooked head looking at a side of the teenager.
This girl has a blue-purple hair, and I do not know what hair dye used, Ye Che can smell a faint lavender fragrance.
She clothes as well as very old, just wear on this girl, but give a sense of beauty of the characters inside the cg.
The girl next to the teenager, incomparably tangled pinch the hair, then two eyes helplessly looking at the girl said: "Blue bag Dai! How many times have I said, do not use idioms indiscriminately! This ...... idiom is not used in this way!!!"
Blue Bag Dai raised her eyebrows, a trace of cunning flashed in her eyes, and then asked with a curious face, "Then brother Lanning, where should this idiom be used?"
"Poof ......"
The next few teenage girls poofed and couldn't help but laugh.
Lan Ning's face instantly turned red with an embarrassed look.
Ye Che also picked his lips slightly, showing a faint smile.
This pair of siblings, looked quite interesting.
"Stop fooling around, if you do it again send you home!" Blue Ning could not stand the odd gazes of the people around, immediately put a face, voice and serious said.
Blue bag Dai eyes rolled, waved his hand: "Cut, less, I still do not know you? Without me you have what use here, play house!
She said, looking around the people more and more strange eyes, blue bag Dai eyes more and more bright. It was as if teasing her brother was the happiest thing in the world.
Such a thing, she should not have done little before.
Next to the blue Ning took a look at her expression, I knew something bad, this thing is probably not over.
Sure enough, Blue Bag Dai immediately continued to ask with a crooked face of confusion: "Right brother, you still haven't answered me that word in the end how to use, how the ancient idiom so difficult to understand!"
Lan Ning scratched his hair in distress, looking at the ancestor in front of him helplessly.
"The idiom of yu xian yu death, you need to personally experience, otherwise you will never understand it."
Suddenly, a light voice came.
Just this statement, but the surrounding people are a little despised.
Lan Ning wanted to thank the person who exported to help him, but this person's words were just a little hard to get into his ears.
For a time, he frowned deeply, some unkindly surveyed in front of the presence, the oldest teenager.
If twenty years old, is also considered a teenager.
Blue bag Dai instantly crazy, where this emerged from the prick, do not know that playing with her brother is one of her biggest hobby!
And, actually answered himself with such low words!
"Uncle, do you know that it is a crime for you to denigrate an underage girl like this!" Blue bag Dai willow eyebrows up, drinking.
After drinking she was secretly satisfied in her heart, eh not bad, facial expression ninety points, full of momentum!
Ye Che mentally sighed, is this a bitter-sweet situation for himself?
But keeping a calm and enlightened mood at all times has become his habit.
So Ye Che shrugged his shoulders and said with an innocent expression, "Just suggesting that if you don't know the meaning of this idiom, go to Summoner's Canyon to super ghost a few more times, and the process of your super ghost being abused, short for yu xian yu death."
"You!" Blue Bag Dai blushed, instantly angry clenched his fist.
Ye Che also inexplicably came to interest, continued lightly with: "You you do not know the meaning of this idiom, then how will you understand my first sentence? The truth is only one, you understand, and have had an in-depth understanding of the word, otherwise it will not be one that is transparent. Dear underage, uncle want a sentence, you young people really know how to play ......"
"Poof ......" around listening to the dumbfounded teenage girls, not yet slowed down, Lan Ning in a flash happy mad.
Perennial suffer from sharp-tongued sister abuse, this is the first time to hear others so justified, but also have the strength of the return fire.
The first time I heard such a reasoned and strong retort was from someone else. Ignoring the frenzied Blue Baghdad, Blue Ning happily walked towards Ye Che, punched him on the chest and said with a smile on his face: "Brother, it's good! This sister of mine, in addition to being extremely interested in League of Legends, is also very enthusiastic about ancient culture. So that a mouth, find the opportunity to make me suffer, today for the first time to see her defeated, really you!"
Ye Che smiled faintly and did not open his mouth.
Lan Ning also did not care, only after surveying Ye Che's surroundings, he asked suspiciously, "Brother, do you not have a team?"
"No, the reason seems to be that they all think I'm old." Ye Che let out an embarrassed sigh.
After this moment, Blue Bag Dai also slowed down to pull, immediately coldly snorted and looked at Ye Che with a disgusted face.
"What's the use of having a powerful mouth, not being able to advance to a new human, waiting to muddle through life!" She sneered.
"Hahahaha, brother do not care ah, my sister is this temper, in fact, people are still very gentle. In the abandoned land ah, that matchmaking people, are about to step through the threshold."
Lan Ning smiled, and even walked closer to Ye Che some.
"Humph, brother, do not think that you play attention I do not know! Isn't it just to make friends with this sharp-tongued guy! To think that you can escape my playfulness like this is so naive!"
The blue bag Dai on the side, while voice muttering chattering myriad of caryatids which flog fat pole II.
Just her face is a little embarrassed red, obviously stimulated by Lan Ning burst out ** to.
"Brother Ye, you are older than me, I'll call you Brother Ye from now on. If you really can't find a team, come to our team, you can be a peripheral member, that way your future life will be guaranteed at the very least."
Not blue bag Dai in the back thinking about how to sharp counterattack, blue Ning has already come to know himself and Ye Che hot, naturally also know Ye Che's name.
Ye Che's heart moved slightly and said, "Outsider member, how?"
Lan Ning was stunned and didn't expect Ye Che to even know this, but didn't think much of it and replied, "Outsider members are the downlines developed by the new humans inside the town, such as when one of their main members jumps ship and someone gets sick and can't make it to the tournament in time, then the outsider members will have a great chance to fill in."
"Oh, that means a replacement. But I guess it's not that simple to substitute, right? Otherwise wouldn't all these ones who couldn't pass go in as substitutes." Ye Che glanced at Lan Ning with deep meaning.
Lan Ning laughed somewhat awkwardly, then said, "First of all, this battle team I belong to has to advance to the new human success, then the peripheral members have must be obliged to recruit three talented players to be qualified to enter the town and get the opportunity to learn once with our battle team up close, then ...... "
"Well, no need." Ye Che interrupted Lan Ning's words.
Without waiting for Lan Ning to speak, Ye Che suddenly asked a very inexplicable question.
"Do you have to be a team to take the new human test? One person, no!?"
"Huh?" Lan Ning was frozen.
How could he not expect Ye Che to ask such an odd question, after all, League of Legends belongs to a group game, a game for ten people, how can you take the test alone!
"Uh, this ......" Lan Ning looked at Ye Che's serious eyes, not like a joke, and couldn't help but hesitate.
"Tsk, brother, ignore this idiot. Also a person test, it's simply that what, the toilet to fight that what ......"
"Hit the lantern." Ye Che added a sentence.
"Right! Playing lanterns in the toilet, looking for (shit) death!" Blue Bag Dai clenched her fist and fiercely gestured at Ye Che.
Blue Ning looked at this brain-deficient sister speechlessly, your words are made up by others, but also flaunted ......
"A person assessment ...... is not impossible ......" to this, Lan Ning wanted to say and then stop.
Ye Che's eyes lit up, he also just casually mentioned, can not think of really.
Just look at this Lan Ning difficult look, a faint smile, said: "Since you are not good, then I ask others to go."
At that moment, Ye Che lifted his leg to leave.
"Hey, don't, I'm not bad, it's just that it's useless to come out. That test is simply non-human, it's simply bug level, it's impossible to complete the task!!!" Lan Ning saw Ye Che was leaving and got anxious.
This whole way, can count on him to hold his sister back, otherwise do not know how many jokes to make.
"Bar." Ye Che turned his head to look at Lan Ning.
Lan Ning took a deep breath and suddenly looked solemn.
"The new human test is divided into simple, easy, average, difficult, epic, hell, and myth!" By this point, a trace of confusion also appeared in Lan Ning's eyes.
"Through the easy team, three of the team can advance to become a new human. And to want the whole team to advance to become a new human, at the very least, they have to pass the general level test. The battle team I belong to, Zero, actually passed the easy last year, and the completion rate of the general test reached over ninety percent."
Ye Che got his head and thought of that Sky Blue battle team, since that Sky Blue battle team is one of the ace battle teams, then it is estimated that they impacted the difficult difficulty assessment.
"It seems that the higher the difficulty level of passing the test, the better the benefits." Ye Che thought and also said in passing.
Lan Ning's eyes lit up, the color of confusion is gone, looking at Ye Che tsk: "Really smart, I also told me this year captain, I only know, just you just then, I reckon this benefit is amazingly big. Otherwise, those ace battle team can not stay so long, prefer to delay so far to pass the difficult test!"
Ye Che head, just the heart can not help but cross a trace of do
There must be a big oddity in this.
Ye Che was pondering, a sudden loud sound interrupted his thoughts.
The canyon across the street once again took an unusual turn.
"Bang ...... Bang Bang Bang ......"
Continuous sound, suddenly, dozens of huge searchlights shot down, a few thousand meters around instantly bright as daylight.
Ye Che looked up, staring at the source of the light eyes did not blink, you can see, that is dozens of silent flying machine.
Each aircraft actually did not have the slightest sound, quietly suspended in mid-air.
And under the light, between the two canyons, I don't know when a huge steel bridge stood in it.
Ye Che's gaze instantly stared, there were people on the steel bridge.
Let me know, if you like it
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Is Sambucky Canon or Not?
TL;DR: Yes, it is
I've seen some people saying that they only see friendship between Sam and Bucky, and I can understand that. Because depending on your education, the environment you grew up and the kind of media you’re usually exposed to, you will have a different interpretation of different situations, in real life or in TV.
Just let me insert a short story before I dive into the Sambucky topic:
My best friend's uncle is in his fifties and has been living with his roommate (a man) for more than 10 years. They lived together, went on holidays together but officially were just roommates. My best friend wondered if they were a couple, but never talked about it to her parents because it wasn't her business.
Two years ago, they decided to come out and get married. My best friend's parents and his parents were genuinely surprised, they were not expecting that, at all, not even a little bit. Let me tell you that it didn’t even cross their mind that it was a possibility, at all.
For them, it had always just been two men who had decided to live together because they were single. And preferred to have a roommate rather than living alone.
What I want to say with this story is that people will see what they want to see, or what they're used to see, or what they were raised to see. It’s human.
What I mean is that you will have different perception of a same event, depending on your own circumstances. And I think the writers of TFATWS were counting on that a little bit when it came to Sam and Bucky’s relationship. They obviously didn't want to make some big announcement or big love declaration.
And yes, of course, I have my own circumstances as well, influencing the way I see things.
I have shipped SamBucky since Civil War, when they were supposedly enemies. I never expected anything to happen between them on screen. But then they got a show together and I was so so happy about it but I didn't expect anything other than friendship between them.
I was perfectly fine with that because a show was already more than enough: my man Sam Wilson was becoming Captain America, the show was great, the characters were great, their interactions were great, and this wasn't a love story anyway but a superhero show. I thought that here was no way the showrunners would ever go there.
I changed my mind after episode 5. I tried to stay objective, but it was clear to me that the writers were hinting at a relationship that went beyond friendship between Sam and Bucky.
In some of my previous posts, I explained that there are some scenes and writing choices that make absolutely no sense if you read them as a scene between two friends. I can link them if anyone’s interested.
Side note: I would like to know if one person on this website can tell me what was up with Bucky's behavior with Torres (in episode 5)? What other explanation is there, if not jealousy? It's a scene they chose to keep, so it was probably written this way, there must be a reason. Please I’m begging someone explain it to me. I'm genuinely asking, because otherwise that scene alone is canon Sambucky.
After episode 5, I was convinced they would make Sambucky canon, one way or the other and I started speculating about the ways they could do it.
What I said was that if they did make Sambucky canon, they would do it in a very subtle way, in order not to make it too obvious because that’s generally how Marvel movies deal with love stories. And also because they wouldn’t want to scare away their homophobic audience ( I guess Disney needs their money...who knows)
So here are the scenes of how I imagined SamBucky becoming canon and the comparison with reality:
1.
- What I thought we could get : AJ and Cass calling Bucky "Uncle Bucky"
- What we got: AJ and Cass running up to Bucky and playing with him.
This point is interesting because it’s also related to the point I made about how the environment you grew up in influences your perception of things. I grew up in a big family and I know that, at least in my family, kids don't run up to an adult like that just because it's their uncle’s friend or just because he's nice... There's a real bond there. They haven't seen Bucky just that one time when he slept on the couch. They're obviously close. But some people might just see this as kids being kids. Also, if you watch at how the kids were fake punching him, they were really coordinated with Bucky. They have done this plenty of times.
2.
What I thought we could see: A non-explicit scene where we were supposed to draw our own conclusions. I thought they could show us Bucky staying over for the night, and the last scene would be an empty couch, meaning we would have to understand that Bucky slept in Sam's room this time.
-What we got: Bucky arriving in Sam's car ( A few people on Tumblr pointed out that it was the car Sam was driving in episode 1)
So here again we have a scene that a lot of people will not notice. But they still chose to put it there.
3.
What I thought could happen: Sam asking Bucky to stay in Delacroix
What we got: Bucky wrapping things up in New York, as if he was leaving the city for good and coming to Sam's party as if he already knew everyone there. You can read my take on this here.
4.
What I thought could happen: The scene in the trailer where we see them looking in the same direction and then we get a shot from very far away where they're holding hands but it’s not so obvious because they are being filmed from a disctance.
-What we got: The scene in trailer and then a blurry shot of Sam holding Bucky and then fondling with his neck to find the best spot to rest his hand on.
So none of the scenes I was imagining happened exactly like I had imagined, but it felt like all of them happened but in a different versions, which is still crazy to me.
If it had been only one scene. I could probably understand the people who see them as just friends. Actually, I still do understand the people who see them as just friends, because everyone has their own interpretation. What I am saying is that they are NOT being portrayed as just friends.
There are TOO many scenes in the 6 episodes for it to be a coincidence. One or 2 would be ok but friendship doesn’t explain everything:
The therapy scene (not the therapy scene itself since it was improvised) but the therapist saying she had heard a lot about Sam and wanting them to do a couples’ therapy
Bucky following Sam no matter what
Sam saying ok as soon as Bucky says "do it for me"
Sam asking "what about Bucky?"
Bucky starting to touch Sam whenever he has the chance
Bucky being the one to bringing the suit for Sam
The boat repairing montage
Bucky wanting to stay at Sam's place, when a hotel room would have been more comfortable than a couch
The second day of boat repair in closed quarters with an intense staring scene.
And there are so many other scenes, soft touches, looks,...
These writing choices are not a coincidence, it’s not involuntary, and it’s not fan service ( Fan service is the roll in the flower field scene, or the therapy session). This is them telling a story.
Let’s not even talk about the scenes in Endgame:
Sam comforting bucky at Tony’s funeral
Sam looking up to Bucky for approval before accepting the shield from Steve.
So yes, Sam and Bucky are canon in the sense that Peter and Gamora were canon in the first movie, or Wanda and Vision were canon in Captain Civil War. Meaning that there was no big moment, kiss or anything, but the show is consistently throwing elements clearly showing Sam and Bucky as a romantic item and hinting at a lot more than friendship between them.
It is normal that some people have a different opinion. Because it is extremely rare, in big productions like this to have two male leads with romantic feelings towards each other, so not a lot people who see it will interpret it as such (I don't think it ever happened). You’ll see what you’re used to seeing.
I guess it also depends on what you expect from a love story. For me, the storyline between the characters, their scenes, their chemistry, the way their feelings towards each other are described, are the most important. The kiss scene is just there as a bonus, but I don't need it when the love story is told perfectly. If you’re used to seeing love stories with many kissing scenes, that’s what you will be expecting to see in most love stories.
If you're only used to seeing male friendships in superhero or action movies. The 1000th time you see men interacting in that type of movie or show, you are more likely to assume it is a friendship and nothing more, no matter how many codes and tropes usually associated with romantic movies, the writers and show makers are using.
Add to that the conviction that Disney would never approve Sambucky in a million years, and there you go, I can understand the people who see only friendship.
But, just think about it, if we had the same show, same scenes, same dialogues, but minus the action scenes and the project was being marketed as an Indie movie, would you think they were just friends or a blossoming couple?
If you read Sambucky’s relationship like a friendship: some scenes don't make sense. If you read it like a developing romantic relationship: it all makes sense.
"When you hear hoofs, think horse, not zebra"
If a writer or a film director chooses a last scene with a romantic setting and the two leads are staring at a sunset, smiling repeatedly at each other and then walking away together with one of them touching the other's neck, with a love song in the background, maybe friendship isn't the first thought they had in mind.
Some people may say “I see them as just friends” and other people may say “ I see them as lovers” and both are fine, because people have different perceptions, and that’s ok.
What I am saying is this post is that the show and the writers are portraying them as more than just friends, they’re portraying them as two characters who are romantically involved.
Perceive what you want but that’s how they are being presented in the show.
Bucky’s therapist said that the exercise she gave them was for couples who want to figure out what kind of life they want to build together. Then, the show ends with Sam and Bucky, staring at a sunset together, looking in the same direction.
“Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction. “ - Antoine de Saint-Exupery
What else do you need???
This show had more romance than half of the Marvel projects out there. Not every love story needs a kiss (for now...)
We'll see in their next projects which direction the writers want to go with this. But since it was said that the writer on the movie is the same as the writer from episode 5, there's no doubt in my mind that we'll keep seeing this dynamic.
I don't think they would have made the same choices if this had been a movie. But I won't complain that we got this.
I hope they keep this going even if it stays subtle like in the show. Just hope they will add one explicit scene where one of the characters acknowledges their relationship. But even if we only ever get this show, it’s already a great love story.
Let me know what you guys think and sorry for the typos and grammar mistakes, I was tired when I wrote the last part. I hope it still makes sense!
If you think they're only being portrayed as friends let me know why! I would also like to know about the way you see this!
#sambucky#sam wilson#bucky barnes#tfatws#the falcon and the winter soldier#tfatws spoilers#Please feel free to comment on this and tell me what you think#I'm genuinely interested in having other POVs
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Enemies-to-lovers!Bang Chan
request: Hey! Can i request and enemies to lovers slow burn with bang chan where they dont like each other but theres undeniable chemistry
genre: enemies-to-lovers!au, workplace/office!au, (fluff, slow burn, lots of denial of feelings lol)
pairing/s: Chan / Reader (ft Seungmin and some ocs!)
word count: 21k rip I got pretty carried away
tw: not any prominent ones that I can think of, kind of hints of the whole misogyny in the workplace kind of thing
a/n: I got super carried away writing this I hope you guys like it haha im currently working on the other requests so do look forward to those!! ill try to put them out as soon as I can~~ all this staying at home is really giving me time to write... ( I HAD TO use this gif I just HAD TO) but yes this was a little hard to find reasons why y/n wld hate chan bc im for the chan is an angel agenda but I ended up having so much fun ok BYE
“Hey, you free to get lunch later?” You’d bumped into your friend who worked in the company’s legal department, Seungmin, on a Thursday morning while you were in the pantry preparing coffee and tidbits for your boss.
You nodded, “uh-huh,” mixing the coffee absently, “what are you doing here?”
Seungmin shrugged, leaning against the counter as he munched on a cookie, “felt like taking a walk. Things have been pretty busy in the legal department lately.”
“Why?”
Seungmin gave you a cheeky smile, shrugging, “can’t say, but you’ll find out soon enough.”
You rolled your eyes, gritting your teeth with feigned menace towards him (his smile stayed unwavering, even sticking his tongue out at you to mock you).
“Who’s that for?” Seungmin gestured to the coffee mugs on the tray.
“Mr Bang’s supposed to be meeting his nephew or something, he made it seem really important but all he told me was that it’s for his nephew,” you shrugged, glancing down at your two cups of coffee, realisation hitting you.
“Shit, that just reminded me. He said his nephew doesn’t drink coffee. Do you want this?” You shot Seungmin a pleading look, holding up your now unneeded cup of coffee.
Seungmin scoffed, taking the mug from you wordlessly, “how exciting your job is, huh,” he deadpanned, sipping the coffee, “wanna reconsider joining the legal department now?”
You rolled your eyes.
“I’m perfectly satisfied with my job now, thank you very much.”
You’d prepared a pot of tea, careful not to spill the water onto the counter as you did so, transferring the pot onto your tray, “and plus, considering the amount of money I get paid for the amount of work I do, I’m more than happy.”
Seungmin scoffed, “should’ve known it was because of the money.”
“Alright, I’ve gotta go, see you later,” you said, picking up your tray as Seungmin waved his hand with cookie crumbs on his fingers, the clicking of your heels growing softer as you walked further away.
Reaching the door of your boss’ office, you’d been able to faintly make out 2 silhouettes through the window from where you stood, composing yourself to make a good impression as you knocked on the door. Hearing your boss grunt, you’d pushed the door open with your shoulder, your gaze focused on the coffee table as you greeted your boss.
Setting the pot of tea on the table, you’d cast a glance at the recipient, your eyes widening when you’d spotted the boy with dyed hair sitting on the plush leather sofa facing your boss, dressed in a clean white button-down and tie, an equally well-ironed pair of pants, his posture relaxed with his legs spread casually.
His gaze was on you, as if analysing your movements, making you direct your gaze back to your task at hand, setting the saucer with the cup of coffee onto the coffee table, placing the small biscuits your boss liked in the middle of the two.
Holding the tray close to your chest, you cast a glance at your boss, about to bow in greeting and head back out when his voice had stopped you.
“Y/N, please, stay here. I’d like to discuss something with you and my nephew.”
Your eyebrows raised, lips pressed tightly together as you nodded, “oh…cool, alright.”
“Please, take a seat,” Mr Bang gestured to the space on the sofa next to his nephew, making you seat yourself awkwardly on the other side of the sofa, your body pressing against the armrest as if trying to create as much distance as you could between him and you.
“So, Chan, this is my secretary, Y/N,” Mr Bang gestured to you, “Y/N, this is my nephew, uh… Chris,” he spoke, the name sounding fairly familiar to you. Chris Bang? You sounded the name over in your head, not being able to connect the dots as to why it was so familiar at this point of time.
“So, sweetheart, because I’ve been planning on resigning for a while now, I thought I should let you know that I’m planning on handing my position over to Chris.”
Maybe this was what Seungmin was so busy with.
You nodded slowly, trying to understand the implications this decision meant for you, “will my contract be terminated, then?”
Chris glanced at you, as if searching your expression. He found you fairly younger than he’d expected, since his uncle had mentioned earlier that you’d already been working for him for quite some time, going onto 2 years already.
Of course, he didn’t want to underestimate you, but knowing the directors’ reputations regarding secretaries, he wasn’t sure if he could put a label on your abilities without seeing them for himself, first. And to him, he wasn’t quite understanding of why his uncle was so insistent that he needed a secretary, his past experiences with secretaries all being quite unimpressive.
“That… is unfortunately up to Chris, but ideally your contract will resume as per normal.”
You glanced back at the boy, who looked at you with an unreadable expression, something about his stare successfully unnerving you, the way he looked at you almost with a certain level of contempt.
“We’ll be having a company dinner tonight to welcome Chris to the team, it would do the both of you well to get acquainted with each other before the board meeting for ceo elections.”
You nodded slowly, still clutching the tray close to your chest as you wondered how old he was, the whole ordeal seeming as though it were something out of a movie: a young apathetic heir getting authority over a large corporation at such a young age. Was he even qualified for this position? The rest of the directors were nowhere near his age, well, appearance wise.
As if having read your mind, your boss spoke, “I’m sure you two will get along just fine, considering you two are so close in age.”
Your eyes narrowed, something in you not feeling comfortable with this arrangement. Dismissing the thought quickly, you shrugged, figuring it would be a change of scenery from being around the old directors all the time.
You watched as Chris shrugged.
“We’ll see.”
===
“Who?” Seungmin dabbed at his lips with his towel, picking up his glass of water to take a sip, making you frown, still trying to do your research on Chris Bang as far as your browser app would take you.
“Chris Bang. He’s gonna take over the company from President Bang.”
Your words seemed to have elicited a giggle from Seungmin, “doesn’t that make them both ‘President Bang’?”
Seungmin ignored your eye roll, continuing, “this was what I was referring to just now, you know. I thought you would’ve known who he was by now,” he told you, making you set your phone down on the table, open on his LinkedIn page that frankly wasn’t giving you much other than stating how very qualified he was for the job.
“You know, Bang Chan? Ring a bell? That guy that’s been switching departments for God-knows-how-long since last year. The one that got all of us donuts one time,” Seungmin gave you a ‘duh’ look, considerably unamused.
“Oh,” only then were you realising just who that was. You knew exactly who he was. You’d heard many rumours from the other secretaries on how he was impossibly good at anything he’d set his mind to, his work ethic and standard incomparable to anyone else in the company they’d ever seen.
Which was why all that switching departments start to make sense to you, since it could’ve been his way of making sure he learnt the ins-and-outs of every department by the time he took over. If that wasn’t just more evidence that he was definitely a crazy workaholic.
At the time, you’d made a passing comment on how you hoped you would never have to be his subordinate, after having heard stories on how intimidating he was whenever it came to work (especially work that was improperly done). Little did you know that your comment would come back to bite you in the ass so soon.
“Yeah, ‘oh,” Seungmin mimicked you, taking another bite out of his burger, “why d’you seem so…,” Seungmin made a pained groaning sound as he gestured to you for lack of a better word, “about it, anyway? Shouldn’t you be happy? He’s super nice!”
You scrunched your nose up, locking your phone in your dismay, not wanting to see his face on his stupid profile mocking you with all his stupid qualifications anyway.
“I don’t know, just kind of feels a little sudden. And I hate the feeling of not knowing if I’m gonna be fired since it’s not up to Mr Bang anymore.”
“Which one?” Seungmin joked, making you scoff, finding it just a little funny. Only a little.
Seungmin continued, “you’re just mad because him taking over means you actually have to do work.”
You shot him a glare, your silence being an acknowledgement that he wasn’t entirely wrong.
“And because I love Mr Bang! He was such a nice old man that checked in on me and gave me life advice. I’m not gonna get any life advice from someone that’s basically my age.”
Seungmin huffed in amusement, bringing his hand up to cup his mouth as if to divulge a secret, dropping his voice to a strained whisper, “transfer to the legal department.”
You sighed, “no, I still love my pay.”
“Then stop sulking! Chris is the nicest guy I’ve met, you’ll be fine. Just show up to the company dinner tonight and fluff him up a bit,” Seungmin shrugged, “it’ll be smooth sailing from then on.”
===
You figured you should’ve tried to do a lot better to fluff Chris up during the company dinner, instead of just going over to grill the meat for the directors, under the instruction of President Bang.
The action itself didn’t sit right with Chris, who didn’t understand why it was so imperative to the directors that you be the one to grill the meat until he realised just why they were keeping you there.
His own uncle was oblivious of course, simply obliging at any chance he got to show off how capable you were (even if it was just grilling meat), however Chris was quick to notice the way they stared at you as you reached between them to grill the meat, your face feeling hot with the steam from the grill.
“Y/N is very hardworking, graduated at the top of her class in college,” Mr Bang mentioned pointedly, making Chris’ eyebrows raise in surprise.
“Really? What did you study?” He spoke, knowing very well you were listening, the other directors not paying any attention to learning your background as they prompted you to pour them a drink. You didn’t miss the way his words were accented, remembering hearing from Seungmin that he’d spent a large chunk of his life in Australia.
Tipping the bottle, you’d answered (albeit a little preoccupied).
“Law,” you sat back on your heels, “minored in journalism.”
Chris frowned, not being able to understand why you would’ve chosen to work here as his uncle’s secretary of all things if you had pretty good prospects on your own.
“How’d you end up working for my uncle, then?” He voiced, your attention diverted when you’d been prompted by a director to take a shot of your own, clinking your glass obnoxiously and leaving you with no choice, an embarrassed flush on your face.
Taking the shot, you winced at the burn of the drink, glancing back at Chris, who was still looking at you curiously, wondering how you’d felt under the attention of the directors.
“Did it as a temp job at first,” you told him, “but I guess I realised halfway that I don’t mind it so much, and it paid me pretty well.”
Chris hummed, you ‘don’t mind’ this?
One of the directors let out a grunt of distaste, “you shouldn’t worry about that, doll. The job of a secretary is to look pretty, the pride of the company is in its secretaries,” he said, clearly having already had one-too-many drinks, his words leaving an awful aftertaste on your tongue, his hand going over to grasp your shoulder, his hand going down to your arm and squeezing.
“I always told her she’d do well as a housewife. That way she wouldn’t have to work and just mooch off her husband.”
You mustered a smile, setting the bottle of drink down and bowing to them, Chris having lost his appetite at the way you’d just let their comments slide.
“Maybe she prefers mooching off of the directors, instead,” Chris murmured, his sharp tongue getting the better of him, catching your attention as you were walking past him, making you stop in your tracks.
Chris’ uncle tut his tongue, nudging the boy harshly, making him raise his hands in surrender.
“What? Just speaking off of observation.”
You turned around, a surge of confidence arising in you (from where? You weren’t sure, maybe it was the fact that in your eyes he was still what was standing in between you and your possible severance pay), “excuse me?”
“I’m sorry, was there any untruth in what I said?” Chris turned, his gaze almost challenging you to speak out against the directors, not knowing that it was only serving to spur you on to speak out against him instead.
You scoffed, Chris standing up and awaiting your answer, a voice in you screaming at you not to be intimidated by him, especially with the way his head tilted down ever so slightly, his eyebrows raising expectantly.
“Didn’t know they would just let any rude petty kid run any company these days,” you narrowed your eyes at him, folding your arms and straightening your posture.
Seungmin, who was watching from his table with the legal team, grimaced, deeming Chris’ expression to be anything but friendly at the moment.
“I don’t know, maybe it’s just a little unbelievable to me that I’m supposed to be answering to someone who just got the company handed to him,” your words were coming out faster than you could help it. I mean, you were probably going to get fired anyway, right? Might as well go down with a fight.
“You don’t know anything about me,” Chris muttered, his voice firm, annoyance laced in his tone. Your words seemed to have triggered a spark in him, annoyed that you were doubting his abilities, blatantly disrespecting him even after knowing he could be your superior.
Mr Bang had tapped Chris’ calf harshly, “enough, don’t keep y/n from eating.”
Ignoring his words, Chris had stepped forward, staring you down as the tension had only thickened between the both of you.
“But then, what would you know, right? What was that again? Right. What are you here for other than to look pretty, hmm?” He tilted his head at you, flashing you a smile that was practically dripping with sarcasm.
You practically seethed with anger, your fists clenching as you unfolded your arms, your finger coming up to point at him, “you know what? I’d rather eat beansprouts for the rest of my life than work for you.” You scoffed.
Chris' amused lilt to his smile was only serving to annoy you even more, making you storm over to your table with the other secretaries, all of them casting you looks of concern or shock that you would have confronted him like that. Picking up your jacket, you’d scoffed, casting him one last look before you left, not expecting to see him again afterwards.
Well, that was the part you were very very wrong about.
That night, you’d called your boyfriend over to submit him to a seemingly never-ending rant about Chris, getting a text from Seungmin halfway.
“I mean, isn’t it good, then? That you can find another job?” Your boyfriend tried to reason, pressing a kiss to your neck as you straddled him where he was sitting leaning against your headboard.
“That’s not the point,” you insisted, pausing to read the text that Seungmin had sent, oblivious to his urgent kisses trailing up to your jaw.
seungmin (personal)
2:12am -consider yourself lucky. Spoke to Chan just now, make sure you show up to work tomorrow.-
“The point is that, he’s arrogant. What? Telling me that I’m only here to look pretty?—“
“In his defence, you insulted him first.”
You glared at your boyfriend, “Yeah, fine. But he provoked me first. And I don’t know, something about him just pisses me off,” you tried to reason, your boyfriend’s kisses beginning to distract you from your anger.
“You know what, maybe you should just give him a shot. Maybe he’s not as bad as he seems?”
And so you did as Seungmin had instructed, doing what you would’ve always done, grabbing your boss’ morning coffee before going to the office, ‘leisurely’ making your way upstairs as you tried to avoid any possible suit-clad blond-haired man.
Upon reaching your desk, you’d set your things under your desk, opening your scheduler and doing a quick run through of Mr Bang’s schedule for the day, grabbing the coffee and knocking on the glass doors before entering.
“Y/N! Just the person I wanted to see.” You nodded, walking over to place his coffee onto his table.
“You have the board meeting in half an hour, sir,” you informed him.
“Right, thank you. Would you be a dear and be there to serve the refreshments?”
You nodded, “yeah, sure.”
“If all goes as planned, Chan- I mean, Chris, will be taking over from next week onwards. So this week will be the last week i’m here.”
You frowned, “it’s a shame you’re retiring, you know,” your disappointment was evident in your tone.
Mr Bang simply waved you off, “it’s about time, I’m sure little Chris will do a good job.”
You’d kept your mouth shut, nodding as he stood up with his coffee cup in hand, looking at you with a smile, “shall we head down a little earlier, then?”
You nodded, opening the door for him to exit and following him silently to the venue of the board meeting. You were surprised, to say the least, when you’d reached only to find Chris there already, currently in an animated conversation with one of the directors, smiling like you’d never seen before, dimples showing on his cheeks.
Excusing yourself quickly, you’d gone to the pantry to prepare the drinks, your time here having made you familiar with the respective directors drink preferences. Carrying your tray carefully, you’d pushed the door open with your hip, seeing all the directors seated already, all seeming fairly comfortable around Chris, only serving to make the feeling of dread build in the pit of your stomach.
Making your way around the table, you’d distributed the drinks to the directors personally, refusing to make eye contact with Chris as you gave him his stupid cup of tea.
Once the meeting had started, you’d dismissed yourself outside the room, a part of you trying to listen in on the board meeting but not being able to hear much through the thick panelled glass. You were surprised when barely half an hour had passed and you’d heard applause in the room, peeping through the window to see Mr Bang give you a signal that you could come in.
Pushing the door open carefully, you saw the directors practically lining up to congratulate Chris, leaving promptly after looking all-too satisfied with the outcome of the meeting.
Mr Bang was speaking to Chris as the rest of the directors were leaving, “well, I guess this means my work here is as good as done. I’m sure your parents will be thrilled to hear the news,” he pat Chris on the back.
You were about to head out with Mr Bang, eager to avoid Chris when you’d heard him speak, “Y/N, I’d like to speak with you for a moment. Is that alright?” He cast a look at his uncle, who waved him off.
“Of course, she’s not my secretary anymore, remember?” You cast Mr Bang a look of distress, seeing him chuckle before giving you a thumbs up, exiting the room happily.
You winced, turning around so you were facing Chris, seeing him walk over to where you were, holding out a thick bound stack of papers for you to take.
“What’s this?”
"A contract. You can pass it to me by the end of the day once you've made your decision. I trust that you're familiar with reading contracts?" he asked as you stared at the papers, flipping and scanning through the print, realising that his terms were considerably more demanding than his uncle.
"You'll be able to find an additional attachment where I list what I would expect in a secretary. Feel free to consult me if you're unclear about any of them, though I don't think you would need to."
Your eyes lingered on the section of the contract, stating that you would be on a year of probation, but that the contract could be terminated whenever he felt appropriate.
"Whenever you deem appropriate?" you scoffed, looking up at him in disbelief.
He smiled, "very pretty wording, don't you think?"
"That's all I wanted to say. Remember, I'll expect your response by the end of the day."
You stared blankly as he shrugged his jacket off, draping it on one arm.
"Go ahead, what are you waiting for? You can go for your lunch break now," he urged, before his features pulled into a look of realisation, "oh, forgot. That is, unless you would rather eat...what was that again? Beansprouts?"
Your mouth opened, making as if to retort before you shut your mouth quickly, your eyes widening as he walked over to you, his gaze intense and serious, a contrast to the demeanour he wore while chatting up the director previously.
"I can handle myself, you know," you attempted to defend yourself, watching as Chris had shrugged.
"You have one whole year to prove that to me."
In that one year of working for Chris, you'd learnt a lot of things. Not only about your position as a secretary, but about Chris, ( not to mention, just exactly how spiteful he could be ).
1. Sleep was a luxury.
In your first week as his secretary, Chris had surprised you with the sheer rate of progress he was aiming, and moving at. It was as if all the rumours you'd heard before about his work ethic were a gross understatement of his tenacity.
You'd been having trouble adjusting to his deadlines, especially since he had entrusted more tasks to you. From surprise presentations, to drafting up proposals and reports, not to mention submitting research to him. To you, it felt as if you were doing half the job for him.
In short, you had never missed Mr Bang more than you did then.
Of course, Seungmin being your voice of reason, would shut your rants down, claiming it was ‘about time you do your job’, but of course, you loved to complain. Especially since it was someone you didn't have very fond feelings for that was assigning you the work. You grew increasingly irritated in the time you were adjusting to your sleep schedule, which Chris, and your boyfriend had definitely noticed.
Because of your changes in brain activity levels, you assumed (google could only diagnose so much), whenever sleep came to you, you welcomed it with open arms. Since waking up had become even more of a chore to run over to the coffee shop and squeeze yourself between the crowd of working adults and panda-eyed college students to get his very specific breakfast order.
You'd gone home from a birthday party of your boyfriend and your mutual friend, things having gotten a little...out of hand at your boyfriend's apartment since it'd been so long since you'd been able to spend time together, not with you always falling asleep during video calls or refusing them altogether for the sake of getting your work done. You'd missed him, and something about being apart made you miss his touch.
Jolting awake, (as if your body had been able to tell that your sleep was too smooth), you'd instantly sensed that something was wrong when you saw the light streaming in from behind the curtains, knowing for a fact that you usually woke up when it was still a little dark out.
Turning around, you'd fumbled for your phone on the bedside table, letting out a loud gasp when you saw the time. You were already a whole half-hour late.
"Shit!"
Your boyfriend startled, letting out a groan, his arm still lazily draped over your stomach.
"Did my alarm ring?" you asked, shoving his hand off of you and groaning, slipping out of bed quickly as you put on your clothes from the day before, not having any more time to go back to your apartment and get a fresh change of clothes.
"I don't know, I didn't hear anything," you heard your boyfriend mumble from where he lay.
Cursing, you'd ran over to his bathroom, washing your face quickly, a gasp leaving your mouth as you inspected the angry marks on your neck through the mirror.
"I hate you so much," you tugged up the collar of your turtleneck, successfully hiding the marks when you’d let your hair down.
Grabbing your things, you'd sprinted downstairs, hailing the first cab you could see and heading to your office.
Was he going to fire me? You were still on probation, so there was no reason he couldn't, right?
You'd fixed your hair anxiously as you jogged into the lobby, your shoes clacking noisily against the floor as you ran into the lift, even debating on whether taking the stairs would have been a better idea as the lift went up at an achingly slow pace.
Finally reaching your floor, you’d made your way to the meeting room, tossing your bags outside the door and entering with your laptop, notebook and pen, keeping your head down and avoiding Chris’ gaze as he was presenting to the room.
Taking your seat at the only empty seat left, (unfortunately, closer to the front of the room), you’d let out a small sigh. Expecting to hear Chris comment on your tardiness or whatnot, you opened your laptop, picking up on the minutes where you could.
Keeping your head down, you’d felt your colleague from the marketing team lean over to you as Chris had given everyone some time to analyse what he was showing on the screen, his lack of a comment making you even more anxious.
“Your hair’s a mess,” she whispered, making you wince, your hand going up to comb your hair into a ponytail in your attempt to look neater, hearing your colleague gasp.
“Dude! Put your hair back down, your neck,” she whispered, your eyes immediately darting to Chris’ direction, seeing that he was in fact staring at your jaw and neck as well, turning away quickly, the reddening of his ears giving him away.
Your hands let go of your hair as though you were burned, hearing your colleague snicker beside you, “I see someone had fun last night. Was that why you were late, too?”
You shushed her as Chris cleared his throat, embarrassment flooding your senses as you continued to take minutes, hoping that he wouldn’t be as mad at you if you showed that you were trying your best. Fat chance, but hey, you could dream.
Chris had started to assign things that he’d wanted the different departments to focus on for the project at hand, flashing a slide of deadlines that you watched people scramble to confirm with their existing information. You were secretly hoping someone would hold him back with a question so that he was too busy to confront you.
Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the case today. The meeting ended promptly, Chris leaving you in relative silence as you packed up your things, your colleagues giving you a look of sympathy as you followed him silently out of the room back to your desk.
“In my office, please,” he murmured.
You fiddled with your fingers, already anticipating for him to fire you.
“Can you explain to me what happened this morning?”
Your eyes widened, not daring to meet his gaze as it flickered between anything in the room other than him, “I uh..I didn’t um…I didn’t hear my alarm ring and nobody woke me up so I overslept.”
Chris’ stare was unwavering, leaning against his desk and folding his arms, “so is it not your responsibility to make sure you show up to work on time?”
“No, yeah of course it is—“
“Then I would like to see you be accountable for your mistakes,” he continued, “I’m not saying you can’t make mistakes, everybody makes mistakes. But if your mistake is what puts an entire room of people at an inconvenience, I would prefer if you were a little more apologetic about it.”
You’d let a short period of silence fall between the both of you, “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, your gaze fixed firmly on his shoelace, “am I fired?”
Chris let out a small sigh, shaking his head. “No, but, you know, if you ever let anything like this happen again, I won’t hesitate to fire you,” his voice was stern, annoyed almost.
“And Y/N, if this,” you looked up at him watching him gesture to his neck with his hand before gesturing back to you, making you cower, tugging your collar further up your neck, “is what’s the issue here. I’d suggest you start prioritising.”
“Sorry. It won’t happen again, I swear,” you rushed to speak, bowing quickly before exiting the room as fast as you could, wanting to tear your hair out in both annoyance and embarrassment.
You’d jumped when you heard the sound of your desk speaker, Chris’ voice sounding through the phone, “Is there a problem, Y/N?”
Your eyes widened, rushing over to your desk phone, shaking your head as you pressed the button to reply, “no, no! Not at all. There was just a… a bug here.”
Chris huffed, bringing his hand up to hide his amusement, watching you scramble to regain your composure.
2. Chris was a workaholic
It was seeing (and experiencing) all the late nights in the office and the erratic pattern of his emails on weekends that drew you to this conclusion. His routine of sleeping late and then proceeding to get up at ungodly hours to either get work done or give up on the idea of a smooth sleep, since you were aware that he tended to have trouble sleeping. Not to mention the way it seemed to you as if the top priority in his life was his work, wanting to do his best to get the company to where he wanted it to be.
After a few months of working for him, it was very clear to you that your job entailed not only taking care of his work, but taking care of him.
You were going over to the legal team's office to collect the binders Chan had left to them, seemingly needing one of them now, thankful to have spotted Seungmin along the way as he was leaving his desk.
Shooting you a look of sympathy, he'd peeked his head out to glance at your area, noticing everyone else in your team had gone home already.
"Working late again?"
You were sure you looked horrible, with bags under your eyes and your complexion looking dull from lack of sleep, but well, you had to earn a living, right?
You shot him a pointed look, "you know the rules, can't go home until the boss goes home," you heaved a pained sigh.
"You know, I'm starting to wonder if he even has a social life," you thought out loud, earning an amused grunt from Seungmin.
"I could say the same about you." You ignored his comment.
"What d'you need?" he asked, though you were already making your way to his superior's desk, grabbing the file and leaving a post-it to say it was with Chris.
"Nothing, just this." You let out a small grunt at the weight of the binder, your wrists aching from all the filing you'd done that morning and afternoon (you never did notice until now how inefficient Chris' uncle's document organization system was).
"All the best," he gave you a thumbs up, earning a pitiful pout from you before you'd headed back to Chris' office.
Knocking on his door, you'd heard him murmur for you to come in, pushing the heavy doors open with your shoulder as you shoved your way through the doors, placing the binder onto the coffee table where he'd had his documents and laptop laid out haphazardly.
Chan's hair was a mess, likely from running his hands through it as he worked, his tie discarded and the top few buttons of his shirt undone, looking at you with tired eyes.
He was about to ask you for some water, but you'd seemed to have read his mind, walking over to the table near his desk and pouring him a glass of warm water from the flask.
"I'm almost done with the filing, but I'll be outside so you can let me know if you need anything."
You'd felt your pocket buzz with a notification, momentarily taking your attention away from Chris.
Chris glanced at the files before looking back at you in thought, stopping you before you could exit the room, "actually, can you help me to write a report on this, I'll need this by tomorrow afternoon."
Knowing Chris' deadlines, that meant he would've needed it by tomorrow morning, which left you no choice other than to start working on it now.
Chris picked up a small file with a post-it note stuck onto the file, handing it to you.
"The points are all there. I would've done it myself but by the looks of it this is gonna take a while more than I expected," he sighed, his hands on his hips as he stared at the pile of papers in front of him in disdain.
Chris never would've admitted that he'd started preparing the post-it notes for you in case he wasn't able to complete his work in time, since he usually opted to write from his head, but he knew you worked better with structure. He'd only realised after starting to do it that it helped him draft the write-ups more concisely, so of course, the reason was always 'for his own convenience', never creating opportunities for you to think he actually tried accommodating to you.
"This current arrangement is very un-environmentally friendly," you mumbled, staring at the papers as well.
"I'll go get this done now," you gave him a nod, exiting his office as you pulled your phone from your pocket, the text from your boyfriend practically glaring at you, asking if you were able to meet that night.
10:47pm - sorry, working late :( gotta work on a report due tomorrow morning -
Biting back your disappointment at having to bail on your boyfriend again, you'd nodded resolutely, pulling up your delivery app to order food for Chris before you started on the report lest he start to get irritable because he was hungry.
And lastly, the point you couldn't quite seem to wrap your head around, was that
3. He was very nice, just...not so much to you.
After the oversleeping incident from before, it was safe to say you'd never let a similar mistake repeat itself. You were constantly making sure you were alert and responsive to anything Chris could possibly throw to you (and he knew this too).
The only downside Chris saw to this, was that it seemed as though your attitude towards the directors hadn't changed. Still swallowing their disgusting comments and serving them with a smile, even if they were looking everywhere but your face. It irked Chris. And it irked him even more that the only one you seemed to serve without a smile, was him.
Unbeknownst to him, you'd shared the same sentiments.
"Do you ever look at someone and wonder what is going on in their head?" you spoke.
Seungmin snorted, "wait, are you talking about the meme or..." your lack of a response made Seungmin follow your gaze (or glare) to where Chris was seated at the other end of the table, giggling and smiling as he spoke with the other secretaries.
"Ah," Seungmin nodded, understanding now why your spoon hadn't moved an inch from your bowl, your grip around it almost death-like.
"What are you so mad about? He's not doing anything?"
You shot Seungmin a pointed look, your voice lowering to a murmur, "can't you see it? With them he's all rainbows and unicorn shit but with me it's like just smiling would kill him."
You heard the secretaries letting out giggles and impressed sounds at something Chris had just said, the sound itself enough to make you annoyed.
Seungmin's eyebrows furrowed, looking at you in scepticism, "you know the secretaries are only being nice because they're interns, right? I heard from one of them that they're actually really scared of him."
Seungmin brought his chopsticks to his mouth, taking a piece of food from your bowl that he knew you weren't going to eat anyway, "especially after they saw how he spoke to you during the meeting the other day,"
You scoffed, "good to know that I was the warning."
Your phone buzzed, signalling a text from your boyfriend. Strangely enough, it'd been a while since you'd texted him, since you were busy with work and he was busy with school.
Ignoring it initially, too distracted by Chris, it wasn't long before you saw his caller ID show up on the screen, getting Seungmin's attention.
"I think you should answer that," he gestured, making you glance around the table in your hesitance, not knowing if it would be rude to just exit halfway.
Picking up the phone-call, you'd turned your head, lowering your volume to a murmur, "hello?"
"Hey, can we talk? I really need to tell you something."
You winced, "is it urgent? I'm at a team dinner right now."
Your boyfriend sighed, scoffing, "it really is always work with you, huh."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
You glanced at the table, standing up to excuse yourself. Chris's expression read confusion, eavesdropping on a secretary asking what happened, Seungmin replying that it was your boyfriend calling.
You'd made your way outside the restaurant, Chris glancing in your direction and spotting you walk past the restaurant's windows, a part of him shaking off whatever curiosity that lingered in him as he focused on his conversation. After all, you did tell him you could handle yourself, right?
Where you were, you'd moved to a quieter spot outside the restaurant, "okay, I can talk now. What's up?"
You kicked at the ground absently as you awaited his reply.
"Look, are you free to meet tonight? There's something I need to tell you."
"Uh..." you glanced into the restaurant, making eye contact with Chris before looking away, "I've got to work later, though. I need to get some research done for this review that i'm behind on, I don't wanna meet you if i'm just gonna end up on my computer while you're there, you know?"
Your boyfriend nodded, "you know, that's kind of what i wanted to talk to you about."
"Oh," a feeling of dread was building in your stomach, recognising your boyfriend's tone to be the one he used whenever he was talking about something serious.
The first time you heard it was when you witnessed him on a work phone-call, the second being how he spoke to your parents the first time they'd met, but this time, you had a feeling you knew what was coming.
"Let's break up."
You fell silent, not knowing how to respond to his words.
"Is it, um.... is it because of my work?" You asked, a part of you not being able to come to terms with the fact that it could have been your fault, "because you know I can't do anything about that."
Your boyfriend sighed, "I know. I'm just talking about how you've been so emotionally invested in your work you don't even have the energy to maintain this relationship."
You frowned, "what, what do you want me to do, quit my job? Will that be better for you?"
"Look, i've been seeing someone," he began. Your heart sank.
"And i'd be lying if I said that wasn't part of the reason. But... it was only when I started seeing her that I realised... things between us just weren't the same as before."
Your heart felt heavy, a part of you knowing that he was making it a lot easier to be mad at him by confessing what he did, but another part of you couldn't help but prompt him further.
"When did it start?"
"That doesn't matter-"
You sighed, taking your lower lip between your teeth, "it's fine, I just wanna know."
"Fine, it was about a month in from you working for your new boss."
You nodded slowly, still trying to process his words. You weren't quite sure what came over you when you saw Chris exiting the restaurant, turning to face your direction and spotting you in the alley. But it was as if you were so mad at yourself, mad at him, mad at your boyfriend (or ex-boyfriend now), that you'd ended the call, shoving your phone into the pocket of your blazer before heading over to where Chris was.
"You guys aren't going home?" you heard one of the secretaries ask as you and Chris had approached his car, his driver already sitting in the car and waiting.
Chris shook his head with a smile, "nope, we're heading back to the office."
You mustered a smile as you bid them goodbye, you guessed this was probably the best time to bury yourself in your work as a poor coping mechanism after a breakup, as far as movie breakups went.
The car-ride was silent, despite the pinging of your phone, making you switch it to silent mode halfway, earning a curious look from Chris, though he didn't make to ask you about it.
Upon reaching the office, the both of you had gone back into your clockwork routine, as you sat in his office working on your computer and scribbling down on your notebook the important details you wanted him to check. Chris found that your background in law and journalism made it a lot easier whenever it came to reading and condensing information, which had only allowed him to trust you more when it came to getting tasks like that done, saving him precious time he could spend working on other things.
The buzzing of your phone was growing more frequent, though it was as if you were oblivious to it now as you typed away at your computer.
"Right, can you help to postpone tomorrow afternoon's meeting, and help me to make a reservation at the steak place, 2 people."
You hadn't made to move, pulling your phone out but having gotten distracted at the multitude of missed calls and texts just because your boyfriend wanted to 'make sure you were okay'. Please.
"Hello? Can you hear me?" you heard Chris call, snapping you out of your daze as his gaze searched your expression, trying to read your emotions.
"Sorry, can you repeat that? I didn't hear you."
Chris sighed, his annoyance at your phone that had lit up with a call again getting the better of him, "you know I don't ask you to stay later just for you to waste my time, you know."
Your gaze hardened. There it was, the side of Chris that you had the 'privilege' of being at the brunt of, nowhere near the smiley giggly Chris you witnessed at the restaurant just now.
"I said I was sorry. What do you want me to do?"
Chris huffed, his gaze darting to your phone as he spoke, "reservation for 2 people tomorrow afternoon, the steak place my mom likes. Postpone tomorrow afternoon's appointment with Director Lee." He told you slowly, his tone as if speaking to a young child, which only served to piss you off even more.
"Who's calling you?" he asked.
You shook your head in dismissal, "my...uh..." you weren't sure how to respond, watching dumbly as he made his way to where you were, lifting your phone to read the contact before letting out a huff.
"Okay, well you can tell your boyfriend that if you're gonna be this distracted at work, you can kiss your night goodbye."
You inhaled deeply, absolutely upset but knowing there wasn't much you could do about it. You loved your job, even though you hated to admit it. Ever since Chris came in, you were getting a lot more work experience and exposure, especially with how he would make it mandatory for you to attend certain language courses that would help him whenever you accompanied him on networking events or business galas.
And in that moment, you couldn't help but think back to what he'd said the first time he'd scolded you when he'd told you to figure out your priorities. Maybe your boyfriend called you at the right time, maybe you just weren't ready to focus on things other than your career at this point of time.
Turning your phone off, you'd made sure Chris saw that it was off, raising your hands up in surrender, "done. I'll book your stupid reservation now." You stalked out before Chris could chime in with a 'watch your tone'.
===
You'd been working for Chris for what was coming to 2 years now. The company had been reaping the results of their hard work for a while now, and you were thankful that even though you weren't as busy as before, you still managed to keep your job. Other than the fact that Chris’ hair was now back to dark brown, not much else had changed.
Although, one tiny change you were starting to wish for was that Chris would at least try to make things a little more bearable for you.
You were currently at a meeting with the directors where Chris was presenting the overview of the company's performance in the past month. You would have to say you were pretty satisfied with the work you'd both done on that, working a lot more efficiently now compared to when you'd first started out.
Your silent admiration of the presentation was interrupted when one of the directors summoned you over to ask for a cup of coffee.
Doing as you were told ( much to Chris' dismay ), you'd gone and come back in record time with his hot cup of coffee, bending down and making your way to where the director sat, not wanting to prevent any of them from seeing what Chris was presenting.
While he was presenting, it didn't take Chris very long to realise why the director had kept asking you for things, your position from where you were squatting next to him making it all-too-easy for him to ogle at you without you noticing.
For some reason, this seemed to have gotten on Chris' nerves, especially because that director's secretary was simply minding her own business at the back of the room.
Did Chris think what you were wearing that day was nice? He'd say he didn't but of course he did. But unlike the director, he preferred not to be so blatant about it, especially because you were always so rude towards him.
You'd tensed momentarily when the director had grabbed your arm, about to get up when you heard Chris' voice get louder.
"Y/N, I'd appreciate if you would stop distracting the directors and go back to your seat."
(Later on, Seungmin would be struggling to hold back his laughter in the printing room when Chan told him to tell you to button up your blouse a little more.
“Why can’t you just tell her yourself?”
Chan scoffed, “knowing her, she’s just gonna think I was looking at her… chest or something.”
Seungmin narrowed his eyes at Chan teasingly, “well, were you?”
Chan waved him off with a groan, “just tell her, okay? The directors are having a field day with her looking like that.”)
You'd almost scoffed at the way the director had immediately let go of you, and you straightened up quickly, heading back to sit with the other secretaries.
"That was harsh," you heard one of the secretaries murmur to you, making you shrug.
"Whatever, not like I expected more from him anyway."
(You did, you totally did. You'd kill for him to be less grating with his words).
After the meeting, you'd felt a phone ring in your bag, pulling it out to see that Chris' mom was calling, obviously not having been able to reach him. Making your way to where he was, you'd interrupted his packing of his things.
"Your mom is calling you," you'd told him out of habit, holding his phone out for him to take, jumping slightly when you'd heard one of the directors let out a dismayed grunt.
"Is that any way to talk to your boss?"
Your eyes widened, Chris seeming to be enjoying the situation play out before him as you regained your composure, looking back at Chris with a sickly sweet smile on your face. In front of the directors, you couldn't act up like how you usually did when it was just the both of you, so you had no choice but to be all smiles
"President Bang, your mother is calling you," you told him, and if you were annoyed, you didn't show it, having years of practice from dealing with the directors.
"uh-huh," Chris smirked, taking the phone from your hands and answering it as he gestured for you to help him gather his papers.
"No, mom. I’ve told you already, i’m really fine with how things are now. I'm not going on another one."
Not that you cared, but you had to admit you were kind of curious as to what he was so insistently refusing.
"Yes, okay, bye," he hung up, handing the phone back to you.
You'd tried your best to suppress your curiosity, seeing as he was about to be late for his next meeting with one of his friends if he hadn't hurried.
Fixing your blouse, you'd carried your laptop in your arm as you walked with him back to his office, with you going into the lift first, Chris having chosen the wrong time to step in as a girl you recognised as one of the interns had done so too, the number of people squeezing into the lift causing her to jerk her arm, her coffee landing unceremoniously on Chris’ tie and shirt.
Chris let out a hiss at the temperature of the liquid, eliciting a long string of apologies from the girl. You knew that if it was you that had spilled the coffee, he would be going on and on about carelessness now, but the intern obviously wasn’t you, and so you watched in envy as Chris had given her a smile, dismissing her apologies quickly.
“It’s fine, really. I just hope you still have some coffee left to drink,” he laughed.
Not only was he not upset, but he was joking with her too?
You scoffed, rolling your shoulders back as you’d watched the numbers on the elevator rise till it reached your floor, the girl looking scared for her life when you’d cast her a look, bowing to you apologetically.
“Where did you keep the spare change of clothes?” Chris asked as he’d begun loosening his tie.
You hadn’t responded as he let you walk before him into his office, making your way over to one of the cupboards at the side of the room and opening it, pulling out a hanger with a nicely ironed set of work clothes.
“You can go and get changed, I’ll wait here,” you murmured, Chris walking over to where you were and giving you his stained tie.
God, you hoped his dry-cleaning run wouldn’t make you late for your lunch appointment.
Looking at his tie, you brought it up closer to your face to inspect the material, it was a well-made tie, you had to say. Not too skinny, the material feeling almost luxurious in your hold, tempting you to put it on in your boredom.
Hanging it round your neck, you mustered your best ‘Chris accent’.
“You should be accountable for your mistakes! Don’t you know how many people you’re inconveniencing? Now I have a tie that reeks of coffee, look,” you held up the tie with a gasp, “and my secretary’s gonna be late for her lunch meeting!” You pointed accusatorially at the small black penholder that sat on his desk.
“Yeah! Do you know how much you’re inconveniencing me? I don’t ask you to show up to work to waste my time—“
You’d stopped in your tracks when you heard Chris clearing his throat, grimacing as you tried to regain your composure, taking off the tie as quickly as you could, holding it tightly in your palm as you turned to face him.
“Having fun?”
“No,” you shot back quickly, not even wanting to ask how long he’d been standing there.
Walking over to you, he’d handed you his stained shirt, his expression like that of a parent that had caught their kid doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing.
“You know, sometimes I wish you’d talk back to the directors like how you talk back to me.”
Your eyes widened, confused at his sudden comment, but not having the time to respond as Chris continued.
“Get these dry-cleaned over lunch. The stain’ll be harder to get out the longer you wait.”
You huffed, already walking away from him, “well, when you say it like that I’d might as well go do it now.”
You'd been keeping yourself busy with replying emails when you heard the elevator ding, the sound of footsteps getting louder before you saw a considerably young, suit-clad man walking towards your desk.
"I'm here to see Chris? I'm Director Kang," he told you, though you didn't need him to introduce himself, knowing very well who he was.
"He's in there," you held a finger up to signal him to wait as you picked up your desk telephone, pressing a button to page Chris.
"Director Kang's here to see you."
"Okay, send him in."
Chris closed the work he was doing on his desktop, making his way over to the leather couches as he saw his friend enter the room.
"Yo, when were you planning on telling me about your hot secretary?"
Chris' eyebrows raised, "didn't think that was something worth mentioning."
"Well, why not?" his friend frowned, his features pulling into one of shock, "wait, don't tell me... you guys are dating?"
Chris rolled his eyes, "no, we're not. And please, for both our sakes, don't try anything funny with her."
The director was about to respond, interrupted by your knocking on the door, the door opening slightly so you could enter.
"Can I get you anything? Like a drink? Coffee? Tea?" you asked.
The director simply looked at you curiously, sitting with his ankle resting on his other knee, "only if you'd care to join me."
Chris glared at his friend, shutting him up quickly before he could say anything more, "coffee for him, I don't want a drink."
You nodded, exiting quickly.
"What did you come to tell me about?"
"Must I have a reason to come and visit my beloved friend?"
Chris rolled his eyes, "my time is precious."
This made the director scoff, "is that your excuse now? Anyway, I came to ask if you were going for Brian's wedding next weekend."
"Oh, yeah, right. He asked me about it last night and I said I would go, you?"
Director Kang rolled his eyes, "can't, I've got a business trip that weekend."
Chris hummed in acknowledgement, "that reminds me. I should get a gift for them soon. Who'd he say he was marrying again?"
"This girl he met at work, she's nice. But, you know, not my type."
As if that wasn't enough, Director Kang continued, "anyway, are you bringing a date?"
He was interrupted once again by the sound of your knocking, the door opening as you made your way over to them, bending to place the cup of coffee down onto the table, making Director Kang gesture to you with his head, mouthing 'you should bring her'.
Waving him off, Chris was eager to get Director Kang’s attention away from you, almost as if wanting to protect you from getting swayed by him, knowing the outcome was never too bright.
"Y/N, you can go for an early lunch break today."
Your eyebrows raised, the prospect seeming almost too good to be true. Since when was he so nice?
"Huh? But I still have some stuff to hand the legal team..." you sounded unsure, though you did consider this to be luck since you were supposed to meet one of your friends from college for lunch today.
Chris gave you a stern look, waving you off, making you raise your hands in surrender.
“Okay, okay, I’ll go.”
On your way out, you’d texted your friend that you were gonna be able to meet earlier, pleasantly surprised when she’d told you she was already in the area and that she was able to head over now.
You’d managed to drop off Chris’ clothes for dry-cleaning before heading to the restaurant, spotting your friend already seated at your table.
“Hey! Wow, you look great!” She told you, giving you a hug in greeting.
“Feel a lot better compared to last year,” you joked, making her frown.
“Your boss still giving you trouble?”
Shrugging, you’d taken a seat, “nothing out of the ordinary. Seems like it’s part of his daily routine to annoy me.”
She laughed, “I ordered our food already, if you don’t mind.”
Shaking your head, you waved in dismissal, “no, yeah, I don’t mind. Thanks. Anyway, you look pretty good yourself, how’ve you been?”
You didn’t miss the way she’d leaned closer to you, tucking her hair behind her ear in a pointed gesture, drawing your attention to the large gemstone on her ring.
Your eyes widened, “no way.”
She nodded, “I wanted to tell you sooner but you were so busy! I was glad enough I managed to squeeze in this lunch with you,” she told you, making you pout.
“When’s the wedding?” You asked.
“Next week. We’re going to have it in this beautiful church out of town, really really nice place,” she told you, “really romantic, too,” she added as an afterthought.
You let out a deep sigh, “I hope you’re not going where I think you’re going with this.”
She gave you a scandalised look, pausing as the waiter had come to deliver your food, “first of all, Brian has a lot of good-looking friends!”
You gave her a look, prompting her to continue, “well, not that I’ve seen all of them but he tells me that a lot of them are single! And you know who else is single…” she pointed her finger towards you with an overly excited glint to her grin.
“We’ve been through this a million times, Eujin. I’ve tried but it’s really hard to find a guy that’s willing to cope with… you know, my kind of schedule,” you gave her a tired (wistful) sigh, “and with my schedule, I doubt I have the time, not to mention the energy to date.”
Eujin’s lips twisted into a frown, “but it’s been so long! Don’t you want to get back in the dating scene?”
You scoffed, cutting into your food harshly before taking a bite.
“Of course I do. But the last time I went on a date the guy basically shat on me for being a workaholic,” you huffed, “I mean, my boss’ working hours means my working hours, shouldn’t they just shit on him instead? Why is it my fault that he’s basically destroyed what I have left of a social life.”
Eujin shot you a look of sympathy, “I’d say I pitied you, but it’s not like you can’t get a job anywhere else, you know?”
You’d kept your mouth shut at that, “I know… it just… I can’t just leave when I’ve already gotten so used to how things work here.”
Of course that was one reason, but you would never admit that there was a nagging inside of you that didn't trust Chris to look after himself if you weren't here, remembering how he'd overworked himself during a crucial period after he took over the company, and you'd found him passed out on his desk when you showed up to work that day.
You'd sort of made a silent promise that as much as you didn't like him, you still cared for him in a way. In the way a secretary would care for her boss, totally.
You decided to change the topic, not wishing to talk about your hopeless love life at the moment.
“What’s the program gonna be like?”
Eujin’s eyes lit up, setting her cutlery down as she clasped her hands together, “Okay, so. The plan is for it to be a sort of weekend-long thing,” she told you, holding her finger up.
“Firstly, on Thursday night we’ll have a little girls night type thing, and then Friday is the rehearsal dinner, Saturday will kind of be a little rest day and then Sunday is the actual wedding,” she said, now holding up four fingers to you.
Your head was spinning at the (rather enticing) thought of taking basically 4 days off of work, before the dread settled in that you had to ask Chris for permission to take those days off.
“I hope my boss will let me take time off…” you murmured, already rehearsing in your head possible ways on how you could tell him.
Eujin gave you a resolute look, “you can do it! If he says no just let me know, I’ll go over to your fancy office and fight whoever he is myself.”
===
“How many days?”
Chris had asked at your desk as he prepared to leave to meet his mom for lunch since she’d happened to be in the business district.
You fiddled with your pen anxiously, “uh..4 days? Technically 3 and a half. But 2 of those are weekends I just need you to make sure you just don’t bother me on that weekend it’s a really important weekend.”
Chris narrowed his eyes at you, unsure why you were so insistent on him leaving that weekend alone, nodding slowly.
Whatever, he figured, she’s just lucky I’m busy that weekend too.
“Okay.”
“I swear I’ll—wait, you’re okay with it?”
Chris shrugged, straightening his tie, “yeah. I’ve got something on that weekend too.”
You let out a surprised hum, “oh… cool. Thanks…Mr Bang,” you added as a force of habit, not wanting to risk getting scolded for ‘insubordination’ again just because you didn’t call him by his honorific.
Chris huffed, leaving before you could see his ears reddening.
Over lunch, Chris’ mom had been inspecting him carefully as he ate, as if the answer to her worries lay in every piece of sushi he ate.
“Is there something you’re not telling me? Are you… gay?” She asked, continuing, “because if you are you know you can just tell me, instead of constantly upsetting the girls I try to set you up with.”
Chris gave her a unamused look, “mom, I’ve told you a thousand times. I would really love to date, but it’s hard to find someone with a similar work ethic as myself, that can keep up with my… lifestyle and who really understands my needs, you know?”
This made Chris’ mom perk up, “that’s it! Why don’t you just date your secretary!”
Chris almost choked on his sushi, fumbling to grab his glass of water to calm himself down and compose himself.
“What,” he spoke between coughs, “gave you that idea?”
His mom looked at him in disbelief, “whatever you just said, you were basically describing her, no? And plus, we’ve heard a lot of wonderful things about her from your uncle.”
Chris couldn’t help but entertain the possibility in his head. It was true, you did work at a very efficient pace with him, not to mention how spending almost everyday in such close contact with him made you understand his own needs and wants even better than he did on occasions. Chris shook his head, that wasn’t possible, right? You looked as though you’d absolutely hated him half the time, he’d be expecting too much from you if he’d expected you to fall for him.
Chris shook his head, dismissing the thought from both him and his mom’s minds quickly, “no, mom. I’m fine with how things are between us right now.”
Chris had let you leave the office earlier on Thursday, (much to your surprise) allowing you to have ample time to pack your bags and get a cab to the destination, Eujin having taken the liberty and helped you book your hotel beforehand.
Upon reaching, you’d texted Eujin saying you’d reached.
eujin
6:54pm -yay!! Lets just chill in one of our rooms, we can discuss it in the chatgroup!!-
Trust her to be excitable even about the smallest things.
You saw an incoming text from Seungmin.
seungmin (personal)
6:54pm -what where r u I went over to find u but both u and Chris weren’t here-
6:55pm -im at a friends wedding, took the weekend off-
seungmin (personal)
6:55pm -wow finally using your employee perks nvm then have fun-
You’d checked in, marvelling at the cozy yet elegant look of the hotel as you made your way through the lobby, letting the lift take you up to your hotel room floor.
Changing into more comfortable clothes, you’d seen the group chat saying to gather in Eujin’s room, with mentions of ordering pizza. Considering this was your first weekend away from work in a very, long while, you were determined to make the most of it, heading over to Eujin’s room.
You hadn’t expected to be welcomed as warmly as you were, hearing comments of ‘we were so happy you could make it!’ Or ‘thank God you could take time off!’, sharing the same sentiments as them as you’d let Eujin pull you onto the bed, the softness of the sheets and pillows instantly making a content sigh leave you.
“I ordered room service,” Eujin sing-songed, gesturing to the Champagne bottles and whatnot on the tray next to the bed.
“I’ll have one,” you raised your hand, earning a laugh from one of your friends.
“Tired from work?”
You let out a loud groan, nodding. This made Eujin nod gravely, “I swear, if I ever see your boss in real life, I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind.”
You scoffed, “you don’t even know what he looks like.” You’d gratefully accepted the glass of champagne that was handed to you. "and plus, he's not that bad, other than the fact that he finds joy in pissing me off. He just works too hard in my opinion."
You’d spent your time enjoying the once chance you could relax to your heart’s content without feeling dread at having to wake up early the following day, enjoying yourself as you leant against the headboard of the bed, listening to stories about how they’ve been and how all of them were either planning on getting engaged soon, were in long-term relationships or already married.
“You guys make me wanna get married too,” you pouted, earning bouts of laughter from them.
“You’d have to actually date to do that, you know,” they told you pointedly, making you sigh.
“You’re basically married to your job, already,” your friend chimed in, making you laugh.
“Seems like that, doesn’t it? I was super shocked he’d let me have the weekend off, usually he’d be swarming me with emails about now.”
“I’m excited to see Brian’s friends tomorrow, maybe there’ll be someone that catches your eye,” Eujin told you, making you shrug.
“Just out of curiosity, though, what are you looking for in a guy? You know, we could help you keep an eye out too.”
You hummed, shrugging.
“I’ve never really thought of a specific…criteria I guess. I guess I’d just like someone that’s kind, looks out for me, doesn't underestimate me...sort of has the same lifestyle as me? Since it’s honestly been really hard to find someone that doesn’t hate my schedule.”
You'd almost scoffed at the way your brain had refused to picture anyone else other than Chris while you thought about it, figuring it was probably because he was the only guy you were in constant contact with.
Eujin looked at you resolutely, “we’ll do our best,” she held up a fist in an action to cheer you on.
You shrugged, You figured maybe going into this with an open mind would do you some good.
You changed the topic, directing the focus back to Eujin, “whatever, let’s just have fun, it’s your big day soon, let’s just celebrate!”
===
At the rehearsal dinner, you had yet to arrive, since you’d spent a little longer getting ready, choosing to use your opportunity to dress up a little more, not having the luxury to do so during your usual work days.
You had texted Eujin that you were on the way with some of the other bridesmaids, her attention directed elsewhere when her fiancé had called her over.
“Hey, wanted you to meet some of my friends from law school.”
While being introduced, Eujin couldn’t help but wonder if they were single, remembering your mentioned criteria from the night before.
“Oh, so are you guys all working in the law sector now?”
Her husband shook his head, “All of them, except Chan here. He’s the ceo of Bang Mobile Media company.”
Eujin’s eyes widened, glancing at the brown-haired boy cautiously, as if sizing him up. Y/N worked in a mobile company too, right? If she was remembering this correctly. Was it mobile or broadcasting?
“Oh, wow. That’s impressive.”
Eujin had let them introduce themselves more, not being able to help but think that Chan was nice, friendly, and rich on top of that?
“I don’t get it, how are you single? You’re basically the whole package!” She wondered out loud, making Chan flush, giggling as he shook his head.
Her husband seemed to have begged to differ, “Chan is incorrigible when it comes to his love life.”
Eujin raised her eyebrows in surprise, not having expected someone so good-looking to have such a fate, “really? Is there a reason behind that?”
“He’d never dated much, even back when he was in Australia. He was always super dedicated to his work,” this had served to make Eujin even more positive about this guy’s prospects as a suitor for you.
“Oh my god, you’re exactly like one of my friends, I should totally introduce her to you when she comes later.”
“Hey, cut him some slack,” one of his friends had spoken up, “Chan can’t cheat on his job.”
Eujin felt her phone vibrate signalling a notification, pulling it out to see that you’d arrived already, excusing herself and practically running over to the entrance of the venue. “Chan, you stay put, I have just the perfect girl to introduce you to!”
“Y/N! You have to come quick, I think I found the perfect guy for you.”
Your eyes widened, clutching onto the chain of your bag as you followed her into the room.
“He’s really nice, and friendly, and he’s good-looking! Really cute dimples! And on top of that he’s loaded. I’m so excited for you to meet him.”
Letting her drag you along, you’d distracted yourself with the atmosphere of the area, wondering just how much it would cost to book a venue like this, tugging down your dress that was hiking up from practically running after Eujin.
“Hey, I have someone I’d like you to meet. Chan, this is Y/N,” Eujin chirped, the names causing the both of your heads to shoot up, locking eyes with each other as a feeling of doom built in the pit of your stomach.
Your eyes widened in panic, glancing down at your attire, back to him, who was dressed in a flowy black shirt that you were sure cost more than your one week’s pay, the top few buttons of his shirt undone to reveal a simple silver necklace, and fitted black pants, your gaze landing on the small silver rings on his ears, almost feeling as though you were looking at a different person.
Chris thought so too, seeming to have the same panic as you as he tried not to let his gaze linger too long on your dress, nodding his head at you in greeting, “nice to uh…meet you.”
His ears had felt hot as you nodded back at him, almost startling when Eujin had cheered, leaning over to whisper to you, “I’ll make sure you guys get to sit next to each other.”
You were about to protest when she’d left, leaving you standing at the bar with Chris.
“So, Y/N, how do you know the bride to be?”
You gulped, wanting to slap yourself for how your gaze had kept returning to Chris, unable to shake the feeling of needing to be in work-mode now with his presence before you.
“Oh, uh, we were friends since college,” you answered simply.
“Cool, did you guys have the same major?” Chris had to stop himself from glaring at his friend, a strange feeling inside of him as he recognised the look on his friend’s face and his posture to be that which he used whenever he was interested in a girl.
You shook your head, “uh, not quite. I majored in law but she majored in journalism.” You tried to respond as calmly as you could, not being able to shake Chris’ gaze off of you, feeling as though at any moment he was going to call you out for something you weren’t even aware of.
You saw the guy practically light up at the mention of law.
“Woah, that’s really coincidental. All of us met in law school,” he gestured to the group of them, making you laugh nervously.
“Where are you guys um… dates?” You asked, immediately regretting the question when you saw the way Chris was practically glaring at you.
You didn’t understand why he was glaring at you, wasn’t it a valid question?
“We didn’t bring dates, unfortunately. Did you?”
You shook your head, making Chris snort. “Does it look like she brought a date? She literally came in alone.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, unsure where his spitefulness was coming from, especially when his friend was just trying to make conversation with you.
You scoffed, folding your arms. “Yeah, pity. Maybe I’d have time to date if I wasn’t always so busy running around doing shit for my boss,” you cast a pointed glance at him, bringing a hand up to nonchalantly run it through your hair.
Chris smirked, two could play at this game.
“Same here, I’d probably have the time to date too if my secretary wasn’t always causing trouble.”
“Your secretary?” His friend spoke up, “I heard from someone she was pretty cute, and nice too.”
You’d almost wanted to agree, realising that if you did it would put you in a pretty compromising position, simply acting surprised.
“If I had a secretary like that, I’d just date her,” one of his friends had spoken up, making your eyes widen, wracking your brain for possible responses.
“Who knows, are you a workaholic?” You asked pointedly, earning amused grunts and laughs from his friends, “ah… it’d be too bad if I was your secretary, then. I absolutely can’t stand dating workaholics.”
Chris narrowed his eyes at you, the both of you knowing you were just as bad at him, replying calmly, “oh, you can’t stand dating workaholics? Me neither.”
You were thankful that Eujin had given you a small break when she'd invited everyone to take their seats so dinner could be served, wincing when you'd ended up sitting next to Chris out of habit, momentarily forgetting that you weren't attending a networking session.
You'd hoped and prayed that you wouldn't slip up more than you already did. As much as you'd wanted to spite him, he was still your boss, and you knew he'd give you an earful for even the slightest hint of disrespect ( which you were sure you'd surpassed already ).
Focusing on the gorgeous food they'd served you, you saw the waiter pick up the bottle of wine, pouring it for you.
Having been oblivious, the waiter was about to pour a glass for Chris as well, making your secretary-instincts kick in, your arm darting across Chris to stop the waiter in time.
"No, Mr Bang, you shouldn't drink that."
Chris would have looked fairly amused if he wasn't stressed out by your proximity, with you practically leaning over him to speak to the waiter.
You'd cursed internally, wincing at the way Chan's friend had looked at you, tilting his head in confusion.
"Mr Bang? And how do you know his alcohol preference?"
Chris let out a nervous giggle as you straightened up, "uh...well um like...you know it's a really funny story actually... we're um..."
Not being able to bear his awkward fumbling any longer, you'd butt in, "We work in the same company. Yeah."
You were lucky his friend had bought it, simply nodding in understanding, "no wonder, you guys were being so weird just now."
Chris scoffed, "what weird?"
You turned around in your chair, pretending to pick up your bag, "stop, you're making it worse," you murmured so he could hear you, making him bring his glass of water to his lips.
One of your girl friends had spoken up, halfway through the meal, "wait, i just realised. If you guys work in the same office, then you must know her boss right? That dude is crazy. We all thought it was a miracle that she could take time off for the wedding,"
You glared at your friend, trying to subtly shake your head in your attempt to stop her, but she was oblivious, "she doesn't like it when we badmouth him but it's true! Ever since she started working for him it's like her social life just disappeared. Her boss is always her first priority."
You'd never related more to how people said they wished the ground would swallow you whole. Looking down at your food, you'd tried to remain nonchalant about it, but Chris who was next to you was looking at your friend with wide eyes.
"Oh, really? What else does she say about him?"
You laughed nervously, waving your hands in dismissal, "nothing that concerns you."
Chris turned to you, dropping his volume to a murmur, "is that so? because i'm hearing all this and i'm getting the feeling it definitely concerns me."
You let out a huff of anxious laughter, bringing your glass to your lips, consuming your drink in sips because your boss was sitting next to you, but secretly wishing you could down it all in one go.
Soon enough, all your anxious sipping had made you reach an empty glass, the waiter coming over to refill it for you, earning an eyebrow raise from Chris.
"Leave me alone," you huffed.
Chris simply laughed, "what? I didn't say anything."
You'd tried to pay attention to the proceedings of the wedding rehearsal, and after dessert was served people had started to mingle around more, the drinks having started to kick in as you'd felt a lot more relaxed.
It was safe to say Eujin was as well, going around to talk to the guests and thank them for coming out of town for the celebrations.
Soon enough, you were almost done with your fourth glass, oblivious to the way Chris was looking at you, impressed yet concerned. Feeling skinny arms drape over your shoulders, you turned your head to see none other than Eujin, cooing at you affectionately.
"Tell your boss a huge thank you for letting you have this weekend. I couldn't even get to see you on my birthday or for the engagement party, but i'm so so glad you're here now."
You couldn't help but glance at Chris, knowing that you'd missed both of those events because you were helping him with something. The first being when he'd almost overworked himself enough to warrant a visit to the hospital since he hadn't been sleeping or eating well (after that, you swore you'd make sure this man was getting his three meals if you could help it), and the second time being when you had to accompany him to a keynote session out of town.
You were starting to think maybe there was a little more to unpack behind your reasons why you stayed working for Chris Bang. Your only consolation at this point of time being that the rehearsal dinner was ending soon, meaning that you could finally escape the suffocating tension you were feeling.
"Wanna hitch a ride back together? I drove here."
You'd almost declined, feeling as if you didn't have a right to be in his car if it wasn't work-related. Chris had seemed to sense your hesitation, simply not waiting for a reply and walking off, hoping his smile wasn't too obvious when he'd heard you jogging to meet his pace.
He'd surprised you even more when he'd opened the passenger door for you, shutting it gently after you'd gotten in.
You'd given in to the comfort of his car almost immediately, more-so when Chris had gone to take something from the boot of his car, getting into the driver's seat and draping the soft blanket over your lap.
"The drive back's pretty long, might wanna make yourself comfortable."
And you were comfortable, very comfortable. Chris had started to play some music from his playlist, something about his behaviour almost making you forget that he was the same boss that had worked you to the bone for over a year.
"I'm sorry," you suddenly spoke, once you were in the city, "about what my friends said," you weren't sure where all your courage was coming from, maybe it was the many glasses of wine, but whatever it was, it was putting Chris in an awfully reflective mood.
"And what I said," you added as an afterthought.
Chris took his lower lip between his teeth, shaking his head, “nah, don’t worry about it.”
Obviously, that seemed too good to be true, and you’d looked over at his expression in your attempt to figure out if he was being sincere. He was definitely gonna fire you.
“I’m not gonna fire you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m just kind of…like, you know, wondering,” he began, “the uh… engagement party and the birthday party that you um… you know, that you missed. Were they both because of me?”
You pursed your lips, nodding, “but it wasn’t your fault, you know. The first one was when you’d passed out… you know, at the office, remember?”
He nodded, prompting you to continue, “the next one was a keynote session that I had to follow you to.”
Chris gulped, his throat feeling dry all of a sudden. This whole time he wouldn’t have guessed you’d been giving up these things for him from how willing you’d seemed to work. Was this considered neglecting the needs of my employee? Probably. But whatever it was, Chris knew that he was being harsh on you more for his own sake than yours, but he was only starting to realise now that that might not have been such a good tactic.
Chris was already pulling into the hotel, stopping at the valet services as you’d slung your bag over your shoulder, Chris coming out to open your door for you, making you grimace, feeling as though you should've been the one to open it for him.
Walking into the hotel lobby, you'd glanced at your phone, seeing as Eujin had texted you tomorrow's plans, "did you get the schedule for tomorrow? I can forward it to you-"
Chris let a giggle escape him, nodding, "you know they would've sent it to me too, right?"
Your lips parted in realisation, nodding as you went over to press the lift button before he could even reach over to do so, "right, forgot."
You were sure it was something about your intoxicated state that was making you instinctively go into work mode, whatever relaxation you thought you would be getting on this weekend now seeming all too far from reach.
"Uh... I can check what time the hotel serves breakfast and arrange for something to be sent to your room if you want-"
"Y/N," his tone was enough to make you straighten up, goosebumps rising on your skin for some reason.
Chris was looking at you in amusement, one hand shoved into his pocket, "you're not working, remember? This is your rest weekend."
Your eyebrows knit in a frown, chewing on your lip as you averted your gaze, "I know but it's just... like I didn't expect to see you here and now that you are I can't help but feel like I'm at work or something," you'd turned to wonder what was taking the elevator so long, watching as the numbers had gone lower and lower, completely skipping your floor and heading to the carpark.
"You know what? How about this," he began, pausing momentarily when you heard the elevator ding, stepping inside the empty elevator and pushing your floor button, your heart almost stopping when he hadn't made to press any button.
"You're on the 14th floor too?" He nodded.
"Anyway, as I was saying. To make things easier for you, let's just pretend we don't know each other, that i'm not your boss, you're not my secretary. We're just... two people that met at a wedding? You don't have to do anything for me as long as we're here, hmm?" he offered, seeming to sense your hesitance
"Look, I'll go first," he stretched his hand out as if to ask for a handshake, "hello, nice to meet you, i'm Chan."
"Chan?"
He nodded, "my friends call me Chan. People only call me Chris at work."
You'd brought your hand up slowly, grasping his in yours, the cold metal of his rings against your skin more obvious when he'd given your hand a small squeeze.
"Nice to meet you, Chan. I'm Y/N?" you tried, looking at him for approval and earning a nod from him, trying your best to ignore the way he was smiling.
"Yes, that's your name," he laughed.
Letting go of his hand, you were thankful the elevator had reached your floor without any interruptions, realising just how lucky you were to have not bumped into him earlier on as he'd continued walking with you to your room, gesturing to the door opposite your room with wide eyes.
"My room's here."
You made to take out your hotel room key, hearing him clear his throat, and you'd turned around rapidly to face him, strangely eager to know what he was about to say.
"Say, Y/N, I'd love to, you know, get to know you more. What do you think about getting brunch with me tomorrow?”
You opened and closed your mouth for lack of a response. This was inappropriate, right? But then again, you weren’t working this weekend. And technically, in this situation, Chan wasn’t your boss. So, there was nothing to lose.
You nodded, “Yeah. That sounds…nice.”
===
“Sounds kind of suspicious if you asked me,” you heard Seungmin’s voice over the speaker, making you sigh. You were already ready, lounging on your bed as if to mentally prepare yourself for a stupid lunch.
“Right? I don’t know what he’s trying to get out of this.”
Seungmin knew. But it’s not as if he was going to tell you, no, that was Chan’s job not his. Frankly, he’d had enough of listening to the both of you whine about your apparent personal vendetta against each other. He watched his fair share of movies, Seungmin knew how these things worked.
“Maybe it’ll give you a chance to actually talk to each other like normal human beings instead of just bickering all the time for no reason.”
“I have a reason, I’ll have you know.”
Seungmin scoffed, “really? Enlighten me, then.”
You’d fumbled for a reason, stuttering in your failure to find something that validated your annoyance towards Chan.
“I don’t know, his dimples are stupid.”
Seungmin wanted to laugh, “so you’re telling me, you just can’t stand him because of his stupid dimples?”
Your attention was diverted when you’d felt your phone vibrate, signalling an incoming text from Chan.
boss
11:20am -meet u outside your hotel room in 10?-
“Shit, he wants to meet me in 10 minutes.”
Seungmin shrugged, “10 minutes is more than enough time for you to come up with a less shitty reason why you don’t like him. Or for you to realise that you don’t actually hate him.”
You scoffed, burying your face into your sheets as you thought of a reason.
“Okay, I’ve got it. I just don’t like how he treats everyone so nicely and then treats me like I’m some incompetent kid.”
“You know for a fact he doesn’t think you’re incompetent. He literally trusts you more than he does the other staff.”
You scoffed, “yeah, whatever. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s so condescending about it, he thinks of me i’m some kid that doesn’t know anything.”
Seungmin snorted, remembering the incident where Chan had asked him to tell you to button up your blouse after the directors behaviour during a meeting.
“Oh, he definitely doesn’t see you as a kid,” Seungmin cackled, earning an eye roll from you.
Glancing at the time, you saw how it was almost 11:30, “okay, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”
Ending the call, you’d slung your small bag around your shoulder, giving one last glance at your appearance in the mirror in the bathroom before leaving your hotel room, startling when you’d spotted Chan there.
Dressed in a black pullover and jeans, Chan smiled at you, bringing a hand up to touch his ear, “morning,” he greeted.
“Good morning,” you huffed nervously.
He’d already begun walking, making you follow beside him, “did you get a good sleep?”
His eyebrows raised at your question, nodding at you. His hair was curlier than usual, not styled up like you usually saw. “you?”
You nodded, following him in silence as you’d gone down the list, realising he’d pressed the ground floor instead of where they were serving food on the 3rd floor.
“You pressed the wrong floor,” you began, not expecting to see the pleading smile on his face.
“Actually, I was thinking of bringing you to this place nearby, I’ve been there before and it’s pretty good.”
Your first thought was to wonder if it was expensive, knowing that this time you didn’t have the company card to fall back on.
“Is it expensive?” You asked, seeing him shrug.
“Not really.”
Only when you’d reached the area did you realise how much of an understatement Chan made. The restaurant was a small cozy-looking place that served food that you’d only heard of up till now, located along a line of boutiques selling unusual trinkets and handmade items.
Upon reaching, you and Chan had been led up upstairs to an outdoor seating area of the restaurant, the view of the scenery accompanied with the breeze instantly putting you in a relaxed mood.
“Do you like it?” He asked, almost sounding nervous.
Nodding reassuringly, you’d wanted to run away when you saw the way he’d walked over to where you were, pulling your chair out for you to sit on, making you flush. Never in your life would you have thought your boss would be pulling out your chair for you.
“You know, you don’t have to do that,” you told him, using the menu to hide your face from view, pulling it down slightly to watch how he’d rest his forearm on the table, scanning through the menu with a smirk on his face, his (stupid) dimples appearing on his cheeks.
“I wanted to. You’d never let me do it for you on any other occasion.”
You had to admit that there was some truth to what you were saying, choosing to change the subject by telling him you’d decided on what you wanted to eat, choosing something that was still within your budget for the weekend.
Beckoning the waiter over, Chan pushed his sleeves up to his elbows as he ordered for the both of you, the waiter asking what drinks you would want, a teasing smile on Chan’s face when you’d insisted on water.
“What?” You scoffed, earning a shake of the head from him.
“Nothing.”
You’d leant back in your seat, about to tie your hair up into a ponytail, hearing the buzzing of your phone, reading the caller id to see that it was your mom trying to video call you.
Sitting up quickly, you were about to excuse yourself when Chan had reached over, swiping to answer the call as he lifted the phone, pointing it towards you, his other hand beckoning for you to continue.
“Hey, mom,” you spoke through gritted teeth, your rubber band between your teeth as you worked quickly to bunch your hair into a ponytail, Chan wanting to slap himself with how his ears had started to feel hot.
“Hey, honey. Where are you? I called the office but they said you were on leave?”
You secured your hair, taking the phone from Chan with a grateful murmur of ‘thanks’, making your mother’s eyes narrow, “who are you with?”
“I’m attending Eujin’s wedding this weekend. I’m just uh…with a friend.”
Chan looked away to clear his throat, catching your mom’s attention, “guy? I thought you told me you weren’t dating anyone.”
This had caught Chan’s attention, having remembered Seungmin telling him that you’d broken up with your boyfriend.
“No, yeah, mom it’s just a friend. Can I call you later?”
Your mom’s eyebrows lifted, looking at you with a cheeky smile on her face, “oh, oh. Yes, of course you can. Have fun, baby.”
You hung up quickly, shoving your phone back into your bag, looking up at Chan in question as to why he looked so surprised.
“Your mom doesn’t know you have a boyfriend?” He asked, as if wanting that confirmation for himself, not feeling comfortable with pursuing his feelings if you were still in a relationship.
You shook your head, “no uh…I broke up with my boyfriend a long time ago.”
Chan’s lips pursed, nodding, “oh… sorry.”
You shook your head, not being able to help a breathy laugh from leaving you, “don’t be. He was…it was for the best.”
“D’you mind if I ask why? You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to, I’m just kind of…curious.”
You shrugged, not feeling as inclined to hide the information, since it was in the past now.
“Nah he just… our schedules always clashed and I was always too tired by the end of the day to go out to find him and I guess it like, you know, sort of reached a point where I started prioritising my work and it didn’t work out.”
Chan nodded slowly, the waiter coming over to serve you your food, “go ahead, you can start eating first.”
You shook your head, insisting on waiting for his food to arrive before starting. “But I’m honestly fine now, it’s been more than a year since we broke up.”
Chan huffed in amusement, “is that why you said you can’t stand dating workaholics?”
Your giggles bubbled out of you, “honestly, I only said that to spite you. I’d much rather date someone that understands my schedule and reaches a compromise with me instead of just always expecting me to drop everything at their beck and call.”
Chan nodded, “I get that. Yeah, work is important and all but… I feel like if you really loved someone you’d find any moment you could to be with them. Well, for me at least.”
You laughed, “kind of hard, when we spend almost every waking moment with each other.”
You’d looked up from your food when Chan hadn’t responded, the waiter finally coming over to serve his food, though his expression remained, looking at you as though he’d wanted to say something.
“yeah,” he huffed eventually, starting to eat his food.
You’d shocked yourself with how comfortable you were in his presence with the knowledge that you weren’t working. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? To have Chris treat you nicely like how he did the other employees. Only now you were realising how easy it was to catch feelings for him just from this one change.
Maybe you were kind of thankful he made it easier for you to hate him previously.
It was true that you understood him better than most, and that he understood you as well, knowing what got on your nerves and what didn’t, how you worked and how you responded to things. Albeit there were a few things he still didn’t understand, you couldn’t deny that Chan was well-liked in the office for a reason, and you were beginning to experience that reason for yourself.
Chris had been mulling over what his mother had told him about you, wondering if you were feeling the same tension that he was even as you talked about pointless things that made you wonder why you hadn’t talked about them sooner.
Not that it was a bad kind of tension (or maybe it was), but it was akin to the feeling of knowing that you would both have to confront a realisation soon.
“Are you doing anything tonight?” He asked as you were heading back to the car, earning a shrug from you.
“My friends wanted to have some kind of girls night thing, you?”
He sighed, nodding, “same, the guys and I are going out for drinks.”
You shot him a look, “drinks?”
He laughed, shaking his head, “I can hold my alcohol, I just choose not to drink.”
Your eyes widened, “and I’m only finding this out now because? Do you remember when I had to drink your drinks for you during the first networking session because you lied to me and told me you couldn’t drink that!”
Chan flushed, “I wasn’t lying, technically. I really couldn’t drink that, I don’t like white wine.”
You shot him a harmless glare, this time, letting him open the door for you as you got into the passenger’s seat.
“Don’t drink too much tonight, yeah?” He gave you an amused huff as he started the engine of the car.
“You too,” you held your pinky out for him to make a promise.
Chan nodded, linking his pinky with yours as he leaned closer to you, “deal.”
===
You’d heard the sound of beeping at your door that night, wondering what all the ruckus was all about, getting out of bed, taking your hotel room key and pausing the show you were watching on your phone, making your way over to your door carefully.
“Why isn’t the card working?” You heard a tell-tale Australian accent muffled through the door, looking through the peephole to see a head of messy brown hair, looking as though Chan was leaning against the door.
Opening the door slowly, you’d acted quickly to grab Chan by the shoulders to steady him before he could stumble forward, the confused boy holding up his hotel key and looking at you in confusion.
“This isn’t my room?”
You couldn’t help but laugh, turning him around as you’d ushered him a few steps forward to his hotel room door, “this,” you pointed at the door, “is your room, Chan.”
He giggled, “you called me ‘Chan’.”
Taking his hand, you scanned his hotel key, bringing him into his room, finding it awfully neat (unlike yours), smoothly guiding him to his bed and letting him flop onto it.
Letting out a sigh, you couldn’t help but to feel rather endeared, seeing him open his eyes slowly to look at you, tilting his head.
“Sorry, I promised I wouldn’t drink so much.”
You shook your head, reaching over him to grab at his blanket, your movements ceasing abruptly when you’d felt his hand on your back as you hovered over him, his hand moving from your back to your head, patting it gently.
Pulling the blanket up harshly in your panic to cover him, straightening up as quickly as you could.
“Shut up, go to sleep. Goodnight,” you said, hurriedly exiting the hotel room and going back to your room, closing the door behind you and trying to calm your rapid heartbeat.
The next time you’d seen him was at the hotel lobby, where you’d agreed to meet him so you could head to the wedding venue together. Chan had come down wearing a nice suit, something you were more used to seeing him in, his hair styled up in a familiar manner.
Greeting each other, you’d both decided to pretend the night before hadn’t occurred. With you being one of the bridesmaids and Chan being one of the groomsmen, you were separated almost immediately upon reaching the venue, with him having to help his friend while you helped Eujin.
“A little birdie told me you came together with Chan,” she sing-songed.
You scoffed, “aren’t brides usually supposed to be freaking out by now?”
“Don’t change the topic! So, did you guys hang out yesterday?”
You shrugged, “yeah, I guess we did.”
She narrowed her eyes at you, “so? Is there a verdict?”
You went behind her to take her bouquet, handing it to her as you waved her off in dismissal.
“Too early to tell,” you lied.
“Stop avoiding the question! Or else I’ll just have to ask Chan myself,” she huffed sulkily, making your eyes widen.
“No, don’t do that! Okay, fine. It’s good. He’s nice.”
Even Eujin’s makeup artist was giving you a knowing look now, making you cower under their gaze.
“Shut up, focus on your wedding, please.”
You wished you could’ve done some focusing for yourself, with Chan’s friends nudging him when you’d gone to the back of the church to line up with the groomsmen, all of them seeming to have conspired to let you walk with Chan.
“Why do you look more nervous than the bride?” He teased, holding his arm out for you to take, making you roll your eyes, bringing your hand up to grasp his arm.
“You’re delusional.”
Okay, maybe he wasn’t. You wished you could’ve taken your advice, having been distracted throughout almost the entire ceremony, your gaze constantly flickering over to Chan, and you were sure he’d noticed too, with the way he would smirk and avert his gaze to the floor in his attempt to stop himself from laughing.
Shouldn’t he be the one that was nervous? He was the one that had shown up drunk at your hotel room.
After the ceremony had ended and you were all done taking photos with the bride and groom, Chan had offered you a ride to the reception venue, and you’d accepted, not knowing that you would’ve had to squeeze in a car full of his friends too.
Sitting at the passenger’s seat (thankfully), you’d prayed for the ride to be shorter as his friends had started to question you and Chan.
“Is there something going on with you two?”
“None of your business,” Chan sing-songed, only serving to spur his friends on even more, your eyes widening when you’d heard one of his friends murmur.
“Wait, but didn’t he say he had a thing for his secretary?”
Your hand went up to cover your mouth as discreetly as you could, clutching the bag of your wedding gift for Eujin and her husband and looking out of the window in your attempt to keep your composure.
Chan had seemed to share your sentiments, his eyes widening as he panicked behind the steering wheel, his mind racing with things he could possibly do to prevent you from hearing what his friends were so freely spouting.
“Oh, did he? Then there can’t be anything going on with her, right?”
Chan had reached over to turn the volume of the music up, much to your fortune, not knowing if you would’ve been able to handle hearing them talk more about Chan’s love life.
Eujin wasn’t kidding when she said that she’d make you and Chan sit next to each other, and you’d ended up at a table with Chan nearer to the front, with a few of your friends and their partners. Watching Eujin and her husband enter the hall, you’d been filled with excitement at how happy she had looked, clapping and cheering for them along with the rest of the guests.
Once they were seated, Eujin and her husband had begun to make their own speeches, thanking the respective groups of people for coming, and you didn’t miss her pointed mention of how she hoped the guests would use this time to get to know each other as well.
The way Eujin had done things was that dinner was served so that the guests could listen to the speeches and enjoy their meals at the same time, which you didn’t mind since you were absolutely starving.
You didn’t miss the way Chan had been subtly looking out for you during the dinner, like how he would casually ask if you needed anything whenever he would get up to go to the bar, or how he’d brushed your hair behind your ear so it wouldn’t get into your food (not without a tut of his tongue), earning many surprised looks from your friends which he was oblivious to.
You figured he was really making use of the ‘let’s pretend we don’t know each other’ thing as an excuse to be nice to you, not that you were complaining.
You glanced at your phone, skimming over the texts that one of the intern secretaries had sent you to ask you for help, making your friend curious.
“Is that your boss?”
You shook your head, “nah it’s just one of the interns asking me for help with something,” you shrugged, setting your utensils down as you swiped into your email app, ready to clarify the problem for her, making Chan furrow his eyebrows in annoyance.
Reaching over, he’d taken your phone from you, locking it and dropping it back into your bag, ignoring your look of confusion.
“Hey, I was just gonna email her!”
“They’re not supposed to be asking you to do things for them while you’re on leave. No working, this is your rest weekend.”
You’d shut your mouth at that, deciding that it wouldn’t do you any well to go against him, wanting to pull your phone out to just read the emails but dropping your phone back when you saw the look he gave you daring you to continue.
Your friend had seemed to be fairly amused by your exchange, shooting a look at Chan, “wow, now I’m really glad you’re here. You’re the only one so far that’s managed to stop her from checking on her work when she’s supposed to be resting.”
You scoffed. Yeah, because the source of your work was sitting right next to you in a stupid suit.
“Good to know,” he gave you a knowing smile, making you direct your attention back the waiters, seeing that they were serving desserts now.
“Your friends make me sound like i’m a hard-ass,” he leaned closer to you to murmur, making you smile, nodding.
“Well, they’re not entirely wrong,” you drawled, making Chan scoff, though not being able to help the laugh from leaving him.
He nodded slowly, his expression looking fairly amused, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
You wondered just for a moment if he was only being nice to you for the sake of his own conscience (though Seungmin would beg to differ). And by the late afternoon, you were already starting to feel drowsy from the afternoon weather, the skies darkening as though it were about to rain. Chan had figured it would be good to start heading back.
After you’d bid goodbye to Eujin, who seemed more than eager for you to leave together with Chan, Chan had offered to drive a few of his friends back to the hotel together with you, and thankfully this time they hadn’t mentioned anything about his love life.
“Tired?” Chan huffed with a smile, glancing at you momentarily before fixing his gaze back on the road.
“Yeah,” you murmured, yawning.
“You should get some sleep when you get back to the hotel.”
You nodded, “you too.”
Chan nodded patronisingly, earning a huff from you, too tired to bicker with him. something in him stirring at how he could’ve been acting like this with you a lot earlier if he wasn’t always masking his concern with rude phrasing.
His mom sure was gonna be excited the next time he updates her.
===
You hadn’t gotten as much of a rejuvenating sleep as you would’ve liked, reality having kicked in that you were back to work tomorrow, the feeling lingering unsettlingly in your chest as you tried to make the most of the rest of your night. Somehow, you’d found your way to the lounge in the hotel, though that didn’t help much in lessening your dread for tomorrow seeing as the only other people here were people working on their laptops.
You figured it was not so much of dreading work than dreading Chan’s change in personality once he went back to being your boss.
Letting your head rest on the stiff cushion of the chair you were sitting on, you’d fiddled with your phone, texting Seungmin about what had happened today.
You’d almost startled in your seat when you saw someone take a seat next to you, turning to see Chan, his tie long gone as his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his hair already falling out of place as he simply looked at you.
Raising your eyebrows in a silent question as to ask why he was here, he scoffed, looking away from you but failing to hide the reddening of his ears, “shut up, I just didn’t feel like sitting with a stranger.”
You huffed in amusement, “did you take a nap?”
Chan shook his head, “nah, just finished a conference call.”
Your eyes widened, “wait, why didn’t you tell me? I was doing nothing this whole time—“
Chan shook his head in dismissal, “you were tired. I told you, this is your rest time, I’m not allowed to touch it.”
You frowned, your mind racing with thoughts on how tomorrow could possibly go, looking at the carpet with a hint of a pout on your face, “yeah, and then tomorrow, everything goes back to normal.”
Chan inhaled deeply, leaning back in his seat as he turned his head to look at you, his hands clasped and resting on his lap.
“It doesn’t have to, you know… like…” he shrugged, “if you don’t want it to.”
Your lips parted, unsure how to respond to the implications of his words, unsure how to even process his words.
“It’d be… unprofessional for me to continue to act like… this towards my boss.”
Chan raised an eyebrow at you, shrugging, looking at you with an unreadable expression.
“I think I’m way past being professional already when it comes to you.”
You’d sworn the air had felt thicker, something about the way the night mood had felt, or how the music in the lounge had succeeded in relaxing you, but something inside of you was telling you to just do it, to lean forward and kiss him. And probably promptly resign the next day out of embarrassment.
You stood up quickly, “oh, I think my cab’s here, I have to go,” you lied blatantly, Chan not making any move to stop you, simply lifting a hand to wave you off with a tired smile on his face.
“Go, go. See you at work tomorrow.”
===
“Can’t we ask Y/N to ask him?” The secretaries and interns were currently huddled in the pantry, having gathered to discuss how great it would be to have a field day soon.
“But Y/N’s equally as scary as him!” One of the interns spoke up, making the secretaries hum thoughtfully.
You’d stepped into the pantry, walking through the secretaries to retrieve a juice packet for Chan.
“Hey, what’s up?” You asked, one of the secretaries turning to you with a resolute look on her face.
“Y/N, do you think you could um… like, you know, ask President Bang if we could arrange for a team outing soon? Like a field day or something, just as a break for the staff. We haven’t had one in so long!”
You tilted your head at them in amusement, “why don’t you guys just ask him? He’s in his office now, I can go tell him you guys wan—“
“No, no! It’s different, you’re the only one that can convince him. We tried last month but he’d just told us he’d think about it.”
You shrugged, nodding, “alright, sure. I’ll go and ask him.”
Making your way back to his office, you’d tried to ignore your nerves as you knocked on the door, opening it to reveal Chan who was on the phone, holding up a finger to you to signal you to wait.
Walking over to him, you’d placed the juice packet on his desk in front of him, earning a smile and a grateful nod from him, before he’d switched back to a serious expression.
“No, yes, of course. We would want nothing more than to ensure a… mutually beneficial agreement between our companies.”
You didn’t have to ask to know who he was talking to. Chan had been trying to negotiate a deal with one of the shareholders, since they had been trying to propose to get Chan to merge with another prominent electronics company in the industry.
You knew Chan was more than annoyed, but he had no choice but to be civil with the president of the company since they did have many shares in the company from the time his uncle was in charge.
“Yes, we can discuss this more in person over lunch, how does that sound? Yep. Alright, bye.” Chan sighed, setting the phone down and leaning his palms on the table, supporting himself with a pained look on his face, looking up at you with a pout.
“I really don’t like him.”
Chan sighed, “same here.”
“Anyway, I’m glad you came here, I kind of wanted to talk to you about something.”
“What?” You asked, watching as he’d fiddled with the papers on his desk.
“Uh… I won’t ask you to handle things outside of work for me anymore.”
Your eyes widened, “is this because of what my friends said? Because I’m honestly fine it doesn’t matter,” you shook your head, seeing him scrunch his nose.
“It may not matter to you but I’m personally not fine with it,” he pressed his lips together. “Really, I mean it. Whatever I ask you to help me with from here on is only gonna be work-related.”
You nodded. Was he trying to distance himself from me? Was it because of the trip?
Your lips pulled into a frown, nodding more to yourself than to him, “okay…uh anyway I wanted to ask you um… the secretaries were wondering if we could have like a field day or something soon? Like just as a small break for the staff?”
Chan shot you a look, knowing they’d asked you to ask him.
“Do you want that?” He asked, earning a nod from you.
“Yeah, I guess. It’d be fun to just have a day for staff bonding and all…”
Chan shrugged, “alright, tell them to go ahead and arrange it.”
Your eyes widened, finding the exchange to have went a lot more smoother than expected.
“Will you be needing me for anything else?”
He looked at you as if in thought, taking his lower lip between his teeth and letting it go, shaking his head, “other than to help me book an appointment with President Kim, nothing else.”
You nodded slowly, exiting the room.
By only asking you for work-related things, you’d expected your work-load to decrease, but it seemed as though you were currently having the most uneventful day you’d ever had. Other than drafting proposals for the President of the electronics company, there wasn’t much on your plate.
You’d figured you would’ve been a lot busier tending to Chan’s requests but the boy had barely come out of his office, the only times he did being to head to the washroom, barely casting a glance in your direction when he walked past you.
As if that wasn’t strange enough, he’d even let you have a longer lunch break, much to Seungmin’s amusement.
“Doesn’t being in the legal team sound a lot more enticing now? At least you’d be doing something there.”
You rolled your eyes, “I still have quite a bit of research to do, so no thank you.”
“Admit it, you’re only staying because you can’t bear to leave Chan.”
You’d almost choked on your drink, patting your chest to regain your composure, “where the hell did you get that idea from?”
Seungmin scoffed, “you act like you didn’t call me a thousand times during the trip to tell me about things he did.”
You’d fallen silent at that, averting your gaze.
“Whatever,” you scoffed.
“Isn’t it misconduct, though? If I were to date him.”
Seungmin shook his head with an amused snort leaving him, “what are we in, the stone ages? Go wild, literally nobody cares. They’ll probably be happy if you manage to get him to be less of a hard-ass,” Seungmin told you, glancing into his cup to see how much drink he had left, “god knows when was the last time he got laid.”
You flushed, shoving Seungmin, “how can you say that?”
“What? It’s true!”
You gave him a dismayed glare, standing up with a sigh as you straightened out your skirt, glancing at the time on your phone.
“I should probably be heading back now, I’ve got work to do,” you gave Seungmin a pointed look, pulling him up from the bench.
“I don’t wanna go back to work,” Seungmin let out a loud strangled sound of protest, his shoes stomping on the wooden panelled floor of the rooftop.
You giggled, a teasing smile on your face, “weren’t you the one saying the legal team was what again? Enticing?”
Seungmin pouted, pressing the elevator button, abruptly flailing his limbs in a mini outburst before straightening up and composing himself.
“Fine, I’m fine. Enjoy your stupid office romance with Chan.”
You rolled your eyes.
Chan had a consultation with the legal team later that afternoon regarding the issue with the shareholder, and you’d been all-too-distracted during the meeting as you thought about what your possible ‘action-plan’ regarding your situation with Chan was.
Taking down notes during the meeting, you’d let your train of thought wander, almost doodling onto your notebook, with one hand supporting your head on the table before you heard the legal advisor from the shareholder’s side speak up, a guttural groan leaving him.
Looking up with an annoyed furrow of your eyebrows, you heard him lean back in his chair, “what does a man need to do to get a drink around here?”
“You,” the man pointed a finger at you, “go and make yourself useful, sweetheart. Get me a cup of coffee.”
Chan’s eyebrows knit into a frown, looking at the legal consultant with clear disdain on his face, looking at you to gauge your reaction. Already expecting you to do what you always did, get up with a smile and come back with the man’s coffee, Chan figured he was too annoyed by it to let you do just that.
About to speak up to the man, you'd shocked Chan when you narrowed your eyes at him, giving him a sweet smile, "sorry, that's not my job here. Since you're not contributing much to the discussion, why don't you make your legs useful and head right over there and get yourself some water."
You huffed, staring him down as he glared at you, directing his gaze to Chan. "Are you just gonna let her talk to me like that? I'd fire such a rude brat if I were you. Who's your supervisor, I'm gonna make sure he hears of this."
Chan did his best to conceal his smile, simply turning his chair ever so slightly to give you a small smile, "that would be me, and I heard it loud and clear. Now, shall we continue with the meeting?"
===
You’d been spending hours at your desk, distractedly doing research as you’d kept trying to peep into Chan’s office to figure out what he was doing, to no avail. (Chan had put the blinds down halfway through the day since he couldn’t stop staring outside at your desk either).
You were technically done with your work, and Chan did mention that you were free to go home once you were done. On any other occasion this would have been considered a miracle, and you wouldn’t have hesitated to go home. But now, there was a nagging feeling in your heart that you couldn’t just leave him here, especially with how stressed out he was because of the business with the shareholder. You didn’t trust him not to spend the whole night here.
Glancing at the time, you saw that it was already past 10, deciding that you would give him some time to make an appearance before you left, just to make sure he was alive and breathing inside his office.
Distracting yourself with replying emails, even playing more than a few rounds of a word-search game on your phone, you figured he would’ve come out by now, but there was still not a sound coming from inside the room.
Once the clock had almost struck 11, you figured you’d might as well go in and check on him for yourself. Going over to the pantry to make a hot drink, you’d walked back to his office, your grip tight on the saucer in your anxiousness.
Inhaling deeply and breathing out with a resolute nod, you knocked on the door of his office, waiting a while only to be met with silence.
Pushing open the door slightly, you’d tried again.
“Mr Bang, is it okay if I come in?”
Upon receiving no response yet again, you’d pushed open the door fully, your eyes widening in realisation when you saw him seated at his desk, fast asleep on the chair.
Walking over to the leather sofa as quietly as you could, you’d picked up the blanket from the sofa, making your way over to where he was, setting the hot drink onto his desk and making to drape the blanket over him.
Only when you were adjusting the blanket did he stir awake, making your fight-or-flight instincts kick in, strangely embarrassed if he were to catch you doing such a gesture for him.
Blinking slowly, his eyebrows furrowed before his gaze had landed on you.
“I thought you’d gone home already?” He pouted, making you fumble to find an excuse why you’d stayed behind.
“Sorry, Mr Bang, I was—”
He gave you a lazy smile, shaking his head, “none of that ‘Mr Bang’, nonsense. How come you haven’t left yet?”
You pressed your lips together firmly, pulling your hands away from the blanket as you tried to straighten up, sighing softly.
“I couldn’t leave… for some reason. I kind of wanted to make sure you were okay, since I barely saw you the whole day.”
Chan’s satisfied smile had grew, nodding at you as if prompting you to continue.
“but I’ll go soon. I guess,” you blurted, “unless like you know, you need me for something, then I’m fine with staying.” You stopped yourself, nodding before you could embarrass yourself any further.
You couldn’t help but let your breath hitch when he’d reached out to grab your hand.
“Thank you, for checking up on me,” he murmured, his close proximity making your gaze dart to his lips, averting your gaze quickly.
“Did you not come out of your office on purpose?” You narrowed your eyes at him, hating the way your heart was doing flips at the way he grinned, his dimples showing cutely.
You were about to pull back out of your own internal panic, but Chan’s grip on your hand was firm.
“I’m sorry, I know I said I wouldn’t ask you for anything that wasn’t work related from now on. But It’s killing me, because you were sitting outside the whole day and I couldn’t do anything about it…” he paused, tilting his head as he searched your expression.
“You can refuse, but I just need you to do one little thing for me,” he murmured, pulling you forward so you’d ended up seated on his lap, your arms going out to grasp his shoulders to steady yourself.
“What do you need me to do?” You asked, your voice a mere murmur with how the tension was absolutely suffocating you, wanting nothing more than to just close the gap between the both of you.
Chan’s hand went up to your chin, running his thumb over your lower lip as they unconsciously parted, “close your eyes.”
Chan couldn’t help but smirk at the way you’d done so obediently, his hand going to where your neck met your jaw, leaning closer to press his lips against yours.
Almost as if it was second nature, he’d let his other hand grasp your hip, his thumb rubbing the area soothingly. Tilting his head to kiss you deeper, you’d practically sighed into the kiss, your hands wrapping around his neck loosely as you felt him smile into the kiss.
“I’m glad it’s you,” he murmured against your lips, his tongue swiping against your lower lip making you let out a surprised hum, not being able to help your smile as well.
“We should stop,” you pulled away, breathless.
“Why?”
You shook your head, “I could kiss you for hours. It’s already so close to midnight.”
Chan glanced at the clock apathetically, looking at you and shrugging, his hand running up and down your side.
“So be it, then,” he said, pulling you back to meet his lips.
===
“Is it just me, or has President Bang been a lot less moody these days,” Seungmin heard one of his colleagues in the legal team asking her desk-mate, making her colleague nod gravely.
The mention of President Bang had him glancing towards his office, spotting your desk empty and figuring you were inside his office.
“Definitely. At first I thought it was just me, but he’s been a lot less harsh to Y/N as well,” she agreed.
“Don’t you think so, Seungmin?”
And almost as if on cue, you’d exited his office, pulling your hair out of your ponytail to readjust it, looking around as if scanning the area to see if anyone had seen you.
Locking eyes with Seungmin, you shot him a wink, straightening out your blouse as you’d gone back to sit down at your desk.
Seungmin scoffed, not being able to help the smile on his face as he rolled his eyes, “yeah, I think I know why.”
#chris bang#bang chan#christopher bang#bang chan fluff#bang chan scenarios#bang chan au#stray kids#stray kids bang chan#stray kids chan#skz#skz au#skz fluff#skz scenarios#stray kids seungmin#skz seungmin#kim seungmin#enemies-to-lovers!bang chan#workplace!au#enemies to lovers#skz imagines
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Text
Something pure
Requested by: anonymous.
A/N: okay this took AGES, I’m so sorry for the wait. It also turned out longer than expected, I wanted to give a little background to the request and things got out of hand lmao. I hope you like it⭐️
Summary: Luca had never felt something so pure before, he would do anything to preserve it. Even if it means hiding his feelings from the woman he loves. Little does he know, it’s not enough to keep harm out of your way.
Warnings: mentions of violence, description of signs of physical harm, semi-nudity (no smut)
The gif is not mine, credits to the owner.
You wished you could say you knew what you were getting into when you met Luca Changretta. That you were prepared for what was coming, that you were fully aware of the risks that you were taking by being involved with a mafia man. But you couldn’t.
You were just a small-town girl who moved to New York to seek her fortune, fascinated by the myth of the life in the city, a life that until a couple of months prior you had only dreamed. You had never found yourself close to the underworld, never been in trouble; you lived a quiet life in your family home, spending your days helping your mother or reading some books under the shade of the old tree in your garden, right in front of the swing that your father had hung on the branches when you were a child. Even though you were grateful for the way your parents had raised you, you were looking for something more. You didn’t want to spend your whole life in the dull countryside, so you packed your things and moved to New York, with a suitcase in one hand and your dreams in the other.
You had started working for an Italian tailor who made suits in a basement in Mott Street, Fenacci. You had a bit of experience, you were good at what you did, it wasn’t hard for you to obtain the job.
The first time you met Luca, you didn’t know what he did for a living, what he was capable of.
You were drowning in your work, when you heard the bell on the door ring as a tall man that you had never seen before entered the shop like he owned the place. Your co-worker slightly nudged you to get your attention, leaning towards you with a cautious look on her face.
“Whatever he wants, it’s on the house” she whispered, sitting straight again to get back to work. You nodded, still confused by her strange behaviour. Taking a look around, you noticed that the room had fallen so silent that you could hear a pin drop, everyone was focusing on their work and no one dared to look at the man.
You didn’t understand why no one talked to him or asked him what he needed, nor why he just walked around the shop without asking for the help of the shop assistants. Being a naturally shy girl, it was hard for you to talk to people, so you had to gather up the courage before addressing to him. “Can I help you, sir?”
After your question, almost everyone stopped what they were doing, looking at you like you were gone crazy. You nervously fidgeted with your pencil, wondering what you did wrong.
The man, that was previously looking at some suits with his back to you, slowly turned around, clearly taken aback by the fact that someone had the nerve to talk to him. When his green eyes landed on you, you could see a hint of amusement in them.
“Are you new?” he asked with a thick accent, taking some steps towards your table. You nodded, already feeling your face becoming red with embarrassment.
“What’s your name?”
“Y/n y/l/n”
He stopped in front of you, holding back a smile at the sight of your red cheeks. It didn’t take him long to understand that you had no idea of who he was. Your awkwardness was due to your shyness, not fear. You didn’t lower your head when he walked into the shop and you weren’t afraid of talking to him.
“Thank you for your politeness, miss Y/l/n, but I’m just here to see my uncle”
You stayed silent for a while, looking closely at him. An aura of power and authority surrounded him, he looked strong and self-confident. At the same time, he also seemed polite and good-mannered and you wondered why his presence caused everyone to be so on edge. Before you could say another word, a man appeared from the door behind you, interrupting your brief conversation.
“Your uncle is waiting for you in his office, mr Changretta”
In response, he dismissed him with a gesture, turning to look at you again.
“It was nice meeting you, miss Y/l/n” he said, tipping his hat and walking towards the door that led to Fenacci’s office.
When he closed the door behind him, everyone seemed to relax a bit.
“Is he Fenacci’s nephew?” you asked your co-worker, unable to hold back your curiosity.
“Yes, on his mother’s side” she confirmed, not raising her head from what she was working on.
“So that’s why his suits are on the house”
She giggled at your naive question, shaking her head.
“Oh, sweetheart, everything’s on the house for him”
******
At the end of your shift, you gathered your things and walked out the shop eager to go home, take a hot bath and relax for the rest of the night, worn out from working all day.
You still had to get used to the chaotic streets of New York, they were nothing like the peaceful and quiet countryside. A part of you was fascinated by everything that surrounded you, you had seen more in a week than in your entire life, things that you had only heard of on the radio or read about in the newspaper. On the other side, you had to admit that you were kinda scared, you felt so small and lost in the midst of all of those buildings.
Just a few feet away from the shop, you bumped into someone, too lost in your thoughts to pay attention to where you were going.
“I’m so sorry, I....” you started to apologise, but your voice dropped when you met a pair of familiar green eyes.
“Miss Y/l/n” mr Changretta greeted you, taking off his hat “don’t worry, it’s my bad”
You stayed silent for a moment, your awkwardness was keeping you from uttering a logical sentence. He cleared his throat, thankfully breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Are you done for the day?”
“Yes” you nodded “I’m going home”
“You’re not from here, are you?” he guessed, slightly smiling at you. He had probably noticed that you walked around like a lost puppy, jumping at every loud noise and keeping a careful eye on everything that surrounded you.
“Is it that obvious?” you asked with a hint of irony in your voice, feeling your embarrassment slowly slipping away.
“Just a bit” he chuckled “I can walk you home, if you’d like” he offered.
“Thank you, but I wouldn’t want to bother you, it’s not too far from here” you said. He probably had things to do, maybe he wanted to go home and he was just asking you out of politeness. You couldn’t deny that you wouldn’t have minded some company, though, since it was dark and you didn’t know those streets very well.
“It’s no bother at all” he replied “I can’t have you waking alone at this hour of the night”
You hesitated for a moment. After all, you didn’t know this man and everyone seemed terrified by him, maybe it wasn’t the best idea. However, he had done nothing to scare you away, he had been nice and polite and something told you that he wouldn’t have hurt you. So you accepted.
He came back to the shop the following day and the day after that and all the days after. Sometimes he needed a new suit, sometimes he needed to talk with his uncle, sometimes he just kept you company for a while. Every night, he walked you home after your shift. If he had had a busy day and couldn’t make it to the shop, he made sure to at least be there when you had to go home, so that you didn’t have to walk alone. The days became weeks and the weeks became months. The first week or so, you walked at a certain distance. Then you found yourselves walking a bit closer every day, until he started offering you his arm. You enjoyed those late-night walks with Luca, you felt comfortable around him and it was a new feeling for you. As time passed by, you couldn’t help but notice the way your heart seemed to beat a bit faster when you were close to him, or the way your cheeks flushed every time the two of you casually touched. You tried your best to ignore the way you felt, you were pretty sure that he didn’t feel the same way. He was confident, and handsome, he always knew the right words to say. You were shy, clumsy and hopelessly awkward, certainly not what he was looking for.
Little did you know, the things you were insecure about were the ones that got him falling for you. He loved how easily your cheeks turned red, the way you stumbled over your words, the smile that you often tried to hide. It made you real, genuine. When you felt comfortable enough to open up to him, he fell for you even more. He found himself looking forward to see you, the time he spent with you had become the best part of his day. He couldn’t deny the calmness and comfort that took over him every time you placed your hand in the crook of his elbow, walking side by side with him. Just like you, he had no intention of confessing his feelings for you. You were nice and innocent and he didn’t want to involve you in his dangerous life. Of course, during those months you had learned about what he did and even though you didn’t push him away, he was sure that you didn’t want anything to do with that kind of things. You were just too good for someone as violent and ruthless as him. Too good to be put in danger for his selfish desire. For that reason, walking you home was enough. If it meant to see you smile, to hear you talking about your day, to see the spark in your eyes when you talked about the things you loved, it was enough. It had to be enough, because it seemed to be the only way to have you close to him without dragging you into the rabbit hole with him. You wouldn’t have found Wonderland in there.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to keep you safe.
******
For the first time in months, you were going home alone. Luca had told you the previous day that he had an important meeting to attend to outside the city and that he couldn’t be there that night. You wrapped your coat tighter around your body, the freezing air was penetrating into your bones and you couldn’t feel your hands. It was later than usual, you had stayed in the shop an extra half-hour to help your co-worker clean up the place. The streets seemed emptier and darker, but maybe it was just the absence of the man that had walked with you until that night that made you feel like that.
It didn’t matter how much you tried, you couldn’t shake off the bad feeling that you got since you walked out the shop. There was a little voice in your head telling you to wait for your friend, but you chose to go out alone, eager to get home as soon as possible.
Only you weren’t alone.
When you turned around, you saw three men walking a few feet behind you. You turned again, telling yourself that they weren’t following you, that you were just being paranoid.
But what if they were?
You decided to cross the road, to make sure that they just gave you the wrong impression.
They crossed the road, too.
You took a deep breath. It’s just a coincidence.
You crossed the road again.
They did that, too.
Fear took over you as you started to walk faster, your heart was pounding in your chest, every muscle in your body was tense. Your knees were wobbly and you weren’t sure for how long you could have relied on your legs before they gave up. You couldn’t think straight and you felt like you had completely lost control of your body as it shook uncontrollably.
Then a pair of hands grabbed you.
******
Luca was surprised not to see you at work the following day. His uncle told him that you had called to say you were sick, asking for permission to take a couple of days off. It felt odd to him, you never missed work and you seemed fine the last time he saw you. He couldn’t help but get worried, he knew you didn’t have anyone in New York and he didn’t like the fact that you were alone when you were sick, with no one there with you if things got worse.
He had no idea of how bad it actually was.
The memories of the previous night were a blur, everything happened so fast that you didn’t even know where you got the strength to get up from the dirty ground of the alley and go home.
You took a deep breath, grabbing the closest steady thing for support as you got out of the bathtub, wincing in pain. You wrapped a towel around your shivering body, rubbing your hands up and down to warm up. You hadn’t even realised that the water had turned so cold. You sat on your bed, staring at the floor, the same sentence repeated in your head again and again.
Tell your friend that this is what happens when he doesn’t comply.
These were the words that one of the men said to you, right before leaving you in that dark alley, hurting and bleeding.
You didn’t know how much time had passed when you decided to get up from the bed, probably a lot, since your hair was dry. You wore your underwear and you walked towards the mirror. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. You still hadn’t had the courage to look at the state you were in, too scared to see what they did to you. But you had to know. You slowly opened your eyes, looking at your reflection. You started by looking at your face. You had a bruise and a cut on your right cheek and a split lip; then your eyes fell on your body, that surely got it the worst. There were several blue and purple marks scattered all over the upper part of your body, a giant bruise on the left part of your ribs, you had finger marks on your wrists and arms. Your knees were skinned and your legs were full of scratches. Your eyes watered at the sight. Your body would have healed, but you couldn’t say the same for your mind. You were terrified and the scenes kept on repeating themselves in your mind. You felt weak, frail and broken and you hated it.
Your thoughts were interrupted when someone knocked on the door. You quickly put on your robe, cautiously walking towards the door, trying to push back your fear. You opened the door, immediately relaxing when you saw Luca’s familiar face. However, comfort was soon replaced by agitation, you didn’t want him to see you like that. He opened his mouth to talk, but he closed it right after his eyes fell on you. His expression changed, you couldn’t quite decipher the look in his eyes. He gently placed a had under your chin, turning your head slightly to examine your bruise.
“Who did this to you?” he asked after what seemed an eternity, letting his hand fall.
“No one, I just fell” you lied, crossing your arms over your chest and looking away from him. He entered the house, closing the door behind him.
“Tell me the truth” he demanded. His voice was firm, but it didn’t lose the hint of kindness that he only reserved to you. When you didn’t answer, he placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to look you in the eyes.
“Y/n...” he started, stopping when you winced in pain. His eyes moved to the bruise that was poking out of your robe, right under your neck. He hesitated for a moment, before moving his hand to the string of your robe, silently asking you for permission. When you nodded, he untied it, leaving you in your underwear.
He felt anger quickly building up in him as he looked at your body, clenching his jaw. The thought of someone doing that to you unleashed something violent in him, a blind rage that he wasn’t sure he could contain. However, he tried his best to hide it for your sake. You were already scared, you didn’t need to witness one of his outbursts.
“Three men followed me home last night” you admitted, still not looking at him “they told me to tell you that this is what happens when you don’t comply”
Luca should have seen that coming. He didn’t need to admit his feelings to put you in danger, just being in his life made you a target. They observed him, they had been observing him for weeks, waiting for the right moment to make their move. He made a decision and you payed the consequences. That was the reason why he didn’t want to involve you in his life in the first place, because that’s how it worked. It was the biggest unspoken rule of that wicked world: innocent people were punished for someone to achieve what they wanted. You were innocent and they hurt you. You of all people didn’t deserve it. Anger was partly replaced by guilt and remorse, as he covered your body with the robe again, enveloping your trembling frame in his arms. You wrapped your arms around his torso, pressing your head against his chest as he gently stroked your hair.
“I’m sorry” he whispered “I know it means nothing right now, it doesn’t change what happened... but I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you in this mess”
You shook your head, holding him tighter. You didn’t blame him, not even in the slightest.
“It’s not your fault-”
“It is.” he interrupted you “They did this to you to get to me. It’s how it works, they hurt people we love to get to us”
You froze for a moment, trying to understand the meaning of his words. You raised your head, looking him in the eyes in a silent request for an answer.
“I love you, Y/n. I thought that you would be safe if I didn’t tell you, but I was wrong”
He cupped your face with his hands, being careful not to hurt you by touching your bruise. “And I want to protect you, I want to keep you safe.”
Your heart fluttered at his words. After all the pain that you had experienced, it almost felt like a dream, like something that your mind had made up to bring you some comfort. But it wasn’t a dream, Luca was right in front of you, telling you what you had hoped to hear for so long. “I love you, too” you uttered.
He slowly leaned towards you, moving his hands to your waist. He closed the space between you, his lips were soft on yours, he was gentle and his touch was feather-like, almost as if he was afraid you would break if he applied more pressure. You put your hands on his face, inviting him to deepen the kiss. Everything slowly became more urgent, he pulled you even closer while you ran a hand through his hair.
“No harm will come to you ever again” he said once he pulled away, caressing your cheek “I won’t let it. I’ll keep you safe. It’s a promise”
He meant that, he had never been more serious in his life. He never thought that he could feel something so pure and genuine, that someone could bring out the tenderness in him. He would have done anything in his power to protect it, to protect you.
And you believed him, because you had never felt safer.
-
Tag list: @arwyn-the-cyrptic-bisexural @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff
#peaky blinder imagine#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders fics#luca changretta imagine#luca changretta x reader
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Hey this movie’s great and you should see it.
I mean I should write more than that because this is a review and reviews are supposed to give a bit more detail than that. So I’ll try again: Secondhand Lions is a movie about how important it is to believe in the power of love and the triumph of good over evil. Also it has Robert Duvall and Michael Caine as two crazy old men from Texas who spend their free time shooting at door-to-door salesmen.
The story is this: Walter is a kid who travels a lot with his mother Mae, and it tends to go badly because his mother often ditches him to pursue some awful boyfriend and a get-rich-quick scheme. This time she claims she’s going to school in Fort Worth to become that person who takes notes in court, so she leaves him with his two great uncles in the middle of nowhere, Hub and Garth. But Hub and Garth possess an awful lot of money, and Mae tells Walter that he should figure out where the money’s stashed and cozy up to these old guys so they might leave him their money.
Of course, these two old men are grumpy and are tired of salesmen and relatives trying to get their money. But upon realizing that Walter has a bit of a rough time with his mother and also their relatives hate him, they warm up to him and bond with him in trying to take up new hobbies, like gardening. On the way, Walter hears the story of how his great uncles got all this money to begin with, a seemingly impossible story that sounds more like a fairy tale than real life. And given all the weird versions of events, and when he’s been raised by a mother constantly lying to him, Walter doesn’t know what to believe.
Also there’s a lion. It’s kind of there. Not in the story bits, there’s actually a lion.
This is a fantastic movie? It’s not a flawless movie, but I felt that it’s pretty close after watching it a couple of times. Now that I’ve seen it four or five times I think I’ve noticed some flaws. But look, if I have to watch it that many times to really notice the flaws, that’s not so bad is it?
For instance, I think there’s a lot of talk about the adventures that the two brothers went on in their youth. But when we actually hear the stories, it seems more like it’s Hub’s adventures, and Garth occasionally helped out or witnessed them. And it’s obvious that there are plenty of adventures that we didn’t hear about, but even then it seems like it’s mostly Hub’s thing. While Garth seems like the more reasonable and restrained one in modern day, he’s also able to keep up with Hub and goes along with many of his crazier ideas as well, so it feels a bit off.
Again though, this is a nitpick born out of watching this movie a lot.
A more serious criticism is that it feels a bit like the lesson of the movie’s a tad rushed. It seems as if we just get a grip on what the McCann brothers are telling Walter, and then it’s the conclusion. His doubting the story that his great uncles told him is meant to be a larger part of his character than it ended up being, I think, so when he chooses to believe in them it’s sort of like, “Okay, but I assumed you thought that already. Your doubt was hinted at but only solidly introduced a couple of minutes ago and so I don’t feel as rewarded when you overcome it.”
In all seriousness though, this movie is fun--you get to watch two old cooky old guys not give a flying fudge about anything, especially the people they know are just talking to them for their money. Watching Robert Duvall and Michael Caine as these two is spectacular and if nothing else, you’ll get a kick from their performances.
Haley Joel Osment isn’t always perfect as Walter. I sometimes think that he overacts, especially in the beginning of the film when he first meets the McCann brothers. I get that some of the things, like them firing warning shots at door-to-door salesmen, warrants over-the-top reactions, but the kid is REALLY astounded that they have no television or phone and I didn’t think he needed to be that reactive. He overall does a good job though, and I think Walter’s sense of being overwhelmed yet still remaining hopeful despite his terrible life up to this point is well-conveyed.
[Also Christian Kane from Leverage and The Librarians is in this movie? As the young Hub McCann? Thought you should know.]
It’s hilarious, it’s heartwarming, and it’s a joy to watch. If you haven’t already, I’d track down this movie. Watch it alone, watch it with your family, but please watch it.
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Drabble: Uncle Chris, DILF in Training
Here is today’s drabble for Kinktober on the HBC blogs. This one is for @the-ce-horniest-book-club.
Today’s prompt is daddy kink.... and as soon as I saw that prompt... this idea came to me.
Title: Uncle Chris, DILF in Training
Pairing: Chris Evans x reader
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Not directly mentioned but maybe hinted at issues getting pregnant? If you are sensitive at all about pregnancy, babies, wanting to get pregnant/be a parent you might skip this one.
Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.
Whenever a friend called to see if you and Chris could watch their kids for a bit, Chris always said yes if he could. Partially because there were times he couldn’t help out, but also because he loved his nieces and nephews.
Today, the two of you had your hands full with one of his friend’s four older kids (ages 3 to 10) while he and his wife went to an appointment for their youngest, a six month old.
It was borderline too cold for the kids and Chris to be in the pool, but that didn’t stop them. He and the three oldest, all boys, were playing an aggressive game of 3 on 1 basketball in the pool. Meanwhile, you and their little sister were reading books while you soaked in the early fall sun.
“They’re crazy,” the little girl remarked as the boys shouted and laughed in the pool.
“That they are,” you agreed with a small laugh.
It was days like this where your heart ached for you and Chris to have your own family, but it hadn’t happened yet. The two of you had talked about it and had even tried, but hadn’t had any luck.
“Alright, alright!” Chris announced loudly. “I give up! You three win!”
The boys cheered and then booed when Chris told them it was time to get out of the pool.
“Hey now,” he said. “My stomach is growling and you three monkeys are growing like weeds, so I know you’re probably hungry, too.”
Glancing down at your watch, you blinked in surprise. It was already after noon and almost 1 o’clock.
“We’ll go get lunch started,” you told Chris. “The four of you should take warm showers. I can only imagine how cold that water is.”
“It’s fine once you get used to it,” the oldest boy offered.
“Auntie is right,” Chris stated. “Hit the showers, boys.”
Lunch was a noisy affair. Given the cool water that Chris and the boys had spent over an hour in, you had made soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch and Chris had ended up making a couple more sandwiches for everyone to share.
Then it was nap time, at least for little sister. She had been fine hanging out with you while the boys had been in the pool, but now she only wanted Chris. So while the boys helped you clean up the kitchen, Chris took her upstairs for her nap.
“Can we watch a movie, auntie?” One of the boys asked.
“Can you agree on one?” You countered with a knowing look. You’d experienced one of their arguments over what movie to watch before.
The brothers exchanged looks before the middle brother suggested, “Can we watch one of Uncle Chris’s movies? Maybe the Avengers?”
After getting them setup in the living room with Avengers on, you went upstairs to find out what was taking Chris so long. You found him fast asleep on one of the twin beds in the kids guest room with his niece asleep on his chest.
Not wanting to wake them, you softly closed the door. And then sighed. Chris needed to be a dad. And you needed to be a mom.
Going downstairs, you joined the boys in the living room and soon found yourself with the five year old cuddled up against you.
That was how Chris found you about thirty minutes later when he came downstairs. He joined the two of you on the couch and watched the movie with the rest of you, occasionally commenting on his own performance under his breath so only you could hear.
When his friend and his wife got back to the house, Chris wasted no time in getting their youngest, a baby girl, out of her car seat and holding her. You weren’t sure who was more enamored with the situation, Chris or his infant niece.
You found your eyes going back to the pair again and again while you spoke with the friend’s wife. You were still getting to know everyone, but they all seemed like genuinely nice people. Her especially.
When the movie ended, the friend and his family packed up and said their goodbyes. Thanking you and Chris for helping with the older kids.
You and Chris watched from the front door as they loaded everyone into the family minivan and then drove away.
“I love those kids,” Chris said as he closed the door.
“I love seeing you with those kids,” you said with a smile. “Definitely a dilf in training.”
“Dilf in training?” He raised his eyebrow.
Smiling, you took a step forward, backing him up to the front door. “Yes,” you replied. “Playing with the boys, cuddling with the little girls. Loving each of them just the way they are? It does things to me.”
“What types of things?” He asked.
“How about I just show you,” you suggested. Leaning in, you kissed him, deepening the kiss as you ran your hands down his body.
You were both panting when you pulled away and looked him in the eye. “Come upstairs it’s me,” you whispered.
“I’ll go anywhere with you,” he responded.
—————
10 months later
You came into the bedroom to find Chris on the bed with the month old twins, a boy and a girl, laying on his bare chest.
“Are they asleep?” You whispered and he nodded.
You briefly considered picking them up and putting them in their bassinets, but ultimately decided to lay down with the three of them.
“They’re almost too big to be held like this,” you whispered as watched the babies sleep like Chris.
“I know,” he said, sadness in his tone. “I both want and don’t want them to get bigger.”
You smiled and nodded in agreement. The first month had been hard with the twins, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
#theycallmebecca#theycallmebeccawrites#chris evans#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans fanfic#chris evans fan fiction#chris evans x you#chris evans x reader#chris evans x y/n#Becca writes drabbles#the ce horniest book club#HBC Kinktober '20
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Family
Leviathan x gn!MC
Words - 3215
Content warnings - angst, family issues, lots of comfort, a sprinkling of humor
Prompt/Inspiration - none
Summary - Levi learns why you didn’t want him to meet your family.
AO3
Family had always been a bit of a sore subject for Levi. He may have 6 brothers that he would have been willing to do anything for - die for, if it came to it - but he still felt like the odd one out. The black sheep.
Asmodeus had Satan. Belphie had Beel. And Lucifer was well, Lucifer. And even if Mammon was easily the most picked on of them all, he still frequently hung out with Asmo and did whatever it was that normies do when they go out.
But for Levi? He was largely just left to his own devices.
At least, that was before you came. Now that you were here, he found himself able to spend more time with his brothers. And you helped him find common ground so he could share his interests with them too. Mammon in particular had gotten a lot closer to him and hung out with him far more frequently. Levi was still the undisputed otaku in the family...but Mammon? Well, he had his moments.
When Levi found out you would be going to the human realm to visit your family, he was curious. His only experience with human families came from his anime and manga that he’d import to the Devildom, so he wanted to see how close those things were to reality. At least that’s what he told you. You were skeptical about his motives. And also concerned about the whole “meeting people” thing - but he assured you if it was just your parents, he could manage.
You initially told him that you thought it best that you go alone, but after seeing how hurt he was you quickly changed your mind. It wasn’t that you didn’t want your family to meet Levi, you weren’t trying to hide him. But you didn’t want him to meet them . They just weren’t the sort of people you wanted to spend much time with. To put it simply, it was a miracle that you turned out as well as you did.
The only reason that you were going back at all was because Lord Diavolo insisted. He thought it would be a wonderful idea. The next step in bringing harmony to the realms. The human exchange student and their demon boyfriend. You tried to explain to him that your family was not the understanding and accepting sort, but he was confident that if you could win Lucifer over, some humans shouldn’t be a problem at all. Totally ignoring the fact that you had already spent the majority of your life with these people and had not had any progress thus far.
You had tried your best to manage Levi’s expectations. You didn’t want to make him too anxious about the visit but you also didn’t want him to get caught completely off guard either. You briefly considered giving him a list of subjects to avoid, just so he didn’t draw anymore attention to himself than necessary. But you knew that wouldn’t be fair to him, and he was self conscious enough as it was - you didn’t want him thinking you were embarrassed to be seen with him.
As you pulled into the driveway of your family home, you stole a glance at Levi. He was white as a sheet and bouncing his leg up and down nervously, taking deep breaths to calm himself. You reached out and gently placed your hand on his own that was resting on his leg. He jumped a little, having gotten a bit lost in his thoughts, but soon gave your hand a squeeze in return.
“Maybe this was a bad idea…” he said.
“You really don’t have to, you know. We could just hide out in a hotel and tell Lord Diavolo everything went great…”
“No! I-I-I want to do this.”
You gave Levi a small smile. You really had to appreciate how hard he was trying. He wanted to impress you. This was supposed to be what boyfriends did, right? Visit their partner’s family? Bond with their father over drinks? Win the heart of their mother with his gentlemanly demeanor? He could do that. He was sure. He had to do it. Levi wanted to stay in your life for a long, long time, and this was the next logical step, wasn’t it?
“Alright, but if it gets to be too crazy for you, just let me know.”
He nodded, smiling back at you and giving your hand another squeeze before climbing out of the car. As you two walked hand in hand up the driveway, you started to notice that something wasn’t quite right. There was a new car in the driveway you didn’t recognize, for starters. And you heard the raised voices of a rather large group of people talking. By the time you reached the front door, you were positive there wasn’t just your parents here.
“Umm Levi, I really…” you had started to explain to him your suspicions, when the front door suddenly opened and your mother greeted you, arms open wide.
“OH MY BABY! YOU'RE HOME! I watched you walking up the driveway but I just couldn’t WAIT!”
Levi watched in horror as this woman wrapped you up in a tight hug, screeching out a greeting that made his skin crawl and his blood run cold. Why did she have to be so... loud ? It didn’t take long before she had released you and finally turned her sights on him. He gulped as he prepared for his introduction, but thankfully, she was much more reserved this time.
“Well ain’t you just the cutest thing,” she cooed, pinching his cheek, “You must be Levi, right? C’mon in the both of y’all. The family is in the backyard while Daddy is working on the grill. We’re having barbecue tonight!”
“The family…? No, Mom, you didn’t…”
“Oh hush. We haven’t seen you in forever! Of course we had to invite the rest of the family. It’s not like we ever know when we’re gonna see you again…”
For a brief, fleeting moment Levi had started to think maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Your mother was loud and shrill...but she seemed nice enough. She called him cute, after all. But when he turned to look at you after learning that the “rest” of your family had been invited, his smile started to waver. You looked like you were about to cry one minute, and then like you were ready to spit hellfire the next. For all the headaches he and his brothers had caused you - he had never seen you this upset before.
Eventually you plastered a smile on your face and accepted your fate, reminding yourself that they hadn’t done anything yet. Maybe they would behave for once and there wouldn’t be a repeat of The Holidays ‘09™️ where half your family ended up at the local urgent care clinic before the night was out because someone decided a food fight with flaming marshmallows was a good idea. (And it had quickly progressed to much more than marshmallows on fire)
You adjusted your grip on Levi’s hand, lacing your fingers together, determined to not let him get separated from you, and followed after your mother through the house. Levi gave your hand a small squeeze, in his own attempt to reassure you, because as perfect as your fake smile was, there was no hiding just how tense you were. You turned to look at him giving him a small, genuine smile before mouthing, “I’m sorry,” as you stepped outside into the yard.
————
To your great surprise, things really weren’t that bad at first. You walked around and introduced Levi to the various cousins and aunts and uncles that had arrived, and everyone had been mostly polite and courteous. He looked a little worn out, but nothing like you had imagined. You were also able to keep him safely by your side, so there weren’t any opportunities for your more mischievous family members to cause trouble. By the time the food was ready, you were starting to let your guard down a tiny bit.
And that, you would soon learn, was a grave mistake.
Your family had gathered around the large picnic table in the backyard, and lunch was being served. You had managed to get a seat near the end so Levi was not sandwiched in between you and your family members, and the rowdier of your cousins were seated at the further end, far away from the two of you. You were listening to your family chat, occasionally exchanging touches and smiles with Levi to check in with him, when the conversation suddenly shifted to you.
“So dear,” your mother started, “when are you going to get serious about getting married?”
“Pardon…?!” you choked out, as you desperately grabbed for the glass of water in front of you to clear your throat.
“Yeah hun, you’re coming to that age when you should start thinking about your family. You need to start looking for a suitable partner,” one of your aunts chimed in.
Your face flushed scarlet, and you felt your stomach flip, “I’m good. I already have a boyfriend. I’m not looking for another,” you finally managed to answer, hoping to make it sound like there was no room for argument.
Your mother, however, did not take the hint.
“Do you mean him dear? He’s very cute but he doesn’t exactly look like the responsible type.”
“Hey son, what’s it you doing for a living?”, your father asked, leveling his gaze on Levi, who had been trying to ignore the conversation.
You felt Levi flinch beside you and you shifted so you were sitting just a little bit closer to him, your legs now pressing together. Oh how much you wished you could have just grabbed him and run right now. You were so stupid for doing this. Arrogant even, for thinking things were going to be fine with you there to deflect the awkward questions.
“Dad, that’s really not something we need to talk about right now.”
“Mind your father,” your mother warned, “Let the poor boy answer.” All eyes then focused on Levi, waiting for his response.
In that moment, Levi really wished he could just turn invisible. He hadn’t taken his eyes off his own plate yet, but he could feel everyone else staring at him. He felt you shift closer to him, and while he did appreciate the reassuring touch from you, it did nothing to quell the anxiety bubbling up in his stomach.
“Umm...I’m...a...I’m a Devil...errr...YouTuber…”
“A what now?”
“A YouTuber. He makes videos of gameplay and walkthroughs, things like that. He’s really good at it too,” you explained, smiling at Levi, hoping that your little bit of encouragement would help soothe his nerves.
“Well hun, that ain’t a real job.”
“Your mother’s right. You need to find someone with a stable career that will be able to contribute to your family. You don’t want to be stuck carin’ for a mooch, like your Auntie Tammy do ya?”, your father asked, followed by snickers from your cousins at the jab towards your conspicuously absent aunt.
“I’m fine. That’s between me and Levi.”
“You can’t really be serious, dear.”
“I am.”
“Hahaha, but he looks like such a dweeb!”, cackled one of your cousins, from the very same rowdy bunch of cousins you had tried best to avoid all evening.
“Watch it,” you snapped, tightening your grip on Levi’s hand. This was going downhill. And fast.
“Don’t talk to your cousin that way.”
“I’m uhh...I’m going to the bathroom…” Levi mumbled as he stood up and made a hasty retreat inside the house, having finally had enough of your family’s judgmental looks and insults.
“And you wonder why I don’t come by very often…”
“Now hold on, what is that supposed to mean?” your mother asked.
“It means, y’all are a rude bunch of assholes and I’d rather chew glass than sit through another meal with you.”
And cue your mother’s crocodile tears.
“Look what you did! Apologize to your mother now!” your father said, his tone sharper than it had been before, as he struggled to maintain his composure.
“Sure, after you apologize to me and my boyfriend.”
“Apologize for what? We just want what’s best for you. Why can’t you see that?” your mom said, sniffling and dabbing at her eyes with a napkin.
“Because we’ve had this conversation a thousand times. You don’t approve of my choices. You’ve mocked every partner of mine that’s had the misfortune of meeting you. And frankly, I’d rather be living in hell than spend another moment here.”
And with that you stood up, ignoring the shouts and your mothers sobs as you went on the hunt for Levi, whom you were sure was not going to be returning to the table anytime soon. When you finally found him, he had taken refuge in the small upstairs bathroom, hoping that anyone who may be looking to use the restroom would go to the downstairs one first and leave him undisturbed.
“Levi?” you knocked on the door, “Can I come in?” You heard some sniffing and shuffling around before the door finally opened, revealing a very red faced Levi who was trying (and failing) to hide behind his bangs. You quickly slipped inside, locking the door behind you. When you turned back to Levi, he was sitting on top of the large bathroom vanity, his feet dangling over the edge, and you didn’t waste another minute going to him and wrapping your arms around his neck, as he slipped his around your waist.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” you said, over and over again as you hugged him, “They’re a bunch of angry, miserable people. Please don’t listen to them.”
Levi pulled you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He took a deep breath, inhaling your scent, and trying to distract himself from his chaotic thoughts. This was not how today was supposed to go. It was supposed to be his chance to get to know your parents, but from the moment your mother answered the door things had started to go south. Why hadn’t he listened to you when you suggested spending the day in hiding?
And what was going to happen now? Was this it? Did this really mean there was no future for you and him? Of course there wouldn’t be one. He was foolish to have ever thought there could be. Your parents weren’t wrong when they said he didn’t have a real job. And what did he even know about supporting a human family anyways? Why did he think he’d be able to take care of you at all? You probably wanted someone who knew what they were doing. Not someone who you’d end up caring for.
“I love you so much. Please don’t listen to them. Please.”
“...they’re not wrong though...I...I don’t have a real job…”
“Levi, look at me,” you said, pulling back slightly and taking his face in your hands, gently turning him to look at you, “You’re one of seven demon lords of the Devildom, Grand Admiral of The Hell’s Navy. I think you’re ok in the job and prestige department.” You smiled at him, and he gave you a small, weak smile in return.
“Even my family would have been impressed with that if I could have told them,” you teased, before leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, “Besides, there is nothing wrong with being a You...DevilTuber anyways. You’re good at it, and you enjoy it. That’s all that matters.”
“You’re not worried about being stuck with your loser boyfriend who uses up all your time and money for his failed hobbies and selfish interests and…”
“No, Levi. I’m not worried about that. For starters, I don’t even have a loser boyfriend,” you said, this time kissing Levi softly on his lips, “I have a very talented boyfriend whom I’m very proud of.”
Levi blushed at your compliment before pulling you closer and resting his head on your shoulder. This day sucked. He was exhausted. And he really just wanted to go home and go to sleep. But at least you were here with him, and hadn’t left him alone to deal with the pack of wolves that was your family.
“Are they always like that?”
“My family?” you asked, wrapping your arms around Levi’s neck again and kissing the top of his head, “Yeah. Pretty much. That’s why I don’t see them often.”
He finally understood why you had been so anxious about this whole trip, and why you stayed glued to his side the entire afternoon. You weren’t worried about him embarrassing you or himself - you were worried about your vicious relatives attacking your boyfriend. How many other friends and partners of yours had they mistreated? he wondered.
“I thought since you were so nice, they couldn’t be that bad…”
“Pffft. No. They definitely could be that bad. It’s said that kids can go one of two ways - they either turn out just like their parents, or the complete opposite and use their parents as the blueprint for everything they don’t want to be in life.
I am obviously part of the latter category.”
“Good.”
You laughed at Levi’s reply, glad he seemed to be feeling a little bit better. His head was still resting on your shoulder and you could tell he had reached his threshold for human interaction for the next decade, at least. You started to comb your fingers through his hair, snuggling him close. Levi’s arms tightened around you, letting more of his weight rest on you as he started to relax.
“So, do you want to go ahead and go back to the Devildom?...or do you want to find the fanciest hotel around and spend the night there on Lord Diavolo’s dime?”
“...what kind of fancy hotel?”
“The kind that offers 24/7 room service and will cook up anything you can imagine.
Oh, and, can’t forget to mention this, the kind your brothers don’t know about so they can’t interrupt us.”
“...that sounds good.”
“It’s the least Lord Diavolo can do for us I think, after forcing us on this awful trip.”
“Could we rent movies too?” Levi had turned his head to look at you, his eyes sparkling as he started to remember some really good anime movies that were currently only available in the human realm.
“Oh definitely. As many as you like,” you smiled, giving him a quick kiss.
“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get out of here before your mom tries to hug you and starts screeching again.”
Laughter filled the small bathroom as the two of you began giggling at his comment, taking turns shushing one another in an attempt to keep quiet. It didn’t matter what your family thought about your life choices, or whether they judged Levi “worthy” of your time. All that mattered to you was that you were able to enjoy moments like this, with your best friend and partner. And you weren’t about to give that up.
#gn!mc#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me levi#levi x mc#obey me fanfic#obey me angst#obey me comfort#levi fanfic#levi angst#levi comfort
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Mending
ever wondered what happens when you have too many ideas and want to do them all immediately so you cram them into one story even though it doesn’t make any sense?? this. this is what happens
What if Zuko was the one struck by Azula's attack in The Chase? And what if instead of fire, it was lightning? An exploration of what would have occurred between Zuko, Iroh, and the Gaang in that scenario. Hint -- the Gaang has a LOT of fun messing with him.
word count: 29,650
_____________________________________
It happened so fast. Unbelievably fast.
One second, Azula was standing in front of them, trapped and outnumbered, raising her hands in defeat. They’d beaten her; they’d won. It should’ve been over. Then, with a single sweep of her arm, a bolt of lightning shot from her fingertips, zipping toward Iroh too quickly, too close range for him to react in time to redirect it.
She had been aiming at him. It should’ve been him getting hit, him doubling over, him collapsing lifelessly to the ground. So why was his nephew suddenly flying in front of him? Why did the lightning strike him instead? How could he have predicted what was about to happen, let alone moved in time to take the blow?
Why did the world dip into slow motion as the electricity coursed through his body? Flashing, cracking, sizzling—coiling like neon blue snakes? Why couldn’t he move as he watched Zuko fall? Why didn’t he reach out and catch him? Why did his screams sound distant even though he was right there, convulsing at his feet?
Why did the stench of burning flesh have to smell so familiar?
“Zuko!”
The avatar and his gang threw everything they had at the princess. But in a flash of blue flame, heat and smoke exploded across the battlefield. When the air cleared, she was gone. Zuko lied where he’d fallen, motionless and silent.
Iroh dropped to his knees. “No—Zuko—no.” A large hole was seared through the fabric on the upper left side of his chest. The skin that was visible was red and raw. His eyes were closed and his muscles were slack. He looked asleep—peaceful, even.
It was too similar. Too real. His last day in Ba Sing Se roared back to the present with a ferocious vengeance. With trembling hands, Iroh cradled the boy’s head.
“Nephew...can you hear me? Zuko…please...”
Once they’d determined the threat was gone, the group gazed upon the gut-wrenching scene, stunned. A cold knot formed in Aang’s belly. Zuko had been hurt—bad. Zuko was their enemy. They’d been fighting each other not even thirty seconds ago. But the old general he called his uncle had always seemed strangely neutral. He’d never actively fought against any of them. Back in the Northern Water Tribe, he’d helped them save the moon spirit—and in turn, the entire world.
However evil Zuko was, Aang didn’t want him to die. The old man clearly cared about him. And the sound of his sobs…
He looked to Katara. The war raging in her soul gleamed in the whites of her eyes. She caught his gaze, grimacing bitterly, her hands balled into fists at her sides.
“Katara,” Toph said, the weight of the situation heavy in her voice. The others held their breath, glancing between Zuko and the waterbender. Slowly, the anger drained from her expression.
She stepped toward the old man, extending her hand. “I—I can help,” she said. “I can heal him, if you’ll let me.”
“Katara!” Sokka protested. She ignored him. Iroh looked at her over his shoulder, eyes red and pleading.
That was all the confirmation she needed. Katara rushed to Zuko’s other side, kneeling opposite of Iroh. She streamed a line of water from her pouch and cloaked it around her hands.
“What are you doing?” Sokka snapped. “He’s our enemy!”
“He’s hurt,” Katara retorted coldly. “He needs my help.”
“I d-don’t think he’s breathing,” Iroh stammered, clutching the teenager like he’d disintegrate if he let him go. “Is he—is his heart—I c-can’t tell if he’s—”
“He’s breathing,” Toph assured him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I can feel it. His heart’s beating, too.” She closed her eyes. “But...they’re both very weak.”
It tore her up, feeling Iroh shiver against the ground, hearing his voice quake with fear. She’d only spoken to him once, but in their short conversation, he’d proved himself to be a wise, kind person who would do anything for his troubled nephew. They couldn’t let him die, if only for Iroh’s sake.
Katara held her hands over the injury, the water following its path through his body. The damage was deep and gruesome. Streams of burnt flesh fanned out from the entry wound across the majority of his torso, snaked down his left leg, then re-concentrated at the bottom of his foot, where the lightning must have exited.
“This is bad,” she admitted, her gaze shifting to Zuko’s face. He’d never looked so fragile to her before—so small. His weird bald ponytail look was gone; he’d chopped it off and let his hair start growing out. It was short, fuzzy, and—dare she say—cute, comparatively. It also aged him down, making him look less like a scary Fire Nation soldier and more like a teenager.
“It’s going to take me awhile. We should find somewhere safe to move him.”
Iroh sniffled and wiped his eyes, holding Zuko’s head in his lap and running a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he said. “Yes, let’s—yes. Okay.”
It took him a minute to stand. He kept his palm cupped under Zuko’s head, never letting it touch the ground. Once he was on his feet, Katara and Aang helped lift his nephew into his arms.
“Thank you,” the old man whimpered. “Thank you all s-so much...” Tears flowed freely from his eyes as he held Zuko close to his chest. Aang offered him a small smile.
“Let’s head back toward the river,” Katara said, returning the water to her pouch. “Appa should be waiting for us there. We can set up camp in the surrounding forest.”
As she walked past Sokka, he gave her a what is wrong with you look. She shot back with a glare of her own, which shut him up for the time being.
That lasted about two minutes. As Katara led the way, Sokka jogged to catch up with her, keeping his voice low.
“You do realize how crazy this is, don’t you?”
Katara narrowed her eyes but didn’t respond.
“We’re helping Zuko. You know, royal Fire Nation psycho freak? Ozai’s devil spawn? The guy who's been chasing us around and terrorizing us since we first met Aang? The dude who wants nothing more than to kill us all and drag our friend back to the Fire Nation like a prized turkey pig?”
“You think I want to help him?” Katara snapped, holding her shoulders tight as she walked. “He’ll die if I don’t heal him. Are you saying we should just let him die?”
Sokka swallowed and stared at his feet. “I...no. I don’t know. I just...don’t see any version of this ending well.”
“I know it’s weird,” Aang concurred, glancing back at Iroh nervously. “But...we have to help him. It’s the right thing to do.”
“What if one of us got shot full of lightning?” Sokka retorted. “You think Prince Jerkbender would do anything to help us? Of course not. He would exploit the situation to try to capture Aang.”
“His uncle would help,” Toph said.
Aang smiled solemnly. “Exactly. Don’t think of it as helping Zuko. Think of it as helping Iroh not be sad.” He blinked, his eyes darkening. “He seems...really scared and shaken.”
“It boggles my mind that he cares about him so much. That old man’s kindness is completely wasted on a selfish moron like Zuko.”
Iroh moaned suddenly, causing the group to freeze in place and turn around. The Fire Nation general was trailing far behind them, flushed and sweaty. His knees were wobbling under the burden of Zuko’s weight.
“I’m so sorry,” he grated out. “S’my old joints. Please...could someone…”
Slowly, all eyes swiveled to Sokka. It took him a moment to notice the sudden onslaught of attention. He glanced between his friends, spluttering.
“What?” he exclaimed. “Why me?”
Aang shrugged. “Out of all of us, you’re probably the strongest.”
“But I don’t want to carry the angry jerk!” he whined, stamping his feet.
Katara placed her hands on her hips. “You don’t want to, or you’re not strong enough to?” she retorted smugly.
Sokka knew she was baiting him, but with a huff, he decided to bite. All of them were exhausted; Azula and her tank of dangerous ladies had made sure of that. The sooner they got to camp, the sooner they could rest.
“Fine,” he grumbled. He marched back toward Iroh, griping sourly under his breath. “Here—gimme.”
Sokka knelt down and let Iroh drape Zuko over his back. Sokka wrapped his arms under his knees and hoisted his weight forward, bundling the unconscious prince into the world’s most unhappy piggyback ride.
Once he was secure, Sokka rose upright and stomped after Katara, face gnarled with irritation. “Happy now?” he said. “If he wakes up and roasts me alive, I’m blaming you.”
“Please be careful with him,” Iroh said nervously, tailing Sokka with his hands out like he was going to drop his nephew at any moment.
Sokka rolled his eyes but held Zuko a little tighter. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmured.
Ten minutes later, they reached the river. Appa was snoring peacefully beneath a tree with Momo nestled in his fur. The sun poked above the horizon line, casting blood red beams across the water.
As Aang gathered their blankets and sleeping bags from Appa’s saddle, Katara yawned and pointed at an alcove between two evergreens. “Toph, could you make us an earth tent? One big enough for all of us to fit.”
Toph jabbed her fists out then up, forming a large, triangle-shaped structure. The gang staggered inside, blinking and rubbing their sleepy eyes, with Iroh close behind.
“Lay him down here,” Katara instructed. Aang spread their spare blanket across the ground while Sokka unraveled himself from the lifeless firebender.
“You know, you’re a lot heavier than you look, your highness,” Sokka scoffed. “Might want to lay off the fire gummies. And your obsessive rage-fueled quest of evil against me and my friends.”
Iroh hurried to Sokka’s aid. The two of them worked together to gently guide Zuko to the ground. Aang tucked Sokka’s Water Tribe jacket under his head as a pillow.
“But that’s…!” Sokka began, then sunk in defeat. “Oh, whatever.”
“He looks so still,” Iroh breathed. He petted Zuko’s hair and ran his thumb along his cheek, tears glistening in his eyes. “Oh, nephew. How could I let this happen…?”
Again?
Katara re-soaked her hands in water and sat on Zuko’s left. “I’ll help him as much as I can,” she said, expression steely. She stifled another yawn, then got to work.
The moon was high in the sky by the time she was done. The wound was still bad, but edging away from life-threatening. Her friends had fallen asleep long ago; she and Iroh were the only one’s left awake. She would’ve kept going, but at this point, she could barely keep her eyes open.
“He’ll need a few more sessions to heal properly,” she said, streaming the water back into her pouch and rising to her feet, “and a lot of rest. I’ll start again in the morning.”
“Thank you, young lady,” Iroh said, bowing his head. “I owe you and your friends an insurmountable debt. I know how you all must feel about my nephew, but…” He swallowed, voice wavering. “He—he’s very important to me. I know he is capable of great good, he’s just...been through a lot.”
Katara wasn’t sure how to respond. She didn’t want to entertain the possibility that Zuko was or ever could be an actual human being with feelings—not after all the pain and trouble he’d put them through. Regardless of how his uncle saw him, he was still their enemy: a Fire Nation scumbag determined to capture their friend and rid the world of its last emblem of hope. Healing him was a reflection of her own kindness, and a courtesy to Iroh; it had nothing to do with Zuko himself. Having the capacity for good wasn’t enough; he’d never acted on it, which rendered it meaningless.
Katara glared at the ground. “If he wakes up…” she began.
“He will be no trouble to you,” Iroh assured her. “You have my word.”
She trusted him, though she wasn’t sure why. He was just as much Fire Nation as Zuko, but his aura and levelness reminded her of her father. Someone inclined to protect the wellbeing of others, and who never broke their promises. Still, she wasn’t letting her guard down.
She eyed the large red splotch on Zuko’s chest. “Even if I can fully heal him, he’ll probably still be left with a scar.”
Iroh blanched, but kept his expression stony. “I see,” he said. His somber gaze shifted to his nephew’s face. “That is okay. He can handle it.” His fingers carded through Zuko’s hair, lingering around his left eye. “It won’t be his first time being scarred by a family member.”
Something cold coiled around Katara’s heart. Her eyes flickered toward the dark, leathery burn marring half of the prince’s face before quickly jerking away. Someone in his family did that to him? She’d never thought much about Zuko’s scar—just that it marked him as an individual, distinguished him as their enemy, and made him all the more scary-looking for it. She hadn’t really considered how he’d gotten it, or what significance that might carry.
Her curiosity was officially piqued, but she knew better than to ask. She turned away indignantly. What does it matter, anyway? A bad home life doesn’t warrant a lifetime of evil.
No amount of sob stories would ever make Zuko deserving of her sympathy.
“Goodnight,” she said, curling up beside her friends.
“Goodnight,” he replied. He scooted behind Zuko and lifted his head into his lap, periodically checking his pulse as he petted his hair. It didn’t look like he was planning to go to sleep anytime soon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The world that Zuko woke to was bright and painful. A beam of sunlight was shining directly into his eyes, making him squint and blink. He tried to shift to escape the harsh glow, but he couldn’t seem to move.
Maybe it had something to do with the bone-deep agony radiating through his entire body.
It started underneath his left shoulder and pulsed out from there, feverish and nauseating. His foot surged with a similar ache, but to a less heated degree. Every feeble attempt to move made it a hundred times worse. Even breathing was excruciating.
Ugh, he thought, gritting his teeth. His mind was hazy; his skull felt like it was full of stones. Wha…?
He blinked, and a blinding blue flash exploded behind his eyelids. He jolted as the memory returned, his hand flying to his shoulder.
Azula. Outnumbered. Defeated. But...she attacked. Uncle. Had to protect him. Jumped between them. Then…
A cataclysmic thrum of unimaginable pain. After that, everything had clapped to darkness.
Grimacing, Zuko slid one hand underneath his body and pushed against the ground. The effort left him dizzy and gasping, but he managed to lift himself off the floor and into a sitting position, his bare back resting against the stone wall behind him. He sat that way for a while, panting and moaning, gripping his chest where the pain throbbed like a second heartbeat.
Azula had done this to him. Figured. Had she captured the avatar and dragged him home to Father while he was out, taking away his only chance of ever redeeming his honor?
He looked down at his shoulder, lifting his hand away from the skin. A large, red scar lied underneath, blistered and swollen and still relatively fresh. The splotchy, scarlet circle was the only visible evidence left by Azula’s attack, although he could feel its harrowing effect in every muscle of his body. It looked slightly different than the mark on his face—felt different, too. But not different enough.
Another burn. Another scar. At least this one he could hide.
But man, did it hurt.
He tore his gaze away from the wound and scanned his surroundings, blinking the sleepy sheen from his eyes. He was in some kind of tall, tent-like structure made of earth. The ground around him was littered with blankets, bags, and other miscellaneous items. Not Uncle’s belongings, he realized. Zuko’s throat tightened.
He’d have to worry about dealing with Azula later. For now…
Where in the world am I?
Voices reached his ears, making him perk up in alarm. Someone calling from afar, followed by a cheerful laugh.
“Hold on—let me grab my staff!”
Footsteps approached, quick but light. A few moments later, a figure jogged into the tent, silhouetted by sunshine. Zuko squinted against the harsh brightness, his eyes still bleary with exhaustion.
The individual moved out of the doorway to rummage through a bag on the floor. Only when he stood upright, glider in hand, backlit by the sun but no longer blown out, did his bald head, blue tattoos, and chipper smile become distinguishable.
No way.
“Found it!” the avatar cried. Then his gaze fell upon the injured firebender, who was now sitting upright and visibly conscious, and his eyes bugged out of his skull.
“Ah!” he gasped, flinching back and dropping his staff. Before Zuko had time to react, let alone process what was going on, Aang darted out of the tent, shouting: “He’s awake! Guys! Zuko’s awake!”
Zuko blinked. And suddenly, four people were looming over him, their outlines and features fuzzy-looking. Time seemed to be flying by at double the speed while he was trapped in slow motion. His brain felt like a mushy bowl of jook. Fortunately, he managed to identify the individuals surrounding him.
Unfortunately, they were the last four people he wanted to see right now.
“What the—?” he exclaimed, panic blooming in his chest. He tried to sit up a little straighter, but the movement made his chest flare with pain. He clutched it with a groan, slumping limply against the wall.
“Don’t move,” the small earthbending girl said. “You’re hurt really bad.”
Zuko forced his eyes open, leering between the avatar and his gang, sweating bullets and shivering all over. Why was he shivering so much? Why couldn’t he make it stop? He didn’t just feel hurt; he felt sick. The wound was hot and sticky against his palm.
“W-what are you doing here?” he growled.
“Saving you, that’s what,” Aang retorted. The Water Tribe boy—Sokka, if his memory served—stood beside him, holding his boomerang at the ready.
“Azula attacked you,” he explained. “She shot you full of lightning. You’d be dead if Katara hadn’t helped you.”
Zuko’s stomach turned icy. His eyes wandered to the waterbender, who frowned at him with her hand hovering over her pouch. All of them looked ready to kill him the second he made the wrong move.
Meanwhile, he felt ready to puke.
Why would they save me? That meant they needed him for something. Information? Intel on the Fire Nation? A ransom hostage? Fat chance he’d be helpful on any of those accounts. They could turn him over to his father, maybe—he was a fugitive of the Fire Nation. Then again, so were they.
Or they were lying about saving him. Maybe they’d kidnapped him after Azula’s attack just so they got to watch him suffer a slow, grisly death. Maybe this was building toward some elaborate form of payback for all the times he’d tried to capture the avatar. His injury wasn’t even bandaged—no medicine in sight, either. What exactly had they done to help him?
“I’ll go get Iroh,” Aang said, jogging out of the tent. Zuko’s fear-fueled fantasies veered into confusion.
What? Uncle’s here? Why? Was he hurt, too? Had the avatar and his friends captured them both? What was going on?
“His fever’s gotten worse,” the earthbender said. It took Zuko a second to realize she was talking about him, and a second longer to realize she had somehow come to this conclusion without even touching him. It made no sense. None of this did. It felt like he was trapped inside some crazy, lucid nightmare.
Katara studied him for a while, her eyes dark and searching. Then she sighed, coating her hands in water. She walked toward him suddenly, making Zuko tense.
“Stay back!” he shouted, gritting his teeth to keep them from chattering. He kept one palm glued to his wound while the other stayed flat against the ground to prevent him from toppling over.
To his disbelief, the waterbender ignored him, sitting by his side with a level expression. Katara stared at Zuko coldly. She’d never realized how golden his irises were. She’d never been this close to see—not while he was awake. When they caught the sunlight, they glinted and shimmered in an almost supernatural way. The eyes of a hunter.
Zuko glared back with his usual scowl. Brows furrowed, teeth bared. He’d always reminded her of a predator. Something wild and ferocious that prowled after the innocent. But today, something was different. Today, Zuko was the prey: trembling, injured, trapped, and scared. His typically scalding gaze was clouded with fear.
Katara held up her hands as she stared him down. The water encasing them glowed a soft blue. “I’m going to help lower your fever,” she stated. “Either you sit still and let me do it, or Toph pins you down and makes you stay still.”
“And if you try firebending, Boomerang is coming for your head,” Sokka added.
Zuko’s skin bristled with goosebumps as chills shuddered up his spine. After the Agni Kai against his father, he recalled contracting an intense fever in response to the terrible burn. It hadn’t lasted long, but it wasn’t pleasant. Uncle had worked diligently to bring it down and comfort him while the physicians tended to his scorched face. It wasn’t a time he liked to remember, but he wondered if that’s what was happening now—if Azula’s burn was afflicting him just like Father’s had.
“I don’t w-want your help,” Zuko hissed. He had no idea what she was planning to do to him, and he wasn’t interested in finding out. Whatever the end goal to all of this was, their intentions were clearly hostile.
Katara shared a look with her brother, then wrinkled her brow. Wordlessly, she reached forward, placing her palm against Zuko’s forehead.
“Hey! What’re you—?” He squirmed away and made a grab for her wrist, but she caught his first, pinning his arm against the wall without moving the hand on his head. He didn’t realize how weak he was until he tried and failed to wriggle free of her hold. The effort it took just to try left him woozy.
“Just—wait,” she instructed sharply. “It’ll make you feel better. I promise.”
He considered frying her hand to force her to release him, but Sokka was right there, and he knew how much that boomerang could hurt—even with a helmet on. Plus, he was tired, lightheaded, and now that she mentioned it…
He stopped fighting for a moment, panting. The watery glove around her hand felt like it was seeping through his skull and into his brain, sucking all the heat and pain with it. The pulsing ache in his head eased to a small hum. His feverish chills eased away. Slowly, his muscles relaxed. He blinked, stunned by the sudden and extraordinary relief.
Once she realized he wasn’t trying to escape anymore, she let go of his wrist and pressed both palms to his temples. The assuage increased even more, making Zuko release a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
“This should bring your fever down temporarily,” she said. This was not normal waterbending; he knew that much. It was cool, tingly, soothing, almost spiritual in nature. When she took her hands away, he was left feeling exponentially better, though the wound on his shoulder continued to throb. Zuko met her gaze for an instant, pressing a finger to his brow.
“What...what’d you just do?” he asked. Katara stood and stepped back, her expression sour.
“Reduced your pain, even if you deserve every bit of it.”
Anger resurfaced in the prince’s chest. Even though he was still reeling with relief, his eyes cut daggers through hers.
“Then why do it?” he remarked. He gripped his injury tighter. “Why am I here? What do you want from me?”
“I’ll see if Iroh has any herbal remedies he could give you for a more permanent solution,” Katara continued, ignoring his abrasive inquiry. “But you’ll need plenty of rest to recover completely.”
“Answer my questions!” Zuko yelled, making Sokka and Toph wince. “Why are you keeping me here? What are you planning?”
The shouting roused his wound, making him fall back against the wall with a strained whimper. At that moment, the avatar skipped back into the tent with Iroh on his tail. Zuko glanced up along with the others. As soon as Uncle’s eyes found his, the old man melted.
“See? He’s awake! Told you he’d be all right!”
Iroh didn’t wait for him to finish. He rushed toward his nephew, tripping over sleeping bags and pushing past Sokka with his arms outstretched. “Zuko!” he cried.
“Uncle?” the young prince answered, looking puzzled. He yelped in surprise when Iroh practically tackled him, wrapping him into the biggest platypus bear hug any of them had ever seen.
“Oh, my beautiful nephew!” Iroh blubbered, squeezing the air from his lungs. “I’m so happy you’re all right!”
Zuko squirmed uncomfortably, inexperienced in dealing with such blatant physical affection. “Uncle! What’re you—ouch! Quit it! You’re—crushing me!”
A few giggles slipped from Aang and Toph’s lips. It was an amusing scene—watching the grumpy Fire Nation prince get smothered by his overbearing uncle. Even the Water Tribe siblings hinted smug grins. Aang swore he saw a touch of pink flush across the firebender’s cheeks.
Despite his nephew’s wriggly protests, Iroh clung on to him a little while longer, one hand wrapped around Zuko’s torso while the other cradled the back of his head. Zuko eventually gave up trying to escape and just sat there awkwardly, squished and pouting as he waited for his uncle to get his fill. The gang was relieved to see Iroh happy after so many hours of anxiety.
Once he finally released Zuko from his hold, Iroh’s attention honed in on his nephew’s wound, his hands hovering around the bright red scar. “How bad does it hurt? Are you in terrible pain?”
More like excruciating, Zuko thought. His muscles felt like burnt noodles, his bones like over-roasted komodo chicken legs. But he didn’t need to tell Iroh that—he was already an erratic pyre of stress as it was. He rolled his eyes and shrugged, trying to evoke nonchalance, realizing his mistake too late. A stabbing ache tore through his shoulder and shot down his arm, making him to wince sharply and hiss through his teeth. He grabbed his chest, groaning wearily.
“Stay still, Prince Zuko,” Iroh said, laying the back of his hand against his cheek. “Your body is very weak, and you’re still warmer than usual. I’ll brew you some ginger root tea to reduce the fever.”
Zuko scrunched up his brow and knocked his hand away. “Stop fussing, Uncle,” he grumbled bitterly. “M’fine.”
“Fine?” Iroh repeated. A beat passed where the old man just stared at him, jaw tight, his lower lip trembling. Then, out of nowhere, Uncle seized Zuko by his uninjured shoulder, his eyes flashing with an uncharacteristic rage. “Are you insane? You call this ‘fine?’ What on earth were you thinking?”
Zuko blinked, looking just as surprised as everyone else in the room. He was still recovering from Iroh’s crushing embrace, followed by the sudden burst of pain. Now he was yelling at him?
“What?” Zuko said, startled.
“Why would you throw yourself in between me and Azula like that?” he shouted. “That lightning should have hit me, not you!”
It wasn’t like Uncle to shout. Uncle only shouted when it was for a very specific and important purpose. He wasn’t like the Fire Lord—or Zuko, for that matter.
“You’d rather I just sat there and let you take the hit?” Zuko scoffed in disbelief. “Azula was trying to kill you!”
“And she very nearly killed you!” Iroh retorted, making Zuko shrink back a little. “If it wasn’t for the kindness of these children, you’d be dead right now! First in the North Pole, and again today!”
Zuko grimaced and turned away, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “I never asked for their help.”
Iroh gave him a quick shake, making the young prince tense. “You shouldn’t even be needing it! You have to stop putting yourself in danger like this!”
Zuko didn’t understand why he was so angry with him. He huffed toward the ground. “This is exactly why I didn’t want us traveling together anymore. You worry too much.”
“Because you don’t worry enough!” Iroh roared. “You seem perfectly fine with throwing your life away over nothing!”
“I was trying to protect you, Uncle!” Zuko exclaimed, shoving his hand off his shoulder. “Is your life nothing?”
“Yes!” Iroh snarled. He cupped his nephew’s face in his hands, his eyes like fire. “Compared to yours, yes! My life is nothing, Prince Zuko.”
Zuko’s scowl fell, replaced by a look of sickly confusion. The tent plunged into sudden silence. Aang and his friends felt like they were intruding on a very private moment, but now they were too intrigued not to see how this ended.
“Why...would you say that?” Zuko asked uneasily. He pulled Iroh’s hands away from his face. “That’s not—”
“I’ve lived my life, nephew,” Uncle insisted. “If I died today, I’d die a happy, fulfilled old man. But you are just a boy, my prince, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not. You have so much life left to live. If you died…”
Uncle shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, bowing low to ground, as if the thought physically hurt him. Zuko didn’t know what to say. Tears started slipping down Iroh’s cheeks and dripping into the grass.
“Uncle…” Zuko began softly. A moment later, his eyes lurched up to the four others occupying the room and grew wide, as if he’d forgotten they were there. He leered at them with a mixture of loathing and embarrassment, feeling strange and exposed by their prying gazes, until Uncle listed forward, burying his face into his chest.
“Don’t m-make me endure it again, Zuko,” Iroh wept, hugging the prince with all the love and pain in the universe. “Don’t make me watch another son die...”
Guilt and sorrow surged into Zuko’s throat. He knew Iroh cared for him—knew he liked to pretend that he was his own now that Lu Ten was gone. But to this day, he didn’t understand why. Zuko had done nothing to earn Iroh’s love; he actively pushed him away and treated him like garbage just to prove it, testing how much it would take to get it to break. But no matter what he tried, Iroh’s love persisted: unbending and unconditional. It was perplexing, illogical, infuriating—and wonderful.
Uncle’s love wasn’t like Ozai’s. Uncle’s love wasn’t something he had to beg and fight and compete for. It was just...there. Always. And he had no idea how to deal with it.
As Iroh cried into his shoulder, Zuko placed an awkward hand on his arm in attempt to calm him, wincing at the anguish in his sobs. “I wasn’t—I didn’t—” he stammered, grappling for the words to make him stop.
“It would’ve killed me, Zuko,” Iroh wept, holding him close. “If you d-died saving me, I would have died anyway. I couldn’t bear it. Not again…”
Zuko watched his Uncle sniffle and shake, a lump forming in his throat. He didn’t understand it. He doubted he ever would. He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. He cursed the wobble that snuck into his voice.
“I think we should go,” Toph whispered, jerking her thumb toward the exit. The group nodded in agreement. None of them had ever seen Zuko so vulnerable before—physically, emotionally, or otherwise. He obviously reciprocated Iroh’s love, even if he wasn’t as good at expressing it as him. It was obnoxiously heartwarming.
“No,” Iroh said, sitting up suddenly, running the heels of his hands under his puffy eyes. “No, please stay.” He turned to Zuko, placing a palm against his back. “My nephew has something he’d like to say to you.”
Zuko’s soft expression twisted into a look of disgust. “What?”
“These people saved your life on two different occasions, Prince Zuko—despite all the trouble we’ve caused them. The least you can do is thank them for their generosity.”
The firebender’s golden gaze bore ferociously into his uncle’s, then swept across the four kids standing around them. His signature scowl returned with a vengeance.
“There’s a reason besides generosity that they did it,” Zuko hissed, flinching and grabbing his wounded shoulder. “I just haven’t figured out what it is yet.”
Katara placed her hands on her hips. “We did it because we’re not monsters,” she shot back. “And because your uncle cares about you. Why, I have no idea—but we didn’t want him to lose his nephew.”
Zuko lunged toward her with a growl, but Iroh held him back, which did not take much effort.
“Enough, Zuko,” he scolded him. “The reason they helped you does not matter. The fact is, they helped you. And that alone warrants your gratitude.”
The injured prince glowered at them, gritting his teeth. Iroh was kidding himself if he thought he was going to get a ‘thank you’ to cross his insufferable nephew’s lips.
“Trust me, Prince Zuko—it is far more honorable to thank your rival for sparing your life than to hold your tongue out of senseless pride.” He placed a hand on his head and ruffled his hair. “Go on.”
Zuko ducked out of his reach and scratched his scalp irritably. The group waited for him to blow up, to spit fire and fury and tell all of them to go jump in the river. His glare alone could sear clean through stone.
But to everyone’s disbelief, the flames in his eyes were gradually superseded by something else. A lifetime of exhaustion, misery, and defeat. His golden irises suddenly looked dull; his expression grew heavy with sadness. He grimaced at the wall, still trembling a little from his fever.
“This doesn’t change anything,” he spat, squeezing his eyes shut. “But...thank you.”
A moment later, Zuko did a quick motion, placing the heel of his left palm on top of his right fist and dipping his head toward the ground. If someone blinked, they would’ve missed it—but the gang recognized the rapid gesture as a Fire Nation bow, done as a sign of respect and humility. It was fast and awkward, but it was genuine. Then Zuko turned his back to them, frowning at the corner of the tent, hunching his shoulders and kneading his wound with his thumb.
Katara, Sokka, and Toph walked outside, but Aang stayed behind, smiling wide. Even though he wasn’t looking, Aang repeated the movement back to Zuko. Iroh beamed at him delightedly, then patted his nephew’s arm.
“Get some rest, Prince Zuko. I’ll be back soon with the tea and some soup.”
Zuko didn’t acknowledge him as he got up and left with the others. He just stared at the wall, feeling small, broken, and weak.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
While Iroh prepared the meal, the avatar and his crew sat around the fire in a misshapen semi-circle, each occupied with their own projects. Aang polished his staff, Sokka sharpened his boomerang, Katara sewed a tear in her dress, and Toph played with Momo, making little pegs of earth pop up from the ground for him to chase.
The silence was suffocating.
Sokka kept shooting looks at his friends, as if to say is no one going to acknowledge how strange this is? They had two Fire Nation royalty with them, one of which was making them dinner, while the other (who had tried to kill them on many, many occasions) was sleeping hardly twenty feet away. When he couldn’t bear it any longer, he cleared his throat, painting an awkward grin on his face.
“So...uh...Iroh. General Iroh? Or—Prince Iroh? Or—?”
The old man chuckled. “Just Iroh is fine.” He swirled a ladle through the steaming broth. The aroma was thick and spicy. “Would anyone care for some ginseng soup?”
Everyone raised their hand, bringing a smile to his face. He filled four bowls to the brim and handed one to each of the kids. Once the group had been served, Iroh sat among them, sipping his own meal while monitoring the tea.
“Wow, this is great!” Sokka said, slurping noisily. He wiped his mouth and eyed the old man with a frown. “Not to be rude or anything, but...you seem like a pretty okay guy. Why do you waste your time trying to help your evil nephew?”
“Sokka!” Katara rebuked him, making him wince.
“What? It’s a valid question! He’s so polite and nice, even if he is Fire Nation. Zuko, on the other hand...”
Iroh rested his bowl in his lap, watching the soup wobble and glint in the sunlight. He sighed softly. “I know you all dislike my nephew. And after everything he’s done, you have every right to. He is a conflicted person who has made many mistakes.” He lifted his gaze. “But I’ve known Zuko since the day he was born, and I know the goodness that lies within him.”
Katara huffed dubiously, sipping her dinner in short bouts. Sokka frowned behind his soup mustache. Meanwhile, Aang and Toph listened curiously, spooning heaps of broth into their bellies. Momo leaned over Aang’s shoulder and lapped up a few mouthfuls from his bowl.
“I was on a path not dissimilar from his for most of my life. Obsessed with honor and power, as well as my place in the Fire Nation. It took immense pain and suffering for me to realize the error of my ways and to start on a new journey. One focused on restoring balance to the world and protecting peace.”
His words struck Katara like an arrow through the heart. “Your son?” she said hesitantly, remembering his words from before. Iroh closed his eyes and nodded his head.
“Yes. Lu Ten.”
“But how is helping Zuko capture Aang protecting peace?” Sokka asked bluntly. “You’d be destroying it.”
Iroh chuckled. “I haven’t exactly been helpful in my nephew’s pursuit of the avatar. That has never been my goal. I travel with him because I’m all he has left.” He lowered his gaze. “Now that he and I have been declared fugitives of the Fire Nation, I suppose he’s all I have, too.”
Aang gawked. “Fugitives? You mean the Fire Nation considers Zuko a criminal?”
He recalled that it had been Zuko who busted him out of the Fire Nation prison Zhao had locked him up in. Zuko, wielding dual swords and wearing a blue mask, had helped him escape. To this day, he never understood why he’d risked his life to free him. Was it really all because he wanted to capture the avatar himself?
Had the Fire Nation found out what he did that night, and branded him a traitor?
“Zuko was banished from the Fire Nation when he was thirteen, and has been living in exile ever since. But only recently has the Fire Lord labeled him fugitive.” Iroh stroked his beard. “Why, I’m not entirely sure—though I have my suspicions.”
Katara and Sokka exchanged a startled glance. Zuko was banished from his own country? At thirteen?
“Why was he banished in the first place?” Toph asked, voicing the question in everyone’s mind.
Iroh finished off his soup and placed his bowl to the side, his eyes dark. He knew Zuko wouldn’t approve of him sharing his life story with his so-called enemies. But perhaps if they knew how he ended up in the place he was today, they could begin to understand the why, and maybe even aid him on his journey to see the light. Iroh heaved a lofty sigh.
“It is my fault, I am afraid. I let him attend a war meeting even though I knew the risks. It is one of my greatest regrets.” He bowed his head. “The Fire Nation is very strict about knowing one’s place and staying quiet in certain social situations. When I granted him permission to join us, I warned him not to speak. But when one of the generals suggested we use a group of new recruits as bait for our next attack against the Earth Kingdom, that we send a bunch of kids into what would very likely wind up a suicide mission—Zuko denounced him in front of the highest ranking war authorities in the Fire Nation.”
His nephew’s words echoed hollowly in his skull. You can’t sacrifice an entire battalion like that! Those soldiers love and defend our nation. How could you betray them?
The four friends stared at him in tense silence. Iroh poured himself a cup of tea as the fire cracked and fizzled.
“Zuko was right, of course. But his actions were considered extraordinarily disrespectful. He was forced to fight an Agni Kai—a fire duel—in front of the entire royal court. He thought it would be against the elderly general he’d interrupted. Instead, when he turned around, he found himself standing face-to-face with Ozai, his father.”
The icy claw from before seized Katara’s heart with a newfound frigidness. She had a feeling she already knew where this was leading, but the thought still chilled her to her core.
“His dad...wanted to fight him?” Sokka inquired. “Or he was forced to?”
“Ozai is the Fire Lord—the supreme leader of the country. He could have easily pardoned Zuko and moved on. My brother chose to fight his own thirteen-year-old son willingly and zealously.” Iroh grimaced. “Ozai has detested Zuko since he was a child, always favoring his sister Azula above him. He’s been searching for a way to revoke Zuko’s birthright to the throne since Azula began to overshadow him in firebending prowess. Speaking out in a war meeting granted him the perfect excuse to do just that.”
The air was still. Toph suddenly felt guilty for once believing her parents were the worst the universe could bestow. Momo trilled and pawed at Aang’s ear. The avatar leaned toward Iroh anxiously.
“What happened next?”
The old man sipped his steaming cup, his expression sad and distant. “I thought by this point, the whole world knew what happened that day. Fire Nation parents tell the story to their children to scare them into obedience and allegiance to their country.”
None of the kids spoke up. They just stared at him, wide-eyed. So Iroh continued.
“Zuko threw himself to the ground, begging for his father’s forgiveness. Ozai commanded him to fight, but he refused to attack his own father.”
The cup was suddenly trembling in his hands. His knuckles were stiff and white. “I...I should have stopped him. I should have protected Zuko. He was just a child, you know? And he was so afraid...”
Iroh gazed at the grass between his feet. Tiny flowers shuddered and danced in the breeze.
“Ozai...did not show him mercy,” he said, voice ominous. “After the duel, Zuko’s refusal to fight was pronounced weak and disgraceful—behaviors unfit for a prince of the Fire Nation. And so, the Fire Lord banished him. He was tasked with capturing the avatar,” he noted grimly, turning to Aang. “A purposely impossible mission at the time, since you had been missing for over a hundred years with no sign of returning. It was meant to keep Zuko from ever coming back to the Fire Nation. But Ozai claimed that if Zuko found you and brought you to him, he would restore his son’s honor and welcome him home with open arms.” He looked away, face solemn. “And that is what he’s been trying to do ever since.”
Appa grunted from his shady spot by the river. The air between the four friends suddenly felt cold. It was a lot to process. It explained a few of the things many of them had always been confused about when it came to Zuko, but gave rise to multiple entirely new questions they’d never even thought to consider. Katara lifted her hand toward her left eye.
“Is that…” she began reluctantly. “You said a family member gave that to him—the scar on his face.”
Iroh blinked slowly, miserably. “Yes,” he replied. “His father did that to him. He burned his own son while he lay prostrate before him, pleading for mercy.” His eyebrows furrowed together. “Out of all the horrors I’ve witnessed throughout this war, watching my brother scar and banish that boy is among the cruelest. I doubt the memory will ever leave my mind.”
Shocked silence gripped the group. So that was where Zuko’s scar had come from. Not a training misfire, not some careless childhood mistake—but an intentional brand from his father to mark him as an unwanted outsider. A couple more seconds passed before Sokka scoffed, throwing his hands in the air.
“This is insane! If Ozai really did do all these terrible things to him, then why is he so obsessed with capturing Aang and returning home? If I was Zuko, I’d be relieved to be banished and away from that psycho. The guy’s a total monster!”
Iroh released a slow breath. “It is hard to understand my nephew’s logic from the outside. But please, try to put yourself in his position. He was cast out—renounced and rebuked by his home and his people, those he had been taught to depend on. His own father disowned him. One tiny mistake cost him everything: the crown, his honor, and his family. Now, exiled from his country, where else can he hope to go? The entire world despises the Fire Nation for the atrocities they have committed. As the banished son of the Fire Lord, no nation is safe for Zuko. He believes his only choice is to bring his father the avatar. That only he can restore everything he lost. That if he can complete the mission Ozai bestowed upon him, their relationship will somehow be different. He thinks he is capable of winning the Fire Lord’s love by delivering you to him. It gives him hope.”
The old man withered. “I don’t have the heart to tell him the truth, to take that hope away. Even if I did, it wouldn’t change his mind. He would continue this poisonous path without me, searching and fighting until he destroyed himself. I’m doing what I can to support him until he discovers the truth on his own.”
Iroh’s anecdote hung over their heads like storm clouds. Katara narrowed her eyes in thought, drumming her fingers against her bowl.
“What if he never comes to that conclusion?” she said coldly. “How many more people does he have to hurt or villages does he have to burn down for you to decide he isn’t worth it?”
Iroh met her gaze, his jaw tight. She thought he was going to snarl or shout, like he had in the tent with Zuko. Instead, he relaxed into a smile.
“He will change. I know it. I’ve seen what he’s capable of. He was such a sweet and happy child before my brother got ahold of him and twisted him up.” He grinned at Aang. “He was a lot like you, actually. Bright and joyful and kind. I wish you all could have seen him then. Perhaps you’d understand why I haven’t given up on him yet.”
“Really?” Aang said, beaming. “Wow. I’m having a hard time imagining that.”
The old man chuckled, then stared across the circle of young faces. “I’m not asking any of you to forgive my nephew for what he’s done. I’m not asking you to make excuses for him or to pity him. I just wanted to grant you some insight into the person he is, and why he acts the way he does today. You’ve already been more kind to him than I ever could have anticipated, which shows what honorable individuals you are. I am forever grateful to each of you.” His expression softened. “Zuko is too, even if he doesn’t seem it. Because of the way he was raised, he can’t comprehend the idea that others would show him compassion without it being earned, or without some sinister ulterior motive in mind. Your kindness is entirely foreign to him, so don’t take his aversion to it personally.”
This was exactly what Katara had been afraid of. That if they learned more about Zuko’s past, they’d start to realize he wasn’t the sick, totally irredeemable person they believed him to be. She wanted to hate him—wanted to see him as nothing but an obstacle in their path, a soulless enemy to defeat. But it was hard to do after hearing his life’s story.
“If only Zuko had been surrounded by people like you growing up,” Iroh continued wistfully. “You all have such good hearts.”
Sokka swirled his boomerang in the air. “Yeah—too bad we all couldn’t live it up in the Fire Nation palace together, celebrating global tyranny and singing kumbaya around the fire.”
Iroh hinted a somber smile, then rose to his feet. “I’m going to see if I can get my nephew to eat something,” he said, ladling another helping of soup into his bowl and pouring a second cup of tea. “Have a delightful afternoon, all of you.”
With that, he strolled back into the earth tent, humming a quiet tune to himself. The group was left to wallow in the tsunami of information they now knew about their arch nemesis.
Eventually, Sokka huffed. “Well, if there’s anything we’ve learned from this bizarre little misadventure, it’s that the Fire Lord is literally the worst in every way imaginable, and deserves everything he’s got coming his way.”
“No kidding,” Toph agreed, cracking her toes.
Aang pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but...I kinda feel bad for Zuko.”
“Don’t,” Katara snapped, scowling at the fire. “We’ve all had hard lives. We’ve all been hurt and lost things we cared about. You don’t see any of us attacking towns or terrorizing innocent people.”
“But we were raised by good people,” Aang pointed out. “Even when we disagreed with them or fought with them, we never doubted that they loved us.” He rested his chin on his knees. “Zuko didn’t have that. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of change.”
“A lot of people are capable of a lot of things,” Katara retorted. “That doesn’t mean they’re ever going to do the right thing and actually commit to being better.”
Aang blinked at her, then gazed into the flickering flames. “Not if you don’t give them the chance...”
He considered telling them the truth about that day in the Earth Kingdom. When Zuko had broken him out of Zhao’s prison, saving his life—and, unknowingly, Sokka and Katara’s. If Aang hadn’t escaped and gotten those frogs to them, they could have died. The only reason the three of them were sitting together today, alive and well, was because of Zuko’s help.
But before Aang had the chance to speak, Katara scoffed and stood, marching toward the river.
“Katara?” he called. “Where are you going?”
“Swimming,” she answered without looking back. “After today, I seriously need a bath.”
He watched her stomp away, then exhaled defeatedly. Maybe he was being naive. Maybe Zuko wouldn’t change. But while the Fire Nation prince was stuck here with them, he’d try his best to be patient and kind to him—perhaps to the point where it no longer felt so foreign.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Iroh went back into the woods to forage for more tea leaves and herbs before the sun went down, leaving Zuko alone in the stone tent. While the others were off busying themselves around their campsite, Aang crept into the dark structure. He intended to pop in for only a moment to grab some nuts from his bag, but froze in the doorway at the sight he stumbled upon.
Zuko was facing the back wall of the tent, sitting with his legs crossed and his spine straight. Four small candles were arranged in front of him, their flames rising and falling in sync with Zuko’s steady breathing. Aang immediately recognized the familiar scene.
“You’re meditating!” he exclaimed. Zuko flinched in surprise, the candlelight flaring and rippling, casting wild shadows across the walls. He turned on him lividly.
“Don’t scare me like that!” he shouted. “I almost torched you alive!”
“Sorry!” Aang said, grinning shyly as he stepped closer. “But you are meditating, right?”
Zuko huffed and turned back toward the wall, rubbing his wounded shoulder. “I’m trying to,” he said pointedly, re-assuming his sturdy position.
“That’s awesome!” Aang said, bounding to stand by his side. “I never would’ve pegged you as someone who meditates.”
Aang thought he remembered Zuko mentioning meditation back in the South Pole, but it seemed so out of character for him. He never expected to actually witness the hotheaded prince putting it into practice.
Zuko looked uncomfortable and irritated by Aang’s presence. He tried to ignore him, but the avatar wasn’t making it easy. The twelve-year-old stood over him, smiling from ear to ear.
“I meditate too. Every day, in fact! Meditation is a sacred tradition among Air Nomads. The monks always said it’s a great way to strengthen one’s discipline, inner peace, and spirituality.”
The flames danced and flickered, mirroring Zuko’s aggravation. “Then you should know how important it is to be quiet when someone’s trying to concentrate!” He jabbed his finger toward the exit. “Get out of here!”
Aang was beginning to realize that Zuko yelled a lot, but there wasn’t any real bite behind it. At least, not in his current condition. So for now, he wasn’t going to let it faze him.
Ignoring Zuko’s demands, he plopped down beside him, making the royal teenager start. “Can I meditate with you?”
Zuko blinked, looking appalled. “What?” he gawked. “No!”
“Why not?” Aang asked, settling into his own meditation position with his fists pressed together and his eyes closed.
“Because—because you’re going to distract me!” he cried. “There’s a million other places for you to do it besides here! Why don’t you go meditate with one of your obnoxious friends?”
“None of them practice meditation,” he explained simply. “Back at the Western Air Temple, me and the other monks used to meditate in a group, all of us sitting and breathing together in perfect harmony. I haven’t meditated with someone else for over a hundred years.” He opened one eye and hinted a sad smile. “I miss it a lot. I think it’d be nice.”
Zuko scowled at him, but it seemed more thoughtful than angry. Scowling also appeared to be a thing he did by default, not as an intentional expression of aggression. He could see him searching for a motive, a scheme, some kind of backhanded revenge plot in the avatar’s innocent request. He really did second guess every gesture of kindness offered to him.
The firebender looked ready to blow a gasket, or snag his quartet of candles and stomp out the door. Instead, he exhaled forcefully, growling under his breath like a komodo rhino with a headache.
“If you’re quiet enough that I forget you’re here, I don’t care what you do,” he grumbled.
Aang beamed, flinging his hands in the air. “Hooray!” he cheered. He leaned forward with a grin. “I like your hair, by the way.”
Zuko’s eyes popped open and flitted towards him bewilderedly. “W-what?” he stammered, as if that was the most absurd thing anyone had ever said to him.
“Your new hair! It looks nice. A lot better than the bald ponytail thing you had going on before. It’s so cute and fuzzy now. I like it!”
Again, Aang watched the wheels in Zuko’s head turn, trying to find some convoluted ploy masquerading behind his friendly words. He couldn’t even take a tiny compliment without drowning in doubt and suspicion? It was as heartbreaking as it was endearing.
Once the prince deduced the avatar’s nice comment posed no immediate threat, but was simply a genuine approval of his change in appearance, his expression softened. “Oh,” he said. He stared at the wall, warmth rising in his cheeks. “Well, um...thanks. I guess.”
“Of course!” Aang chirped. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Zuko sweeping a timid hand through his hair, and felt pretty proud of himself.
“I like your hair, too,” Zuko said after an awkward pause. “Did you...do something new with it?”
Aang stared at him blankly. His delivery was so bland and clumsy, it took the avatar a full five seconds to realize that Zuko was attempting to make a joke. Immediately, he busted out laughing—not because the joke was good, necessarily, but because Zuko had actually tried to make one, and his effort was so hysterically ungraceful.
“Ehahaha!” Aang cackled, hugging himself around the middle. “Good one, Zuko! I didn’t know you could be funny!”
The tiniest of smiles lifted one corner of Zuko’s mouth before vanishing without a trace. He made an oval with his hands, pressing his thumbs and middle fingers together, then straightened his spine. “Now be quiet,” he ordered bluntly, inhaling and releasing a slow, centering breath.
Aang grinned and reflected his pose. Zuko was still a little shivery and sweaty from his fever, but both were growing less severe as Uncle’s tea worked its magic. The room fell silent except for the soft flickering of the fire and their synchronous breathing, and stayed that way for the next hour.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The avatar was the first one to break their vigil, floating to his feet and bounding out of the tent like a miniature whirlwind. “Thanks for letting me join you, Zuko!” he called cheerfully, then darted outside.
Zuko...didn’t know what to make of their interaction. He and the avatar were adversaries. He’d told him he wasn’t going to stop hunting him. As soon as he was healed, their little game of cat owl and spider mouse would pick right back up from where it had left off.
So what had compelled him to come in here and meditate by his side?
Not only that—he’d opened up to him about his past, his culture, the society that raised him. The very people Zuko’s forefathers were responsible for wiping out. Was he trying to appeal to his humanity, guilt him into abandoning his mission to capture the avatar?
And what was with the whole complimenting his hair thing?
The whole exchange left Zuko feeling off. He didn’t want to think about what would become of that peppy little kid once he delivered him into the hands of his father. Avatar or not, he was so agonizingly young.
But tricky, as well. And conniving, all of them. Just like Azula. He wouldn’t let them get in his head. For however long he was trapped here, he’d avoid interacting with them unless it was absolutely necessary. He couldn’t afford any more distractions.
“How are you feeling, Prince Zuko?” Uncle’s voice asked from behind him. “Have you managed to eat or sleep at all? I found some basil and turmeric to add to your tea. I know you don’t care for either, but they should help settle your stomach.”
Zuko turned toward him, grimacing as the movement sent little sparks of pain zipping through his muscles. “I’m going to sleep outside tonight.”
Iroh raised an eyebrow as he prepared the ingredients for the brew. “I don’t know if the avatar and his friends will approve. They wish to keep you contained and in sight, understandably, and—”
“I don’t care what they want!” he interjected. “I’m not sleeping in here with all of them. I won’t be able to.”
Uncle sighed exasperatedly. “Prince Zuko. They are already being very considerate. They’ve given you space and leave you to your business unrestrained.” He wafted the fumes from the pot toward his nose and breathed deeply. “If I were them, I would have chained both of us up. We aren't exactly trustworthy company.”
“I’m not sitting in this stupid tent anymore,” he growled. He braced one hand against the wall and tried to push himself upright, groaning and straining with effort.
Uncle rushed to his aid, wrapping an arm around his waist and hoisting him to his feet. Zuko wanted to push him away, but there was no way he could stay standing without his help.
“All right—easy now, nephew.”
He took one step forward, and almost immediately collapsed. Pain bloomed across the bottom of his foot and shot up his leg like an explosion going off in his bones. He listed forward, dizzy and nauseous, gasping for breath.
“Do not put any weight on your left side,” Iroh insisted. “Let me support you.”
“Th-this is...infuriating,” he hissed, panting. “Why am I still so weak?”
“It has only been a day, my prince. You must give yourself time to heal.” He slung his nephew’s arm over his shoulder and bore him forward. “Come on. We’ll go slow.”
Any progress toward the exit basically required Zuko to hop on his good leg. The violent motion still jarred him, but he managed to keep going, pausing in between to let the pain subside to a manageable level. Iroh would rather he let one of kids carry him out of the tent, but Zuko would sooner hop himself to death than allow that.
Once they breached the doorway, their little limping routine turned the heads of everyone outside. Katara stood up, hands balled into fists at her side.
“What’s going on?” she said.
“Zuko needed some fresh air,” Iroh explained, grunting beneath his nephew’s weight. He was basically doing all the work required to move him away from the tent. The prince hung off him loosely, grimacing in pain, a line of sweat glistening along his forehead. His face was abnormally pale and blanching whiter and whiter with every cloddish hop forward.
“Do you need…help?” Sokka asked hesitantly.
Iroh forced a smile. “No, we—” he began, but Zuko was sagging lower and lower, a quiet moan rising from his lips. “—Zuko? Are you all right?”
The teen’s head was suddenly spinning like a top. Gravity was pulling on him two times stronger than usual. His wounds throbbed and ached in protest. He’d barely walked two steps away from the tent, but apparently that was all his stupid body could tolerate right now.
“Ugh…can’t…l-lemme...down…” he whimpered.
Alarm pricked Iroh’s heart. “Okay, okay. Here.”
He eased him carefully to the ground. Zuko slumped against the outer wall of the tent, panting harshly, gripping his leg with one hand and his chest with the other.
“What’s wrong?” Iroh asked, kneeling in front of him and cupping his palm against his pallid face.
“He doesn’t look good,” Aang noted uneasily.
Once she realized he wasn’t going to be doing anything threatening in his current state, Katara’s muscles uncoiled. “He shouldn’t be moving,” she said, stepping closer. “Especially if he hasn’t been able to eat anything today.”
“He’s been too nauseous to,” the old man said, fear creeping into his voice. He gave his cheek a few light pats. “Zuko—hey! Talk to me! Tell me what’s going on.”
His eyelids fluttered sluggishly as he fought to stay conscious and slow his rapid breathing. “Just...lightheaded,” he slurred, squeezing his shoulder and gritting his teeth. “Ugh...h-hurts…”
Iroh turned to Sokka. “I’ve prepared some tea for him inside the tent. Please—if you could—”
“Right,” Sokka said, hurrying into the stone structure. He reappeared a few moments later with the kettle and cup in hand.
“Thank you,” Iroh breathed. He filled the cup and held it to Zuko’s lips. “Here, nephew. Drink. It will help you feel better.”
Zuko wrinkled his nose but did as he was told. He abhorred the fact that he was acting so pathetic and weak—and in front of his enemies, no less—but he was so woozy, and everything hurt, and he just wanted it to stop. The tea was hot on his tongue and left a sour aftertaste in the back of his throat. He made a face and found himself missing Uncle’s classic jasmine brew.
“Blech,” he said.
“I know,” Iroh conceded sympathetically. Katara offered him a bowl, and he lifted the edge to Zuko’s mouth. “Have some water.”
Zuko braved a few small sips then pushed it away. He was still queasy and didn’t want to risk overwhelming his upset stomach. The black fuzz pressing into his peripheral vision was slowly beginning to retreat, and the world was no longer dipping and tilting around him. But he was still so tired. He rested his head against the tent, struggling to keep his eyes open, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth.
“You must try to eat something,” Uncle insisted. “A couple bites of bread, soup—anything.”
Zuko recoiled at the thought of food. It was the last thing he was in the mood for right now. “I’m fine,” he grumbled breathlessly, sweat slipping down his face. “Just...lemme sit for a...a minute…”
“You will never recover your strength unless you eat,” Iroh said softly. He tore a piece of bread in half, took his nephew’s hand, and placed it in his palm. “Please, Prince Zuko.”
The firebender stared at the bread miserably. He looked so ill and weak—even Katara was nicked with pity at the sight. He must’ve been desperate to feel better if he was letting his uncle order him around without throwing a fit.
Zuko wished there weren’t so many eyes on him right now, watching him lie half-conscious against the tent, barely able to hold his head up, shivering with pain and sickness as he nibbled defeatedly on the bread in his hands. Azula’s mocking voice echoed in his ears—weak, pathetic, miserable failure. Father’s piercing glare bore down on him, radiating disgust and disappointment.
But Uncle was with him, pressed against his side, telling him everything was going to be okay as he gently guided his head to his shoulder.
“Don’t...wait...” Zuko whined. But once he was leaned against him, he felt himself starting to drift. Sleepiness curled around him like a warm blanket. Iroh pulled the bread from his limp fingers and ran his thumb along his cheek.
“Just rest here a moment. I will help you move once you have the energy to stand.”
But Zuko made the mistake of closing his eyes. It was meant to be for only a moment, but after they slipped shut, he couldn’t get them to open again. As Iroh anticipated, his nephew was soon asleep. He pulled a rag from his pocket and mopped the fever sweat from his forehead.
“Did he just...pass out?” Toph asked.
“He hasn’t slept since last night,” Iroh said, watching his nephew snooze against his shoulder with a tender fondness in his eyes. “He’s always been so stubborn, never resting until he’s completely burnt out or unless it is forced upon him—even when his body desperately needs it.”
Aang found the sight endearing. Katara thought the old man’s concern for his nephew was misplaced but sweet. Sokka narrowed his eyes, opening the tea pot and gingerly sniffing its contents. His jaw dropped.
“Did you drug him?”
Iroh chuckled lightly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “An old trick his mother used to use when he couldn’t get to sleep as a child. Add a tiny dash of dragon thistle root to his tea, and he is out like a light.”
While the others reeled over the old man’s well-intentioned but semi-conniving actions, Katara’s mind honed in on one word: mother. During Iroh’s entire soapbox about Zuko’s past, he’d never once mentioned his mom. What did she think about her son? Was she like Ozai? Cold and heartless, happy to exile her own child in favor of her more powerful daughter? Or was she different? What part did she play in the strange, tragic menagerie of Zuko’s life?
Iroh smiled at the children. “Would one of you please grab a blanket for me, if you don’t mind?”
“Sure!” Aang said, darting past him. Katara stared at Zuko’s sleeping face and decided not to ask about his mother. She already knew more about him than she wanted to as it was. And the more she learned, the harder it was to hate him.
Aang returned with the linens. Iroh gathered his nephew into his arms and carefully laid him down, tossing the blanket over his body and pulling it up to his chin.
“Hopefully he sleeps through the night,” he said. It was funny to watch the person they fought and feared as an enemy be treated like a precious little baby by his uncle.
“I’ll heal him again tomorrow morning,” Katara said, then stalked into the tent without another word.
Her friends hesitated, then followed her inside. Iroh stayed beside his nephew, matching his breathing to his.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Zuko woke up screaming.
He’d suffered from night terrors since Mom had disappeared without a trace, and they’d only gotten worse since his banishment. He dreamed of her face being swallowed up in flames, of the ground turning to tar beneath him and dragging him into suffocating darkness, of his father scorching his eye again and again and again, the smell and the pain all too real.
And now, he was dreaming of Azula. Eyes dark and remorseless as she shot lighting into the hearts of those he loved, sending Mom and Uncle toppling to the ground in smoking heaps before turning on him. He was lucky if he got through the night without shooting awake in a cold sweat at least one.
When the lightning struck him, Zuko bolted upright, a terrified shout leaping from his throat. But something clapped over his mouth to stop it from escaping. Whatever it was was shaped like a hand, but it had the texture of rock. Panicked, fire flared from his fingertips. He made a grab for the stranger’s arm, but something caught his hands before they reached it, trapping them at his sides. He squirmed and cursed, voice muffled, heart racing.
“It’s okay,” a girl’s voice said. “Shh. It’s me.”
A young face took shape in the darkness. Black hair and pale, faded eyes. It was the tiny earthbender that had showed up at the fight between Azula, the avatar, and himself. She must have joined their group while they were traveling through the Earth Kingdom. So far, the two of them had avoided direct confrontation—or rather, any interaction whatsoever.
“I heard you. From the tent. And, uh, felt you shaking. I didn’t want you to wake anyone else up.”
Zuko stopped struggling, his breathing quick and his eyes blinking. Slowly, she took her palm away from his mouth. It was shrouded in rock, perhaps in case he tried any breath-related firebending moves. With a flick of her wrist, the earth restraints fell away from his hands.
“Sorry for scaring you. I just figured you wouldn’t want anyone else hearing that, and I didn’t wanna get fried in the process of shutting you up.”
Zuko studied her in a fuzzy, flustered haze, panting quietly. “Oh,” he stammered. “Uh, r-right.” His bones were quaking under his skin. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears. He scrubbed a hand across his face and started when it came away wet. He touched under his eyes and realized his cheeks were damp with tears. Shame burned up his throat as he dried them frantically and turned away. “Um, s-sorry for waking you.”
She stared at him in silence. Well, not exactly stared—not with her eyes, at least. But he could feel her feeling him, gauging his movements, his voice. She probably knew he’d been crying. She barely looked a day older than the avatar, but exuded the power and poise of a master bender, all while retaining the appearance and quirkiness of a child.
Which was weird. Because as far as he could tell, she was totally blind.
“Well...goodnight,” he said, voice brittle. But she didn’t move. And he didn’t lay back down.
“They have them too, you know.”
He glanced at her bemusedly. “What?”
“Nightmares. They get them too. Aang, Katara, Sokka.”
He scoffed lightly, rubbing his eyes. “And you don’t?”
She grimaced at the ground. “Not like they do. I had a difficult home life, but...it’s different.”
He gripped his arms at the elbows and stared off to the side. He wasn’t sure what she was looking to get out of this conversation.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
Zuko wrinkled his brow. “About what?” he said.
“Your nightmare.”
Heat flushed across Zuko’s skin. “No,” he said sharply, glaring between his feet.
Toph shrugged. “That’s fine. Just thought I’d extend the offer. I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”
The girl grinned. Zuko narrowed his eyes. Was that supposed to be a joke? He kneaded gingerly at his shoulder.
“I’m fine,” he growled, wincing when he touched a particularly sore spot. “You can go away now.”
“I’m Toph,” she said, ignoring him enthusiastically. “I don’t think we’ve formally met.”
Why don’t any of these people ever listen to a word I say? he thought bitterly. Also, I’ve never formally met any of you. He heaved a small sigh.
“Hello,” he deadpanned. “Now get lost.”
“My friends don’t seem to like you, but I judge people for myself.” She flexed her feet in the grass absentmindedly. “And yeah, hunting Aang isn’t cool, but I don’t think you’re as bad as they make you out to be.”
Zuko was caught off guard by her blunt but oddly nice statement. He tried not to let it show, masking his surprise behind a scowl.
“I don’t care what you or your friends think of me,” he snapped, bunching the blanket in his fists. “Just leave me alone!”
“See, you put on this scary, tough facade, but I don’t think that’s really you,” she continued. “It's a defense mechanism.”
Zuko fumed. “Are you blind and deaf? Go away! You don’t know me. Stop pretending like you do!”
“But I do know you,” she insisted. “You try to push others away so they can never get close enough to hurt you. You think by being mean and abrasive and keeping them at a distance, you’re protecting yourself. But really, you’re just making yourself more lonely.”
The firebender’s heart skipped a beat. Toph could tell she’d struck a chord. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish stranded on land, her words bouncing around in his head, freakishly insightful for someone who barely looked ten.
“I know you because you’re like me,” she explained. “We’re not good at feelings and all that dumb mushy crap. We think doing everything on our own makes us stronger than accepting help from others. But I’m starting to learn that’s not always true.”
Was she baiting him? Trying to rile him up to the point that he attacked, granting her an excuse to kill him? Or was she truly speaking from the heart? Her observation stung a bit too deep to not be genuine, and sounded a little too familiar for his taste.
Like Uncle.
But he refused to dwell on it. He wouldn’t; he couldn’t. Stunned confusion was quickly superseded by prickling irritation. He scoffed indignantly.
“You’re crazy,” he spat. “You’re a child. You don’t know anything.”
Toph crossed her arms and smirked. “Then that makes two of us.”
Flames roiled in Zuko’s belly. “What?”
“Hey!” a voice called from the tent. Zuko turned and spotted Sokka peeking out from the darkness, an angry line twitching between his eyebrows. “Some of us around here are trying to sleep! Why are you guys yelling?” He stepped through the doorway with his boomerang cocked behind his head, glaring sleepily at Zuko. “Is Prince Angry Jerk here causing trouble?”
“I’m not doing anything,” he snarled, gesturing to Toph. “Your obnoxious little friend won’t leave me alone.”
“We’re fine,” she assured him. “I was just informing Zuko that his whole ‘bad guy’ charade is stupid, along with his entire mindset about everything.”
Smoke hissed from his nostrils and coiled from his fists. “Why, you little—”
“Ah-ah!” Sokka interjected, waving his boomerang threateningly. “Don’t even think about it.”
Zuko threw his hands in the air. “What, I’m just supposed to sit here while she calls me stupid to my face?”
“Precisely,” Sokka said, sitting beside Toph. His hair was out of its usual ponytail and hanging in his eyes, forcing him to tuck it behind his ears every now and then. Zuko had never seen the Water Tribe boy with hair down before. It was a lot longer than he expected.
Sokka bumped his shoulder against the earthbender’s. “Is this late night insult Zuko hour or something? Because I’m totally in, and very upset I didn’t receive an invitation.”
“I’m not trying to insult him,” Toph insisted. “I’m just telling him the truth.”
“What you’re doing is asking to get fried beyond recognition,” he spat viciously. Sokka leaned toward him and squinted.
“Why are your eyes red?” he asked. His brows shot toward his hairline. “Have you been crying?”
Zuko’s scowl dissolved into a look of panic. He’d tried to push the horrific nightmare from his mind, but the damage it had reaped was evidently still lingering. Drenched in milky moonlight, Sokka had never seen the Fire Nation prince look so scared and distraught before. Humiliation sawed at Zuko’s insides. He grappled for something to say—a quick and scathing retort. But his throat was seizing up, and a fresh bout of tears welled in his eyes.
“I…” he began, voice shivery. Toph punched Sokka in the arm.
“Lay off,” she scolded him. “He startled me when I came out here to take a whizz, so I kicked dirt in his eyes. That’s all.”
Zuko turned to her in disbelief, blinking. She hinted a small smile that disappeared just as quickly. Relief drizzled over his heart.
“Oh,” Sokka said, rubbing his shoulder, glancing between them skeptically. “Right.” He recognized immediately that they weren’t telling him what was really going on, but decided not to press the matter. If Toph thought it important to keep under wraps, he trusted her.
Zuko kneaded his eyes with the heels of his hands and avoided his gaze, feeling sticky and exposed. Why would she lie for me? he wondered. How does that benefit her? Wouldn’t she want to humiliate her enemy every chance she got? To show her friends how weak and pathetic he really was? Maybe she wanted him indebted to her. Or to have something over him to use as blackmail.
Whatever the reason, he was relieved. For now, at least. A part of him wanted to thank her. He stared into her foggy eyes for a moment, hoping she understood.
Toph responded by crossing her arms and grinning wide. “Anyway, back to you being stupid,” she said spiritedly.
The prince deflated with a groan. So much for being grateful. “Seriously?” he exclaimed, his rage blossoming back to life.
“You make no sense to me,” she continued unperturbed. “You're trying to capture Aang and bring him home to your dad so he’ll love and accept you, right?”
Zuko was off-put by the direct address. So was Sokka. The firebender huffed irately. “I’m not talking to you about this.”
“But it sorta seems like he’s been awful to you even before you were banished.”
The prince wasn’t sure how much she or others knew about his situation, but already it sounded like more than he was comfortable with. He gritted his teeth.
“Be quiet!” he barked. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You want a father who cares about you and understands you,” Toph said with a snort. “Trust me: I get it. My parents still think I’m some helpless little blind girl, not a butt-kicking, earthbending champion.”
Zuko glared daggers through Toph. “Our situations aren’t the same. My father does care about me. Once I bring him the avatar, he’ll accept me as his son, and my honor will be restored.”
Toph blew a tuft of hair out of her face and dropped her chin into her hand. Sokka rolled his eyes.
“No offense, Prince Jerkbender, but your dad is kind of the worst.”
Zuko turned away from them, hissing with pain and frustration. “This is why I’m not talking to you about this! None of you could ever understand!”
“What we don’t understand is why you’re set on getting your terrible father to like you when you already have someone who loves and accepts you right now!” Sokka cried, exasperated.
A shock went through Zuko’s system. He swallowed, gripping his wound and hunching his shoulders.
“What...w-what are you talking about?” he murmured.
Toph scoffed. “Um...your uncle?” she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the universe. “You know, the guy who left the Fire Nation to help you? Who travels around the world with you and supports you no matter how badly you treat him? The man who makes you tea and comforts you when you’re sick and tucks you into bed at night?”
“And who convinced us to help you even though we really didn’t want to?” Sokka added.
Zuko’s chest tightened. Anxiety and confusion and an avalanche of other emotions churned inside his gut. He grimaced at the ground.
“He cares about you. Like, openly, aggressively cares about you. It’s as annoying as it is sweet.” Toph tilted her head to the side. “Why are you so determined to earn your dad’s love, when your uncle already loves you as you are?”
The prince didn’t look at them. He watched a beetle crawl over a rock, his fingers shivering against his aching shoulder. He inhaled sharply, then laid across the ground, yanking the blanket over his head and curling into himself.
Sokka glanced at Toph, then back at Zuko, then sighed. It looked like there was no getting through to him. The earthbender rose to her feet.
“Drink some more of your uncle’s tea,” she demanded, then strode back into the tent. “G’night.”
Sokka was quick to follow her, yawning as he stepped into the darkness, shooting one last look over his shoulder.
Zuko shuddered alone beneath the stars, blinking back tears. A few restless minutes later, he heated up Uncle’s teapot, choked down another cup of boiling, bitter liquid, then nestled against the grass, praying that the rest of his night would be dreamless. That is, if he ever managed to fall asleep again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Is it just me, or is Zuko...kind of awkward?”
Katara stopped fixing her hair mid-braid, scoffing. “What? What do you mean?”
Aang stretched and smiled, the morning sunlight pouring in through the doorway gilding his limbs in a golden halo. “Yesterday, while we were meditating, I told him I liked his new hair. And he totally didn’t know how to respond—as if he’s never been complimented by anyone besides his uncle before. It was hilarious!”
Sokka shot upright, mouth hanging agape. “Wait—‘we?’” he exclaimed. “As in, you were meditating together?”
“Yeah! Zuko practices meditation just like me! Isn’t that cool?”
Katara frowned. “That’s...weird. He’s the last person I’d expect to see meditating. Especially with you.”
“I know, right?” Aang giggled. “The best part was, when I told him I liked his hair, he said he liked mine, too. Like, as a joke! Because I’m bald!” He laughed brightly. “It was so bad, but that only made it funnier!”
Katara huffed, tying off the end of her braid. “Well I’m glad you had fun with the guy who’s going to try imprisoning you the moment he can walk again.”
Aang winced at her coldness. “I’m just saying, Katara. If you’re patient and give him the chance, you’ll see there’s more to him than ‘angry scary firebender prince.’ He’s more human than you might think.”
When Katara simply rolled her eyes, Toph decided to speak up.
“So, don’t tell him I told you guys this, but...I had a chat with him last night. He had a really bad nightmare, and the sound of his cries woke me up.”
Sokka hopped to his feet. “Ha! I knew you were lying! I may not have lie-detecting feet, but I know a fib when I hear one.” His excitement was short lived, however. He backtracked with a troubled look, eyeing the doorway. “Oh...does that mean I was right before? You know...about him crying?”
Aang’s eyes bulged out of his head. “Wait—Zuko was crying?”
Everyone’s gazes veered toward Toph. The tiny earthbender nodded solemnly, her expression grim. “He was screaming in his sleep. I had to cover his mouth to stop him from waking all of you up.” She scratched the back of her neck. “He was...calling for his mom. Begging her to come back. I don’t know what happened to her, or what their relationship is like, but…” she shook her head. “It was really sad.”
Silence veiled the room. Again, Katara felt torn in half by her usual eagerness to help those in pain and her hatred toward Zuko. Sokka put his hair up and placed his hands on his hips.
“The guy’s got a lot of issues, that’s for sure. Do I feel bad for him? Maybe, a little. Does it make me trust him any more than I did before? Absolutely not.”
“Exactly,” Katara said, glad she had her brother were back on the same page. Aang crossed his arms against his chest.
“But he has shown us he has more than one side. You guys saw more of his vulnerable side, and I got to see part of his calm and awkward side.” He snickered into his hand. “Man, you should’ve seen his face! He has no idea how to take a compliment. I don’t think anyone’s ever called him cute before.”
Katara stuck out her tongue. “Who would ever have a reason to?”
“Oh, come on! You have to admit his new haircut is better than his old one!”
Sokka snorted. “I think anything is better compared to that disaster, so you’re setting the bar pretty low.”
Aang beamed between his friends. “You all should try complimenting him sometime, if only to see his response. It catches him completely off guard.”
Sokka blew a raspberry and walked outside, stretching his arms over his head. Katara wrinkled her nose at Aang’s chipper attitude toward all of this. How many times did she have to remind him that Zuko was their enemy who wanted nothing more than to see him in chains. Even if she liked his new look, and had maybe had to stop herself from touching his hair while he was unconscious and no one else was around to see (it just looked so fuzzy!), no way would she ever say so out loud.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” she snapped. “Under no circumstances would I ever consider that monster cute.”
At that moment, Sokka popped back into the tent, looking both shocked and delighted at the same time. “Guys, you have got to come see this,” he said.
Katara and Aang exchanged a glance before following him. Toph came along too, although she had a feeling she already knew what he was referring to, based on the cluster of mismatched vibrations her feet were picking up.
The three friends tailed Sokka outside and stopped when they discovered a giant fluffy mountain resting in the sunrise. Appa had moved from his spot by the river and was now lying beside the earth tent. His ears perked up as they approached, but he didn’t raise his head. Aang didn’t understand what all the fuss was about, until Sokka coaxed him forward.
“Look,” he snickered.
Katara and the avatar peered over Appa’s large foot to find a very bizarre sight. A bunch of animals were gathered between Appa’s front legs—a skink quail, a prickle snake, a pair of dragonflies, and a family of turtle ducks, which was strange in itself. But underneath the zoo of wildlife was Zuko, curled up and sleeping peacefully with all the animals snuggled against him, as if they were his babies and he was their teenage firebending mama. Even Momo was there, nestled in the crook of Zuko’s neck and shoulder, purring contently.
“What the…?” Aang said, blinking.
“Right?” Sokka giggled.
“What exactly am I looking at right now?” Katara asked, her hands flying to her mouth in horror. “Oh no. He’s not—they’re not—eating him, are they?”
“He’s not dead, if that’s what you're asking,” Toph assured her. “His breathing and heartbeat actually feel better than they did yesterday.”
“They look like they’re just...cuddling him,” Aang said. He cupped his palms over his heart, melting with endearment. “Awww! That’s so sweet!”
“But why are they doing it?” Katara asked. The prickle snake was coiled into a spiral and resting on top of his belly. The four turtle ducks were pressed against his back, their tails tucked underneath his side. While the dragonflies occupied both of his arms, the skink quail burrowed itself in the bend of his knees. Appa had his nose against his shoulder blades and his toes under his head and feet, his deep breaths stirring Zuko’s hair.
Okay, it was cute. Sue her. It still made no sense.
“Maybe he...smells good?” Sokka suggested dubiously. “From something in his uncle’s tea?”
Aang sprung on top of Appa’s head and petted his fur. “Whatcha doing with Zuko, buddy? Do you like him? Does he smell nice?”
“Maybe it’s because of his fever,” Toph suggested, pressing one hand against the ground. “He still feels a lot warmer than the rest of you.”
“So they’re snuggling him to sap his fever heat?” Katara said, fighting back a smile. It was oddly endearing—watching the prince sleep, his wiry shape buried in woodland creatures. He looked like a spoiled little kid surrounded by toys, or some kind of mystical forest spirit communing with nature.
“Here Momo,” Aang called, hanging off Appa’s horn to try to scoop him up. Momo growled and hissed in protest, pressing closer to Zuko. His squirmy movements roused the slumbering firebender, making him wrinkle his brow and release a quiet moan.
Zuko blinked sluggishly, the grass and the flowers poking up from the earth gradually coming into focus. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, feeling clusters of tiny bodies shift with his movements. Oh, great, he thought. Not again. He pushed himself upright, grimacing from a sudden jolt of pain, careful not to squish any of the little creatures around him. When he lifted his bleary gaze, he was surprised to find four pairs of eyes gazing back, wide with confusion.
“Ah!” Zuko yelped, flinching backwards sharply. The turtle ducks and the dragonflies sprung away from him for a moment, then quickly reconvened, nuzzling against his limbs. Momo hopped on to his scalp, pawing at his messy bedhead, but Zuko barely seemed to notice. His shock shifted to puzzled anger. “What on earth? Why are all of you watching me sleep? Don’t you know how creepy that is?”
Sokka shrugged dramatically. “Huh, gee, I don’t know. Maybe because we walked out here to find you having a giant cuddly slumber party with an entire petting zoo’s worth of animals.”
“Which for some reason doesn’t seem to be weirding you out,” Katara added, watching Momo growl at the dragonflies from on top of Zuko’s head.
Aang and Toph giggled at the peculiar scene. Zuko glared between them lazily, stifling another yawn.
“It happens sometimes when I sleep out in the open,” he mumbled. “I don’t know why.” He winced when Appa nudged him in the back with his nose, as if he hadn’t noticed the enormous flying bison looming over him until now. Momo leapt from his head to his shoulder and licked his cheek.
“Wait—you mean this is a regular thing for you?” Aang floated to the ground in front of him, beaming. “Waking up and being surrounded by a bunch of animals?”
Zuko shrugged, scratching at his disheveled hair. “Sorta.”
The four friends just stared at him. He began to realize how strange this probably looked to people who didn’t have to deal with it on the regular. He cringed when Appa’s giant tongue lapped across the entirety of his back, plastering him in sticky saliva.
“Ugh! Gross!” Zuko shoved the bison’s enormous nose in disgust. “Get your slobbery pets away from me!”
“They like you!” Aang insisted, eyes sparkling. “Wow! You’re like an animal whisperer! Look at you, surrounded by cuddly wildlife! You’re so cute!”
To everyone’s delight, Zuko’s cheeks turned pink. Aang hadn’t been joking about the whole ‘can’t take a compliment’ thing.
“I’m not—it’s not—cute,” he grumbled. “It’s annoying.”
Frowning, he scooped the family of turtle ducks in his arms and placed them to the side, trying to look careless and angry while also being noticeably gentle. As soon as their feet touched the ground, they scurried back up his legs and into his lap with a chorus of quacks and chirps. His look of surprise made all four of them burst out laughing. Sokka grinned smugly.
“Face it, Zuko. You’re a prissy little prince whose angry royal yelling attracts flocks of baby animals to snuggle you to sleep. If that’s not cute, I don’t know what is.”
Zuko’s cheeks went from pink to red. Until now, none of them had ever seen the firebender full-on blush before. Couple that with the dragonflies flanking his sides, the skink quail fluffed against his knee, the prickle snake slithering toward his neck, and the turtle ducks quacking incessantly at Momo, it was a scene all of them wanted painted and framed to treasure forever. One of the dragonflies prodded at his hand, asking to be pet, and he begrudgingly obliged.
“Whatever,” he muttered shyly. “It’s not like I try to make them come. They just show up.”
Toph hummed in thought. “I figured they were snuggling you because of your fever, but if this happens pretty often, then I don’t know what’s causing it.”
“I’m telling you, it’s a royalty thing. Wild animals just really like aristocrats. Especially ones that sing.” Sokka leaned toward Zuko suspiciously. “Can you sing? Come on—belt out a tune for me.”
Ignoring him, Zuko lifted Momo off his shoulder and placed him on the ground. “I don’t feel like I have a fever anymore,” he said. “I think it broke last night.” The lemur warbled in disappointment and scampered away.
His chills were gone, along with the skull-splitting migraine. Now he only had the aches and pains of his lightning wound to worry about. It wasn’t much of an improvement, but it was better than no progress at all.
“You still feel warm to me,” Toph said skeptically. Katara reached forward and held her hand against his forehead, making him wince in surprise.
“Definitely warm,” Katara agreed. Zuko pulled away from her touch sourly.
“I don’t have a fever,” Zuko snapped. “I’m just naturally hot.”
Katara blinked at him. Sokka snorted behind his hand.
“Oh, is that so?” he snickered.
Zuko narrowed his eyes bemusedly. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s a firebender thing. We tend to run hotter than regular people.” He pushed at the dragonfly that was nibbling his ear. “But I’m unusually hot for some reason. Like, more so than normal firebenders.”
Now everyone was giggling. Zuko glanced between them with a puzzled frown, the double-sidedness of his words clearly not registering.
“What?”
Sokka waved dismissively, clutching his stomach. “Oh, nothing,” he chuckled. “That’s just a pretty bold statement to make about yourself.”
One of the turtle ducklings scuttled on top of Zuko’s leg. He stroked its tiny head with his thumb unconsciously, scowling.
“No it’s not,” he insisted. “It’s the truth. My uncle said so.”
Now the four kids were howling. Zuko started, eyes wide, then scoffed, balling his hands at his sides.
“What is so funny?”
“Are you sure your uncle’s not just saying that because he’s obligated to?” Katara giggled.
Toph cackled with her arms crossed. “Personally, I trust Iroh’s opinion. If he says Zuko’s hot, then I’ll take his word for it.”
Aang and Sokka doubled over with laughter, hugging their bellies as their shoulders bounced up and down. Zuko’s face burned as the realization gradually dawned on him.
“No, wait, th-that’s not what I…!” he began, but no one was listening to him. They were all too busy giggling like children at his simple slip-up. He sighed irritably, plucking the prickle snake from his shoulder and placing it in his palm. “You’re all so immature. You know I was talking about temperature...”
“Whatever you say, Prince Hotman,” Aang chuckled, bowing extravagantly. Zuko blushed and avoided their gazes, petting the snake bitterly.
“Aren’t you scared it’s going to bite you?” Toph asked, pointing to the serpent in his hand. “Prickle snakes are venomous.”
Zuko looked down at the small reptile. “They never have before,” he said casually, letting it curl and slither around his wrist.
“I think they like how warm you are,” she said. “That’s why they cuddle up to you to sleep. I guess it was pretty chilly last night.”
Without warning, Aang hopped over Appa’s leg and wrapped Zuko in a hug, making the prince recoil uncomfortably.
“Hey! W-what are you—?” he stammered.
“You’re right, Toph! He is really warm!” Aang nuzzled his head into Zuko’s shoulder, closing his eyes and grinning wide. “No wonder all the animals want to snuggle you! You’re like a big, cozy space heater!”
“Get off me!” he snapped, squirming and pushing the clingy airbender. The dragonflies hissed in protest, the turtle ducks squawked furiously, and the skink quail puffed into an angry little ball, cuing Appa to let out a guttural roar.
Feathers exploded from the skink quail as it took flight, flapping and fluttering in terror. The dragonflies screeched and zipped into the sky as the prickle snake sprung out of his hand and slithered into the brush. Quacking frantically, the turtle ducks scurried out of the prince’s lap, gunning for the river. In a matter of moments, all of the wildlife had fled the scene. Zuko blinked in surprise as Appa licked his hair, satisfied with his work.
“Appa! How rude!” Aang scolded the bison, his arms still curled around the wriggly firebender. “Space heaters are meant to be shared!”
“I am not a space heater!” Zuko retorted, shoving Aang’s face away with both hands. The others weren’t sure whether they should be concerned or amused. It was a pretty funny sight, watching the two diametrically opposed benders squabble like little kids.
To add to the humor of the situation, it was at that moment that Zuko’s stomach decided to release a long, loud growl. He and Aang both froze, startled by the sudden noise. Then the avatar laughed brightly.
“It sounds like the space heater needs some fuel!” he giggled, releasing Zuko from his hold and flitting on top of Appa’s foot. Zuko stared sideways sheepishly, gripping his belly, still rattled by the random cuddle attack. His stomach continued to rumble against his fingertips, pleading for anything besides tea. He’d forgotten that he’d hardly eaten yesterday. Now that he was no longer nauseous, he was really beginning to feel the effects.
“Do you have an appetite at all?” Katara asked. “We have fish and berries and a little bit of bread. You need to get some food in your system if you can.”
Zuko shrugged, trying to look casual. “I guess,” he mumbled. A second later, his tummy practically roared, causing heat to rush to his ears.
“I think the monster in your stomach speaks for itself,” Sokka snickered. His friends chuckled alongside him. Zuko squeezed his belly tighter, as if he could smother it into silence.
Katara tugged on the avatar’s sleeve. “Aang, why don’t you go grab him some breakfast while Sokka and I move him into the tent?”
Aang brightened. “Okay!” He formed a ball of air underneath his body and sprung onto it, balancing on top with one foot and zipping away like some kind of crazy performer in a freaky circus act. Toph followed after him, yawning and stretching.
Zuko looked uneasy as the two Water Tribe siblings approached. Appa nuzzled his back with his nose in an almost encouraging manner.
“Can you walk at all, or do you want us to carry you?”
The prince glowered. “I’m not going back in the tent,” he hissed. “And you’re not carrying me.”
“You need another healing session. I figured you’d want some privacy.” Katara rolled her eyes. “But if you want to do it out here, grouchy pants, we can.”
Zuko thought on it for a moment. He supposed he’d prefer not having eight eyes watching as the Water Tribe girl put her weird glowy healing hands all over him. He looked up at the bison, who had angled his head toward him in an oddly convenient manner.
“Fine,” he mumbled. He grabbed hold of Appa’s horn and used it to lift his body off the ground, straining and sputtering. Once he was upright, he sagged against the fluffy monster, sweat beading across his brow, face flushed with effort. Appa stayed still for him, perfectly content being a two-ton support stand for the tiny, warm human.
Katara and Sokka shared a look before flanking Zuko on either side, wrapping their arms under his and bearing the majority of his weight. They walked him toward the tent, letting his feet touch the ground so he didn’t feel like he was being carried even though that was essentially what was happening.
“Wow, Aang was right,” Sokka observed. “You are really warm. Just like a—”
“If you say space heater, I’m lighting your hair on fire,” Zuko grated out.
Katara gaped. “If you even think about lighting my brother’s hair on fire, your ungrateful butt is going in the river.”
“Yeah,” Sokka chuckled. “The fishies need a turn cuddling Prince Hothead.”
Zuko grumbled something under his breath, but didn’t have the energy to banter. He hated having to be cared for and escorted around by his stupid enemies. The Water Tribe siblings in particular both annoyed and puzzled him. He’d never seen a brother and sister get along so well, let alone be protective of each other. Azula would never in a million years defend him if he were in trouble; she’d be watching from the front row with a bowl of fire flakes, cheering for his demise, if not trying to kill him herself. Similarly, for as long as he’d known them, Ozai and Iroh had always been rivals first, relatives second. Being dual heirs to the Fire Nation throne just gave you another person to compete with, to fear, to suspect of plotting your assassination. Royal Fire Nation siblings were never allies, and certainly not friends.
He and Azula had been playmates when they were kids, of course. As a child, Zuko had protected his little sister whenever and however he could. But that only lasted until they began to understand who they were—what they were. Until Azula no longer needed his protection. Until he needed protection from her.
If it came down to it, if it was life or death, would he still defend her? Or would he let her get what she deserved?
Even after getting zapped into oblivion by his sister, it was hard to say.
“Where’s my uncle?” Zuko asked through his teeth as they led him into the tent.
“He went to a nearby town to get supplies,” Sokka replied. “He said he was looking for ingredients for some kind of burn balm for you.”
Sokka eyed him in a way that screamed you know, because he actually cares about you, unlike a certain son-banishing Fire Lord I know?
Zuko turned away from his gaze and glared at the ground. He hoped Uncle would find what he needed and get back here soon. Whatever medicine he’d put on his eye in the infirmary three years ago had significantly sped up his recovery.
“How are you feeling right now, overall?” Katara asked. She and her brother helped him sit against the wall. He held his shoulder and panted softly, his face gnarled with pain.
“Like I got struck by lightning two days ago,” he muttered.
Sokka barked out a laugh. Katara frowned at him. He withered beneath her glare. “What?” he said defensively. “It was funny! Wasn’t that supposed to be funny?”
“Why don’t you go harvest some nuts or something?” Katara said, pushing him toward the exit. Sokka dug his heels into the ground, narrowing his eyes at the injured prince.
“You’re okay being alone with him?” Sokka asked. “What if he firebends at you?”
Katara scoffed in Zuko’s direction. “Don’t worry,” she insisted. “I’m more than capable of handling him myself.”
Zuko scowled, even though he knew she was right. Sure, he could get a surprise attack in—two, if he was lucky. But she’d easily counter with a lash of frozen water, rendering him immobile (and possibly eating the floor) in seconds, if not dead. She had gotten obnoxiously better at fighting since visiting the Northern Water Tribe. She was now one of the biggest threats he encountered when confronting their team, even when he wasn’t half-fried and barely able to walk. In his current state, he didn’t stand a chance.
It wasn’t like he was planning to attack her—not right now, at least. Still. These were the anxieties constantly seething through his mind. In the event he needed to overpower her, it was scary to realize he probably couldn’t. Why did Uncle think it was okay to leave him all by himself with these people? The old man was far too trusting.
Sokka wrinkled his nose. “Okay,” he relented, giving Katara a quick hug. Then he jabbed a finger at Zuko. “Don’t try anything funny or fiery with my sister, or you’ll be sorry. Got it?”
Zuko stared between them bemusedly, then offered a short nod. Sokka puffed up his chest and marched out of the tent, leaving the waterbender and the firebender alone inside.
Once her brother’s footsteps had faded out of earshot, Katara turned to the prince with sharp eyes and an expression he couldn’t quite read. She popped open her pouch and streamed the water around her hands, cycling a slow breath through her lungs.
“Let’s get this over with,” she said, and kneeled beside him. She pressed both palms to the wound on his chest and let the water flow over and into the burnt flesh, tracking the damage as it traveled through his body. Zuko tensed at first, the strange, cold feeling taking him by surprise. But as the pain began to ebb away—the stings, the aches, the twinges, all of it—he allowed himself to relax. Well, as much as he could relax with a Water Tribe girl who hated his guts sitting uncomfortably close to him with her hands on his chest.
As the two sat in awkward silence, Zuko considered the possibility that choosing to be alone with Katara while she healed him was worse than being out in the open.
“How long is this going to take?” he asked, shooting brief glances at her hands, but mostly just staring at the ground.
“About twenty minutes, if you stay still,” she answered. Hardly a minute had passed, and already Katara knew she preferred healing an unconscious Zuko over an awake one. When he was asleep, she didn’t have to worry about breaking the tension, or tip-toeing around his injury, or those deadly golden eyes watching her every move. She didn’t even have to acknowledge that he was Zuko, their nemesis. He was just a body that needed to be healed. A broken pile of muscle and skin for her to mend with waterbending. It was like working with one of those dummies the Northern Water Tribe women had practiced and demonstrated their healing abilities on. Treating him while he was unconscious was easier because she didn’t have to think of him as a person. It was more like fixing a machine.
Zuko’s piercing stare lingered on her hands a little longer than she liked. Maybe she should get him to drink more of his uncle’s knock-out tea. Anything to escape the growing balloon of discomfort suffocating the air between them.
“How...are you doing that?” he inquired carefully, the glow from her waterbending glinting in his eyes. She weighed the question in her mind before choosing her reply.
“Some waterbenders have healing abilities,” she said. “Lucky for you, I’m one of them.”
Zuko studied her for a second before looking away. “I’ve never heard of that before.”
“Maybe you would have, if the Fire Nation hadn’t killed nearly every last waterbender in the South Pole.”
Zuko’s eyes flitted wide for a moment before dropping to the floor. He swallowed, his hands fidgeting in his lap.
“I’m sorry.”
Katara’s steady hand movements wavered. She lifted her gaze to his. Now that she knew the story behind his scar—the malevolent forces and people who had allowed the prince to be permanently branded so cruelly—she found it difficult to tear her eyes away from it. She’d never noticed how painful it looked. How the scorched, leathery skin stood out so drastically against the rest of his young, unblemished face. He could be two totally different people, depending on which side of him you were looking at. Staring at him now made her stomach clench. It felt like she was seeing him—truly seeing him—for the very first time.
The apology had caught her off guard. So much so, she didn’t realize how long she’d been gazing at him until he turned toward her. A flash of realization crossed his face.
“My—my sister didn’t give me this one too, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Katara glanced away quickly, feeling rude. “N-no, that’s not…” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Sorry.”
Zuko gave a small shrug. “It’s fine,” he said, although his expression told a different story.
She went back to healing his shoulder. Now she was purposely not looking at his face, which somehow felt just as awkward. A full minute passed before either of them spoke again.
“Does it still hurt?” she asked quietly.
Zuko blinked at her. “What?”
“Your eye. Does it still hurt sometimes?”
A line formed between his brows. “It’s a scar,” he said.
“Is that a no?”
He shifted in place, looking thoughtful and uneasy. He reached up and grazed the burned skin with his fingertips. “I guess I sometimes think it’s hurting, but...I don’t think it’s real.”
Katara nodded solemnly. “Sokka has a scar on his back like that. He fell out of a canoe as a kid and landed on a sharp patch of ice. It really rattled him, and he says it still stings from time to time. But he thinks it’s all in his head.”
Zuko looked down at her hands again. “Do you think it’s all in his head?”
The waterbender pursed her lips in thought. Then she lifted her shoulders somberly. “Does it matter? It still hurts him. Except there’s nothing I can do to make it better.”
The prince had a curious expression on his face, like he wanted to understand what she was saying while also knowing he never would. This was the longest she’d ever seen him go without boasting his signature scowl.
“You and your brother care a lot about each other,” he said warily. Not as a question, but a stated fact. An observation.
“Of course we do,” she said, almost laughing. Zuko eyed his shoulder wound dismally.
“Must be nice,” he murmured.
Katara followed his gaze and grimaced. “Oh,” she said. She’d almost forgotten it was his sister who had nearly electrocuted him to death.
“I guess not all siblings were meant to get along like you two.”
Katara couldn’t imagine not being friends with her brother. Sure, they’d had their fair share of spats and squabbles, as all siblings were bound to have. But to honestly, genuinely hate each other? To see him as an enemy rather than her most trusted companion? To not have each other’s backs through thick and thin, in every trial they’d faced together?
And to actually try to kill each other…the absurdity of the concept blew her mind.
But she and Sokka weren’t Zuko and Azula.
“I guess not,” she said softly. Her hands moved to hover directly over the gruesome injury. “Still...I can’t believe your own sister did this to you.”
“Have you met Azula?” Zuko scoffed.
Katara narrowed her eyes. “If you had the chance, would you kill her?”
Zuko lifted his gaze and blinked. A flicker of uncertainty touched his irises—one that scared both of them. Then his expression clouded over.
“No,” he said adamantly, swallowing. “But if she was in danger dying, I don’t know if I’d save her.”
Silence shrouded the room. In that moment, it occurred to Katara that she was doing the exact thing she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do. She was interacting with Zuko like he was a normal human being, not their sworn enemy. Not the person who had tried to imprison her friend over and over. Not the prince of the most bloodthirsty nation on the planet. She cursed herself for so carelessly letting him in, for actually feeling bad for him.
She set her jaw and refocused her attention on his wound. She wouldn’t let herself slip again.
“We saved you,” she pointed out coldly. “Because unlike you and Azula, we’re actually good people.”
She felt Zuko tense and saw his hand curl into a fist out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t react. She continued to begrudgingly heal his injury, moving her palms along his collarbone.
Unbeknownst to her, Zuko was actually glad she’d decided to insult him the same moment her hands changed position on his body. The feeling of the water healing his wound fanned outwards from wherever her palms touched, strange and cool and tingly—perfectly fine when it was just over his shoulder. But as she inched toward his neck, the tingly sensation started crawling up the sensitive skin, spreading underneath his chin. In an instant, the feeling went from soothing and mystical to tickling him like a feather. Zuko soon found himself clenching his teeth and coiling his muscles in attempt not to laugh, a position he had not anticipated being in. When it grew too much to handle, he jerked away, gripping his throat.
Katara winced in surprise, her water-coated hands hanging in the air. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Zuko blinked. “Um.” His face suddenly felt warm. How was he going to explain this? He rubbed his tingling skin nervously. “It just—hurt. I’m sore there.”
“Where? On your neck?” She reached toward his throat, but he flinched back from her touch. A line formed between her eyes. “Let me see. I might be able to help.”
“It’s fine,” he snapped. “I just tweaked it. It doesn’t need your freaky magic hands.” If that tingly feeling was pressed directly against his neck, he was certain he’d fall to pieces in seconds. He was embarrassingly sensitive, as Uncle had recently (and obnoxiously) discovered, and he had no desire for anyone else to find out—especially his enemies. He’d sooner let Azula fry his other shoulder than let that happen.
Fortunately for him, Katara didn’t press the issue. “Fine,” she said, letting her hands fall to her sides. “I’m done with the wound on your chest for now anyway.”
Zuko breathed a sigh of relief. Bullet: dodged.
“Now I can start on your foot.”
A spark of alarm shot up Zuko’s spine. His eyes popped open as she moved to sit by his feet.
“W-what?” he exclaimed.
Katara gave him a questioning look. “Your foot,” she said, pointing. “It needs to be healed, too. You know, the one you can hardly put any weight on?” She gave his sole a light tap, causing dread to rise in his belly. “The lightning entered your chest, traveled down your left side, and exited out of the bottom of your left foot. The scar on it matches the one on your chest—it’s just smaller.”
Just the thought of that tingling sensation spreading across his sole was enough to make him twitchy. Zuko swallowed, worrying his thumbs in his lap. “Do you…have to heal it?” he asked timidly.
Katara frowned at him. “I mean, yeah. If you ever want to walk normally again.”
It took a moment for the change in his demeanor to catch her attention. He looked shy and fidgety all of sudden, as if he was about to give a speech but had forgotten his notes, and he was doing absolutely everything he could to avoid her gaze. His face also had a slight pink tint to it, like he’d been holding his breath.
“Is something wrong?” she finally asked him. Zuko hesitated before shaking his head. He was doomed either way, but he refused to confess what was really going on. If he kept his mouth shut, at least there was a chance he could find the strength to stay composed—perhaps enough for her not to notice.
Katara studied him for a few more puzzled seconds before shrugging it off and getting to work. She used one hand to hold his ankle steady while the other brought the water to his sole. The scar was in the center of the ball of his foot, just above his arch and right below his toes, which was why Zuko was having so much trouble walking on it. His leg would probably be stiff for a while, but she could heal it enough for him to at least start putting some weight on it again.
But barely two seconds into the healing session, Zuko yanked his foot out of her grip. She flinched and looked up at him, narrowing his eyes.
“What are you doing?” she asked irritably. “I told you, you have to stay still.”
Zuko had his hands shoved under his armpits and his lips pursed tight. “Oh, r-right,” he said. His voice was pitched slightly higher than normal. When he didn’t return his foot to her, she grabbed his ankle and dragged it back to its original position.
“Don’t move,” she demanded, and pressed her glowing palm against his sole again.
Easy for you to say! Zuko thought miserably. The tingly sensation revved back to life, sprawling down his heel and between his toes. It felt like his entire foot was being brushed with tiny, magical feathers. Even worse, it hurt to curl his arch or scrunch up his toes, so he really couldn’t move other than ripping his foot away or kicking her in the face, which he was seriously considering.
A flood giggles started building behind his lips. He twitched and snorted and slapped a palm over his mouth before tearing his foot away from her tingly touch. Katara huffed exasperatedly, balling her hands into fists.
“What is your problem?” she shouted. “What part of ‘don't move’ and ‘stay still’ do you not understand?”
Zuko’s ears felt like they were on fire. He hugged his knee skittishly, grappling for an excuse. “I don’t—I’m not trying to,” he stammered, rubbing his heel against the ground.
“Then why do you keep doing it?”
The prince crossed his arms close to his chest. “Because—” he said, biting his lip. “I just—I don’t...like how it feels.”
Katara raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like how it feels?” she parroted mockingly. “You didn’t mind how it felt when I was healing your chest. Why is this any different?”
Zuko didn’t answer. The firebender was noticeably flustered—hands restless, shoulders hunched. Clearly there was something bothering him that he wasn’t letting on about. Katara’s expression softened.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she said, changing her tone. Zuko was in a pretty vulnerable position. Even if he was evil, he still felt pain the same way she and all her friends did. As a healer, she had to acknowledge that. She sighed levelly. “But you need to stay still so I can heal you properly.” The waterbender nodded towards his foot. “Is it hurting when I heal you? Is that why you keep jumping away?”
Zuko shook his head. “N-no, it’s not...” he mumbled, scratching his forearm nervously. His eyes stayed locked on the ground, as if it would disappear from underneath him if he dared look away. “It’s just...weird.”
“Weird?” she said.
“Yeah.”
“Weird how?”
“You know...weird.”
Katara scoffed. “You’re not making any sense.”
“Forget it,” Zuko growled, scowling between his feet. “I’ll let it heal naturally.”
“You’ll have a limp for the rest of your life if you do that.”
A grimace crawled across his face. Zuko shifted uncomfortably, weighing the two evils in his mind.
“Just tell me why you can’t keep still,” Katara insisted. “Use your words, your highness. Does it sting? Does it burn? Is it making your skin pruny? What?”
“It doesn’t matter, okay?” he snapped. “It feels weird, so I’m not staying still.” He turned away bitterly. “Why don’t you learn how to heal in a way that doesn’t feel weird?”
The waterbender stared at him with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. She placed her hands on her hips. “You’re being a spoiled little brat right now, you know that?”
Zuko continued glaring at the wall, his stomach rumbling quietly. Katara sighed.
“Fine,” she said. She stood and walked out of the tent, disappearing into the sunshine. Zuko watched her go, blinking. Had she given up? Maybe she had another way to heal him that didn’t require tingly waterbending magic. He exhaled slowly and stretched out his legs, allowing himself to relax a little.
The moment he did, two bands of earth rose up from the ground and wrapped around his ankles, trapping his feet in place. At the same time, the wall opened up behind him and swallowed his arms from the elbows down, pinning his hands behind his back. Zuko yelped in surprise, straining against the newly formed bonds as Katara re-entered the tent, tailed by Toph.
“Hey! W-what are you doing?” He tugged and pulled to try to free his arms, grunting with effort.
Katara smirked. “Making you stay still so I can heal you, of course.”
Zuko gawked. Uh oh. Trying not to laugh when he could pull away from the tickling sensation anytime it grew too intense was already hard enough as it was. But trying not to laugh when he couldn’t escape it at all? Not good.
“Now I can make sure you’re up and walking again in no time.” Katara grinned at the earthbender. “Thanks, Toph.”
“Sure,” Toph replied, looming over the trapped firebender smugly. Zuko blanched, squirming even more.
“Th-this is absurd! Let me go!” The prince wrenched and fought with all his might, but it was clear he wasn’t going anywhere. He was thoroughly, entirely pinned. Even at his full strength, he doubted he’d be able to escape Toph’s rock-cuffs.
“Relax, Squirmy,” Toph chuckled. “You’re in good hands. Katara knows what she’s doing.”
She most certainly does not, he thought skittishly. Not yet, at least. And I’d really prefer to keep it that way! He twisted and turned as the Water Tribe girl sat by his feet again, reaching for his now defenseless sole. Anxiety leapt into Zuko’s throat.
“Wait!” he cried. “I’ll—I’ll be still. I promise.” He fidgeted sheepishly. “Just...let me out of this.”
Katara had no idea what was causing him to act so strange and frantic. She’d never had anyone respond to her healing sessions this way. But as entertaining as it was, she’d had enough of it.
“I’m sure you would, Zuko,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But this guarantees it.”
With that, she pressed her palm to his foot and willed the water to mend the damaged flesh. It was a lot easier to do now that he wasn’t pulling away every two seconds.
Once she got into her usual healing rhythm, she looked up at Zuko, expecting the assuage to calm his bizarre uneasiness. Instead, she found him with his face buried in his shoulder as his cheeks burned bright red.
“Zuko?” she said, startled. “What’s wrong?”
The prince shook his head, his body shivering like his fever had returned. He was trying his best to hide his face, but she could see enough to notice he was smiling, although it looked like he was fighting it with every ounce of his being.
“Why are you smiling?” she asked, the corners of her own lips lifting in puzzled amusement. She didn’t think she’d ever seen the grumpy firebender actually, genuinely smile before. It was a nice look on him, even when he was trying desperately to conceal it. He was also making a bunch of funny little noises—stifled squeaks and snorts he was struggling to keep at bay. At the same time, he was twitching and wriggling sporadically, as if his pants were crawling with centibeetles.
“He’s smiling?” Toph asked, mirroring Katara’s grin. Curiously, Katara’s gaze dropped to his foot. She moved her hand down his sole and gently fluttered her fingers against the center of his arch. Zuko’s wild reaction confirmed her hilarious hypothesis.
“Ahack!” the prince yelped, his entire body going rigid. He whirled on her bewilderedly. “Dohon’t do that!”
Katara’s face lit up with delight. “No way. You’re ticklish?” She scribbled her nails toward his heel, making Zuko squeak and writhe. “Oh man! You are! That’s why you’re being so weird and squirmy!”
“S-stohop it!” Zuko giggled, a giant smile overtaking his features. Meanwhile, he was absolutely dying on the inside. This was too humiliating for words. His whole body smoldered with embarrassment while his toes twitched in protest.
“Is my waterbending tickling you?” she wondered aloud, swirling one finger against his sole in thought, fiercely enjoying his erratic response. If there were ever a time she’d consider calling Zuko cute, it was now, when he was squealing and squirming beneath her delicate touch, flashing one of his rare (and surprisingly radiant) smiles, his face rosy with shame. She chuckled softly. “Hm. That’s new. No one’s ever told me it tickled them before. You must be really sensitive, huh?”
Thankfully, Katara did stop tickling him, but the evil smirk she drilled him with rendered him no less flustered. The damage was done, and there was no taking it back. Toph placed her fists on her hips and grinned smugly.
“Aw! No wonder he didn’t want to tell you why he couldn’t stay still. The little Fire Princey is embarrassed! How cute!”
For the second time that day, Zuko’s face turned as red as a lychee nut. He pouted timidly.
“Sh-shut up!” he snarled. “It’s not cute!” He didn’t seem to understand the fact that the more he denied it, the less he was helping his case.
“What’s not cute?” Aang’s chipper voice called, causing dread to shudder up Zuko’s skeleton. He and Sokka stepped through the doorway, holding bags of provisions.
Katara giggled into her hand. “Yeah, Zuko,” she said pointedly. “What’s not cute?”
The firebender shrunk into himself shyly. Aang tilted his head to the side.
“Why is Zuko all bound up?” he asked. “Did he attack one of you?”
“He wouldn’t stay still for Katara’s healing session,” Toph explained, a mischievous glint in her faded eyes.
Katara pressed her water-cloaked palm to his foot again, boasting a bright grin. “But we don’t have to worry about that anymore! Right, Zuko?”
If Zuko were able, he’d definitely kick her in the face right now. Unfortunately for him, all he could do was cringe and bite the inside of his cheek, battling back a wall of bubbly giggles while squirming against his restraints.
“Why does he look like he’s about to explode?” Sokka asked, frowning.
“But like...happy explode!” Aang observed.
Toph chuckled, unable to keep quiet any longer. “Because Katara’s water healing technique is tickling him,” she explained, feeling Zuko’s heart leap in despair. “She has to heal the exit wound on his foot, but apparently his feet are super ticklish.”
To Zuko’s dismay, two more pairs of eyes turned on his blushing, smiley self with stunned delight. Other than the Agni Kai with his father, Zuko couldn’t remember another moment in his life where he so desperately wanted to be invisible.
“Zuko is ticklish?” Aang exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “Aw! That’s adorable!”
Zuko considered retaliating, but if he opened his mouth, laughter was the only thing coming out. Sokka snickered.
“First we discover you sleep with a traveling petting zoo, and now we find out you’re ticklish?” The Water Tribe boy tsked disappointedly. “Man. Your bad guy aesthetic has taken a major hit today, buddy.”
Aang hopped to Zuko’s left side, leaning in close to his flushed face. “If you’re tickling him, how come he’s not laughing?” he inquired.
Katara chuckled softly. “I think he’s putting all his effort into keeping himself from laughing,” she said. “He seems determined not to let us hear it.”
A steady stream of whimpers and squeaks were escaping the flustered firebender, but he was somehow managing to stave off the tsunami of giggles. If somebody wasn’t intentionally tickling him, it seemed he was able to stay quiet, so long as all his focus was honed in on that goal.
Before Aang had a chance to remedy this injustice, Iroh appeared in the doorway of the tent, beaming with excitement.
“Zuko, look what I found!” he exclaimed, holding up his fist. “Feathers from the rare blue skink quail! Legend says if you add them to your tea, they can cure any ailment!” He eyed the long quills suspiciously. “Unless I am mistaken, and they are actually normal skink quail feathers, which are known to cause uncontrollable dysentery if consumed…”
He glanced up from his dilemma to find his nephew pinned down with shackles made of earth, looking extremely red in the face. He was surrounded by the avatar and his friends, who appeared amused by the prince’s pitiful squirming.
“Hey Iroh, did you know Zuko is ticklish?” Aang giggled.
Iroh blinked, taken back by the sight and the question. “What are you doing to my nephew?” he asked bemusedly.
“I’m just healing him,” Katara insisted, pointing to the glowing hand on his sole. “But I guess the feeling on his foot tickles, so we had to restrain him to keep him still.”
Iroh stared at Zuko’s twitchy toes, then at his smiling, blushing face. A stroke of endearment touched his heart. He loved seeing Zuko smile, even if the reason at the moment wasn’t to his liking. Unfortunately, the only way to get his hotheaded nephew to smile nowadays was through convoluted and unconventional methods like tickling. He tried not to use his adorable sensitivity against him too often, knowing it embarrassed the prince tremendously, but sometimes he felt he had to do it just to remind himself that Zuko was capable of joy and laughter, no matter how hard he tried to convince both of them he wasn’t. It was especially nice to see him smiling now, after nearly losing him to Azula’s attack. The thought of never seeing his nephew’s happy face again was too painful to dwell on.
“I see,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning upward. “He’s probably not pleased you found out about his little weakness.”
“Uncle!” Zuko squeaked out before shutting back up again, clenching his teeth behind his lips. The children chuckled in delight. He was really struggling now, snickering and sputtering with his eyes squeezed shut. Not even Katara was immune to the endearing scene. She offered him a sympathetic smile.
“You know you can laugh if you want,” she said earnestly. “I imagine it’s not easy to fight it for this long. It might actually be good for you.”
“Yeah!” Aang chirped. “It’s just like the monks always said: laughter is the best medicine.” He sat down beside him, beaming brilliantly. “Don’t be shy! Go ahead!”
Zuko shook his head adamantly, shoving his face into his shoulder as his whole body trembled and quaked. He had already been humiliated beyond all reason—he would not grant them any more satisfaction at his expense. A wry grin curled along Sokka’s lips.
“Perhaps the stubborn prince needs a little more encouragement,” he suggested. He plucked one of the large feathers from Iroh’s fist. “Could I borrow one of these?”
“Sure,” Iroh said knowingly. “I probably won’t be using them anyway. I don’t have a great track record with concocting teas from strange things I found in the wilderness.”
Sokka skipped between his friends to sit on the firebender’s right side, opposite of Aang. “This oughta do the trick,” he said. Grinning eagerly, he held the soft end of the feather above Zuko’s torso, wiggling it threateningly. “Hey Fire Lord Spawn,” he teased him, “is your upper body ticklish too?”
Something lithe and fuzzy started brushing against his side, causing Zuko’s eyes to fly open. Horror sprawled across his face as goosebumps bubbled up from his skin.
“Ah! W-wahait! Don’t—!” He clamped his mouth shut and tried to angle his body out of the feather’s reach, but Sokka made sure the tickly bristles stayed glued to his side, gliding in the space between his hips and ribs.
Zuko’s steely resolve was snuffed out in seconds. The sensation tickled far too much for the poor prince to take. Add that to the tingly tickles on his foot, and he knew he was done for. In real time, the four kids and the old man watched Zuko’s willpower rapidly crumble away: from whimpering to snorting to thrashing in place, until finally—
“Ehahaha!” he belted out, his cheeks glowing bright pink. He bucked and writhed, bursting with uncontrollable giggles. “Nohoheehee! Stahap!”
“Aww! There ya go!” Aang cheered.
“No way,” Toph gasped. “That’s Zuko?”
Sokka smirked triumphantly as he swooped the feather up and down the full length of the firebender’s side, drawing airy, nervous giggles from his lips. It was a softer kind of laughter compared to the time Iroh had attacked his tummy in the cave, but just as endearing—if not more so. Plus, in his current state, gentler tickling was definitely more appropriate.
“Q-quihit it! Gehet awahay!” His eyes darted around the room, searching feverishly for a way out of this ticklish nightmare. Among the unfriendly faces, he spotted Iroh, who was watching the scene play out from the back, chuckling softly.
“Uhuncle!” Zuko bubbled, his wide smile and bright laughter melting Iroh’s heart. He squirmed helplessly, burning from head to toe. “Mahake them stohop!”
Iroh grinned, stroking his beard. “I think the avatar is right, Prince Zuko. Laughter is a wonderful remedy for a broken body and a troubled soul. Indulging yourself in it for a little while may benefit your condition, especially right now.”
Zuko stopped listening six words in, when it was clear he wasn’t going to help him. His mind was too occupied by the feeling of the feather delicately tracing the right side of his ribcage, causing light but frantic giggles to spill from his throat. Sokka lingered in the spot just below his underarm, teasing and stroking the exceptionally sensitive skin, then dragged the feather back down his side, fluttering the tip right above his hip bone.
Katara chuckled along with the giggly prince, still grappling with the notion that the shrill, happy noise ringing in her ears was coming from Zuko. The typically grumpy firebender had a laugh that was both joyful and shy, like every second longer he heard himself doing it was making him all the more ashamed of it. He continued to try to muffle his giggling but was failing at every turn. The fact he was so mortified by the sound of his own laughter almost made her sad.
“I think Prince Grouchy Butt is embarrassed of his laugh,” she observed amusedly. “Is that why you don’t do it very often?”
The blush in Zuko’s face bled down into his neck. Iroh chortled.
“He has a strict image of hostility and toughness he likes to maintain,” the old man explained. “I don’t think giggling like a child fits into that criteria.”
Sokka cooed, brushing the feather all over his belly. “Poor little Zuko, trying so hard to act tough. Too bad all it takes to shatter that facade is one wiggly feather!” He painted figure eights across his abs, noticing the sharp leap in the prince’s voice. “Hate to break it to you, but I don’t think tough guys typically have such ticklish tummies.”
“Stahap patronizing me!” Zuko demanded between giggles, doubling over as much as his restraints would allow. “Youhou’re all gonna—p-payhay for this!”
“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” Iroh assured him, unfazed by his nephew’s squeaky threats.
“Yeah,” Katara agreed, grinning fiendishly. “Your laugh is super cute.”
The way he looked at her, you’d think she just told him he would never walk again. Katara couldn’t help but snicker, which only made his face heat up more. Zuko fought once again to stem the waterfall of laughter from breaching his lips, but it was hopeless. The feeling of the feather teasing his bare skin was driving him mad with giggles.
“Nohot—it’s nohohot—eheeheehahahagh!”
He was so focused on the soft bristles mercilessly exploring his right side, he didn’t even notice the avatar nabbing a feather from his uncle and floating down on his left until he started swirling the soft end inside his belly button.
“Katara’s right, Zuko! Your laugh is super cute. Now I just wanna hear more of it!”
Zuko threw his weight around and arched his spine. “Nohohahaha!” he squealed, the sensation sending shocks across his ticklish tummy. “Ahagh—s-stahap! Thahat feels so weeheeheird!”
The room buzzed with laughter. “He means it tickles,” Katara translated with a snort. “Weird is his word for when something tickles.”
His hysterical response only seemed to goad Aang’s tickling fervor. The airbender drew slow ‘Xs’ over his navel, skimming the side of the feather along the edges as he stroked the tip back and forth, all while asking in a playfully mocking voice, “Does this feel weird, Zuko? Or this? How about this?”
Meanwhile, Sokka started scratching his midriff with the quill part of the feather, which Zuko didn’t expect to tickle beyond human comprehension. But it did, making him shiver and squirm and peal into shrill, sheepish laughter.
“Ahaha! Ihi’m—ehaha—mhmheeheehee!”
He didn’t even know what he was trying to say at this point. Every ticklish inch of him wanted to beg for mercy, but that would require sacrificing his last leg of dignity, and he was resolved not to degrade himself any further. Unfortunately, that meant he just had to endure their torment until they got bored with it, and who knew how long that would take.
Sokka and Aang could sense the firebender was reaching his limits. They exchanged a look and eased back on their tickle attack, switching to the fuzzy sides of their feathers and giving him longer breaks between strokes. He was still wounded, after all. If this was how he reacted to being tickled by two gentle, innocuous feathers, Aang could only imagine how much he’d lose it if they started using their hands.
The prince’s laughter returned to nervous, airy giggles—the kind that made Iroh want to pinch his rosy cheeks. He twitched and flinched every time the feathers made contact with his skin, which Sokka and Aang were brushing higher and higher up his body.
“Do you think his armpits are ticklish?” Aang wondered, stroking his feather dangerously close to his underarm, making Zuko cringe.
“Good question! Why don’t we ask him?” Sokka did the same, drawing a yelp from the firebender’s lips. “Hey Zuko, are your armpits ticklish?”
Poor Zuko was doing everything possible to guard himself, pulling his arms as close to his sides as he could, but the way he was pinned didn’t allow him to protect them completely. The remaining gaps were the perfect size for two silky feathers to slip right into and destroy him.
“Youhou’re both soho dehead,” he giggled helplessly, straining against his bonds.
“I can confirm his armpits are quite ticklish!” Iroh exclaimed. “In fact, they may be his worst spot.”
Zuko bared his teeth at his uncle in what he hoped resembled a snarl. “Youhou’re dead too!” he snapped, his arm muscles trembling with effort. “Traihaihaitor!”
“How ‘bout, on the count of three, we both go for his pits?” Aang proposed to Sokka with a wink.
Sokka grinned, winking back. “Ready when you are.”
Aang held his feather toward his underarm. “One....”
Sokka mirrored him, swirling the quill tauntingly. “Two…”
Zuko went pink with anticipation. He shut his eyes, squirming anxiously. “Ihi’m gonna—k-kill all of you!”
The two boys giggled at the flustered prince, drawing out the last count just for good measure. Aang smirked in delight.
“Three!”
Both of them lunged toward the firebender without making contact. As expected, Zuko busted out laughing anyway, nervous giggles pouring from his lips.
“What’s the matter? We’re not even touching you!” Sokka teased him.
“We’re not tickling you, so why are you laughing?” Aang concurred. They wiggled their feathers an inch away from his skin, inflicting him with phantom tickling sensations.
Zuko was at his wit’s end with this entire humiliating affair. He continued to writhe restlessly, snickering into his shoulder.
“You jerherks! You’re insane! Ahall of you!” He squeaked as Katara’s hand crept toward his toes, shooting tingly, tickly snakes between them. “Come on! Lehet me go already!”
Sokka cocked his head to the side. “We’re jerks? For not tickling you?”
“Sounds to me like you’re mad that we aren’t actually tickling you,” Aang mused.
Zuko stiffened. “W-what?”
“We were just messing with you with the whole countdown thing,” Sokka continued.
“But if you’re going to call us jerks for not tickling you…”
“Then I guess we better give the guy what he wants.”
The whole scheme was so well-rehearsed, Zuko was almost impressed. But he didn’t get to marvel at it long. A second later, two fuzzy feathers were swishing against his underarms, setting off every nerve ending in his body.
“Ahahaheehee!” He threw his head back, cackling wildly, twisting from side to side. “N-noho! Pfftahahack! Cuhut it ahouhahahaaa!”
Hiccups began punching through Zuko’s giggle fit. It didn’t look like Iroh had been kidding. Aang drew circles in the hollow of his pit while Sokka skated his feather up and down the underside of his upper arm, rendering the prince a wriggly, squealing mess. None of them could get over just how silly and adorable their nemesis was when he was laughing like crazy and squirming away from their tickle attack. He went from angry, scary firebender to giggly little teenager with one stroke of a feather. The happy expression on his face reminded Aang of his old friend Kuzon.
“What was it that I heard Azula’s call you?” Aang said, bopping him playfully on the nose. “Zu-Zu, right?”
“Zu-Zu?” Katara repeated, laughing out loud. “That’s so cute!”
At that point, Zuko’s entire body had turned a rosy red color. The feathers wisping against his underarms were driving him ballistic—not to mention their incessant efforts to make him blush.
“Dohon’t cahall me thahahat!” he giggled shrilly.
“How come?” Sokka asked, fluttering his feather in the hollow of his pit. “Does Prince Zu-Zu not like his adorable little nickname?”
Iroh chuckled lightly to himself, both adoring and pitying his poor nephew. “Are you going to join the fun?” he asked Toph, offering her the last feather.
“You’re terrible,” she snorted. “I love it.”
She snatched the quill from his hand and sat beside Katara. When the earthbender began whisking the soft bristles across his uninjured sole, Zuko’s whole leg jolted violently.
“Whaha—nohoho!” he cried. He curled his toes and flexed his foot, but it did nothing to deter Toph’s delicate and meticulous destruction of the ticklish firebender. She tickled the entirety of his sole, gauging his reactions to see which places and methods made him squirm the most. Sawing the feather between his toes ended up being her deadliest technique, leaving Zuko in writhing, squeaky stitches.
Now all four of them were teamed up on him, and Zuko was starting to lose it. The fuzzy feeling of three wiggly feathers and one tingly hand all tickling the most sensitive areas of his body at the same time was making his brain go haywire. It seemed the longer they teased his ticklish skin, the more sensitive it became to their touch, rendering him more desperate and more giggly with each passing second.
“Thihis—ihis—ehevil!” he gasped. Every word was either punctuated by hiccups, or followed by a stretch of silent laughter—where he was giggling so much, he could hardly make a sound.
Katara scoffed. “Did Zuko just call us evil? That’s hilarious.” She watched her friends tickle the helpless firebender to bits and chuckled at his hysterical flailing. She could hardly believe the cruel soldier she’d fought in the North Pole and the laughing teen wriggling in front of her were one and the same. It was crazy to think she actually used to be afraid of him. She could probably sit here and watch him squirm all day long and never get tired of it.
When Aang realized Toph had joined the fray, he switched to gently tickling Zuko’s neck to give him a breather. Sokka did the same, brushing his feather in the gap of his collarbone every now and then, sending spikes of chills across the prince’s skin.
Zuko’s giggling calmed down a tiny bit, but not as much as they expected. Aang laughed when he stroked the feather towards his ear and Zuko scrunched his head to his shoulder with a squeak.
“You might be the most ticklish person I’ve ever met,” Aang said cheerfully. “And I’m a hundred and twelve years old!”
“You’re definitely the squirmiest person I’ve ever met,” Sokka agreed, copying the movement on Zuko’s right side, making the prince yelp and hike that shoulder to his ear.
“Stahahap it!” he giggled. He didn’t know how much more of this he could bear. His flesh tingled all over, shuddering beneath the soft, silky touch of the three fuzzy feathers, which stroked and brushed and teased his bare skin without mercy. He’d breathe fire at them if he could, but it was impossible to gather enough air in his lungs to attempt the technique when he was laughing this hard.
The Water Tribe boy and the avatar started working in tandem to tickle whichever side of his neck was left exposed while Zuko struggled to guard himself, turning it into a fun little game of back and forth. He fought so hard not to shrink up every time they switched sides. Unsurprisingly, he failed every time.
“You’re so cute when you try not to squirm!” Sokka laughed, stroking the feather against the back of his ear. “Go ahead, keep fighting it. I’m sure it’ll work eventually.”
“Eheehee!” Zuko squeaked helplessly, jerking away and making Sokka smirk. “Y-you—rahat vihiper!”
The prince was spiraling. Just when he figured things couldn’t get any worse, Aang and Sokka jumped back down to his ribs and belly, gliding the feathers all over his torso and making him want to disintegrate.
“I think this is the most fun I’ve ever had with a firebender,” Toph said, poking the quill between his toes.
“Me too,” Katara agreed. “Look how smiley and blushy he is! It’ll be hard to ever take you seriously again after I’ve seen you like this.”
Zuko shook his head feebly. It was bad enough they were tickling him to humiliating extremes, making him erupt with high-pitched laughter that he was powerless to quell no matter how much he tried to shut up. Did they really have to make fun of him as well? He couldn’t even move, let alone cover his stupid, blushing face! Talk about fighting dirty. All he could do was wriggle and squeal as they tickled him senseless, his smile as wide and bright as the sun.
“Ahahaha! Guhuhuys!” he howled. What he would give to be an earthbender right now—or to temporarily have one on his side.
“Based on his heart rate, he gets even more flustered when you tease him while you tickle him,” Toph observed with a grin. She stroked the feather from the bottom of his heel to the ball of his foot, wiggling it for extra effect. “Coochie-coochie-coo, Zu-Zu! Doesn’t that tickle so much? It’s okay—laugh all you want! It’s not like you can make yourself stop.”
Aang snickered as Zuko’s ears turned a shade pinker. “Wait ‘til the whole world finds out how adorable the Fire Nation prince is when you tickle him!” he said, flitting the feather below his belly button, tickling the skin along his waistline. Based on the way bucked and yelped, he was exploring an extremely sensitive spot. But to be fair, there didn’t seem to be a lot of places on Zuko that weren't extremely sensitive.
The kids giggled in unison with the hapless prince, the joy on their faces making Iroh’s heart soft. As he watched his helpless nephew get teased and tickled out of his mind, he wished he could snapshot this moment in his memories and save it forever. Seeing the five of them laughing and goofing off together just seemed right, even if it was at Zuko’s expense. How he hoped Zuko’s time with these selfless children had changed him in some way, however small, for the better—offering him the chance to seize a new outlook on his life and his destiny. Iroh sensed the prince’s future was intertwined with the avatar’s, just not in the way he’d always imagined. Perhaps this could be his first step toward that realization.
Meanwhile, Zuko was in giggly shambles. He couldn’t handle another second of this teasy, feathery torment. He’d sworn they wouldn’t get him to beg, but that was the only way out of this he had left in his arsenal. He doubted it would work; it would probably just give them more fuel for their ‘let’s humiliate Zuko’ party. But he was out of options, and his head was starting to spin, and Uncle obviously wasn’t going to save him. He had to try.
“Ohokay!” he cried, breathless and defeated. He barely had the energy to twitch anymore; he was basically just lying there and taking it, tears glinting in the corners of his eyes. “Pleehease—please stahap! I cahan’t… m’g-gehetting…dihizzy…”
Iroh stepped forward to say something, but thankfully, he didn’t have to. All of them immediately stopped tickling Zuko, dropping their arms to their sides and watching the firebender sag with relief, airy giggles still slipping from lips as he fought to catch his breath.
“Gah...heh...uhugh…” He hung his head low, panting lightly. Even though the feathers were no longer tickling him, his skin itched and tingled in all the places they’d perused, and bubbly butterflies continued to dance in his belly. He was also mortified to his core, and probably would be for the rest of his existence, which wasn’t great. He couldn’t wipe the goofy smile off his face just yet. “Myhy…sihides…” he whined.
“See? All you had to do was ask nicely,” Toph said, grinning.
“Poor Zuko,” Sokka cooed, poking one of his bright red cheeks. “I’ve never seen anyone blush so much for so long before.”
He lolled out of his reach skittishly, fuming with embarrassment. “Stohop,” he whimpered. “Y-you’re all...psyhychos…”
Aang giggled with his hands on his hips. “We really got you good, huh? It was nice to see you look so happy for once. Maybe all that laughing will help you recover faster!”
“If the laughing doesn’t help, hopefully my healing will,” Katara said, holding up her glowing palm. Zuko winced.
“Ugh...pleehease tell me you’re done with that,” he said weakly. Katara chuckled.
“What, healing your foot?” she asked. She dragged one finger up the side of his arch. “Oh, yeah. I finished that, like, eight minutes ago.”
A startled giggle leapt from Zuko’s throat, making the four friends cackle and the prince’s ears burn. The moment they settled down, Zuko's stomach let loose a pitiful roar, causing them to crack up all over again.
“Oh man! You still haven’t eaten yet, have you?” Aang poked at his rumbling belly, making Zuko squirm and squeak. “Aw! You’ve got to be totally wiped! That was mean of us. We should’ve fed you first.”
“Quihit messing with me!” Zuko snapped, twitching and snickering beneath the avatar’s tasering fingertips. “Just...lehet me go already!”
“Are you going to attack us if we do?” Sokka asked dubiously. “You did say you were going to kill us before. Like, a lot.”
“Ihi’m seriously considering it!” he growled between giggles. “It’s whahat you deserve!”
Aang clicked his tongue in disapproval. “You might want to rethink your answer on that, your highness.” He sat beside the fettered prince and reached around his back, curling his hands around his tummy, grinning mischievously. “Because if you don’t promise you aren’t gonna hurt any of us after we let you go, I’m not going to stop doing this.”
To Zuko’s horror, the avatar started squeezing both sides of his bare torso, drilling his fingers deep into his flesh, jumping between his hips, his belly, his ribs, his pits, holding absolutely nothing back. Zuko jolted and shrieked, twisting and bucking uselessly, his laughter shooting to an entirely new octave of hysterical.
“AHAHAHAHAAA!” he screeched. “GAHA—S-STAHAHAHAP! IHIHEEHEEHAHAHAGH!”
“Whoa,” Toph whistled. “That’s new.”
“Let’s try again,” Aang said, feigning innocence. “Are you going to attack us once we release you, Prince Zuko?” He needled between each individual rib bone with deadly precision, then burrowed into the dips of the firebender’s hips.
Zuko thrashed and hiccuped, frantically trying to get the words out between bouts of wild cackling. “NOHOHAHAHAY—I WOHON’T! AHAHAHAY PRAHAHAMISE!” He didn’t think anything could ever tickle as badly as Aang’s ten fingers digging into his upper body did at that moment. The fact he couldn’t do anything to guard himself or wiggle away made it so unimaginably worse than any other time he’d been tickled. As carefree and goofy the twelve-year-old avatar could be, this was downright cruel. He was certain he would die if he didn’t stop. Laughter erupted from the teen like adorable, desperate lava. “PLEEHEEHEASE—NOHO—MOHOHOREHAHA!”
“That’s more like it!” Aang said jubilantly. He lifted his hands off the prince’s tummy and floated to his feet, grinning with triumph. “You can let him go now, Toph.”
Toph punched her fists toward the ground, and the rock restraints retracted from his ankles. A second later, she pounded her heel against the earth, freeing his arms from the wall. Zuko celebrated his newfound freedom by immediately shrinking into a tiny ball, hugging himself around the middle with his knees pulled to his chest, giggling dazedly as he fought to tame his breathing. The others watched him with smiles on their faces. They couldn’t help but be endeared.
“Are you all right, Prince Zuko?” Iroh eventually asked, crossing the room to kneel beside him. He laid a hand on his shoulder, which was beginning to bounce less and less.
“Myhy everything hurts…” he wheezed, but the smile refused to leave lips. He looked up at Iroh, woozy and flushed. “Why didn’t you...hehelp me…?”
Iroh smiled and wrapped him into a hug. Zuko groaned into his shirt but didn’t have the strength to pull away.
“I’m sorry,” Uncle said, rubbing his back. “But you know how much I love hearing you laugh. When Azula’s struck you, I thought I might never get to hear it again.” He squeezed him a little tighter. “Seeing you happy fills me with so much joy. I try to soak it in every time I get the chance.”
“I’m nohot happy,” he grumbled, voice muffled by the fabric. Iroh chuckled.
“I know you’re not,” he said, giving his side a gentle pinch. “But I hope one day you will be, so I can hear you laugh without resorting to this.”
Zuko flinched and squeaked, shoving him away with as much muscle as he could muster. “Ahack! Uncle!” He clamped his palms over his sides, blushing furiously. “Ehenough! I am so done with all of you!” He pouted at the ground, shoulders hunched, ears pink with embarrassment. “Just...leave me alone...”
“Sorry, Zuko,” Katara giggled. “We may have gone a little overboard. We’ve just never seen that side of you before. It was sweet.”
Zuko didn’t feel like acknowledging or interacting with any of them right now—maybe for the rest of time. He was too flustered and humiliated by what had just transpired to even begin to decide how to handle it. The sound of his laughter blared shrilly in the back of his mind, mortifying him to no end. Even after being tickled by Uncle not too long ago, he could still hardly believe how loud and hysterical his own laughter could get—that that silly, squeaky noise he was hearing was somehow coming from his own body. It was as if he was possessed by some girly-voiced ghost every time someone tickled him. It was relentlessly embarrassing.
“Don’t feel bad,” Toph said, swiping her arms toward her feet. Two hands made of earth stretched down from the roof and grabbed hold of Sokka and Aang’s wrists, hoisting them over their heads.
“Hey!” Aang cried.
“What the—?”
Toph stepped between the boys and tickled their exposed sides, making both of them squirm and laugh shrilly. “They act all high and mighty now, but they’re just as ticklish as you are.”
“Ehahaha! Tohoph!” Aang squealed.
“GAHAHASTAHAHAPIT!” Sokka shrieked, flailing around like a beached elephant coy.
“Or perhaps even more so,” Toph corrected herself smugly. She released them from her hold and shoved them both aside. They staggered in opposite directions, blushing deeply and thoroughly chagrined.
Zuko stared between the avatar and the Water Tribe boy. He had to admit, seeing them flustered did make him feel slightly better about this entire nightmarish affair. It also helped that he’d finally caught his breath and was no longer bubbling with giggles. He decided if he had to pick someone in their group to hate the least, it was Toph. Even if she kind of terrified him.
She scooped one of their bags of provisions off the floor and tossed it into Zuko’s lap. “Here—eat,” Toph said. “The sound of your stomach growling is driving me insane.”
Zuko flinched in surprise and eyed the offering warily. He dug around inside and found some bread, a couple strips of salmon jerky, and a weird, round fruit he didn’t recognize. His mouth watered at the prospect of finally getting to eat without yesterday's queasiness holding him back.
“What’s this?” he asked, holding up the fruit skeptically.
“Honey plum,” Toph answered. “Have you never had one before? They only grow in the southern Earth Kingdom.”
Zuko shook his head. Iroh plucked it out of his hand with a grin.
“A honey plum! What a treat! These are delicious, Prince Zuko. You must try it.”
He handed it back to him excitedly. Zuko frowned at the bluish-purple fruit before taking a hesitant bite. As he chewed, a sparkle of surprise touched his golden eyes.
“Wow,” he said, swallowing. “That is really good.” He bit into it again, this time with far less reluctance, munching eagerly to qualm his ravenous hunger. It was sweet and juicy, the swirl of bright flavors bursting like firecrackers on his tongue. He was so focused on feeding the monster in his gut, he didn’t look up for a while. But when he did, he was startled to find everyone staring at him.
“Why are all of you...watching me?” he mumbled over his mouthful, shrinking uncomfortably. “I feel like some kind of zoo animal.”
“No reason,” Aang said, grinning. “We’re just happy you like it!”
“You eat like Sokka at the Glacial Spirits Festival,” Katara giggled. “I expected the Fire Nation prince’s manners to be a tad more dignified.”
Warmth rushed back into the firebender’s cheeks. “I’m hungry!” he retorted defensively. “I haven’t eaten in almost a day and a half! What do you want me to do—stick out my pinky and curtsy with every bite?”
“Yes,” Sokka said enthusiastically. “Absolutely yes.”
Zuko huffed, nibbling at the plum self-consciously. “Why do you people insist on making me feel weird about everything I do?”
“Cuz it’s fun,” Toph snickered. “You’re so easy to fluster.”
Zuko bristled. “No I’m not!”
Katara tapped her chin in thought. “When you say ‘weird,’ do you mean the normal definition of weird, or do you mean your definition of weird, which is that something tickles?”
The prince reddened and avoided their gazes, knowing there was no answer to that question that worked in his favor.
“See? Like that,” Toph laughed, noting the spike in his heart rate. Zuko crossed his arms and stared sideways, hating having all their attention focused on his blushing self for so long.
“Don’t feel weird,” Aang insisted, cramming a handful of berries in his mouth. “Eat as much as you like—and as messily as you like! You deserve to porcupig out a little.”
“I’m sure he’s just tickled by our kindness and hospitality,” Sokka said, wiggling his feather at him teasingly.
Zuko grimaced and jabbed two fingers forward. In a puff of flame, Sokka’s feather disintegrated in his hand, making him gawk.
“Hey! No fair!”
Katara watched her brother mourn the loss of his new weapon amusedly, then stepped toward the skittish firebender. “Come on,” she said, offering him a hand. “Let’s see if you can walk any better after your healing session.”
Zuko glanced between her palm and her face uncertainly before accepting her help, letting the waterbender pull him to his feet. Iroh stood with him, holding out his hands in case he fell.
The prince wobbled a little once he was upright but didn’t need anyone’s support to stay that way. He flexed and stamped his left foot, delighted by the lack of pain that followed.
“It’s better,” he said, pleasantly surprised. “A lot better.” He braved a couple steps forward. He still had a limp, but he could finally walk on his own again, if only for a little while.
“Good,” Katara said. “I can heal you again if anything starts hurting badly, but you mostly need lots of rest.”
He met her gaze gingerly. He didn’t want to say it, but he felt like he had to. “Thank you,” he murmured, the words grating his throat as they left his lips.
The girl smiled and nodded. Toph pounded her foot into the ground, making the tent collapse around them and sink back into the earth, startling Zuko tremendously.
“I’m hungry too now,” she announced, lifting their campfire off the ground and placing it in the center of their group with earthbending. She snatched the bag of berries from Aang and gobbled down the rest. “Iroh, would you mind making us some more of that jasmine tea?”
Iroh beamed. “Yes! Of course!” He ran and grabbed his pot and the leaves. “Tea always tastes better when it is brewed and shared with others.”
While Zuko watched his uncle enter his tea-making trance, Toph grabbed the honey plum from his hand and shoved it in his mouth, making the firebender grunt in muffled surprise. “Eat, Princey,” she snapped. “Food doesn’t last long around here. Take what you can get before someone else horks it down.”
Zuko pulled the plum out of his mouth and chewed sourly. He hadn’t realized just how tiny the earthbender was until now, when he was standing over her, practically craning his neck to look her in the eye.
And suddenly, everyone was settling down around the fire, taking and eating and acting like this whole bizarre situation was perfectly normal. At least he wasn’t the center of attention anymore, though it felt like he should be; they were being far too trusting, letting him stand so close so freely now that he had some of his strength back. He swept his gaze around the circle with a puzzled frown. Hesitantly, Zuko sat among them, listening to the criss-crossing conversations as he finished off the honey plum and started in on the bread.
“When do we start my earthbending training?”
“You sure you’re ready, Twinkle Toes? Being an earthbender takes guts and grit like you’ve never seen.”
“Definitely!”
“Pass me some of that sun melon, Sokka. Momo’s getting fussy.”
“Sure. Here, Zuko—have some too.”
Sokka casually handed Zuko a slice before giving the rest to Katara. Zuko took it reluctantly, gave it a sniff, then munched on the fruit, glancing warily between the others, feeling odd and out of place, like an unacknowledged elephant rhino in the room.
But also...strangely content.
As he tended to the tea, Iroh watched his nephew with a small smile. He wished Zuko could see how well he fit with these kids rather than in a toxic palace in the Fire Nation capital. He wished he could see how relaxed he looked here versus how tense he was beneath the scrutinizing gazes of Azula and his father. He wished he could stay with them, reject the false path Ozai had set him on, and find his own destiny with these kind, goofy children.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You must leave tonight—all of you.”
The four friends stood before the old man in disbelief, the setting sun reflecting in their wide eyes. Behind them, Zuko slept by the fire, his back rising and falling steadily.
“Leave?” Aang said, blinking. “What for?”
“What’s going on?” Toph asked.
Iroh bowed his head, his voice grim. “Now that he is getting better, there’s a possibility my nephew may try to pull something unfavorable against you and your friends. I want you all gone before he gets the chance.”
Katara took a step back, her eyes clouding over with rage. “What? Did he tell you he was planning something?”
“No,” Iroh insisted. “He hasn’t mentioned anything like that.” A grimace gnarled his features. “But I know my nephew. He needs more time before he is ready to fully realize his destiny. He is still extremely lost, hurt, and confused, and I do not want any of you to suffer because of it.” He sighed softly. “I don’t believe he will try anything, but...I’m not willing to risk it. Not after everything you’ve done for us.”
Sokka eyed Zuko’s slumbering form, then turned back to Iroh. “So...we should just...go? Right now?”
The old man nodded somberly. “I think that would be best.”
“But what if he needs more healing sessions?” Katara asked. “He’s still really weak.”
“I can take care of him,” Iroh said, his expression softening. “I’ve done it before. I am more than capable of doing it again.”
Toph shifted her weight between her feet. “He’ll be upset when he finds out we’re gone.”
Perhaps in more ways than one, she considered. They had only just begun to peel back the layers of the person they knew as Zuko, peering into the heart of the troubled but not entirely unsalvageable individual he was. Leaving now felt like dumping all of that progress down the drain, reverting back to their old shtick of pursuer and prey. Oddly enough, it almost felt...treacherous.
The old man hinted a smile. “He will be okay. Do not worry yourselves for my nephew’s sake. You have all already helped both of us more than we deserve.” He bowed respectfully, his hands clasped inside his sleeves. “Good luck on your journey, young avatar. May the spirits guide you and your friends. I sincerely hope we meet again soon, under more desirable circumstances.”
Aang hesitated for a moment before bowing back. He didn’t know how Zuko would react if they told him beforehand that they were leaving. Probably not favorably. Still, it felt strange, abandoning the two of them without a proper goodbye.
“I hope so too,” he said. He raised his head and met Iroh’s gaze. “He’s lucky to have you.”
Iroh glanced over his shoulder. “I’m lucky to have him, too,” he said. Icy sadness tugged at his chest. He fought not to let it bleed across his face.
“Keep trying to, I don’t know, ‘lead him into the light’ or whatever.” Sokka shrugged. “For what it’s worth, I have way more faith in him than I do Azula.”
The old man shuddered. “Me too,” he breathed.
Katara stared at her feet. “I hope...he changes,” she managed to say, looking awkward and conflicted.
Iroh nodded once, his expression warm. “He will,” he said. Then he exhaled slowly. “Go. I wish each of you the best this world has to offer.”
The four kids smiled sullenly, then dispersed to pack their things. They left on Appa thirty minutes later, the two firebenders shrinking smaller and smaller before vanishing behind the horizon, a collective ache hanging over them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You let them go?”
Iroh sat by the edge of the river, legs crossed with a cup of tea in his hand. Zuko stood over him, boiling with anger.
“I did not ‘let them go,’ Iroh assured him, breathing in the dewey morning aromas. “They were here when I went to bed. When I woke up, they were gone.”
It wasn’t lying, technically. Just strategic withholding of information. Zuko groaned in frustration.
“I can’t believe this!” he yelled, stomping in circles. “Why would they just leave like that?”
Uncle sipped his tea calmly. “Why wouldn’t they? They healed you, fed you, gave you a place to sleep. Now that you are doing better, there was no reason for them to stick around.”
Zuko buried his face in his hands. “The avatar was sleeping right next to us! We could’ve captured him and dragged him off without any of them noticing!”
“Another valid reason for them to leave,” Iroh pointed out. “I’m sure they feared you would try something like that, even after they saved your life.” He sighed contently. “We’re lucky they simply left us in peace, rather than taking us prisoner.”
He hated how well his uncle was taking all of this—and how accurate all of his rebuttals were. Zuko kicked a pine cone into the river.
“It could take weeks to track them down again! Ugh!” He sunk to the ground, griping and grumbling incoherently.
“I am surprised you are so shocked that they left,” Iroh said, raising an eyebrow. “We are still their enemies, after all. They never had an obligation to help us in the first place. What reason would they have to stay with us after they healed you?”
To be honest, Zuko wasn’t sure why he was so stunned by it, either. Of course they had left. That was the smart thing to do. If he were in their position, he wouldn’t have stayed, either. Now that he could walk, he was capable of committing all kinds of malicious crimes against them—as he’d done many, many times in the past.
But the weird thing was, he hadn’t planned to do anything like that.
At first, sure, maybe. When he was hurting all over and seething with anger and resentment. But after speaking with each of them, forming those little connections he never thought possible, things had changed. His usual appetite for causing them pain had gradually dwindled away. Capturing the avatar and hauling him back to his father was starting to sound more like an unsavory obligation rather than something he actually wanted to do.
He was still mad at them for that mortifying stunt they pulled in the tent yesterday, but not in the way he expected. It was beginning to feel more like a “you got me, now I’ve got to get you back” kind of mad—the innocent, playful kind he and Azula had for each other whenever they pranked one another as kids. Now, he would never get the chance.
“I guess there is no reason,” Zuko admitted bitterly, hugging his knees. “I’m just...frustrated.”
“It’s okay to be angry,” Uncle said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But it’s important that you recognize why you’re angry, because I don’t think the reason is what you believe it to be.”
Zuko eyed him suspiciously. “What are you talking about?”
Uncle’s hand moved to his back, steadying him in the comforting way it had done a thousand times. “Why are you upset they left, Prince Zuko?”
The young firebender frowned. He didn’t know why Uncle was asking him this—the answer was obvious.
“Because now I have to find them again to capture the avatar,” he said, although it sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
Iroh hummed thoughtfully. “That’s it? No other reason?”
“What other reason would there be?” Zuko shot back.
Uncle stirred his tea, the spoon clinking against the sides of the cup. “They were kind to you. Rather than ignoring you or berating you, they chose to interact with you in a warm, friendly manner. They didn’t treat you like a dangerous Fire Nation soldier; they saw you as a person who needed their help. They are all very good people.”
Zuko scoffed. “They were not kind to me. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You have rarely ever been around kids your age outside of the Fire Nation—especially ones that care so openly about one another.” He sipped his drink and stared across the river. “You fit in well among them.”
“What are you trying to say?” Zuko snapped, feeling hot and nervous and furious all at once. “That I miss them? That I want to be friends with the avatar and his obnoxious cronies? You’re insane, Uncle. I—I hate them! They’re the most insufferable people in the entire world! And my enemies!”
Iroh didn’t react to his tirade. He simply laid his hand on his nephew’s head, scratching at his short, fuzzy hair. Zuko went stiff, startled by the affectionate contact, debating whether or not to jerk away. He hated to admit it, but it felt...nice.
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to befriend good people, regardless of your past or theirs. Not everything is as rigid and definite as you might think.”
Zuko blinked. His entrails felt like a bundle of knots. His throat grew sore and tight. The ache inside him was sickening familiar, and he hated himself for feeling it in this situation. He tried to will it away, to loathe it out of existence. But it was there, cold and stinging.
The pain of being left.
He hadn’t had a head of hair to pet since he was thirteen. All Zuko wanted was to lean into Uncle’s touch and let him scratch his scalp forever. Instead, he ducked out of Iroh’s reach, clambering to his feet.
“You’ve officially lost your mind,” he growled, running his fingers through his hair irritably. Uncle stood by his side, a somber smile on his face. His nephew’s walls held strong, but they were weakening every day. He still needed more time, more patience, but the old man had hope.
“Come, Prince Zuko,” he said. “Now that you’re feeling better, it is time to resume your firebending training.”
Zuko turned to face him, his scowl melting into a look of excitement. “Wait—really?”
Iroh nodded. “It is time you moved on to the advanced set, and learned how to defend yourself against people like Azula.” He assumed a steady stance and pointed two fingers toward the sky. “Do this motion with me.”
The prince stepped in front of him and mirrored his movements. He still couldn’t fully extend his left arm, but he tried his best to copy Uncle’s form. “What are you going to show me?” he asked eagerly.
Iroh grinned. “A firebending technique that I developed by studying waterbenders, one that neither Azula, Ozai, or any other firebender except me can do.” His eyes twinkled defiantly. “How to redirect lightning.”
#zuko#iroh#atla#ticklish!zuko#ticklish zuko#sfw tickle fic#sfw tickling#Avatar The Last Airbender#gaang#zuko fic#lee!zuko#atla fic#atla tickle fic#atla tickling
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Soulmates: How John Met Sherlock...Again Chapter 5
Hello, my lovelies. Another post on Saturday?? You spoil us, Jane! I know it's crazy, but I love you all and being in touch again means a lot to me. Hmm. Well, that was more heartfelt than I'd planned. Suffice it to say, I'm in a bit of a mood. I got some bad news yesterday and will know more on Tuesday. I don't want it to keep me from posting because you all DO mean a lot to me and your support does to. We'll just have to see how things go.
---
Sunday morning is awash with breakfast and icing and wrapping Olive’s gift for Mycroft. Sherlock struggles to keep his mind off John at first, but he is quickly caught up in their preparations and Olive’s constant chatter. Soon they are in one of his brother’s sleek black cars and on their way to a luxury flat all too near their own. Of course, another country wouldn’t be far enough away for Sherlock. There were only two reasons Mycroft had become more tolerable over the last eight years and one of them was sitting next to Sherlock asking questions and telling him her plans for the party. When Olive came into Sherlock’s life Mycroft finally believed, once and for all, that his little brother would not use again and would take care of himself. For all the modifications he made for raising a child, his life was significantly more simple without Mycroft’s interference.
Sherlock stares straight ahead, not really seeing the back of their driver’s head or the rear view mirror. He hears Olive as she continues talking at top speed, but is not listening at all. He would never ignore her, of course, and he will pay for it if she realizes he is distracted. Sherlock will risk it though to review the particular thoughts running through his mind.
John is back in London. He does not live far from Sherlock and has a daughter in Olive’s class. Mycroft knows it. He must know it and yet, he said nothing to Sherlock. Not even so much as a hint or, more likely, horning in to advise Sherlock to stay away from the doctor. He said nothing, did nothing. Mycroft could have stopped Sherlock from ever meeting Gracie’s father if he had wanted to. Why hadn’t he?
Sherlock rolls this around in his mind as they turn a few more corners, traversing the busy streets of London. Mycroft has always meddled in Sherlock’s life, always tried to control things. In spite of the improvements to the situation, Sherlock knows his brother would never pass up the chance to keep him away from John. We wouldn’t want you to be reminded of the past and return to old habits, would we, Sherlock? That’s what the pompous ass would say. Sherlock glares ahead unseeing, his grey eyes narrowing and the delicate skin beneath them contracting. Mycroft has done nothing that Sherlock would have expected in this scenario and the most likely conclusion is also the most ludicrous. Can it be that Mycroft wants Sherlock and John to meet again? If he is not actively trying to keep them apart, has he somehow orchestrated John’s move back and their subsequent meeting? The world is seldom so careless.
“Dad?” Olive’s irritated tone breaks Sherlock’s concentration and he looks to her instantly, trying to keep a guilty expression from his face.
“Hm?” Sherlock hums a reply, picking apart what words he had heard her speaking.
“Are you even listening?” Olive asks, her eyes narrow slits of suspicion. Knowing there is no escape, Sherlock opens his mouth to confess, but Olive barrels on before he can say a word. She obviously cares less about what he was doing before than she does about having his attention now. “I’m going to tell them all about Gracie and our pirate adventures in the park and that she likes Nancy Drew and what’s going on with Samantha Jones and…”
“You have so much to tell that they won’t get a word in,” Sherlock interrupts her with a light tease in his tone. “You may have to wait for another time. It is his birthday, after all.”
“Pfft,” Olive blows out a dismissive breath that makes her lips vibrate. “Dad, you know how much Uncle Mycroft likes my updates.”
Sherlock inhales slowly as he quickly considers the truth of her statement. He tilts his head and nods, his lips pressed together and brows arched.
“We’re here!” Olive squeals suddenly as the car comes to a stop in front of a very stylish 19th century building. The little girl throws open the door and leaps out of the backseat, making a b-line for the front door. She has barely taken her fingertip off the bell before the door opens and she dashes inside to find her uncles.
Sherlock follows at a more leisurely pace, making his way to the kitchen. He knows the two men will be there preparing lunch for four together. John’s face invades his thoughts again as he walks. He has more grey than Sherlock remembers, but the blonde is still more prominent. John would disagree, no doubt, but it suits him. He looks very dignified, which is a good look for a doctor. John looks good in general. He is still fit, his eyes still bright and clear, and still the eye-catching blue Sherlock saw in his dreams for years after John left. There are a few additional lines around them, but they are still gorgeous and so is John. God, how Sherlock has missed him and in so many ways.
Finally reaching the kitchen, Sherlock pushes the swinging door open and is greeted by a sight that warms his heart every time, in spite of Mycroft being one of its major players. As per usual, Olive ran headlong into the room and jumped into her uncle’s arms. The result is a penny-clad Mycroft holding her off the ground in a tight embrace as she hugs him to within an inch of his life. Sherlock has to admit he could never imagine his brother as an uncle and certainly not a good one, but Mycroft has adored Olive and his role in her life from the day she was born. The man certainly has changed. Of course, having a lighthearted partner has helped considerably.
“There he is,” Greg Lestrade says loudly with a smile on his face. Olive twists around to look at her father, eyes sparkling silver.
“I told you he wasn’t far behind,” she beams as Greg approaches the detective, reaching for the cake holder in his hands. She turns to Mycroft and tilts her chin up proudly. “I put the icing on your cake myself, Uncle Mycroft. I even tubed happy birthday on it.”
“Piped, sweetie,” Sherlock corrects her as Greg takes the covered container with a hello and a ta. The detective trails behind and places the two bags he is holding on the table against the wall. Greg looks up after depositing the cake on the same table.
“You did?” Mycroft asks with as sincere a smile as he will ever have. “Thank you, my sweet. I can’t wait to see it.”
“Daddy says we have to wait until after lunch,” Olive states in a serious tone laced with excited energy.
“He’s right, you know,” Mycroft says, lightly touching her nose.
“What?” Sherlock cocks his head, wearing an expression of mock surprise. “Would you mind repeating that? Greg, where’s your mobile? I want this documented.”
“You are entertaining as ever, brother mine,” Mycroft says wryly as he returns Olive’s feet to the ground. “Come on, Olive, you can help me check the ham.”
“Can I wear the oven mitts?” she bubbles on the way to the oven.
“Of course,” Mycroft says, motioning for her to hold up her hands like a doctor who has just scrubbed in for surgery. He puts one large mitt over her right hand and another on the left, then tugs on his own and adopts a similar posture. “Ready?”
“Ready and waiting,” Olive replies. Mycroft picks up a meat thermometer and hands it to her. They nod once at one another and bend down to open the oven door and peer inside.
Greg and Sherlock can neither one stifle their chuckles as they watch. After eight years, Sherlock can still scarcely believe it. He turns back to Greg in another minute, observes the man’s curious expression and cocks a brow.
“What’s all this then?” Greg motions toward the bags.
“Olive insisted we bring gifts and candles,” Sherlock tells him and Greg begins to laugh. “I told her fire alarms may sound if we actually light 59 candles, so we agreed the orange ones represent ten candles each.”
“Fantastic,” Greg laughs, patting Sherlock’s shoulder with one hand. Meanwhile, Mycroft gives his baby brother a perturbed look that vanishes as soon as Olive asks if she can fill everyone’s glasses with ice and water in the last few minutes before the ham is finished. She goes to the freezer as Mycroft fills a pitcher and they both push through the swinging door to the dining room. Greg drops the smile as soon as they are out the door and fixes Sherlock with a serious gaze that genuinely startles the detective, but cocking his brow again is the only hint of the emotion.
“So you saw him,” Greg says without preamble. It is not a question and confirms what Sherlock has suspected since the moment he laid eyes on John Watson in Regents.
“Why?” Sherlock snarls. He might have saved his ire for Mycroft alone, but Greg going in on the deception stings and more than a little. The CDI glances toward the door and squares his shoulders with Sherlock’s, looking into the detective’s death glare without wavering.
“I didn’t know until last night,” Greg’s tone is urgent and in much the same style it is on a crime scene. “Myc told me when he got home. How are you?”
“Why?” Sherlock repeats with no less anger.
“He thought it best you not know,” Greg tells him with a shrug that is somewhere between apologetic and my life partner is an idiot, “but knew he couldn’t keep the secret once Gracie turned up in Olive’s class.”
Sherlock is silent. His anger does not lessen, but Greg no longer shares its focus. That honor belongs to his brother alone once more. Greg eyes his glowering face and shifts his weight back for a better view of Sherlock’s body language. What greets him are muscles stiff with fury and a clenched jaw. Sherlock has told Mycroft many times what will happen if he continues his attempts to control Sherlock’s life. Obviously, Sherlock has not yet made his position clear.
“You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?” Greg cringes, watching the muscles in Sherlock’s jaw work.
“Yes,” Sherlock glares, not mincing words. Greg squares his broad shoulders and raises his hands, palms out.
“Okay, but let him explain why,” he begins.
“You told me why,” Sherlock snaps, growing tired of the conversation. He blows out a petulant breath and straightens his spine to stand at his full height. For all his posturing, Greg does not even seem to notice.
“Yeah, but I didn’t say anything about his reasoning,” Greg presses. Sherlock fixes him with narrowed eyes and a look that screams ‘You must be kidding’.
“His reasoning,” Sherlock repeats, annoyed and incredulous. “Oh, for god sake.”
“You’ll want to know what it is,” Greg says lightly, arching his brows. “It makes sense. Well, by his way of thinking.”
Sherlock’s whole face drops into an expression of indignance that says it all.
“I’m not saying I agree with him, or that he isn’t being an ass AGAIN,” Greg admits with a shrug of his shoulder, “but it makes sense. To his…”
“Way of thinking, yes,” Sherlock finishes with a growl. He opens his mouth to launch into a tirade on his brother’s incessant interference when Olive suddenly bursts through the swinging door, followed by the man himself. If Mycroft notices the tension in the air, or Sherlock’s thunderous expression, he does not show it as he and Olive walk straight to the oven.
“It is definitely ready to come out now,” Mycroft is saying while putting oven mitts on Olive again, one by one. “We’ll take it out and transfer it to the platter. Then I’ll slice it while you hold it steady with this.”
He holds up a long, two-pronged meat fork and Olive’s eyes go wide. She nods enthusiastically, chanting ‘yes, yes, yes’ and hops from one foot to the other.
Sherlock and Greg break away, taking side dishes and rolls into the dining room. Within minutes, the four of them are seated at the table and passing around food. Sherlock pushes down his anger and engages in comfortable conversation with the others, although Olive does most of the talking. She answers her uncles’ inquiries about school and the most recent experiment she and Sherlock have done. She tells them about the seeds they planted in a window box they had just installed in the kitchen as part of a science unit, but she mostly talks about Gracie and all of the things they do together.
“Wow,” Greg leans back in his chair, slightly pushing away his plate. “She sounds like quite a best friend. Almost like the perfect one for you.”
Greg turns his head slowly and stops on Sherlock with a pointed expression. The detective meets his gaze and gives a nearly imperceptible twitch of his head in response. Mycroft does not so much as glance at Sherlock, just as he has done throughout the meal. It isn’t that he is avoiding Sherlock’s eyes and with it, his ire, he merely knows his little brother and his “moods” well enough to wait for the appropriate time and place. In the past, Sherlock would have been more than happy to press the issue no matter who was in the room, if for no other reason than to humiliate Mycroft, but not now. Not with an excited child in the seat next to him and especially not on his brother’s birthday when said child is practically falling out of her chair from fidgeting for cake, songs, crackers and presents.
“She certainly does,” Mycroft says in his usual tone. It sounds condescending when he speaks to Sherlock, but is fond and pleasant when addressing Olive. “You two have so much in common. Have you had your playdate yet?”
His voice rises at the question, but in the way he uses only when he already knows the answer and is actually prodding Sherlock. The detective blinks slowly, not rising to the bait as Mycroft finally glances his way with a knowing expression. Damn him.
“Not yet, but we’re working on it,” Olive replies with a significant nod and raised brows. She tries to wink at him, but only succeeds in contorting her face and deliberately blinking both eyes very slowly. Greg just stifles a laugh, but cannot hide the grin on his face. He clears his throat to cover and begins to rise while reaching for his plate.
“Why don’t we get the cake, Olive?” he suggests. “You can put all the candles on.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Olive chants, jumping out of her seat. She grabs her own empty plate and turns to Sherlock. “Can I take yours, Dad?”
“Yes. Thank you, sweetie,” he hands it to her and she follows Greg through the swinging door. Sherlock inhales deeply, gathering himself so his annoyance does not spill forth now that he and Mycroft are alone. He lets his gaze slide over to his brother, who is already watching him expectantly with narrowed eyes. Sherlock looks at him coolly and says nothing. They can hear Olive and Greg giggling in the kitchen as they ready the cake and dessert plates. Mycroft keeps his eyes trained on Sherlock, waiting for an insult or snide question. The detective’s face remains neutral as he continues to sit in silence. He will not give Mycroft the easy out of beginning this conversation with a fight, not to mention he has no intention of starting something Olive could walk in on.
Mycroft finally sighs loudly and shifts in his seat to lean forward, resting his forearms on the table. Sherlock cocks a brow and narrows his eyes, lips pressing together in a thin line.
“Sherlock,” the elder Holmes’ tone is back to condescension.
“No,” Sherlock’s hand shoots up with the command. Mycroft’s brows arch in response. He looks as though he might try to continue speaking, so Sherlock pins him with a glare that demands Mycroft keep his mouth shut. Nevertheless, he parts his pursed lips and draws a breath.
The swinging door flies open as Olive and Greg burst in.
“Happy Birthday, Uncle Mycroft!” they cry together with big grins on their faces. Greg carries the cake, complete with burning candles and Olive holds a tray with a stack of four shallow bowls, spoons and a container of vanilla ice cream. Before either Holmes can react, the merry duo is singing Happy Birthday and placing their wares in front of Mycroft. Sherlock does not join in, but they don’t seem to notice.
“Blow out the candles,” Olive exclaims as soon as the song is over. “Wait, wait! Make a wish.”
Mycroft blows out the breath he sucked in noisily for show and makes quick work of the tiny flames. Olive cheers and claps while Greg leans down and drops a quick kiss to Mycroft’s lips.
“Happy Birthday, love,” he murmurs, his gaze soft.
“I want to pull off the candles,” Olive declares, climbing onto her chair and sitting on her knees for more height. She yanks one out of the icing immediately and places it on the tray at Greg’s direction. Once she is finished and licking icing off her fingers, Greg cuts a piece for each of them. Mycroft gets the first one, but he waits until everyone has been served before his first bite.
“Oh, Olive, this is delicious,” Mycroft smiles at her grin and bright eyes. She shoves her own fork in her mouth and chews. “You and Sherlock really have outdone yourselves.”
Sherlock bristles at the sound of his name on Mycroft’s lips. He ignores his brother’s attempts to draw him in, unsure he will be able to keep the anger from his tone, and eats in silence.
“Thanks,” Olive beams, taking another bite. “I know how much you love chocolate cake and Daddy suggested the icing.”
“Did he?” Mycroft’s gaze turns to Sherlock. The elder watches carefully as his brother makes every effort to maintain a mask of indifference. “How nice.”
“Uh-huh,” Olive inhales the last of her cake and drops her fork on the table. Still sitting on her knees, she hops a little as she watches her uncle daintily slip his from between his lips. “I want to give you my present! Did you get any presents yet?”
Olive shifts her dancing eyes to Greg, who promptly grins like an idiot and glances at Mycroft. Sherlock shifts in his seat uncomfortably as he analyses the expression. Greg ducks his chin down and gives a slight shake of his head, along with a quiet laugh. He appears almost bashful. Oh, god.
Sherlock can barely hold in a disgruntled huff. He is not a prude by any stretch of the mind. In spite of what Mycroft may think, sex does not alarm him. However, that still does not mean he wants to know anything about what happens in his brother’s bedroom.
“As a matter of fact, Greg gave me his present this morning,” Mycroft smiles sweetly at his partner. It is an expression Sherlock never thought he would see on his brother’s face, but seemed instantly natural once he and Greg began dating. Mycroft is still sharp as ever, especially on the job, but Greg smoothed out a lot of the edges in his personal life. Greg had even helped mend fences for the Holmes brothers, a daunting task if ever there was one. He is the other reason Mycroft has become more tolerable.
Sherlock brings his glass to his lips for a drink as he considers his friend, a man he took for an ordinary idiot when they first met, and lets out an amused breath through his nose at how far they have all come since then.
“You mean like sex?” Olive’s voice asks and Sherlock spits his water onto his own cake, fortunately missing anything of consequence. Everyone stares and Olive jumps off her seat with a start. Sherlock grabs a napkin and dabs at all of the droplets he can see on the table around him, mumbling apologies until Greg finally catches his hand to still it.
“It’s okay,” Greg tells him. “No worries.”
Sherlock’s eyes widen at the softness on his friend’s face and immediately dart to Mycroft’s left hand. No ring. That doesn’t make sense. He glances at the pockets in Mycroft’s waistcoat and sees the slight bulge of a small box. There it is. He leans back in his chair and extricates his hand from Greg’s, setting aside the napkin as he moves.
“I see congratulations are in order,” Sherlock remarks. Greg’s eyes brighten and he claps the detective’s arm.
“I knew we couldn’t hide it for long,” the CDI laughs. “Thanks, mate.”
“Brother,” Mycroft nods somewhat smugly, no doubt because it remained a secret for as long as it did.
“What?” Olive asks as her gaze shifts from one man to another. “What’s going on?”
She puts her hands on her hips and stamps a foot when no one answers, her brows knitting on her wrinkled forehead. Taking pity, Mycroft turns toward her and fishes the box out of his pocket. He holds it out to the girl, who is frozen where she stands, face lit up like it is Christmas. Her palms fly to rest on either side of her face, pushing together until her lips are bunched up comically in between them.
“Actually, he gave me this,” Mycroft says in a tone of quiet anticipation. Olive reaches for the box inquisitively and takes it only when her uncle nods his approval. She pops open the lid as soon as it is in her little hands and gasps loudly at the simple platinum band.
“It’s perfect!” she squeals, jumping up and down. She thrusts it back at Mycroft, still hopping wildly. “Put it on. Put it on!”
All three men are laughing at this point, Olive’s glee filling the room with light and energy. Mycroft takes the ring from the box and slides it delicately onto his long finger where it rests comfortably like it was always meant to be there. Olive yelps happily and leaps into his arms.
“I’m so happy for you!” she cries and turns to Greg, not loosening her grasp on her uncle. “And you too, Uncle Greg!”
“Thanks, sweetie,” Greg answers, reaching for Mycroft’s shoulder and touching it warmly.
“I want to be in the wedding!” Olive nearly shouts. “Can I be in the wedding?”
“Of course you can,” Mycroft assures her with an uncharacteristic grin, “and you can even pick out the dress.”
“With ruffles?” Olive gasps, hands covering her mouth.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Yahoo!” Olive is off his lap in a second and dancing around the room. Greg and Sherlock laugh as they watch her twirl and spring from one spot to another.
“We were actually hoping someone else would be in it too,” Mycroft says guardedly, eyeing his baby brother. Sherlock’s smile falls instantly and he freezes in place with his gaze on the elder. “Would you stand up for me, Sherlock?”
Sherlock does not even twitch with an answer. Even Mycroft, with all his secrets and intelligence, seldom surprises the detective, but at this moment, he is speechless. Nevermind he had not expected his brother to ever marry. Hell, he honestly never thought Mycroft would fall in love. Sentiment is a weakness and all that, but the last few years with Greg had certainly changed Mycroft’s opinion on that. This though. This implied his feelings toward Sherlock had changed as well. He had always claimed his meddling was out of concern and Sherlock had seen it for the lie it was, but now. The possibility seemed impossible, even with the evidence right before his eyes.
“Yes, Daddy, you have to!” Olive runs for her father and dives into his lap. Sherlock’s heavy limbs catch her clumsily as she wraps her arms around his neck. “You can wear one of those tax-idoes and stand next to Uncle Myc and I’ll stand next to you. We’ll be beautiful.”
“Yes,” Sherlock replies slowly, not wanting to spoil her mood with his true answer, “it will be lovely.”
“Yay!” comes her cheer, only to be silenced with another gasp. “My present. You have to open my present!”
Olive gestures toward Mycroft as she runs out of the room, dodging furniture and throwing the door open. She pops back into view as it swings back into the dining room, a twelve by fourteen inch box in her hands that is wrapped in paper covered with brightly colored balloons.
“I wrapped it myself,” she says proudly, straightening up tall. “Daddy only gave me the pieces of tape this year.”
“My, my. You are growing up, aren’t you?” Mycroft says in admiration and takes the box when she thrusts it at him.
“Go on,” she flashes a toothy grin, minus the one she lost the week before. “Open it.”
Mycroft smiles mischievously, throwing a glance at Greg and Sherlock, and tearing at the paper. He used to open packages carefully, sliding his fingers along the tape, but Olive made it clear the practice was unacceptable when she was four.
With the paper gone, Mycroft opens the box and pulls a tall cylinder with sticks glued around its outer surface. The sticks are clearly ordinary twigs one might find on the ground, but each one has been relieved of its bark and stained a lovely medium brown. They are cut to the size of the cylinder, which is actually more of a glass, and glued on vertically so no part of the glass shows through. Small knots are visible on some of them, but the quality of work cannot be denied. Surprise showing on his face, Mycroft looks over the table to Sherlock and then to his niece.
“It’s a pencil holder,” Olive tells him with pride in her voice. “You always have so many laying around on your desk.”
“Yes, I do,” Mycroft replies airily. “It’s beautiful, Olive. It really is. You made this yourself?”
“Dad helped,” she answers. “We collected the sticks in the park and he showed me how to make them pretty.”
“Well, you have done excellent work, my dear,” Mycroft pulls her close to kiss her forehead. “I love it.”
“There’s more,” Olive hops a little at his side.
He puts the pencil holder on the table and fishes into the box again, pulling out a drawing of three men and a little girl standing around a table with a cake sitting in its center. The cake is brown for chocolate icing and absolutely covered in candles. A few even stick out from its sides and every one of their tops is colored with orange marker. Mycroft can easily tell which man is which by the clothing and can’t help the small smile forming on his lips. His character wears a waistcoat with matching pants, Greg’s has a dark green shirt with short sleeves and blue pants, and Sherlock simply wears his signature long, dark coat. That is what tickles Mycroft the most. He turns to look at the little girl again.
“It’s us celebrating your birthday,” Olives says and points out who everyone is. She points to the cake too. “There’s 59 candles on it. That’s what I wanted it to look like, but Dad said we had to pretend some of the candles were really ten candles instead. I still think this is better.”
“Be that as it may, I think I agree with your father,” Mycroft remarks pleasantly, in spite of her frown. He hands the paper over to Greg who laughs heartily.
“It’s perfect,” Greg agrees. “You have your dad’s coat and hair down to a science.”
“Thanks,” Olive rushes over to hug him.
“And what’s this?” Mycroft asks, pulling what looks like a brown tail cut out of paper. Olive scurries back to his side and starts pulling out more. Mycroft has a blue scarf in one hand that is twisted into a long coil like a blindfold. With an uncertain look on his face, he directs his attention to Olive, who holds up a paper with a brown horse drawn on it in crayon.
“It’s a game. Pin the tail on the donkey,” Olive explains happily. “People play it at parties. We can all play. I made lots of tails.”
Everyone is still for a moment. Mycroft’s eyes find Sherlock’s and broadcast the need for a conversation before Olive gets too carried away. Sherlock’s face hardens, but he makes no other movement.
Greg, ever the peacekeeper, is the first to move when he rises from his chair and takes the box from Mycroft.
“Let’s put all the bits in here,” Greg begins collecting tails. “You and I can set it up in the lounge, so these two can talk for a minute.”
“Aw, but I wanted all of us to play,” Olive whinges.
“Olivia,” Sherlock begins in a stern voice, but Greg cuts him off.
“We will. Uncle Myc and your dad just need a minute,” Greg takes her hand and starts leading her to the door opposite the swinging kitchen one. He leans over slightly to speak in a fake whisper. “We’ll play once or twice and have the advantage.”
Olive inhales quietly through her mouth and looks back at the Holmeses with shifty eyes. She presses her lips together as if trying to make sure she doesn’t spill the beans and give away their conspiracy.
“We’ll be right in there,” she points to the door and what lies beyond, “just setting up, but NOT playing.”
Sherlock and Mycroft both raise a skeptical brow in unison. Olive giggles, not trying to hide her intentions in the slightest, and looks back at Greg. He flashes a knowing smile at the brothers and steers Olive to the door again.
“Come on. They won’t know what hit them,” he and Olive chuckle together as they pass through the door and out of the room.
Not looking at his brother, Sherlock’s face hardens immediately and he lifts his chin defiantly. The fury fueled by Mycroft’s attempts to hide John from him boils to the surface quickly. The detective parts his lips as he chooses from the words running through his mind. How he has tired of Mycroft’s need to control his life, to “protect” him. He has a tolerance for it no longer.
“You have questions,” Mycroft states in his damned, know-it-all voice. Sherlock inhales sharply and bites off the urge to curse.
“One,” he replies in an even, but strained tone. “Why?”
There is a moment of silence. Enough that Sherlock turns his head to look at his brother. The elder’s eyes are dull and his face bland.
“I thought that rather obvious, don’t you?” is Mycroft’s only response.
“You have let me be for years,” Sherlock ignores his words. Growing more and more angry at Mycroft’s carelessness in shattering the peace between them. Of course, he is just as frustrated with himself. Sherlock had been a fool and should have known Mycroft would jump at the chance when the right situation presented itself. Old habits are hard to break and meddling in Sherlock’s life is as central to Mycroft as his nervous system.
“John Watson has stumbled into your path again,” Mycroft’s voice is stern and commanding. Sherlock recognizes it from when he has issued orders to underlings and it makes the detective’s blood heat within his veins. “Even more dangerous than the last time.”
“Dangerous?” Sherlock barks furiously. “I put him in danger. It was not reciprocal.”
“We both know that’s not quite true,” Mycroft says quietly, purposefully. Sherlock nearly flinches at those words. The words of his mortal enemy that had so opened his eyes.
“You bastard,” Sherlock’s voice is hoarse with emotion. He wants to rise, punch Mycroft right in his smug mouth and stalk out of the room, but cannot make his body listen to the signals from his brain. A wave of frustration washing over him, Sherlock tries to gather himself. He pushes out everything other than his anger with Mycroft, but his efforts are derailed completely by his brother’s next words.
“You love him,” Mycroft’s face is stony. “You did then and you jumped off a building. You still do now. You always have.”
Sherlock stares blankly. His lips part with no words, his mind racing.
“But Olive needs you now,” Mycroft continues, his tone growing more forceful. “You do not have the liberty of giving up everything for him again, should the need arise. I thought it best he not be a part of your life.”
“And then Gracie met Olive,” Sherlock says in barely more than a whisper.
“Yes,” Mycroft murmurs. “It was a possibility I had not considered. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Sherlock straightens, rising from his chair. He walks to the window and looks out, seeing nothing but a pair of blue eyes. “John wants nothing to do with me. He won’t even let Gracie come for a playdate.”
“I can’t believe that won’t change soon enough, Sherlock,” Mycroft tells him doubtfully. Sherlock rounds on him and clenches his fists at his sides.
“What would you have me do?” the detective demands. “I will never shut him out. I did that once and it cost me everything.”
Mycroft looks into his brother’s determined grey eyes and sighs.
“Be careful, brother mine,” he says in a sage tone. “Guard your heart. Let me help when you need it. Please.”
Sherlock notices Mycroft said when and not if, but chooses not to comment. That conversation is not one he wants to have now. Instead, Sherlock merely fixes him with sharp eyes and nods once.
---
I had a lot of fun with this chapter! The image of Mycroft interacting with Olive in exactly this way fills me with such happiness. Olive holding her hands up for the mitts like a scrubbed-up surgeon and Mycroft playing right along tickles me. And then there’s Greg's line "You're going to kill him, aren't you?" as he cringes at Sherlock - I can see the actors playing this scene to perfection! Lol. I hope it gave you as much pleasure as it did me.
Love, Jane
@johnlock-rocks
#Sherlock Holmes#Sherlock#sherlockholmes#sherlock fanfic#john watson#johnwatson#johnlock#Johnlock fanfic#Mystrade
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Lukanette prompts #26 (but Luka says it...)
There was always a feeling of calm when he came home, almost nothing was better than touching down in the Paris airport and feeling the stress from touring fall off with every step from the airplane. It had been longer than Luka had liked to be away from his family and really this time he was early, not that he had told his family just yet. Luckily, Penny was the best and booked him a room where he was able to crash for the night and had options for food places nearby as he was sick of hotel room service.
“If you’re fighting with Ma again, I don't want to hear about it.” He answered the phone, knowing it was his sister on the other line.
“No, just talking about your baby pictures.”
“Oh great, you’re being sappy? Do I want to come home in that case?” Luka teased, not meaning a word of it.
“Blame your nephew, he started it.” He choked on air as he heard shuffling before Rose’s voice came through, indicating she had taken over the phone.
“Luka! We got approved for a baby boy! Captain has been a little weepy but like a good weepy because he has the most adorable face and dark hair but with a slight curl and his eyes gosh! They are like the ocean! He really likes your baby pictures, ah I can't wait for you to meet him!” Rose squealed in excitement, risking Luka’s much needed eardrum.
“Wait, wait, how did you get a whole baby?!” the older exclaimed, putting the phone on speaker in an attempt to save his ears.
“Well, two mommies loved each other very much and decided they wanted to share their love with a very special little baby. The two mommies went to meet the baby but on their way they met another precious child and they knew right away that the little boy with hair as dark a night and eyes like the ocean was destined to become part of their family. And after some time of play dates and special trips around the city, the mommies got to take their new son home.” There was some shuffling as Rose was sniffling and his sister murmuring words of comfort to her.
“I wow, congratulations… Another Couffaine huh?”
“Not quite, we still need to finalize some papers and such. We’re meeting up at Marinette’s parent’s bakery, he loves it there. This will be his first overnight stay so we’re excited but nervous because we want him to feel comfortable.”
“I don't think you have to worry, you both have a lot of love to give and worst case, Uncle Luka can come to the rescue.”
“If you were here yeah, rescue us or him depending. Maybe next time.”
“See you can be sappy! I’ve got to get going but do keep me posted, I’ll read my message even if I don’t respond right away.”
“Sure, stay safe and away from crazy fans.”
“Jules, you know we have a dye party set for when I get back. I’ll be fine.”
"Whatever loser."
So change of plans, Luka would get to see his favorite designing baker sooner rather than later which was fine by him. First he needed to wash off the plane smell and find his plain black hoodie, then he would surprise his girls. Plan in mind, Luka grabbed his shaving kit and started the shower. Shucking off his clothes and tossing them into the bag of dirty laundry he would need to do soon, the guitarist Stepped into the Shower to rinse off with Some body wash. Deciding his hair wasn't in need of a washing, Luka quickly got out and toweled off.
Luka watched as Marinette played with Llewellyn. The boy looked so happy to be running around the bakery and picking up speed now that he had some sweets to perk him up. It was kind of eerie to look at said child because Llewellyn was similar in looks to a younger Luka, it was definitely that fate had played a huge hand in guiding the boy to his family. The smiles on his sister's faces were definitely worth it and seeing him he hoped would bring an even bigger smile to them.
"Do you want to color a picture or have more cookies?" Marinette kneeled down to the little boy's height and smiled gently, hoping to ease the sudden anxiety he seemed to be feeling. It really pulled at the guitarist's heartstrings and his body moved to do what needed done before his brain had caught up with it. A soft tune slipped gently from the strings, sneaking by everyone as it blended in the background and caused little shoulders that were scrunched up to slowly relax and fall at ease. Two pairs of blue eyes sought his person but he pretended to not notice as he twined together the gentle melody with the heart songs of those sitting at the table sipping their drinks.
"Luka! You big meanie head!" Rose squealed and carefully tackled her brother in law from behind.
"Hey watch it now, Claire doesn't like the rough treatment."
"Oh hush you! Sneaky little meanie head." The petite blond hugged him even tighter.
"Well since you're here, can I get you anything to eat or drink?" The designer rose from her crouch and turned to the counter, slipping through the gap of the raised counter.
"Ah something warm please and maybe a macaroon or two."
"You got it!" Marinette spun around and reached to grab a mug from the shelf, her shirt sliding to reveal a hint of green and black on her pale skin.
"I uh hey Ma-ma-Marinette uh is that- its okay if I just have a plain cup! I just uh okay please don't punch me too hard but is that a tattoo?! " He could feel his cool factor dying at that moment.
Marinette dropped from her tiptoes to standing normally once more and Luka found he could breathe again as the tattoo went out of sight again. She had always been able to give him a heart attack and the guitarist could already hear the ribbing from his ever lovable sister.
"Oh! Yeah, it was a gift from Nona. You know Nathaniel and Marc’s comic? It’s inspired by Viperion." The petite woman brought over some macaroons and his designated cup with Sabine's special blend. It was like a piece of home and Luka took a large gulp in excitement, "I tend to forget unless I'm in a swimsuit or in the shower."
"Oh Luka!" Rose cried, swatting at Juleka who was laughing and grabbed some napkins to help clean up the tea that her brother had spit everywhere.
"Hey who are you?" The small voice drew the adults attention.
"Well I am called many names but to you, I am Uncle Luka. Juleka is my sister."
“Cap’tin says I look like a little you.”
“Yeah a little bit but just means you were meant to meet us, maybe even be a part of our family if that’s okay with you?” Lka smiled softly, watching the little blue eyes grow wide and a bit sparkly from tears. “What’s your favorite song?”
“Smoke on the water.”
“Oh good choice! And what’s your name?” Luka started strumming the requested song, twisting the notes and improvising some notes as he watched the kid.
“Llewellyn, I’m this many!” The small boy held up six fingers with a big smile.
“That’s a big number.”
“Not as big as your number though… Why is your hair blue? Can I have green hair? Can I play guitar? How do you play it? Is it heavy? Can you sing too? Are you a rockstar? When I’m big, can I be like you?” The young boy fired off, slightly catching Luka off guard and causing the women to laugh.
“Slow down speed racer, deep breath,” the guitarist inhaled slowly and evenly with Llewellyn and released the breath in the same manner before answering, “now isn't that better? Blue is my favorite color, maybe we can have matching green hair for your party. Playing guitar can be tricky but if you want I can show you how, it can be heavy if you hold it too long but then you build up some muscles and it’s not so bad. I can sing but not as good as your Momma Rose. I’m not a big rockstar but when I grow up more I hope to be. And I’d like that but I doubt Momma Jules would like that too much, I drive her crazy.”
“Are you mean to her?” The small boy frowned, scooting back a few steps warily.
“Nope, just silly and it drives your Ma crazy because it happens a lot.” Luka’s honesty and resuming the plucking of his guitar strings to ease the sudden tension. Sharing a fond look with Juleka that they would later deny, the elder male lifted his guitar and removed the strap completely before sliding to the floor. Waving over the young look-alike, he helped to position the guitar and demonstrated how to strum and play different chords before letting the child noodle on the guitar. Luka picked himself up and finished his slightly cold tea before returning the mug to Marinette.
“He’s so happy Luka! Just look at him!” Rose was sniffling and wiping away tears, the reality that Llewellyn was part of their family finally settling in.
“Yeah he fits right in. So now that you found a mini me, with your attitude and shares a whole name with me, are you going to deny that’s why you picked him?”
“Nothing to deny.” Juleka wiped away a few stray tears from her wife’s face and laced their fingers together. “It was meant to be.”
“Calling dad out here Jules.” Luka quirked a brow, ignoring the snort his words caused.
“Calling B.S. huh? Fine, that’s about ninety percent, the other ten is he looks like he could be your kid if a certain designer were the mom.”
His ears were full of cotton and he missed the squeak of surprise because of course, this was Juleka he was talking about, Marinette was coming up behind him and he froze. The slight curl to Llewellyn’s hair was similar to his if he had it shorter, the blue eyes were lighter than his but the shape reminded him of Marinette’s. And judging by the sly look in his sister’s amber eyes and the giggles from his sister-in-law, they had planned this to drop that bomb at some point. That’s what he gets for having a nosy family.
“Unca Luka! My fingers hurt, how do you play for hours ?” Luka turned around as his nephew, that would take some getting used to, groaned.
“Practice and patience.”
“Sounds like good advice for other things.”
“Practice and patience, two very very useful things when it comes to many things.” Luka tried to smile reassuringly at Marinette who was turning an even deeper shade of red and made his way back to Llewellyn, intent on ignoring his scheming sisters and spending the little bit of time left for the day bonding.
#lukanette endgame#lukanette#luka cou#marin#modern au#Fen's Plunny Corner#rose lavillant#juleka couffaine#oc
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Storm of the Republic
Chapter 25
AO3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25
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Summary: When Tup murdered General Tiplar during a battle, Anakin Skywalker and Captain Rex dispatched Ahsoka, Fives, and Yara to solve the mystery that was plaguing the Clone Army. Meanwhile, Senator Padme Amidala contacted Commander Fox, Commander Tori, Riyo Chuchi, and Dipper to help her continue investigating the death of Palpatine, suspecting that Dooku was behind the evil plot. But when Dooku send an ISB agent to stop them, the team had to race against time to search for the truth, which could alter the course of the galaxy.
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Massaging her daughter’s hair with her fingers, Tori hummed a cheerful tune as Frieda was sitting inside the bathtub, splashing water with both her tiny hands. With two candles lighting up the room, the guest bathroom had a sweet scent, which comforted the clone commander.
Curling herself inside the warm, foamy bathtub was a privilege that Tori had, and it would be the last time she could enjoy a bath like this. Usually, she had to take an open shower with Frieda and her sisters and she had to be quick about it. Now, she could take as much time as she needed without rushing through her relaxation.
It was difficult for her to sleep through the night, despite the long journey from the base. She found her queen bed to be soft, unlike her stony bunk bed. Tori and Friedahad to share with Rex, who does everything he can to drive her crazy. She could even recall the time where Rex placed a dead spider on her pillow, which pissed her off the entire day. He apologised eventually, but that didn’t stop her from cussing at him.
It’s been a while since she felt peace, though she’ll have to go back to Anaxes once the mission was done, where she had to deal with Rex and the rest of the 101st Battalion, who always created chaos whenever they had the chance. Flover, especially, would put a dead rat in Dipper’s helmet, which caused him to scream until the other units could hear them.
Flover was also the reason Tori would get a headache whenever they’re in the battlefield, as the blue-haired clone would rush towards the enemies, which unfortunately became her hubris in the Battle of Coruscant. Tori wasn’t there, but she wished Flover was still alive. As mischievous as she was, the commander felt odd without her presence. Even Dipper missed her.
“Mama,” Frieda spoke, holding a rubber ducky in her hands. “Are you okay?”
“I am, baby,” Tori replied, focusing on her daughter. “I was just thinking, that’s all.”
“What are you thinking about, Mama?”
“I was thinking about your Aunt Flover. She would have loved you very much if she was still here.”
“Who’s Aunt Flover?” the little girl asked. “And where is she?”
“Well, Aunt Flover was one of my vod’ika, and she had blue hair and loves to joke around with the others, especially Uncle Dipper. She and Uncle Dipper were like cheese and crackers. Unfortunately, Aunt Flover died in a fight six months ago, and I miss her very much.”
Frieda hung her head low as her smile disappeared. “Mama, what will happen if you die?”
Tori blinked as she hugged her knees, wondering what she could answer. She was no stranger to her daughter’s odd questions, but this one struck a chord in her mind. There were many speculations about life after death, but the commander wasn’t sure what to believe in. But she can’t leave her daughter hanging. Frieda will feel as if she had done something wrong.
“There are many beliefs about what happened after death,” Tori tried to answer. “Some believe that you become one with the Force, some also believe that you either go to the Garden or the Pitfire based on your actions, and some believe that you’re resurrected into another life. The truth is, there is no right or wrong answer to what happened after death. There’s just many possibilities for you to believe, that’s all.”
“Well, what do you believe, Mama?”
“I believe that if I die, then I just fade into oblivion, that’s all.”
“Will you be forgotten, Mama?” cried Frieda. “I don’t want you to disappear forever. I can’t live without you.”
Tori stroked her puffy wet cheeks, smiling. “As long as someone keeps my memory alive, then I’m never truly dead. I wish I could live forever, but that would be impossible. We all have to go, eventually.”
“Do you know when you will die, Mama?”
She shook her head. “No one knows when our time is up. That’s why we shouldn’t take life for granted. In order to be happy throughout your life, we should appreciate every moment we spend with someone we love, whether it’s big or small.”
“Then I will never forget you, Mama,” Frieda promised, as she climbed on Tori’s lap and hugged her. “I’ll do everything I can to remember you.”
Tori hugged her back with tears in her eyes. The last thing she wanted was to make Frieda an orphan. The latter had survived in the streets for a while and Tori does not want her little girl to go through that hardship ever again. Tori had to make sure she lived to see the last day of war.
As she cradled Frieda with her arms, there was a thunderous knock on the door. “Are you done?” Fox shouted. “You’ve been in there forever.”
“Damn you, Foxy,” she cursed, as she got out from the bathtub, with a five-year-old in her arms. “I was having a wonderful moment just now.”
“Whatever, just get changed,” ordered the Marshal Commander. “We have a mission to complete. Also, it’s Fox, not Foxy.”
“Oh please. I bet you were also soaking in the bathtub with Riyo too.”
Silence filled outside her bathroom door. As Tori and Frieda wrapped themselves with a fuzzy towel, Fox finally spoke after a few minutes. “Just hurry, goddamit.”
She snorted, draining the tub. If he can have a nice, romantic moment with Riyo, then I’m also entitled to have a bubble bath with Frieda as well. God, what a sly, cunning fox.
Walking out of the bathroom door, they headed inside their room and changed into the same outfits they wore yesterday, except it was dry cleaned by Padmé. Despite sweating underneath the pink dress, Tori felt as if she had just bought them from a store.
She also wore the same white ribbon as well and applied makeup on her face to look pretty. Those makeup set belonged to Padmé, but the latter was happy to let her use them. Her foundations and powders, however, don’t match her skin, so Tori just put on her eyeshadow, eyeliner, and a hint of lipstick instead.
Her cat eyeliner may not be perfect, but Tori could raise her head as she glanced at her reflections in the mirror. Who the hell gave me permission to make me this beautiful?
“Tori, are you done?” Fox banged on the door. “Come on, we have to get going.”
“I’ll be there, Foxy,” she complained. “It’s not like I’m late, anyway.”
“5 minutes or I’m leaving you behind.”
“I hate you,” she blew a raspberry, as she lifted Frieda with her arms and rushed towards the living room, where everyone was geared up for a stealth mission.
#star wars#star wars ocs#star wars original characters#star wars fics#star wars fanfics#anakin skywalker#ahsoka tano#obi wan kenobi#arc trooper fives#arc trooper yara#clone troopers#clone trooper ocs#clone ocs#commander fox#riyo chuchi#commander tori#lenora doherty#clone trooper tup#palps is dead#star wars au#star wars alternate universe#count dooku#galactic empire
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