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may-b-a-u-shewritestoo · 3 years

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The Feeling Is Mutual | | Part 2 | | Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

PART 1

Summary; You’re both profilers, analysing behaviour and making connections. So why is it so hard to read each other?

Includes; injury to main characters, talk of injury, talk of violence, talk of unsub and weapons, talk of being drugged, sickening amount of fluff, mutual masturbation, (MINORS DNI 18+)talk of sex, dirty talk, no dynamic!, and a bit more fluff :)

Word count; 3.6K

Plans had changed and you were not happy about it. The pattern in victimology had shown that the unsub targeted men who were uncomfortable in social settings. Vulnerable type. Derek, being the giant intimidating boulder of a man he was, wouldn’t have attracted the unsub.

So they were sending in Spencer. Everybody including you knew he would fit the description required for this unsub; but the thought of him being touched or hurt or flirted with by somebody that wasn’t you brought a nauseating heavy feeling in your stomach.

“What’s wrong? You’ve had a permanent frown on your face since we started this morning.”

Spencer could feel the mood thickening in the air of the hotel room as he turned to face you.

He was trying to straighten his tie, completely oblivious to the way you stared at him with a mix you could only describe as anger-lust-fear. You didn’t want to even think about how he would react to you telling him the real reason you were upset so you just sighed and shook your head.

“I just hate last minute changes. I thought we were gonna hang back, let Derek do his ‘thing’ and she’d walk out gripping his unnaturally large bicep.” You twiddled with your fingers as you mumbled an excuse to get Spencer off your back.

“What’s wrong with her walking out on my unnaturally small bicep?” he laughed, trying to lighten the mood. You rolled your eyes, forcing them away from staring at his arms and imagining yourself gripping them in a different situation.

*********************

It was nauseating. The way her fingernails slowly dragged along his forearm, and slipped a little underneath the rolled sleeve. Her stupid voice pitching higher to seem more cute and innocent. He really did fit the part, swallowing thickly and stumbling over his words when she leaned forward a little and exposed her chest a little more.

“Have you ever felt like your body was on fire?” she asked, face now mere inches away from his. Spencer looked over at the security camera that he knew could see them both.

“That’s it. That’s the line. Stand by Y/N, Morgan.” Hotch warned, watching the footage over the nervous shoulders of Garcia.

A young tech student from a local college had been extremely fortunate in escaping the unsub the early hours of this morning. He’d shakily mumbled about her saying about being on fire and then chugging back a pint of straight gin. He asked if she needed help and she’d told him her car was outside if he wouldn’t mind helping her get home.

But as he went to open the driver side door to get in, he noticed her giggling to herself and a gun sitting on her lap. So he ran.

Hotch was worried that his escape would either mess up the trap tonight, or completely change her M.O and she would devolve, leaving you all at another starting point. But luckily for you all, she only had one technique, and was set on using it; so here you all were.

As you stood with your back against the wall, you peeked your head ever so slightly around the bar doors; the small circular window showing the back of her head and Spencer in full view.

“God, she’s making me feel sick. Why is she so touchy? I thought she would’ve dragged him out of here by now.” Whispering with a malicious tone to your voice, Derek chucked quietly at your rage.

“Jealous? Pretty Boy’s getting some attention from a serial killer and you’re jealous?”

“I’m not jealous Morgan. I’m disgusted.” sighing, you rolled your eyes.

“Y/N you know it’s my job. I’m not stupid. Anyone can see you’re completely and utterly-“

“Shut up.”

“Y/N you can change the subject all you like, everybody kno-“

“Derek, they’re gone.”

You had no visual. You couldn’t see her, nor Spencer. Not even an inch of her hair flicking into a different direction, not even a corner of Spencer’s jacket.

“Hotch?” Morgan spoke with a warning inflection into his smart watch.

Scanning the footage for where they could’ve possibly gone, Hotch hurriedly put on his Kevlar and gun before jumping out to head round the back of the bar.

“Guys, I have a visual on Reid. He’s out cold up on the V.I.P balcony. I can’t seem to find-”

Peeking again through the bar window, you didn’t have time to register what Penelope was saying nor what was happening before you felt a dull pain throb through your face. Stumbling backwards and trying to keep your balance, you noticed a warm and fuzzy feeling buzzing across your body before everything went black.

***************

“Can you just shut up and pass me a spoon? I’m not kidding anymore.”

“Get it yourself. You don’t wanna listen to me, why should I listen to you?”

“You’re an asshole Derek. Just so you know. I’ve eaten Jello with a straw before, and I’ll do it again.”

“Boys, will you shut up, her eyes just moved.”

Muffled voices stirred you to consciousness as you struggled to open your eyes. Immediately sending a sharp pain to your head, the lights felt like lasers as you tried to make sense of where you were.

“Jesus H Christ, why are the lights so damn bright?”

“There she is. Good morning pretty girl.” The sweet sounds of Miss Garcia swam through your ears, and her perfume overwhelmed your senses as she leant down to kiss your cheek. “I bought you a cupcake, and I’ve made sure these two don’t touch it.”

Squinting at the two men sitting on the empty hospital bed next to yours, you laughed at the two of them. They were acting like children.

Derek had a plastic spoon in his hand, holding and waving it as far away from Spencer as he possibly could. Spencer sat cross legged, arms folded but with a sealed cup of orange jello in one hand; tutting at Derek with disappointment.

“Would anybody like to update and inform me on why on earth Penelope is babysitting us in a hospital ward?” you asked, attempting to sit up a little bit, and groaning out at how much your body ached.

Spencer almost stood up when you grimaced in pain, but stayed seated as not to look too bothered.

“We caught the unsub,” Derek began to explain, Penelope giggling when you did a silent ‘yay’ and mini jazz hands, “but she roofied Reid, which was new and discovered his badge in his jacket.” He looked over at Reid with a sarcastic look, to which he was met with shrugged shoulders and Spencer digging into his jello.

“As she came back down the stairs to make her escape, she noticed you and Derek arguing or whatever that was outside the bar doors, and snuck into the crowd to watch you. When you tried to find her, I just saw her coming towards the doors but she moved hella fast.” Penelope explained, sipping from a bright pink tumbler.

“She kicked the door that you were stood behind, and then basically jumped you until you were unconscious, but didn’t quite realise I was there. So I got her. Pretty Boy here woke up a few hours ago just hungry.”

Spencer looked up at Derek and smiled, letting everyone know he was too invested in the jello to retaliate to his sarcasm. He glimpsed over at you and smiled in a different way, which Penelope caught on to immediately.

“Anyway! The doctor said you have a lot of bruised ribs but other than that you are good to go home today! Did you want me to stay over at yours? I can bring more cupcakes?” She asked sweetly, passing you the sprinkle covered cupcake and unwrapping it for you.

She was the equivalent of a big sister and a mom to you; always looking out for you, making sure you’d eaten but also joining in on gossip and hosting alcoholic themed sleepovers. She knew about yours and Spencer’s hookups, after the one time you were accidentally too loud in the hotel room next to hers.

You’d been sat on a swivel chair in her office, begging and pleading and bribing with sweet treats and baked goods for her not to tell a soul and as far as you were aware, she stuck to her promise. With a dramatic mime of locking her lips shut, she had grabbed a croissant from your hands and turned back to her computer.

“I could - sorry - I could stay over if you’d prefer Y/N? I know we’ve got a few episodes of Black Mirror to catch up on?” Spencer jumped at the chance to interrupt, correcting himself as his volume came out louder than planned.

Nodding quickly with a huge beaming smile and a mouth full of cupcake, you could feel yourself internally healing already.

“I’d like that. If that’s okay Pen? I’ve tried to explain to him that you can’t ‘catch up’ on Black Mirror but he won’t have it.” You carried on enjoying the sugary treat, as Spencer carried on eating his; ignoring the blatant smirks being swapped between Derek and Penelope.

*****************

As far as you were concerned the past weekend had gone way too quickly. Coming home from hospital on Thursday evening, Spencer had stayed over and still hadn’t left.

It was just about Sunday morning, and you’d both passed out after playing cards until 3am. He’d kept you so busy and your brain occupied you’d barely had time to think about your body aching and healing. He made you laugh so hard at times you were tempted to call the emergency room back to see if they could check you in again.

You guys hadn’t kissed or barely touched except to cuddle on the couch; even then Spencer was hesitant because he was convinced he’d do more damage. But it wasn’t the aches and pains that was getting to you. It was the way you felt starved of touch and affection.

Usually you both would be particularly in the mood, would call one another up and you’d both satiate each other’s needs before maybe having a cuddle and leaving.

In all fairness, the last time you felt him was only yesterday morning when he came to give you some tea in bed. He’d sat beside you - very gently - drinking his own sugar and coffee; hand holding onto your thigh and stroking lightly. It was all too sweet. Sweeter than the concoction he made to drink every morning.

But now you’d woken up only a few hours after going to sleep, the room still a shade of blue and gray. Sunrise was on its way, but night was still present, no birdsong could be heard; but the soft hums of Spencer Reid sleeping filled the air.

You knew that Hotch had given the both of you time off, you had nowhere to be for 2 more days. You wanted oh so desperately to shake him awake, jump his bones and go several rounds until you were due in, but not only could your body not physically take it; your heart couldn’t either.

Something felt different. Unrecognised, the feeling of wanting something else flooded your thoughts. Did you want to be fucked? Did you want to lay in Spencer’s arms for the entire day and be held? Or did you want both?

The way he’d smiled over at you when you woke up in hospital made you feel like you’d driven over a speed bump, your tummy swirling around and doing backflips. How he’d stayed with you after, how he’d looked after you and listened to you this whole time.

Unbeknownst to you however, while you were deep in thought about whatever this weird feeling was; Spencer had blinked his eyes open, rested his head in one of his hands and was watching you.

“What’re you thinking about?”

You jumped, grimacing as you stretched out a rib that you definitely shouldn’t have stretched out. “I’m currently thinking about how much that hurt, how much I hate you and how much I’m going to regret being awake later.”

Spencer laughed, a slight husk from tiredness layered into it. He brought his opposite hand up and stroked up and down your spine, noticing how goosebumps formed underneath his fingertips.

“You cold?”

“No.”

“Come here.”

Slowly laying back down, you groaned out in a mixture of uncomfortableness and relief as you got back into the warm spot next to Reid. Looking over at him made you feel giddy, the way you would feel getting ready for a date or a big event. You were nervous. But why?

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours Y/N?” he asked sweetly, fingers coming up to stroke your cheek. He quickly withdrew them and cleared his throat, laying back down completely parallel beside you.

“Spencer, are you tired right now?”

“No. Are you?” He shuffled onto his side again.

“No. Quite the opposite.” with slight struggle, you mirrored his position, laying on your side and looking into his eyes with a lazy smile.

“Y/N, I can’t, you’re struggling to even lay down let alone-“

“No Spencer, I’m not hinting at sex. Although the millisecond I can, I will.” you laughed out, edging slightly closer to him. His breath hitched, and he shuffled awkwardly.

“What do you want?”

“I want to feel good Spence,”

“I thought you just said-“

“I want to feel good. So, I’m going to make myself feel good.” Your voice dropped a little, hoping that Spencer would catch on to what you were implying. Sometimes he could catch your drift, other times you would have to spell it out for him. Luckily for you, it was the former.

He nodded, waiting for you to make the next move. Watching you with intent, he began taking in each tiny detail of you.

The way you kept your eyes on his but let your hand trail down your body. The sigh of relief and arousal as you shuffled a little closer to him again, before laying on your back slowly and getting ready and comfortable. You let out a deep exhale while trailing your other hand over your chest, squeezing ever so lightly.

“Fuck Y/N. You’re really gonna do it? What if you hurt, the doctor recommended not strain-“

“Spencer, stop. I know my limits. I also know that if I don’t make myself cum soon I might actually spontaneously combust.”

He chuckled at your silliness, before remembering something. “There’s actually been less than 150 cases of spontaneous combustion recorded in almost 2000 years, so I doubt that your heightened state of arousal could cause you-“

“Spencer Reid, if you don’t shut up and kiss me right now I will make sure I’m the 150th case.”

He giggled and leant down to your lips, holding your face with one hand and holding himself up with the other arm. Pressing gently against your lips as if you were made of glass, he smiled against you; letting out a small moan as you reached up and pulled him closer into the kiss.

Your fingers circling over your clit through your panties caused you to wind your hips up against your hand gently, remembering not to overdo it. Moaning out quietly as you applied more pressure, Spencer pulled back to watch you.

“You look so beautiful Y/N.” He whispered, eyes darting between your face concentrated with pleasure and your hands roaming around your body.

He could feel himself growing and stiffening underneath his pyjama pants when you whimpered in response, and he bucked instinctively as the material grew tighter.

“Do you wanna touch yourself too Spence?” you mumbled out, movements staying the same speed but your head turning to watch him,“Touch yourself with me, feel what I’m feeling.”

“Yes, please.” Spencer laid down beside you again, his arm touching yours. Gripping himself through his pants he hissed out at the sudden contact.

Leaning your head against his shoulder, you watched to see what his next move would be; waiting to mirror him. He caught on to you copying his movements as he slipped his hands underneath his pants, a mix of a chuckle and a moan falling from his lips as you did the same.

“God this is so sexy..” Spencer moaned out louder this time, as he grasped his cock fully in his palm. Mimicking his actions, you also became a little louder; the feeling of skin touching skin becoming more and more intense.

“Tell me something Spence.” you spoke breathily, fingers applying more pressure to your clit and switching to dip inside yourself.

Curling his wrist with every sharp tug and squeezing the head of his cock every time he reached the top, all he could do was try to take deep breaths where he held them for so long.

“I thought about you. When she flirted with me.”

You wanted to pause, wondering why he brought up an unsub in the middle of such an intimate moment. But his next words only brought you closer to your brink.

“When I looked over her shoulder and saw you watching, saw the anger in your eyes. You looked so fucking mad baby. I couldn’t figure out why, but I liked it. When she touched me, I wished it was your hands. I thought about you the whole time, fuck.” Spencer squeezed his eyes shut, trying to not look at you in order to keep calm and patient with his orgasm.

“Yeah? Wished it was me leaning over you like that?” You could barely string a sentence together with how good you felt, your thighs clenching together around your wrist, your hips bucking up as much as your body allowed them to.

“Mhmm. Thought about taking you home, bending you over my couch with your uniform still on.”

“Fuck Spence. She made me so jealous, I wanted to go in there and rip her off of you. Would’ve made you mine right there at the bar.”

He hissed and groaned out, speeding up even more, matching the pace you had set yourself; aiming to finish with you.

“Fuck. I’m all yours Y/N, this cock is all fucking yours.” He was so close, throbbing and thrusting into his fist, pulling his head back so he could watch your face.

Hearing him say he was yours dragged you to the edge of your orgasm, thighs beginning to shake a little. Your wrist was growing tired but you refused to stop, too caught up in the gradually increasing pleasure.

“I’m so close honey, please,” you pulled your gaze away from where he stroked himself to meet his eyes, wanting to watch his face as he toppled over the edge too, “please tell me I can come, I wanna come for you.”

You grew needy, ignoring the ache in your torso as you writhed against your fingers, your head falling back as you felt the waves coming. Spencer watched as you slowly began to fall and crash into it.

Tugging at himself with the same speed as you, he quickly moved onto his side a little to watch you better. Pressing his lips to your neck, he bit down gently before whispering the words you needed.

“Let it go for me Y/N, you can come. Come for me,” As you slipped under the waves and felt like you were drowning in the numb yet intense pulsation, Spencer coaxed you through it as he too got carried away by his own throbbing, “that’s it baby, fuck I’m coming, oh my go-, ah fuck it feels so good.”

Spencer became quickly overwhelmed by his orgasm, rolling onto his back again as he carried on spilling onto his stomach. Continuing to slowly rub yourself, you came down from your crescendo and watched as he worked himself through his.

“Fuck Spencer, there’s so much.” Leaving little kisses along his shoulder, you giggled sweetly as he tensed with the aftershocks and tried to catch his breath. He grinned with a post-orgasm smile and turned his head to nestle against the top of yours.

“Are you okay?” Spencer murmured into your hair, leaving a little kiss on the crown of your head. Simply nodding against his shoulder, you attempted to shuffle closer but forgot how tense your body had been in its peak.

“Fuck. Can you help me?” Giggling and wincing at the same time as an attempt to sit up. Spencer laughed at you sweetly, sitting himself up quickly and snaking an arm underneath your back.

Pulling you up smoothly, he left a light kiss against your temple before slipping his other arm underneath your legs and hoisting you up.

“Wait, where are we going?” You whined out, wrapping your arms around his neck and shoulders. He walked the two of you into the en-suite and set you down gently on the counter.

“I am going to get us cleaned up,” he smiled at you before getting a washcloth ready, “and then we’re going to talk about us.”

He began to wipe the washcloth across his chest and his stomach, looking up curiously when you asked, “Us?”

“Wait. What you said about- when you said that thing about making me yours? Did I completely misread that? Because I feel- I thought it was obvious that I felt-“ He stumbled, self consciousness creeping in slowly as he realised he may have taken it too far.

But you smiled softly, grabbing the cloth from his hands and pulling him to rest between your legs. At least he’d cleared the air for you. You didn’t feel remotely nervous anymore.

Cupping his face in your hands and stroking along his jaw with each thumb, you pulled him in for a delicate kiss. Grinning against his lips, he returned the motion and kissed you once more.

“The feeling is mutual, Spencer.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #tfim #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic

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hotpinkhoshi · 4 years

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kiss it better | four

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, smut, brother’s best friend au (sort of)

warnings: age gap (nine years), cursing, explicit sex, slow burn

word count: 4k

summary: you were off limits for more reasons than mark could count. but everything changed for him the day you walked into his tattoo shop with those big innocent eyes and a laugh like his favorite song. he couldn’t. he wouldn’t. and yet…

a/n: hellloooooo my loves! thanks for your patience with this update! please let me know what you think about the update :)

✩ index here ✩

The last time you went bowling, you were eight years old.

It was your birthday, and you’d declared that the one thing you’d wanted was for the whole family to spend the day together. Lately, Taehyung had been focused on graduating and you’d barely seen him around the house. Your dad was always working, and your mom offered little to no comfort.

So it had been your birthday wish to have just one day that you could be a family.

For the first time in your life, you’d had a perfect day. Even Taehyung had put his responsibilities aside and come along, which had been the best part.

You didn’t win, of course. You had little to no hand-eye coordination - but you’d had more fun than you could ever remember having with your family. The one time you bowled a strike, Taehyung grabbed you and put you on his shoulders, doing laps up and down the lane while you giggled until your cheeks hurt.

When you entered the bowling alley, you tried not to remember that day. It would only bring you sadness and make you long for something you could never have again.

Instead, you honed in on a different feeling in your bones. You were meeting Mark’s friends for the first time, and it had been a long time since you’d been in such a large group. You couldn’t help but feel nervous. It made you want to steal the leather jacket Mark was wearing and let yourself be swallowed up by the heavy material.

College had been a learning experience, to say the least, and one of the most prominent lessons had been that it was easy to lose yourself in situations like these. When drinks were flowing, music was blasting, and people were laughing - you didn’t have a great track record.

Nonetheless, you let Mark lead you back to his friends after grabbing the right shoes, anxiously shoving your hands into the pockets of your shorts.

“Look who showed up!” Dahyun exclaimed once you joined their group, standing up from the cushioned seats in front of the alley.

She brushed right past Mark to embrace you in a tight hug, squeezing your shoulders and briefly rocking you back and forth.

“Damn, hello to you too,” Mark murmured. He shook his head and greeted the rest of his friends, exchanging one of those dude handshakes with a tall, lean guy with shaggy black hair.

When Dahyun let you go, she linked her arm through yours and brought you over to the group. “Everybody, this is Y/N.”

“Hi,” you responded with a shy wave.

The tall guy reached out his hand. “Hi, I’m Yugyeom.”

He had a face that made you feel like you could trust him, a smile that seemed more innocent than anything else. You couldn’t help but to return his smile and grasp his hand.

“Hi,” you said again, before Dahyun was pointing to the next person.

“This is Jackson,” she said, gesturing to a guy leaning coolly against the booth, chestnut brown hair swooped away from his face to reveal his sparkling smile.

You recognized him as the male you’d seen on that first day, the one that asked Dahyun for napkins. He was wearing a muscle shirt again, revealing the sleeves of swirling lines on both of his toned arms.

After shaking his hand, Dahyun led you to the next person. Instead of pointing at her, Dahyun wrapped her arms around the short haired blonde and slapped a kiss on her cheek.

“This is my other half, my bae, my lady. Or, you may call her Chaeyoung.”

Chaeyoung crinkled her nose and wriggled out of her girlfriend’s grasp with a giggle, reaching forward to shake your hand. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

Although they were all older than you, you didn’t quite feel the age gap as you thought you would. Yugyeom had a young soul and you felt comfortable as he helped you choose a bowling ball with the right weight.

Jackson was friendly, too, claiming you for his team before anyone else could get the chance. He said he got a good feeling from you, that you’d be his lucky charm. All you could do was blush and send Mark a shrug.

While Mark typed in everybody’s name into the machine, transferring them up onto the screen above your heads to show the scores, you accepted the cider that Dahyun slipped into your hands. If anything, perhaps it would loosen you up.

-- -- --

“If looks could kill,” Dahyun said as she slid into the booth next to Mark.

Mark brought his beer bottle to his lips, sending a side glance to his friend. “Huh?”

Dahyun just laughed, tipping her own beer back as she followed Mark’s line of sight. There was Jackson, dancing with you to the techno song playing over the speakers. You were laughing so hard your cheeks were pink.

“If looks could kill, Jackson would be six feet under,” she finished, nudging his shoulder. “You got a thing for Y/N?”

Mark scoffed, a bit too quick, and shook his head. “No. No, she’s my friend’s sister.”

Dahyun snorted. “Okay, and? Chaeyoung was my coworker. Are we just stating facts?”

She didn’t get it. Mark didn’t blame her - she didn’t know the full story. When he was younger, your parents and Tae were the closest things he’d had to family. It would have been downright betrayal to look at you as anything more than a friend.

But he couldn’t help staring, narrowing his eyes as he watched Jackson adjust your shoulders and hips before you bowled your first shot. He was sure that whatever he was feeling, it wasn’t jealousy. Something curled in his gut, though, when he watched Jackson’s fingers brush against the flower on your shoulder blade, the tattoo Mark had given you himself.

And for fuck’s sake, did you have to be wearing shorts? It was hot outside, sure, but…

He shook the thoughts out of his head, realizing that he was the one staring at your legs, not Jackson. Dahyun must have noticed as well, because she nudged him once again and giggled.

“You’re screwed, dude.”

I’m aware, Mark wanted to say. Instead, he knocked back the rest of his beer. He couldn’t bring himself to look away from you, half out of protectiveness, the other half was something else entirely, something he couldn’t identify.

-- -- --

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, watching as your bright pink bowling ball knocked down six pins. It was the most you’d gotten in one turn in the whole duration of the game. You were really bad at this, somehow even worse than you had been when you were eight.

“You did it!” Jackson yelled happily, pulling you into his arms and lifting you off your feet. You’d had a couple of ciders already, making you feel light and happy as the older man spun you around.

Jackson was cute. More than just cute - he was handsome enough to be a Disney prince. And he was funny, too. You could tell he was kind. He made you feel special when he laughed at your little quirks during the game, but you knew it was dangerous.

It wouldn’t be the first time you fell for a hot guy with a charming smile and kind eyes, and you’d told yourself you never would again. So even though he made you laugh and you liked the way he placed his hand on the small of your back, you were cautious.

Mark was quiet. When it wasn’t his turn, he was mostly brooding in the corner nursing a beer or chatting quietly with Dahyun. You wondered why he wasn’t talking to you, or even looking at you.

For a moment, you wondered if he was angry with you. He hadn’t spoken to you much, not that he was a man of many words, but you had been getting along so well lately. And he’d wanted you to come, right?

It occurred to you that maybe he hadn’t, really, and he’d just invited you to be polite. The thought made an unpleasant feeling coil in your gut.

“Last turn, you know what that means!”

A female voice called from behind you and you turned to see Chaeyoung carrying a tray of shots - at least a dozen, probably more - to your table. Your eyes widened. This wasn’t for one person, was it?!

“Yes!” Dahyun pumped her fist into the air and skipped over to her girlfriend, helping her set the tray down on the table.

“Shit, we’re still doing that?” Mark asked, his voice full of annoyance.

The girls ignored him and Dahyun turned to you. “The rule is, on your last turn, however many pins you leave standing - you take that many shots. It’s a tradition.”

You blinked a few times, staring down at the tiny shot glasses which were full of a caramelly brown liquid - probably whiskey or bourbon. Not that you had experience with either, but your old roommates always had half empty bottles laying around.

“You don’t have to,” Mark said low in your ear. You jumped, not knowing he was next to you. When you turned to him, he was giving you a dark look, like he was trying to tell you not to do it.

Suddenly, you were reminded of your brother. Taehyung was still texting you every day, telling you to go home to your parents, to grow up. He meant well, deep down, but you hated the way he thought he had a right to give you orders.

Instead of giving in, being the obedient naive girl your brother wanted you to be, you turned from Mark to Dahyun.

“Oh, no. I’m definitely doing it.”

-- -- --

“Ohhh, look at your grumpy face. You look like an old man,” you said, poking your fingertip into Mark’s cheek. “Silly.”

He should have stopped you. Mark had watched as you took five shots, one after the other. In all honesty, you’d knocked them back like a champ with hardly a grimace. But it was a quick downward spiral from there.

After tearing you away from Chaeyoung and Dahyun, who you were claiming to be your new sisters, Mark led you out of the bowling alley. With your arm around his neck and his arm stabilizing your waist, he felt like he was dragging a dead body with how helpful you were being.

Now that you were in the backseat of the Uber, you seemed to be gaining a second wind. You were leaning towards him, batting your eyelashes at him with the most infuriating, adorable smile he’d ever seen.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked, grin dropping into a pout.

Mark sighed. He was used to being the one to take care of his drunk friends - Jackson wasn’t always as good at holding his liquor as he was now. Not to mention all the trouble he and Taehyung used to get into in their teen years.

“I’m not mad.”

You blinked a few times, scrutinizing his features. “It feels like you’re mad.”

“I’m not,” he insisted, licking his lips. “I just feel like I should have been more responsible.”

You furrowed your brow and huffed, deflating back against the seat. “I’m not your responsibility, Mark. You don’t have to take care of me.”

“Yes, I do,” Mark replied. “Someone has to.”

It appeared you didn’t like his answer. You crossed your arms over your chest, tearing your eyes away from him to stare out the window.

“I’m not a kid,” you said, almost a mutter under your breath, but Mark heard you. He chewed at his lip, staring at you for a moment before he exhaled.

“I know,” Mark admitted, voice low. “I know. Look, I’m sorry, I know you’re an adult. I just…”

How could he put it into words? Something about you made him want to protect you, and it wasn’t just that you were younger, that you’d been so sheltered growing up and deserved to have someone shield you from the scary world. There was something else pulling him, and he couldn’t put his finger on it just yet.

“We’re friends, Y/N. So I wanna make sure you’re safe, okay? And I should have been looking out for you tonight, and I feel like I wasn’t,” he said.

Mark had been so broody, sitting beside himself while he watched you drink cider after cider that was handed to you, his eyes following every move you made. Until, of course, you looked at him, and he made sure to appear as uninterested as possible.

He watched you swallow and consider his words before you turned back to him. Thick silence hung between the two of you and he wasn’t sure if it was because he’d said you were friends or because he’d admitted that he had been a dick.

“I wanna live,” you said, and Mark almost thought you were sobering up, but your eyes still appeared glassy and unfocused. “I moved here to live. And… and I felt like I could, tonight, because you were there.”

Mark ignored the way he felt his heart pound in his chest, hard against his ribs.

Luckily, he didn’t need to form a response because the driver had pulled up to the apartment building. Mark thanked him and helped you out of the car, noticing the way you shivered once the cool night air hit your bare skin.

“Here,” Mark said, shrugging his leather jacket off of his shoulders and draping it over yours. “You have goosebumps.”

“Thank you,” you said. Your cheeks turned pink, radiating all the way up to your ears.

With a steadying breath, Mark led you back into the building, his hand placed on the small of your back the whole way.

Once you finally made it into the apartment, you’d seemed to regain some of your wits. Though you stumbled once or twice on thin air, your intoxication at least seemed to be at a steady level.

With Milo on his heels, Mark grabbed a bottle of water for you, handing it to you with strict instructions to sip it slowly, but to finish the whole thing before you went to bed. You pouted and saluted him sarcastically before giving Milo a goodnight kiss and heading off to your room.

Mark watched as you disappeared down the hallway, each step careful as if you were trying not to appear drunk. You’d had five shots and god only knows how many ciders, you were definitely still drunk. But he admired your effort, at least.

“What am I gonna do with her,” Mark said to Milo, shaking his head and picking the tiny dog up. Milo offered no wisdom in return, just kissed his face until Mark had to cut him off and set him down.

Despite Mark’s worries, he attempted to go about his night just as he normally would. He heard you opening and closing dresser drawers, probably a bit louder than you intended, signaling to him that you were at least capable of getting yourself changed for bed on your own. Thank god for that.

Mark himself changed into his usual sleepwear, a pair of basketball shorts and a muscle shirt, then proceeded to wash his face and brush his teeth. He felt like his ears were perked, waiting for any sign of trouble so that he could come to your rescue. It was a strange, pathetic feeling.

He glimpsed your figure out of the corner of his eye while he was mid-brush, purple toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. You had your toiletry bag in your arms, your previous outfit swapped out for a pair of leggings and an oversized college shirt.

“Can I?” you asked, nodding with your chin to the empty space at the sink.

“Mm,” he murmured in response, holding up one finger to signal you to wait a moment. He quickly finished brushing his teeth and rinsed his mouth, then took a sidestep to make room for you at the sink.

He tried not to stare at you and instead pretended like he was checking the shelf above the toilet for something, though he paid attention to the way you sat your bag down and unzipped it, sifting through it until you pulled out a bottle of clear liquid and a cotton pad.

You seemed a bit unsteady, wobbling a on your feet just standing still. You were holding the cotton pad and makeup remover in each hand, biting hard onto your lip.

“Y/N?” Mark asked. “You good?”

With a sigh, you shook your head. “Don’t feel good.”

“Well, that might have something to do with the liter of alcohol you drank,” he remarked with a smirk.

You whined and turned to Mark, surprising him by holding the items in your hands out to him. “Help. If I have to stare at myself in the mirror, I’m going to throw up.”

All he could do for a moment was stare down at your hands, the objects that were basically foreign to him. He’d never touched a bottle of makeup remover in his life, and the only time he used cotton swabs were for sterilization at the shop.

“I… what?” he stuttered.

“Just pour this on this, then wipe my makeup away. It’s easy.”

Mark blinked a few times, torn between telling you to do it yourself or just walking away. But the way you were gazing up at him with glassy eyes and the most pathetic frown was what made him reach for the cotton pad and makeup remover.

“Okay, just, close your eyes. And you can’t be mad at me if I do it wrong.”

You smiled, then, turning your body to lean back against the sink. Mark stood in front of you, popping open the cap of liquid and pouring some onto the cotton round. You gave him a nod of approval at the amount he used, then closed your eyes.

He slid the cotton pad over your eyes, overly gentle at first to a point where nothing was removed. So he went over again, until he was sure that he got the hang of it. He watched as all your mascara and eyeliner was wiped away, not that you’d had very heavy makeup on to start with.

“Mark,” you whispered, after he’d gotten your eye makeup off. You opened your eyes and Mark realized just how close to you he was standing, but he didn’t make any effort to move away.

“Yeah?” he replied, just as quietly.

“Why haven’t you asked why I’m not talking to my parents?”

Mark swallowed, his hand dropping from your face. “I figured you would tell me when you felt comfortable.”

You nodded. “I feel like I should tell you.”

“You don’t have to,” he replied, shaking his head. “Not if you’re not ready.”

Your bodies were so close together, he could smell the lingering perfume on your skin and he tried so hard not to inhale too deep, not to notice how good you smelled.

“I dropped out of school,” you blurted out. “When I told my parents, they…” you blew out an exhale, your eyes staring out over Mark’s shoulder as if you were remembering how it all happened. “They told me I could go back to school or get out of their house. They didn’t ask why I dropped out, or if I was okay, they just wanted me gone.”

Mark didn’t respond, although he had a thousand questions begging to be answered. But he wanted to give you the time, the space to share more if you wanted.

“I hated school. My grades were fine, they were excellent really, but I was miserable. I ended up… doing something really stupid, and it was the last straw.”

When you didn’t continue, instead locking eyes with Mark again, he swallowed and chose his words carefully.

“I’m sorry. No matter how I feel about your parents, that’s… it’s messed up. You deserve to have their support,” he said quietly, slowly bringing his hand back up to your face.

He swiped the cotton pad across your cheek, taking your makeup and a stray tear with it. You nodded and sniffed once.

“It’s okay. But that’s why I’m here,” you told him, voice quiet. “They forced me out. And I wanted to have a life, so I came to the city.”

“And?” Mark asked, trying to lighten the mood. “Is it everything you ever dreamed of?”

You laughed, soft and breathy. “It’s not so bad. I’ve got good company.”

When your eyes met, Mark felt that grip on his heart again. The way you looked at him made his mind foggy, like he had been the one to take five shots of whiskey. He hadn’t been looked at like this in a long time, maybe ever.

“Close your eyes,” Mark said. His voice came out deeper, more gravelly than he intended.

After you obeyed, he slid the cotton pad over your other eye to remove the makeup there, at least grateful to be free of your overwhelming gaze.

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” you whispered, catching him off guard.

Mark was used to this question. At the age of thirty, he was expected to be in a serious relationship, if not already married. So when people found out he’d been single for years, they were shocked.

“Uh, well-” Mark stuttered, his fingers pausing as they brushed against your cheek. “I… I don’t go out a lot. And I guess I like being alone. I’m comfortable like this.”

“What about me?”

There it was again, that thumping in his chest.

“You’re different,” he whispered. He didn’t even notice he had dropped the cotton pad, leaving nothing between the soft skin of your cheek and his hand.

Your eyes fluttered open - clear, and so, so close. It stirred something in him, a feeling that had remained dormant for what felt like his entire life.

Then your lips were against his. It happened so fast, he didn’t even know who leaned in first. He was pretty sure you’d kissed him, but he had felt so drawn to you in that moment that he couldn’t be sure.

It only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough. Enough for you to tilt your head, slip your tongue past his lips. God, it’d been so long…

Mark surged back a step, his shins colliding with the tub behind him. He inhaled sharply, his lips tingling from your kiss.

“Oh, god,” you said, your eyes flying open. “Oh my god. Mark, I…” Your hand came up to cover your mouth as you stared at him.

“Shit,” Mark muttered, running his fingers through his hair. “Shit. It’s okay.”

He couldn’t look at you. He was looking anywhere but at your face as he rubbed his neck, trying to process the last ten seconds.

“I’m sorry,” you said. You turned from him, grabbing your bag from the sink and scurrying out of the room.

Mark watched you leave, listening for the sound of your bedroom door shutting behind you. He groaned quietly to himself, leaning his palms onto the sink.

“Fuck. Shit. You’re so fucking stupid,” he told himself in the mirror.

He closed his eyes and counted to ten. Once, twice, three times. He had no explanation, no excuse for what had just happened. You’d been the one to initiate the kiss, but he’d kissed you back.

He knew better. Despite the circumstances, he knew better than to look at you like that, as anything other than a friend. A little sister, even.

With one deep inhale and a long exhale, Mark made up his mind. He would do the right thing, no matter how hard it was or how much you’d hate him for it.

He grabbed his phone off of the sink, browsing his contacts until he found the name he’d been looking for. It was his new number, but he hoped he would answer.

Holding the phone up to his ear, Mark listened as the phone rang three times. He almost hung up, deciding that maybe it wasn’t worth it. Tomorrow, he could tell you to call him yourself.

The ringing stopped. “Hello?”

He cleared his throat. “Taehyung? Hey, man. It’s Mark.”

“Mark? Shit, it’s been a while. What’s up?”

Mark kept his eyes on the mirror, making sure he got a good look at himself as he flipped your world upside down.

“Look, this is probably unexpected, but… I need to talk to you. It’s about your sister.”

#mark tuan #mark tuan fanfic #mark tuan angst #mark tuan fluff #mark tuan imagine #got7 mark #mark imagine #got7 imagine #got7 fanfic #got7 scenario #kibfic #writing

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mystic-kitten-writer · 4 years

Text

Limerence [M] ︳33

Pairing: Zuko x OC

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

Rating: SFW

Words: 18300+

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

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

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

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

Masterlist ︳32 ︳ 34

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

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

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

“Eccedentesiast”

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

~ Ying Yue Jiang ~

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

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

Imperial Consort of the Fire Lord.

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

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

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

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

I was selfish.

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

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

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

I did lose him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But what more could Aang say?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aang leaned back slightly, started by the sudden giggle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s my world.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s when it clicked.

“You lied to them.” I gasped.

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

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

“But it keeps you safe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I sniffled, “I trust you, Aang.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zuko’s mom?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re okay!”

Everything happened so fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was running a fever?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Umm…my apologizes but-uhh-”

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

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

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

But boy was Aang right about people.

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

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

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

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

“Council.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He merely nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The truth was that Zuko was unconscious because of me.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m no Firebender, Ursa.”

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

I can only try.

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

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

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

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

My breathing quickened.

Chest tightening, each breath a struggle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yue-”

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

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

Am I missing something?

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

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

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

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

“You mean lie to the kingdom?”

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

“So, everyone thinks Zuko has a cold.”

“And I brought Katara here as a healer-”

Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. Sokka, you genius.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only three more to go.”

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

Let’s do this.

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

Straight into the lion’s den.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gosh, what a sight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t argue with him, Yue.

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

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

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

How did I not notice that before?

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

The Fire Lord’s seat – Zuko’s throne.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you, Zuko.

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

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

“And why’s that?” I huffed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why would you do that-

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

I swallowed, nodding as I studied the paperwork.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But I’m not okay with this.

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

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

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

“You are wasting time.” The man grumbled, and I heaved a sigh. “Maybe so, but regardless if Fire Lord Zuko approved of this beforehand, I need time to review this information.”

“You may be Imperial Consort, but you will never earn the respect of a Queen – you are nothing more but a Waterbender playing dress-up.”

An eerie silence overcame us, and for the tenth time today; I could feel my heart shatter because he was right.

I don’t deserve to be Queen, nor Zuko’s partner.

Nothing was going right.

It was as if the spirits decided that today wasn’t going wrong enough – let’s add more to my plate for their sick amusement.

My hands ran through my hair in frustration, not caring in the slightest at the fact that the beautifully placed pins tumbled onto the rug underneath me. A string of curse words that would even have Zuko proud flew from my lips.

Not even Zuko’s level of foul language would match my current state of self-destruction.

The black ink pooled on the tabletop, some dripping on the red of my dress, like droplets of black blood. “Gosh, just my luck.” I fumed to myself, on the verge of just throwing every single bloody document on this table out the window. How does Zuko do this every day?

Seeing the piles upon piles of paperwork that littered the floor, the words mashing together like a giant blob. My mind was spinning, face rosy from the stress and this fever that refused to back off for a second.

I blew loudly, brushing my hair behind my ears before leaning over the study. My arm outstretched, fingers stretching to grasp the bundle of napkins placed off to the side.

Utterly lost in my thoughts, I failed to take into account the vial of ink I had placed right in front of me, the draping of my sleeves knocking it over.

My eyes widen, shoulders slumping in utter despair at the clacking sound of the glass vial hitting the wooden table, yet again – spilling the remaining ink.

“Are you KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW!?” I cried, pulling back hastily, my long-sleeves dragging the ink with it. My voice cracked slightly, raising my tone as high as I did, not expressing such defeat in spirits knows how long.

I watched helplessly as the ink settled into the natural indents of the wood, thankfully nowhere near the documents from the meeting this morning. And at that exact moment, a knock caught my attention, and I swallowed.

Who could it possibly be now- Shutting my eyes before taking a deep breath, I bite my lip anxiously. Calm down, Yue. Count to ten.

One…two…

five…seven…

nine…ten.

“Yes?” I squealed, trying desperately to mask my frustration. The poor soul, on the other end of the door, didn’t need to experience my wrath when they did nothing wrong. I’m just an absolute idiot, that’s the problem.

The study door jarred slightly at the sound of my voice, and to my shock, a guard popped his head in, free of his helmet. His long wavy hair swayed side to side as he bent over from his waist, up, a worried look on his face.

“Is everything alright, Imperial Consort-oh, did you spill the ink, again?” He mused, a silly smile popping on the guard’s face almost instantly.

My face flushed, “…Maybe.”

The guard didn’t even have to step back outside. He lifted his arm from behind his back, a perfectly folded set of napkins in his grasp. “Fire Lord Zuko always asks me to keep some on hand; he says his Consort is a bit of clutz.” He chuckled, leaving me stunned.

My mouth opened, ready to protest, but the current flood on the desk, my lap and sleeve filthy had me thinking twice.

Why do you always have to be right, Zuko?

“I’m sorry for causing so much trouble,” I whined, my shoulders dropping in fatigue as my hand fell over my face. I rubbed my eyes, fighting back the tears of frustration, before exhaling.

It was embarrassing.

Here I am, pretending to act like I have the slightest idea as to what I was doing.

Acting as if I was totally fit for this role, which I wasn’t.

The guard let himself in, kicking the door shut behind him with his heel. He walked forward with ease, his boots clicking louder the closer he got. The guard seemed at complete ease as if he has walked inside this room countless times over the years to help clean up ink spills.

“Don’t be sorry, Imperial Consort. Everyone has those days, even Fire Lord Zuko.”

I perked up at the mention of Zuko, the guard starting to section out the napkins to clean up the mess. “Fire Lord Zuko wouldn’t spill his ink two times in a row, in less than an hour time,” I mumbled under my breath, and the guard snorted at my statement.

“Permission to speak freely?” The guard requested, and I tilted my head in surprise, nodding.

“Please, do not tell him I told you this, but Fire Lord Zuko used to go through six vials a day after his coronation because he kept knocking it over. Six times a day, I would go to the supply room, and bring them to him. I learned after day two to just keep them on me at all times.”

I laughed under my breath at the story, the guard laughing with me, his armour rumbling with joy recalling those times. He outstretched some napkins towards me, which I grabbed with a smile, the tension in my body easing.

I could already picture it. Zuko getting all flustered, just like me, trying to clean up his mess just to do the whole process all over again. Six times exact.

“Thank you…I needed to hear that.” I hummed, letting a towel soak up some of the ink I had just spilled. The guard nodded his head, shooting me a smile, “No problem, you know, Fire Lord Zuko would be proud of how much work you got done. It must be nice for him to know he can take a day off when he’s sick because he has you to trust.”

I froze, looking at the pile the guard was referring to.

A few papers were completed, my signature at the bottom of each document with the Fire Nation seal beside. But the papers weren’t anything grand in nature – simple stuff. Stuff I used to do all the time back at the Southern Water Tribe.

The only difference was over here, there was a lot of more pointless rules and ‘expectations,’ down to the way you cross your t’s and dot your I’s.

“I highly doubt that…Zuko would’ve finished all this way before lunchtime, and I’m not even close.” I huffed, and the guard shook his head. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Imperial Consort. He talks about you all the time to me. Says he trust you with his life.”

“He does?” I shyly questioned, accidentally dropping the napkin into a small puddle of ink, causing little droplets to fly over us. I apologized under my breath, but the guard looked entertained, not bothered in the slightest that black ink now stained his uniform.

“Of course, in fact…I am a little guilty of taking advantage of it. Whenever he is in a sour mood, I point at you through the window, and he’s back to it.”

I coloured, recalling Zuko admitting to me he sometimes catches my morning walks with Ursa and Kiyi in the gardens. But if he can see my morning walks, that means he also sees all the times I play with Kiyi out in the gardens, or when I read books to her beneath the cherry blossom trees. Yet he still asks me what I did during the day, listening as I rambled on and on…

“Imperial Consort, do you wish for me to put these documents away in the reject folder?” The guard interjected, cutting my thoughts in half.

My eyes narrowed, staring at the paperwork in question. I found myself jumbled. “The-the reject pile?” I repeated, making sure of the words the guards just spoke. He nodded his head, and I found myself stunned, “These papers were from this morning meeting, I need them still.” I spoke, and I noticed the way the guards face twisted in confusion, a look matching mine.

He opened his mouth, almost afraid to talk, and I stopped wiping the table eagerly, more interested in the thoughts running through his mind

“You may speak, don’t hold your tongue around me. I don’t bite.” I insisted, and the guard’s shoulders visibly eased, scratching his chin like Sokka or Aang.

“It’s just that…I don’t see why you have these papers or how you got these. These are all rejected proposals; Fire Lord Zuko just keeps them for reference.”

Rejects-

“So, what you are saying is these papers, this funding – was never approved?” I gasped, running around the study to the guards’ side.

The guard’s eyes widen in surprise, a pink blush coating his cheeks. Undoubtedly, taken aback by the way my hands fell over his arms. I didn’t even notice I did such an action, so caught up in the moment, it was a reflex.

“N-no, Fire Lord Zuko would never approve of these figures. Taking money from smaller villages, he didn’t spend years fighting with the council to change those policies, just to go back on his promises.”

That man- he set me up.

“He-he tricked me. He wanted me to sign those papers.” I whispered under my breath, falling against the study in a state of shock.

Zuko’s signature on these papers wasn’t for approvals, but his mark of denial.

I knew Zuko would never approve of this, but the council didn’t think I knew Zuko well enough to know that. They think all I am to Zuko is a royal bedwarmer, that I don't know anything about him – the very thing Mai accused me of.

“Imperial Consort, did I say something wrong?” the guard worried, his hands hovering over my body, unsure whether to support my resting figure. The poor guy thinks I almost passed out or something from this never-ending fever.

I laughed under my breath, a wave of relief washing over me, “How can I be mad at someone who just saved me!” I enthused, and the guard looked more confused than ever. He looked around the room, scratching his chin as a low string of ‘uh’ and ‘oh’ left him.

“I didn’t know you needed saving…I just offered to put away these documents.” The guard awkwardly said, and I rolled my eyes.

“You don’t get it, this morning, a few members of the council wanted me to increase the funding for certain cities – and they fed me these papers. They tried to convince me that Zuko said okay to this in the past!”

It was like someone lit a candle in the guard’s head, his eyes widening before he swore under his breath. “I can’t believe it- for years those greedy councilmembers tried to steal money. I’ve heard Fire Lord Zuko complain about this for months. They have this weird philosophy about the survival of the fittest – oppressing the weak and living off their ill-being.” The guard spat, huffing to himself in disgust.

“They planted false papers to get their way, tried to take advantage of you. I can’t believe it- no wonder Ming told me to keep an eye out for you.”

“Ming?” I repeated— the older woman from this morning and the meeting, the one with a warm smile. The guard nodded, walking back and forth in the office.

“Yes, she told me this morning to keep an eye out. That she doesn’t trust some of the councilmembers. She can’t come here herself to help you – it’ll look suspicious on her end. I’ve known her for years; she’s a good woman. She spoke with Fire Lord Zuko a few days ago before he caught this cold, offered her help as well.”

The warmth that enveloped in my heart, my hands falling over my chest in bliss.

I knew it-

I knew Zuko would never do such a thing. He may be a tough cookie, but he was still sweet, and his heart was in the right place. He didn’t spend every waking second in his life to turn against his Nation – his work was his source of pride and honour.

“I don’t know how they got these papers, Imperial Consort, but you can’t approve of this funding. It goes against Fire Lord Zuko’s whole goal.” The guard pleaded, and I smiled, clasping my hands with his. “Don’t you worry, I never was going to approve of it. But knowing that I was right all along makes things a lot easier for me. Thank you for everything.” I gushed, and the guard nodded, before stifling in a laugh.

“We still have a mess to clean.”

“Gosh, I forgot about that…” I muttered under my breath, but a smile still sat on my face.

A victory.

Even if small, it was still a win in my books.

For the first time today, I felt like I could breathe. Actually, enjoy the fresh air that came from the window and appreciate the sun that danced along my skin. I was no longer in a weird trance, entirely out of touch with the world around me.

“I’ll be back; we let the ink settle into the wood. I think we need some heavy-duty cleaning stuff to help us.” The guard chuckled, and I bashfully nodded, realizing just how grand of a mess I made.

I let my fingers dab and soak up the excess ink with whatever clean towels were left, the guard letting his used rags rest on the table. His suit jiggled as he lightly jogged towards the office door. He swung it open, but just as he stepped through the doorframe, I noticed the way he jumped back slightly, bowing deeply.

I pouted, opening my mouth to speak up, but a rush a blue and green caught my eyes.

“Yue!” The voices cried into my ears, their arms wrapping around my body, squeezing me between them. It took a few seconds to process the embrace, but more importantly, who it was.

“S-Suki, Katara?” I gasped out in surprise, struggling to breathe between their hug.

Katara pulled back, running her hands down my face with a large frown. “Ursa was right; you’re heating up. Aang, you should’ve dragged her to me!” She nagged, and right away, a voice of protest popped up from behind her. “I wanted to, but she insisted on working.”

“Just as stubborn as Zuko.” I heard Toph grumble under her breath, although I failed to spot her, Katara and Suki taking up much of my view.

“How are you feeling, Yue? You look like shit, no offence.” Suki proclaimed, poking my nose good-humouredly. Even though she wore her thick makeup, I spotted the way her eyes lit up, wrinkles forming around her eyes. That’s right, Aang lied to them. None of them have a single clue as to what I did.

I swallowed hard, looking back and forth around the room, seeing Sokka and Aang sneak into the room. The door shut behind them, and while they talked and asked questions about my well-being, I couldn’t help but focus on their appearance.

They all looked drained as if they were put through the wringer. But the look on Katara’s and Sokka’s face took the cake. I hadn’t seen any of them all day, only Katara in the morning when she rushed to Zuko’s side. Dark circles painted their tanned skin, their bright blue eyes not shining as bright as usual.

I frowned, raising my hand to cup Katara’s face.

She must have been healing this whole time, trying to help Zuko. If only I could be as great of a healer as Katara- “You look tired, Katara. Are you resting?” I whispered, and she scoffed.

Her hand gripped mine, pushing it away as she once again pressed the back of her palm against my forehead. “I’m fine, Yue, we’re all fine. But you, not so much. Have you eaten lunch today?” I flushed under her gaze, shaking my head with a silent ‘no.’

Sokka kissed his teeth, noticing he wandered from behind me, resting his hands on my shoulders. His touch had me wobbling, the weight of his hands on my shoulders feeling heavy. I felt weak – and I realized I was still leaning against the study as a form of support.

“Princess, you look ill. We can talk later; I think you need to call it quits for today.”

“Talk to me about what?” I asked, facing Sokka, Katara’s hand dropping from my face. He sighed, looking at the others for approval of some sort. “Sokka, let’s not do this now...” Katara warned, but Toph’s unamused tone triumphed them.

“It’s about Zuko, Princess.”

Katara twisted on her heel – anger flashing in her eyes at Toph’s nonchalant talking, but she wasn’t fazed at all. Toph’s blindness proved to work in her favour, already lounging on the office floor, resting her head on her palm, elbow on her knee.

My heart started pounding, seeing the dark looks on everyone’s faces, “Is Zuko going to be okay? Aang told me he was going to be okay-” I panicked, and Suki quickly wrapped her arms around my shaking body, hushing into my ear.

“Hey, he’s going to be just fine. It’s nothing bad, we promise.”

A deep exhale left me, my eyes fluttering shut as I fell against Suki. “I just want him to be okay. That’s it.” I whimpered into her arms, and I felt Sokka rest his hand on my head, petting my hair. “Don’t worry, Princess, we got this. We just wanted to bring you up to speed.”

“Did you learn anything new?” I questioned, pulling back from Suki’s embrace slightly. She still held me close to her frame, and Katara nodded. “Yue…did you know that Firebenders are resistant to poison?”

My eyes narrowed, unable to form words. Resistant to poisons? How is that possible? “I-I had no clue-”

“Me neither, I learned that today with the nurses. But that’s the thing, why try to kill the Fire Lord with poison, the very thing that Firebenders are immune? Sounds counter-intuitive, don’t you think?” I stared, trying to under what they were trying to get at.

I saw the way Zuko struggled to breathe; he didn’t resist the poison at all. He was dying; I felt him slipping from right beneath my fingers. “I don’t get your point….”

“Whoever did this was trying to target you, Princess,” Sokka said, and I faced him. “We know that already, Sokka. The tea was meant for me. But what does that have to do with Firebenders and poison? Zuko didn’t look like he was resisting the poison at all. He was gasping and struggling and-”

Suki gripped my hands, noticing I was shaking, just picturing Zuko again. The mental image of Zuko in pain forever etched into my mind.

“Exactly, Yue. Zuko wasn’t resisting the poison at first, and that got me curious.” Katara budded in, turning to face Aang. He walked forward, searching into his robe, before pulling out a tiny red pouch.

“How is it possible, that Zuko, a powerful Firebender, almost died from poison, when Firebenders are supposedly resistant?” Katara spoke, taking the bag and tugging the strings. The contents of the pack fell into her palm, grounded bits of herbs, scattering her palm.

I remember those herbs-

“That was what was in the tea…” I gasped, and Katara nodded.

“Zuko’s mom is a master botanist, a fact not too well-known in the kingdom. We asked her to look at these herbs and tell us what it was. And you know what she told us, Yue?” Aang spoke, and I shook my head.

I loved plants, always wanted to be florist back when I lived in Earth Nation. Have my little flower garden with a family. But I lacked the resources to learn the technicalities of the field, let alone botany. “I-I don’t know…”

“Ursa said the same thing.” Aang started, poking at the herbs with his pointer finger. “This – isn’t something we know. Someone created this herb, Ursa said it’s called cross-pollination. It’s an advanced technique; not even Ursa is comfortable with it anymore. But whoever did this, did so with the sole purpose of creating a poison so potent that it could kill a person in seconds, or disable a Firebender.”

“Someone wanted you to die, Princess, and if given a chance, kill Zuko too. A two for one combo.” Toph snorted, blowing upwards and causing her bangs to fly upwards.

Katara dumped the contents inside the pouch again, passing it back to Aang. “You were their main target, Zuko was just an after-thought.”

“So, what you’re trying to tell me is the person in question is a botanist?”

“It seems so, but when we interviewed the gardeners and florists, everyone came back clean. They don’t fit the bill.” Sokka exclaimed, “Suki and I went through every registered gardener and florist assigned to the kingdom, everyone had an alibi.”

“Does this…does this have something to do with Yakone and Azula?” I whispered. Everyone’s looks darkened, Aang meeting my gaze. “We don’t know for certain...we don’t even know what their goal is besides destroying the United Nations. But if that was the case, wouldn’t it be easier to attack me?”

Katara visibly tensed, looking back at Aang with a frown, “Don’t say that…”

“But it’s true; their motives are unclear and-”

“Sokka.” I budded, cutting off Aang. Everyone perked up at my voice, stepping forward as I paced back and forth. “You said you checked every gardener and florist registered with the kingdom, right,” I questioned, looking straight at Sokka.

He nodded, watching how I stomped up and down the room. Katara sighed trying to reach forward, “Yue, you need to sit down, you look like you’re going to pass out-”

“What about Mai?” I blurted.

The looks on everyone’s faces dropped.

I stopped pacing, a hand falling over my head the more and more I thought about it. “Mai’s sister, owns a flower shop, right? Zuko said she works for her sister, not for the kingdom. She isn’t a botanist, but she could’ve easily tricked her sister into creating something this deadly.”

“Yue. I know Mai is Zuko’s ex-girlfriend, and you already think she’s guilty beforehand-” Sokka spoke, and my face turned red.

“I’m not accusing her of something because she’s Zuko’s ex, Sokka! I’m saying it because we know she’s the snitch, and if we know she’s working with Azula, why would she be innocent of this?”

Aang took a deep breath, shaking his head as he took a step back. The room was growing in tension, and I didn’t even notice the way Toph stood. “Princess is right. You guys let your personal feelings get in the way – yet again. She’s a prime suspect first, before a friend. She has all the tools, easy access in and out of the kingdom. She would’ve known that Princess gave Kima and Lia the morning off.”

My face twisted to confusion, stepping forward, “Give Kima and Lia the morning off?” I repeated, and this time they all gazed at me like I was crazy. “I was told that Kima and Lia took the day off because something came up.” I blurted.

“No…we have paperwork saying you gave them the morning off. You sent a guard with a note; we just asked Kima and Lia a few minutes ago when they arrived-”

“Imperial Consort Ying Yue did not send me to deliver such a letter.” A voice spoke up, causing us all to jump.

The guard who was helping me from before was holding some cleaning supplies, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed deeply. “S-sorry for interrupting, but Imperial Consort Ying Yue did not request me to send the letter.”

“You sent the letter?” I asked, and the guard nodded.

“Yes, last night, before they left. Countess Mai asked me to deliver that letter to your maids in your place.” His cheeks flushed slightly, uncomfortable by the number of stares he was receiving, but he maintained eye contact with myself.

“I-I knew about the rumours about you and Countess Mai, b-budding heads, so I was surprised. But she said you two had some afternoon tea and worked your differences. That she will be your aid, as a symbol of goodwill. I’m sorry, what is this all about-”

“Goodwill, my fucking ass.” I snarled, and just like that, I bolted.

“Yue~!” Aang shouted, “Where are you going!?”

“Nobody hurts Zuko and gets away with it.”

I ignored their cries, shoving past the guard, the cleaning supplies spilling onto the ground. My hand gripped the door handle, swinging the door wide.

Red, all I saw was red.

My hands turned into fists, not caring about the stares I was receiving from the guards and servants. My hair was a mess, dress dirty from the ink stains from earlier today. I wasn’t even wearing my heels anymore, opting for a more comfortable footwear the moment I went into the study – proving useful at the moment.

The gang’s voices seemed distant, as I ran down the red-coloured hallways. The sun was starting to set, blood pumping loudly in my ears.

Mai.

How I tried to be friends with you.

How I tried to think well of you despite all the trash you spoke about me.

You can hurt me as much as you like, but don’t you dare hurt the people I love.

I turned the corner, noticing that the rooms of the kingdom were changing. The artwork was less grand, the doors no longer as tall – I’m in the noble’s quarters. A few people dressed in regal clothing stared at me, eyes narrowing in confusion as they saw the way I scanned the area like a madwoman.

“Is there something you need, Imperial Consort Ying Yue?” a woman asked prudently, her eyes judging my appearance.

I glared, stepping forward, “Where is Countess Mai.” I hissed.

Her eyes widened, the people around her looking panicked, hearing my manic tone. She took a step back, her body trembling with fear as she watched the way my fingers twitched with anger. “I-I’ll call for her, um- MAI!”

A scene started to unfold, more and more people leaving the comforts of their quarters to look at the commotion happening outside. But it was that sound. That bored, mono-toned voice that had chills running up my spine

“What do you want?” Mai hissed, turning the corner of the hallway, a look of displeasure written on her face. Her cat-like eyes met mine, her figure stilling, and I forced a smile.

“Your nose healed nicely.” I spat, and without a moment to spare, she ran.

My knees bent, chasing at full speed.

The way Mai moved with ease, turning the corner she just came from as I hastily struggled to catch up. The long gown I wore kept slowing me down, the guards reaching out for me hearing my heavy footsteps.

“Imperial Consort, what are you doing-”

“Give me this,” I shouted, grabbing the dagger attached to their hips as I ran past them.

They couldn’t react fast enough, slipping through them like water in a desperate effort to not lose track of Mai. She knew the kingdom better than me, and she was taking full advantage of it.

Her light-weight but fitted clothing gave her an edge, looking over her shoulder with a glare as she saw I was on her tail. Mai wasn’t stupid; she was a trained fighter – her lean physique and quick steps were the proof.

I reached down hurriedly, yanking a large chunk of my dress in my hands, slicing the extra material off. The sound of expensive fabric being ripped to shreds would’ve had the royals crying. But the dead fabric dropping from my hands had me sighing in relief.

My legs felt free, no longer under the tight constraints, or weighted down. Now I can fight. My pace quickened, pushing myself off the wall as she turned another sharp corner.

“Give up; already, you think you can catch me?” Mai snarled, and my eyes widened. Her hands snuck up her sleeves for a brief moment, before flicking her wrist towards me.

I gasped, the glistening look of the setting sun reflecting off metal had me darting to the side. I twisted my body and bumped ungracefully against the hallway wall. The feeling of a sharp piece of metal cutting my cheek had me flinching, noticing that Mai stood still for a moment with a broad grin.

“You don’t know how good that felt.”

“You poisoned the tea, didn’t you?” I shouted. Mai shrugged her shoulders, “I didn’t do anything. I just gave the tools necessary. That’s all.”

“You almost killed Zuko.”

Her eyes narrowed at my words, snickering under her breath, “If he died, it would’ve been your fault. I told you the moment you came here. You made a mistake.” She turned on her heel, picking up the pace, and I huffed.

I flung myself forward, disregarding the pain that radiated up my body. I can’t go on for much longer; I’m too weak from this morning. But I have to do this- A large red door was at the end of the hallway, and I spotted the way Mai’s hand stretched forward.

Oh no, you don’t- I twirled the small dagger in my hand, and with a grunt, rocked my arm forward.

Mai’s fingers grazed the knob before the sound of metal slicing through wood had her swearing. Pieces of timber sparked, splinters flying in the air at the sheer impact of the dagger piercing the exit. Mai flinched, realizing what I had done – the door was jammed.

“Fuck,” Mai swore under her breath, before jumping on her toes, the look of absolute anger evident. She looked to her side, and with an irritated grunt, dashed towards the only hallway available.

It’s a dead-end, she’s going to have nowhere to go.

My pace slowed, almost running into the blocked door, praying that no one was on the other side, because they were going to be stuck in there for a bit. I looked towards the hallway Mai ran down, half expecting her to be throwing a temper tantrum, realizing she has nowhere to go, another part anticipating her to put up a fight.

But to my absolute horror and confusion - Mai was still running at full speed. My mouth dropped, face paling. It’s a dead-end besides a window, we’re on the second floor; she couldn’t possibly be thinking-

The sound of glass shattering had people screaming in their rooms.

It bounced off the wooden floors, tiny pieces flying in the hallway – some even cutting the paintings that hung nearby. The small shards created streams of rainbows throughout the corridor- as I watched in utter awe.

Mai’s crazy.

And if Mai weren’t the reason that Zuko was currently in the nurses' station, unconscious, I would’ve saluted her. A part of me had to scoff at the idea of Zuko and her in a relationship. No wonder they didn’t work out – you had two ruthless, stubborn warriors, neither of them willing to submit or show weakness no matter what.

‘Too many cooks in the kitchen’ – wise words Iroh.

I groaned under my breath, forcing my legs to trek forward, flinching as my feet were still sore from the small cuts I received from early in the day. My hands reached out, leaning out the window, the smell of fresh air filling my nostrils.

Where the fuck could she have gone?

My eyes desperately scanned the area, the waterfall that Toph just fixed in full view. Glass littered the grass below, servants causing a ruckus about the mess, but I pushed back the random shrieks of shock because I couldn’t find the very thing I wanted.

Where is she? I turned my head to the side, only to have my body lax for a moment, a sarcastic laugh leaving my lips.

This sneaky bitch.

Mai smirked, realizing that I spotted her, running along the roof before sliding her way down to the garden below. The red shingles on the rooftop shook and dislodged with every step she took, despite her light actions, landing onto the soft grass with ease.

I looked at the distance between me and the roof. I don’t have the momentum; I won’t make the jump. But…I do have this-

Taking a deep breath, I raised my hands, feeling the movement of the water from the waterfall.

The servants quickly adverted their attention from the glass to the low rumbling coming from the waterfall, realizing that the waterfall was no long sprouting water – but coming at full speed towards me. They moved to the side in fear, and I found myself stepping off the window sill, flinging myself over the edge.

The feeling of weightlessness hit me, still very much swinging my arms above my head in a frantic effort for the water to come to me. Black spots started filling my vision at a higher intensity than ever before, a cold numbness overcoming my senses as my body begged for rest – even for a second.

I’m using too much chi, but I don’t have much choice at the moment.

My gestures became more agitated, and right before I hit the ground, my body was immersed by water. Shielding me from the fall, I tightened my hands into fists, the water around me conforming around my body as a thin sheet of ice, rolling along the grass.

Mai’s eyes widened in astonishment, seeing me jump back to my feet, before making a mad break through the unmarked zone of the gardens. That zone was supposed to be blocked entirely - Zuko saying it was still under renovation at the moment, a summer project of his.

I swallowed deeply, taking note of how substantial my breathing has gotten. No matter how profound I inhaled, I could feel my lungs screaming for air. I need a breather; I can’t go on for much longer. Hot sweat layered over my skin, body clammy from over-exhaustion, the beating sun not making matters any better. But I need to catch her – I can’t stop now.

With a deep gulp, I willed myself to push forward through the greenery in search of Mai.

The sound of grass crunching under our feet, our hands hysterically pushing the overgrown tree branches and bushes to the side as we struggled to see in front of us. The area was dark, the sunlight barely making it past the greenery, the air crisp.

“Stop running, Mai!” I shouted in a pathetic attempt to stop this mad chase. Just maybe, maybe, she would listen. Spots started to fill my vision once again, the gaps between what was in front of me and the dark spots making it difficult to focus. I bit my lip as a means to center myself.

I’m running out of time-

My arm raised in front of me, the sound of metal lodging itself into my ice, stopping dead in my tracks. Ice shreds flattered off my arm at the impact, and I let out a sigh of relief, realizing I got her weapon in time. Her daggers can’t pierce my ice-

I gasped out in pain, her long fingers yanking my hair from the side and jerking me towards her. It all happened so fast, not even realizing that she was already beside me in seconds, my hair in her grip.

She pivoted on her heel, using all her force to raise her knee straight into my stomach. My eyes widened, ice melting temporarily at the sheer disbelief of the attack. The pain was unbelievable, a dry heave escaping me as I cried.

The way Mai moved – it reminds me of Azula so much. And if that’s the case-

I shrieked in agony as the grip on my locks didn’t loosen, feeling each strand pulling from my scalp, using it as a leash to pull me back towards her for another attack. My feet stumbled forward as I doubled over in pain, watching as she rose her free hand into the air with a dagger in hand.

“This is your fault.” Mai hissed, and at that moment, I dug my shoulder into her stomach.

I grabbed her hips with a low grunt, lifting her off her feet and throwing onto the ground. The hold on my hair loosened, the dagger Mai held in her hand, falling onto the grass beside us.

Her head hit the dirt, with a loud thud, and I swirled my hands around me, sitting on her waist as I pinned her wrists. The water slithered onto her skin, freezing over her hands and solidifying itself with the dirt. Her eyes widen, trying to kick upwards, but the water caught her feet, forcing her back to the ground.

“I caught you.” I panted in pain, sweat dripping off my forehead as a cold shiver ran up my body.

My body was shaking, losing focus rapidly as I forced myself to continue bending. The need to have Mai pinned underneath me, unable to move an inch, was the only motivation keeping me alive.

Mai’s face twisted in anger, struggling against her bonds, “You’re a fucking fool.”

“Says the one who almost killed her ex-boyfriend after proclaiming that you love him.” I breathlessly criticized, causing her to roll those dark eyes.

“You don’t get it, do you? The only reason Zuko almost died was because of you.” I narrowed my eyes at her words. Let it go, Yue, don’t entertain her.

But-

“What does that mean, Mai.”

“It means if you want Zuko to be happy, to be safe, you’ll pack up your things and leave.”

“You just want me out of the picture.”

“Think whatever you want to. All this started the moment you arrived here. Zuko’s life wasn’t in danger until you showed up.”

I froze at her words, and Mai laughed bitterly, seeing the expression on my face. Because despite all the bullshit she put me through, she was right. Zuko was safe before I entered the picture – everything seemingly ties back to me somehow.

Could she-could Mai be telling me the truth?

“Think about it. All this drama happened because of you. Everything ties back to you being a Bloodbender.” She spat.

My eyes widened, fingers digging into her skin under the cast of ice wrapped around her joints. But she didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed by the pain.

“You know nothing, Mai.” I heaved, struggling to keep myself up at this point. My body was screaming in pain, my eyes shutting close as I tried to keep awake. “But I do. That poison, the only way to save him would be through Bloodbending. Aren��t you the tiniest bit curious who Yakone is? Why he’s so interested in you – why he reminds you of your precious Mom?”

“Shut up.” I cracked, fighting back the tears of frustration. Don’t let her get to you, Yue. She’s trying to mess you up, keep it together. A few more seconds before the gang finds you-

“Admit it. It all comes down to you. If anyone gets hurt, it’s all your fault.”

“N-no, I would never hurt the people I love-” I gulped.

“But you already did. You almost killed Zuko- he would never love you.”

“Zuko loves me-”

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

The sound of crackling made my eyes open wide and head twist to the side.

A blue flash caught my attention, energy sizzling and buzzing loudly through the empty garden space. I saw the movement of fingers through the low-rise tree branches, amber eyes staring back at me. Shit-

I melted the ice instantly, much to my relief, jumping off Mai as I dodged for cover. The wicked sound of electricity cutting through the air, hitting the trees behind me, setting them ablaze. The heat that emitted from the foliage was intense, my skin feeling sunburned even through my dress.

“A-Azula.” I gasped in pain, unable to get off the ground.

Mai effortlessly rolled her body, skipping back onto her feet as she breezed towards Azula. “I’m wet.” She grumbled under her breath, waving her long sleeves to emphasize her point. Azula snorted, at her friends' gesture, flicking her long black hair behind her shoulder.

“You’re lucky I came to save you. It seemed that this wrench overpowered you.”

“She got lucky,” Mai groused back, kicking her feet into the dirt in front of her. Her dagger flew into the air, her hand reaching forward and snapping it up effortlessly. “Well, might as well leave then. No point causing any more of a scene than we already have.”

Mai nodded at Azula’s words.

I tried to stand up, forcing my feet to move, but my body refused to listen. I can’t let them leave; I need to stop them.

“Wait-” I whimpered under my breath, trying to reach out. My hands dug into the dirt, driving myself to stand on my feet once again, but my knees buckled, crashing back onto the ground. Azula didn’t bat an eye to my cry, ignoring my weak protest as she twisted on her heel and blended in with her surroundings.

But I saw the way Mai stilled for a second.

She gazed over her shoulder with a look that had me holding my breath. For the first time since I met her, she let down her tough exterior, her eyes no longer containing that spark of feistiness. All that was left was a look of sadness, hurt…and pain.

So much pain.

I tilted my head to the side, unable to utter a word seeing the expression on her face – and as if Mai realized that she revealing too much of herself to me, a scowl painted her pretty face.

“Remember, Yue,” Mai whispered breathlessly. “If you really love Zuko – want the best for him. You know what to do.”

She whipped her gaze away from mine, sprinting off into the greenery around us – and there I sat – forced to bask in Mai’s words in a pile of mud.

Sitting alone, with nothing but the sounds of trees rustling, birds chirping, flames crackling I found my eyes fluttering shut. An endless pit of loneliness emerging from deep within.

My fingers dug into the filth as I cried because I knew what I have to do.

“Does my baby want some attention?”

“Maybe…” I giggled, smiling naughtily as I let my hands play with the ends of Zuko’s hair. My legs were wrapped perfectly around Zuko’s waist, currently straddling him as he rested on the couch in our bedroom – in his reading corner.

I could hear the book he was reading shut with a soft thud from behind me, tossing the novel onto the coffee table with all the other stories I stocked. Stories I knew Zuko would love to read during his spare time.

Feeling his warm hands caress my hips, running up my back before finally falling on my jaw had my skin tingling. Butterflies in my stomach as I enjoyed his tender touches. The whole time Zuko bore a soft smile, his eyes in a dreamy daze as he studied my figure up and down.

“You’re beautiful, you know that…” he mumbled under his breath, and I blushed at his words.

He continued letting his fingers roam, thumb brushing my lips, rubbing my cheeks, and I couldn’t help but purr like a kitten. How I loved this. Zuko always took his time, never rushing, each touch, each caress, done with a particular intent.

I didn’t even notice my eyes had fluttered shut until I heard Zuko’s deep chuckle once again, cheeks turning a dark hue of red. “S-sorry.” I blurted, realizing I was practically leaned into Zuko, our noses touching. But Zuko merely grinned, shaking his head, “You're needy.”

“Just one kiss?” I pouted, and I saw the way Zuko rolled his eyes – trying his hardest to seem indifferent to the idea. But I still saw the way he licked his lips in delight, his eyes settling over my own.

“What if I want two kisses, love?” Zuko teased, and I smiled, “Then I’ll give you three.”

“And if I want four?”

“Then you’ll get five.”

“How about…a hundred kisses?”

“Then you’ll get a hundred and one kisses.” I smugly retorted, and Zuko laughed.

His chest rumbled underneath me, eyes squinting in delight at my silliness. His laugh was contagious, unable to stop my giggles from tumbling, our cheerfulness mixing.

I’m so happy-

“Yue, let me put a bandage on your cheek. It should heal within a day or two.” Katara hummed softly, leaning over my figure with outstretched fingers – pulling me out of my fantasy.

Her touch was gentle, the stickiness of the bandage causing a slight itch on my skin where it stuck, reminding me of the dressing I had to wear on my jaw for a bit. “Thank you…” I muttered out tiredly, running a hand through my chaotic hair.

I could hear the ruckus happening outside in the gardens through the opened window, already imagining everyone turning over every single pebble in that garden for any traces or clues. ‘Mai had all her shit packed, she was going to leave tonight,’ Sokka said before leaving Zuko’s study to help the others.

A tired groan left my lips, rolling my head side to side to ease the tension in my shoulders. My eyes struggled to stay open, wanting nothing more but to slide into my warm bed, Zuko hugging me from behind-

“Hey, did you ever find out what the Earth King wrote that was so important for Zuko to read?” Katara asked, catching my attention.

My tired eyes opened a bit more, trying to appear alert as I saw the olive-green document in Katara’s hands. I shook my head, leaning over to take the neatly pre-opened envelope from her touch. Zuko never finished reading this letter; he decided to take me out for dinner instead.

“I figured you would’ve read it; it seemed urgent,” Katara added.

“You’re right; I should probably give it a read…” I whispered, letting the paper fall on my lap as I propped against the desk. A silence fell over us, both us trying to wrap our heads around what was happening.

Mai set up the whole thing, and I saw the way the news hurt the team.

They all looked wounded, their greatest fears coming alive. They knew Mai was the snitch, but seeing her running away, actually admitting guilt, was rubbing salt in the wound at this point. Why would you do this, Mai?

Everyone says this is unlike you, yet here you are, doing exactly what you wouldn’t ever do.

“Um, do you want to visit Zuko?” Katara said again, almost rushed, trying to fill the void with some sound. My body stiffened at the mention of Zuko, looking up at Katara like a lost child.

“I-I-”

“You haven’t seen him all day. I know it must be hard for you.”

“I-It’s fine; I’ll-I’ll visit him tomorrow.” I blurted, shaking my head as I pushed myself off the table. I let my fingers play with the edges of the envelope in my hands, trying to look busy and distract myself from Mai’s haunting words.

Zuko doesn’t love me anymore…

She’s just trying to mess with you, Yue.

But Mai has known Zuko her whole life. She probably knows Zuko better than I will ever. I’m an idiot for thinking that I was actually important-

“You can visit Zuko now, Yue. I know you want to-”

“I’m fine, Katara. I-” I stilled, no longer playing with the green folder in my hands to distract myself from my dark thoughts. Feeling the paper slide between my hands, grazing the Earth Nation wax seal jogged a whole new can of worms into my mind.

My eyes widened, feeling my skin crawl- “Shit, I forgot! I have a meeting!” I gasped.

My gut dropped, letting out a worn-out whine as I ran a hand through my hair.

I looked out the window, noticing that the sun was starting to hide behind the tree-line, the moon ready to make an appearance in due time. But that means it must have started already, and now I’m going to be late, again.

And that grumpy man is going to use that against me and say how useless I am and-

“Yue. You can’t be serious?” Katara exclaimed, watching me bolt upwards and towards the study. I gave a mental thanks to the guard from early in the day, realizing he cleaned the desk despite me leaving the way I did. I need to thank him-

“Ying Yue,” Katara growled, her hand yanking my shoulder back.

I jumped at the aggressive shove, forcing me to face Katara. Her face was warped with fury, watching me as if I had eight heads. “What about Zuko?” Katara breathed, emphasizing each word.

“What about him, Katara?” I snapped, swinging the documents in my hands into the air. “He’s out cold, because of me. Everything that happened today is because of me. Everything. The reason why Zuko almost died, the reason all this drama is happening, the reason why Zuko is drowning with all this council bullshit every day - it all leads back to me!” I cried in frustration.

Katara’s face softened immediately, trying to reach forward to cradle me, but I stepped back. “You’re punishing yourself-” Katara realized, and I swallowed back a sob. “No, I’m doing Zuko a favour. He doesn’t want to see me, Katara. How could he after everything I’ve done?” I cried, pushing the folder tightly to my chest.

Katara shook her head, her own eyes tearing, “Yue, Zuko loves you-”

“Zuko loved me. Just-just drop it; I need to go.”

“Yue, forget about the meeting-”

“I can’t, Katara! It’s the only thing going somewhat right – the only thing I can give to Zuko when he wakes up. The least I could do for him.”

“Yue-” I walked forward, the office door opening wide as I dashed out of the room.

I ignored the cries of Katara behind me, blood rushing in my ears as I stormed down the hallway. The documents in my hands were crumbling under my death grip, furiously wiping the tears on my cheeks.

This is the only thing I could do for Zuko – the only thing I managed to get right.

The guards up ahead, safeguarding the throne room, saw my approaching figure, looks of disbelief etched into their faces. “Imperial Consort – the meeting was set almost an hour ago-”

“Are they still in there, waiting?” I asked, and I saw the way the guard took in my appearance, mud stuck in my hair.

“Y-yes-” they stuttered, and I nodded, “Good.”

Not bothering to wait for the guards to open the door for me, I stormed inside.

The doors swung open, slamming against the walls and catching the attention of the council in seconds. They all stood tall, eyes wide as they took in my appearance. “Oh my- Imperial Consort, are you alright?” A councilmember gulped in shock, and I ignored their inquiry, my eyes meeting that asshole.

His face was stern, kissing his teeth as he studied my figure up and down in disgust. “You’re almost an hour late – and you come in looking like that.” He laughed bitterly; his two stupid minions amused by his joke. The councilmembers all shut their mouths, noticing the annoyance in my posture.

“How about you take a seat, Imperial Consort?” A member politely suggested, and I shook my head, forcing myself to smile at them.

“I’m perfectly fine because I plan on making this meeting short. Increase of funding – denied.”

The man's eyes widen at my statement, crashing his hands on the table. For a moment, I thought he was going to jump over the counter, lunging at my throat. “Bullshit. Why is it denied, you know Fire Lord Zuko approved of the documents previous years, you saw his signature-”

“No. What I saw was three councilmembers manipulating and falsifying classified documents to trick myself, and the council, to believing that Fire Lord Zuko approved of such funding.”

The colour drained from their faces, but more importantly, the grumpy man who started all of this.

His mouth opened and closed, unable to utter a word in response, and the rest of the members looked at them in horror. I raised the papers in the air, tossing them onto the table, seeing the documents glide into messy piles.

“What’s wrong, you thought that because I’m Imperial Consort that I just have to sleep with Fire Lord Zuko, like some glorified concubine? That I don’t have a backbone? A mind of my own?” I spat, and I saw the bead of sweat build on his brow.

“Only a concubine would speak with such vulgar language.” He scowled.

“Maybe so, but it seems to be the only way for your small brain to understand. Which leads me to my next point - you, and your accomplices, will be charged with treason.”

“Y-you have no evidence-” I rolled my eyes, hands falling over my hips, “You sure about that? Because I currently have eight others who can vouch for me. So, let the real joy of this situation come to light.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw smug smiles on everyone's faces, hearing me put these fools in their place. But more importantly, I noticed that warm smile on Ming’s face, a smile filled with pride.

My back straightened, holding the Earth Nation document to my chest, “You were so eager to get rid of me. But you will not lose your roles as councilmembers until Fire Lord Zuko comes in power once again. So rather than waking up tomorrow, eager for Fire Lord Zuko to awake – you’re going to wish he doesn’t. Because as long as I’m in this position, you still have your job – you’re going to want me to be in charge from this point on.”

All the didn’t bother trying to hide their growing grins, watching as three of the most hated members get scolded like school children – stripped of all power and authority.

I raised my head high, clearing my throat, “Now that’s settled, meetings dismissed.”

Turning on my heel, trying to look as confident as I possibly could with twigs in my hair, dress ripped in half and covered in mud and ink, I walked out of that room with my chin up. I could hear chairs being pushed back at my words, my lips tugging upwards.

A few claps could be heard from behind me as I made my way out, and a tired laugh left me. The guards before me amusingly opened the door, sporting prideful grins as the light from the grand hallway flooded my vision.

And the moment I stepped outside, ready to celebrate my victory – tears streamed down my face.

I kept on marching forward, my sobs growing in intensity, eyes blood-shot as my shoulders shook every time I tried to hold back another cry. I couldn’t stop it, the way my legs wobbled, a hand covering my mouth to muffle the small whimpers that left my lips as I ran towards my bedroom.

I hope I made Zuko proud for once.

I hope that when Zuko wakes up, he smiles at me. I want him to hug me, pepper kisses all over my face, saying how well I did.

But no matter what.

Above all things - “I just want to keep you safe, make you happy.” I cried into my hands, “even if its not with me.”

Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters portrayed in this story besides Ying Yue Jiang, Lia, Kima, and any future creations.

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#Zuko #atla #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla Zuko #prince zuko #zuko x oc #limerence #series #masterlist #fire lord zuko #love story #Thanks for reading!

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lideria · 4 years

Text

Wayfaring. | Winter.

➥ characters: genderneutral!reader, mark, johnny, jaehyun, yuta, taeyong, haechan; to be added

➥ genre: apocalyptic!au (apocalypse based on the game “the last of us”), very much angsty, kind of action-y, sad, sometimes fluff

➥ warnings: violent themes, blood&gore (detailed depictions), gun use, mentions of killing/m*rder, mentions of s*icide, depictions of corpses, swearing, zombies ofc, i would like to guess that that’s it but please contact me if there is anything i need to add, and as always English is not my first language so if there are any errors, please excuse me!

➥ word count: 19.3k

➥ summary: every little thing you had, had been built and preserved in the pool of nothingness. and now, you lost it all.

➥ author’s note: !!PLEASE READ!! hoping after all this time that i’ve not posted this doesn’t get taken off the tags. after much thinking i decided to make this big story a series, because i’m pretty positive the overall product will be over 60k words. this is the 1st part and there will be 3 parts. to make it a bit more meaningful, i’ll be releasing the winter part now (in winter for where i live), spring part in mid-spring (possibly around april), and summer in again, around mid-summer. the playlist will also be revealed then. i am hungry for feedback, any and all is much appreciated! also, i’m not over tlou still haha fu- there’s also going to be a taglist since the updates will be so slow, so please drop by my asks if you like it and i’ll gladly add you to the taglist!

➥ taglist: @nct-writers

i hope everyone enjoys this, have a great morning/day/evening/night!

The night was freezing cold.

You walk through the streets of a mix of stone and wooden buildings, lights mostly dim because of the scarce population. Most of the people were at the city square. They were laughing and dancing the night away as groups of people sang for them with the old, occupied instruments that belonged to who-knows-who all those years ago when all of this first started. ‘This’ as in survival of the fittest, as some would say. And from what science could explain, a fungal infection that took over the brain and body that eats away at your tissues until it has completely taken over your motor functions and skin, and can spread its spores to others freely. An infection that could basically ‘zombify’ and fungi-ify people.

That is what everybody who has experienced the outbreak day would tell you, at least.

Being born into it is apparently easier, that is what the older adults tell. Because people have it figured out, there are communities like the one you are in; nobody has to roam around alone and lose so many people in the process. You did not agree to that. Nothing was easier, except for maybe gathering the knowledge of handy survival skills.

Perhaps living in a community was easier, as well. You loved it. You specifically loved your community. The stone and wooden houses, the olden cafés and restaurants, actual electricity that was not a thing outside of the gates, fairy lights hanging across porches and roofs, kids and bicycles around, horses, elderly people. Schools. A whole cinema and market places. People who were hunters, people who were guards, people who were wanderers, people who were recruiters; people who had the luxury of just being parents or students or more. And people, perhaps after seeing the world fire up and fall apart, were filled with love towards each other. Compassion, respect; a lot of things that the outsiders did not have. For the most part, of course. Evil was still a thing even within the community.

You smile at the children hurrying towards the square with a few apples in their hands, laughing and skipping around with joy— one of them waving at you as they pass you by. You wave at them as well, chuckling at one of the boys’ claims on how he will make a run for the sugar in the cafeteria so they can caramelize them.

This is why you love it. Even though it is hard.

Just as snow starts to fall from the sky that was clear with visible stars just moments ago, you take your last turn and make your way to your destination. The light shines from their porch and emphasizes their house as you pick your pace up with your boots that are crunching the asphalt that is too old for its own good, cracked and overgrown with the unkempt vegetation.

And surely enough, he is there. You cannot see him clearly since his silhouette’s too dark with the light hitting from behind, but there is only one person who can be as tall in that household even when they are doubled over.

Not making eye-contact even once as you approach the house, you take big strides through their garden and get on the porch. He does not turn to you and opts to stay silent, still doubled over with his elbows placed on the somewhat high fence. You do the same and let out a huff; a laugh too airy and low to be considered one. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

Johnny smiles, still not meeting your eyes. “I freaked out.”

“Over a kiss?” One more huff. “Sounds nothing like the Johnny I know.”

“Yeah,” He nibbles on his lip a little, and smiles at their neighbor whose kitchen window is just across their porch that is grabbing a glass of water in greetings. “I just don’t like the idea of kissing someone and having it not mean anything anymore. Feel like I’ve passed that stage.”

Your eyes lock on a star in particular when he turns his head to look at you. “Reasonable,” You let out nodding your head. A witty smile creeps up onto your face at that second, and you turn to look at him also. “I guess it comes with growing old.”

That makes him giggle and playfully punch you on the side of your shoulder, prompting you to let out an ow, motherfucker, because he is too strong for his own damn good and he seems to never realize that. “I’m not old.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You brush him off, massaging the side of your shoulder, the smile still on your face. “Tell me though, was the kiss good? It looked good.”

His brows furrow in unfiltered concern. “You watched me kiss?”

“Well if you just adhere onto someone’s lips like they glued you to each other in front of the bar I’m trying to get a drink from, Johnny, I’m kind of obligated to see it for like a second at the least.” He laughs at your ramble and breaks the furrow of his brows. As if he is defeated, he nods at the end a little. “It was amazing.”

“Oh so it’s like that,” You lean into him, hardly containing your giggle. “What does that mean?” He asks back with his own smile still on his face, clearly amused. Your eyebrows furrow this time albeit not seriously. “You damn well know what that means.”

Johnny sighs. Long and deep. Then, he speaks. “I love you, you know. You’re the best annoyer I never would’ve asked for.”

At that you chuckle, letting your shoulders shake with the force of it. “Good thing they didn’t ask you then.”

He does not say anything after that for a while. The two of you stand in silence, you looking at the stars and him looking at the street— or maybe the overgrown plants, you do not know. He fiddles with his calloused hands slightly, and it is only then that you realize that the house is much quieter than how it usually is. His parents must still be at the square, even though you have not seen them at all that day.

That night, to be more honest. During the day it was not really like you could see a lot of the folk.

Johnny must have somehow read your mind, because he speaks up again with only a heavy huff. “I heard about this morning,” His gaze is directed at you again. You break your smile and lean further, letting your head drop lower to the fence as you sigh yourself. One of your hands instinctively go to your face and to the spot where everything aches right on your cheekbone, tracing over the few burn scratches you got when you fell onto the ground. “It was nothing.”

“That wouldn’t have been believable even if I hadn’t known you.” He stands upright then. You see his hands come into your vision before they pick your arms off the fence and force you to straighten up as well. He inspects your face for a bit, tracing your red spots and scratches with his fingertips, and frowns. “Sometimes I think you’re a bit too careless.” Johnny mumbles just above a whisper, making you smile. Not particularly with happiness or being flattered, but something rooted more from embarrassment. “You say that a lot.”

“Yeah, because I want you to come home in one piece.” He takes his hands off of your face. “So you can finally get it on with Jaehyun.”

He immediately receives a shove to his chest and full on laughs at that, watching your pissed off face that is rather scary for anybody else. After years of knowing you ever since you first walked into this place only with another survivor, coming from a smaller settlement that went to absolute chaos, Johnny could not ever fear you. Fear you in a respectful sense, yes, absolutely. Because he has seen what you are capable of doing outside to survive. And in actuality, it is not the capability that made him fear you in that respectful sense; it is that he has seen you melt into the nature of it all, sometimes losing yourself in the things that surround you and the things you are feeling. Johnny has always differentiated himself from everything, so seeing that was what made him fear you.

The very same things made people fear you, as well. A lot of people stayed away from you, which always made him feel bad. He found it extremely admirable that as a teenager you were able to look for a settlement without any guardians and with only a companion, even though your earlier settlement was not too far from the city. At the same time, he could not fear you knowing how you can get with people when you care about them. He had learnt about it all first-hand when he was the first to approach you at the grey and distressing identification center after you arrived, after his parents encouraged him to ask you over for dinner, after visiting you many times at the lonely dorms and helping you fall asleep by tiring you out with his jokes and conversations, after helping you move into your own place when you were old enough, after going on patrols with you and much, much more.

“You’re disgusting, does anybody ever tell you that?” Your annoyed voice almost echoes to his ears after the many shouted singings and overall shouts he had heard that night. “The word you’re looking for would be ‘teasing’ and I just know it’s on the way. That relationship is long overdue.”

“Hey!” A familiar voice interrupts your bickering, and when you turn to the direction it is coming from, you see Yuta just behind the fence. He climbs up a bit and hangs off the railing, not fully climbing onto the porch. “Hey, man. Why don’t you just come to the porch?”

Yuta holds a hand up and waves it around, and both you and Johnny fear that he will fall down with only one hand on the fence helping him sling over, so you both take a step towards him in a hurry. But he does not fall and places his hand back. “I’ll just go home. I’m very cold and kinda drunk.”

Johnny mumbles a we can see that under his breath, but he cannot say it louder because Yuta points a finger at you, prompting you to take another step. “You are patrolling with me tomorrow.”

You finally get a hold of his arm and Johnny takes care of the other one, so now his feet are planted to the ledge of the porch and you two are basically holding a whole grown man up on his feet. That does not hold you back from complaining, though. “What, why? I was out just today.”

The drunken man shrugs. “Don’t know why you, but I think I saw Jaehyun sign your name up with us.”

A closed-mouthed snicker comes from Johnny at Yuta’s words and you snap your head at him, looking into his eyes, warning him not to do the very thing he is doing right now and to shut up about it afterwards. “Fine, I’ll come with you tomorrow.”

“You didn’t exactly have a choice.”

The knock on your door wakes you up the next morning.

Groggy a little from drinking the night before, and from the soreness of your face, you are not the happiest when you open the door up to greet Yuta and Jaehyun. They are standing on the thick snow that has covered the ground overnight, all equipped up and ready to go. The two of them look noticeably more content as well whereas you are just there basically ready to beg them to let you sleep some more. Actually, ready to beg them to leave you alone altogether.

You could really use a day off after falling face-first to the concrete yesterday. It has been long since you have had a day off anyway. Lately it was either you were going out on a patrol or sweep, or you were training the new recruits and the volunteers. You kind of did not remember the concept of sleeping in at this point.

“I would say good morning, but your morning looks far from any of that.” Yuta says in an annoyingly bright tone, and then he points at your face. “Your face didn’t swell up. I don’t know if you can tell, but that’s magical.”

Your fingers reach up to your sore cheekbone once again. Yuta is all true, there is no swelling up although it hurts so bad still as if you had not cleaned it up, when you did. Multiple times. “Just come in. I’ll wash up and grab my coat.”

They walk in when you hold the door open for them and scoot to the side, and make their way to your couch, plopping down on it without any care. You make your way to the bathroom in silence and quickly wash your mouth and face, only bothering to change your clothes because you see a change hanging over the shower cabin. After doing so you hurry over to your wardrobe in your room and grab your coat along with your gear, and make your way to the pair of boots you had been wearing for quite long. You ask your question while you are struggling with putting them on. “Why are we going out anyway? I thought every spot was clear.”

“Someone said that the crops are dead already outside the walls,” Jaehyun answers. “Means the winter’s coming faster and harder. And that means herds may come in faster. Taeyong just wants to make sure nothing’s out of control.” Which does make sense that him and the council would decide on something like that, especially after the chaos that was a couple of years ago. Uncontrollable increase in infected meant uncontrollable increase in herds moving around, and that meant uncontrollable fullness of areas, which meant hunting for supplies were almost halted, which meant there was a serious shortage in supplies. “Plus, we’re running low on medicine. So if we find any on the way,”

“Yeah, okay.” You nod as you let your foot fall after tying the last knot. “Is it only us three?”

“No,” Yuta jumps at the question, almost. “Donghyuck’s coming as well. Said he needs to let off some steam.”

“Why?” You chuckle. He looked dandy fine last night at the square, warming himself up by the fire and chatting and laughing with people. “I heard they fought with Mark.” Jaehyun, once again, answers.

“Again?” Grunting as you wear your coat, you zip it up before opening the door and holding it out once more. The boys stand up and walk towards the door. “Why can’t they keep their stuff to themselves?” You laugh, dearly hoping this fight is not another one feisty enough to keep them from talking to each other for months.

“Wouldn’t know.” Jaehyun mumbles, and waits for you to close your door before starting to walk with you. You smile at the close proximity he keeps with you as you two walk behind Yuta, following him to the stables near the big metal gates through the lively streets.

Donghyuck is already waiting for you when you arrive. He complains about his horse being taken by someone else first thing when he spots your group, prompting the stable staff to laugh behind him, presumably at the fact that he is not complaining that he will be going out for a patrol in the freezing cold, no, but that he is complaining about ‘his’ horse that is technically not his being taken away. He does not really bother to greet you as well. It is a common theme with him, so you do not take offense.

Once you are handed your horses over to you, you make your way to the gates, holding them from their reins— just in case if they ever get freaked out from the sounds the gates decide to make.

You spot a familiar face at the gate. Walking over to him is basically an instinct. “Hey,”

“Hi.” Mark smiles at you, and pets your horse on the nose a little.

Mark is important to you.

He is the person that has accompanied you on your way here after your last settlement got raided by a large group of people that belonged to a community called Nox— the largest community ever established after everything went wrong with the world, and the most developed, as well. Their recruiting process was very disciplined, they had spread all over the country in years and mostly aimed specifically for the big cities, which allowed them to have plenty of resources and people with ‘greater’ professions (like doctors, scientists, military officials, agents, anything that was deemed to be handy in an apocalypse) in their communities.

That had been what happened. It was supposed to be a recruitment, but once people denied to be a part of them and stood up for themselves, they did not like that. At least the branch that they had sent out did not like that.

Your settlement was up in flames by the time you and Mark made it out of there. The night had brightened up as if it was the morning.

Then, it was a month full of almost-dying. The two of you had been out of your settlement before, but not for long periods where you also had to look for some place that would take you. Infected wanted to get you, and if they did not, it was the people. Sometimes they would take you in for a short while, letting you use their resources before changing their paths and letting you go with a bit of a help; maybe weaponry, maybe food, maybe medicine.

Mark and you would have to find hiding spots and places to sleep, and a lot of the times you would just make do with sleeping under a vehicle in the cold in unpopulated areas. Although hard to believe, those spots were one of the least visible and most secure.

The two of you had saved each other perhaps countless times from dying. You were not friends before you ran away from your settlement. You did not exactly know a lot about each other beforehand, only acquainted as a familiar face you would see on the street. Yet when you ended up together, you cared about each other so unexpectedly much.

After you came to the city, though, it had changed a lot. They put you on schedules and dorms and houses that mostly did not go with each other, so the communication had broken— except for slight communication through Johnny who was your middle ground with his role of being a mutual friend. The sheer care you had for each other had stayed the same, though. It would have been difficult to let go of that.

“What happened to your face?” Mark asks and instinctively reaches out for it, making you hiss when his fingers come into contact with the sore red spot. He immediately retracts. “I fell.”

His brows furrow as if he is not believing it, so you laugh to calm him down. “No, I really fell. Planted face first onto the concrete.” That makes him chuckle, but his brows are still furrowed. “Of course you’d do that.”

Mark takes a deep breath. “You have everything you need?”

Someone shouts from behind, one of the watches. “Herd patrol, open the gates!”

“Yeah, I do.” You answer him, and he smiles a bit more reassuringly. “Be safe out there. Let me see you from the gate when you come back.”

There is the screeching sound that the gates do whenever they open that would surely attract some infected if there were any of them around, so you could only hope there were not. Your hold on the rein gets tighter when your horse gets a bit agitated from it. “I’m coming back and you know it, Mark.” Smirking, you step on the foot hold and mount onto the saddle.

He says only one thing before he lets you go. “I do.”

Outside the gates could have been just as pretty as it always was if it was not for the thick snow that coated everywhere and made it hard to travel.

Underneath the thick cover of snow would be overgrown grass and wild plants and flowers that definitely were made to not be natives of the land before any of this had happened, but were now claiming their home to themselves and growing freely without any control. You did not know what most of the plants or flowers even were, even though they had taught you back in school— but you knew you would never be a farmer or a wanderer. You knew you would never have to rely on that knowledge so giving up on it was pretty much an instant thing.

Above the snow, though, were pines and willows thriving in the humid cold. Corkscrew willows, narrow leaf willows and glaucous willows were painting the very much white and grey scenery some lighter shades of green and pink, glistening with the snow sitting on them when the silver but blinding sunlight hit their surface.

You were pretty much on watch the whole time as the possibility of a herd passing through occupied your mind. There were the occasional wildlife passing through the valley, mostly rabbits, dogs and squirrels, and the occasional deer. They run around, sometimes passing under the horses or too close to them and scaring them a bit off. It was nothing that you could not take care of though.

Through a mutual agreement, you go to the town first since it is a good distance away from the city still and is one of the places that is sure to have any signs of a herd if they are coming in. That was because there were not a lot of traces of the infection since there is no people that still live in that town, and the infected would just roam through to potentially find a host.

Some of them would just die on their own from the cold and spew out spores in hopes of reaching something. They usually did not.

When you are in the Western-looking, red and brown brick-borne town, you divide the sections and go your separate ways. You probably would not have done that had the entrance of the town been crowded, but it had not been anything close to that. Yuta insists on his advice for all of you to do everything as quietly as you can just in case, and you all seem to agree on that, considering this is only a patrol and not a sweep and you do not have that much ammo.

The South of the town was mostly empty to your delight. Definitely more crowded than how it usually was this time of the year, but nothing you could not take care of. You did not even have to waste too much of your ammo taking out the infected that were already there— ones mostly freshly infected. Runners, who could still see you and who could still run and who still looked like humans except for their blood covered mouth and hands. They looked alive. They grunted, they made humanly noises, they twitched in their place. It almost looked like whoever they used to be was still inside them and was trying to fight that damn thing off.

It made your blood go cold at the thought every single time.

Once you are done with the infected you could see so far by the help of your trusted stealth skills and dagger and only some of your ammo, you check on a couple of buildings that were on your list that had not been explored yet. But after being open for anybody to come and loot year after year, there was not much that you could find. Some rubbing alcohol hiding away in a stash of unusable supplies, some canned food that were very suspiciously still not out of date, and a few more things. Nothing too useful.

Within a bit over a couple of hours at the least, you make it back to your meeting point at the main street of the entrance, the supplies stacked behind your horse and on the board she was equipped with that would help her in being able to drag everything comfortably. To your relief, everyone is already there, and there are no infected in sight. “Anything useful?” Jaehyun asks, and you shake your head.

“I could get some rubbing alcohol and some gas for the generators, but that’s about it.” Yuta nods at your words. “Same here— except I found this stash of ammo and some meds, but I didn’t take any of it.”

Donghyuck glares at him with an obviously visible amount of anger in his eyes, which makes Yuta further explain himself. “I don’t want to mess with them if they’re a trespasser. I’ll give it a week, and if it’s still there then, I’m just gonna dive in because the prick had some good stuff in there.” He sighs. “I also left a note, saying you’re kind of fucked, friend, because the herd’s coming. Told them to head down to the river following the valley and that the place with working lights and big metal gates would welcome them if they’re smart about it.”

Sometimes Yuta could be extremely innocent, wanting to believe everyone is good, but he had something about him where most of these people he left notes for would actually turn out to be decent people that would join your community. So you could only hope whoever this was would be the same. “That is so sweet of you, but I think some of the herd is already here.” Donghyuck says, and all of you turn your heads to him. “You know the hotel half of it’s said farewell? It was flooded with infected. Of all kinds.”

“Sounds like a fucking dream.” Jaehyun murmurs, kicking around the snow a bit with his boots, looking down. You lay a supportive hand on his forearm. “Sweepers will be lucky though. Some of them are loaded with stuff— backpacks on and everything.”

But his words still hold a heavy weight to them, because these poor souls just did not survive for as long as they planned for. And it makes you wonder, wonder if they were alone or in a group, moving or not moving, had a family or not, had friends or not; what was their original plan? Did they even have a plan, or did everything just happen when they were hidden away in somewhere?

“I found a safe, like a whole dark room,” Jaehyun says. “Inside an apartment. I guess they were a pharmacist or a doctor or something— there are a lot of bottles and boxes of medicine and compounds. And I hardly think they belong to anyone at this point because the door lock was literally rotting away.”

“You think it’s okay to take?” Donghyuck asks Yuta, who nods promptly. “Let’s not take all of it just yet, though. Leave it for the next patrol or the sweepers, they can get the remainder later.”

And then he clears his throat. “Why don’t you two go ahead?”

You two. Jaehyun and you.

Before you know it, you are already sent that way and are trotting your way down to the apartment with your horses. The apartment is definitely not close to the meeting point, especially had you been on foot, but with trotting your way down it was much easier to access. You see the infected Jaehyun has taken down, and again, most of them were Runners; the only explanation you could come up with was that the actual herd had had a feast in another settlement or an area ridden with survivor groups, and since they are Runners they can move faster which is why they are already here with the cold. Basically that they are the herd before the herd.

You dismount when you arrive at the brick and brown, dirty looking building and follow Jaehyun up the stairs that by some miracle do not just collapse, watching him easily open up the doors after having broken into them.

Like he said, the room is there, mostly dark but only lit when its door is open and light spills in through the shutters, and it really is packed with medical supplies.

“I randomly inspected some of them, most of it’s not out of date yet.” You nod at him when he looks at you. “Okay.”

But something genuinely pisses you off. It has been pissing you off for some time, so the only thing you can do is confront him when you are alone. “Jaehyun,”

“Yeah?” He kneels onto the floor and starts inspecting things again, placing some of them into the bag he had grabbed from the side of the saddle before you made your way in. You kneel in front of him and sigh, looking down at his hands and spotting the slightly scarred knuckles. Probably from subconsciously pushing on doors while breaking in. “I know it was weird a few nights ago because everyone was around, but it’s weirder right now because you have a thing where you go awkward and quiet when you feel that way,” His eyes bore into yours. “And I really can’t stand that,” You let out an airy chuckle, and he kind of smiles as well. “So either kiss me like you mean it next time or never do and let us stay as friends.”

It was supposed to be a basic thing.

Jaehyun had kissed you a few nights ago at a movie screening. He had asked you to watch the old sci-fi movie with him, and had waited for you in front of the cinema, stuck between the crowds of people of all ages. Throughout the movie you had just whisper-chatted back and forth, almost none of your attention on any of the scenes even when they got louder. The topics of your chats had been lighthearted and fun as well, gossiping a bit about your friends and telling each other about funny encounters you recently had with people around the city or outside. Sometimes the chats were about the movie, with questions of what would you do if you were living in that universe instead of this one, which one would you prefer and more, debating on the questionable answers; throwing your dried and seasoned corn at each other if either of you thought the other had absolutely ran out of any sanity.

After the screening he had just asked you if he could kiss you as if it was the most normal thing he could ask, saying he could not wait any more, and you had let him because the mutual attraction had been there for too long and you wanted him to kiss you just as much as you had been wanting to kiss him.

But he had gotten shy about it— crowds were never Jaehyun’s thing, and that was fine. The thing that was not fine was how he acted around you for days after that, quiet and somewhat cold and awkward, when you were okay with it all and had expected him to make a move last night at the square.

He breathes out a laugh through his nose and looks down, playing with his hangnails and the traces of the rein that is left on his fingers, not deep but definitely visible still and a bit pink around the outlines. He smiles under his nose, you can see it because the lines of light that hits his face illuminate the side of his lips that is curled up, and when he picks his head up and the lines hit his brown eyes, you are smiling too.

Because Jaehyun places his hand at the back of your neck and kisses you.

Firmly, with care, and like nobody else is there— there is nobody there, but this time it feels like even if there were people he would have been fine with it. He lets you place your hands on the spots between his chest and shoulders, and lets you pull him further down with ease, spreading his other hand that is holding you on your back to give you better support. He opens his mouth first for you, maybe to show he is meaning this and he means so much more, and you give into it. That goes on for a while with hands roaming wherever they can. You only come back to your senses when his teeth scratch your bottom lip.

He stops when your hands push against him lightly. “Any longer and Yuta will never let this die down.”

Nibbling on his lip with his teeth, Jaehyun huffs a smile and nods. “He really won’t.” And he leans in again, only pecking you this time.

Johnny and his predictions that gave you the bravery and encouragement to do these kinds of things could go fall face first onto the concrete.

The rest of the patrol and getting back to the city go almost seamless, except for the fact that you had to pass by a couple of groups of infected— some Runners who had spotted you and alerted the Clickers (one of the older stages of infected where the infection has taken over most of their skin and has made its way out, taking over their eyes and using echolocation with the clicking sounds that comes from their throats) with the sound they made. They caused a bit of a hassle, but nothing you could not take care of; not with Jaehyun’s quick bow skills as you galloped through the occupied areas of the valley and all of your leftover ammo. “You’re losing a lot of arrows, don’t you think?” Donghyuck asks Jaehyun, shouting a bit out of breath since the galloping motion is taking a toll on him.

Jaehyun pulls the reins to himself harshly. “Yeah,” His horse halts without any discomfort, and you see him from the corner of your eye before he is left behind. “I’ll meet you at the gate!”

And he starts galloping to the opposite way.

If it was anybody else, any and most probably all of you would have started screaming some sense into him. But it was Jaehyun. Whose way of doing things outside, although stealthy, was very impulsive. So you do not take your gaze away from the road ahead of you, locking your eyes on the city just now visible as you make your way down.

It is already dusk by the time you are at the gates and the watches see you, asking where the hell Jaehyun is and offering to open the gates when Yuta tells them he is collecting his arrows back from a small area, so he should be back any minute. All of you agree that you do not want the gates to open before he comes so the noise does not attract anything more than it needs to.

Just as you expect, the missing person of your quad comes sooner than later. A proud smile is on his face as he goes on about being able to get back five of the seven arrows he had used, waiting for all of you to make your ways in before walking in himself.

“We have some gas and some meds,” You tell the watch who is there the second you walk in, to unleash the supplies behind your horse. “With plenty of infected on the side.” Donghyuck adds, too upbeat for the news he is delivering. One of the gatekeepers is quite mortified to hear that which is why he feels inclined to add more to his words. “Not a dooming amount, but we definitely need a few sweeps. It’d be worse if the herd caught up to them.”

“Why don’t you just go tell that to Taeyong?” Mark cuts in, and you can immediately tell how irritated Donghyuck gets. His face gets red, his eyes drop and squint, and he completely forgets about getting off his horse which all of you do at that point. “Oh would you look at that,”

Mark tries to hold a snicker in, you can tell, because his lips curl inwards. “It’s almost as if that’s not exactly what I was about to do. Fucking asshole.”

Mark finally gives in then, letting his shoulders shake when he greets you, giggling. He tries to check if you have any bites since it is a procedure he needs to do, but he cannot do it effectively with how much he is giggling— which was fine, because he could very clearly see you did not have any bites. None of your clothes were torn, and your face, hands and neck that was not covered up was just very visibly in quite okay condition.

“I’m having dinner at Johnny’s tonight,” You tell Mark as he lets go of your hands, making him pick his head up. “Just saying.”

“I’ll see if I can pay a visit.”

You smile at him and make your way over to Jaehyun, letting him put an arm around your shoulders and walk away with you, planting a kiss on the side of your head.

He does pay a visit.

The night is pierced through with Mark’s laughter when Johnny’s mouth drops open. He stops mindlessly strumming his guitar when it takes over him. “Dude, I’m telling you,” He says between his laughs. “They didn’t even look at each other when they were leaving, and somehow they were all lovey-dovey by the time they got back.”

“Fuck you,” Johnny nudges you rather hard in your side, and this time you are snickering along with Mark just at the sight of his face. “You called me creepy when I knew all along.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Johnny. I apologize for not crediting you enough on your talent of predicting relationships.” Your smile dies down a little after that, and your voice goes a bit quieter with the confusion. “Well I don’t know if it’s a relationship yet. It just happened, sort of.”

Johnny shrugs at that and puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him on the couch with one of your legs dangling over and one of them propped up. “That’s fine. You guys can let it brew for a bit more. Just test the waters.” A breath of a chuckle makes its way out of your nose at his words and how the high you had felt a few hours ago had crashed down into this weird oblivion, but Mark nods in agreement.

You do not see it, but Johnny smiles down at you while you fix your eyes on the photographs on his wall. Some of his, some of his parents’, some of his newborn days— the final days just before the infection started taking all over the country and the world. There are a few with you and Mark, too, a couple of them looking downright awkward with Mark and you too numb to the friendship he was offering you after coming to the brink of death maybe tens or maybe hundreds of times, and another couple of them where the photos are just blurry with how much you were laughing and it made steadying his parents’ old camera harder.

He turns his head to the opposite side, facing Mark. “You got any sick raps, Mark?”

“What is that question?” Mark howls out, laughing his chest off like he always does. “When you say it like that I don’t wanna rap ever again.”

But he does, because Mark is like that.

Johnny and you do your best in hyping him up, shouting and howling and springing in your place to the beat of his lyrics. You two let him rap until he really does not feel like it anymore, and you listen to him when he goes back to strumming his guitar, softly singing some things every now and then. So quietly that you almost do not even hear it.

The night goes on like that. You just lounge around, Johnny between you and Mark, cozy and warm.

If there was anything about them two, it was that they made you feel normal somehow. Which is maybe why you cherished them so much, and what the three of you have.

Unfortunately, you wake up early once again in your own room in the morning even though you do not have any reason to.

There are some upsides to that when you have the day off, as much as you hate it. You get to take a shower with all cold, yet much appreciated water, and properly change your clothes into new ones after a long while, to make a breakfast with what you have stored away in your cupboards, and maybe even do laundry if you had any leftover homemade soap.

Sometimes you paid a visit to the dorms, checking up on lonely recruits if there were any that you had grown some kind of attachment to.

That morning you do all of that, too. You get your hair and body feeling and looking all clean, eat somewhat of a nutritious breakfast that is much better when compared with just going with an all empty stomach, change into some of your newest clothes that Johnny and Jaehyun had gifted you once after an outing for hoarding. Except while you are making your way to the dorms just to check on the newest recruits, you stumble upon a group of people lining in front of the entrance to the stables.

Your interest peaks when you spot Johnny, who is writing his name down on the board at the gates that open to the place. You hurry over to him as best you can in your still sleepy state. “Morning,”

He hears you but does not bother to turn his head to look at you, knowing you would come to stand next to him. “Hey.”

As expected, you halt when you are there. You look at his name on the board and his signature along with the date, and you know for a fact he is going out. “Sweep?”

“Yeah,” He lends the pen to the person next to him, and moves out of the line, prompting you to move away with him. “Signing up last minute. Taeyong and Yuta can’t make it out today, so.”

“Why?” You furrow your brows, and he shrugs a little. “Yuta’s needed at the training grounds today, and who knows what Taeyong has to take care of.”

He watches you as you sigh, truly tired of it, but the inner conflict is louder than any type of exhaustion you could possibly have. “Well I’m coming with you.”

When you try to walk into the line he steps in front of you, and puts a stop to whatever madness you are planning. His hands physically stop you as well as he places them on your shoulders. “No you aren’t,” Johnny’s voice is firm, and his brows are furrowed just slightly. “You need a day off. Your whole face looks purple with the cold, the lack of sleep, and the scar— and you look awful.”

He smiles then as if he had not just dragged the way you look all over the floor. “Just go and relax. Maybe spend some time with Jae, hm?”

You bite down on the insides of your lips and nibble on them, and furrow your eyebrows at the squeeze of your heart. “Just do me a favor and be careful. There are a lot of Runners around,” One of your hands come up half-bothered to point at the people in the line. “Tell that to the group as well.”

There is a silence that lasts a couple of seconds, but then Johnny pulls you in for a hug. “You know,” He mumbles. “If you actually talked to more people they’d like you better.” He knew what you would say, that you do not like the stares that people throw at you anywhere and everywhere, and that it stops you from approaching them. So, he stops that from happening before it can. “I’ll take your horse if that will make you feel any better.”

Stepping away from him, you smile and shove him a little. “Take my horse if it will make you feel any more secure, and send her back if your ass can’t make it.”

“Will do.”

Dusk comes, and the sun sets.

Some people do not return that evening, and Johnny is one of them.

Supposedly, his whole group is missing— which is a good thing, because it is not completely uncommon that people camp in some sort of a hide-out if the infected in the area are too much for them to handle with the amount of people they have and they think it is better to wait it out.

Which is why, although bitter, there is hope inside of you.

His parents are distressed when Taeyong comes to tell them the news, and they remain just as distressed afterwards if not more. Whenever you see them, you cannot help but notice how their faces are overborne with concern. Their brows are always furrowed, their mouths are always pointed downwards in a frown, their eyes always glazed over with what looked like thousands of thoughts racing all around, and the wrinkles on their faces are deepened in some areas with the weight and tension.

You grow distressed and restless as well, as hours— days pass. The concept of night and day loses its significance because you are too distracted during the day when you are supposed to be training the recruits, and too uncomfortable during the night rolling all over the bed without a drop of sleep in your eyes.

And it must be not only you that is feeling that way, because Taeyong knocks on your door in the dead of the night a few days after Johnny’s disappearance. When you open the door his arms are crossed over his chest, and he looks a lot paler than he usually is, his eyes red all around.

He gets straight to the point. “You, Yuta, Jaehyun and Mark. I want you to search for them while another group goes for a sweep.” His voice breaks at some point because of how tired he must be feeling and how scared. You nod slightly, the tension pulling and burdening your face. “Okay.”

After your mumbled, quick and short answer Taeyong turns right back on his heel and walks down the stairs of the porch. You cannot bring yourself to close the door just yet when you see him, a friend of a friend but a figure as protective and wise, walk away with his guards clearly down. “You should try and get some sleep,” You advise after him, even though you yourself are suffering from the same problem he is. “What you do matters.”

Taeyong does not slow down, and is out of your sight within seconds after he leaves your backyard.

Next morning, it is as if you had done a mutual agreement between the four of you, because you are all by the stables with the slightest hue of sunlight.

No one is smiling or looking content in any way or shape, but no one is agitated, either. The most healthy thing at that moment is to force yourselves to go numb altogether and you all know it.

With so much as some collective huffs you write your names down on the board and sign in the hand-drawn boxes next to them, being able to see all of the missing people’s names that were out just before you— it was never a pretty situation. The stables are kind of empty from all the horses that are missing as well and it feels weird to not be able to go out with the horse, your horse that you had considered a companion for years on end.

But Anubis, the black horse assigned to you that day, was a good compensation. He was surprisingly comfortable with you from the get-go.

The stable you were in got too empty after all of the search and sweep groups took their horses with only a couple of them left behind, and before you knew it, you were on them and stationed in front of the gate. Handwritten documents were in Yuta’s hands mapping out yesterday’s group’s sweeping locations.

And as he said just before you all mounted on your horses, no one would be parting ways that day.

When the gates open, you immediately start galloping behind the sweepers— they collectively had more ammo than your group, and they were going in the same direction for a while, so they could be some sort of a shield for you if the groups had somehow started moving much faster all of a sudden. Your group would be heading to the settlement just a bit further away from the town you had gone through yesterday; most probably what used to be its business district if any of your predictions were true. The sweepers would be going to the town, figuring the groups that were saturated behind the town must be at its downtown now.

The way up the valley is rather empty, which is almost more unsettling when you think of how many people are missing.

Six, to be exact, counting Johnny.

You try to focus on different things, like how your backside hurts as you gallop upwards and Anubis pants under you. On the fact that he is a rather strong horse and you had never noticed that when anybody else was riding him. How he is maybe the most elevated horse you have ever had, and how his back is very uncomfortable to ride on even with a saddle. How he is very enduring considering he does not slow down in the slightest even after the valley starts getting a little rough, not falling behind any horses and even passing some of them if it was not for you that took him back under control.

It helps you, focusing on him, because you do not want to focus on things that might get your guard down.

The sweepers part their way with you at the point they need to, making a turn for the northeast once you enter the town, letting you pass straight through. Without any goodbyes because you have officially entered the danger zone.

And you truly have, because there are Runners around with not as many Clickers roaming through in the visible distance where the sweepers are headed. You can only internally wish them good luck.

It takes less than an hour to get to the probable business district that is filled with concrete and glass covered buildings unlike the town, overtaken by vegetation (and snow) that has washed over its blues and greys and beiges and the financial personality it once had— again unlike its brown and red brick counterpart.

All of you make your horses come to a halt once you enter the environment, again, just to make sure there is as little noise as possible. Dismounting from them and taking the reins in your hands is an instinct. “Where do we go first?”

Yuta looks down at the papers with Mark’s question. His fingers trace over the words until they find what they are looking for. “Well,” He huffs, placing a hand on his nape with a wince. “They were going to the law firm, the bank in southwest, the city hall and they would meet at the conference hall. They must be around these areas if we’re lucky.”

“And if they’re lucky.” Jaehyun says under his breath, but you hear him loud and clear. And you have a feeling that everybody does.

Yuta drops his hand that is holding the papers and sighs. “The bank’s the farthest one, let’s go.”

They are not at the bank.

Not in the bank, not around the bank, not in the subway station under the bank where there is a hide-out in one of the conductor rooms, not inside the surrounding business buildings all of which have of their doors opened whether it is one of the back/staff doors or the front entrances as if it is an all-you-can-get open buffet of places to roam around for the infected. When in actuality, your people’s strategy is to close the doors and lightly barricade them after coming into any contact, trying to keep as many infected on the roads so it is somewhat easier to wipe them out by narrowing their moving space. It also helped indicating whether there had been any recent trespassers at all, because most people not acquainted with your settlement would not bother with closing the doors behind them as they lost themselves in all the possible places to hoard.

And it all just means that there must have been trespassers recently, making the infected harder to find since they were free to go into the buildings, which must have messed up with the sweeping.

It does not feel right at all.

The law firm which is a rather small building is of no help as well. No alive, normal human is inside, not in any of the five floors that you have to clear out a little or around, and once again the doors are open. All you can find are supplies lying around the fifth floor that are definitely from the city’s storage so you know that they must have stayed for some time there at some point. You take them back. But there is nothing more.

To be truthful about things, none of you had your hopes up about the city hall. It was an extremely open space and was most definitely not the safest in this situation, nor the most resourceful place to hide or camp in anytime— or to hoard things with nothing but once-fancy tiles all over the interior and no leftover supplies from passing groups. However, they would have gone there to check if there was anybody hiding away, because people (especially in groups) who passed through did that since it is a quite distinctive and low building in between all of the higher buildings for those unfamiliar with the area. They would have brought them back to the city if any of them were there. So it does not surprise you when you find the city hall empty as well, except for the sea of infected that swarm the grand entrance to the hall that make your eyes widen and immediately shut the door close when you first open it up. Plus holding onto dear life pushing against the doors with Jaehyun when some of them are attracted to the noise and make a run for it.

Sweep season was the worst season.

Through a mutual agreement, you barricade the doors a little (a lot) tighter with fire truck hoses that have long been detached from the abandoned truck between the hall and one of the high-rise buildings that most probably was sitting there since the outbreak day, where fire trucks were not only used for the countless fires that started especially in the traffic, but also to rescue people stuck in upper floors of buildings that were taken over by the Runners.

There is no way the infected trapped in the hall can open the doors through layers upon layers of a thick hose wrapped and tied around the handles of the entrance, at least you all would like to believe that.

When your heart rate picks up is when you spot a building with its visible doors closed on the way to the conference hall. “Wait.”

Everyone stops, prompting their horses to do the same as them. The guys look at the direction of your gaze, and they all seem to come to a realization. “Do you think-?”

“I think there’s no reason we shouldn’t.” But Yuta does not look too keen on it, so you have to agree further. “There’s something obvious here, and I think it’s an objective point when I say that.”

He nods at that and clears his throat, looking up at the building for a split second. “Is it okay if you search with Mark? Jaehyun and I’ll be here, I kind of need a second thought as I plan out the mapping for if they aren’t here or at the conference hall.”

“That’s fine.” You assure him, and nod your head at Mark. “Let’s go.”

Inside the building is eerily quiet, but brightly lit with the afternoon sun shining through all the glass. You have never been in this building before, at least you do not think so, because the lobby does not ring the slightest bell to you.

There are bodies of infected that are taken out lying all around. They paint the light creme flooring red with their blood, but it is comforting. Because it is for certain that they have been here, at least.

A fire exit door is all that you are looking for, or a staff room that could possibly lead to the stairway, but it takes a bit of an embarrassingly long time for you two to spot anything in the seemingly open-spaced, bright lobby. You come to learn a bit after starting to walk around that the entry to the stairway beside the elevators just outside of the oval lobby is also blocked with something on the other side.

“There’s a crack in the elevator doors,” Mark suggests, and although ladders are the one thing you hate the most, you agree to take them to the upper floors.

It is so dark and humid inside with years upon years of unventilated air, the smell of rust and rot is absolutely disgusting, and you fear that the years-old ladders will break any second with both you and Mark’s weight on them. Not to mention how tiring climbing up a ladder can be for your arms and legs when you hold onto the thin and flimsy metal waiting for the other to separate one of the elevator doors, most of which are rightfully blocked.

On one of the far upper floors, though, there is no blockage, and you can swing yourselves onto the hallway. Which is scary to be honest, especially when you are all this way up and if you miss anything your way down will be met with an old, hard, rusting top of an elevator on your back.

But god bless the planners (maybe their souls) of this place, because the ladder is close to the opening enough that you can swing onto the floor without too much hassle. Neither of you slip after jumping down onto it.

“Do you think,” Mark dusts himself off as if it would help with anything, takes a deep breath in his tired lungs, and rephrases his words. “Do you think they came all the way up here through that?”

“Maybe they blocked the stairway and the doors,” You suggest instead, and it sounds a lot more like the option the two of you would like to believe in. “Right half yours left half mine?”

“Sure.” He answers, and the two of you go your separate ways on the big office floor.

A few doors open to the empty, messy office rooms and you check through the drawers for anything worthy to take back with you even though there is not much of it. One of them provides you with some scissors and lighter liquid, which end up being the most usable things you get out of them. Some doors do not even budge with whatever is blocking your way.

But there is a room at the visible end of the hall where the door will budge, but will not open.

You resort to using your shoulders to break into the room rather quickly. There is not any particularly loud sound coming from behind the thick, polished wooden door, and something about it being left secure but still accessible made you think there must be something behind that door that is useful. Maybe a stash of actually usable supplies or much preferably, anything that leads you to your missing people.

The door opens with your fifth push, and you hear the sound of a broken lock clink on the ground.

You also hear the shriek of a Runner who jumps you immediately after being attracted to the sound.

With the force of your push you have basically thrown yourself into the arms of the Runner which is never a good thing or in any way close to an ideal situation, and you have to duck away by kneeling lower and throwing yourself to the sharp opposite side of where the infected is facing to make sure it does not grab your arms. You take a few steps away but it is just as fast as you are, so you have to use your quick wit and draw out your gun in the blink of your eyes, shooting it in the head— impractically unable to care whether there were any infected on Mark’s side or not because it was either you or whoever they were with the shock and the pace of things.

The mess of a creature falls down with a slump, your heart absolutely racing but also dropping— because as you look down at it you can see that you know who she used to be. You were not friends or even really acquaintances, but you know for a fact that she lives in the city. So you turn back around to the open-planned office with your fast approaching panic and adrenaline.

Which is when you see it.

Johnny, slumped onto the floor, sitting with his legs spread out. Johnny, whose ankle looks broken. Johnny, who has his gun in his hand.

Johnny, who has a bite mark on his exposed right arm where orange-salmon colored fungi is growing out, extending upwards to his shoulders and neck.

Johnny, who has a hole on the left side of his chest, red spatter over the wall behind him, slumped on the floor with fungi growing out of his arm ready to grow all over his glowing skin until he grows into the wall and starts letting out spores.

Johnny, dead.

You do not know if any air makes its way into your lungs. It surely does not feel like it. Your ears ring and your eyes go dark with purple spots all over your vision and you get dizzy and nauseous, but somehow, you stand.

“Mark!” You shout out, surprising yourself, calling and alerting him when you can already hear his fast approaching steps thumping on the floor at the sound of the gun fire. Before barely a few seconds can pass he barges into the room with his gun in his hand but stops when he sees you frozen in place. Then, he follows your gaze.

Even from the side of your eye, it is obvious he flinches. “What the hell happened here?” His voice is not above a whisper.

You look at the less familiar face lying on the ground, and its shoulder. “The bite marks look similar.” There is no sense of stillness in your voice as you speak. “I guess they just locked themselves away,” Teeth grinding tightly, you let out a silent and choked sob, because you cannot believe any of this bullshit your eyes are seeing.

Mark takes a few steps towards Johnny and picks something up from the ground— a paper— making his way to you. But he stands on his own while he reads with his slightly shaky hands, and crumples the paper once he is done skimming over it. He sits next to you on the hard, carpeted but otherwise concrete floor. “They got bit while they were clearing out the basement,” His lips wobble a bit, but he quickly covers it up by placing his fist over his mouth until it goes away. “Locked themselves in here so they wouldn’t harm anybody.”

“If the trespassers didn’t go through the district leaving every goddamn door open, none of this would’ve fucking happened.” Maybe you were trying to blame it on someone, or maybe you really were mad at them for their ignorance as they went through the city. You did not know for certain, although it felt a whole lot like it was the latter. Because they would not have had to camp here anyway. There would not have been infected in the buildings in the first place.

You sit down where you are standing, looking at Johnny.

All you know is that this was unfair. If anyone deserved surviving long in this world it was Johnny. He was physically strong, and he had a good mental attitude, and he was so purely good that the last thing he deserved was to die the way everybody did, alone and scared and not wanting to turn into one of those things. He deserved to die of old age if anything after living a happy and healthy life, continuing to help lonely recruits like you and Mark— doing what he likes to do until his very last days. Training, falling in love, teasing and pestering his friends whenever and wherever, giving advice, making people’s stomachs hurt with his smooth and not-so-smooth jokes, doing photography as long as that camera of his would survive, spending time with his family and not moving out of their house even though there are available houses until the time comes when he absolutely has to.

But he cannot do any of those things anymore.

He also cannot be there for you or Mark anymore.

Your trembling hand comes up to spread over your eyes and your fingers rest on your temples, and you hitch a breath in. “What are we going to do?” You ask Mark with your just as trembling voice as if he would know. The question is not necessarily about this particular moment in time, but about the far future as well. He lets it linger in the air as his eyes switch between the two bodies.

“Well,” He clears his throat when his voice shakes violently and looks at you, his hands playing with the carpet, picking and tearing away. He chooses to ignore the far future, at least for now. “We’ll have to tell his parents first.”

The hand on your face falls down. You look at Mark, and he notices how wide your eyes are. He knows you cannot comprehend it by the way your eyes look, looking right through him with your shell shocked, hundred-yard stare. “No,” You whisper. “Mark, I can’t.”

“That’s fine,” He looks into your eyes with his own that are glazed over, and nods reassuringly. “I can.”

But it does not feel better. Instead, it makes you feel worse immediately, because you feel like you at least owe Johnny and his parents this. It makes you feel ashamed that you will not do even one thing about it, because you do not think you would ever be able to look into his parents’ eyes again; knowing you joked about it before he left and you were too unbothered to go out after him before you were ordered to do so. There is nothing in your heart, mind, or body, that tells you that you can do it without completely losing yourself in the process.

The two of you collect yourselves and come back to your senses as quickly as you can, because you knew Yuta and Jaehyun would be on you if you were any more late.

Mark helps you in carrying the bodies down the stairs which is an extremely tiring task considering you go down several floors, and the mental toll it has on you. The two of you unblock the fire exit door and push the metal drawers and organizers aside, opening the door and carrying them to the lobby.

Then, you head outside. Yuta and Jaehyun do not spot Mark and you until you get closer, but when they do, their brows immediately furrow. “We need two bags.” You mutter, feeling your chest stutter with the words. Their faces fall at that very second. The grip Yuta has on his map that he is holding tightens and his knuckles go white, and he sighs with utter disappointment. Knowing Yuta, it is at himself.

“One of them’s Johnny.”

The muscles on their faces relax only for their eyes to widen.

It takes a few hours for all of you to get back to the city once you put them in bags and start riding, not galloping nor trotting; deciding not to look for the others knowing it would take a longer time to get back and not wanting to stress out anyone in the city further. A night group could easily replace yours.

When you are at the gates the sun has long set. Questions arise once the gates open and the bags dragged by the horses are seen. You and Mark answer them since you are the ones who found them in that state, where you found them, which building, which floor, was there anything written around them, any symbols, any human spotted around the area— anything useful.

You give them the answers still in a daze, and let them take Anubis from your hand. Without waiting for anybody you start walking, on the way to your house.

Except, you do not end up in your house for a while. You wait in the dark, just around the corner leading to Johnny’s house and you watch Mark deliver the news to them. Although you cannot hear what he says to them, you can see it clearly with the light on their porch. How Mark delivers the news with his hands linked in the front, fiddling with his fingers a little as he looks at their expectant faces. How Johnny’s mother hugs into his father once she hears the situation, both of them shaking with sobs. How Mark’s shoulders drop and how he tries to console them, but stopping when Johnny’s mother does not take a step away from her husband and he waves at Mark presumably wanting some space and time alone to themselves.

You watch as Mark nods and leaves, and you head to your house. Hurrying into your backyard, you swing open the door and kick off your boots. Not bothering to put them in their place, you take your bag off your shoulders and the only reason that you do not let it fall onto the floor is because of the guns packed inside. Then, you make a move to take your coat off.

And the damn zipper gets stuck.

With a sigh, you force it down. But it does not budge. So you try again, but it will not move. You wait, nibble on your lips, give it time to change its mind: maybe it was frozen and it needed to thaw.

But when you try again, it just does not want to move down.

Pissed off, you try to strip out of the coat. But that proves to be almost harder. Everybody wears thin but warm, lightweight coats to make their movability better, especially outside. But moving your whole arm to yourself and then down while holding the two layers of clothes, one thick sweater and the thin coat on top of it was undoable— because then they were fully limiting your movement.

And you had to take it off. You need to take it off.

Your hands then start picking and grabbing at the coat trying to rip it off, and that is when your door opens without any alert beforehand and Jaehyun walks in.

“What are you doing?” He whispers and walks over to you near your couch. You only stop struggling when he stands in front of you. “I can’t get it off, it’s stuck.”

He notices how you will not look into his eyes in the dark, and he notices the tears streaming down your face that you probably are not realizing. “Okay.”

Jaehyun walks over to your bathroom and takes a bar of soap you have. He walks right back to you in complete silence and dabs at your zipper with the sleeves of his hoodie up and down to take off the excess moisture, and starts slathering on the soap along the zipper until its sharp corner has visibly softened and the zipper looks white with the coat of it. He then fumbles with the zipper for a few seconds before it slides right down.

It makes you feel a mixture of embarrassment and anger, and you sniffle, only then realizing that you are crying after feeling the wetness in your inhale. Your lips waver as you try not to let a sob out. “There you go.” He mumbles as he helps you out of the coat and places it on the arm of your couch. He picks your boots up and places them next to the door.

“Let’s wash your hands.” He suggests, and you look down at your hands, seeing the blood from that Runner.

Jaehyun is almost late to hold you once your face violently scrunches up and you start fully letting it out, shaking with choked sobs.

Because your crying does not subside for several minutes, he ends up going to the bathroom again and comes back with a couple of wet rags, soaping one up and cleaning your hands delicately before wiping them off. He leads you to your bed then and lets you lie down, pulls the cover up, and kneels down in front of your face. “Try to sleep, okay? Force yourself to if you need it.”

You nod at him, and let him leave after he smiles at you.

His eyes had looked empty, which was always the worst for Jaehyun.

The next morning you hear your door lightly opening in your sleep, and being carefully shut. A few steps make their way over to you slowly and the empty side of your bed sinks with a somewhat loud huff.

Whoever it is waits for a bit, lets you sleep a little more even though you are not deep in it. That goes on for a few minutes before your bed sinks closer to your back, and it sinks a bit less than before— an elbow.

Fingers start running through and playing with your hair. It must be Jaehyun. And you are right. “Taeyong let me and Donghyuck take over you and Mark’s work for a couple of days, so you don’t have to go in today.” He softly whispers, and you nod slightly. “How’d you know I wasn’t sleeping?” You ask in hopes of distracting yourself from the thoughts and views that race over your eyelids, and open your eyes when it does not exactly work out.

He answers with a slight smile. “Your lashes fluttered when I walked in.” You feel him place his chin on your shoulder. “You slept any?”

Gulping, you shake your head. “Just got some shut-eye.”

“That’s okay.” Jaehyun whispers. “Better than keeping your eyes open. I’m happy you got some sort of rest.”

He sighs and takes his hand off your hair then. “Yuta wants to see you and Mark eating so he’s preparing breakfast. I have to leave, but head out soon and try to eat for me. A few bites is all I’m asking for.”

“Okay.”

Porridge and bergamot tea.

The breakfast Yuta has prepared for you and Mark, with some dried plums and apples inside that he fried on the pan a little. It smells nice, looks less so.

There is no one to greet and welcome you initially when you are in front of his house that is on the same street as Johnny’s. But it does not matter because you barge in to avoid being seen by his parents, taking big strides from the start of the street. You hear the stir of the wooden spoon inside the metal pot, and the fruit that spills in while you make your way to the kitchen.

Mark is sitting at the island counter of Yuta’s kitchen with his elbow on the surface, his head leant against his hand.

Yuta turns away from the cream colored counters and his electric stove once he hears the footsteps. “Morning.”

You see Mark’s head only tilt a little, but not fully to the extent that he can look back at you. “Hey.” Your voice does not really come out, so you clear your throat. Yuta’s face falls a little at that. “Is there tension in your throat?”

“Yeah.” You sit down next to Mark. With your hands placed on the surface, you turn your head to look at him but his face is covered by his hand and arm. “There’s some powdered ginger you can take in the pantry. But you should try and relax your muscles first.”

With that he pours the porridge into the bowls he has taken out for you, and serves them with a slight smile on his face. Then he pours the hot tea inside two small jars and hands them out as well. “Dig up.”

It does not feel right. The atmosphere is too heavy, but you know you will not get out of it unless you really eat something, so you pick up the spoon and take a spoonful of the meal, gathering a piece of everything. Letting it steam for a few seconds as you watch it, you contemplate putting it in your mouth because ever since yesterday you feel this sickness in your stomach. It is more fragile than it ever could be on any given normal day.

Even so, you take a bite. At first it feels like you will throw up at the sheer hue of sweetness in it.

But you chew, and continue chewing, and you do not throw up.

“I heard you’re going out again today.” Mark mumbles, which makes you perk up, looking at Yuta. His eyes widen in the slightest. “I am,” He says, his eyes looking boringly only at Mark.

You chuckle drily. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Taeyong wants me there. He’s going out too.” His explanation does not calm your heart, which feels like it is being squeezed, at all. You turn back to your bowl and continue picking some porridge. Just to avoid his gaze.

Yuta does not say that he would come back or that he would be okay. Because he knows that those words do not hold any meaning to them whatsoever, especially now. “I have to go soon, so you should better be finished with these before I do. I’ll let you drink the tea by yourselves.”

Mark and you start eating in complete silence. Mostly because Yuta is watching you eat and it is extremely uncomfortable, and it would be awkward to just talk as if he was not there.

It makes you both rush your meals as well. The bowls empty out in a matter of minutes and your stomach feels heavy, though in all honesty, it was a pretty good breakfast Yuta had prepared for you. It was a fact that you would not have bothered to cook or even to prepare something that did not need to be cooked.

When the two of you are done with your meals, Yuta smiles and takes the bowls away to wash them quickly. Mark tries to intervene and says that Yuta could go out and he would take care of the dishes, but Yuta shuts him right up saying he needs the distraction anyway.

You can see Yuta’s hands shaking slightly.

It is always difficult to know for sure what he is feeling. But if you had to give it a shot, you would say he is feeling either anxious or shocked, or both. He is the type to live his emotions very secretively, and you could never recall an instance where Yuta’s grief was noticeable. Maybe only when he had lost one of his recruited, young survivors on the way back home. That had changed him as a whole; losing someone (especially much younger than him) under his responsibility.

He leaves once the bowls are washed, not looking at your way or telling you goodbye. You are simultaneously thankful and angry at him for doing that.

The bergamot tea is still steamy. It somewhat burns your hands when you put them around the jar to warm yourself up and start looking into the dark substance, looking so deep into it that you start feeling as if you are part of the dark liquid.

Mark clears his throat. “You’re wearing the same things as yesterday.”

That is true: even though there is nothing that you want more than to take them off and trash them to never see them again. But at the same time, there is something inside of you that does not want to let go of them. Even if it is just taking them off.

You look at the side of his face, and see him taking a sip from the jar. “Could you sleep?”

He shakes his head with a gulp. “No, no. You?”

The two of you make eye contact when he finally properly looks at you, and you shake your head as well. “I kept seeing it like a picture— like something projected at the backs of my eyelids.”

Mark nods, and that is it for a while. No one speaks for some time and you sip your beverages together as if it is a chore that you have to do, as if Yuta would see you two if you spill the tea into the drain of the sink and would come after you, trying to get done as quickly as possible so both of you could leave to be by yourselves. And it goes on until Mark decides to speak in a low voice. “They buried him early in the morning. His parents didn’t want anybody to see.”

Your eyes burn and the lump forms back in your throat because you can understand why they would not want anyone to see, but at the same time, you cannot. “Some of his older recruits left him flowers and letters, seeing that made me feel a bit better.”

You nod. “He deserves that.” And so much more. Despite yourself you smile slightly, and Mark joins in understandably grim, nodding. “He does.”

The day goes by extremely slow, yet so fast once you are back at your house.

You let yourself take refuge on the bed and do not move much throughout the day, trying to sleep. Expectedly, you are not too good at doing that. You toss and turn and huff and look up at the ceiling meaninglessly until you can no longer hear kids playing outside and the adults going about with their daily duties; until daylight loses all of its significance. Until you realize you have melted into this state of mind and have completely forgotten about your needs, using the toilet, eating, or drinking water.

Yesterday’s clothes are still on you. And you cannot bring yourself to change out of them, again, even though there is nothing in this world you want more than to never see them again.

The night would have not had any significance whatsoever as well if it was not for the sounds of hurried shuffles through the snow that were coming out of your room’s window at whoever knows o’clock. Before you could even show any type of physical response to it- whether it be surprise or suspicion- there were loud and hard knocks on your door.

It takes probably all of the strength you have in you to get up and walk to the door. You laze your way over to it and swing it open, rubbing your eyes.

You would have expected it to be Jaehyun, since he must have gotten done with his duties. But it was not him. It was Mark.

Mark, whose eyes and face were lit up with adrenaline. There is not a single emotion you can make out from the way his face looks. The world could actually be ending for all you know, or the community might have been getting raided.

You cannot make anything out from the way his voice sounds, either, when you hear him speak the millisecond after the door knob turns. “They found the trespassers.”

The look in his eyes- whatever it was, shifts into concern for a split second before he carries on with his words. “One of them’s the one Yuta left a note for, they were making their way over here when Yuta found them.”

Those words spark a light in your chest because of course. Of course they were the ones that caused this whole thing in the first place and it sounds stupid to you now that you had not even thought about them when you noticed the doors were open.

Which is because the doors at the nearer town were, in fact, closed while you were there.

Now it does not make sense. “Wh- how- that doesn’t make any sense. The doors were closed when we were out earlier.”

Mark shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess they got the theme by the time they were there. Yuta told me about the whole interrogation,” He chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head. “They claimed everything before they could even ask the questions.”

“Do they know they fucking killed people?” You ask, and Mark flinches at the harshness of the words. However, he nods promptly. “Yuta told them. They said they were sorry-”

It makes you laugh at the sheer comedy of it. “They were sorry? That doesn’t bring them back or make up for anything.”

“Nobody ever said it does-” Mark defends, but you are too angry at them to stop. “You know how fucking miraculous it is to survive twenty five years- the whole ordeal, especially when you go outside frequently. His parents pushed through thick and thicker with a newborn baby just to get to where they are now, to give him a damn chance at life and this is how Johnny goes? Because of someone else’s stupidity and inconsideration?” Shaking from anger, you wipe at your eyes that have gotten a little wet while your blow-up was going on. You gulp and shake your head, feeling the tension in your jaws. “They should save their apologies because not even a billion of them,” Faster than lightning, you hold a finger up in the air in between you and Mark. “Would make up for a single hair of Johnny’s that got hurt nor for a single tear of his parents.”

Mark, your poor friend and companion, only nods a little. He knows how you get when you are angry, and he knows how fed up you must be feeling, and he can see how tired and out-of-it you look, so he does not talk. He knows that if he were to say anything you would spill words from your mouth you would either regret saying or would only upset you more, and he did not want that to happen.

Though, Mark did have to say one thing. A part of the truth that would concern the two of you. “They’re from the Nox.”

He watches your eyes slowly widen. In a matter of seconds, you look awake and aware as if you did get all the sleep you had lost the past two days within those few moments. You lean your shoulder against the door for support or from the shock, he cannot be sure. “What?” You whisper.

Mark shifts from his place, the tips of his shoes touching your socks as he leans in much closer- most probably to drown his voice out. The neighbors should not hear more than what they might have already heard so far, even though you had been conversing in low tones. “From the headquarters,” He whispers, looking into your eyes. “They came to recruit people from this area. The others are with them.”

Your brows furrow with the oncoming nerves. “So there were more of them and they just joined?”

After a second’s hesitation, Mark nods. “Seems so.”

“Why would they?” Upon the question, Mark takes a deep breath and pushes his shoulders back much like a school kid being questioned on a topic they have not studied, and looks at the side. The yellow lights from other people’s windows hit his face as he nibbles on his bottom lip indecisively. When he turns back to face you, the lights still illuminating the right side of his face, he shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

Mark does not get surprised when you chuckle humorlessly. “Well I think it’s pathetic to run with people who’ve killed your own.”

It is quiet for a few seconds as he nibbles on his lip some more, but in the end something- that looked much like defeat- washes over him before he just nods a little. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Maybe five seconds of quiet before he speaks, looking down at his hands where his fingers are picking at scabs formed over his knuckles that seemed to be there every living day. “Um,” He swallows the words that would come after that at first, but he thinks, and thinks some more. It takes a couple of seconds, but he does decide to speak up. “You know what, nevermind. Maybe later.”

You get a bit taken aback but he cannot tell, because your brows are still furrowed a bit angrily and there is no other emotion over your face. “Do you know where Jaehyun is? He said he’d come straight after his duties.”

Mark’s mouth opens but no word leaves it. “He uh,” It closes and opens once again, his eyes widening a little. “He’s- he volunteered,” He clears his throat and looks down. “He volunteered for filiation.”

“Of what?” Your heartbeats have gotten significantly faster, stronger and heavier, but you cannot say if it is worry or the oncoming anger. “The trespassers’ base. Taeyong was looking for someone he could trust and he-,”

“Amazing,” You chuckle and shuffle on your feet, crossing your arms over your chest. “That’s amazing.” Mark sees you lower your head and your tongue swipe over your bottom lip as you smile bitterly, and when you raise your head back up, he can see the unshed liquid shine with the moonlight. “Why does nobody act responsible?” You whisper, and he sees the falter in your furrowed brows- the stutter.

But Mark knows you better.

He knows this is not how you truly think. He knows you out of all people want to move at the front, he knows you want that the most, and Mark knows you blame yourself for the things you are (in his opinion, rightfully) unable to do. He knows it is because you are scared. He knows you are terrified. Because it has been long, so long since either of you two have even gotten close to properly surviving outside and in all honesty: through these years of routinely going out for shorter periods of time and not having to dwell on things out of the gates, you two have grown accustomed to the feeling of homely safety. It really had felt like nothing and nobody would be able to reach you or anyone around you, even if it felt like it just inside the walls. The bubble of routine reality hidden in the much chaotic and unforgiving reality that was this community had slowly but surely implanted the expectation of seeing your loved ones get back home as if it was just a shift of a pre-apocalypse job- what they called 9-to-5.

And Mark knows this is almost like a reset, and that the sense of security and whatever this place has brought you feels like it is gone. He feels like it too.

Mark hates to see you this way. He hates to feel this way. He hates that Johnny was the one who had to go out of everyone, because he was the best of you.

But he knows he should take care of who he has left. In whatever way he can.

When he looks at you, the concerned look in his eyes from a few moments ago is back. “Have you slept any?”

You shake your head. “No.”

He nods as if he expected the murmured answer. “We’re going back to duties tomorrow, you need to sleep some.” Mark sees you chuckle just once and hears you mutter an ‘Easy to say.’ while tilting your gaze down, but he interrupts you by pointing inside, albeit a bit reluctantly. “Do you want me to help?”

“Would you?” He nods, the genuinity somehow visible from the way he does, and steps in gladly when you get away from the door and open it wide enough for him to walk in.

It had been long since the last time he had helped you sleep. It was a few years ago when you were on your own, having just separated from a group of survivors the two of you had become somewhat attached to. Their goals with life were much different than Mark’s and yours- two mere teenagers whose only wish was to not be much farther from home in hopes of reuniting with the people you had grown with.

Who could ever know that a little over three weeks of traveling on foot would already be too far from home, and too impossible to ever cross paths with? A miracle, really, ‘for kids your age’ (as people who were around the age of your parents would say).

Some nights the hopelessness and the feeling of never belonging to any group would take over you. Mark was the only person you could depend on, and you were the only person he could depend on. With how young you both were it was only natural that both of you had times where the cycle of hunger, loneliness, the paranoia of surviving and being infected, almost-dying but being saved, seeing the only person you depend on almost die but saving them, either being showered with love from other survivors or being hated for whatever reason, and getting left behind either way would get too much to deal with.

The two of you were camping overnight inside a completely empty water tower, warm and dark in the winter night- the last gift of the survivor group you had tagged along with had been an old map marked all over with safe and hopefully clear places to settle in. Plus the groups you should never encounter.

So he had done what he was doing right now. He made you lay down like right now, that time on the hard concrete and now on your kind of soft mattress that was slowly rotting away, knelt in front of you unlike in the past when he laid down beside you, started playing (more like softly scratching) with your hair and scalp because he knew it worked well to make you sleep, and sang in a low tone because he knew you loved it, and found comfort in it.

His voice sounds rougher than ever when he starts.

“Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life,” This song is much too familiar, and it is Mark’s favorite verse of it. It means so much to him, having been brought up with faith in a world he once stated he felt was ‘too far from it’.

“And I will dwell on this earth forevermore,” His voice is soothing and soft, even though you knew he preferred his rapping much better over his singing. “Said, I walk beside the still waters and they restore my soul,”

He stops a little to take a breath, an unnecessary one, yet heavy. “But I can’t walk on the path of the right because I’m wrong.”

Mark’s voice is working its charm- or maybe it is knowing you are not alone, you do not know. But your head was getting clouded and dazed with the sleep creeping up to take you over already. He, however, continues. “Well, I came upon a man at the top of a hill,”

His voice cracks a little. “Called himself the savior of the human race,”

Through the cloud of sleep, you try to reach him. Only mentally, but you try to reach him. You wanted to hear him until the end. “Said he come to save the world from destruction and pain, but I said ‘How can you save the world from itself?’”

You barely make it to the end of the line, only hearing a glimpse of his sporadic whistling.

When you open your eyes you see Johnny sitting down next to your hand laid in front of your face, hugging the pillow. He smiles down at you, ruffling your hair for a bit. The room is dim- only the wall lights are on. The environment is mostly dark, even Johnny’s face that is much closer to you than anything. You can still see him pretty well, though, in the dim, warm yellow lighting.

His clothes are relatively clean. A few stains and tears here and there, but nothing unusual. Him and his parents’ ways of doing laundry were always superior to many others. You wanted to learn how but Johnny said you would have to come and do it with them once to properly learn once you are out of the dorms. Sometimes he would offer to do your laundry for you when the queues and waiting periods of the laundry got too long in the dorms- it was easier to have problems with water at a rather small place where a lot of people lived, and when they got their clothes really dirty almost every single day while getting educated on survival skills and agriculture.

His face is bright. His eyes are puffy just the right amount; he looks energetic. His smile is of genuine fondness towards you, and it makes you smile as well.

“Sleeping too deep?” He asks quietly. The dorm room is unoccupied excluding the two of you; your roommate had gotten a bad cold and was kept in the small hospital ward. You shake your head at his question but the yawn you let out contradicts with the motion. “I was just taking a nap.”

Johnny nods and looks down for a second, sighing a little before looking back at you and slightly raising his hand which held a tea cloth, showing off the little pouch. “Eomma sent some cornbread. I brought some dried figs as well.”

Excitement washes over you, and you take the cloth out of his hand gratefully when he holds it out for you. Unable to hold yourself back, you break a small piece off of a slice of cornbread and happily put it inside your mouth- giggling in delight when you notice the fresh corn taste and the fluffy texture. Johnny chuckles at your reaction and coos only a little.

His smile dies down pretty fast despite its brightness just a moment ago. Which is unusual for him, who likes to stretch his smiles out for as long as he possibly could.

“Can I lie down?” He asks and points at the pillow reluctantly. You nod and scoot closer to the wall, arching your back a little and tilting your head back to secure the tea cloth of snacks inside the small, empty vase placed on the windowsill. It operated as a whatever-holder: sometimes it was actual flowers, sometimes it was small jewellery or gifts you had gotten on your birthdays, sometimes the very occasional letter from Mark even though he was just two buildings down, but usually it was snacks from Johnny.

He lies down next to you and does not bother to get under the blanket, placing his hands on his stomach as he looks at the ceiling. You watch his chest rise and fall three, maybe four times before he can start speaking. “Did you ever observe one?”

“An infected?” He hums at your question. You look at the ceiling and try to remember a time you might have but nothing resurfaces. “Not really. Was too busy trying to save my ass. Or Mark’s.”

“You never went outside before the raid?” Johnny asks, quite curious. You shake your head again even though you are not sure if he would see it. “Not never, but we were in school mostly. It was high up in an apartment so it was the safest place. I did not have to worry much about them until we were older.”

An exhausted sigh makes its way past your lips and it is not only because you are physically exhausted. “And then we ran.” Turning your head to the side to look at his face, you smile. “And now I’m in a different kind of school.” Calling the dormitories a school was simultaneously a far reach and not. It was mostly to train people to not be shenanigans until they became adults, and to be responsible with their duties and communal living once they were one.

A hand laid on his stomach reaches out for one of yours and he holds it, squeezing in a way that could not be described as tightly but rather, strongly. In a way that reassured you and calmed you down, in the way that made all your past worth the present. “You’ll get to be a Wanderer soon enough. Just a few months more.”

“I just like the idea of having my own place,” You chuckle as you shrug, acting like being a Wanderer was the least of your interests. “A bathroom all to myself, a less shitty bed and having the freedom to walk around whenever…”

“Just make sure you don’t forget about us when you get your luxury.” He smiles and looks at you, and you smile back at him devilishly. “I couldn’t if I wanted to,” At that, Johnny’s mouth drops open in surprise and happiness, but you cut him off before he can even start, playing your game further. “You see, unfortunately most people I consider friends in here aren’t peaceful, calm farmers or healers or-”

“Yeah, we all have a fucked-up liking of the outside,” He nods as he talks to himself, eyes slightly squinted. But he comes to his own rescue with a protest. “It’s not like anybody can blame us. Being lost in the old world is quite dreamy when there aren’t screeching mushrooms running around.”

It makes you laugh the way he addresses once-people back from the dead, even snort a little. It had been long since you had seen one. Young recruits, or recruits that basically were not at the age of maturity, were not allowed to go on patrols, research scouts, or sweeps unless it was absolutely necessary. From what Taeyong had told you the first time you ever stepped foot into the dorms and were told about the way things went around the city, it was to give people, especially teens, a chance.

A chance to live at least until the day they were considered adults.

“Speaking of,” Johnny’s smile dies down once more. He takes a big breath, and his chest rises with it, and he holds it there for a few seconds. When it is let out, it sounds sad more than anything. Maybe even a bit depressed. “When we were out on a patrol today with Taeyong, there was this small group of Runners at one of the checkpoints,”

He looks at you, but you do not say anything, so he continues. “So we were clearing the place out as we do, and I went upstairs while Taeyong stayed behind just to be safe. I went into the studio to write down the report,”

With that he turns his gaze back to the ceiling, scrunching his eyebrows slightly. “And there was this.. Runner, it- he didn’t hear or see me so I hid behind a table. But he wasn’t moving around, you know? Just standing at the same spot. It was very early stage, he had just turned. Maybe a couple of days ago, I don’t know,”

He starts fiddling with his fingers. “He looked around the same age as me, or maybe a bit younger. Wasn’t flimsy, didn’t look like he’d been starving- he just looked healthy otherwise. But as I looked at him and the way he flinched, the way his hands moved and his shoulders cramped; the way he grunted.. it sounded too human.”

There is silence for a second or so, but he picks his words right back up. “And his eyes- his eyes,” Johnny breathes, and the sound that comes from his nose sounds a bit too stuffed and wet to be normal. “They didn’t look completely empty. Not even meaningless.”

He looks down at his hands that are still fiddling, his lips hanging out a bit the way they did whenever he was sleepy or sad. Then, he nods a little, confirms whatever is going through his mind. “I think he was there,” His voice cracks and stutters. “Inside. Trapped and waiting until it consumed his brain whole. Trying to fight back as if it would be any help.”

“And I couldn’t help but think, as I shot him down,” He shrugs and shakes his head. “That I’d never want to be trapped in my own body and have to wait until I have no control over it, if it ever happened to me.” And he looks at you.

Johnny looks at you.

With his sad, brown, dark eyes. His empathy for the Runner and for his own self. He looks at you so deep, almost like he is frozen.

Because he is.

You reach out your hand to touch his arm, and find it to be extremely cold, and stiff.

He is gone.

You wake up breathless and almost shoot yourself out of your bed with the force you are sitting up. Mark is gone, and nobody else is there. You are completely alone. The sky is just turning a bit grey, signalling the coming of the morning.

Sighing, you try to relieve some of the pain in your jaws and chest; trying to forget the memory of Johnny that was now your nightmare. You had clenched up too much, it felt stiff everywhere. Now, your head was hurting too.

There is not a single drop of sleep left in you- even if there was, you hardly think you would be able to go back.

So you get up.

Walking to your closet in a hurry, you pick out some clothes in the dark. In all honesty you do not even know what you are picking, but it does not matter. There would be very few people outside at the dead of the night if at all, and you could not care less about how they thought your outfit was.

This felt like the only time you could actually visit him. You just wanted to be alone with him, and the silence.

Once you wear your coat you are already half outside. You shut your door as quietly as you possibly could in your hurry, which was undeniably a little loud even if it had been a reasonable time to leave your house, but it was not like people would care. Unless someone or something was screaming, nobody really cared.

From your house to the cemetery took around ten minutes of walking, which was a reasonable distance given how spread out this city was. How it came to be this big you did not exactly know. Johnny had told you sometime that the bigger series of stone buildings belonged to a winery- the wines would be fermented in the summer and then shipped out here in the fall to age before being sold, which was what his parents told to him. It made sense, because the stone buildings all had underground basements that were all connected, some of which were used as a hospital ward and some of which were used as a communal living space for people who did not really have families nor a role in the community like a Farmer, Wanderer or Sweeper. Basically for people who were deemed unqualified to have their own houses.

It kind of sucked, but then again, some people actually preferred being there. The director of the basements and dorms, this lovely woman called Sarwendah, had told you once that even though it was not the majority, some people found comfort in living with other people openly since it made them forget the reality of everything as long as they were in that bubble.

The wooden buildings were either built after the gates were built- which, the gates were built after the army claimed the zone to themselves at the start of the outbreak, whose control over the area for something around 11 years, Johnny remembered those times in his childhood- or they were the ones already built for the winery’s workers and their families.

Johnny. That bit of knowledge came from Johnny too, as well as many others.

And when you are in the cemetery walking through the graves, looking for his name and spotting it without much time passing, you see a silhouette standing right at the foot of the grave.

Who, upon walking closer, turns out to be Mark.

Who, also upon walking closer, seems to be fully equipped with bags and his gun.

“Why so equipped?” You ask, and it startles him, but he does turn around and watch you as you walk over to him. “You’re going outside to join Jaehyun?”

He clears his throat. “No, he got back,” There is a split second of silence that feels a bit too long in your confusion for how long it actually is. Mark rolls his shoulders back and takes a deep breath, lets it out, creating a rather long-lasting vapor. “But yeah, I’m going outside.”

“Where?” You ask further, and he visibly winces. He avoids the question to play with the stones around Johnny’s grave with his foot, nibbling on the inside of his mouth before mumbling. “I should’ve told you before but I couldn’t.”

Your brows furrow as a string is pulled at your heart with the suspicion and the piecing of things together. “What were you going to say?”

One more exhale, but this time sharp and clear-cut. Controlled. He looks at you, looks in your eyes, and tells you the words you would have never imagined he would. “They’re releasing the trespassers and I’m leaving with them.”

Everything kind of slows down at that moment if that is even possible with the lack of action-filled things around you. Shock, was it? Or utter betrayal? “I’m sorry?”

Mark takes a step closer to you and fully turns his body to face you, towering above you not so much with his height but more so with his body language. “They’re working on a vaccine. They trust what they’ve got in their hands and they’re traveling around recruiting people to guard the headquarters. They’re afraid someone might-”

It was all too much.

“Mark, what the fuck are you talking about?” You snarl, and it shuts him up effectively. Yet, after that, you do not say anything. You wait for him to explain himself and after a couple of overwhelmed inhales, he takes the opportunity. “I’m going there to work as a guard. They’re afraid of the possibility of someone stealing the samples, or worse, attacking the lab. They need every volunteer they can get right now.”

Anger.

Pure anger is what you are feeling, and it is indescribable. It covers you from head to toe, right to left, inside and out; it feels hot and yet, icy cold. “Johnny’s blood hasn’t even dried yet, and you’re leaving with the very people who caused his death?”

Mark looks taken aback. “Be sensible. They couldn’t have known about the doors, they’re the first group from the headquarters to come here in years. It’s life or death out there, and they probably didn’t have the time for details.”

You take a step closer to him as if it is possible, and hit his shoulder lightly. “How about you be a little sensible? How can you trust them so easily? What if they’re saying these just to recruit all those people- and to travel all the way through there-”

“They have a car. Takes three days.” Mark cuts in, which makes you chuckle humorlessly. “Okay, great. What if they just recruit you to use you as a scapegoat for when they encounter bandits? Or, like I said, they just recruit you to have more guards? The vaccine has been a word since forever, Mark, and we know it. It’s a stupid hopeless rumor.”

“I’m telling you, they have scientists and they have evidence-” Mark starts, but you cut him off. “Yes! But their people also raid towns, and these people themselves are inconsiderate enough to screw up our whole system and kill our friends along the way-” You are basically trying to make sense to him with your whole body, pointing at the grave and getting closer to him and looking at his eyes to make him regain some of his sense. Just enough to keep him here, where he should be. “How can you trust them with your own life when they’ve been so inconsiderate of the others’ time and time again? You walk out of here with them and the next thing you know, you’re dead, Mark.” You point to your left, which is the direction of the big gates where the trespassers must be leaving, as they need to leave under the Leaders’ watch.

He is silent upon that. It takes him a few moments to come up with the words he is going to say, and his eyes flicker around under the confused sunlight signalling the coming of the early morning.

But he comes up with them nonetheless. “I owe it to people and to him,” He points at the grave. “To do whatever part I can to end this someday. And if I need to go to great extents and forgive them, so be it.”

And with a determined gaze in his eyes you had never seen from Mark before, he says what he really thinks. “I’d rather die running after something I believe in than live with the shame every day.”

You understand.

Not him, but that he is going.

That maybe, he is already gone.

“You leave,” You look at the grave and bite the inside of your cheek before looking back at Mark. “And I’ll come looking after you.” You whisper.

He looks away and bites down on his lip, placing his hands on either side of his hips. And then, he shrugs, not even trying to think it through. “That’d be up to you.”

And he starts walking towards the left, leaving you at the cemetery.

For the first time, you are alone.

#NCT-WRITERS #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct mark #nct jaehyun #nct johnny #nct yuta #nct haechan #i'm so nervous tagging these because oh my god before i left only 5 tags could work for me #so i'm not gonna tag much #it's 4 am for me and i'm doing this instead of midterms. i deserve to be punished

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starchild--27 · 4 years

Text

Fall.

EXO - magical (record store)!AU (incl. Byun Baekhyun, Oh Sehun, Park Chanyeol, Kim Junmyeon [mentioned], Do Kyungsoo [mentioned], Zhang Yixing [mentioned])

S - part 1 / S - part 2 / F - part 3 / W - part 4

word count: 3330 (don’t even ask me how this happened, it took me ages to start writing at all and then to finish it. who would have thought this will have a thousand words more than the first part…)

I proudly present: part 3. Damn, this one was the hardest to write. But I did it, which means there will definitely be a fourth and final part. One for each season.

Please cheer for me, I’ve never finished any of my writings before xD Anyway, please enjoy this piece, I hope you like it - especially if you already liked the other two parts ^-^

special mentions: @kafkascupcake (without you this little series wouldn’t even exist) and @katjanara (who was the first person ever to ask me if i could tag her in these updates) - i hope I won’t disappoint you with this. Lots of love to you~

Fall didn’t knock on the metaphorical door first before he came to the city. It basically blew the door away with the storm it brought.

You moved your favourite place from the balcony to your sofa in the living room, exchanged light clothing and cooling drinks with warm hoodies and hot tea. The dark clouds hanging in the sky promised heavy rain, which you would actually enjoy if you didn’t have to go outside for grocery shopping. The mere thought of the wet cold that would enter your body starting from your fingertips and cheeks combined with the wind that howled outside didn’t exactly cause joy in you.

But you would have some friends over today and you told them not to bother shopping because you would take care of cooking something delicious. Something you wouldn’t have said if you knew that you would have to go shopping for some fresh vegetables in stormy weather. You tried to cheer yourself up with the thought that you will enjoy the cooking and the eating and the time with your friend and that going outside would be totally worth it in the end.

Putting on a raincoat and a beanie hat, you set your mind on only buying the food you would need for cooking a delicious soup. Nothing more. There was no need to stay out there for longer than necessary. This kind of weather definitely screamed “stay inside and watch something on Netflix” loudly and that was exactly what you had planned to do with your friends.

Throwing your keys into your backpack you left your apartment to step out, where fall immediately brushed your cheeks and kissed the tip of your nose with cold lips. With your hands buried deep in the pockets of your jacket you quickly walked towards the next bus stop. As much as you liked wandering through the town, with a grey sky and the wind constantly blowing your hair as well as little droplets of rain into your face, taking a walk wasn’t fun at all. Even the short distance to the bus stop made you shiver a bit, your body still accustomed to the warmth of your living room.

But you were lucky and the bus heading towards the general direction of the grocery store came quickly. You quietly sighed in relief when you noticed that the heating system of the vehicle was functioning properly and opened your jacket a bit after you sat down next to a window. With a growl of the engine the bus took off and carried you safely over the wet streets.

The little droplets that fell from the sky only a few minutes ago had turned into a pouring rain shower, so you could observe the thick raindrops running down on the glass of the window. You followed them with your eyes like they were part of a race only you watched.

Not really sure which drop had won, you lifted your gaze again, quickly figuring out how much time you had left until you had to get off the bus again. But it seemed like you were caught in a series of red traffic lights. Knowing well, that this trip to the store might take a bit more time, you leaned your head against the glass of the window, slightly vibrating with the stuttering of the bus’s engine.

You heard cars rushing over the crossroad, saw their headlights a bit blurry through the window, imagined where they might be heading on that stormy Saturday. Maybe they went home, maybe they were almost there, maybe they were only passing the town on a longer journey to a place far away from here.

Checking your environment again, you pressed the stop button to signal the driver you were going to get off at the next stop. Mentally, you prepared yourself for walking very fast and very straight towards the store without stumbling or slipping on the wet concrete. Then the bus stopped abruptly, the driver opening the back doors and you stepped into the cold again.

Your plan of getting to your destination quickly and safely worked out just fine but did nothing against the cold creeping along your skin once again. At least your pants didn’t get too wet from the rain.

At the store you grabbed a basket and recited your shopping list in your head. Vegetables first. Walking through the aisles of the store, you were so focused on not forgetting anything from your list that you didn’t recognize the familiar face next to you until the person called out your name. A little in shock you turned to where the voice came from only to meet the face of Baekhyun, the ever-happy florist from Flowery Friends.

After the first two visits you paid the shop, you quickly became a regular there. Nowhere else you found your spontaneous impulse-flower-buying needs as satisfied as in that shop. They offered such a vast variety of flowers, managed to treat them with so much care (you began to believe they had to be plant whisperers) and never failed to be nice and friendly towards their customers. Especially, when summertime brought a flood of customers to the shop their talent to deal with people and their amazing teamwork showed. You could observe multiple times how they took turns entertaining the waiting customers with iced tea, lemonade and fresh pastries Kyungsoo had brought by, guiding the people through the shop and managing the finances in the end, when everybody had found what they’ve been looking for. Every time you had come back home from the shop you felt a bit brighter and calmer than before, as if you were a freshly watered flower yourself.

“What a coincidence to meet you here, (y/n)! On a nice vegetable shopping trip? Sorry, if I startled you” Baekhyun greeted you with his usual bubbly spirit, glancing quickly at the basket you were carrying when he asked you his question.

“Oh, I really didn’t expect you there, but it’s fine. Actually, yes. I’ll be cooking for some friends today and I was missing some ingredients” you confirmed with a smile.

“Umm, let me guess - you plan on having some soup! What’s fall if not season of vegetables and soup…”

“Exactly” you grinned at him.

“Well, I was sent to buy some snacks for some friends who work not far from here. Basically, next door. They run a record store, have I told you about it already? Or maybe one of the guys from the café?”

You shook your head in confusion. Nobody had ever mentioned a record store to you. Baekhyun’s eyes widened in surprise.

“We have not?! Oh no, Sehun will be so mad…” he mumbled. “Hey, do you have a few minutes to spare when you’re done here? I have to introduce you to some friends of ours” he quickly asked then.

“Umm…”

“The flower shop, the café and their record store work very closely together, you have to know. We are a group of guys who know each other for a pretty long time and decided to make business together but couldn’t decide on what exactly. So, we just went with all three ideas we had.” Baekhyun interrupted you once again and met you with his brightest smile. There was no way you would be able to say no to his adorable excitement.

“Sure, go ahead, show me that record store. I just can’t stay for too long. My friends probably won’t like waiting in front of locked doors.”

“Yeah, yeah, no problem” the florist beamed at you.

Then you continued your shopping, Baekhyun telling you some anecdotes from the shop. Especially of Junmyeon, who couldn’t keep his funny (Baekhyun drew quotation marks in the air) jokes to himself even in front of customers. You giggled at the thought of that. You always found it endearing when the oldest florist cracked one of his jokes. It did a lot to the laid-back atmosphere of the shop. But as far as you could judge, Baekhyun would never admit this out loud, so you didn’t bother arguing.

Groceries paid and securely stowed away in your backpack, Baekhyun lead you through the rain, towards the place he wanted you to show while talking non-stop. Much about the guy, called Sehun apparently, who seemingly would be so mad hearing that he was the last one to get to know you.

“He can be so petty sometimes, really. Dramatic even. We got used to it though, so it’s alright.”

Still, you were wondering why these guys made such a fuss about your person after the first time you stepped into the little flower shop. They even made an incredibly delicious cake for your birthday (you didn’t even remember telling them that date) and that kind of special and extra-kind treatment was certainly not given to every of their customers … so why you? Because you didn’t expect them to give you the lavender bunches for free the first time you entered their shop and actually wanted to pay for them? You didn’t believe that.

For a moment you played with the thought of asking Baekhyun right away what the reason for their behaviour was, but you were interrupted by him declaring the two of you had reached the record store. You let your eyes take in the area for a moment.

You had definitely walked that street before – no small, secret alley as you had expected. There were shops looking familiar to you and even a bus stop you knew you got on and off plenty of times.

“Say Baekhyun, how long does that shop exist already?”

“As long as the other two. Why are you asking?”

“Because it never caught my eye before. I’ve been here multiple times and don’t remember seeing a record store here.”

“Oh, that’s because Chanyeol had the genius idea to rent basement rooms for their shop. You see, those windows here?” He pointed towards the lower part of the brick stone building you stood in front of. “Perfect view on the interiors of the shop. Quote by Chanyeol. He also says that basement rooms have the perfect atmosphere for record stores. But you’ve just proven my theory that nobody will ever notice the shop even exists.”

He sighed. “Anyway, follow me, you are about to enter the probably best-hidden heaven of music.”

You just assumed that Chanyeol must be another person of their group you haven’t met yet.

Baekhyun led you down a small staircase (well, at least you had noticed that one before) and showed you the entrance of the shop. The door reminded you of Flowery Friends. It was a wooden door as well, painted yellow with a handwritten label saying SC Records in messy letters coloured red and green.

“Maybe they should put a sign with their shop name somewhere upstairs? You can’t really miss these colours, people should just get the chance to actually see them” you thought out loud.

“Yeah, I hope, they are at least working on that.”

With these words he gave the door a push and signalized you to follow him inside, where you stood still for a moment. The plain, cold, brick stone walls were decorated with countless records, cover sleeves, instruments and some lamps, shining a warm light on the shelves lining up in all possible shapes and sizes, filled to the brim with records.

You recognized enough of covers on the walls to get a rough idea of where the different music genres were located. Excitement bubbled up in you and you were quick to put your wet jacket on the coat stand near the shop entrance so you wouldn’t damage any of the cover sleeves with the wetness from the stormy weather reigning outside. You were happy as well to have a chance to free your body from the wet piece of clothing and warm up a bit in the comfortable warmth of the store.

Only now you noticed that Baekhyun had vanished from your side, probably off to find his friends, the owners of the shop. You had no idea which one of the doors at the back of the shop he had taken so you just decided to stay in the main room first, strolling through the genres, taking a closer look at the records.

You came across musicians and groups you’ve heard and read about before, some of your favourite LPs from different decades but also names you’ve never heard about before. On many of the covers you found sticky notes with quick descriptions of the music style and recommendations for artists with similar sounds. Well, that was some cute and carefully done work.

Now you knew what you should check out if you want to listen to music with “bass lines that’ll give you a nice cerebrum massage” or “the s i c k e s t guitar riffs”. You hoped you could keep some of the names in mind.

“Hey, lavender girl, come over here for a second!”

You giggled at the nickname Baekhyun had just used. That one didn’t come up for a longer time now, but nice that it was still remembered. Lifting your head from the shelf you were just checking out, you saw him at the backdoor in the middle, pointing at the room he just peeked out from, where you met the two tall guys that introduced themselves as Chanyeol, who smiled like the Cheshire cat while waving at you, and Sehun, who was “delighted (he sent a dirty look at Baekhyun here) to finally (another dirty look) meet you”.

While Baekhyun just rolled his eyes at his behaviour, you subtly covered your giggle with a hand in front of your mouth. This bickering was more cute than offending and Baekhyun’s description of a “spoiled kid” suddenly made very much sense to you.

“By the way, y/n also thinks that nobody will ever discover your shop” Baekhyun teased with his characteristic cheeky grin.

“Not true. I know, because people already have discovered our shop. Where is the fun when everybody can just see where the shop is? It’s so much more special and exciting when word about that super-cool, hidden record store has to get around first.”

By the tone in Chanyeol’s voice and the sparks lighting in his eyes, you could tell that there was most likely nothing that could change his mind on that.

“But you know that the initial idea behind the shop was to make profit, not to create a hide-and-seek-game for music geeks!”

“Come on, Baekhyun, you sound like Junmyeon now. Don’t pretend you wouldn’t love the adventure of discovering a great record store you’ve only heard rumours about before!”

Even with your superficial knowledge of Baekhyun you knew that Chanyeol was probably right.

“Yes, but at least I understand Junmyeon’s point!”

“I do too, I just don’t particularly care.”

“You are impossible!”

“Yeah, you knew that before.”

Defeated Baekhyun let out a little huff.

“Anyway, I still need a present for Yixing’s birthday. Somehow, Junmyeon teamed up with Minseok and Jongdae to get something for him together this year. Do you guys have anything besides new guitar strings I could get him?”

“Oh, it’s Yixing’s birthday soon?” you chimed back in the conversation, former discussion, that you’ve been watching with great amusement. This was actually the first time you heard about the birthday of any of the guys and you’ve been dying to somehow return the favour of a birthday present, since the cake they had prepared for you.

“Right, the party is on October 7 at the café. Feel free to join, I’m sure Yixing will be happy to see you there” Baekhyun confirmed.

“I’ll be sure to make an appearance” you promised and developed the idea of using your drawing and painting skills for a self-made gift right away. Maybe something with a floral theme would be fitting? But before you could get too much into your thoughts, Chanyeol approached you again.

“And… have you found anything interesting here yet?”

“Sure. And I love the little descriptions! They make everything sound interesting” you admitted.

“I wrote most of them, so thank you!” he grinned.

“Feel free to check out some records you’re interested in. You’ll find record players all around the shop. Sehun will show you, while I outline our birthday present plan to Baekhyun so he can join us in the preparations” Chanyeol added, before leaving with Baekhyun to a room even more in the back.

Sehun, who didn’t seem to be as talkative as his friends that just left, cleared his throat.

“Well… lead the way, I’ll be your shadow. I can also answer some questions if you have any.”

“Sounds good!” you smiled at him and walked into the main room of the store again, pointing at records you wanted to give a listen to, asking questions about the group or if you didn’t knew what some genres with the most unusual titles even sounded like.

By giving you tips and answers Sehun started to open up more and more towards you as well and the two of you fell into a light conversation about music, cover art and anything else that came to your minds. After what felt like only ten minutes to you but was actually more than an hour already, you were pretty sure you’d find Christmas presents for every person you knew the music taste of in here. You had just asked Sehun for paper and pencil and made a list which records to purchase, when your gaze fell on the clock on the wall and you realized how late it was.

Your friends had probably not arrived yet but your plan to be done with cooking when they would arrive was definitely ruined now.

“I’m so sorry for not buying anything, I will come back very soon. I promise. But I really have to go home now and at least start preparing the food for my friends and me. It was really nice getting to know your shop and you guys, Sehun. Please also tell Chanyeol, ok?” you said while hurriedly putting on your still clammy coat.

Mentally cursing yourself for being so easily persuaded to follow Baekhyun here, you closed the yellow door behind you. You should have known that this shop would have the same effect as the other two on you, keeping you close like a magnet.

Fortunately, it didn’t rain anymore. In fact, the storm itself seemed to have passed entirely, only leaving a slight breeze and the smell of rain in the air behind.

You spared one last gaze to the windows of the shop, where you spotted Sehun looking outside the window, right towards you with a somehow satisfied seeming smile. You waved at him one last time before turning around, making your way to the bus stop that would get you home the quickest.

During the ride you felt a bit guilty for leaving Chanyeol and Baekhyun behind without a proper goodbye. You would definitely apologize to them at Yixing’s birthday party. And then buy every Christmas present at the record store. Planning gifts had never been easier.

After another look at the time and a look on the streets where the traffic was even worse than before you decided to call one of your friends, informing them, that you lost track of time and would be home a bit later than planned.

“Hey there. I’m sorry, but I’m only on my way back home now, so please don’t hurry to get to my place. … Yeah, the traffic is horrible. I guess the storm must have messed things up quite a bit. … Oh, I discovered that super-cool record store, pretty close to the grocery store. Very hidden, you really have to look for it to find the entrance. But it’s so worth it, I promise. It was so special and exciting, like an adventure…”

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balmacedapascal-archive · 4 years

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kissed by fire | osferth & astrid | 5/?

summary: osferth had looked forward to join uhtred and his men at coccham. what he hadn’t anticipated was to be so taken by lady gisela’s right hand woman. a/n: hey there everybody. i know it’s been a couple days now since i’ve updated but between work and a lack of inspiration i’ve been struggling to get words on a page. but it’s finally happened and it’s my longest chapter yet so hopefully that will make up for things. anywho, here’s the next bit, hope you guys like it!

Osferth isn’t sure if he’s happy to be back in Winchester because he’s missed his old home or if he’s simply that he survived the battle at Beamfleot but there is a sense of relief sitting in Father Beocca’s home and listening to older man tells stories about Lord Uhtred as a child. It’s been three days since they had returned in the company of the princess and the armies of Wessex and more than anything there’d been celebrations. Finan has spent more time in the ale houses than anywhere else and Sihtric would’ve been off chasing his bride to be if he hadn’t been sent back to Coccham to retrieve Lady Gisela. There had been talk that they might be staying here for a while and it seemed Lord Uhtred didn’t want his wife away from him that long.

He’s been dragged off to an ale house or two by the Irishman but for the most part he’s stayed clear of them. There’s still plenty of people there who remember him, remember his mother, remember what people would say about her and her time serving the king and queen. After the peace of Coccham he doesn’t have much desire to hear any more of it. So he stays at Father Beocca’s. The older priest is a kind man, kinder than many of the other men of the church he’s known. He and his wife - another red headed Dane, though more timid than the one back in Coccham - have been more hospitable than he could’ve possibly hoped for.

“Are you certain there isn’t something I could do to help, m’lady?” he asks, watching as Thyra moves about the small house preparing something for dinner. It’s not the first offer he has made and just like each time before she waves him off with a kind smile.

“I’ve told you, Osferth, I’m not a lady and you are a guest in our home. You do not have to help.”

He has half a mind to argue, to do something other than sit there being useless when the door opens and Sihtric steps in, followed by not one but two women from Coccham. He almost knocks over his drink in surprise, sitting up a bit straight at the small table as he watches Astrid go over to hug Thyra. Thankfully, the only one who seems to notice is Lady Gisela, who simply gives him a warm smile and says hello before joining the women. He watches the three of them interact, all bright smiles and fond embraces and happy chatter like a family reuniting after spending too long apart. Tearing his gaze away after a moment, he joins Sihtric, who’s still standing near the door, and says, “I didn’t - I wasn’t expecting the both of them to come.”

“She wasn’t going to,” Sihtric replies, glancing at Osferth before back to the women. “She hates it here but Gisela wanted her to come.”

“Hates it? Why does she hate it?”

Sihtric claps him on the shoulder, heavy hand hitting in a rough but friendly gesture he’s grown accustomed to. “That’s something you’ll just have to ask her for yourself. You survived battle. I think you can handle your lady love, baby monk.” Osferth feels his face heating up as he shoves at Sihtric’s shoulder, doing little more than making the other man laugh. The women looked their way in curiosity and thankfully all Sihtric says to them is, “If you won’t be needing me, lady, I’ll be going to see Ealhswith.”

“Enjoy your time with her, Sihtric,” Gisela replies, a warm smile from the lady of Coccham and with one last smile Sihtric is gone and Osferth isn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Maybe he is better off joining Finan at the ale house while the women catch up.

* * * * *

It’s been several hours since the sun went down and her friends retired for the night but Astrid is still awake, wishing she was back in Coccham and dealing with the quiet life of her village. It’s been three years since she last came to Winchester but she’d gladly stay away from King Alfred’s court for several more. Her memories of her time spent at the palace while she and Gisela had waited for Uhtred to return from Northumbria had been less than pleasant. After months spent under the careful watch of Lady Aelswith and the Christian priests, she had never felt more out of place or more unwelcome in her life. Not even the realization that Gisela was with child could raise her spirit back to what it had been back in Cumbraland. She’d been thrilled when Uhtred had returned with Finan and Sihtric and even more so when she found out they would not be staying at Alfred's court, leaving to make Coccham their new home. And if it wasn’t for the fact that it had been a year since the last time Thyra had come to visit them in their village, she would’ve been able to refuse Gisela’s insistence that she join them. But here she was, restless and eager to return home as quickly as possible.

Her attention turns to the door of the small house as it opens, a little surprised to see Osferth coming in looking a bit sheepish at the noise the door had made. He had disappeared a few hours earlier, not long after Sihtric had run off in search of his love, and she’s surprised to see him back. More often than not, when the men have gone out for the night, she can still find them at the ale house the next morning. But he’s here, looking only slightly unsteady on his feet and no more flushed than he usually is when she sees him.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you, m’lady,” he says after a moment, closing the door more carefully than it was opened. She watches him from her spot by the small fire, a blanket covering her lap as her hands pull at the spot where frayed threads have started to come apart. He glances around the room, almost piecing together the time and where everyone else is before he comes over to where she’s sat. It’s quiet between them for a few minutes, her watching him as he adds more wood to the fire and brings more light with the flames. He sits back, watching the fire before glancing at her and asking, “Why are you still awake?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. They’ve been talking for weeks, short and somewhat terse conversations growing longer and more open as time goes on. She’s not sure she would call them friends - there’s so few that she would call friend that it’s not a title she grants easily - but she’s grown more comfortable with him. He’s been patiently pestering her with his inquiries about her life before Coccham and her childhood in the north and how she and Gisela came to meet Uhtred. But she still hesitates around him, still feels unsure expressing her dislike of the Saxons in Winchester to a Saxon who had lived here before. Carefully, she tells him, “I don’t sleep well away from home. And Winchester has never been home.”

He’s quiet for a stretch, eyes watching her curiously in a way that makes her cheeks feel a little flush as she turns her own gaze away. What he finally says, voice lower and with some emotion she can’t quite place, is “I don’t believe you are alone in that feeling, m’lady. It can be hard to feel at home in Winchester even if you’ve lived here your whole life.”

This time, she finds herself asking questions of him, her own curiosity and a need for something other than silence pushing her forward. “Did you spend all of your life here? Before you came to Coccham?”

He nods, the cross hanging around his neck moving with the motion of his head. “Spent all my life in one room next door to an ale house and after...after my mother passed the brothers at the monastery took me in. Stayed there till I met Lord Uhtred and - well, you know the rest.”

She remembers his words when she had told him about her own mother’s passing and now recognizes the look that had been in his eyes. That sadness that could only be felt by someone who knew the loss as well. She has half a mind to reach out and comfort him but her hands stay where they are, fingers continuing to pull at threads. “And your father?”

That question, the quiet words barely heard over the crackle of the fire, brings a tension to his shoulders that she’s never seen before. For all the time she’s known Osferth he’s been a rather lighthearted man. The only times she thinks she’s seen anything resembling anger or frustration have been when Finan has been pestering him with joke after joke, the Irishman’s taunts never seeming to stop. But this is different. This isn’t the friendly annoyance at one joke too many. This is a topic that’s left him stiff and stern looking. The frown ages him and suddenly he seems less like the baby monk he’s so often called.

“The king doesn’t often have time to look to his bastard son.”

His tone is even, words come out carefully, as he speaks them into existence. She can see his hand clench for a moment into a fist before he flattens it back out, palm pressing into worn material of the priest robes he wears. She knows there’s a look of shock on her own face as she watches him, knows her must be wide in surprise at what he’s said but she can’t help it. “Alfred’s your father.” It’s not a question, though she can’t say she sees much resemblance between him and the king she’s met a handful of times. No, she doesn’t see much of the man who lives in the palace but she’d sooner swallow her own tongue than call Osferth a liar. It’s not in his nature, that much she knows.

She’s surprised when he continues on, surprised that he seems willing to tell her more about this part of his life. “Don’t know if you could call him much of a father. I didn’t properly meet him until after my mother - not till I was at the monastery. And even then, we didn’t - he didn’t say anything about it to me. Everyone who lived near us knew. People love to whisper about the girl who’d gotten herself in trouble with the newly married prince but he’d never - he wasn’t a father to me. My uncle did more in the way of doing what a father should when I was growing up. He’s the one that mattered.”

“He was a warrior? The one who fought alongside Uhtred at Ethandun?”

A smile appears on his lips and some of the tension seems to leave his shoulders. There’s fondness in his eyes as he says, “Leofric. That was his name. Fiercest warrior you’d ever find in Wessex. Just don’t tell Lord Uhtred I said that.” She can’t help the quiet laugh that slips out at his words and more of the tension fades at the sound. “He was older than my mother. Lived with us when he wasn’t off fighting battles or carrying out the king’s commands. He served King Aethelred till he died and then Alfred once he was crowned. Don’t think he cared much for that change but he did his duty all the same.” There’s another pause as he takes a deep breath, shoulders relaxing as he leans forward a bit to stir the fire. The orange and red from the flames flicker across his face and she can’t seem to pull her gaze away. “I want to honor him. Make him proud of me. If there’s one person in this world I want to be proud of me, it’s him.”

There’s a knot in her stomach at his words, the honesty and sincerity in his voice pulling at something she can’t quite place. They’re both quiet after that, the crackling fire filling the space between them that’s more comfortable than it’s been in the past. Softly, she finally says, “Alfred may be king, but he’s a poorer man for not having you in his life, Osferth. That loss is his and not yours.”

His name comes out without her even realizing it but the use is not lost on him and he’s smiling at her in surprise, a happy surprise it seems. She waits for him to comment on the change. She’s spent so long simply calling him priest that she wouldn’t be surprised if made an ordeal of the change. Finan certainly would. But he doesn’t. The smile stays on his lips, a look as warm as the fire they’re sitting by, and he simply says, “Thank you, Astrid.”

And then the house is quiet once more, the two of them staying by the fire in a pleasant silence until he’s dozing off on the floor and she can see hints of the dawn coming through the window.

tagging: @pokeasleepingsmaug @kirstenseas @skatingthinandice @beowulfsdottir @astral-finan @omg-m-o-o-n-y @surityne

#the last kingdom #tlk fanfiction #the last kingdom fanfic #osferth #kissedbyfire #*mine #it took me ages but i finally did it #hope you like it #let me know what you think #my babies are making progress

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jamiebluewind · 4 years

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UPDATE

I'm recovering from being sick and doing okay. Just still tired from it. Unfortunately, the novel coronavirus is now spreading in my area and between my asthma and compromised immune system... yeah. Not the best time to be me. I'm staying safe and following guidelines. Currently staying with my friends because living in a place where someone else can do the shopping, care for me if I get sick, and notice symptoms when they're mild so I can do things to help sooner (I sometimes cough with my asthma, so I just don't notice when I do anymore) outweighs the risk of being near a few people (who are all also following precautions). Danny (my cat) is also here and being a snuggle butt as well as having a blast hanging out with his best friend, Koshka.

***

As a reminder to everyone, here is what you need to do in order to stay safe. Yes they are important now, but these rules should be followed for ANY sickness. A normal cold for you could send someone like me to the emergency room, so keep that in mind. They are especially important for pandemics like the novel coronavirus because slowing the spread will keep the healthcare system from becoming overwhelmed. If everybody gets sick at the same time, there will not be enough medical staff to care for the sick (rather they are sick with the virus or having a heart attack). I know that sounds scary, but that's just worse case. As long as most of us do our best, we can indirectly save lives and help our overworked medical professionals.

Wash your hands with soap regularly. Do it for about 20 seconds (or about how long it would take to sing Happy Birthday twice). It is especially important before and after leaving the house, before and after you go to the bathroom or clean up a diaper (your nose isn't the only mucus membrane on your body yall), before handing food/eating, before/during/after preparing food, and before and after you will be in contact other people (so if you visit friends, wash your hands when you arrive and beforeyou leave). The novel coronavirus is actually a mutated (and more dangerous) form of one of the viruses that causes the cold (most are rhinovirus, but about 20-30% of what we know as the cold is the normal form of the coronavirus) and thus reacts the same way to soap. The soap attaches to the virus. Since the soap is hydrophilic (water loving), it will rinse off your hands and down the drain. Any soap will do, but try to avoid ones that are very drying or have irritating ingredients (especially since you'll be washing your hands often). Hand sanitizer (at least 60% alcohol) will make the virus become dormant, but wont get it off your hands, so it's good for certain situations.

Avoid touching your face. The virus gets in through those mucus membranes, so keep dirty hands away! We all make mistakes (especially while distracted), but try your best. If you are prone to fidgeting (or touching your face in general), keep an easily/regularly cleaned and disinfected fidget toy nearby.

If you are sick, wear a mask! While people who aren't sick really don't benefit by wearing a mask, sick people wearing one greatly helps reduce the spread of the virus (especially via droplets from sneezing/coughing). I have been told that you can actually reuse a paper one for a while as long as the barrier is in tack, but I advise you to do your own due diligence and check to be sure. The only other time to throw on a mask is if you are in the presence of someone who is sick OR if you were exposed to someone with a confirmed case within the last two weeks. This is especially important while masks are in short supply. If you need a reminder to not touch your face, a sheer scarf or a simple homemade mask made from breathable cotton material can help. The homemade mask also has the added benefit of blocking about 50 to 70% of outgoing droplets (depending on material and the study looked at) which (while far lower than actual surgical masks) is better than nothing if no real masks are available.

Eat well, take meds, and do normal self care to insure that your body and immune system are in good shape for if and when you get sick. Starting off stressed, malnourished, in medication withdrawal, and ill rested will increase the likelyhood of complications.

Keep things on hand that will keep your hands busy and clean/disinfect them regularly (remember, it's fairly easy to touch your phone/fidget with dirty hands, wash your hands, and then pick up your still dirty phone/fidget). Busy hands will help lower the risk of accidental face touching or touching/tapping random objects. There are a large variety of fidgets out there (there's more than fidget spinners yall!), so research a few different types to try (like visual, tactile, resistance, auditory, chewing, weighted, and puzzles). If you are a nail biter/picker, you might need some extra help keeping your hands away from your face (or splitting a cuticle/biting into the quick). Wear gloves if you have any splits or cuts (they might also help keep hands away from the face), consider painting your nails (asthma safe polish if you have it) to help remind you not to bite, keep gum on hand, use a fidget when the urge hits, and keep nails short so nails wont get on your nerves or tempt you as bad. Use a fidget chewer other than gum only if you are sure you can keep it disinfected.

Don't go to crowded places if you can't help it (especially while contagious), but if you have to, follow the above rules, don't shake hands, and limit contact with other people as best as you can. Try not to go to the store just because you are out of one thing. Keep yourself and others safe.

Try to keep enough supplies on hand to last a couple weeks so if you do get sick, you can isolate yourself. That includes things like food, drinks (like tea which when mixed with honey is quite soothing for a sore throat), bathroom supplies, medications (both over the counter and prescription), paper products (tissues, toilet paper, and paper towels), pet supplies, stuff to keep your home clean (like cleaning supplies, dishwashing liquid, laundry detergent, and trash bags), and (if you live with others) disposable dishes (like paper plates, plastic/paper cups, and plastic utensils you can just throw away in a bag in your room).

There are a lot of scams out there and a lot of fake information, so remember to stay safe and research claims. Staying hydrated is important for your health and immune system, but drinking water every 15 minutes to flush the virus into your stomach to kill it is a false claim. Another false claim is holding your breath for 10 to 15 seconds (to see if you have any difficulty or start coughing) to test if you have the virus and might cause people with the virus to unknowingly spread/contract it by not taking normal precautions. There is currently no cure for the virus at this time, but there are plenty of con artists who will lie to you to make money either via product sales or ad revenue, so check the CDC for updates and countermeasures instead.

As a side note, try to get your information from reputable sources. A lot of places are heavy into fear mongering and clickbait. The CDC has good information. If you like YouTube, Doctor Mike tends to put out solid videos on it that aren't difficult for non-medical professionals to understand (I also like Philip Defranco and consider him a good source of up to date information, but despite linking sources, he is not a doctor and also covers the news, so make sure to double check). Here is an example of a video by Doctor Mike.

youtube

#coronavirus #covid-19 #bluewind talks #tips #health tips #doctor mike

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spookyold-saintjm · 4 years

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I [Don’t] Wanna Be Free - Part 4

AHWM Yancy x female reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 5

Warnings: Swearing, violence, mentions of death, and shit that just doesn’t make sense sometimes because that’s how the AHWM world operates. ~just some angsty fluff~

Summary: You left Yancy behind and it’s tearing you apart. Yancy might consider life outside the bars, only for you. And Mark doesn’t know you have the box. You’re going to make some stupid decisions.

A/N: Holy hell, thanks to everyone who’s been keeping up with this! Sorry for the delay in updating. This one’s a little longer, and is also the next to last part in this little series! Thanks for reading friends.

_______________________________________________________________________

Weeks passed and you continued to visit Yancy at the penitentiary. Some nights you would take walks outside around the yard, or have a late night picnic with snacks Yancy was able to gather over time or that you were able to carry along. He was quite the talker, and had story after story of all his adventures (although it somewhat pained you to hear him consider his prison activities “adventures”) over the last several years. It was easy for you to see why everyone was drawn to him and how he’d become a natural leader. You weren’t one for many words, so it was a balance.

He didn’t talk much about anything before he’d been put behind bars, mostly because he said he’d been there so long he didn’t remember much. He said it wasn’t worth remembering, he’d said once, anyways. He didn’t really ask about your past, either, but you agreed your story was much the same. He didn’t seem to care much that you were still an active criminal, although you could swear you saw relief wash over him when you admitted you hadn’t killed anyone...at least, not intentionally.

Other nights, after a friendly and only minimally threatening discussion with Yancy’s cell-mate to keep quiet or else, the two of you would sit together on his bunk and read under the glow of tiny book lights that you’d bring along. You brought him scripts to different plays and productions that you could scrounge up, and fantasy novels for yourself. He’d tried to read one of yours once but had gotten hilariously frustrated because he couldn’t understand anything that was going on.

When your eyes got tired, the two of you would sit in silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. You’d rest your head in his lap or vice-versa, drinking in every moment of time you had together. Eventually, you’d worked up the courage to run your fingers through his dark hair while you spent these moments in silence, and in turn he would hold your other hand and rest against you as if you were the only two people left in the world.

Outside of Mark and the occasional people the two of you had regularly hired for various missions in the past, you didn’t really have established relationships with other people. The nature of your work didn’t exactly allow it. That, and there wasn’t really anyone you wanted to let in. Not anymore.

So, the peculiarity of the connection you and Yancy seemed to have, the fact that you, oddly, felt okay with him, was a mystery to you. It seemed to you that Yancy had similar thoughts. You never explicitly discussed it with each other, but it was a silent agreement. A silent promise to, at least for the couple short hours that you were allotted, give each other an anchor to feel somewhere to belong.

It took everything Yancy had not to talk about your time together to his prison family. Sometimes he’d let a thought about you slip out loud, saying you would have liked a particular number they were working on, or that someone in a film they would watch on movie night reminded him of you. He didn’t see the other inmates give each other passing glances, knowing that Yancy was considering the possibility of parole, because of you. But they weren’t confident in his ability to follow through with it, especially when he’d gotten in yet another fight, and a couple of them had overheard when the warden, despite the anger management classes, the time in solitary, and the years spent without seeing even a glimpse of the outside world, had called him “a lost cause.”

Since the night you’d escaped, you never pressed Yancy further about leaving. He wouldn’t go until he was ready, and you knew nothing would change that. So you chose to simply be there with him, for him, and silently hope that one day it wouldn’t have to be in secret.

But on the outside, things were getting more challenging for you. Mark still believed the warden had the box locked up in a high security vault deeper in the prison than you’d been able to access before. And plans had been all but finalized for the mission to get it back.

You didn’t know why you hadn’t told him you’d had it all along…but there was an creeping feeling in your gut that had told you it was a bad idea. It would have been so much easier, but it was too late to go back on it. He wouldn’t trust you anymore if you told him now…and despite his typically happy-go-lucky exterior, having Mark distrust you was a position no one wanted to be in.

However, he had been concerned about your behavior as of late; you had been more distant in meetings and were away much more often than before…no one knew about your visits with Yancy. And you hadn’t realized how much the very idea of him had consumed so much of your waking thought.

“Hey, y/n!” Mark stopped you one day as you were walking down the hall at base, on your way home. “I wanted to talk to you.” He clapped a hand on your shoulder, “You’ve been a little…off lately. What’s going on, buddy?”

You claimed you weren’t quite sure what he meant, and he chuckled nervously. “Well, for starters, you uhh almost choked one of our hires to death? And then you almost cut another’s hand off? Not to mention the day you almost stuck a fork in my eye, it’s been a few years since you tried that one..”

You ran all the possible ways you could respond through your mind in the seconds it takes to seem to think on it and let out a dramatically heavy sigh. Yeah, you had some “personal" stuff going on, you supposed.

“Ohh, I bet this is about a man, then, huh??” Mark asked, shaking your shoulder a little. “Or, woman, maybe?? Either way, that’s exciting!! I mean, not exciting that you’re having troubles but, well, oh you knowI LOVE some good relationship drama.” He was practically bouncing in excitement.

You feigned embarrassment and swiped his hand off your shoulder, telling him to fuck off.

Mark feigned offense at your words, making you roll your eyes and crack a smile in response. “Well,” he said carefully, "if it’s making you that angry, maybe you should break it off. Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing you duke it out with everybody like you did in the old days, but you gotta admit it’s not good for our…job turnover.”

You shook your head. It wasn't quite that simple, you'd admit. But you’d try to do better at checking your emotions when it came to matters at base.

Mark nodded in approval. “Great. Good. Yeah. Well, I’ll see you around, okay? Tomorrow’s the big day, uh well, night!” He patted your back in excited encouragement before heading off to his destination, leaving you to stand alone in the hall with your stomach burning and your throat tightening in dread.

There was no avoiding it now; Mark would get the box back, and its contents, no matter what. He didn’t give in on what he wanted, you knew all too well. You could no longer bear the gnawing fear slowly spreading throughout your insides the longer you had the box in your possession. You’d spent night after night playing out all the options…and you’d decided that your onlychoice was to plant the box right where Mark expected it to be. You would let him have it, after all.

That meant only one more visit to the prison. To Yancy. And the part that ate away at you the most was the fear that it would very likely be the last.

------

You didn’t bring along anything special with you this time, other than the box, of course. Your lungs felt like they were caving in, but you forced a smile to cross your face when you found Yancy, surprisingly waiting for you in the hallway outside his cell.

“Gerald left it open for me tonight,” he supplied as he jumped up from the floor and wrapped his arms around you. You allowed yourself the smallest moment to melt into his embrace, taking in his scent and scrounging up the willpower you’d need to tell him what was going on. “Told him another sob story about a dog I used ta have,” Yancy continued, "and the fella caved right away, says I can walk some laps around tonight to gets myself a clear head.” You heard him chuckle ever so slightly. “Gullible bastard.”

Yancy started to pull away from you, but noticed you weren’t moving, or telling him to keep his voice down like usual. You had already felt tears begin to well up in your eyes, and were trying to force them back down before he could look at you.

“y/n?” He asked, playfully scratching the top of your head and lowering his voice to a whisper. “I’se shuttin' up now, sees?” You could feel him make a motion to zip his lips shut, but you didn’t budge.

You hesitated a moment longer before pulling away, forcing the smile back onto your lips. But Yancy wasn’t a fool, and didn’t waste any time grabbing your hand to pull you toward the outside of the prison. Once you were outside, barely keeping up with his long stride, he checked the yard for any lingering security guards, then sat you down underneath the tree where the two of you often spent time together.

“What’s going on, doll face?” He asked. “Look at me.” He reached out to you, tilting your chin up so that you were facing him. You couldn’t meet his eyes, and closed them while you sighed through your nose to steady yourself. He allowed you the moment to collect yourself, and then you told him everything. You went straight to the point, told him what had happened and what was to come; no use in dragging it on.

“So, what youse is saying is…you ain’t coming back after tonight, huh?” It felt like a gunshot to the chest to hear him say the words out loud, but you nodded. He only let out a short hum in reply, and the two of you sat for a while without speaking, the sides of your bodies barely touching, much like the first night you’d seen each other since your escape.

Yancy’s hand dropped, feather-light, on top of yours. It grew heavier the longer you sat there, as if he thought maybe it would weigh you down, would keep you from leaving. But he knew you didn’t have a choice. He, too, had been forced to make choices that had hurt him. Still, he couldn’t help but feel the pang of guilt, the fact that if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be in this position to begin with.

He hadn’t realized he’d said the thought out loud until you were pleading him not to think that way. You’d done it to yourself, your own choices in life had led up to this. Not his. And you were so sorry it had to be this way.

“Don’t talk like that, y/n. You don’t know what’s gonna happen! Maybe we can’t sees each other for a while, but I told you, I’se gonna get outta heres.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking down to the grass you both sat on. “I mean, ah, I’se gonna try my best, anyways. I think I, I really—I wanna be free. Well, if it’s with youse.”

You heart was stuttering in your chest, threatening to break out of its cage. You’d never expected to hear him say it, and definitely not just because of you. You knew he’d been trying to be better, really trying, but you realized in that moment how serious he truly was.

You muttered his name a couple times and shook your head, part in sadness, part in disbelief at what things had come to. You dropped your head to rest against his shoulder, and all but curled yourself into him. He wrapped his arms around you, a shield against the ever-chilling night air. You felt his lips press softly onto the top of your head, and once he’d pulled away you lifted your head to pull him back down into a long kiss.

He reached up to cup your cheek with one hand and bring you even closer to him, his thumb reaching to wipe away the spots where tears had managed to escape. Your hands were around his arms, on top of his shoulders, in his hair as you kissed.

Soon he was pulling you onto his lap, and with your nod of permission his hands were everywhere, taking in and memorizing every bit of you that he still could, and you returned his urgency with that of your own. Your lips separated only you to catch your breath, foreheads pressed against each other, both of you lightly gasping for air.

“Wanna go inside...?” Yancy suggested, his voice almost a whisper next to your ear, and you quickly nodded in reply as he helped you to your feet, your head foggy with the electricity still buzzing though your body. Yancy grabbed your hand and started to lead you back into the prison, but after a couple steps, you froze and abruptly yanked him to a halt as the air was sucked from your lungs. You stared across the yard unable to move or speak.

“y/n, what’s—”

He quickly followed your stare, and he saw, too.

“Oh. This ain’t good."

Across the yard, by the gate that led to the outside, stood a single figure, dressed head-to-toe in black.

Mark.

_______________________________________________________________________

@rats-this-username-is-taken @dragonangel201 @just-a-werido @ultra-mysticartisanbouquet @theworsttrashofall @writer-girl99 @pupylvr4905 @fastidious-and-a-mess @maraudersforlife5922 @your-handsome-dad-kenneth @mirrored-calamity @foxyfoxsshinythings @jinxjinn @jazz-playing-queer @hypo-crates @itisadragon @jennabonenna @god-tier-dumbass @justaside-blog @antis-sock @naniky @joebob15274 @mygamingknight

#yancy x reader #yancy x female reader #yancy the prisoner #a heist with markiplier #ahwm #a heist with markiplier spoilers #ahwm spoilers #ahwm yancy #yanciplier

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calpalirwin · 4 years

Text

Mixtapes

Summary: You were just a seventeen year old girl with an incredible knack for learning when you crashed into Ashton Irwin. It was hard for him not to fall for a girl who was as phenomenal as you were and it was hard for you not to fall for a man who thought you were so much more than a girl four and half years his junior. Maybe age really was just a number. After all, you wouldn’t be seventeen forever.

A/N: @carebearofriddles shared this lovely idea with me, so I’ve been happily bringing this to life (she has the BEST ideas y’all!). It’s a longer blurb, but I hope you’ll enjoy reading it all the same.

And away, and away we go!

~~~

“Focus, Y/N,” your coach told you from behind the batting cage. “Breathe in, out, swing. You got this.”

You nodded your head, your cleats digging into the dirt as you adjusted your feet ever so slightly. Your loosened and tightened your grip on your bat, looking for that sweet spot. Your gaze shifted to the scout manning the pitching machine. This is it, Y/N, don’t blow it. You took in a slow breathe. “Pitch,” you instructed. You let out your breath as the ball came flying at you. Muscle memory took over as your bat left your shoulder, your body pivoted, and the ball clanged off your bat and soared into the back off the batting cage, rattling the fence when it stuck.

“Dang,” the scout whistled. “How old are you, again?”

“17,” you beamed proudly.

“Welcome to the USA Olympic Softball team, Y/N. We’re happy to have you.”

~~~

You couldn’t stop grinning. You had been playing softball since you were old enough to swing a bat. You were graduating high school next month- a year early- and were already accepted to your local state university to their psychology program and their softball team. And now, you’d be training to go play in the summer Olympics next year. Life, you decided, was pretty damn sweet.

To channel the euphoric emotions coursing through you, after a shower and change of clothes, you set out to create a musical piece.

It wasn’t much, as you never put lyrics in your pieces, choosing to let the music speak for itself in it’s raw and unaltered form. You had been playing instruments almost as long as you had been playing softball. Piano you had picked up first, courtesy of a Christmas gift for piano lessons. Drums you had learned shortly after, when you got caught pounding on your older brother’s kit and instead of pounding you, he taught you. Bass had been a recent acquisition, this time thanks to your softball coach who took an interest in your interests off the field.

Your apparent genius had a name: Savant Syndrome. And while it earned you more than your fair share of stares and whispers, you were humble. While your ability certainly gave you an edge, no one could deny how hard you worked to be at the top of your game. Gifted or not, you worked just as hard, if not harder, than anybody else. And it was paying off in ways you had only dreamed about.

~~~

Your announcement of punching your ticket to the Olympics quickly threw you into the spotlight.

“So, Y/N, you are 17, is that correct?” the interviewer asked you.

You nodded. “Yes.”

“And you’re starting at your local university here in a few months, yes?”

Again, you nodded. “Yeah, I graduated high school back in June, so I’ll be attending the local university here in another month.”

“Congratulations. What will you be studying?”

“Psychology.”

“And is it safe to assume you’ll be playing softball?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“So, Y/N. You’re a 17 year old girl. What do you do when you’re not playing softball? Mall with your friends? Dating?”

You laughed. “Yeah, I hang out with my friends. But, in my spare time, I like to make music.”

“So, no boyfriend, then?”

You laughed again, not sure what else to do. Was this going to be your life? Dodging questions about your dating life, or lack thereof? “I’m a little busy for that. The music keeps me pretty busy.”

“Music? I thought you played softball?”

You held back an eye roll. Did interviewers even listen if it wasn’t the answer they wanted to hear? “I do a lot more than just play softball,” you answered, getting a little annoyed now.

“Like what?”

You were going to scream. Instead, you forced a smile. “I make music. I study for classes. I hang out with my family and friends. I just keep my head down and keep busy.”

~~~

“That was such bullshit,” you growled at your coach after the interview was over.

“I know, Y/N, but you did great. You kept a cool head.”

“Is that what I have to look forward to? Questions about boys and dating?”

“You’re a pretty teenage girl, Y/N. So, unfortunately yes.”

“That’s bullshit…”

“I know. Go channel it.”

So you did, in the form of a drum heavy, pissed off, 8 minute rant.

~~~

“Oh, my bad!” you apologized as you stopped in your tracks, after almost colliding with the tall man in front of you. You looked up and your eyes locked on a hazel gaze underneath a cloud of long brown curls. You knew exactly who this was. “Holy shit… you’re…” you breathed.

“You good?” Ashton Irwin asked, nodding at the stain seeping into your shirt, from your knocked over drink.

You looked down at your shirt. “Oh, yeah,” you laughed nervously. “Only water. Is your beer okay?”

“No harm, no foul,” he said. “Can I buy you a new water?”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” you brushed him off.

“Nah, it’s my fault you’re wearing your drink. I wasn’t looking where I was walking.”

“It’s okay, honestly,” you assured him.

“I won’t take no for an answer, Y/N,” he smiled, his dimple showing, and you felt your heart race in your chest. Ashton Irwin wanted to buy you a new water and he knew who you were? Wow…

“You… you know who I am?” you asked as you walked faster to keep up with his long strides as he went in search of a drink stand.

“Course I do. Big fan of the Olympics.”

“I haven’t even gone yet.”

“I know. I like to keep updated on who’s going. Word on the street is, you’re gonna win your team the gold. Powerful swing, fast feet, quicker hands. Phew, you’re dangerous, sweetheart.”

“I’m not that good,” you mumbled as your cheeks flushed.

“Aw, she’s modest, too,” he grinned. “You’re phenomenal. Don’t let anyone tell you any different. 1 water please.”

Your cheeks flushed a deeper red as he handed you the water bottle. “Thanks.”

“See you around, Y/N,” he winked, placing a hand on your shoulder before disappearing in the crowd.

You took a drink of your water. What the hell had just happened?

~~~

Good luck, Y/N! your phone pinged.

Ash? How did you know I was playing today? you messaged back, holding back a grin. He had messaged you for the first time shortly after your run-in, and he messaged you at least once a day either to wish you luck or to remind you that you were phenomenal. You had already written 2 songs about him. Lovestruck ones about how sweet he was, and how it could never happen because you were 17, and he had just turned 22.

Gotta keep tabs on my favorite girl.

Your face flushed. Ash, you really shouldn’t say things like that.

But it’s true. Let me take you out for coffee when you get home. I miss you.

Ash, you barely know me.

Bullshit. We’re famous, sweetheart. Everybody knows us.

~~~

“Stop!” you giggled, throwing a straw wrapper at him.

“What you did! You were phenomenal out there. As always.”

You kept giggling. You had been friends with Ashton for almost 8 months now. Friends as your age gap was still a big concern for you. But, there was no denying the chemistry that was between the two of you. “I’m really not.”

“Hey! What did I tell you? You are phenomenal. Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise. That includes you.”

“But if I do that, then I won’t have you to remind me,” you smiled over at him.

“Oh, I’ll always remind you. Don’t worry about that.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he said, then his lips were on yours. A brief, soft kiss. You were about to melt into it, but your brain screaming at you that this was wrong was too much to ignore.

“No!” you gasped, pulling away. “Ash, no… Don’t do that…”

“What? Don’t kiss you? Y/N, do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do that?”

“Ash… I’m… you’re… we’re…”

“You turned 18 yesterday,” he reminded you.

“You’re still way older than me! This… this… no. No, Ash.”

“Really? You’re still gonna pull the age-gap card? You’re 18! And don’t you dare sit there and say you haven’t been thinking about kissing me.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he was right. Of course you had thought about kissing him. You had 7 songs sitting on your computer that were all about him and wanting to kiss him. Songs he would never hear. “Ash, we live totally different lives. We can’t do this.”

“Different lives? Yes, okay. You’re in college, and I’m a rockstar. Sure. But we’re both in the public eye. We’re still really good friends. Friends who have more than friends feelings towards each other.”

“No!”

He sighed. “Alright. Fine.”

After that encounter you had 8 songs about him.

~~~

“Move in with me.”

“What?!”

“Move. In. With. Me.”

“Ash!”

“Y/N!”

“I can’t just move in with you!”

“Yes you can! You’re going to be a sophomore in college, you can’t possibly like staying in that crapped dorm. I have plenty of room at my place. Plenty of privacy, too, as I’m hardly ever home.”

“I’m not dating you, Ashton.”

“I’m not asking you to, Y/N.”

“Good. As long as we both know that I’m moving in as a friend.”

He put up his hands in surrender. “Just friends.”

Your eyes narrowed at your “friend” and his hazel eyes that were full of trouble. “Fine. I’ll move in with you.”

“Great! I’ll help you pack.”

~~~

“No! I’m not ready! Can’t you understand that!” you screamed at Ashton.

“This is bullshit! You’re 20 years old, Y/N! We’re not those same kids from 2 and a half years ago! Nobody cares about the stupid age gap!” he screamed back, his eyes shining with tears.

“I do! I care! I just turned 20! You’re gonna be 25! That’s a huge difference!”

“No, it isn’t! Not to me anyway!”

“Well, good for you!”

“I can’t do this… God, I can’t keep doing this! Grow up, Y/N.” He grabbed his jacket and stormed towards the front door.

“What?! You’re just gonna leave?! Ashton, get back here!”

“I need to get to the studio, Y/N,” he said, his voice suddenly soft. “We can talk more when I get back, but honestly, I don’t know if I’m going to want to. I just… I need space. Hell, maybe we both do.” And with that, you were left alone in your shared home, wondering if it was even yours anymore. You were losing him, as a roommate, as a friend, as a potential lover, and for what? For being too afraid of your feelings? No, that wasn’t good enough. Ashton was right. It was time to grow up and stop being a scared little kid. You were phenomenal and it was time to start acting like it. So, you did what you did best. You created music. And this time, he was going to hear you.

Your fingers shook as you typed out the message.

If you show this to anyone, I’m moving out, and you’ll never hear from me again. It’s called You, Me, Us.

Before you could overthink, you attached the audio file and hit send. “Please don’t break my heart,” you whispered before shutting off your phone, terrified of the response.

Ashton’s phone pinged and he was grateful for the interruption. They were stuck on making the last song for the album and nothing they were making seemed like it was good enough. When he saw the notification was from you, he grabbed his headphones and excused himself into a different room.

He read the message first, his heart soaring. He knew how private you kept your music, never letting him so much as catch you doing something as simple as playing. Music was the one thing you had always kept just for yourself. He hit play on the 9 minute audio clip, your voice sounding out, “Alright, Ash… this has been a long time coming, but uh.. Yeah. Here it goes.” The clip was bass heavy, a drum beat looping on repeat, a little upbeat feel from the piano kicking in throughout.

If his heart had soared at your message, it ripped out of his chest with your music. A wordless melody that expressed 2 and a half years worth of emotion you felt towards one man- him. He scrambled around for loose pieces of paper, penning out a response as he hit repeat.

He was on his third listen, his response nearly complete when Calum’s “There you are, mate! We’ve been looking all over for you,” startled him.

“Jesus, Cal!” he exclaimed, a hand flying to his chest, hitting pause and slipping his headphones around his neck. “Damn near gave me a heart attack…”

“Were you crying? You okay?”

Ashton touched a hand to his face, his cheeks wet. Shit, he didn’t even notice, he had been so lost. Ashton sniffed and wiped at his face. “Yeah, I’m good, mate. I think.”

Calum raised an eyebrow, not sure what to believe, so he just dropped it in favor of wondering what his friend had been up to. “What’s this?” he asked, his Vans tapping lightly against the thrown about papers.

“Our last song,” Ashton grinned.

Calum picked up one of the pieces, scanning the title. “Part 2? When did we write Part 1?”

“We didn’t. She did.”

“Oh, shit…” Calum breathed, realizing the weight of the situation. “C’mon, let’s get this recorded for her.”

“Mike, you ready for a solo?” Ashton asked, once he and Calum went into the other room where Luke and Mike were in the midst of a guitar riff-off.

Mike’s note came to a definitive finish. “Solo?”

Ashton nodded, waving the lyrics in his hand. He would sing it himself, but his solo songs didn’t lend themselves well to being added to setlists and this was definitely one he wanted to play on tour. And he knew Mike would be able to get the emotion he needed and deserved a song on the album to showcase more than his incredible guitar playing, even if the man didn’t agree he had the best singing voice. “I only got the words, but I figure we can pair it with some heavy drums, a bitchin bass line, and some piano work. What do you guys say?”

“I say let’s make a hit!” Luke said, excited to have something to work with.

An hour later the four men sat around booth while their song played out around them, grins on their faces. “We gotta make this a single,” Luke said.

“Oh, yeah,” Mike agreed.

“Y/N gets writing credit,” Ashton told them.

“What? She didn’t write this. She’s not even here,” Mike laughed.

“She doesn’t even go here!” Luke added with a laugh of his own.

“Quit quoting Mean Girls,” Calum said with an eye roll. “You idiots do know that this title has Part 2 in it right? Y/N gets credit.”

“Shit, she wrote part 1? Where is it?” Mike asked, his green eyes wide in excitement.

“Not a chance, Mikey. Y/N trusted me that nobody besides me would hear Part 1. Now, get that on a CD for me so I can go home to my girl.”

“Your girl? What? Are you guys finally dating?!” Mike asked, his fingers inching towards Ashton’s phone.

“I dunno, mate, but I’m gonna try,” Ashton told him, moving his phone away from Mike’s hands. “Now, give her writing credit. Put it on the album. Release it as a single. And give me my damn song.”

“I thought it was Y/N’s song,” Luke teased.

“It’s our song,” he corrected, meaning Y/N and himself. Then, “Mikey, so help me God, I will break your fingers if you so much as look at my phone. No one is hearing that song.”

His hand dropped. “But… I need Part 1 to know how to sing Part 2!”

“You sang it fine, mate. Touch the phone, and I’ll break every bone in your damn hands. Are we all in agreement? This song wouldn’t exist without her.”

“Yeah, mate. Single. Album. Writing credit. Here’s her song. Go get your woman,” Calum said, tossing Ashton the CD.

“Let me hear the song!” Mike screamed after the older man as Ashton grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

“I mean it, Mike. Hands. Broken. Nobody hears Part 1 but Y/N and me.”

~~~

“Y/N? Are you home?” Ashton’s voice called throughout the house. His hand clutched around the CD case, shaking with his nerves. When he didn’t hear you, he went searching, scared he wouldn’t find you, that you had left anyway after your fight earlier that morning. “Y/N,” he breathed, sighing in relief as he found you on your bedroom floor, a suitcase open.

Tears where in your eyes, and you didn’t dare look at him, for fear of crying again. You had been crying all day. “I’ll be done in a minute,” you sniffed.

He crossed the room to you and wrapped you in his arms. “What are you doing, gorgeous girl?” he whispered.

“Giving you your space,” you whispered back, still refusing to look at him. “God, I’m such an idiot…”

“Y/N, you are the smartest person I know. Now, slow down a second. What’s wrong?”

“Everything!” you screamed suddenly, your composure shattering into a million pieces. Why did it feel like he was holding you together? Why did you like it so much? Why were you so in love with a man you could never have? Why was he in love with a stupid kid? “Let me go!”

His response was to hold you tighter as you thrashed against him. “Y/N, stop,” his voice urged. “You’re gonna hurt yourself, baby.”

“I don’t care!” you continued to scream. “Stop calling me that! Stop calling me gorgeous! Stop calling me baby! Stop calling me phenomenal! Let me go! I don’t care!”

“No! I love you, Y/N! And I’m never letting you go.”

His words startled you. He had never said those words to you. All your fights about whether or not you should be together, and he had never said those words. “You what?”

“I love you, Y/N,” he repeated, before crushing his lips to yours.

This time, when you melted into him, the nagging voice telling you this was wrong stayed silent. Your arms wrapped around his neck, holding him to you, as his arms held you tightly, both of you a tangled puddle on your bedroom floor. “I love you too, Ash,” you said when the kiss finally broke, breathless, your lips tingling.

“Good. I have something for you,” he said, getting up and putting the CD into your stereo.

“You wrote me a song?”

“Call it Part 2,” he smiled before he hit play and left the room for you to enjoy the next 3 minutes and 3 seconds in peace.

You were crying before Mike even started singing. By the time the verse hit, you were dancing, the tears falling freely down your face. By the time the song ended, you had no doubt in your mind that you were going to be love with Ashton Irwin for as long as the world kept on spinning.

You went to start the song over, but clapped your hand over your mouth instead. Only Mike’s voice was singing the song, with only Ashton’s voice harmonizing in the background. Mike had done a fabulous job, but in order to the song justice, he deserved to hear Part 1. Which meant you had to share the most vulnerable part of you with someone who wasn’t Ashton. “Oh, no…”

“What? What’s wrong?” Ashton said, sticking his head in, worry written all over his face.

“It’s beautiful,” you told him, throwing your arms around him.

“So, why are you crying then?”

“I have to let Mikey hear Part 1.”

“I, uh… I might have…”

“Ashton!” you growled. “I trusted you!”

“And I didn’t show him! I told him I’d break his fingers if he so much as looked at my phone! I don’t think he’s gonna want to listen cuz of that.”

“Call him over. Tell him I said he needs to hear Part 1, and that his hands are safe.”

~~~

“We need to get to the studio,” Mike said, after listening to Part 1. “Now.”

“Now?” both you and Ashton asked him, bewildered.

“Yes! I can sing this so much better now that I know the emotion behind it! We can’t put the original on our album now!”

“You’re gonna put this on the album?” you squeaked.

“Giving you writing credit, too,” Mike winked at you.

“What? No… No!”

Ashton laughed and twirled you in a circle. “Yes, and yes! The world deserves to know your brilliance, you phenomenal woman!”

“Well, go record the new version, then,” you laughed with him.

“Hey, Y/N, you got any other great hits like that one that we can have Ash write responses to?”

“You’ll never know,” you winked. In truth, you had enough for a whole album yourself. “Oh, and Mikey?”

“Yeah?”

“Nobody finds out that you listened to Part 1.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

“I mean it, Mikey. I’d hate for Ash to break those talented fingers of yours.”

His hands went behind his back. “Trust me, I know all about wanting to keep your private life private.”

~~~

“We already recorded it!” Calum groaned. It was 2 am by the time all four men were back in the studio.

“But, I had an epiphany! I know I can sing this song better. I know it!” Mike said.

“Ash,” both Calum and Luke looked at Ashton, begging the oldest for help.

Ashton shrugged. “He’s the one singing it. If he wants to tweak it, that’s his choice.”

“I hate this band…” Luke pouted, sitting down at the piano.

~~~

“So, this song, it’s actually Part 2? Which begs the question, where’s Part 1?” Zach Sang asked.

Ashton laughed. He had been dodging this question in every interview on this press tour. But, you had finally given the okay to reveal the truth, even share Part 1 because you wanted the world to know the whole story and Zach Sang’s interview was the best place as he was an interviewer who actually gave a shit about their art, rather than their personal lives. “It’s a bit of a story,” Ashton continued to chuckle.

“Well, by all means, let’s hear it.”

“So, Y/N and I… we met a few years ago at a music festival. And uh… well, it’s hard not to like that woman, lemme tell ya. She’s phenomenal. Anyway, she was only seventeen back then. So we were just friends, for a long time. And, uh… eventually, when she got older, I asked her to move in with me, as friends. Anyway, jumping ahead, we got in a fight the morning I wrote this song. I’ve never hid my affection for her, and I was getting more than a little mad she wasn’t willing to reciprocate, especially since our age gap isn’t as big a deal now that she’s twenty. And I left for the studio, midfight basically. And we were struggling with this album. I mean, we’ve been working hard, but it was missing something, and we couldn’t figure it out. But then, Y/N sent me Part 1. Being a musician is something she’s always kept very private, so I quickly hid out in another room to listen to it because, my God, she was finally trusting me to listen to her stuff. And like not even 2 hours later we had my response.”

“But Mikey sings it?”

“Yeah. I did it that way on purpose. I want to be able to play this song when we tour, so I can’t really be the one singing it.”

“So, how did you record Part 2 then, if no one’s heard Part 1 besides you?”

“Oh, we re-recorded it after I heard it,” Mike piped up.

Calum, Luke, and Zach all looked at Mike with wide eyes. “You heard it?”

Mike nodded. “Yeah, it’s fantastic. Can we play it?”

“You have Part 1?” Zach asked, excitedly.

Ashton nodded and pulled out his phone. “Y/N wanted me to share it here on your show. Both parts, one right after the other, the full story. It’s long.”

Zach just smiled. “Alright, let’s hear this love story, folks. You, Me, Us Parts 1 and 2, coming at you live from the Zach Sang Show.”

~~~

“Here,” you said, placing a cassette player in Ashton’s hands.

“I don’t have any tapes, gorgeous,” he smiled at you.

“Yes you do,” you told him, tapping the cassette player. “Don’t lose it.”

“Are these your songs?”

You nodded. “There’s only 4, but they’re long. Mikey helped me.”

He pulled you in for a tight hug, covering the top of your head in kisses. “I’ll protect it with my life,” he promised.

~~~

“Baby!” Ashton voice said, laced with panic.

“What?!”

“I need a new tape!”

“What?!”

“The tape! I played it too much! The songs! Baby!” His voice was high and there were tears in his eyes. “I said I would protect it, and it broke! Please! My favorite song!” he continued to panic.

“Hey, relax,” you soothed. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not! I said I would protect it, and it broke! Stupid antique junk!”

“Ash! Stop. Look,” you said, flashing a new tape. “I’ll overnight it, okay? Just breathe.”

“I’m so sorry…”

“It’s okay,” you smiled at him. The fact that he had played it so much he wore out the tape meant the world to you. You would make him a billion copies if he played each one to their breaking point. “One mixtape straight out of ‘94 heading your way.”

“You were born in ‘99…”

“And the man behind the music is a product of ‘94,” you smiled. “It’ll be there soon, Ash. Don’t worry. I love you.”

“I love you too. And I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s just a tape.”

“No it’s not. It’s our tape.”

~~~

Before he left for his World Way Joy tour, you gave him another tape. “Don’t break this one,” you teased.

“Not funny!”

“It’s a little funny,” you laughed.

“It’s not funny… I was very careful with it…”

“It’s true,” Mike piped up, overhearing the conversation.

“He doesn’t go anywhere without that damn hunk of junk,” Calum scoffed.

“It’s vintage!” Ashton hissed playfully.

“It’s obsolete, mate. Just put those suckers on Spotify, Y/N.”

“Never!” you smiled, hugging Calum goodbye. “Take care of him for me.”

“Always, Y/N, always.”

~~~

When Ashton finally came home, after both the tour and spending the holidays with his family, he was restless.

You rolled over in bed to find it empty. You squinted as you checked the time: 2:13 am. Where the hell is he? you wondered as you got out of bed to search for him.

You found him in the backyard, guitar strumming softly, a cup of coffee on the patio table. “Ash,” you whispered, pulling the blanket tightly around you. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Late?”

“Very… is that coffee?”

“It’s decaf…”

“Come to bed.”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Can’t sleep? Ash, you need to try. Rest your body at least.” Now you were worried. You had noticed the dark circles under his eyes when he came home earlier that afternoon, but you had expected the man to sleep soundly for several hours, not be wide awake at 2 in the morning. This, you decided, was very bad.

“Not. Tired,” came the response and a pluck of guitar strings.

You sighed, but decided not to say anything. Ashton was a grown man and he wouldn’t appreciate you babying him. Instead, you had an idea.

You worked relentlessly on the project, using the research of you thesis project to help you, keeping late hours yourself. Ashton was worried you were pushing yourself too hard, but he also kept his mouth shut. You weren’t giving him shit about his insomnia, so he wasn’t going to give you shit for yours. Instead, he got interested in what his girlfriend was up to.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you.

Your head snapped up. “Thesis,” you said, pulling out of his arms and out of your seat in front of the keyboard.

“Your thesis has you making music?”

An idea formed in your head. “Yeah,” you said, leading him to the bedroom. “It’s crazy what music does to brain waves, Ash.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s like a drug, almost,” you explained, pulling him into bed.

“Mmm, fascinating,” he smiled at you. He loved when your smart side showed in full force even though he had no idea what you were talking about half the time.

“Yeah,” you smiled back, running your hands through his hair. “So, we already know how music makes people feel. There’s this study where they tested the idea of music being therapeutic. What they did is they did a series of surgeries, already planned surgeries, mind you. But they did these surgeries. Some with music playing, some without. And what they noticed was incredible!” you were whispering now as his eyelids drooped lower and lower.

“Mmm, incredible, yeah,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, it’s incredible. And what they realized was that the patients who listened to the music, even though they had no memory of it, they had faster recovery times. And like they mapped how their brains reacted to different kinds of music. And like, that’s what I’m doing! Like what type of music causes our brain waves to do this instead of that type of stuff. God, Ash, it’s so cool!”

“Mmm, very,” he mumbled again, then let out a small snore.

You grinned to yourself. Finally, Ashton was asleep. Now, you just had to find a way to make him sleep like this without boring him to death with research and science. You were almost there. You just needed to run the tests to make sure you could record the perfect lullaby.

~~~

“Here!” you grinned, handing him the tape before he left for his No Shame tour.

“How many tapes do you have, gorgeous?” he laughed, taking the tape anyway.

“Last one, I promise,” you told him. “Just listen to it when you go to bed, okay?”

“Okay,” he told you.

Later that night, he crawled into his bunk on the tour bus, put in the tape, secured his headphones, and hit play. In 5 minutes, he was in the deepest sleep of his life.

“Baby, I don’t know what type of superpowers you put in that last tape, but I swear I haven’t been able to finish it.”

You grinned. Your research had paid off. You had created the perfect lullaby. “Good!”

“No, not good. I want to finish it. I want to hear your music. But every time I’m out like a light. I dunno what it is.”

“It’s the music,” you continued to grin. “Brain waves. Science!” You were laughing now and wiggling your fingers like magic. “The power of sleep compels you!”

He laughed with you. “Thanks baby. I don’t think I’ve ever slept better.”

~~~

“So my last thing… and this counts as 1 thing!” Ashton laughed, pulling out the tape player and 3 cassettes. “This… wow, I never go anywhere without this. Tour, grocery shopping, anywhere.”

“Tell us what it is, Ash,” Calum said from behind the camera.

“Right! It’s uh… it’s a tape player that plays my 3 favorite tapes.”

“What are the tapes?” Mike boomed from behind the camera.

“I’m getting there!” Ashton laughed. “So, my phenomenal girlfriend made me these tapes. And I carry them with me everywhere.”

“He even showers with them,” Luke said, stepping into view.

“I do not!” Ashton protested.

“What’s on the tapes?” Mike asked.

“It’s porn, Mikey,” Calum said.

“Shut up, and let me talk, or get off the set,” Ashton laughed.

“Yeah, let him finish!” Luke said.

“LeT mE fInIsH!” Calum and Mike taunted.

“Anyway…” Ashton said, waving the tapes. “Not porn. My phenomenal girlfriend decided to share her music with me. And because she’s very private about her music, I promised to protect them.”

“It’s cuz it’s porn!” Calum whisper-yelled.

“Is not!”

“Oh, just tell ‘em how you broke one already,” Mike said.

“Right! So… uh, one of these, this one,” he said, waving the tape for emphasis, “is not the original. I played it so much in those first few days I actually broke it. And I called her in a panic to ask for a new one because my favorite song was on it. Still is my favorite. You might’ve heard it. It’s Part 1 of Me, You, Us. Anyway, now I only play the tapes once a day. And, uh, yeah, those are my 5 must haves on tour. I’m Ashton Irwin, thanks.”

“Wait, is that why you’ve been wearing jumpsuits in this era? All those pockets to hold them tapes?” Luke asked, coming back on screen.

“As a matter of fact, it is. If the tapes aren’t physically on me, they’re in a bag by my feet. Always in my line of sight and close to my heart. Y/N, I love you gorgeous. Your tapes are safe with me, baby. I promise. And again, I’m Ashton Irwin, and this has been 5 Things with 5SOS. See you all at the Tokyo Olympics where I’ll be cheering my phenomenal girlfriend as she makes her second debut as shortstop for America’s softball team. Did I mention she was phenomenal? And my girlfriend? Cuz she is!”

#mixtapes #ashton irwin #ashton blurb #5sos #galcal irwin #wow this was so fun to write!#thanks kerry for the idea!#happy reading!

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