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spine-buster · 4 years

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m a d e o f o u t e r s p a c e | elias pettersson

Summary: Brock Boeser invites Elias Pettersson and his childhood best friend, Svea Nilsson, to his place on Prior Lake for the weekend. Petey is feeling some feelings. So is Svea. And in a big group of twenty-somethings at a cottage on a summer weekend, what could go wrong?

Word Count: 14.8k

A/N: Some tropes here, definitely some character archetypes, but an overall good time that includes Incredibly Soft Bitch Hours™ because I’m an Incredibly Soft Bitch™ for Elias Pettersson.

Svea Nilsson decided to go to university in Vancouver and Elias Pettersson decided to follow her. Not the other way around.

Svea and Elias had been best friends since childhood – when Elias saw her faceplant on the ice at the local rink and he helped her up. Simple as that. They had the exact same temperament, and everyone would comment about it. Their parents, their teachers, their mutual friends, their classmates – everybody would always say something: how so very quiet they were; how shy they were; how so very nice they were; how calm they were; how focused they were; how mature they were; how so very humble they were; how dry their sense of humour was; how they would open up when they got to know you. The only difference between them was hockey. When Elias began to take hockey more seriously, and play hockey more seriously, it didn’t change things. Svea only took hockey seriously because Elias did. She went to his games. She would watch him. She’d offer words of encouragement. But she was the academic. She was the one with her nose in a book in the stands in-between periods. She was the one who got straight A’s and helped Elias with his abysmal English grades and had all the teachers loving her because she was so academic, so driven.

So when Svea chose to go to Vancouver for university, where her mom was from, instead of Stockholm, where all her other friends were dying to go to get out of Ånge, everybody was shocked. Except for Elias. He was the first person she told, and the first person who told her to go for it. She admitted she was a bit nervous to apply, and even more nervous about getting in. It would mean she would have to leave him in Sweden. But Elias wasn’t scared about any of that; he wasn’t scared of much, really. “I’m going to follow you, anyway,” he’d said to her. “When I play in the NHL.”

And then she got in. And she had to leave Elias in Sweden.

But that’s when happens when your mom is Canadian and she moved half around the world for your dad – you choose to rediscover your roots and see and live in the city your mom once called home. You choose to move half-way across the world despite the fear and despite the fact that you’d leave your best friend behind, relying on May to August to spend as much time as possible with him. Even though Svea was closer to Elias than she was to anyone else in the world, including her sister; and even though, like Catherine Earnshaw said in Wuthering Heights, “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same”, she was leaving him.

It was the hardest year of Svea’s life, when she was in Vancouver her first year and he stayed in Sweden to play with Vaxjo. They would call and text each other constantly, with FaceTimes and Skype dates written into their schedules as easily and frequently as grocery shopping. That spring, after finishing her exams on April 21st, she returned to Sweden on April 22nd, making it just in time to watch Elias score the game winning goal and the rest of the Vaxjo Lakers win the Swedish championships. She was so happy for him she cried. And when she surprised him on the ice – before all the gold paint, before all the champagne – he cried too. He hugged her for so long she thought he wouldn’t let go. And truthfully, she didn’t want him to.

When he signed his contract with Vancouver and moved to the city, he asked – practically demanded – that she live with him. She agreed because she didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to live rent free with her best friend in a beautiful condo that was bigger than the house in Ånge she grew up in. She practically had her own wing, with a giant bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows, her own bathroom, and Elias even let her have the den for all her studying. They’d cook together, go out for sushi and waffles together, and Svea would even go to some games if she wasn’t busy studying. When she was busy studying, Elias would leave her alone, which was what she loved most. He understood her. He never pressured her about anything. But when she did go out with him – to games or afterwards – he’d made sure she made friends with the team. So it became not just Elias – it became Brock, and Jake, and Marky, and Bo and Holly too, sometimes even Loui and Adam and JT.

But in the end, it was Elias. It was always Elias.

It was Elias leaving with her when she wanted to leave early from Canucks events she’d inevitably be at or just regular nights out with the guys. It was Elias calling cabs to take them home. It was Elias making sure she got tucked into bed safely, leaving an Advil and a glass of water on her bedside table. It was Elias making breakfast in the morning to cure any hangovers she got. It was Elias bringing her snacks or making sure she got a good night’s sleep before midterms or exams. It was Elias hugging her and telling her everything would be okay when she got stressed about a bad mark or an awful professor. It was Elias who would help celebrate her highs, and would be there for her lows.

It was always Elias.

>< >< >< >< ><

Friday

When Elias and Svea walked through the arrivals section of Minneapolis-St Paul International Airport, Brock Boeser was already waiting for them, holding a homemade sign that he had definitely scribbled in the car before getting there. They immediately walked over to him, giant smiles on their faces. He gave them big bear hugs – Brock always gave the best hugs, Svea thought, besides Elias – and grabbed Svea’s bag for her.

“It’s only about a half our drive out to Prior Lake,” he said as they walked out into the parking garage. “Did they feed you on the plane? You guys want to grab something to eat now?”

“We can just wait and eat something at the house,” Svea said.

“All my friends are at my place already. I told them to get lunch ready so hopefully they listened.”

“And if they didn’t we’re out of luck huh?” Elias joked as he settled into the passenger’s seat. Svea slipped into the back.

Svea had never been to Minnesota before – she hadn’t been anywhere in the States besides the Pacific Northwest – but she enjoyed the drive out to the lake as much as she could. When they finally arrived at the house, Svea admired the beautiful architectural design and big tree in the front. She knew the house backed onto the lake, so it would be nice to see what the backyard looked like if the front was this beautiful.

When Brock opened the front door, there was already music playing and a lot of commotion in the kitchen. Svea, on instinct, instantly became a bit nervous at all the voices she heard. She looked over at Elias quickly. “We’re back!” Brock yelled out over the music. Suddenly, a rush of people came from the kitchen. Svea was sure she was clutching onto her luggage so tightly her knuckles were white. “Did you guys make lunch?” Brock asked.

“Parker’s just finishing up,” a beautiful redhead said as she approached them. Svea could see the pattern of her bikini through her tank top. The girl stared directly at Elias, not giving her so much as a glance. “Is this Elias?”

“Okay, everybody!” Brock called out. “These are my friends Elias and Svea!” She and Elias smiled politely at everyone, and Elias even gave a dumb wave. “Petey, Svea…okay, we’ve got Kyla, Hallie, Marcus, McKenna, Brayden, Tanner, Brett, Parker’s outside on the barbecue I guess…and of course, you know—”

“Meeeeeee!” Brock’s girlfriend, Grace Gillespie screamed as she rounded the corner with her arms wide open for hugs, shoving past the crowd to get to her friends. After having not seen them for a couple of weeks, she was happy to be hosting them in Minnesota. “How was your flight? Everything go well?”

Svea gave her a warm hug. She was so glad to see a friendly face in Grace. Despite their personality differences Svea loved her and always had a good time with her. They were fairly close, especially while in Vancouver together trying to navigate the lives of Brock and Elias. “Everything was nice,” Svea nodded her head as Grace hugged Elias but kept her attention on Svea. “I’ve never been to Minnesota before. The drive out here was nice, too.”

“Okay, good,” she said, turning her attention back to Brock. “Babe, can you make sure Parker’s not burning his face off on the barbecue? I can show Elias and Svea their room.”

Brock ran out to the back while the group dispersed, Kyla and Hallie’s eyes watching them. Svea tried not to look, but she couldn’t help it as they made their way through the house, following Grace. When their eyes met, it was like Kyla and Hallie were hawks and Svea was the prey. Or was it Elias? Either way, she didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to find out. And when she looked at Elias again, he didn’t even seem to notice – either that, or he did and just didn’t care. As a young, star hockey player in Vancouver, he was used to people staring at him by now. There were even times where they’d be out for dinner together and people would approach their table asking for autographs or photos. Svea knew Elias wasn’t any more comfortable with it, despite it happening so often now – he was still very much uncomfortable with it – but he was learning to take it all in stride. Her, not so much. She didn’t know if she could ever get used to people wanting pictures and an autograph of her best friend. Because that’s what he still was to her, despite all his success and fame – her best friend.

Grace led them down into the basement of the house. Thankfully, it got quieter and Svea was actually able to hear her thoughts over the voices and the music. “Okay, so there’s five bedrooms upstairs and most of us are staying up there, but Brock and I know you guys, and how you like your own space and aren’t loud like the rest of them are, so we put you down here for your benefit,” Grace explained. “You’ve got the double bed and your own bathroom down here. And nobody can disturb you, so if you want to, like, take a breather, you can,” she continued, looking directly at Svea as she said the words. Svea thanked her lucky stars for Grace. When Grace opened the door, they were met with a plain but cozy bedroom. Because the basement was technically a walkout, one wall had a massive window, looking out on to the lake. There was another door that led to said washroom.

“This is so cozy,” Svea heard Elias say as he walked further into the bedroom. “Tell Brock I want him to bring me breakfast in bed down here tomorrow morning.”

Everybody couldn’t help but laugh. Svea couldn’t help but admire Elias’s smile. “Okay, well, I’ll let you two unpack and get settled,” Grace said. “Lunch should be ready in about fifteen minutes. And if I were you, I’d put on your bathing suits now because Brock’s gonna drag us all into the lake afterwards.”

She left without saying another word, leaving Svea and Elias looking at each other as they stood alone in the room. “I think I might have a headache by the end of the weekend,” Elias said.

Svea couldn’t help but snort. “I think we both will.”

“At least Grace will tell people to be quiet. Brock will only get louder,” he said as he lifted his suitcase and put it on top of the bed. Svea followed, lifting her own onto the opposite side of the bed. “You want to change and go back upstairs with everyone? I can unpack everything,” Elias offered.

“I’m not going if you’re not going,” she shook her head. It was the theme of their life together, really.

Elias smiled. “Suit yourself.”

They unpacked in relative silence, slipping past each other every so often and in and out of the washroom to put away their toiletries. Eventually Svea escaped inside the washroom to put her bathing suit on under her clothes. Elias changed while she did. When she emerged, she found him wearing an obnoxious pair of Hawaiian print swim trunks. “Did Brock buy you those?”

“He did,” Elias nodded, his smile telling her he knew they were ridiculous but there was no way he couldn’t wear them. He looked at her, standing near the doorway of the washroom, her hands adjusting the dress she’d changed into. “Are you nervous, Svea?” he asked suddenly. She couldn’t help but nod her head. “I won’t leave your side, okay?”

“Don’t worry about me, Elias.”

“That’s impossible,” he chuckled slightly, approaching her. “I worry about you constantly.”

That made Svea furrow her brows. Why would he worry about her? She didn’t think she ever gave him anything to worry about. She knew she was really reserved in big groups of people, preferring to just watch and listen rather than act and talk, but so was he. “Why do you wor—”

“Petey? Svea? Lunch is ready!” Grace called down the stairs, interrupting their conversation.

This would clearly have to be discussed later.

Elias led them back upstairs, and they looked at the back deck to see everyone congregating near the giant table as they last of the food was being put on plates by Parker. Grace grabbed Svea’s hand and led her around the table to sit next to her; Elias made sure to follow so he wasn’t stuck with any of the loud and boisterous others. Brock settled in across from him, which meant the redhead, Kyla, slid in beside him, getting a bit too close for his liking. She looked at him and smiled and he gave a tight-lipped grin back, trying to be polite, but also trying to tell her he needed more room for his elbows. He knew he wasn’t a big guy but he could barely get his hands onto the table – he’d look like a t-rex eating at this rate.

“Brock says we can call you Petey – is that okay?” Kyla asked, cocking her head to the side as she touched Elias’s forearm briefly.

“That’s fine,” he nodded quickly.

“How do you pronounce your name in Swedish, anyway? Cause I definitely want to learn how,” she continued.

“Wait! Let me do it!” Brock yelled, interrupting whatever moment Kyla was trying to create. Brock took one last look at Svea and Elias before taking a dramatic pause and saying it. “El-ee-as Pet-ter-shon.”

Svea and Elias began to clap, and Brock bowed in his seat. Elias’s smile was wide at Brock’s pronunciation. “Good job. Now we can move on to our ABCs.”

After lunch, Brock took Elias, Svea, Grace, Kyla, and Parker out on the boat. They zigzagged around the lake, the hot sun beaming down on them as Brock eventually stopped in the middle of the lake so they could swim and sunbathe for a bit. He cracked open a couple of beers and stripped down to his swim trunks. Kyla stood up in front of Elias and took her shirt off practically right in front of him, exposing her bikini. Svea couldn’t help but watch, wondering if Elias noticed how well Kyla filled it out. Svea never filled anything out. Whereas Kyla had a beautifully athletic body, Svea had nothing of the sort. She wondered if Elias noticed the difference between them. He’d known Svea practically his whole life, but Kyla would be a shiny new toy. Kyla seemed pretty dead set on getting his attention at lunch, and she was clearly taking the next step. Even when she jumped into the lake from the boat and came back on, soaking wet and body now practically glistening in the sunlight, she made sure to dry herself in front of Elias too, perching her leg on the edge of the boat to show off her long legs.

When they got back to the cottage after a few hours of being out on the lake, homemade pizzas were waiting to be devoured as dinner. And when dinner was over, Grace suggested an innocent movie night before the rowdiness of tomorrow, so everybody changed into their pajamas, poured bowls of popcorn and chips and Skittles, and sprawled out over the couches. Svea had a bowl of chips in her hands as she watched Kyla settle in next to Elias on the couch, almost instantly beginning to chat him up about the movie. Elias smiled and nodded but was soon looking around the room. When his eyes found her, he got up from the couch. Kyla was mid-sentence.

“You coming to sit?” he asked, grabbing the chip bowl and leading her to the armchair. He sat down first, scooting over to the edge until Svea sat beside him. Brock threw a blanket at her and she unfolded it right before Elias grabbed her legs and swung them over his lap. She laid the blanket on top of them.

Kyla was glaring at her. Nobody else seemed to notice, but Svea felt Kyla’s eyes burning a hole into her. Svea tried as much as possible to ignore it, but she could still feel it.

“Comfortable?” Elias asked.

Svea nodded her head. “I think you were meant to sit beside someone else,” she quipped, quickly and in Swedish so no-one else would understand.

Elias followed Svea’s line of site and saw Kyla staring, but the second she saw Elias staring too, she looked away, her face softening from its previous glare. Elias chuckled slightly. “Her forwardness scares me.”

“She’s flirting with you, you know. She’s got the hots for you.”

“I don’t care.”

She felt his hand rest in-between her legs, just above her knee, still shielded under the blanket. When she settled into his chest, and the movie started, she felt his thumb rub circles along her skin. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary – he did this all the time – but in a room full of people, and one girl in particular who seemed to want to get him into bed with her, it was a bold move.

Svea sighed. This was going to be an interesting weekend.

>< >< >< >< ><

Saturday

Svea barely remembered falling asleep during the movie, and she barely remembered being led downstairs to their room by Elias who proceeded to tuck her into bed and cuddle against her in bed, pulling her back against his chest as he wrapped an arm around her. When she awoke the next morning on her back, Elias’s one arm was still draped over her while the other was underneath the pillows. His blonde hair – usually combed back into his signature slick look – was everywhere, sticking up in every direction because of the pillow. His face looked so peaceful as he slept, the softest of snores escaping him.

Svea and Elias did this a lot: cuddle on a couch and be a bit handsy before sleeping in the same bed together, then wake up with their limbs all tangled and their faces so close to each other if they moved one inch forward, they would kiss. Maybe they shouldn’t, because it could lead to complicated feelings and mixed signals and messages, but they did. It was what they did. It started so long ago in Ånge and followed them to Vancouver and Svea didn’t—couldn’t—never wanted to stop. Did that make her selfish? Did it hold her back from meeting a nice guy? Did it hold Elias back from meeting a nice girl?

Elias never really asked, but neither did she, about any of that sort of stuff – mostly because they both knew. They both knew the other didn’t do stuff like that – hook up with people randomly, or without thought. They weren’t like that and weren’t those types of people. The last time they’d asked each other about that, the outcome was much, much different.

It was a quiet night in Ånge, with their parents both out for one reason or another. Emil was out for a friend’s birthday, and Sigrid was already in Stockholm for university. They were watching a movie, cuddled with her legs in his lap and his arm around her back under the same blanket on the couch. Truth be told, she hadn’t been paying much attention to the movie – she had other thoughts on her mind, ever since they started cuddling and Elias had put his arm around her and settled it on the hem of her pants, his fingertips grazing her skin every so often. This wasn’t the first time they cuddled together underneath a blanket. This wasn’t even the first time his fingertips touched her skin there. But because they were alone, and because Svea was…well, curious, she couldn’t help but have that curiosity get the best of her.

“Elias?” she asked in a fake-sweet voice, turning her attention away from the TV and to his face.

“Svea?” he asked back, using an equally-fake-but-sweet tone, but not looking at her.

“Do you like any girls at school?”

That caught his attention enough to have him look down at her skeptically. “What’s this about?”

She didn’t know what to say, because it’s not like she wanted to actually tell him what was really on her mind. She should have thought this through much more. She shrugged her shoulders, trying to seem nonchalant. “I’m just wondering.”

“Why? Did you hear something?”

“No.”

“Good,” he sighed out of relief. “And to answer your question – no. I don’t like any girls at school. You know I only have eyes for you anyway.”

“Oh shut up, Elias,” Svea slapped his chest and rolled her eyes at him. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Am not!” he argued, a smile playing on his face since he knew by her tone she was joking. “You’re the only girl that’s worth my time, Svea. You know that. I wouldn’t be cuddling with anyone else but you.”

“But do you think…” she found herself saying, unable to just shut the hell up. “Like, you’re not interested in the girls in our grade, but what if a boy is interested in me?”

Elias looked down at her again, brows even more furrowed and an angry look on his face. “Who?!”

“Nobody, Elias. Calm down,” she said. “I’m just saying. Is it horrible that I wouldn’t feel comfortable if a boy in our grade wanted to kiss me or something? I mean I’m sixteen but I haven’t even had my first kiss yet,” Svea knew she was just word vomiting now. She couldn’t help herself, but besides Sigrid, Elias was the only person she could have these conversations with.

“Of course it’s not horrible,” Elias said. “You’re too good for everybody in our grade anyway. Nobody should be kissing you.”

“I don’t think I’d feel comfortable with anybody besides you,” she mumbled absent-mindedly.

“What was that?”

She sighed heavily, not wanting to have to repeat herself since she was instantly embarrassed that she’d admitted those words out loud. But she knew Elias wouldn’t let it go, so she met his eyes shyly. “I said I don’t think I’d feel comfortable with anybody besides you.”

Elias paused, realizing the weight of her words as they hung in the air. He barely even blinked as the words ruminated in his mind. Svea almost wanted to pinch him because he was too quiet – even for him. All anybody ever said about him was that he was quiet, but he was being too quiet now. She was about to impulsively just get up and leave when he finally spoke. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable with anybody besides you, either.”

“Really?” she asked softly.

“Of course not,” he said. “I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t even want to,” he expressed sheepishly.

Svea shivered. She looked into Elias’s eyes and saw everything she loved about him. His humility, his sense of humour he only reserved for her and a select few others, his sense of self. There was a reason they had stayed best friends all these years, and that high school hadn’t changed anything. “Elias…” she gulped.

“Svea,” he mimicked her tone again.

“Elias…if…do you want to—I mean, would you—I—I—if we could lose our virginity to each other, would you?”

Svea and Elias found themselves in his bedroom, staring at the other as they stood a few feet away from each other. Both were barely breathing, too focused on the emotions being shown on the face of the other to think about something as trivial as breathing. Svea knew she didn’t want to be doing this with anyone else besides Elias, but she was still nervous. What if she didn’t kiss well? What if her breath smelled? What if Elias wasn’t attracted to her once he saw her naked? What is she did something wrong and—

“Svea?”

“Elias?”

“Are you really nervous like me?” he asked sheepishly.

She nodded her head. She could almost feel her insides trembling as much as she was on the outside. “Maybe we should start kissing.”

Elias nodded his head. “Kissing is a good start.”

They stepped towards each other until they were chest-to-chest. Elias brought his hands up slowly to cup Svea’s face before he craned his neck down. Their first kiss was soft, their lips barely touching before Elias pulled away slightly to make sure it was okay with Svea. When she saw the look in his eyes and she nodded her head, he continued, deeper this time, and they continued like that for a while, kissing as Elias cupped her face.

It was Svea who first dragged her tongue against his bottom lip, and he pulled back momentarily. He looked at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded quickly. “And, um, Elias…”

“What is it?”

“You can—you can touch me places besides my face.”

Elias nodded his head nervously. “Okay. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“Are your hips okay?”

“Everywhere is okay.”

He nodded again, their lips coming together again with Svea’s tongue automatically snaking its way into Elias’s mouth. He began to do the same, his hands dragging down her sides and settling on her hips, pulling her body against his even more.

This felt nice to her. Everything with Elias felt right. Was this what she had been missing out on these past few years with boys? Svea mentally punched herself for not doing this sooner. Well, not doing this sooner with Elias. His lips were so soft, and they moved so in tune with hers. His hands traveled up her back underneath her t-shirt from her hips, making her shiver slightly. She liked how his hands felt against her skin as they grazed higher and higher, eventually meeting the bralette she was wearing. She moved her own hands down to the hem of his pants before tugging on the bottom of his t-shirt. “Can I take off your shirt?” she mumbled against his lips.

Elias didn’t say anything – he just helped her tug off his shirt before his hands went to the hem of hers and he pulled hers off as well. As her top was discarded to the side, she looked at him looking at her exposed body. He’d seen her with this much exposed skin before – in a bathing suit though – but this time was obviously different. This time was much more intimate. He feasted on the site before him, breathing heavily as he noticed the goosebumps on her skin. He looked her in the eyes and didn’t speak a word – but in that look, she knew he was telling her she was beautiful. He began kissing her again, wanting to feel her entire body with his hands and beginning to undertake that mission.

Svea tiled her head back and took in the sensation of Elias’s hands wandering all over her body, and suddenly she could feel his lips on her neck, putting her into another state of exhilaration. He kissed all the way down to her collarbone while she sunk her nails into the skin of his back. She let out a small moan as Elias sucked on her neck, not knowing that simple act could pour so much passion and energy into a person. Her hands grazed the waistband of his sweatpants. She could feel his breath hitch in his throat.

“Is that okay?” she asked, to which he nodded his head. She pushed them down gently, leaving him standing in his underwear. His hands mimicked hers. She stepped out of her pants and was now left in only her bralette and underwear. “Can we lie down on the bed?” she asked, not even bothering to wait for his answer before she sat down on the bed.

Elias looked down at Svea, and he couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face. “Oh my God…” he mumbled to himself.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, a worried look on her face.

“Your lips are so red from all the kissing. I kind of feel bad,” Elias giggled.

Svea couldn’t help but giggle as well as she brought her hand up quickly to feel her lips. They didn’t feel any more swollen, but what did she know? This was her first time, after all. She still had a burning question on her mind though. “Does—Does it feel okay? Do you like it?” she asked timidly.

Elias looked at her as if she were crazy. “You mean you can’t tell?” he asked, looking down to his lap.

Svea snorted at his crassness, shaking her head at him as they continued to giggle. Better giggling with your best friend in bed, she thought, rather than having anxiety and being uncomfortable with someone else. “Kiss me, Elias,” she smiled, and Elias was all too happy to comply.

They started by lying beside each other, kissing some more as Elias felt her up through her bralette and she palmed his hard-on through his boxers, but soon enough Elias was on top of her, and she could feel his entire body against hers. She felt like she was on fire – but in a good way; like a jolt of electricity had just shocked her. The best part of the experience was that she was doing everything subconsciously. She wasn’t thinking, for once – she was just doing. It gave her confidence to know that despite a lifetime of inaction, somehow her body knew what to do with how she was feeling. Nothing was forced. Everything felt natural, like it was supposed to be happening, and supposed to be happening only with Elias.

Then, he helped her take off her bralette.

Then, she helped him pull down his boxers.

Then, he helped her pull down her underwear.

“Did you get the condom from your brother’s room?” she whispered, and Elias nodded his head. He rolled off of her momentarily to reach over to the bedside table and grab it, opening the package and taking it out. “Do you need help?” she asked again, her breath heavy.

“I think I’ll be okay,” he said. She tried to give him some privacy by looking away, but she was too intrigued and ended up just staring. She hoped he didn’t feel embarrassed or anything – it was more of an education for both of them, really.

When he was finished, he kissed her again before getting back on top of her. “Svea…”

“Yes Elias?”

“If you ever want to stop, we can stop, okay?”

Svea nodded. “Okay.”

“Like if it hurts – we can stop. It’s not gonna be awkward if we stop. So just tell me.”

“Okay. Okay.”

He entered her slowly. It felt like nothing Svea had ever felt before, and she didn’t even know how to describe it – only that it felt right. There were no other words she could use. He pushed in a little bit further and there was a little bit of pain. She closed her eyes and winced.

“Svea?” Elias’s frantic whisper made her open her eyes. “Svea are you okay?”

“Yes, yes I’m fine,” she said unconvincingly.

“Am I hurting you?”

She couldn’t lie to him, so she nodded her head slightly. “But it’s okay.”

“I can stop—”

“Don’t,” she cut him off. “It’s okay, Elias. Just keep going.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. Don’t worry.”

He kept pushing. He hated to see the winces on her face so he decided to give her light kisses in hopes of easing the pain. When he was fully inside of her, they both stayed still to adjust to the new feeling. They were barely breathing, but had locked eyes with one another. “I love you, Svea,” he whispered tenderly.

They said those three words to each other all the time, because they did – they did love each other. What kind of love that was still remained to be seen, but because there were so many different types of love, Svea and Elias knew they loved each other in certain ways. It was why Svea had absolutely no hesitation in responding to him. “I love you too, Elias.”

As he looked into her eyes and she gave a slight nod of her head, he began moving in and out of her slowly, making sure he wasn’t hurting her or going too fast. Soon, instead of pain she began to feel pleasure, and it felt good, and she began to try to move in sync with his body. She could hear Elias grunt slightly as she did so, and she thought that he must be feeling some pleasure too, to make that noise – well at least she hoped. “Does it feel okay?” she couldn’t help but ask.

Elias nodded his head dramatically. “You feel really good.”

“I do?”

“Yeah…it…fuck, you just feel really good,” he said. She brought her hands up to cup his face. “Does it feel good for you too?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“I want to make sure it feels good for you,” he admitted. “Will…will you tell me?”

Svea nodded and Elias kissed her again, continuing to move in and out of her and making her feel good. Their soft moans became more laboured and heavier, and Svea could feel herself getting close. What her friends had always told her would happen was happening, and she almost didn’t know how to cope with the feeling. “Elias…Elias…”

“Are you close?”

“Keep going, Elias,” she closed her eyes, ready for the feeling to take over her.

“Look at me.”

She was shocked by his request, but she opened her eyes to find him staring at her. “I love you,” he told her again, and every inch of her body – from the blonde hairs atop her head to the tips of her toes – knew he meant it.

“I love you too.”

Svea felt a wave of pleasure wash over, and she arched her back and moaned out as it overtook her entire body. She felt Elias pulsating inside of her, and the desperate noises he was making, along with the heavy breathing and the trembling of his body as he buried his head into the crook of her neck meant she knew he’d just experienced the same thing.

He collapsed on top of her gently, his body still shaking as he tried to regain his breath. She wrapped her arms around him and tried to remember how this all felt – the feeling of his lips on hers; the feeling of his hands all over her body; the feeling of his hand on her breasts; the feeling of him inside her, which she knew would end soon when he’d have to pull out and they’d have to clean up. Selfishly, she wanted this moment to last forever. It was the sweetest, softest, most incredible thing she’d experienced in her short life.

Elias pushed himself up slightly, just enough so he was able to look her in the eye. “Did it feel good?” he asked.

Svea nodded her head. “It was the best feeling I’ve ever felt.”

“Me too,” Elias admitted. “I…I just wanted to make sure it felt good for you. I wouldn’t have cared if I didn—”

She couldn’t help but raise her head to kiss him to get him to shut up. She didn’t want him to ramble in this moment. He readily reciprocated the kiss, eventually pulling out of her and laying on his side. They kissed for a few moments longer before Svea pulled away. “Should we clean up?”

Elias seemed a bit taken aback by the question. “Uh, yeah, of course,” he said, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t. “But um, afterwards…can we—do you want to keep kis—I mean, do you want to stay tonight?”

When they cuddled afterwards – after cleaning up, and after Elias methodically disposed of the condom so nobody in his family would find out – Svea put on some of his old clothes and slipped into his bed. Elias followed close behind, wearing a pair of a boxers and an old t-shirt, and he cuddled up to her automatically.

Elias and Svea fell asleep like that, and when Emil got home that night and checked Elias’s bedroom to make sure he was home and saw them cuddled in the bed together, he smiled to himself.

When Svea woke up the next morning, Elias was using her chest as a pillow. And when he woke up after feeling her move, he gave her one last kiss before hearing all the noise in the kitchen. They went about their day normally. His parents didn’t think anything of it because Svea slept over so often; neither did her parents, really. They just smiled and fed her breakfast and treated her like family, as they always did. She and Elias always acknowledged what happened with each other (they didn’t tell a soul what happened – no friends, no family, nobody) but didn’t make a big deal out of it. There was no reason to. They’d done it out of love, out of some curiosity, but mostly out of love. It didn’t complicate things. If anything, it reinforced their love for one another – that they could do something so intimate, and experience it for the first time together, and not have it change things between them.

“What are you thinking about?” Elias’s soft mumble surprised her. His eyes were still closed but she could feel his legs move slightly, brushing up against hers.

“Ånge,” she lied – only slightly.

“Do you miss it?”

“Yeah,” she said softly. She missed not having to worry about Elias getting a concussion or injured in hockey. She missed how simple their lives were when they were sixteen and thought to themselves one night, “let’s have sex”.

“We’ll be home soon,” he said, finally opening his eyes. They were so sleepy as they looked right into hers, and he shifted so he could pull her body closer to his. “I know that you miss your mom and dad and that you miss Sigrid. I’m sure you miss Sundsvall too. Being by the water. When we stay at my place I know that’s your favourite part. It’s why I bought it.”

She felt a shiver run up her spine at his words. He’d never told her that before. “Do you ever get sick of me, Elias?”

“Never,” he replied automatically, nestling his head down so it was almost in the crook of her neck.

“Not even when I’m stressed about university?”

“Never.”

“Not even when you have to drive me around places because I’m scared of driving in Vancouver?”

“Never.”

“Not even when we spend time together in Ånge, then in Sundsvall, then in Stockholm, and we’re like, always together, even in the same room, all the time?”

“Never.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because we’re the same, Svea,” he said, like it was so simple. “We’re an extension of the other. And if you can’t be in the same room with yourself – if you can’t be with yourself all the time, then who can you be with?”

Another shiver ran up her spine – more powerful this time – and Elias could tell because yet again, he tightened his grip around her. He rested his lips on the exposed part of her skin where her neck met her shoulder and kissed her lightly. She looked down at him. “For the record, I never get sick of you either,” she said.

“Good,” he said. “Because I’m dragging you with me everywhere.”

“Oh yeah? And where are we going?”

“Upstairs to get coffee.”

Svea giggled as Elias rose from his position, looking down at her as his hair fell in front of his face. It was only then that should could smell the distinct aroma of the coffee he mentioned. He didn’t bother brushing his hair, instead settling with just pushing it back with his hands. Svea took a hairband and put half of her hair up in a messy bun before she followed Elias up the stairs. Luckily, they came face to face with Brock and Grace as they were pouring themselves the first batch of coffee.

“Where’s everyone else?” Svea asked, even though she was grateful for the quietness they had now.

“Still sleeping, probably too hungover to get up this early,” Grace whispered, handing Svea the cup of coffee she just poured. “Want to come out on the deck with me?”

“Of course.”

The girls went out on the deck and sat at the table; the last thing heard being Brock chirping Elias about how bad his hair looked. “Did you guys have a good sleep?” Grace asked.

Svea nodded her head. “Thanks for putting us down there.”

Grace gave her a knowing nod. “I knew, don’t worry.” She paused as she took a sip of her coffee. “So you and Elias…” she began.

Svea knew immediately where the conversation was headed. Although Svea loved Grace she wasn’t going to tell her what he’d said to her that morning. It was a personal moment not meant to be shared. Grace had been telling her for months that it was clear Elias felt something different, but Svea wasn’t so sure. He’d always acted the same around her, so she honestly couldn’t tell. “Still nothing, Grace.”

“You guys are going to be the death of me,” she was exasperated. “Do you honestly think he feels nothing for you?”

Svea shook her head. “I know that Elias loves me,” she began. “That’s not a question. But does he love me the way you’re implying? I don’t know. We’ve known each other for so long, Grace. We’ve been through everything together. It’s different when you literally grow up with someone. But like…dating? Romantic love? We’re only twenty-one. I don’t know if Elias even wants that with me.” She paused to fiddle with her hands. “Besides, I think Kyla is really into him.”

“Kyla and McKenna werent’t even supposed to be here. And if Kyla tries something with Elias, I will throw her into the lake,” Grace deadpanned. Svea couldn’t help but laugh. Grace reached over and placed her hand on Svea’s forearm. “Svea, come on. If you think Elias doesn’t want that with you, you’re wrong.”

Svea looked at the window, seeing the boys talking about something while standing next to the stove. She could only imagine how much Brock was chirping Elias about his hair – he probably hadn’t stopped. Sometimes, at night, she truly did wonder if Elias saw her in any other way besides his best friend – if he saw her as a romantic interest, as a partner – hell, sometimes even just as a woman. But she tried not to dwell on those thoughts for too long, because she knew they’d overtake her more rational thoughts eventually, and then she’d have a mess on her hands. Elias, in many ways, was her everything, and more than anything, she wondered if she was his everything too.

“So you and Svea…” Brock began, his voice low so no-one upstairs would overhear, and so Svea and Grace outside couldn’t hear him either. Even though he would love to see them together, and thought they were taking their sweet ass time (obviously) and were made for each other (obviously), he wanted to stay out of it and let things happen naturally. If there was one thing he knew about Petey, it was to not force him into things. Grace had other ideas. She wanted Brock to help her get to the bottom of it. She wanted to know all the details. And, well, Brock loved his girlfriend, so here he was.

“What about it?” Elias asked.

“Bud, you can’t stand there and tell me there’s nothing between you.”

Elias sighed. “I don’t want to get into it.”

“That’s great, ‘cause I do. You mean to tell me nothing happened last night?”

Elias gave Brock one of his infamous death stares. He knew Brock wouldn’t let it go and that they death stare had no use. He shook his head slightly. “No, nothing happened last night. I don’t want to risk it.”

“Risk what?”

“Losing her.”

Brock furrowed his brows. “What on earth makes you think you’d lose her? Do you honestly think she doesn’t have feelings for you?”

“We’ve grown up together, Brock. It’s different. I know Svea loves me. She’s been there for me through everything, through all the hockey, and she never complained once,” Elias shook his head again. “I can’t be selfish and demand this from her too. Besides, I don’t know if she wants that with me. It…I…just…I love her, Brock – in all the ways a person can love another person, but—”

“But do you love her romantically?” Brock asked.

Elias paused. His mouth dropped open, about to say his answer that he knew definitively in his heart, until out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure. He looked over to his right to see Kyla stretching at the foot of the stairs, her pyjama t-shirt riding up to expose her midriff. It was very obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra. “Good morning,” she cooed after she finished her stretch, looking directly at Elias.

Brock looked like he was about to punch a wall. Elias looked away from what she was trying to show off. “Good morning.”

“Is that coffee I smell?” she asked, walking into the kitchen.

“Just made,” Brock said, his voice monotone. “Are the others up?”

“McKenna’s just about to come down,” she said, stepping in between Elias and Brock. Brock left the situation. She peeked up at Elias through her eyelashes. “Have a good sleep?” she asked.

“The best.”

“Is it cold in the basement?” she asked, her voice low so only Elias could hear her. “Need some warming up?”

Her forwardness really did scare him. “It’s not cold down there when Svea’s there,” he said.

Kyla’s face immediately dropped. Before she could try to flirt some more, Grace and Svea walked back in from the back deck. Svea was almost immediately looking at Elias, trying to survey the situation. “Should we start breakfast?” Grace asked, moving past Kyla towards the fridge. Grace gave her a death stare for being so close to Elias. “What do you want to work on?”

As more of the guests made their way down the stairs, every chose a job to do – Svea and Elias worked on the bacon; Brock and Grace the scrambled eggs; Kyla made toast; Marcus worked on setting the table; Brayden made the sausages; Brett and Parker cut up fruit. McKenna and Hallie made more coffee. Breakfast was ready in no time.

When everybody began to sit around the table, Svea was shocked to see Kyla sit beside her. “So Brock told us you live in Vancouver, too,” she said, smiling. “Whereabouts?”

“Oh, um, Yaletown. Same as Brock and Elias,” she said, omitting the face that she lived with him.

“Oh my God, that’s so cool,” Kyla put some scrambled eggs onto her plate. Svea knew she didn’t really care. “And how do you know Elias?”

Svea knew Kyla cared about that, so she gave into the questioning because she knew everyone else in the house save for Brock, Grace, and Elias would think she was a bitch if she didn’t. “We met when we were three – we grew up together in Sweden.”

“And then you followed him to Vancouver?”

“No no no,” Svea shook her head vehemently. She could see Elias smile as he settled in on the edge of the bench beside her. “Elias followed me.”

“Elias followed you?”

“Svea always wanted to go to UBC because her mom is originally from Vancouver,” Grace piped in, stuffing a piece of strawberry into her mouth. “Svea got accepted first. Then Petey was drafted, but stayed in Sweden for a year. Then he signed with the Canucks and the rest is history.”

“Svea could have told me, Grace,” Kyle said teasingly as she gave a look to Svea. “You’re so quiet, girl. Speak up a bit.”

“Svea speaks when she wants to,” Grace quipped again. “And more importantly, when she needs to.”

When breakfast was over, everybody showered, got ready, and changed into their bathing suits before heading outside for another day out on the water and patio. Brock commandeered his boat and suggested some wakeboarding and other watersports out on the lake. In the smaller boat, Brayden, Brett, Parker, and Hallie followed them out onto the lake. There was no way Svea would wakeboard, but she knew Elias liked it. She opted to take photos and videos of Elias doing so instead. His parents were going to kill him.

They were out having fun on the water for so long – diving off the boat, swimming, wakeboarding, tanning, drinking, relaxing, talking – that nobody noticed they didn’t have lunch. They just kept up their activities, with Elias wakeboarding a few times, followed by Brock while Marcus commandeered the boat. Parker did a few cool flips while he wakeboarded. It was hot, the sun was shining, and Svea was having the time of her life. For those hours they were out on the lake, what Elias had said to her that morning in bed, and what Kyla had said and done (and continued to say and do) didn’t matter; she was just a girl out on a boat with her friends, and life couldn’t get any better.

But then, of course, reality set back in. More hours isolated on the boat meant more drinking. Not from Svea, of course, because she knew her limit and because she didn’t want to get drunk in front of, statistically, more people she didn’t know than did; and not from Brock or Brett, because they had to drive the damn boats; but from the others – Marcus, before he drove the boat; and Grace, because she wanted to have fun; and Kyla, because she was Kyla; and McKenna, because Svea had no clue anymore because it wasn’t like McKenna spoke three words to her since the moment she got there.

Svea was expecting nothing when everyone wanted to take one last dip in the lake before they went back to the house. So when they all stood at the edge of the boat, and when Brock was finished taking the Instagram picture for Kyla of all of them with their hands around each other’s backs, they all jumped. Svea hit the water hard and deep, like divers usually did, but something felt different. Something felt…off. And when she emerged from the water, wiping her eyes and trying to figure out what it was, it hit her like a tonne of bricks.

Where was her top?

She felt everything in her stop. When Elias emerged from the water and looked around to find her, the first thing he noticed was the petrified look on her face. “Svea?” he asked.

“Yooooohooooo!” McKenna’s giggles were loud. Svea turned around to face everybody else: Grace, Kyla, Marcus, Brayden, Brett, Parker, Hallie, and McKenna, only to see McKenna waving her bathing suit top above her head. Svea’s bathing suit top.

She was absolutely mortified.

She screamed out in fear, finally having the wherewithal to cover her exposed breasts by hugging herself. Kyla’s laughs and enthusiastic woos filled her mind as McKenna whipped it around like a lasso, like it was some prize they’d won. In a way, it was: she’d won in making Svea feel completely embarrassed and uncomfortable and humiliated.

“What the hell McKenna! Give it back!” she heard Brock scream from the boat. Svea watched as Elias swam over to McKenna and snatch the top out of her hands. Grace looked like she was going to perform a ritualistic murder right then and there.

“Oh come on! It’s just a little bit of fun!” McKenna tried to defend herself.

“It’s how you get christened in Minnesota!” Kyla added. “Everybody knows that!”

Svea tried not to focus on them anymore; they would defend themselves to the last second before the door dropped for the noose, so there wasn’t any point in listening. Instead, she tried to focus on calming her emotions that she knew would bubble over – the tears that were threatening to escape, the flush of red to her cheeks, the nervous shaking from all the embarrassment of these girls and these men probably seeing her practically naked body underneath the water before she even realized what was going on. She tried to focus on Elias, swimming back to her with her bathing suit top in his hands. “Elias…” she said her voice extremely shaky.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he cooed, swimming up to cover her before handling the bikini top, trying to figure out which part went over her head. She grabbed it from him to try to help. “I got you, it’s okay.”

“Elias I’m so embarrassed,” she cried, her hands trembling too much to do it. “I can’t—I can’t—”

“Here, let me,” he mumbled, taking the top back from her.

“Could they see everything? Be honest.”

“No. You can’t see anything in lake water Svea,” he said quickly.

She knew he was probably lying to her – the lake water was clear as fucking day. “Elias—”

“It’s okay—”

“Elias I’m mortified.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he kept repeating, putting the top back on over her head before turning her around without warning so he could tie it for her. “You’re okay, Svea. You’re okay.”

“Everybody saw my boobs Elias,” she cried again, still clutching onto them through her bikini top like they were going to fall out again. He wrapped an arm around her and began swimming back to the boat. “Only you’ve ever seen my boobs.”

Elias looked at her when she said the last sentence. She couldn’t discern the look on his face. “And it stayed that way,” he said. “Nobody saw, Svea. The water was all…wavy.”

Elias let her climb back onto the boat first, where Brock was ready with an open towel for her. “Here you go, sweetheart,” he said, wrapping her in it.

“Thanks, Brock.”

He absolutely hated hearing the defeat and embarrassment in her voice. “Grace will take care of Kyla and McKenna, don’t worry,” he said quickly as everybody else began climbing up the ladder and back onto the boat.

The first thing McKenna did when she got back on the boat – even before drying herself off, which was what you were supposed to do – was finish off her beer. Grace glared at her once she finally grabbed a towel. “You need to apologize,” Grace said firmly, looking right at McKenna. “What you did was so mean.”

“Oh come on, it wasn’t a big deal,” McKenna rolled her eyes. Svea wondered if that was the alcohol talking or if McKenna was really like this. She couldn’t imagine Brock being friends with someone like her. But then she remembered that Kyla and McKenna weren’t even supposed to be here this weekend, and it all sort of made sense. Maybe they were friends of friends, and Brock was too nice to say no. Maybe he knew them only casually, and they tagged along unannounced to take advantage of being at an NHL player’s house for the weekend.

“It was a big deal to Svea,” Grace continued, her voice still firm. Grace looked at her to see her face still sullen.

“It’s fine,” Svea mumbled out, Elias’s arm wrapped tightly around her shoulder as she sat on his lap. She didn’t want to cause any trouble, regardless. She was a guest at Brock’s house as much as McKenna was, and didn’t want or need the added attention on her.

“I’m sooooorrryyyy, Svea,” McKenna laughed through her apology. “But you’re considered a Minnesotan now, so take that a bonus.”

Svea didn’t respond. She just nodded her head down and nestled further onto Elias, letting her head lean against his as Brock navigated back to the house. McKenna and Kyla didn’t have a care in the world as they continued to talk to each other the entire way back, shooting a few looks her way throughout the journey back. They disembarked the boat first before running into the house. Brock helped Svea get off the boat, where she immediately went down to the basement to take a shower. She felt like she had to get all the lake grime off of her before everybody started prepping for dinner.

As she changed into regular clothes and stood in front of the mirror trying to French braid her hair, she heard the hustle and bustle from upstairs. She tried to pay it no mind until she began to hear voices – all too familiar voices.

“Petey is so hot and cold, don’t you think?” Kyla voice was a bit muffled, but it definitely sounded more sober than what it sounded like half an hour ago when she issued her fake apology. Svea stood silent. Maybe eavesdropping wasn’t the most noble of things to do, but she was going to do it anyway. “I don’t know if he even registers that I’m flirting with him.”

“I think that alien is hot for only one person here, and that’s Svea,” she heard McKenna retort.

“You think so?”

“You don’t see the way he looks at her all the time? They’re even sleeping in the same bed.”

“Yeah, but Brock said they grew up together in Sweden—”

“So?” McKenna retorted. “That ‘she’s like my little sister’ line guys always pull is bullshit. And Petey didn’t even say that about her. They’re best friends. Well, best friends. You know what that’s code for.”

“Well, hopefully by the end of the weekend he’ll have a new best friend,” Kyla chirped.

“Listen, if anybody in this house could pull it off, it’s you,” McKenna encouraged her. “He was eyeing you in your bikini yesterday. I mean, you’re much more appealing that way than she is. Every guy loves a good flirt. Just use what you’ve got and I’m sure he’ll open up to it. Only problem is Svea’s gonna have to sleep on the couch when you do.”

The girls giggled and Svea could feel her blood boil. Elias wasn’t hers by any means, and she didn’t own him in any way, shape, or form, but Elias was hers. In every sense, he was hers, and she was getting angry at herself for getting angry at these girls for wanting him. Who was she to stop him from getting what he wanted if he really wanted Kyla? And who was she to cry and be upset about it when Elias was a grown man and she was a grown woman capable of making their own decisions about who they liked and who they slept with? She quickly fastened the end of her French braid with an elastic and wiped away the angry tears that fell, trying hard not to cry so she wouldn’t go back upstairs with red eyes. She’d already been embarrassed once today; she didn’t need to be embarrassed again.

She waited a few minutes until her emotions subsided before she walked back upstairs. Almost everybody had congregated in the kitchen. She saw Elias sitting outside on the deck. Kyla was already all over him, pressed up against him. She didn’t quit. Svea had to at least admire her persistence.

That night, after dinner and drinking and drinking games and loud music and laughing and singing and even some drunken dancing, Svea watched as Kyla plopped herself into Elias’s lap as they all sat in Adirondack chairs around the firepit near the water. Grace bought boxes of smores kits and they were wrapping them in foil for everyone to toast over the fire. The boys were still drinking and finishing off the rest of the beers; Kyla was finishing hers as she sat on Elias’s lap. Kyla was looking into Elias’s eyes as she sat on Elias’s lap. Kyla was giggling and flirting as she sat on Elias’s lap. Kyla wiggled her butt suggestively as she sat on Elias’s lap.

And as long as Kyla was going to sit on Elias’s lap, Svea couldn’t be there.

She wondered if Grace could see her almost constant glances in their direction. She felt a rumbling in her stomach, probably from all the alcohol that was now mixing with the jealousy that roared in her belly. A lethal combination for anyone, Svea thought, least for her, who’d grown up with him and watched him mature and was now watching as another girl was trying to take him from her, slipping him through her fingers like sand on a beach.

“Can you save mine? I just want to go to the washroom for a quick second,” Svea said as she stood up.

“Don’t be long. There’s only so long I can wait to have chocolate,” she smiled and winked.

Svea walked the path up to Brock’s house and walked inside. Luckily there was nobody else inside, so she was free to be alone – alone with her thoughts, her emotions, and the tears that threatened to spill, yet again. Did she have a right to be jealous? Did she have a right to feel these feelings for Elias and have them bubble up because of the persistent actions of another girl? She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what to think.

Svea didn’t know how long she was in the house alone for. But as she was lost in her thoughts, she heard the screen door open. She looked up to see Elias. He was glad he didn’t have to look hard to find her. “Hi.”

“Hi Elias.”

“What are you doing in here?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

Svea shrugged her shoulders. “Just thinking.” She used that answer a lot on him. He was used to it. The alternative to talking, which she expected Kyla did a lot of outside with him anyway. He walked over and sat beside her on the couch – right beside her, leaving her no room. He took her hand and held it in his. Her brows furrowed slightly. “Why’re your hands so clammy?” she asked.

“Why do you think?” he asked. “I had to spend twenty minutes outside with Kyla on my lap trying to get me hard.”

The jealousy roared in her belly again. Here it was. He came in to ask her the inevitable request for her to sleep on the couch tonight so he could bring Kyla down to the basement instead. Grace would have to get her an extra blanket and pillow. Her back would hurt tomorrow morning. She’d have to wake up whenever the first person came down and offer to make coffee and—

“Are you here to ask me to sleep on the couch tonight?” Svea blurted out.

Elias furrowed his brows, looking at her like she had three heads. “Why would I make you sleep on the couch?”

“Because you want to sleep with Kyla,” Svea said matter-of-factly.

Elias froze. “Svea,” he deadpanned.

“Elias?”

“Svea, you’re the smartest person I know, but you can be incredibly dumb sometimes.”

Svea was taken aback by his words. He often teased her like this, maintaining that she often didn’t see things that were right in front of her. Maybe it was one of her many faults, along with so many other things she was learning about herself this weekend, perhaps the worst being how possessive she was over him. “What do you mean?”

“Svea—” Elias tried to begin, but he couldn’t find the right words. He sighed before continuing. “Do you remember that night in Ånge where my brother rented all the Austin Powers movies and we spent the entire night watching them?”

“Yes…”

“Well here’s a line for you,” he said, trying to remember it word for word. “If I was the last man on earth, and she was the last woman on earth, and the future of the human race depended on our having sex to keep the population going, I still would not sleep with Kyla.”

Svea’s breath hitched in her throat. “But Elias—”

“How could you honestly think I’d want to have sex with her?”

“She’s into you. And she’s pretty, Elias, and tanned, and fit…and she’s—”

“No, Svea,” he interrupted her firmly. “I would have rather had you on my lap out there. You know that.”

“I can’t get you hard,” Svea mumbled.

Elias smiled amusingly at her words. “You don’t think so?”

She didn’t appreciate him mocking her. She rolled her eyes at him and his attempt to make light of this situation. “Elias—”

“Svea, you’ve been getting me hard since we were sixteen and we were each other’s first,” he finally confessed, albeit a bit crassly. It wasn’t the way he wanted it to be out in the open, but right now, there was no turning back.

The words hung in the air as they looked each other in the eye. Svea couldn’t believe what had just come out of his mouth. Elias was always honest with her, always, so to say that she was shocked he’d just admitted that out loud was an understatement. Elias was a quiet guy, always, and she was a quiet girl, always, and that was…new. “Are…are you s-serious, Elias?” she stuttered out.

“I would never lie to you, Svea,” he said. “Now can you come back outside and sit on my lap?”

When Elias and Svea walked outside, he brought her directly onto the dock, right to the end so they were looking out at the lake. She made eye contact with three people on the way there: Brock, who sent a wink her way when he noticed the two of them together; Grace, who sent her own wink and wiggled her eyebrows; and Kyla, who sent her a death stare when she noticed Elias was holding her hand to guide her through the relative darkness. When they finally reached the end of the dock, Svea saw one of Brock’s Adirondack chairs and a blanket. Elias adjusted it so it faced the lake. Svea looked back towards the backyard; everyone was dispersed in their own little groups, allowing them the alone time and privacy Elias apparently wanted.

“What are you looking at?” Elias asked quietly, trying to preserve the tranquility of the dusk.

“Nothing,” she brushed him off. She wasn’t going to tell him she was making sure Kyla wasn’t stomping down the dock to join them.

“Then come sit.”

When she looked back at him over her shoulder, he was already sitting on the Adirondack chair, unfolding the blanket. It was a scene Svea had encountered countless times before – in Sundsvall, specifically, on the balcony of his apartment when they’d go out at night and look out at the water and the lights of the city across the Bothnian Sea. She moved to sit on his lap, settling into him as he wrapped an arm around her and lay the blanket over them. He draped his other arm across her lap while the one around her back snuck underneath her shirt, rubbing the skin at the small of her back. When he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, his nose and lips grazing her skin, a shiver ran up her spine. She was sure he could tell.

She began to remember the things he’d said since they got to Minnesota: how he always worried about her, about how they were an extension of each other, how he bought his apartment in Sundsvall because he knew being by the water was her favourite. And now, with the comment said not even five minutes ago about her getting him hard since they were sixteen. She thought about the implications of it all, and what it meant for her – what it meant for them, really, because she agreed with what he said about being an extension of each other.

She was apparently lost in her thoughts – too lost for a few moments, because when she finally came to, she felt his lips graze the skin between her shoulder and neck. “What are you doing, Elias?” she asked, her voice as quiet as his was before.

He didn’t answer. Instead, they made eye contact and he looked at her for a few moments before leaning in and kissing her. Like everything Elias did, he was perfect at it. Soft lips, a passionate touch, and a tenderness nobody else could duplicate. Much like when they were sixteen, she didn’t want it to end. But when it did, with Elias pulling away first so he could look her in the eyes again, there was something else to be said. “I love you.”

They were words Svea had heart countless times before – countless – but this time, it felt different. Completely different. She froze slightly. “You love me, Elias?”

“Of course I love you.”

“No, Elias,” she bit her lip. “You, like…love me?”

“Yes, Svea,” he said, his hand traveling further up her back. “If you ever want to thank Kyla for one thing, it’s for making me realize how much I love you, and how long I’ve loved you for, because all her attention made me realize that I only want that kind of attention from you, that I only want you, and nobody else, and the thought of being with anyone else, or the thought of you being with anyone else makes me sick to my stomach.”

She felt a rush of blood to her cheeks as she blushed. How long had she been waiting for him to hear those words and she didn’t even know? How long had she wanted him to say those words to her, deep down inside somewhere within her? Had she known this entire time and just not realize it? Had she felt the same this entire time too and just didn’t verbalize it? She couldn’t help but think he was being a bit of a drama queen about it though. “You brought me all the way to Brock’s house in Minnesota to tell me this?”

Elias giggled like a schoolgirl. “I guess I did.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I never said I was smart like you,” he said. “Remember when all the kids in class would call me space boy and alien boy because they said I looked like an alien?”

“You do look like an alien.”

Elias nudged her. She laughed before snuggling back into him. “If I’m the alien, you’re the stars, Svea.”

She smiled. This time, it was her that moved to kiss him, doing it by her own accord and with such conviction she surprised even herself. It was like she was sixteen all over again, except she wasn’t; she was still Elias’s best friend; still the most important person in his life; still getting him hard, apparently. Yet now, she was twenty-one – older, somewhat wiser; a university student, not some precocious high schooler; living in Vancouver, not in Ånge; having Elias telling her he loved her – loved her loved her – not just as friends. That he made clear. And although she was still coming to terms with it, and still couldn’t really wrap her head around it, at least her body was reacting to the news appropriately, much like her body had reacted appropriately all those years ago in Ånge, when she came up with the brilliant idea they’d acted on.

The only thing that could interrupt their kissing was Brock screaming at the top of his lungs. As Elias and Svea pulled apart, they watched as Brock ran down the dock in only his boxers, somersaulting into the lake like some sort of Olympic diver. They couldn’t help but laugh out loud as he came back up, whipping his hair to the side so it was out of his eyes.

“Brock!” Grace yelled, grimacing as she ran after him. “You’re going to smell like a wet dog!”

Tanner had passed out on the bathroom floor, and everybody decided to leave him there just in case. Marcus faceplanted into the couch, saying he couldn’t deal with stairs. Brock said the dive into the lake sobered him up, so Grace dragged him up the stairs into their bedroom. McKenna and Kyla were the first to shut their bedroom door, but not before Kyla gave one last look at Elias’s arms wrapped around Svea and wishing she was in that position.

When they descended down into the basement together, Svea could barely get a word in edgewise before Elias shut the door and his lips found hers again. No less passionate and no less soft, his hands attached themselves to her hips, almost immediately finding their way underneath her top while his tongue slipped into her mouth. His hands felt warm against her skin but they still sent shivers down her spine. She ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back so it wouldn’t tickle her like it sometimes did.

He guided her towards the bed. When the backs of her legs hit the edge, Elias’s hands traveled higher. Svea’s breath hitched in her throat as his fingers traced the edges of her bralette. He noticed and stopped kissing her. “You’re not scared, are you?” he asked hesitantly.

“No no no,” she whispered as she shook her head. “Just…nervous.”

“Why would you be nervous?”

“I…don’t know,” Svea said. She did know why. She just didn’t want to say it out loud and risk embarrassing herself. “I…I haven’t been with anybody besides you, Elias,” she finally admitted.

He seemed sort of shocked for only a moment. “You never did anything first year university when you were here alone?” he asked.

“No. I couldn’t bring myself to. I didn’t…I didn’t want to if it wasn’t you.”

Elias nodded his head. He understood. “Me too.”

Her brows furrowed. “Me too what?”

“I haven’t been with anybody beside you,” he confessed.

Svea couldn’t hold back her shock like he could. “What? Not even in Vaxjo? You were the star of the team,” she reasoned. She found it hard to believe because there was no way – no way – that he didn’t get offers left, right, and centre while he was playing for them, especially during their championship run.

“I never…no,” he shook his head. “I didn’t want to if it wasn’t you, either,” he used her own words.

Svea took a deep breath. God, they were so stereotypical. They were such losers. A star hockey player and a first-year university student living away from home for the first time and they didn’t take advantage of their situations because they didn’t want to without each other. “We’re so lame, Elias,” she deadpanned.

Elias couldn’t help but laugh at her words. “I know, right? We’re pathetic.”

“So pathetic.”

Elias gave her a quick kiss as they giggled. “Svea?”

“Elias?”

“I love you.”

Svea smiled. “I love you too.”

“Can I make up for lost time? Can we make up for lost time?” he asked softly.

Svea took another deep breath. Her hands rose to rub his chest as she nodded her head, momentarily forgetting the small little detail that they were at Brock’s house. In the basement. Just as Elias dipped down to continue kissing her, she brought her hands up to his lips. “We’re at Brock’s house.”

Elias furrowed his brows. “So?”

“Won’t it be a bit awkward?”

He laughed again. “Svea, come on. More awkward than doing it in the bed I slept in as a kid?”

“Elias!” she exclaimed, the both of them giggling uncontrollably. “Well when you put it like that—”

Elias couldn’t wait any longer. He dipped his head down so he could start kissing her again, his tongue slipping in with ease. With his hands travelling higher and higher, he eventually helped tug her top off, letting it fall by their feet. He could feel the goosebumps along her skin. He could feel her tugging at his shirt, too, and helped with taking it off.

When they moved to lie down on the bed, Elias made sure to kiss at Svea’s neck and collarbone. The little sighs and gasps that escaped her was his fuel to keep going, travelling lower and lower until he reached her chest. “What do you like?” his voice husky.

That was a mute question. Not only could Svea not think right now with Elias’s lips so close to her boobs, and it wasn’t like she had the experience to know what she liked and didn’t like so she could tell him. “I—I don’t know. Anything.”

“Anything?”

“It’s you, Elias. Anything will feel good.”

He started to touch her more as his lips found her neck and clavicle again. He could feel her back arch and her hips pushing into his as his lips got close to her breasts again. When he pushed the material down and kissed a path down, he heard her sigh. “Is that okay?”

“Yes yes yes,” she said quickly and successively, the sensation clearly new to her.

He continued his handiwork expertly, his tongue grazing along her exposed skin. The mewls she let out almost drove him insane, and he could feel himself getting harder by the second. He had waited for so long that he wasn’t sure if he was going to last as long as he wanted to and do all the things he wanted to do to her, with her. He kissed a trail back up to her lips and his hands wandered down to her shorts, unbuttoning them as quickly as he could.

When he slipped off her shorts, she worked on his. “Do you have a condom, Elias?” she breathed out.

He did – he was prepared – but he froze momentarily. “Of course, but—”

“But what?” she asked worriedly.

“No no,” he said, trying to backtrack. “I’m not—it’s—I want to do so much,” he admitted.

Svea shook her head. “I can’t wait. Please just…just—”

“Svea—”

“Please Elias, I just want you inside me right now,” she practically begged. “We have all the time in the world to do so much. I just want to feel you inside me.”

Elias didn’t need to be told twice. He understood where she was coming from – he knew that, at least for him, he’d been waiting a long time to do this again, and although he wanted to savour the moment, he also didn’t want to waste any time. So he came back up and rolled over slightly, reaching down into his bag and grabbing a string of condoms. Svea couldn’t help but smile as she saw all the packages. He leaned back on his knees and ripped the first one off and ripped it open. Svea sat up to take it from his hands and help him roll it on. She even pumped him a few times when she was finished, kissing him fervently.

Maybe she had the right idea, to just go for it and not wait. Because if she kept doing that, Elias knew he wasn’t going to last long.

As she lay back down, Elias slipped off her underwear and loomed over her. On instinct, one of his hands went to her thighs and she wrapped her legs around him. His hand travelled from her thigh to her hot centre, and she flinched at his touch. He couldn’t help but smile down at her at how sensitive she was. “You okay, pretty girl?”

“I need you, Elias,” she huffed out.

When he entered her she cried out in pleasure. He kissed her passionately as he pushed further and further in, and when he bottomed out, he made sure to give her time to adjust to his size. Due to their confessions earlier, he knew it had been a while for her – a while for both of them – so he’d need to adjust too. He’d almost forgotten how good she felt; how perfectly she fit around him. It wasn’t like he dreamt about how she felt around him for four years now. “You alright?” he asked quickly.

“You feel so good, Elias,” she said, her eyes still closed.

“Does it hurt?” he asked quickly, wanting to make sure he wasn’t hurting her like he had the first time.

She shook her head and finally opened her eyes. “No. It feels good. It feels…it feels right.”

Elias gave her a quick kiss. He began moving in and out of her slowly, and she began to roll her hips in tune with his movements. “I love you, Svea,” he whispered against her lips.

“I love you too, Elias.”

“When we get back to Vancouver I’m going to make love to you on every inch of our apartment,” he said. “And then when we get back to my place in Sundsvall, there too.”

“You promise?” she asked, her smile cheeky, the possibility of making love to Elias over and over and over again giving her so much joy.

“We have to make up for lost time, don’t we?” his smile became equally as cheeky. “Besides, we need to live out the first-year university year and the Vaxjo year where we did fuck all because we’re so lame.”

The both of them giggled, and Svea remembered back to their first encounter at sixteen, where she thought it was better to laugh with your best friend in bed than to be nervous with somebody else. She hoped that they’d continue to giggle; that they’d continue to laugh together during their most intimate moments. She ran her nails up and down his back before digging them into his shoulder blades. “Make love to me, Elias,” she bit her lip.

Elias did just that, increasing his pace as he moved in and out of her, his small grunts and her small moans filling the room. After a while, when Svea felt herself getting close, she arched her back and brought Elias’s face down to kiss him. “Cum with me.”

“You’re close?”

She nodded her head. “I want you to cum with me, Elias.”

Elias couldn’t hold back. She felt so good and there was no way he’d be able to last any longer, so he let go completely. As she made him see stars, he felt her walls tighten around him. She cried out in pleasure as she came with him, holding on to him tightly so she could feel his body pressed against hers. She kept her limbs wrapped around him as he collapsed on top of her, trying to catch their breath. She played with the hair at the nape of his neck as they both calmed down.

“I love you so much,” he mumbled into her nape of her neck as his breathing finally began to steady. “You have no idea Svea.”

“I think I do,” she responded softly.

Elias pulled out and quickly ran to the washroom. Svea – too hung up on trying to savour the feeling, and too tired to care – stayed in bed and watched him through droopy eyes. When he came back, he slipped into bed and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck. As they drifted off to sleep, Svea couldn’t help but think that she was the luckiest girl in the world. Elias, conversely, affirmed his own thoughts that he was the luckiest guy alive.

>< >< >< >< ><

Sunday

When Elias woke the next morning, he was using Svea’s chest as a pillow. He didn’t remember how they got in that position, and truthfully, he didn’t care to. All he cared about was the feeling of her skin beneath his touch, how her breathing was slow and steadied, and how one of her hands was conspicuously still at the nape of his neck, like she’d been playing with his hair all night. Intoxicated by it all, he couldn’t help but graze his lips over her skin lightly, wanting to wake her up as slowly and peacefully as he could.

His lips grazed and kissed along her collarbone, then moved up to her neck before dipping down again. He could feel her move slightly, her foot dragging along his leg as she sighed slightly, finally opening her eyes. “G’morning,” she mumbled, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Good morning, pretty girl,” he mumbled against her skin, craning his head up so he could kiss her on her lips.

They gave each other long, lazy kisses for a while, until Elias moved down to her neck again, cupping her breast underneath the covers. Svea moaned softly. “We’re going straight into this, aren’t we?”

Elias gave her a quick kiss. “Like I said last night, we have to make up for lost time,” he reasoned. He’d spend the entire summer making up for lost time if he had to (read: wanted to).

She smiled. Before she could say anything else, loud footsteps could be heard upstairs. Elias groaned, because it meant people were up. And if people were up, it meant they wouldn’t get the privacy he wanted to do what he wanted. Svea giggled at his groans, which only made him do it louder. “What the hell are they doing up so early?” he mumbled.

“I don’t think it’s early,” Svea said. “I think it’s us.” She looked over to her side to see the time on the alarm radio. “It’s definitely us.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost 9:30.”

Elias grumbled again. Svea laughed and slipped out from underneath him, not taking her eyes off of him as he nestled back into bed. “Elias?”

“Svea?”

“I love you.”

He smiled like a schoolboy – like he was a kid again and stole a cookie from the jar. “I love you too, Svea.”

“You guys awake yet?!” Grace’s voice boomed down on them from the top of the stairs. She was smart enough not to descend. “Breakfast is almost ready and Brock won’t save you bacon, Petey!”

They gave each other one last kiss before quickly washing their faces and going upstairs. Almost everybody was already seated around the table for breakfast, so they took their seats and filled their plates with the passed food. Elias’s hand grazed Svea’s thighs underneath the table. Svea tried not to let it show.

“What took you guys so long?” Hallie asked as she bit into a piece of toast.

“We were just talking,” Elias was purposely vague.

“What the fuck do you two even talk about?! Neither of you talk!” Tanner exclaimed. “You’re both so quiet!”

Elias smiled. At any other point in the weekend, he probably would have gotten mad at the comment. He probably would have gotten defensive or uptight or however he usually got when people told him he was so quiet and needed to talk more; he also would have been protective of Svea, who took those types of comments more personally, and called the other person a gaphals or something equally as Swedish in frustration because when he was frustrated he couldn’t find the English words for things as easily.

But this time, things were different. None of that mattered anymore. Anybody could say whatever they wanted, make whatever observations they wanted about the two of them as people, but all that mattered, whether the outside world cared or not, was that he and Svea loved each other. Simple as that. It was corny, and it was cliched, but Elias didn’t care.

#elias pettersson #elias pettersson blurb #elias pettersson imagine #elias pettersson one shot #elias pettersson drabble #elias pettersson fic #vancouver canucks imagine #vancouver canucks one shot #vancouver canucks drabble #vancouver canucks fic #the space series

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wowweeharrystyles · 4 years

Text

Part 15 | The Final Show | 5.9k words

‘Sequins & Zippers’ Summary: An internship with Harry Lambert transformed into a job of a lifetime - Aurora Del Gatto finds herself touring the world with the one & only Harry Styles as his ‘Head of Wardrobe.’ Aurora is nothing but nerves & excitement as she packs her bags & almost 100 custom designer suits that belong to an unbelievably kind rockstar. She never thought she’d fall in love on top of it all.

Sequins & Zippers Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/N: as the title suggests, this is the final show, the end of s&z. I want to thank literally anyone who has read a single word of this story. I started Aurora & Harry’s story at the end of hslot18 & was working on it off & on but set out to finish & post it all in 2020. Thank you for not only reading but for bearing with me when I posted late or not at all. I love these 2 with my whole ass heart. & a big sappy shout out to @sadaboutniall for chatting through S&Z with me for well over a year & not getting sick of me (or at least not telling me AKLNADSHADF) & for still to this day sending me links to random things & being like ‘omg this is so aurora’ 🖤

anyways, here we go, the final part to Aurora & Harry’s story, for now.

love you all, mean it.

Don’t forget to reblog :)

__________

Aurora made sure to wake up before Harry. She knew it wouldn’t be too hard considering how late they were up after the show last night, high off the 1st show in LA and celebrating Mitch’s birthday. She wrote him a note saying she’d meet him at The Forum and left it on his bedside table. Tiptoeing through Harry’s unfamiliar LA home, Aurora gets ready quickly. It’s gonna be a long day, she knows it and the early sunrise is just starting to cast through the windows. Her phone dings from her bag on the counter and it’s Jeff letting her know a car is picking her up from Harry’s in 10 minutes.

She’s still not used to all of this, the jet black private cars and the back doors to arenas even after 67 shows in 5 months. It still makes her anxiety spike when she doesn’t know where she is exactly or where she’s going. She’s learned to trust more, trust her own gut, trust people that are on her side, her team, her family. Aurora’s still not used to the fact that this is her life but just as it’s gotten more and more familiar, it’s about to change.

Large cardboard boxes are waiting for her when she gets to The Forum and meets up with Jeff.

“Have you opened them yet?” Aurora asks him, giddily.

“Nope, was waiting for you. It’s all you,” Jeff says while motioning to the boxes.

Aurora rips open the top box and a wide smile finds a home on her face.

Harry Styles

The Final Show

Of The

First Tour

Of The

Debut Album

Los Angeles

California

“Oh my god, they’re perfect,” Aurora exclaims. As she admires them Jeff is directing a group of people to start handing them out. Aurora grabs one for her and another for Harry before she gets to work helping hand out the tshirts to everyone. The crew and all the tour staff are changing into the matching white t-shirts when Aurora’s phone chimes with a text from Harry letting her know he’s left and on the way. Aurora’s smile hasn’t left her face since she got to The Forum this morning and she knows the smile will only get bigger as the day goes on. She also knows that if she stops smiling she might start crying and she’s not ready for that yet.

Aurora and Helene make their way to the tunnel they know Harry will be driving into and parking his car. They’re waiting for him in their matching t-shirts, Helene’s camera ready and giggling about something from the night before when they see the first glimpse of Harry’s bright yellow car come into view up the ramp. His windows are down, music is playing loudly and he’s wearing his pink tinted sunglasses as he pulls in. People are bustling around, some arriving for the first time today and others already running around with lists to complete before the final show. Everyone looks the same and it’s exactly how Aurora wanted it. The celebratory t-shirts remind her of the big productions they put on at school or the end of year dance recitals. She likes the feeling it creates when everyone’s decked out in their shirts and she wants to celebrate Harry and his entire team. The final show. It’s marking the end of an era. His era.

When Harry gets out of his car, tossing his duffle over his shoulder and sliding his glasses into his hair he stops before he gets to closing the driver door. Aurora hears the click of Helene’s camera. A dimpled smile forms on Harry’s face and no one is really sure if it’s because Aurora’s waiting for him or it’s the tshirts everyone seems to have gotten the memo about. He closes the door eventually and beelines straight for Aurora.

“I have a feeling you have something to do with this,” Harry says as he tugs lightly at Aurora’s t-shirt.

“Might have,” she giggles before kissing him quickly. “Happy final show day!”

“Don’t make me cry already,” he whines, wrapping his arms around Aurora’s shoulders before hiding his face in her hair.

There hasn’t been a single moment of silence all day. The excited chatter, the reminiscing of the crazy moments of the past 5 months, the inevitable tears from just about everyone as they begin their goodbyes. Aurora hasn’t strayed much from Harry all day, only once to sneak out to the entrance of The Forum to see all the displays with Helene and check out the lines of fans. Aurora had to cut her adventure short when she felt her eyes start to fill with tears. She wasn’t ready to deal with that yet.

They’re finally alone in Harry’s dressing room and the silence is welcomed. There’s still bustling and muted chatter and excitement coming from the other side of the door.

Aurora adjusts the shoulders of Harry’s velvet jacket once he’s slid his arms through the sleeves. She lets out a heavy sigh when she drops her arms to her sides. Harry gives her a look that she can only guess is in place of a million words that he can’t manage to string together right now. Aurora has a million and one that she would like to say to him but it’s not the time or place and she really doesn’t want to cry right now. In the silence, Harry pulls at Aurora’s shoulder and wraps his arms around her tight.

“Your shirt is gonna get all wrinkly,” Aurora comments after a few beats. She doesn’t make a move to pull away from Harry, instead she carefully buries her head into his shoulder and squeezes him tighter.

As if on cue, a knock on the door pulls them apart. Harry calls back letting whoever had knocked that he’ll be ready in a minute. Harry kisses Aurora quickly before he grabs his boots from the bottom of the wardrobe case and sits down on the couch to slide them on.

“Ope, love, got some lipstick on you,” Aurora notices. Her lips quirk up in a smirk as she grabs for a makeup wipe nearby. Harry’s standing from the couch when she turns back to him. “Lemme,” she offers, a soft hand reaching up to cup his jaw to hold his head in place. As she goes to wipe away the red waxy mark across his mouth, she pauses first. “One last good luck kiss,” she whispers. When her lips meet his, it's like their tiny little world unfurls right before them. As if today hadn’t been reminiscent enough, Aurora is reminded of all the moments they’ve spent here in what feels like the same dressing room that has just been picked up and moved to another city every day. As Harry runs a light touch down Aurora’s arm they’re both reminded of the small burn mark that’s left from the steamer back in Germany. And Aurora can’t help but pull him in closer because that was one of those early memories that she knew he was a good one, that he wasn’t just some rich pop star that had a revolving door of women coming through his hotel rooms. Another knock pulls them away, yet again. And when Aurora opens her eyes she can't help but squint because she has literally sunshine staring back at her. She steps away only a few inches and goes back to what she was meant to be doing. Wiping away the red stain from Harry’s mouth, she avoids his eyes and focuses on the colour disappearing from his skin.

“Should touch up your lippy,” Harry chuckles when Aurora fully pulls away to toss the dirty makeup wipe in the bin. Aurora takes a look in the mirror and laughs along with him.

“Yikes, I’ll fix this and meet you out there okay?”

“Promise me you’ll be right here when I get off stage tonight?”

“Of course,” Aurora promises, squeezing his hand. The last bit of the pre show playlist starts to near the end and Aurora wants to find her spot in the audience and she has just one last surprise for Harry before he starts his last show. “I should go find my seat,” she almost whispers, not really wanting to leave him just yet, but time is running out. She reluctantly kisses his cheek, careful not to leave any lipstick behind and pulls a piece of paper out of her pocket and hands it to him. “Thought I owed you a note,” she says before she begins to walk away. “Good luck!” She blows him one last kiss before walking through a curtain, away from Harry and into the audience.

Harry,

No words will ever properly describe how proud I am of you. You will forever be my biggest inspiration; from your music to the way kindness is embedded in everything you do. You have changed so many people's lives and I am lucky enough to say that mine is forever changed because I am loved by you. I love you so much.

You are absolute sunshine.

Have fun on stage, rockstar.

Love ya ta bits, Harry Styles.

All the love. As always,

Rory

Nobody is there to see it, but his eyes sparkle, even in the dark of the backstage. The sparkle could be a reflection from the already flashing stage lights or it could be another tear trying to make its way out of his eye, it’s hard to tell at this point. He takes a shaky breath and thanks all the rock gods before him for his life. He reads the note one more time before folding it back up and sliding into the pocket at the inside of his jacket and running up the stairs as the opening of Only Angel begins.

“Good evening, Los Angeles. Welcome to the final show!” Harry speaks for the first time since appearing on the stage. There are chills running down Aurora’s spine as the entire arena erupts in earth shattering screams in reaction to Harry using his own lyrics as an homage to the tour. Aurora keeps catching the faces of fans in the pit and around her when the lights flicker against their tear splotted faces but bright smiles still permanently shine regardless. She can’t even begin to explain the beating of her heart, the fullness of her chest, the tingle in her fingers. It’s truly remarkable that they can hear Harry’s voice at all over everyone singing along to every song.

As Stockholm Syndrome begins, Aurora smiles even brighter remembering where it all started. The pink suit she had to repair in a quick few minutes and hearing a lone Harry Styles sing a song the world is used to hearing being sung by 5 boys. It’s a moment of shock that jolts Aurora as she stands against the banister and she shakes her head because she’s missing it. Missing Harry give this song his all. Probably the last time he’ll ever perform this song. Cause the next time around he’ll have more of his own music to share and won’t be able to make a disclaimer about only having 10 songs to his own name.

Alongside Stockholm Syndrome, there’s a list of songs he’ll never perform live again but Aurora does her best not dwell on that because she gets to hear him sing for the rest of her life.

Sweet Creature and If I Could Fly leave the majority of the audience swaying slowly, still singing along and Harry barely manages to open his eyes. When he does open his eyes it's only for a moment and he’ll catch a glimpse of someone in front of him and he can’t help but stupidly smile. He’s soaking it all in. He wants to remember this feeling. He wants to remember the sound of an echoey arena when the audience sings along gently, completely in unison, filling in the parts he doesn’t sing anymore. They aren’t yelling or screaming the lyrics, but treating them with care, the same way Harry has delivered these lyrics to them every night. He tries to quiet them down and it takes longer than it has any other night.

“Shh, it’s your turn,” he says with such a calming tone that Aurora stops dead in her tracks. She knows that voice better than anyone and she instantly loses the tingling of nerves in her fingers. She welcomes the calm and closes her eyes for a second. The sound of everyone in the room finishing If I Could Fly for him makes his heart float right up to his throat and it threatens to fall out and explode as the singing continues and he keeps playing his guitar. God, he’ll miss this, he thinks. He finishes the last few lines with the audience and closes his eyes again. He’s really gonna fucking miss this.

“I’d like to invite my wonderful band up on the stage,” Harry interludes while moving his mic to a new spot and adjusting his guitar. A little surprise for the final show. And yet again, Harry shushes the audience as the excitement of something unique to the Final Show arises.

I’ve got a girl crush.

The audience erupts so loudly so quickly it's startling. It's impressive how loud the audience is when they start singing along to a song that hasn’t been on a single set list all tour. The way Harry sings this song in particular reminds Aurora of all the times she gets to hear him sing when he’s on his own, not putting on a show, singing for himself.

I hate to admit it but, I’ve got a heart rush, it ain’t slowing down.

This is how he sounds when he’s messing around, having fun, pure undeniable joy while singing. It’s different behind closed doors somehow. He doesn’t mind when his voice cracks, or belts too high and he can’t finish the lyrics or even a single word. He laughs at himself in those moments and Aurora isn’t sure if he’s aware of it when he’s singing around like that. She loves him in those moments, soft and carefree.

“This is the final night of the tour, of everything,” Harry says after the lights on the audience have turned up and he’s back on the mainstage. He points to a fan in the audience “What’s wrong with you?” He mimics the girl shaking her head, clearly not wanting to come to terms that this is the final show. “Oh you’re just sad?” he asks to confirm. Harry’s voice pitches up, “how do you think I feel?” and the audience erupts in laughter. It's the theme of the evening, being emotional over the final show, being excited to be there. Harry see’s Kacey in the middle of the pit and she’s holding a sign thanking him. Harry praises her from the stage and thanks her in return for joining the tour.

“We’re gonna sing another song for you now, but before we go any further I will be thanking people along the way. I hope you don’t mind. There are so many people in this audience tonight that quite simply I wouldn’t be on this stage without.” Harry pauses and turns his head in the direction where he knows everyone close to him is at. “All of you, you know who you are. Thank you so much for coming tonight. I love you very much. Thank you for being here with us tonight.” Somehow in a room of thousands of people Harry finds Aurora’s eyes. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he runs on before a quick pause. “And,” he gathers his thoughts again, clearly losing what he was meaning to say or do next, “I’ll see you in a little bit,” he rambles quickly.

“Promise me you’ll be right here when I get off stage tonight?”

The simple request rings in Aurora’s head and she misses what he says or does next but when she focuses back in the opening notes give her the gist of what he might have said.

It’s the song that made him. The beginning of it all, really. Yelling along to these lyrics is anyone's right of passage into the room filled with love and kindness. Aurora knows this song isn’t one that will be performed for it’s last time tonight. It's his anthem as an artist, as Harry Styles. It's the song anyone and everyone knows regardless if you were ever a One Direction or Harry Styles fan. What Makes You Beautiful echoes off the walls and the floor and the ceiling and even though Harry has fully made it his own, changed the octave, changed the backing track, changed the rhythm of the lyrics, every single person that fills The Forum is singing along like it’s the original track. As the audience sings the version they’ve known for 7 years and Harry performs his solo rendition, it’s hard to fight the utter joy that erupts in Aurora’s chest.

The anthem is completed with Harry dancing around the stage while waving 3 different flags. The image alone ecompases the whole point of this song, the whole point of this tour, the whole entire fucking point of Treat People With Kindness. And right now there’s nothing more Aurora loves than watching Harry dance along to the “na na na’s.” His hair wildly flopping around, the light reflecting off of the gold and silver details, the sight of the ENTIRE pit jumping up and down.

“Okay, let’s get emotional,” Harry says before asking for the lights up again. “Thank you, this is part of the show where I’m gonna say thank you to a couple people, then I’m gonna sing a song and then I’m gonna leave. We’re gonna all pretend like I’ve gone but 90 seconds later I’m gonna come back and do a couple more songs. Alright?” Screams, nothing but screams fill the room.

As Harry begins his thank you speech to his crew Aurora just knows. He’s hitting that point where it’s all really sinking in. He’s taking long pauses between words but masking it as needing to take a breather from being out of breath from singing and dancing. Aurora knows, though. She knows he’s pushing back the tears, swallowing down the bittersweetness of it all.

“Thank you to my friends, my family, my manager, to all who are all in the audience tonight.” And then Harry starts to stutter over his words. “I-I have to thank my Head of Wardrobe that’s been on tour with me since March.” Aurora brings her hands up to her heart because this is the thank you she wasn’t prepared for. “Thank you for making me sparkle just right on stage and for making sure this was always a family show after I ripped several trousers.” And that’s where Harry leaves it. He doesn’t finish the family show bit, but the audience knows enough to finish it for him.

Aurora’s in shock. It was unexpected and she feels like there’s cotton in her ears as the audience continues to scream and she hears waves of “aw” coming from the fans when they put it together. Jeff claps a hand on Aurora’s shoulder and it brings her back to the moment. Aurora mouths a thank you to Harry on stage while he’s still looking in her direction.

Harry shakes his head before completing his thank yous to the fans. The ones who made this all possible.

Sign of the Times hurts. It really truly hurts. The way his vocals are pretty much perfect and there’s almost a pained look on his face as he belts through it. Aurora doesn’t take her eyes off of him the entire time. He feels it too, the heavy emotion of the song. And he knows he’s not crying in a cool way, he’s crying cause this is it for now. This is the last of it. There's no reason to act cool about it. And Aurora can see the sparkle in his eye and it’s not from the rhinestones on his jacket. It’s from the tears that are welling up in his waterline

And it’s when he snaps his mic back into the stand at center stage, lets out a quick breath through pursed lips, his eyes looking up to the ceiling, that Aurora knows he’s really crying. The quick wipe across his eyes and cheek solidifies the thought.

We don’t talk enough. We should open up.

And then there are tears brimming in her eyes. And as he continues to sing Sign of the Times she lets the tears fall for the first time that day.

“I hope to be seeing you all very soon.” The gritty opening of Kiwi starts and it rattles Aurora’s chest. The last and final song of the tour. Harry blows Aurora a kiss before fully going for it. It's the end and he’s got nothing to lose.

There’s a sinking feeling when Harry goes for his water bottle once he’s finished singing the last lyric of Kiwi. It’s the end.

But it seems that it’s not. His band doesn’t stop playing and Harry swallows the last gulp of water he took and launches into Kiwi for a 2nd time.

Aurora’s jaw drops. She had no idea. He hadn’t told her about this. She wishes she could say she’s surprised that this is something he planned but she really isn’t. When she thinks about it, she should’ve known.

It’s pure adrenaline coursing through him. There are no words to describe him on stage right now. Carefree or loose doesn’t even cut it. He’s out of breath but STILL dancing around, singing into the mic and engaging with the audience and his band.

“Holland tunnel for a nose it’s always backed up!” The audience yells when he points the mic towards them unable to finish the line himself.

And then he snaps his mic into the stand and starts to jog down the stairs and through the aisle. Aurora just laughs cause at this point there’s literally no telling what he does next. A cordless mic appears in his hand halfway down the aisle.

I’m having your baby!

He appears on the b stage, a spotlight following him the entire time. As Harry dances along to the music Aurora’s hands go into her hair and her eyes widen. She can’t help but shake her head when he changes the lyrics.

She’s all over me and I'm exhausted, I’m exhausted. Sing it !

And he’s running back down the stairs, through the aisle again and up the main stage stairs. Aurora’s still in her spot unable to even dance around or sing along as she watches him. It’s entrancing to watch this all go down in front of her. He catches a sunflower mid air when he’s back on stage. Literally anything could happen at this point.

Aurora’s sure he’s gonna collapse right there on stage but he doesn’t, yet. He takes a last sip of water and makes his way to center stage for the finale.

He sticks his tongue out which indicates to the fans that he’s not finished yet, he’s not ending this night just yet. He’s not about to do the signature whale. Instead, he pumps up the crowd, mouthing “make some noise,” and then he motions to Alex, his guitar tech and the rest of his sound crew that are at the side of the stage. Aurora catches him yelling “I’m exhausted,” to them but still turns away and walks back to center stage. He makes eye contact with each of his band mates and circles a hand around above his head to indicate One More Time. He raises up his pointer finger to Mitch, “one more time” he mouths at him.

“Should we do it one more time?” Harry yells.

Earth shattering screams are the response and Aurora thinks all the times before when she thought that she’s never heard such a deafening audience she was wrong. Because now, in this moment at The Forum with Harry asking the audience if he should do Kiwi for a 3rd time she knows it’s the loudest thing she’s ever heard in her entire life. The sound will ring in her ears for days.

And so he goes for it again. A third time. Now she’s in shock.

She worked her wait through a cheap pack of cigarettes,

Hard liquor mixed with a little bit of intellect

And all the boys they were saying she was into it

Such a pretty-

He’s well and truly out of breath. The look on his face is helpless. “Sing it,” he manages to breathe out into the mic before almost doubling over. So instead of taking the mic with him and trying to muster through the vocals, he leaves the mic snapped in and walks away from it. He’s mouthing the lyrics as every single person in the audience yells them to him. He’s walking back and forth from stage left to stage right, making sure to give enough of himself to every single person in the room.

The shock has slightly worn off and there’s a hint of concern weighing on Aurora but she still sings along with everyone. He ends up singing some of the chorus but he really can’t get through much of it on his own. He doesn’t finish a single line himself the rest of the song but he doesn’t care, nobody cares. Even though he can't muster up the energy or adrenaline to sing he doesn’t stop dancing. He’s tangling himself up in his mic cord and Aurora hopes he’s got enough luck and adrenaline left in him to not fall.

And now she’s all over me, it’s like I paid for it, It’s like I paid for it, I'm gonna pay for this.

He drops to his knees center stage, head hanging low. It's a quick second of pure exhaustion before he’s bobbing his head around, hair flying and arms pumping.

Finally, as Kiwi comes to an end for the 3rd time that night, he takes a sip of water and gives the final show. He sprays water into the air, the music blares out and the lights flare.

“I’m gonna go get him,” Aurora tells Jeff before leaving their section. She moves through the pit as Harry is hugging his band once the music ends. She understands now, the last thing he said to her before getting on stage. The look on his face when he goes to hug Mitch says it all. Aurora waits backstage near the stage steps, watching Harry, Mitch, Sarah, Clare and Adam take their final bow. She hugs Harry’s bandmates as they come down the stairs one at a time. Harry is taking one more lap of the stage before he is walking off, a stark contrast from how he normally runs off the stage after all of his other shows. When he reaches the stairs he walks down slowly and lets out a big sigh, shoulders dropping and a hopeless look appears on his face as his feet hit the floor. Aurora feels like she can’t move fast enough towards him even though she’s not even 2 feet from the stairs. She wraps her arms tightly around his shoulders, his face instantly finding a home hiding in her neck. A sob racks through his chest and she reaches up to place a hand in his hair. He’s breathing heavily and she’s running her hand over the back of his head, smoothing down his curls. Harry wraps his arms around her waist, his grip getting tighter every second they stand there.

“Hey, Sunshine,” Aurora says softly, her hands making their way to Harry’s cheeks, so she can look him in the eyes. Once she makes out his face in the dark, she can see that his eyes are already swelling up from the tears that are now consistently flowing down his cheeks. “Hey,” she coos at him, using the pads of her thumbs to wipe the tears from the top of his cheeks. Aurora’s heart breaks at the sight in front of her but she knows she needs to be his rock right now. She can be sad about this tour ending later. She can be emotional about how proud she is of Harry, later. Aurora kisses him softly, fitting their lips together perfectly, just as they always do. The kiss is a bit more wet than normal, from the tears still falling down Harry’s face. When they break apart, he offers her a small smile before there’s a laugh erupting from him. He takes his hands from her waist and uses the back of his hands to wipe at his eyes roughly.

“That was the final show,” he says softly.

“Yeah,” she sighs, her hands reaching to grab for his, “you did it, Rockstar.” He drops his head onto Aurora’s shoulder again. He’s utterly exhausted, physically and emotionally. “Come on, let’s go get you some water and I’m pretty sure you’ve got some friends that wanna say congrats.” She drops his hands and wraps one arm around his waist and he throws one over her shoulder as they make their way to the double doors that lead them to the dressing rooms and lounges.

“Thanks for being there when I got off,” he says as he presses a kiss to her hair, “knew I was barely gonna make it to the end.”

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

It’s a weird feeling, pulling every single suit from the wardrobe cases. It’s a weird feeling to be around while the stage gets taken down. They never stayed long enough after a show night to see it get taken down, Aurora’s only ever seen it being built night after night. It’s stupidly therapeutic and symbolic Aurora thinks to herself as she checks off another item of clothing on her list.

She really doesn’t have to be organizing Harry’s suits right now. She doesn’t need to be taking inventory at this exact moment. This could easily wait till tomorrow afternoon. But Harry’s been lingering around the Forum since his last guest left. He’s completely sober even after the several drinks he tossed back with friends in the backstage lounge in celebration. Everyone’s left besides the crew. Harry can’t pull himself together enough to leave and accept that tour is over. That this era is over.

“I’m gonna go away for awhile. I’m gonna make some more music and I will see you again very soon.”

The 2 sentences echo in his head. The hitch in his throat comes back every time he thinks about it. He’s having a hard time saying goodbye to this. He’s never loved the end of tour. It’s too bittersweet. The performing bit is his favourite part of his job. This time though, it's more bitter than sweet because he doesn't have to go running back home to fit in all the time with his loved ones. The past 2 years have been on his terms. He doesn’t have to hectically plan visits or vacations. He gets to take his time. Go stay with his mum for a month if he wants, travel with Gemma and Michael, visit his god children, freaking write music whenever he wants, whenever the inspiration comes about.

Harry knows the inspiration won’t be hard to find. He takes a glance over at Rory. Her tongue is poking out between her lips in concentration as she examines another one of his suits. He can’t help the blush that rises to his cheeks as he watches her. His Rory. He knows in the back of his mind that he’ll have to say goodbye to her more than he would like in the next couple of months. More goodbyes than they’ve ever shared in the past 5. That’s what makes this more bitter than sweet.

Harry just sits on one of the crates as he chats with his crew. It’s the most genuine time he’s been able to spend with them but he knows these people, his tour family. He asks a few about how their wives are doing and when the due dates are of their babies. He jokes about hoping he didn’t work them too hard and to expect a call from him in the future to pack it all up again and get on with another tour. Harry’s laughter echoes through the emptying arena and every so often it pulls Aurora from her concentration. She catches his eyes sometimes and she can’t help but smile. And in the bright overhead lights of the almost empty arena, the brightest light is the one smiling back at her. Harry’s tear streaked face, unruly curls and dimpled cheeks are the only thing that she can focus on.

Aurora now stands near the door that leads back to the dressing rooms, her wardrobe cases ready to be packed up and dealt with later. She watches as Harry continues to shake every single person’s hand. He thanks everyone individually, even approaches the Forum’s cleaning staff that are weaving in and out of the seats. Every few thank you’s he looks back at her, his Rory. His Rory who has been his rock, his best friend, his stylist, his lover. There are too many words to describe his Rory but also not enough. He doesn’t think he could’ve made it through this tour without her and he’s so fucking thankful.

When he finally joins Aurora in the doorway he presses a sure kiss to her forehead, their hands tangling together. They don’t say anything as they walk back through the now empty halls back to Harry’s car parked on the other side of the arena. Harry’s lost in his head and so is Aurora and neither of them need to say anything to each other at this moment.

Harry can’t grasp how he’s supposed to explain to Aurora that he didn’t expect her to have this amount of an impression on him. Didn’t expect her to change his entire life. How does he explain to her that he doesn’t think he could’ve done all that he’s done since March without her? How does he show her that she means that much to him?

Harry doesn’t know, but Aurora's thoughts line up almost perfectly with his.

And as they get into his car, buckle their seatbelts and make their way home Harry doesn’t turn on the music and Aurora simply reaches for his hand to anchor herself to this moment. It’s way too late at night, or maybe by this point too early in the morning but when Aurora looks at Harry, it all comes flooding back to her.

Sunshine in its purest form is sitting next to her. When Harry catches Aurora’s gaze before driving out of the parking lot he remembers all the things they’ve done, all the things they’ve seen and he can’t help but be excited for what will happen next.

He can't’ wait to see the colours she’ll shine just for him, his own Aurora Borealis.

She doesn’t have to go a day without sunshine.

Who knew that a pink Gucci suit would have started all of this.

🖤🖤🖤

#Sequins & zippers #aurora on tour #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #one direction writing #one direction fanfic #1d fanfic #Harry styles #harry styles x ofc

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ficsnroses · 4 years

Text

Friends With Benefits Chapter 9 - Keanu Reeves x Reader

Chapter IX ~ Full Circle.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

❧ Word Count : 3.7K

❧ Warnings : Angst, light nsfw/smut, (I apologize in advance..)

❧ Series Summary : What happens when two, lonely friends start seeing each other for sex? A tricky friends with benefits love story, when feelings get in the way.

Notes : Just a couple more chapters after this, series is scheduled to end this month! Thanks for sticking around since I started this in November. I love it with my entire heart, and I hope you do too. Please do leave feedback and comments if ya get a sec. There’s tons of parallels in here from previous chapters, kudos if you can spot em!

Chapter 8 Recap : After leaving Keanu’s house in tears at midnight, Y/N’s car breaks down, and she’s left with no one to call but Keanu. After much persuasion, Keanu convinces her to come back to his house and spend the night; where they end up having sex yet again, only making things worse. In the morning, Keanu reveals to Y/N that he plans on purchasing a new car for her, which offends her significantly, considering their relationship. Y/N ends things with Keanu for good, leaving them both distraught and heartbroken in their own ways.

It all comes down to the last person you think of at night.

That’s, where your heart is.

Day after day; week after week, abiding to dreary half executed routines and less than productive projects. It’s been 3 weeks since you’d weary boned, walked out of Keanu’s house,

and perhaps his life

once and for all demolishing the sole, fraying thread of your damaged relationship. As you roam your seemingly emptier apartment, the air around secludes, chilling wavelengths and brisky cold temperate in the atmosphere. On an oak coat hanger, draped in a corner of the living room entrance, a knitted black coat hangs, the same one Keanu had forced you to wear on impromptu evening adventures downtown the LA scene. Neither of you were much for the crowds, yet social affairs seemed…alright. When in the company of the other.

A lot seemed alright when in the company of one another.

Gray ash clouds outside, the LA afternoon falls dark, the dewy gold gleam of a black pine candle illuminating a halo around its part on the coffee table.

It was his favourite scent.

To the hallway wall, a small chip in the crisp white walls taunts you, his elbow bellowed in a charge too fierce when you’d pushed him to it; satin lips on yours in a feverish kiss.

His baseball cap, long forgotten on the loveseat by the skyline window.

Two wine glasses stowed away in the glass kitchen cabinets.

The lighter you kept on hand for him when he’d need a smoke after sex.

Quiet laughs shared in the moonlit dark within these very walls.

All around, there was him.

You don’t realize just how much someone is a part of you, until they’re gone.

For him, it may have just been sex. For you, you were making love. You were making love the entire time, to him. And now, as you sit alone in your outcast LA apartment, that same love mocks you. Suffocates you. Kills you, because it never really goes away. Just because he’s gone, it

hasn’t

gone

away.

He’d yet to call, and you distrust he will. Lover or not, you know him as the back of your hand. He won’t call, he cares too much. Respects you too much to force himself on you. Loud and clear, you’d made rich, undoubted clarity of the end that dreadful morning. The death of you and him.

And nothing comes back from the dead. All that leaves mark is haunting, cold memories.

Cold comfort. Burning memories of what was. He’s a man of measured words, speaks only when there was reason to. Yet, they’d left you haunted. His words that spoke far too much, far too deep, forced you to fall far too profound when you’d promised each other, it wasn’t ever the end goal.

You’d blinked once; then twice, thrice, until the first tear fell.

Warm, stinging, burning. You’d gotten used to those first couple tears lately; the ones that would come uninvited, without notice.

Even after him, all there was,

was burn.

Out.

You needed to go out, do something, find anything to distract, to quench that burning long inside you. The studio sounded nice, nothing a half finish project to get your brain juices flowing couldn’t fix.

Work had been an outlet; designs, sculptures, drawings, late night sessions locked away in your studio had been rather therapeutic when you’d first moved out.

Therapeutic-before you began finding comfort in Keanu’s king bed, silken sheets and cotton pillows scattered around almost every night.

The lock to the apartment door clinks, keys bustling with a toss into your bag before you start toward the elevator.

This is good. This is okay. The morning is rather low-spirited and desolate, not a soul in the halls or lobby. Perhaps you preferred it that way for now.

Alone. Something so familiar, but revitalising. Or maybe truth be told, right now, for you, if it wasn’t him,

it couldn’t be anyone at all.

His rich chuckle,

His smoky laugh,

That inquisitive, immersed stare with the tip of his lips slightly agape while he listens, breathes in the world around him,

Stop.

With a half executed, drained sigh, you trudge to the brassy elevator doors, sounds of trudging cables and gaudy belts before the doors glide open, the elevator scent of a freshener far too strong, mimicking fresh linen and Californian citrus. The ride down is short, a derisory accomplishment of actually stepping foot out into the world outside your sheltered apartment corridors. With a stop to the third floor below yours, the elevator dings, heavy footsteps and the scent of spiced cologne wafted through the trivial space.

Spiced cologne; a dire contrast to the woodier, pine-ier one of Keanus.

Voice intruding, you pick up deep soundwaves and flashy baritone, a greeting of curious surprise your way. “Y/N?” They speak, snapped out your dreary daydream, thoughts somehow continually reverted back to broken eyes, deadbeat silence from that shattered morning endured three weeks ago.

Curious orbs raised, you perceive him; an old colleague residing in the same complex. He’d been the first neighbour you encountered in the midst of your move here, a heavy box of dishes and cutlery saved by his robust arms carrying them up to your front door that year ago. “Matt?”

“It’s been a while, haven’t seen you around.” He raises, hands shoved into his blue jean pockets, tall frame taking place a mere few inches apart from you.

“Just been busy.” You smile, stray strand of lock tucked behind your ear. Matt had been much help during your move, and you’d kept in touch thereafter. He’d come visit time to time for a piping cup of French coffee; discussions of work and projects mindlessly favoured together.

“Right.” He replies, amiable smile to his full lips. “I saw you’d been working on bigger films.” He starts, admirable sheen to his dark eyes. “Very commendable work.” He praises, a gentle chuckle when the following words flow. “Hey, I have to ask…” The elevator descends further down, main lobby in approach. Sounds of trudging still bellow above, yet the sound of his talk was…nice. It was nice to hear someone.

Apart from failed attempts of your girlfriends to take you out for drinks, you’d heard little rather from the voice that would seep your television; the Netflix catalogue had been getting much devotion lately.

With his brows scrunching, the baritone of his voice raises slight, wondering. “I’ve seen a guy visit you every now and then…was that Keanu freaking Reeves?” timidly chuckled, he takes in your gentle giggle, a nod to his query.

“Yeah, it was.”

“Ahhh.” He breathes, glance at the polished floor. “Boyfriend…?” His voice lingers, a dragged out tone in question, eyes focused to assess your features change.

“Business partner.” You lie.

A cold, dreadful lie that held so much history, so much regard. So much history, thrown away with those two, taciturn words.

“Right.” Matt rakes a heavy palm through his hair, moved to gesture out a peace offering in front of him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume.” He apologizes, nervous tone thick with unease, yet held to a certain confidence. Matt had charisma, poise, a pleasant presence.

Voice warm, you overtake, smiling in return. “Of course not.” Sincerely, you compliment. “You look well.” Commenting, the elevator rings open, the main lobby arrives. Matt allows you to go first, leading the way graciously.

“You do too, as always.” He praises, eyes glazing over your features in an admirable glow. Hand tucked back into his jean pocket, a timid silence stays put in the air around, your brows raising when at a loss of what to say next. Features contemplative, Matt’s voice gruffs in his throat, gently coughing a nervous pitch to the look of your welcoming gaze. “I’d actually love to catch up sometime, if you’re free.” He proposes. “Maybe a coffee sometime this week?”

Your thoughts halt in trek, gaze flickering to the pavement below in the distance for a moment. Company…someone to ease your mind off the storm brewing inside….

You think back,

Two wine glasses stowed away in the glass kitchen cabinets. A half drank bottle of Merlot sitting in solitude.

“Do you wanna come over tonight?” You blurt, uncertain of when the words had even fallen off your lonesome lips. Partly wonderstruck you’d extended an invitation so sudden, you marvel if it was too soon. You’d just met Matt again; only shared a meagre 3 minutes together thus far.

You’d only shut Keanu out so soon ago, yet you knew deep inside, he was still stuck in each part of you. But it couldn’t go on like that forever, this couldn’t go on forever. You need something new, potentially someone new.

Someone that doesn’t come with such baggage, someone who doesn’t come with so many complications.

Matt shifts, charming smile plastered to his lips with a quick glance down. His thoughts collect; gaze locked to yours in an admiration filled sincerity. “Yeah, for sure.” He speaks. “I’d really like that.” Controlled and certain, you nod, gesturing to the roads off sight. “I’ve just got a day of errands and work ahead. But I’ll see you at my place tonight?” You offer. “Is 7:00 alright?”

“Of course.” He smiles, giving you a gentle nod, and if you thought close enough, you’d swore his awed eyes sputtered to your rosy lips ever so briefly,

wondering….

3 weeks. 3 long, tiresome, drained week without her. Without her company, without her voice, without her floral scent; roses and lilies to brighten his days. It had felt as if she’d been wiped away, his motionless mind left with nothing but burning memories of their time together.

Laying in his king bed, Keanu wonders what she’s doing right now. Is she thinking of him, the way he thinks of her? Has she forgotten him, the way they were, the things they did? He prays. He pleads she hasn’t forgotten. Three weeks had passed, and time seemed to mock him at every second. A lifetime spent alone, the lonesome days and months, turned mindlessly to years. Her walking away had been perhaps the most gut wrenching, soul eating occurrence to ever break his mind. Her walking away was the sourest sting he’d ever had to swallow.

Because he knows he’ll never forget her. Not now, not today, not in another three weeks.

She was it for him, he’d known it for a while. If it was going to be anyone, if he had a chance to make it right with anyone, it was solely, unconditionally, her. He couldn’t forget.

Couldn’t forget the things they did.

She’d been a dire reflection of him, mirroring his tepid, half sheltered heart. The heart that longs, for so much more. It was only her. It could only be her.

It wasn’t toxicity.

time passed, the days turned to nights, the tick bestowing further, the time spending away, not making either of them younger, he knew. She was it. It all meant something, it was never just sex.

It could never just be sex. What he felt, she had to feel it too.

She had to. No longer was it feasible to suffer. He won’t suffer. This time, now, finally, he won’t suffer. He won’t let it be.

As he turns his side, an exasperated sigh flees his lips, hand bestowed to his feeble forehead in an aching protrude. He wonders what she’s doing right now, if she’s awake, wondering, thinking, missing him like he is her. Longing for him, as he is for her.

Suffering for him, as he is for her.

A glance toward the bedside table shows, dainty clock illuminating the time. He’d seek her in the early morning, and this time, he’d at least try to make things right. Lay his heart out on the line, hoping, pleading she’d accept it. Enough had been enough, dreary thoughts and lonesome nights, burning away, wondering of what could be would perverse no more.

He wonders what she’s doing right now.

11:38pm.

She couldn’t forget him. He wouldn’t let her.

Couldn’t forget the things they did.

Words not spoken,

Things not said,

Regrets; enveloping you.

A finished bottle of Merlot, a shot or two as well. Something crisp…something that,

burned.

You don’t remember who did it first, who wanted it first, who let it happen first.

His scent lasted longer than you’d liked on your skin, that murky dusk of spiced cologne, his polite, appealing presence. He arrived with a bottle of White, a variety you’d almost never kept on hand in the last couple of months.

Red used to be his favourite; so it was yours.

Perhaps you were vulnerable, perhaps he was too kind. Too charming, too present. But you asked for it, you did it, you wanted it. Or so you think you did.

It always comes full circle.

You needed someone that night, needed to feel someone that night. You don’t remember who made the first move, seemed as if both of you wanted that mutuality, that connection just as much.

Back where you’d started.

His skin grazed yours, gentle thumb soothed to your own; wine glass held in a wavering grip, frail to your boney fingers. You didn’t stop him, didn’t pull away. He moved closer, and maybe you did too. Closer to him, nearer to him.

The gray bedroom walls heard the scene; they saw it all, unadulterated, held the secrets of what you’d done. His lips on yours, his hands on you, your fingers clawing to his back. You let him in, and he took each inch of you. Raw, exposed, desperately attempting to chase that high, that cloud nine feel that came with months gone. You could lay with this man while you thought of him, drawing sorrow deep inside his skin. Scratch his back to forget his face, bite his neck with his name on your tongue, touch his face while you think of him.

It’s an awful feeling, knowing you did nothing wrong.

But did everything wrong, all in the same.

“Y/N…” You cut Matt off by kissing his lips, gracefully on the bed underneath him, hands in his hair with his heavy palms to your hips. Moving diligently, he sulks into your neck, moaning, soft and quiet grunts between bites and nips to your neck. “Faster,” You spill, nerve endings tantalized as he thrusts, your lips stippled to his piercing jawline.

Is it easier for him? you wonder, you ponder,

you guess.

“You’re irresistible…” He whispers, lips browsed to your chest in a warm enhold, skin on skin within the softness of release. Back arching, you lean into his touch, hips bucking along with his when your mind jumbles, an awful realization, the bitter realism. He’s changing your breath with every thrust, working your body in a hot, humid intimacy so foreign, his manhood hastily working your body beneath. So foreign, so…empty.

That familiar stretch isn’t there, the sweet burn isn’t there, he isn’t there. This isn’t him. No matter how hard you try, how tight you clench your eyes hoping you’ll trick yourself into believing it, it isn’t him.

He’s safe, he’s new, he’s different,

But he’s not him. The façade you show melts away.

He’ll never be him. No one will ever be him.

As he slips out in the midnight light, the bed sinks beside you, and you turn with the comforter held to your exposed chest. The only light in the bedroom filters from the cracked window, the illuminated alarm clock on your dainty nightstand enlightening the while,

11:38pm.

The misty LA morning brought new found hope; new found anticipation. The weather had predicted a storm brewing out soon, yet that wouldn’t be enough to stop Keanu.

Not today. Not when he needs her to know. Not when he loves her, and he knows so deep, so profound that he does.

Sunny California had grayed a dark to its golden rays lately, a frigid mist clings to the air. Heavier rains had been the norm recently, damper months in full fledge. A tug of war impends his mind, should he wait until evening? Should he call? Was this an intrusion of her space? Her choices?

Was she really, truly content leaving things the way she did?

He looks in the mirror; beard longer than it had been since he’d seen her; hair shaggier than she’d left him. He hadn’t had anyone to look good for since she’d gone away. Hadn’t had motivation to present himself to anyone since she’d left. Some of Y/N’s things still lingered the empty walls of his home; a lacy bra left in his wardrobe, a crewneck sweater mindlessly thrown under his bed; her copy of a Hemingway novel abandoned in his office, a toothbrush for when she’d spend the night.

It had been there the entire time.

Just sex isn’t this involved.

Friends with benefits aren’t this involved.

She’d been there the entire time.

After a quick shower and groom of his rather untamed features, Keanu snatches his keys and wallet, fear filled drive to her apartment drained on his mind. Y/N had to see this through, had to trust him, understand him.

Y/N and Keanu had never really got it right, never quite found the balance. But it could be found, could be learnt, could be when they’d finally accept it.

The balance was always them. Them together, as whole. Half executed attempts at being anything less would suffice no more. What was, what is, was always more.

It was never just sex.

It was so much more.

The apartment complex is rather fuller than normal, piercing cold and dewy morning air enveloped around. Crowds had stayed in, and the first murky dewdrops of fresh rain speckled his worn out leather jacket on arrival.

This worn out leather jacket….

He’d placed it on her shoulders when the bitter cold threatened her skin. She’d peeled it off him when they did what lovers do.

It was never just sex.

It was companionship.

The wearing pockets had held her special birthstone ring, forgotten in his possession solely for him to have a reason to come to her, sooner than they’d planned.

It was never just sex.

It was the feeling of needing someone; having someone.

The fraying insides and ravelling threads felt the weight of her body holding him, chest pressed to his back along the scenic LA mountains, breezy winds and violet sunsets known all too well on destination less rides.

It was never just sex.

It was connection; intimacy.

This old, worn out leather jacket, a possession of his he’d held for so long, something that had been through it all, held so much of her. Knew so much of her.

It was never just sex.

It was their love. And it was so much more, so much more than just physical.

The ride up and trek to her door seemed endless, racing pace and quick strides in desperate attempt to get to her as soon as he could. Everything had finally fallen into place, he’d finally understood. And he knew so well, that she would too. Takes one to know one; they’d been lonely far too long.

Within moments, Keanu stood firm at her door, abundance of confidence, anticipation, yet a timid nervousness all in one piping cocktail of eagerness flowing through his veins. He hadn’t seen her in weeks; his favourite, the most prized possession in his life, he hadn’t seen in weeks. More than anything, he hopes she had been alright. Taken care of herself, stayed healthy and safe.

A ring at the door bell, and a loud knock.

Seconds, moments, small increments of time passing seem as if an eternity slowly moving by.

Another knock, for good measure.

Hands shaking so slightly, skin crawling, fists clenched with a stare to the floor.

She should be home, it’s only morning.

Trudging elevator belts moving in the distance, footsteps in and around the complex halls, leg bouncing, lip bitten in dreary wait, a nervous sigh when more moments pass until…

Click. The door wavers open, she stands behind, half dressed, features borderline stoic, yet with a gentle hold of sorrowed blues. She looks beautiful as always, and his heart hitches at the sight of her. The woman he loves, so dearly, so much. Hair stowed in a messy bun, fatigue seeps under her eyelids, tired features soft under the artificial hallway lights.

“Y/N…” Keanu speaks above a smooth, buttery whisper; the sound of her name slipping off so naturally, so effortlessly. “I wanted to see you…”

She swallows tight, eyes never leaving his chocolaty, sincere gaze, so love drunk as he stares. He’d engulf her in his arm right now if he could. Hold her for an eternity if time allowed. Kiss her so passionately, so lovingly that it’d take her breath away. Yet he waits; waits to do things right. Do it the right way, for the first time in their tumbling relationship. “Can I come in?” He asks, voice almost choking in his gruffed throat.

She’d hardly moved before he’d caught glimpse; a deep baritone behind her, the sound an intruding shock to his already racing heart. Calm yet collected, Keanu stands, eyes tracing behind as the voice firms in closer,

a man, jacket hung over his left shoulder blade, morning hair just woken ruffled a mess, palm placed to her back with a gentle squeeze as he bids goodbye. “I need to head out, but I’ll call you.” He smiles at her, before locking gaze with Keanu.

“Morning.” He greets Keanu, before giving Y/N’s arm a reassuring, goodbye squeeze, slipping beside Keanu and out the door, disappearing down the hall. Y/N stands in front of him, eyes locked to his still, as if pleading, begging for something…something neither of them could quite understand.

Keanu stills, fists clenched, heart stinging with piercing defeat.

She’d been with another man.

The love he so desperately longed for, the women he knew he needed,

had been in the arms,

of another.

>>Chapter 10>>

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

s/o to ma bish @fanficsrusz for looking over this cluster fuck for me lol. ily

My taglists will be posted in reblogs from now on. Let me know if you want to be added or removed from either this series, or the permanent!

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves smut

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giant-sketches · 5 years

Photo

Oh my gosh! This part is so long that I drew a total of four sketches for it instead of the usual three. I’ve been changing up my writing a bit so I do hope you enjoy it still.

Again if you would like to be added to the tag list down below just send me an ask or comment and I’ll make sure to add you.

Disclaimer: past trauma, crying, mention of eating people, people being treated like toys, swearing/cursing, pain, innuendos

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

In the valley:

Roman: “VIRGIL! VIRGIL PLEASE WAKE UP!!! VIRGIL!”

Remus: “Hush now, your prince has fallen into a deep slumber thanks to my sleeping spell.”

Roman: “REMUS! What sleeping spell, you stomped on him until he passed out!?”

Remus: “It’s an original, I call it Stompus Knockoutus!”

Roman: “Ugh, whatever! Just let me down this instant you dirty marauder!”

Remus: “Woooo! Marauder, I like that. Thanks for the darling nickname Princey!”

Roman: “Aaaahhhh! What are you even going to do with me?”

Remus: “I’m taking you back to my little hole in the wall so we can play together like old times.”

Roman: “Li-like old times?”

- Roman shuddered at the memories of when his brother and he would play ‘games’ before the destabilization occurred. Once Roman and Remus had split from the same trait they stuck together still as brothers who had no idea how to be separate people. Those days started out pleasant with their creative minds expanding everyday. Roman imagined far off lands, magnificent castles, heroic adventures, and more. Remus, on the other hand, imagined tentacle arms, vomiting spiders, eyeball spaghetti, and more disturbing imagery.

- It quickly became obvious to the others that Remus was beginning to unravel once Roman started distancing himself from him. It’s all he could do as Remus’s thoughts were too extreme for Roman to take in as their imaginations interfered with one another. In response, Remus became a recluse and locked himself away to drown in his own madness. Roman tried desperately to talk with Remus, to find some kind of solution so they could stay together, but to no avail. Then one night a large crashing sound shook the fort awake. Roman dashed to his brother’s room in a panic and swung open the door, only to find a now 150 foot tall giant grinning menacingly at him.

Remus: “I’ve found a solution to our problem brother! If I simply take you away from here then we’ll never be separated again.”

Roman was petrified with fear and had no strength left to flee as Remus’s giant hand snatched him higher and higher into the air. There was no tenderness in his touch as Roman’s bones cracked and he yelped in pain.

Remus: “Singing cheers of our reunion all ready? Glad to hear them, keep it going!”

Remus squeezed even tighter as he violently pumped his fist in the air, with Roman in hand. Roman screamed loudly in pain and tears began to well up in his eyes.

Remus: “Tears of joy as well?! Oh brother, you really do know what I like!”

- Now fully enjoying his new stature Remus cheerily skipped away from the fort, into the forest and up the mountain to a cave that could fit him. For the next month Roman endured a variety of Remus’s ‘games’ and was treated like a plaything. He would be punished if he misbehaved and he was kept in a drawer with only a small hole where the knob should be for air. Eventually, Patton and Logan were able to find him when Remus was away and promptly rescued him. However, the experience left him traumatized.

- That’s why it had been so hard for him to adjust to Virgil being one of them. Luckily, with time, he realized that wasn’t true and that Virgil was special. He was special to him. Roman could feel his consciousness fading as he was still exhausted and slowly passed out as Remus carried him off into the mountains. He was simply too tired to fight back or stay awake. Roman could only hope his friends would be able to find him soon. --------------------------- Back at the fort:

Patton: “ROMAN’S BEEN KIDNAPPED!?”

Virgil: “I’m so sorry Pat. Remus snuck up on me while Roman was sleeping and I-I couldn’t do anything. I was too scared.”

Patton: “Oh Virgil, there’s no need to beat yourself up over it. We’re together now, so let's go get our boy back!”

Logan: “My thoughts exactly Patton, but we need a plan. Virgil, do you have any idea where Remus might have taken Roman? Last time he hid out in a cave up in the mountains, but that ridge is vast so it will take too much time to scan all of it.”

Virgil: “I think he’d still be hiding the same way honestly. I remember him bringing me to this one cave he had all decked out with all sorts of weird clothes and tiny buildings.”

Logan: “Promising, do you recall where that cave was?”

Virgil: “Yeah I do since it was just a couple of months ago.”

Patton: “Why did he take you there anyway?”

Virgil bit down on his lower lip as he decided whether or not to answer Patton.

Virgil: “Ugh, he wanted me to play with him...but he said we had to go out and find some toys first.”

Patton: “Toys!? Yo-you don’t mean...people?”

Patton was mortified at just the idea of people being played around like dolls. Virgil freaked out and responded quickly,

Virgil: “Woah hey! I never agreed to it. I never liked playing with that guy so I just shrugged him off and found a corner to read in instead. You don’t think I’d actually go out people-snatching with that loon do you Pat?”

Patton’s eyes softened.

Patton: “Oh course not kiddo, but the idea was really scary to think about is all. I know you don’t see us like that.”

Virgil sighed in relief and smiled. Logan coughed a bit to suggest they get a move on quickly in order to rescue Roman.

Gently, Virgil laid his hand on the ground and motioned for Patton to climb on up. Patton hopped right on enthusiastically as he was lifted up to Virgil’s shoulder. Logan reached out his arms to help Patton climb on and they held hands to keep each other steady as Virgil stood back up.

Logan: “One more thing before we disembark on our mission, Virgil, I suggest you increase in size substantially in order to better traverse the mountain terrain.”

Patton: “I agree with Logan. If you get bigger it will help finding Roman easier.”

Virgil: “Okay, you both hold onto my shirt collar then. I don’t want either of you falling off.”

Logan and Patton: “Got it!”

- With that Virgil shifted dramatically to a whopping 500 feet tall instantly. As they were being flung up rapidly, Patton and Logan hugged onto Virgil’s shirt for dear life until the shaking stopped. Both of them peeled their eyes open again to find their new view spectacular! They could see everything from the town, lake, valley, forest, and mountains. Neither of them had ever been so high up before. The entire experience was completely indescribable as they both stared in awe.

Virgil: “You both okay?” he whispered.

Virgil’s sudden question snapped Patton and Logan out of their starry eyed daze and back to reality. They both hastily answered,

Logan and Patton: “Yes, we’re fine!”

Virgil: “Alright, I’m going to start moving then. Prepare yourselves.”

- Instinctively, Logan and Patton both gripped onto Virgil’s shirt collar tightly and braised themselves. This was going to be a long trip as each step Virgil took, no matter how delicately, jostled the two of them around like wet noodles. ----------------------------- Now in the caves:

Remus: “Wakey, wakey sleeping beauty. Your tower awaits.”

- Roman was in a daze when he awoke to find himself lying on what appeared to be a play mat with the design of cobblestone printed on. Immediately, he remembered where he was and with whom. It took even less time for him to realize he was no longer wearing the clothes he previously had on as well. He was now donning a poofy pink dress, white silk gloves, and a puffed up blonde wig with a tiara attached. His face had been painted on with a fake beauty mark near his eye and plump red lips. Overall, he looked ghastly!

Roman: “Oh my gosh, did you undress me in my sleep?!”

Remus: “What’s a little nudity between brothers? Honestly you have nothing to be embarrassed about. You make a darling little damsel!”

Roman: “Damsel? Is that what this tacky dress is all about? You want to play damsel in distress with me?”

Remus touched his nose in delight.

Remus: “Bing bong! You got it!!!”

Roman: “Then are you supposed to be the prince or something?”

Remus: “Come now brother, do I look like a prin-”

Roman: “No.”

Remus: “Ouch, you didn’t even let me finish. Now I’m left all limp.”

Roman winced in disgust at that remark.

Remus: “No your prince is the brat I left out cold in the valley. I’m taking up the role of the big scary monster who's taking you hostage in my tower.”

Roman: “I’d hardly call this cave a tower.”

- Remus smirked as he flicked his pointer finger in the direction right behind Roman. A shiver ran down his spine as he cautiously turned around to face the looming figure of a tower, a real tower. It wasn’t something Remus had made, but stole from somewhere. Roman didn’t even want to think about what else Remus might have destroyed in the process of acquiring it, then an even more frightening thought flashed through his mind. Frantically, Roman looked around the room to see if Remus had snatched any people up as well.

Remus: “Now, now brother there’s no need to worry. You’re the only toy here and that’s because you’re so special to me. This game is just for the two of us, that is until your tiny friends find you.”

Thank goodness Roman thought as he sighed in relief. No one else had to suffer the way he had all those years ago. He had finally started to relax a little when Remus suddenly began poking at his backside.

Remus: “No time to waste princess! Time for you to get into the tower and start the game.”

Each poke was more forceful than the last, until Roman found it hard to keep his footing. He toppled over in pain to Remus’s dismay.

Remus: “Hey! Don’t ruin the dress, it’s my favorite.”

That was the last straw for Roman. He wasn’t going to be Remus’s plaything, not again.

Roman: “ENOUGH! I’m not playing your games anymore Remus! Not now, not ever! Screw you, this ugly dress, this stupid play mat, and the idea that I’m still afraid of you after all this time!”

- In a fit of rage Roman chucked the dress and wig off his person and hurled the gloves towards his brother in a challenging manner. Luckily, it seemed Remus had only removed his shirt as he was still wearing his pants and boots. Using his arm he wiped off the paint on his face and scowled at Remus. Remus was not pleased.

Remus: “It would appear you’re in need of some punishment in order to correct that boorish attitude of yours.”

Without warning, Roman was forcefully grabbed and lifted high up towards Remus’s face. While startled, Roman wasn’t going to keep quiet like when he was a kid.

Roman: “Just try me! There’s nothing you could do that would affect me anymore.”

Remus: “That’s what you’d think, but I’ve had a long time to come up with better punishments. I actually had an epiphany the other day that I think will work quite nicely in turning you docile.”

Roman gulped loudly. What could Remus be thinking of doing to him that he hadn’t already done?

Remus licked his lips.

Remus: “You know brother, at my size it wouldn’t be too hard to swallow someone whole. I’ve been playing around with the idea for a while now. I used to lick you all when I was a kid, but now I think it might be fun to try for something bigger than just a taste.”

Roman’s eyes went wide with fear. Remus wouldn’t actually eat him, would he? He must be bluffing, right?

Roman: “Woah, hey Remus, yo-you couldn’t actually be entertaining the idea of e-eating me would you?”

Roman was now visibly shaking and his throat had gone dry. The thought of being eaten alive was just too horrifying to imagine.

Remus: “I am actually, after all you look like such a taste morsel.”

- Remus stuck out his tongue tauntingly as Roman squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel himself being lifted up slowly towards Remus’s mouth as his putrid breath wafted over him. He really was going to be eaten, he thought. Miraculously, a familiar loud cry echoed from outside the cave,

Virgil: “ROMAN!”

Roman gasped as he flung his eyes open towards the cave entrance with excitement. He was saved!

Remus: “Looks like the party crashers have arrived! Ahead of schedule, but after this disappointing first act I’m looking forward to the clim-”

- Before Remus could even finish a massive hand launched itself into the cave and pulled him out into the night sky. Startled Remus was not at all prepared for what he would see next. He was now, somehow, locked in place by a giant fist and staring up at a now massive sized Virgil. Never in his life had he seen something or someone bigger than himself. In this moment Remus for once felt completely helpless and small in Virgil’s stern grip.

Remus: “Wh-what is this? How are you this big all of a sudden? I-I...this isn’t right.”

- Previously, outside Virgil had asked Patton and Logan to wait behind him as he went up ahead at max size. He needed them to stay a safe distance away as he confronted Remus head on. They both agreed and waited in the forest for his and Roman’s return. Virgil then walked a considerable distance away before shifting to double his current size, his limit of 1000 feet. This is where he stands now with Remus in his clutches and pissed off!

Virgil: “Let him go.”

Surprise, by such a suppressing voice coming from the once tiny Virgil, Remus completely missed what he just said. He was now overcome with fear he had never experienced before. He was now the weakling.

Remus: “Wh-what?”

Virgil: “I said let him go, now.”

Virgil repeated himself as calmly as he could. He was fuming with rage right now as he spotted Roman still being held tightly in Remus’s hand. Although, he did take pleasure in seeing Remus afraid of him for once. Still, Virgil couldn’t help thinking about what he had become if even the monsters feared him.

Remus: “O-okay….”

- Cautiously, Virgil raised his free hand up towards Remus in order to have a safe place for Roman to land on when released. As Roman fell out onto Virgil’s palm he gasped for air as Remus’s grip knocked the wind out of him when they were both pulled out of the cave. Concerned, Virgil gingerly lifted his hand up to his face to get a better look at Roman’s condition. He appeared physically okay, except that he was missing his shirt. Virgil wanted so badly to comfort him, but knew at his current size it would be too dangerous to try. He didn’t want another kissing incident after all.

- He decided it would be best to set Roman down for now while he dealt with Remus, however, before he started to move again the image of Roman running towards his face stopped him. Suddenly, Roman was clinging to the arch of Virgil’s nose and sobbing. All the stress and fear he had bottled up in order to put on a brave face melted away the moment he was safe on top of Virgil's hand. Virgil had previously been worried about Roman’s reaction to his now gigantic size after hearing about what happened to him as a child from Patton and Logan on the way here. It appeared his concerns were unwarranted as Roman felt safest when near Virgil.

Roman: “Virgil, oh my gosh Virgil, I was so scared!”

Virgil: “Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here now. You’re safe with me”

Roman: “I-I know, but he….he tried to eat me. I thought I wa-was going to die. I’m so glad you showed up when you did!”

Trying his best to keep himself from yelling,

Virgil: “He tried to do what?!”

Remus groaned as the fingers surrounding him suddenly tightened.

Virgil: “Oh I’m sorry did that hurt? Good! How would you feel if I tried to eat you right now?”

Remus chuckled, Remus: “That’d be one hell of a french kiss monsieur monstre.”

Virgil scoffed in disgust while Roman frowned at Remus calling Virgil of all people a monster.

Roman: “The pot calling the kettle black, I see.”

Remus: “You think I’m a monster? Have you been completely ignoring the behemoth you’re standing on? He was so small back in the valley and now he’s somehow ballooned himself to such a size that even my butthole clenches in fear.”

Roman: “Geez, did you have to use the word butthole?”

Remus: “It’s my word of the day in that I use it every day, all day.”

Virgil and Roman both groaned at this weasel's meaningless antics.

Virgil: “What should I do with him? Any ideas Roman?”

Roman: “Usually we use Logan’s dimensional splitter to just send him and Deceit back into the dark realm. I assume you left him and Patton somewhere safe so I guess that’s not an option right now.”

Virgil: “Actually, even though I’ve become a resident of the light realm I should still have the ability to form rifts still.”

Roman: “Really?! Then hurry up and do it before this guy does anymore damage. We still have to locate which town he stole that tower from.”

Virgil: “He stole a tower?!”

Roman sighed,

Roman: “Yeah...somewhere in the realm, there’s a big mess for us to clean up later.”

Virgil: “Okay then, no more waiting. It’s time to send Remus back where he belongs.”

With that Virgil created a rift big enough for him to toss Remus into with ease.

Remus hummed as he flew into the rift,

Remus: “I look forward to the third act another time!”

Roman: “Good riddens!”

Virgil had now bent down to place Roman on the ground as he started shrinking down to a more manageable size.

Virgil: “You can say that again.”

- He rested on 200 feet in order to comfortably hold all three of them once Patton and Logan were retrieved. Roman told them about what happened as Virgil concentrated on getting everyone back to the fort. Once there, it was definitely time for bed. Before Virgil headed back to his room for the night he was stopped by Roman.

Roman: “Hey Virgil...I know you’re really tired and probably rather sleep in your own bed after such an eventful night, but do you think you could sleep with me instead?”

Virgil: “You want me to sleep with you for tonight?”

Roman: “If that’s not too much to ask. I’m...still really shook up from what happened. Even though in my mind I know Remus is gone I can’t help feeling I’m not completely safe yet.”

Virgil: “I don’t mind at all Roman.”

Roman: “Really?! Thank you so much! Come one, I’ll lead you there.”

Roman cheerful took Virgil by the hand and led him to his room. Inside the walls were covered in Disney posters and theater playbills. There was pink glitter on the ceiling and the bed covering was of a unicorn jumping over a rainbow. Overall, it was super colorful compared to his.

Roman: “Come on in!”

Roman had already tucked himself into bed and was waiting patiently for Virgil to join him. Sheepishly, Virgil climbed into bed and laid his head down on the plush pillow facing Roman. Roman did the same and smiled softly towards him.

Roman: “Thank you for saving me Virgil.”

Virgil looked away.

Virgil: “Even though I was completely useless at the valley?”

Roman reached out his hand to stroke Virgil’s face.

Roman: “Now you listen here. That wasn’t your fault and anyone else in your position also would have been knocked out cold if a giant stomped on them suddenly.”

Virgil chuckled as he lifted his hand up to touch Roman’s and leaned into it.

Virgil: “You’re right, sorry. I accept your thanks.”

Roman: “Good. Now for your reward.”

Virgil: “My wa-”

- Without warning, Virgil found himself locking lips with Roman in a passionate kiss! Stunned, Virgil simply let himself enjoy the moment until Roman pulled away slowly. Both of them were fully satisfied with the exchange and blushing deeply with embarrassment.

Roman: “We-well goodnight Virgil!” he stuttered as he hid himself under the covers.

Virgil: “Ye-yeah goodnight Roman!” he also stuttered as he turned to face the wall.

Neither of them could manage to face the other for the remainder of the night. Even though they had kissed in the valley when at the same height it was somehow more intimate.

To be continued.

@paranoidgurl @pattonvirglsanders @suckedinfandoms @crystalk17 @gentlegiantdreamer @enby-phoenix @sanders-sides-virgil @just-some-gt-trash @notkolaidoscop @bluegreeninbtwn @lgbtqiaemo @avenirunknown @rainbowbowtie @ncanspeak @maryann-draws @himeperson @perfectly-princely-emo-nightmare @daydreamburritoworld

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captainjimothycarter · 4 years

Note

How about that AU where single parents Steggy meet because their kids meet each other in Pre-school and seem to recognize each other, and you get Steggy dismantling some horrible institution realizing their adopted from overseas toddlers were twins intentionally split up for 'reasons' and obviously you just gotta live together now man, twins can't be split again, guess we're together. Cause Maximoffs in New York, and Steve vs the hellion that is 4 year old Pietro.

Something tells me that if I apologize for this being long, no one will complain, but anyway: I’m sorry for what I’m about to do and how I butcher this. OP, I love these prompts so much.

“You’re serious?”

Steve is fully aware that he doesn’t even know Peggy and he’s never seen her look more serious. She’s staring at him over the rim of her steaming coffee mug with an expression that says, you’re an idiot. Laid before them are a few folders, binders, and files, the contents spread out. This marked their life together.

The start of their life together.

It was late at night, Wanda was asleep with Pietro, curled up in his bed. The kid insisted she slept in the same bed and wouldn’t be told no and fuck, Steve couldn’t tell Wanda no. Not when she made that cute, little face that knew she’d get whatever she wanted. Besides, they couldn’t tear them apart again. They were toddlers who barely understood the situation. It’s not like the adults were doing much better.

Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, Steve let out a loud sigh and tensed. He waited to hear Wanda’s whimpers or Pietro’s groans, but none came. His eyes fell to the stranger before him, wondering how did they miss each other.

“You do understand that this isn’t our fault?” Peggy asks him in a soft tone as if she’s trying to convince herself. She lays her hand on his wrist, the pad of her thumb rubbing over the inside of Steve’s wrist. “We had no way of knowing. None. Even though background checks, I didn’t find anything that said this.”

“Doesn’t mean I feel any less guilty here.” He downed the rest of his coffee like it was a shot and made a face at the coffee grounds sliding down his throat. Ugh. That’s what he gets for a shitty coffee maker. “We didn’t do this but now we have the consequences. How do we repair…four years of that?!”

“Steven.” The way she said his name made him frown at her. He looked like one more surprise news away from a breakdown. Poor guy. He really has been working himself to the ground. “I adopted Pietro when he was three months old. You adopted Wanda when she was two. They were separated for whatever goddamn reason. We both took the kids to give them a better life. How the hell we wounded up meeting is-is fate, is all it is. It’s fate.”

“Reverse Parent Trap.” He muttered under his breath and Peggy snorted, looking utterly embarrassed that she snorted. He deserved that slap to his shoulder. It was odd, how close they felt and barely knew one another. All he knew that she was from England, she now lived in America, and she adopted the twin brother of his daughter. “So what do we do now? We can’t keep them away from one another, that’s fucking torture! We’re lucky they remembered each other. Or had some weird twin connection, hell if I know.”

The man was clearly frustrated and Peggy wanted to soothe him, but she had to keep her head on here. She looked back at the paperwork. The second they’d realized something was odd when she picked up Pietro from pre-K, Steve had rushed home to go get every document he ever had of Wanda and brought it back to her place.

The twins had to have some connection, didn’t they? They recognized one another, had some draw to it. When Steve saw them together, she gasped out loud because they looked so similar and not in the manner little kids do when they’re young. It took a DNA swab test designed by Stark Industries to work in under an hour to confirm their suspicions.

Explaining that the kids were not so much easier. There were endless questions and Wanda’s assumptions they split them up before Peggy had to prove that no they didn’t. It was the people in the hospital. Then Pietro’s declaration that all hospital people were bad and Steve tried to gently explain no they weren’t because sometimes bad, bad mistakes happen. So far, that’s all they could do was chuck this up to mistakes. They weren’t exactly sure. Besides, his ma was a nurse and she wasn’t bad.

“What do we do now?” Peggy mused, taking their coffee mugs and setting them in the sink. She started to clean the table with Steve’s help, carefully organizing everything together. She stared at the photo of Wanda on Steve’s shoulders in front of some museum, then of hers with Pietro on a goddamn child leash because he loved to try to run off. “I think you know. We can be civil about it.”

“Or…” Steve stood up and gently took the binder from her arms. There was a glint in his eyes as he took her hands and gently pressed a few kisses along her fingertips. It’s the boldest he’s been since he arrived at her apartment. “We don’t go about it civil. The first thing you did when you saw me was check out my ass.” Peggy’s ears turning pink told Steve he was right. “We can go about this the right way or…our way.”

If Peggy had anything to say, Steve didn’t hear it. Her lips were on his, his arms around her waist and pulling her close.

“So when is their birthday?” Howard asked, frowning as he watched the toddlers play with the water guns in the kid’s play area of Stark Industries.

Steve hated this. It felt like an interrogation room with the mirrored glass. They weren’t criminals. They were kids. Confused kids. “We don’t know,” he replied, turning to look at Peggy where she was bending over to study some flight plans charted on the table. That was Peggy, alright, newly appointed aviator of Stark Industries, Steve’s girlfriend [God that made him giddy], and an old-fashion soul. She loved computers but loved everything else handheld and on paper, so the charts were easier. “Pegs? Peggy.”

Peggy jumped and turned around, her cheeks flushed. “Sorry. I was double checking my courses. I swear, I didn’t lose that shipment,” she mumbled, still hung up on the situation. “Anyway, yes? What is it?”

“Birthday, Pegs,” Howard rolled his eyes and slid in the rolling chair to the table she was at. He rolled up the chart much to her pouting. “When are their birthdays? If you want me to get their paperwork right and set up properly, I need to know.”

Steve wasn’t sure if he liked Howard Stark. The man was eccentric, a ball of energy. He didn’t know when to sit still and bounced from one side of the room to the next. He was balls to the wall when hyped up about something. But he was Peggy’s friend and boss, so he set his opinions aside to focus on the matter at hand. They couldn’t trust many people with this information, Peggy had asked Howard to design the twins paperwork to reflect that they were twins and family and Steve and Peggy both were their parents.

“We’re unsure. Steve’s paperwork for Wanda says April 19th. Mine says September 12th.” She pursed her lips in thought, her eyes on Steve. A silent conversation passed through them, leaving Howard confused. Her head just ever so slightly nodded. “October 1st.”

If Howard had a complaint, he said nothing. Or at least Steve didn’t hear him because at that point Pietro had cornered Wanda with the water gun. Howard turned back to Peggy with a fond smile. “The guy must really like you. He’s quiet. Thoughtful.” She rolled her eyes at him, causing the genius to smirk. “And no, you didn’t lose the shipment. It was stolen. I got guys working on it.”

“Peggy!” Steve’s voice betrayed the emergency of the situation, causing Peggy to abandon Howard and run straight to the playroom.

She gasped at the sight of Steve held in the air, a screaming Wanda in his arms, surrounded by red energy. The second she got close, Steve fell to the floor on his backside but held a terrified Wanda tightly to him.

“We have a situation,” he groaned to her.

As if their already situation wasn’t tricky enough.

So that’s it.

Steve was married to the wonderful Peggy Carter, aviator for Stark Industries. He was a stay at home father with a pair of twins. Twins separated shortly after their birth and now reunited. Twins with powers. Confusing powers that not even they understood.

Their relationship had changed in a matter of weeks. With the secrecy of everything that happened, they agreed it was best to get married ASAP. Bucky wasn’t too happy about them skipping a wedding and getting to embarrass Steve with a speech but even he agreed.

So that was it then, huh?

Not quite.

Wanda’s powers were difficult to understand and anytime Steve thought he could understand how she manipulated things or levitated them, or controlled minds, he was reminded he barely had control of the situation.

Pietro was almost just as worse with his speed.

They were kids, toddlers at that. Confusing toddlers were bad enough, but toddlers with superpowers? Now that was just a daily headache. They couldn’t control them. Once Pietro sneezed and jolted back all the way through the house and into his bed. He just thought it was fun and showed his mama as soon as she got home.

So what were they supposed to do? The only thing they could.

Move to a bigger home in the countryside. Steve took up being a comic artist, but more focused on stay at homework. Peggy continued her job at Stark Industries because part of her didn’t trust Stark. He knew about the powers but they worried through every test and blood sample that he might betray them. Now that Howard seemed to be that guy but Peggy couldn’t take her chances.

Thankfully Howard’s contacts had come through and they found a teacher, someone named Xavier who could help with the twin's powers. The only problem was, the guy was somewhere overseas and it would be after the new year before he could come to assess the problems. For now, Steve would send him daily updates and Xavier had started to couch Steve through working the twins through some testing or obstacle or stuff.

Their improvement showed and the father couldn’t have been more proud.

All Steve could say was, yes this situation was certainly an odd one. He never thought he’d adopt a child, much less a better half of a twin, a powered twin at that. Never did he thought he’d be with someone the likes of Peggy. A beautiful woman that took no shit and had no problem dishing it back out or putting Steve in his place when he needed it.

He never thought he’d have a successful career as a comic artist or even be a stay at home dad, but here he was.

Here he was in a loving, beautiful home that was chaotic at the best times, with two loving kids who just always wanted a family to belong to. And really, Steve and Peggy had done their both to give it to them.

Life was chaotic but it was good.

It was their life.

One Peggy and Steve had decided they’d carve it out together.

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Modern Steggy #Avaitor Peggy #wanda maximov #peitro maximoff #They're hell beasts but love their parents #Parent Trap Reverse #Steggy Prompt #Nonny Prompt #I hope this is what you wanted #It's 2k

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muggycuphead · 3 years

Text

Hey look I did my take on a concept idea for a possible FNF AGK mod because why not lol

**WARNING!!**

This concept is actually based off of a real person and their backstory as well, not to mention it slightly contains strong topics such as school shooting allusions along with mental issues, yet I’m not meaning to glorify or romanticize these with this as I’m aware of how actually serious the matter is.

Viewed discretion is advised.

So yeah, I’m stuck on this whole FNF now and well…I’m trying to get out a little from it

Welp, let’s just get this rolling right round over here

Although my first idea for this was to make it a 5-6 phased level, each one referring to a façade of the Echter Gangster videos along with Norman’s actual rapper persona ‘Hercules Beatz’, after digging around the music he made surrounding his life during the hype of his satirical persona, and remembering that one video-documental covering it, I decided to make it a little more into his actual real-life story for the sake of making it more ‘true’ to the character (and cuz I think it’s truly inspiring as many would say)

Yet I’m still a little dum dum around the whole FNF stuff, so if there is something I might be lacking on over here, let me pretty please know

Aaand yes I accidentallydrew the sprites facing leftways (on Boyfriend’s position instead of the boss’), so beware for any technical mistakes in the drawings that I just gave up on fixing while editing the scans for the sake of better quality and lineart neatness (such as a weird-looking keyboard and stuff)

Anyway, these are my designs for the phases along with the environment’s characteristics:

Phase I – Der Echte Gangster kind

‘Yo homie! It’s the one and only, Leopold Slikk!’

Song suggestions:

WAS WILLST DU TUN

By Hercules Beatz

I’m a Real Gangster

By QPHX ft. Hercules Beatz

Scenario:

“Leopold’s” Neighbourhood (Monochrome Blue)

Author’s commentary: His design was kinda hard but real fun to make, and as you might guess, each item he has resembles a façade on his videos, such as the striped- puffy jacket referring to Das Murderische Jagd and that one video with him wearing a long white coat and stuff (also has to do with the fancy cigarette on his other hand) and the metal sign on his hand referring to Metaler, etc.

Also, I held myself from giving him the CV:C’R’ hairdo since Leroy is more like in a character ‘neutral point’ between Leopold and Norman (a fusion basically) and because it doesn’t match exactly with the original so ye

He still cute tho

Cute edgy bad boi...though he just acting but still

Phase II – The Angry German Shooter

‘…’

Song suggestion:

ANGRY GERMAN KID

By Hercules Beatz

Possible scenarios:

-School resemblance (Distorted Mind Perspective)

-Distressed Subsconcious Mind side

Author’s commentary: Okay, now I’m getting serious here I based this one off of the song’s cover in the (official?) video it got uploaded in, as you can tell by the black-dyed hair and markings on his face. The bottle and cans behind him, along with the Kalashnikov (or AK-47 to be more clear) he’s holding and the shattered keyboard below/broken glasses next to his foot, are an allusion not only to the ‘shooting threat’ event where he was drunk and stuff, but also his darkest years because of you know what. But aside from that, just fyi no the Kalashnikov wasn’t the hardest thing for me to draw but the pose of the mic-holding arm, I originally wanted it to be forwards, maybe holding one or two alcohol bottles, but I just gave up long after a few more attempts. And please don’t ask me why I picked these clothes for him specifically, I just wanted to think out a simple yet concordant outfit for his ‘broken self’

Still, yikes about those guys in the news and the comments on his PC spielen video in the old days of the net They clearly couldn’t distinguish between real and satire And yeah I might have had my silly thoughts while watching the parodies and stuff, but even I would leave the benefit of doubt and not be so scummy/cold like these guys, jesus christ

Phase II – H E R C U L E S B E A T Z

‘Yo, remember me?’

Song suggestions:

KING LIFE (Sunshine Remix)

MASSAKER [Secret extra boss?]

By Hercules Beatz

Possible scenarios:

-The Gym (outfit change possibility)

-The Night Club

-Norman’s (new?) Neighbourhood

Author’s commentary: Oml yess the man of steel on all his glory

I’m aro ik(?) but I can still say he’s quite handsome IRL, props to the man for taking care of himself, clap clap

Back to the topic, I honestly first though this one would be a pain to do…but surprisingly it came out really soft and fun, who could’ve thought? Guess the practice with buff characters, along with some new anatomy techniques I’ve been trying out did pay off after all

Also yeah the girl next to him is a recreation (my recreation mostly) of his gal, though the clothing I chose for her was mostly to match Norman’s outfit but in a softie-raddie style because reasons…and yes she also has a turn on the mic, a two-turns-me-two-turns-you dynamic to be more specific

And whoops I forgot the little back-down hair below his ears…oh well, not like it’s that much of a deal

The ‘bright’ eye on the other was just a silly detail I left there to give him a ‘savage’ vibe, nothing else. And as a little plus, if I were to make the sprites for when they have to rap, I’d do a particular one for each where there’s a little cuddle between them just to make it wholesome and stuff y’know- (left arrow for Norman, right arrow for his bae)

As for that ‘secret boss’ thing I put before, it’d think it like a ‘day-date-unlocked easter egg’ with a more ‘hardcore’ design and gameplay (if it ever goes to that point which I doubt but ok) where he goes entirely in solo and ‘full blast’ while his bae shares a seat in the boombox (a bigger one possibly) with Girlfriend and they both follow the rhythm as their boys get ready to 1v1 each other on the stage

So yea, that’s basically it

Imma head out now, bye

#angry german kid #leopold slikk #norman kochanowski #hercules beatz #keyboard crasher #friday night funkin'#fnf #friday night funkin mod idea #rap #hip hop #this guy is a real chad

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thepeacetea · 5 years

Text

The Past that Made the Future

Hey guys! So, um, here’s a new story. This will probably stay a one-shot, but here you go. Hope ya’ll enjoy! Peace!!

He was suppose to protect her. He promised he would. He promised her, and now she was gone, all because he couldn’t keep his promise. He swore he wouldn’t let anything happen to her, to the only person that was able to bring light back into his life and now she was gone. All because he couldn’t protect her. Because he wasn’t strong enough, or fast enough. He should have taken the bullet. If he hadn’t frozen on seeing the gun that madman had, his firecracker would still be here. She would be safe. She would still be here. But he froze, and now she was gone.

It was almost a year now. Almost a year since she was killed. Since his life spiraled out of control. Since everything came crashing down around him. As the minutes ticked on, drawing closer to the time of her death, he remembered.

11:40

The first time they met was unforgettable. He quite literally fell for her. He was running late for one of his classes at Gotham University of Art, Science and Technology. Sprinting down the stairs, his nose buried in one of his textbooks, there was no way he could have seen the small girl running up the stairs. One second, he was running down the stairs and the next, he was free falling.

Bracing himself for the collision with the unforgiving floor, he was instead met with a softer landing, promptly followed by the sound of something snapping. Sealing himself, he waited the pain to come, but five seconds past and no pain came. And then the ground shifted, groaning in pain. His eyes few open, locking on the soft ‘floor’ beneath him. To his horror, a tiny girl lay under him, face twisted in pain. The shutter of a camera snapped him out of his horrified trance. Scrabbling off the girl, his apology came out in a incoherent, jumbled mess.

“I - I am so - are you - please tell me your - I didn’t mean - I wasn’t looking and – do you need - I mean,” He tried to say, to many things pushing to the forefront of his mind and his mouth couldn’t decide what to say first. The students surrounding them could only snicker at they young Wayne’s mishap. Many of them relishing in the accident if only to have some dirt on the young heir.

“I – I think my arm’s broken.” Groaned the girl, who was gingerly trying to sit up, cradling her right arm.

Those words sent him in a bigger panic. He not only knocked a girl over, landing on her, but he also broke her arm.

“I- I’ll take you to a hospital. Do you think you can stand?” he asked, frantically searching for his keys.

“I- I think so. Do, do you have anything I could use as a sling, to support it? She asked, shift the weight of her arm slightly.

Tearing off his over shirt, he did his best to make a semi-comfortable sling for the girl. As he finished with the last knot, he glanced up, meeting her eyes for the first time, his breath catching. One of the most stunning pair of serine blue eyes stared back at him, studying him.

“Let- let’s get you to a hospital.” He managed to say, forcing the words out from the constriction in his throat.

They somehow managed to get to his Jaguar without aggravating the girls arm any farther. The ride to the hospital was tense. His mouth couldn’t seem to shut up, he couldn’t keep track of what he was saying as he tried to focus on the road and the condition of the girl beside him.

“Hey, listen. It’s ok. I don’t blame you, ok. It was an accident. It could’ve happened to anyone. But I need you to breath ok. Can’t have you passing out on me in the car.” She said, snapping him out of his panic state of mind.

“I- I fell on you, in front of the whole school! I broke your arm! How are you not mad at me?”

“One, it could have happened to anyone and if those people say otherwise, they’re jerks! Second, it’s not the first time I broke something, and knowing my track record, it will not be the last. Third, you already apologized, so you can stop, because like I said, it was an accident and I forgive you. And fourth, I think I may be able to get out of some assignments with a broken arm!” She said, laughing at the last reason.

The sound of her laughter caught him off guard. Not only was she not mad, but she was laughing it off. Just who was this girl?

“I’m Marinette by the way,” she said, almost as if she read his mind, extending her uninjured arm to shake his hand. Glancing at her for a second, he saw a friendly, welcoming smile adoring her round face as her eyes twinkled with a light that he couldn’t pinpoint.

“Bruce,” he said, reaching over to grasp her hand, slightly surprized at the strength of her grip.

“Well Bruce, I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

She had been right about that. In the six weeks she was wearing the cast, Bruce insisted that he help her. He even went so far as to sit in on some of her classes just he could help her take notes. He had never been one to warm up to anyone quickly, even when his parents were alive. But this girl, Marinette, there was something about her that drew him in.

She had always known what to say to him, even if he didn’t want to hear it. She was always there for him, and in time, he learned to stand up for himself and for others.

11:45 p.m.

“ . . . and I wasn’t getting any inspiration, like nothing. So I decided to climb on my roof, you know, to get a look at the stars and skyline and get some fresh air. While I was up there, looking over the city, I saw something fly through the night. I couldn’t tell what they were, and then one of them flew through the light. They were bats! And I watched them glide through the night, I suddenly go hit with this . . . wave of inspiration.” Marinette told him as they walked through the halls. They planned on getting lunch between their classes, and she was using their time to fill Bruce in on what had inspired her latest work. While he wasn’t . . . fond of the night terrors, he was impressed by his friend’s designs.

As they passed on of the chemistry labs, raised voice floated through the air, causing the duo to pause.

“ . . . simple freak, just do our assignments and we’ll leave you alone. Deal?”

Bruce knew that voice, Graham Alexander Towers the III. A spoiled rich brat whose family came from old money.

“Look, I’m not g-going to do your assignments anymore. I- I don’t have enough time to do my assignments.” a nervous voice countered, but it was so soft and low that Bruce almost didn’t hear it. Harsh laughter cut off whatever the other person was saying as the others cawed.

“You hear that boys, the coward thinks he has a back bone. Listen freak, unless you want to scared of turning corners, then you do it. After all, being scared is all your good at.” Towers sneered.

“And I suggest you develop a health dose of fear, cause once Pr. Adam’s finds out that you’ve not only been bullying someone else to complete your assignments but also threatening his top student, well, let’s just say that it’s not gonna be pretty.” Bruce’s voice cut through the chemistry lab, startling the occupants.

Spinning around, Graham locked eyes with Bruce, and for a few long moments, no one moved. The two heirs held each other’s gaze, Graham with ill hidden anger and Bruce with smug satisfaction.

“Wayne.” Graham spat.

“Towers,” Bruce countered politely, like they were discussing the weather. “I highly suggest that if you don’t want Pr. Adam’s to find out, then you leave him alone. If you try anything like this again, lets just say that the Towers’ name will be a little more mared then before. After all, the press will jump at the chance to do a story about how the Graham Alexander Towers the III was bullying a top student at G. A. to do his homework. It’ll be pretty and I don’t think your father will be very happy about that. I mean, he barely kept your last scandal under wraps.”

Graham considerable paled at those word. Wisely, for once, he kept his mouth shut and just stormed out, muttering curses under his breath. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Bruce turned to the other man in the room, who was looking at him with ill concealed awe.

“You’re Crane, right?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah, yes, I’m Jonathan Crane. It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Wayne. Thank you for that.” Jonathan said, shaking Bruce’s hand with enthusiasm.

“Bruce is fine, and don’t mention it. I’ve seen your work. You’re a top chem. student and I would hate for you to not reach as far because of Towers. Keep up what you’re doing, cause I have a feeling you’re going to do something big someday and blow Gotham out of the water.” He said, sending the young man a smile before leaving only to run into Marinette, who he had left outside the classroom. The last thing he wanted was for her to become a target of Towers. Heaven knows that family has it out for the Wayne’s. The look she gave him made him slightly self-conscious.

“What?”

“You’re a good guy, Bruce. A really good guy. I’m proud of you.” She said before turning on her heels leading them back down the hallway, leaving a stunned and flustered Wayne behind.

When he defended Jonathan Crane, it had been an impulse decision, but that marked the beginning of a change in Bruce. He was no longer the quite boy who didn’t pay attention to others. He started standing up for others more after that. He became a force you didn’t want to cross, especially if you crossed someone he cared about. That became very evident at the first gala he took Marinette to.

11:55 p.m.

The night started out amazingly, though Marinette had been a nervous wreck on the way to the gala, but once she stepped through the doors, everything changed. She practically light up when she saw the interior of the building. High archways, pillars of black marble, gothic architecture, the place screamed beauty. Everyone was curious of the girl the Wayne heir had brought as his plus one. They all knew how closed of the boy could be, so the fact that he even had a date was a shock to the upper class. But when they saw they Asian beauty he had on his arm, they were blown away. Compared to Bruce’s 6’2” frame, the girl’s 5’6” with heels, looked so small and fragile.

The women, once they saw the girl’s dress, instantly started flocking to her, asking who designed it. The black, off the shoulder dress, had a fitted bodice with a high-low skirt, something that wasn’t common. The front ended a little above the knees, while the back spread out behind her. the inside of her skirt was a beautiful blood red, creating a stunning contrast. But what really caught everyone’s attention was the fact that if you looked at the dress, especially the skirt, it looked like a bat. Like one hanging upside down, ready to fly. The pure creativity and beauty of it was mind blowing. When they discovered that she was the designer, she had nearly half the gala coming with requests to commission her for the next gala.

It was around halfway through the party that Towers got drunk and forgot exactly who he was dealing with. He had been getting a little handsy with most of the single ladies there, and all of them rather enjoyed the attention they were receiving from the heir of one of the richest and oldest families in Gotham. But he made the mistake of putting his hands where they shouldn’t have been. On the Asian beauty Bruce brought. One second he was trying to sweet talk her into one of the side rooms to ‘get acquainted better’ and the next he was on the ground with a bloody nose.

“What the hell, Bruce!” Towers yelled, shooting the man in question a glare as he desperately tried to stop the blood dripping from his nose

“Keep. Your. Hands. To. Yourself.” Bruce growled out, not so subtle putting himself between Marinette and Towers.

“Why should I? None of the other girls seemed to mind. Besides, she should be grateful someone of importance and influence showed any interest in her.” Towers shot back, not noticing the growing rage that radiated off the young Wayne. Nor did he take stock in the glare he received as he stood, meeting it with a mocking smile as he sent the girl behind Bruce a wink.

Suddenly, Bruce grabbed Towers coat laps in a crushing grip, hauling him uncomfortable close. It was only then that he felt a twinge of fear. He had never seen Bruce angry. Ever. And by the looks of the crowd, neither had anyone else.

“Let me make this clear to you, and I’ll use simple words so you can understand. Mari doesn’t need any ‘help’ from you. She never has and never will. And if I catch you trying anything like this with my girlfriend, well, we’ll find out who the real prince of Gotham is. So let me say this one more time. Keep. Your. Hands. Off. My. Girlfriend! Do I make myself clear?” Bruce growled out, his blue eyes, which had always been soft, guarded, and compliance, were blazing with such an intensity that startled everyone. He looked like an actual Wayne, and it made the other families nervous. They knew, all too well, how much power the Wayne name carried in Gotham alone, not mentions the rest of the America or the world. If they had to describe a Wayne in one word, it would be dangerous.

All Towers could muster was a shaky nod of understanding. Even drunk, he knew better than to disagree. Stumbling when he was suddenly released, Towers watched as Bruce shot him one last look that promised retaliation if he broke his word before gently grabbing the girl’s hand muttering ‘Let’s go’. The crowd parted as he lead the two of them out, everyone watched as Bruce tucked the girl against his side, leaving a certain level of chaos and shock in his wake.

“So . . . girlfriend?” Marinette asked as Bruce drove them back to the manor.

Bruce could only flinch at her word. He had hoped that she hadn’t caught that part, not that she couldn’t have considering that everyone in the vicinity had heard him, but he could always hope. Glancing over at the person who he could truly call his best friend, only to find her facing the window, chin propped on her hand as she watched the city past them by. He couldn’t read her, and that scared him. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, let alone feeling. But as the city lights flickered over her features, he couldn’t deny what he was feeling. He loved her. He was so in love with her that it hurt. She was his friend, the first real friend he could remember. She made him feel safe and cared for. He didn’t have to attempt to portray an image for her. Heck, she didn’t even care about his name. To her, he was just Bruce, the awkward boy she had met on the first day of university who happened to break her arm. She had changed him, and he couldn’t thank her enough. But that friendship, that platonic love had turned into something more for him. He wanted more. He wanted to be more with her, but he didn’t want to risk what they had. He couldn’t lose his best friend. He couldn’t . . .

“Because if you mean it, and I mean, really mean it, well, I wouldn’t object to it. I. . . I like you, Bruce. More then a friend should, and I don’t know where to go from here.” She said, cutting through Bruce’s spiraling thought.

For a moment, his brain shut down. She liked him? Marinette? The girl with the most creativity Bruce had ever seen? The girl whose culinary skills were the only one’s that made Alfred’s pale in comparison? Who always smelled of sugar and spices? Who, no matter how much she had on her plate or what she was doing, would drop everything if her friends needed help? The girl who was the only real person Bruce had ever met?

“ W-well, in that case, would . . . would you like to go on a date with me?” Bruce asked, stuttering over his. The seconds that followed where the longest of his life, there was no going back now.

“I would love to.”

The months that followed where the best of his life, and there was nothing he would have done differently. If he thought that he had been happy before, he had never been so wrong in his life.

11:56

It was six months after they started dating. Six month of pure bliss. Sure, they argued like any couple, but Bruce would change anything they had. Though their arguments were few and far between, every time he saw her angry, even when it was directed at him, he could help but notice how beautifully terrifying she was. She honestly reminded him of a firecracker. Beautiful when exploding but none the less deadly if not handled correctly.

They were walking around the manor grounds, simple enjoying one of the last summer day’s before classes started again. One of the things Bruce noticed since dating his firecracker was that she had an almost unusual love for nature. Every chance she could get, she would be out in the gardens or parks, simple enjoying the feeling of being outside. So they walked through the garden, with the late summer flowers in full bloom lending an enticing fragrance, Bruce couldn’t think of any other place he would rather be.

Glancing over at Marinette, Bruce couldn’t help but stare. Seeing her in the garden, surrounded by the flowers she helped plant, she never looked more beautiful. In the late afternoon sun, her hair, which had always been so dark, light up to a gorgeous midnight blue framed by the small flower crown of daisies. Her cut-off jean shorts paired with slightly oversized tee-shirt and bare feet gave her such an innocent look that Bruce couldn’t imagine living without her.

“Marry me.”

Bruce wasn’t even aware he had actually said that until Marinette turned around, her eyes blown wide in shock.

“What?”

“Marry me. Mari, I cant live without you. You brought light back into my life. I wasn’t living until I met you, I was merely surviving. You showed me life was meant to be so much more. With you, I feel like I can be somebody worthwhile. And I know that everyone will say we’re too young and that we don’t know what love is, but I know, Mari, I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to have a family with you. So, will you allow me the honor of becoming your partner, your protector? Will you marry me?” He asked, gently taking her hands, laying his heart out for her to either take or turn away.

Tears sprung into the eyes, causing the serene blue to sparkle as diamonds. For a split second, he thought she was going to say no, but it was only a second before she launched herself into his arms, crying with the most beautiful smile etched on her face.

“YES!! YES!! A thousand times yes!”

She had moved into the manor a week later. Bruce loved waking up next to her. To smell of her hair and the warmth of her body. He loved the feeling of curled against him, how her head fit perfectly into his shoulder.

11:57

It had a week since he had been home and Bruce couldn’t wait to get back to his own bed and he fiancé. But instead of an excited fiancé greeting him, he was greeted with the unusual sight of empty boxes. And when he said boxes, he meant that the entire entrance was full of empty boxes. The sound of music could be heard coming from one of the upper floors. Following the sound of Summer of 69, Bruce found Marinette dancing while painting one of the many unused room. Leaning against the doorframe, Bruce just watched his firecracker for the duration of the song as she continued to dance and belt out the lyrics to her favorite song. Watching her being so carefree brought a sweet smile to his face.

“Painting?” he asked once the song finished. Whipping around, her hair smacking her in the eyes as red paint flew from her brush. She looked at him startled for a second before her face light up.

“Bruce, your home!” was his only warning before a paint covered Marinette plowed into him. Laughing, he caught her with ease while planting a sweet kiss on her disheveled hair.

“I missed you too, Mar. Though mind telling me what you’re doing and why the entrance is packed with empty boxes?” he asked, gently setting her down as he brushed hair out of her face.

“Right. I’m sorry I should have cleaned those up early, but I got distracted. I have something important to tell you. So, the night you left, I had a dream. And usually I don’t pay too much attention to my dreams but Bruce, this one was different. It, it was so real. We, well we had a family. Bruce the house was so full and it was, I mean, I -I cant really explain it. It was amazing. There was a lot of people but I could only make four out clearly. Bruce, they were our boys, and . . . I cant even find the words to effectively describe it. Bruce, they were amazing. One of them, I think he was the youngest, was incredibly artistic. Bruce, his drawing, his painting were breathtaking! And he was such an animal person. Another one, he was insanely smart, like almost mindboggling. His ability to see thing, little things that no one else was able to see was incredible! Oh, and the other one, I think he was the oldest, was an absolutely amazing gymnast. His acrobatics, Bruce, it was like watching a top circus performer! And the last one, he – his grasp of literature was heartwarming and beautiful. I mean, his knowledge of classical literature rivaled the professors at the university. He was also a little mechanical, a little enginery I suppose.” Marinette explained, her eyes lighting up as she described the boys.

“So that’s why there are a bunch of empty boxes and your painting rooms?” he asked, trying to understand why she was acting like she was prepping for these boys. Like they were real.

“Bruce,” she said, looking at him with one of the most serious faces he had ever seen. “I know it sounds crazy, but whenever I have dreams like this, with this much clarity and detail, they always come true. Bruce, we’re going to have a family. And I know it won’t happen for a while, but I – well I wanted to get a head start, you know. In preparing the rooms. I want them to have a place where they can indulge in their passions. A place where they can learn and grow and create. I want them to have a place of their own. A place where, when everything is too much and they feel like giving up, that they can come to, to just, be themselves. For when the pressure just gets too much and they feel like giving up. A place where they can just be who they are without anyone telling them otherwise.”

Looking down at her while she spoke, Bruce saw that she truly believe every word she was saying. And as she explained herself, he started to believe her too. While everything she was saying sounded so surreal, the certainty with which she spoke and the spark in her eyes quickly won him over.

“Mar, tell me more about them.”

That wasn’t the first or the last time Bruce was surprised with his firecracker. It seemed like every day, she would do something or say something that he had never thought of or considered. And some of them would make a larger impact then others.

11:58

“Bruce?”

“Hm?”

“What do you think of heroes?”

Looking up from his book, Bruce cast Marinette, who was sitting on the other end of the couch, a look.

“Don’t you mean vigilantes?” he asked, earning him a playful kick from his seatmate.

“Well, if you want to be technical about it,” she scoffed, sending him a mock glare. “But seriously, Bruce, what do you think of them?” she asked again as she continued to sketch.

“I never really gave it much thought. Why the sudden question?” Bruce said, watching his fiancé’s pencil stop momentarily before it resumed it’s task. It was a few seconds before she spoke again.

“France, Paris specifically, had a set of heroes when I was twelve. Coccinelle and Chat Noir, or Ladybug and Black Cat. They were tasked with fighting a madman who called himself Faucon Papillon, or Hawk Moth. He would prey on the emotionally compromised, granting them power to feed their need for revenge. And in return, he wanted them to retrieve what gave Coccinelle and Chat Noir their powers. He called it their miraculous, two pieces of jewelry: earring that belonged to Coccinelle and a ring from Chat Noir. If he had those two items, it would grant him the powers of a god. It would grant him a wish.”

“How could two pieces of jewelry do that?” He asked after a pause, searching her face.

“Well, they were magical. I know this sound crazy, but I assure you that I am not lying. The ladybug represents creation and the black cat, destruction. Two halves of a whole. A ying and yang if you will. With these two combined, one rewrite reality. These heroes were not only given the responsibly for not only defending Paris from that emotional terrorist, but also prevent him from obtain ultimate power. With every akuma, that’s what we ended up calling the controlled person, they had to fight and purify, every cure that was cast, they became symbols to us. When people saw them, they knew that we still had hope. It took nearly five years for them to track Faucon Papillon down. Before the final battle. When they defeated him, Paris breathed a sigh of relief, but we never got to thank our heroes. They just, disappeared after. So, for me, heroes are a symbol of hope. When things look the bleakest, and everything is crashing down, they are always there. Fighting for people who they will never really know. They are fighting a war they may not see the end of, but they fight on. Because they know that if they fall, hope is destroyed. So heroes, or vigilantes, have my highest respect.” She explained, occasionally glancing up from her drawing, but never stopping.

“You really think highly of them don’t you?” he asked, moving over to her side of the couch.

“I do.” She said, as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, glancing down on her sketch pad. There, laying in startling detail, was a hero design. The design, unsurprising, was incredible. The suit was designed for maximum protection and agility, as well as identity concealment. She even went so far as to start weapons designs. But what caught his attention was the symbol she chose.

“Why a bat? Don’t they symbolize death?” Bruce asked as he studied the sketch.

“Yes, but they also symbolize rebirth and protection, and in Chinese culture, they represent luck or good fortune. They are often referred to as guardians of the night, and I think that’s what Gotham needs. In a city so full of misfortune and death, they need a symbol that shows thing can be better. That the city can be rebirthed into something greater. And while that hope is there, they also will have a protector. Someone to watch over them when darkness falls. I . . . I think it’s the perfect symbol for Gotham.”

11:59

It was New Years Eve and the gala was in full swing. Bruce and Marinette, though they had been engaged since August, had both agreed to wait until New Years to announce the engagement. Everyone agreed that the news was an amazing way to end the decade. The news of their engagement would be made public tomorrow, but for now, they would enjoy themselves and bring in the new year together. And then, it happened.

It was five minutes until midnight when a gun fire went off. Everyone started to run, screams of fear filling the air. Then the laughter started, that crazed laugh that shot terror though everyone’s hearts. They all knew that laugh. All eyes turned towards the sound, towards the stage, landing on a familiar figure. There, standing in all his terrifying glory was the Joker.

“Is this thing on?” he asked, roughly tapping on the mic, sending a high pitch squeal though the speakers. “Well, sorry I couldn’t be here early folks, but at least I’m here before the ball drops.” He said, waving his gun hand over the crowd. “You know what I always wanted to do? What I always dreamed of doing. I always wanted to bring a new year in with a bang! And I always wanted to be the one to ring in a new century. I mean, just think about it. A new year, a new century, a new era, brought in by the Joker himself. And your little party here, is baring witness to that. I mean, you guys are going to go down in history. I mean, how crazy is that!”

“The only crazy I see in here is you.” Someone muttered, but unfortunately, they didn’t do it quiet enough.

“Oh, oh I’m not crazy. You see I only do crazy thing. People think I have this elaborate plan, this vindictive that I follow, but you see, I just like to rattle a cage, and then I sit back and watch what naturally progresses from there. I may start out with a basis of what I wanna do, I start it and then I take things as they come. That way, I’m never surprized and it’s a guarantee for me to have a laugh.”

Then, someone whispered a little too loudly, ‘Monster’, and that seemed to flip a switch, Joker went from the happy lunatic to an angry one.

“Monster? Oh, I’ll show you monster!” he shouted, swinging his gun towards the crowd, firing without glancing at the target. During his distraction, one of the security guards, one of the few who hadn’t been gassed by Joker, fired his gun, his bullet finding it mark in the madman’s shoulder. While the crowd began to breath a sigh of relief, a desperate cry tore through the building.

“Mar! No! Nonononononononono!! Please Mar, look at me. Firecracker, please.” Bruce begged, cradling his beloved’s face with one hand as he tried to apply pressure to the chest wound. Her dress, a beautiful baby blue floor length gown, was splattered with blood, the stain growing rapidly around her chest.

“B-B-Bruce?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. I’m here.” He whispered, tears falling freely down his face as the warmth of her blood seeped past his hand.

“I-its gonna be ok, Bruce. It’s not your fault, ok. It’s not your fault.” Marinette said, gasping for air.

“No! No, you cant say that! You can’t- I don- I can’t lose you too. Please.” Bruce said, tears blurring his vision, a lump forming in his throat.

She let go of the hand that was attempting to stop the bleed, gently cupping his face, forcing him to look at her. The feeling of her cold hand, sticky with warm, fresh blood sent a whole new wave of panic through him.

“I love you, Bruce.” His firecracker said, giving him the sweetest smile. Just as the clock struck midnight, her hand slipped from his face, leaving behind a bloody print.

It was exactly a year since that night. A year since she was gone, and nothing was the same. The manor was colder, the days bleaker. There was no light anymore. They should have been married. She should have been here with him. But she wasn’t. And here he was, alone, looking through one of her old sketch books. Trying to picture how she always stuck her tongue out when she was concentrating on a drawing. Remembering how she would light up was the image in her head began to take form on paper. Turning the page, Bruce stopped at one of the drawings, the one with the bat suit. The one of his firecracker’s ideal hero of Gotham.

“This is quiet something your asking Mr. Wayne. The details in this suit, well, they’re very specific.” Lucas Fox stated, looking up from the suit design the young Wayne brought in, requesting to be made, and he wasn’t joking. The instructions for the suit itself were incredibly specific. Just by looking at the diagrams and designs, they would need to be followed to the letter just to make it plausible.

“I know, and you’ll have full funding for it, but I want it exactly the same. I don’t want a thing changed. Especially the symbol.”

@naclychilli

#maribat #brucinette #angst

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seyaryminamoto · 4 years

Text

Matching Heartbeats: Sokkla Saturdays 2020

Day 8: Yakuza AU

On FF.net//On AO3

(Directly inspired by THIS PROMPT! Thank you, anon who brought it to mind... writing this was a blast :DDD)

The soft whirring of the machine stopped, and the teenager who had been flinching on the tattooing chair now gazed at him with tearful, hopeful eyes.

"I-is it done now?"

"It's done," the tattoo artist replied, setting down his implements. "You're a whole new man, eh?"

"W-will girls think I'm cool now?"

"Oh, please. Tattoos are a mark of greatness! You should know this!" the artist laughed, shaking his head. "The worthwhile girls, yes, will love a good tattoo on a cool man, I guarantee it."

He was only eighteen, so he was old enough to make wild decisions he might regret in the future. He had graduated from high school recently, and wanted to impress girls once he started college, apparently. If only a tattoo were a guarantee of a shift in personality and confidence… but for most common people, it was but a placebo they forgot about soon enough. Tattoos didn't mean the same to them as they meant to a certain, select group of people…

That select group didn't request for machine tattoos, or vivid, sometimes even fickle designs that held simple meanings. But irezumi, or tebori, were a true sign of strength, a rite of passage he had branded onto his own skin successfully many times now… a sign that revealed the difficult, disciplined way of life he'd abided by for his adult years, even if he still worked with machine tattooing system on the side, too.

He left the teenager to recover for a few minutes, and then guided him to the parlor's door: a new arrival held it open just as the boy was slithering out, and the innocent young man shrank in his frame upon glimpsing the tall, intimidating man who stood outside the parlor. With so many tattoos across his body, he appeared to be a most dangerous threat to a young man who only wanted to visit the parlor for a simple snake tattoo upon his forearm – it hadn't even been bigger than three inches.

"E-excuse me!" the teenager squeaked, rushing out as fast as he could. From inside the store, Sokka smirked as he watched him go.

"Definitely not of our type of people, eh?" he said, glancing at the older man by the door.

The same smirk appeared on his counterpart's face, and the man even let out a hearty laugh before reaching to clasp his shoulder with his strong hand.

"Seems like business is doing well, son?" he asked. Sokka grinned and nodded.

"So far, so good!" he said, ushering Hakoda inside the parlor. "I know Master Piandao thought I shouldn't practice both traditional and modern tattoos… but hey, it pays. Casual kids these days don't think our lifestyle's worth emulating, but they sure believe tattoos make them more interesting…"

"A good belief to have," Hakoda declared. Sokka chuckled as he collected two cans of soda from a small fridge behind his desk, offering one to his father quickly. "Though… as it is, our clan could do with more than tattoos to move forward, Sokka."

"Uh… what's that supposed to mean?" he said, blinking blankly as Hakoda accepted his offer of a drink.

"It means… well, you know just the type of work I've been trying to get into," Hakoda said, his voice lowering into a growl. His business voice, Sokka had learned as much since childhood. "But it's been a problem, you see? Those damn Homura…"

"Are they fighting our people again?" Sokka groaned, shaking his head. "They keep sneaking into our territory and then pretend we're the ones at fault…"

"They surely think we are. The Homura, as you well remember, have been around since the Edo period," Hakoda sighed. "We're too new to earn their respect. But that's precisely why I'm here today."

"Because… you have a plan on how to earn it? Or you have a plan to get rid of the Homura, fancy ancestral clan it is?" Sokka asked, crooking an eyebrow before sipping his drink. Hakoda smirked.

"I have a plan to get rid of the problem they pose, yes," he said. "And I think you, my wonderful heir, are the most suitable person to fulfill it."

"I… what?" Sokka said, with an awkward grin. "Uh, that's a little much, isn't it? You sure, dad? Why me?"

"Well, for one thing, this is crucial for our clan's survival," said Hakoda. "Can't entrust such a delicate operation to anyone I can't fully rely on…"

"And I'm the best choice for it?" Sokka asked, puzzled. "I thought I was supposed to focus on the tattoo-side of things…"

"You are, of course," Hakoda continued, with a shrug. "But a young man as talented and intelligent as you… surely you can take care of both things at the same time?"

"That's a lot of trust you're putting on me," Sokka chuckled. "But I guess I'll have to hear you out first, huh? What's your plan, dad?"

Unwelcome news weren't too surprising in any yakuza clans. That being said, it wasn't every day the uncontested crime bosses of Kobe would find themselves troubled by the behavior of any of their competition… for there was no sense in there being any competition in the first place. They already had control of the area, they'd held it for years, and they had no intentions of yielding it, only of cementing it further.

Methods to achieve such a feat were more complicated than other clans might have believed: they didn't merely deal in common crime, but also in crime at the very heights of society. It wasn't merely a matter of extorting the right, connected people, but of commanding enough respect from them to obtain exactly the results they were looking for. Ozai Homura saw this as an art, and it was one he was more than pleased to teach his son, despite he appeared to not have much of a knack for economics and numbers.

That was when two of his closest associates had arrived, however, with that day's puzzling news:

"Takase, that madman supplier, has reached out to us," Zhao said, releasing a heavy breath. "It seems he wishes to serve the Homura clan, despite his many claims in the past that he only wished to work with smaller clans."

Ozai's heart beat fast underneath his old chest burn, the one with which he had proven himself the true heir of Azulon Homura. His own father had chosen to brand him, once Iroh, his older brother, had turned his back on the clan and abandoned the yakuza life. Ozai had been more than ready to inherit the role, no matter how nervous he was about the prospect when it first presented itself. Now, his own son had a burn on his face, one that proved his resilience and strength to their clan. That his eye could still function, despite his face had been burned directly, had been yet another source of pride for his father. He had feared Zuko might not be strong enough for his fated role… but all in all, two potential heirs were better than one.

"What brought about this change of mind?" Ozai said, scowling. "Such a sudden switch must have happened for a reason."

"I thought the same thing," spoke the second newcomer: Ozai turned his attention towards his daughter as she spoke. "I believe it's a play by the Kawakami clan, as a matter of fact. What its ultimate purpose may be remains to be seen, but I advise against trusting this sudden offer of generosity blindly."

It was only natural that she'd have unique, special insight to offer, and yet Ozai's heart surged with pride when Azula intervened: he knew that, when problems emerged, she was ready to resolve them. Wherever his daughter involved herself, everything simply turned out for the Homura clan's favor.

"The Kawakami clan?" Zuko repeated. "They're meaningless though, aren't they?"

"For the time being, they appeared to be," Zhao agreed. "But if they're acting boldly in this manner, perhaps they're seeking to strengthen their position somehow…"

"By losing their suppliers?" Zuko asked. "Don't you think maybe they're just weak, Father? Too weak to even hold onto their providers?"

"I'm afraid we're in no position to make assumptions," Ozai said, frowning. "Leaving lesser clans unchecked can result in dangerous problems in the long run. They may mean no harm, they may be dissolving, but it isn't befitting of the Homura clan to jump at every opportunity for profit all the same."

"It's not how we've carried ourselves over the last five hundred years," Zhao agreed.

"And that we've retained our standards has brought us this far," said Ozai, strongly. "This supplier of arms may not be reliable. He could even serve as an inside source for the Kawakami…"

"I thought of that as well," Azula interjected. "While it could be a fool's move, I can't claim the Kawakami clan's leadership is completely sound of judgment. They might want Takase to serve as an inside source on what's happening within our clan, what movements we've been making. And while a supplier is far from the most reliable source of information, that's precisely why it'd be a useful one: they're counting on us to lower our guard and take for granted they wouldn't be quite so stupid as to spy on us through a weapons' supplier."

"A Trojan horse," Ozai finished. Azula nodded. "Fortunately, we are not quite as gullible as that old civilization was. You shall take point on this, Azula."

"Should she…?" Zuko asked. Ozai raised an eyebrow before turning towards him. "It's only, well…"

"You know what your sister's duty is," Ozai declared. "One day, she will clear the way for you to be a successful clan leader, allowing you to focus your attention on the bigger picture while she removes the competition. She serves as your shield, and your first line of defense. This is no duty for the heir of the Homura clan to perform, but the perfect duty for the Homura clan's enforcer to deal with."

Azula smirked proudly at those words, staring at her brother pointedly. He shrank in his frame, shooting a light glare in her direction: he would have expected his duty as the heir of the Homura family to involve far more action than he'd seen so far. He bore the mark of the heir across his face, no less, making such a painful sacrifice to prove just how worthy he could be… and now he was stuck with what amounted to a desk job, while his sister, with her impeccable face and no burn marks to her name, dealt with the real threats herself.

It wasn't what he would have expected from the yakuza lifestyle, but he couldn't bring himself to protest, not when he knew his father would be cross and displeased if he failed to understand his place in the clan. But watching Azula walk away with that satisfied smirk only brought Zuko to frown further, to wish he could have a different life, one where no one would cast him snide glares, no doubt questioning whether he or his sister were better suited to inherit the great Homura clan…

"Back to your work, Zuko," Ozai said, once he finished speaking with Zhao about any other pending subjects.

Zuko turned again towards the screen, towards the stocks. Towards his studies… away from the complicated, strange times that would soon be brought about by two clans, set into collision by the wishes of their leaders, and by the actions of their respective chosen children…

The Kawakami headquarters appeared to be a perfectly simple building on the outside – true, with a few burly men standing guard by the doors –, that concealed nothing out of the ordinary behind its walls. It was where Sokka had been raised, and thus, his second home ever since he had moved out and into his master's home, six years ago. Nowadays, he lived in the upper floor of his tattoo parlor, where he spent most his time unless the clan required him for one reason or another. Today, of course, he would keep the parlor closed, despite he longed to return to working with his needles. Priorities were priorities, and no doubt his father would be cross if he disregarded his duties only to continue tattooing green teenagers with no true understanding of what a serious tattoo stood for.

He had been skimming through files in the headquarters' main computer when he heard a ruckus outside. Assuming his sister would handle it, Sokka decided to continue focusing on which other suppliers he could afford to send off to the Homura clan, when suddenly the door to the room was thrown open: Katara marched in, with Kattan beside her.

"Uh… something the matter?" Sokka asked, grimacing preemptively – there was no doubt something had gone wrong, especially going by Kattan's horrified face.

"Sokka, I was… I was on my way to Kuinase, to collect our tax?" he said, swallowing hard. "Two… two huge Homura henchmen were at the doors. I couldn't believe it, Sokka! I ran away before they could see me, but they were definitely Homura! I saw it, you know? That ugly-ass flame tattoo on their necks…"

"You just said… in Kuinase?!" Sokka gasped, jumping to his feet.

"Those bastards are messing with our territory," Katara snarled, looking at her brother intensely. "What are we going to do about it?"

"I…" Sokka gritted his teeth, clenching his fists.

Oh, so much for the damn Homura honor. Was this really how things worked with them? No wonder they were so successful: even offerings in good faith went nowhere with these people. Any clan that so much as attempted to reach out to them would be doomed to be destroyed, for they'd likely, deliberately, interpret such displays as weaknesses rather than as the olive branches they were meant to be. They accepted no competition, was it? No one could go toe-to-toe against them…?

Well, they were in for quite the surprise. He had no intentions of yielding, and if this was how they wanted to play things, he'd step up to their level, for sure.

"I have a plan," Sokka leveled his cold, blue eyes at his sister and Kattan.

Deep in the heart of Kobe, the Homura headquarters stood inconspicuously as a tall, beautiful skyscraper, masqueraded as a perfectly upstanding company like those that were hosted in the neighboring modern buildings, with glass panels reflecting the sunlight and blinding all passersby during the day. It was a beautiful building, manned by countless elegantly dressed people who wouldn't be out of place in an actual company.

One of them was, of course, Azula Homura. On her casual days, she'd wear a black leather ensemble. Otherwise, her attire was comprised by a perfectly form-fitting pantsuit, with lapels as sharp as the bangs that framed her face, or the eyeliner she applied flawlessly every morning. She was beautiful and daunting: few dared approach her, for few knew what to make of someone as intimidating as her. She seemed to know every member of the clan thoroughly, had been able to sniff out spies within their ranks since her teenage years, and was rumored to have a secret database with all relevant information about their members and their enemies. It sounded like a fantasy, however: how could someone possibly keep track of the largest yakuza clan in the nation so effectively, let alone keep track of other clans, on top of theirs? And of politicians, and of businessmen, too…?

Whoever thought it was a fantasy, however, was severely mistaken: she had eyes and allies everywhere, and she smirked as she sat at her office, a massive room within the tallest floors of the Homura headquarters. She had customized it for her personal use, with a massive screen that displayed the view of many cameras all across Kobe's area. One day, she expected, she might acquire access to more than just the ones from Kobe… but for now, it was enough for her purposes.

For just this had helped her track down a rather curious man on a motorbike, who had just parked outside Hiranuma Shoten. It would have appeared an utterly irrelevant happenstance… if only his very bearing hadn't given away that he, just like herself, was part of a yakuza clan. Only, he had to be from a lesser clan, not only because few clans could afford to be as luxurious as the Homura… but his clothes, his bearing, even his motorbike, revealed he retained a certain humility, despite everything.

She had connected quickly with Hiranuma's internal camera afterwards: she kept an eye on the new arrival, amused by his initial attempts to purchase some food… and then he leaned close to the old man selling meat. Before long, the two were laughing. And then the butcher wasn't laughing anymore.

It was all an intimidation act, masqueraded by captivating the defenseless with promises and honeyed words… an intimidation tactic she herself had stooped to in the past, a tactic she had asked some of her top-trusted advisors to perform recently in the Akashi area, too. But this man… he had a way with it, no doubt. And while Hiranuma's cameras weren't highly defined – she'd have to convince her father to finance better surveillance systems for those under their protection, it would only help in the long run – she had the distinct feeling she knew who this yakuza stranger was…

She bit her lip before inputting her first guess in her database, on the next computer. And while the database was at it…

She dialed a number expertly, without even looking at her phone, before raising it to her ear with her left hand while deftly navigating her resources with her right. Within instants, the man she was calling picked up the phone.

"Yes?"

"Hiranuma Shoten's owner is being extorted by a Kawakami, I believe. Perhaps even the heir, if my guess is accurate," Azula said, shifting through files quickly.

"We'll be there soon," the man on the other side spoke.

"I'll follow him too. You won't lose track of him," Azula promised.

"That would help us very much. We are ever at your service."

She smirked as she hung up the call, and just then, she happened upon the file she had been navigating through. She only had a picture of his face, which was exactly what the camera wouldn't allow her to see… but curses, she had updated this resource and hadn't so much as looked at the Kawakami heir's file so far, had she? Otherwise, she certainly wouldn't have forgotten that damn handsome visage…

"Guess you grew up just fine, did you?" Azula mused, allowing herself a small smirk.

His strong cheekbones, his manly, perfectly defined jawline, that dark skin, typical of the Kawakami's main branch… where so many in Japan preferred light skin, Azula found herself inevitably drawn to the opposite. A whim, she thought, the first times it had happened… but this damn Kawakami was likely to convince her of the opposite.

Though his most striking feature were his eyes: coldly, sharply, beautifully blue. Those were the eyes of a man who, if pushed, could commit a murder without blinking… and where that thought might have daunted anyone else, a yakuza princess, as she was often referred to, could only find that haunted darkness underneath the Kawakami's eyes to be a fascinating thing. If only his clan hadn't been founded over the last hundred years, he'd be under Homura protection instead, and…

… And she wouldn't finish that stupid, pointless thought. Fine, he was attractive, but she wasn't here to daydream over the enemy. Fool that she was.

Her eyes switched to the camera's screen again just when he was saying his goodbyes to a most grateful butcher. Azula snapped her tongue, making a mental note to send word to the man as soon as she had sorted out the Kawakami heir, if it truly was him. She really did hope it was him…

He had to be the one behind the generous giveaway of Takase, just as well. This was, she knew, retaliation for her own retaliation – she had sent henchmen to Akashi, to spread word that the Kawakami were weakened and couldn't afford to protect them anymore, losing suppliers as they were. No doubt that move didn't sit well with her rival, but she couldn't care less: he was playing a game he couldn't afford to win, and she would gladly teach him as much with each of her responses.

She swapped back to the street's camera and watched him climb aboard his motorbike, setting his helmet in place – he was responsible, of course, but he was also a man of style, wearing a helmet worthy of racers rather than a simple, casual, cheap one. It was, perhaps, the least humble element in his apparel. Azula smirked as she switched from camera to camera while following him across the streets: she jotted down the motorbike's plate, and was unsurprised when she found no identifiable bike under those numbers in the Japanese government's databases of legal vehicles. She couldn't help but smile as she continued to follow him, riding along with him, without his awareness.

He finally made a new stop: a yakiniku restaurant, Miyabi. Azula released a breath before redialing, once she confirmed he had entered the restaurant in question.

"He's in Miyabi now. How far away are you?"

"Oh, a change in location? Not to worry. We can be there within the next three minutes."

"Make haste, then. I can follow him as much as necessary, but this is for the community's good, isn't it?" Azula said, sardonically.

"Of course it is," replied the serious man on the other side. She smirked.

"You're never any fun," she said.

"I'm not paid to be fun," was his reply again.

"Not sure you could be, even if you were," she said, releasing a breath. "I'm counting on you, Renkai."

"As you wish."

Again, the communication was interrupted, and again, Azula was free to watch the Kawakami heir, now through Miyabi's better cameras. Yes, this was him, no doubt. His haircut was different nowadays, with that manly shaved undercut, as well as that perfect ponytail – was it called that, in his case? She sported one of her own, though his was shorter than hers – that only enhanced his intimidating factor. He appeared as a modern samurai, Azula guessed… perhaps that was what he fashioned himself as. The idea should sound ridiculous rather than appealing, and yet…

"How you've grown, Sokka," she whispered, biting her lip.

She had met him only on occasion, during yakuza clan meetings, whether those held to solve disputes between other clans, or to strike temporary alliances to destroy those who weren't playing by the rules. He always stuck to his father, just as Azula always stuck to hers. They had met each other's gaze a few times, as they were amongst the only young people in the room, even when they were teenagers… but that had been all. She wasn't sure they had ever exchanged any words, and if they had, she sure had forgotten them. They had only been children back then… now they were fully grown, actual players in this game, ready to make their mark across Hyogo prefecture by any means necessary. He was surely just as ambitious as she was… and that thought was thrilling to her.

Though she wondered if she was giving him too much credit: how would he react, once the inevitable happened? Once the men she had sent after him broke through Miyabi's door, in less than a minute now…

Azula couldn't contain a grin as she saw him growing nervous: was he hearing the sounds of doom? Was he truly so foolish as to assume it wasn't meant for him? He wasn't doing anything harmful, no, of course not, he was innocent… she could see it all in his face, and it was more than laughable. Oh, perhaps she really had been giving him too much credit: the Kawakami could be as attractive as they wished, but they were no match for the full forces of the Homura clan.

The door was thrown open before Sokka had any chance to react: he raised his hands bitterly as the police stepped up, with their blunt weapons at the ready in case he did anything dangerous. Miyabi's owner, an elderly woman, appeared utterly horrified by whatever was happening, but she deflected all blame and pointed to Sokka constantly… that was, of course, the natural behavior of anyone who owed their safety and wellbeing to a yakuza clan. She couldn't be caught dealing with someone from another clan, absolutely not…

Azula laughed and sighed, watching as Renkai, clad in his immaculate, white uniform, dragged Sokka through the doors after shackling his hands. Well, that had been fun, even if her contact within the city police hadn't intended to amuse her…

Yet the stubborn, angry yakuza shot a glare at the nearest camera in the streets, taking her by surprise for it. Had he known he was being followed remotely? Had he noticed, perhaps? Surely not… surely he believed it was just the police's doing. He might not have known the Homura had infiltrated their organization for almost two hundred years… and yet, even through that low-resolution camera, she could sense his bitterness, and she relished in it. A soft chuckle left her lips as she raised an eyebrow defiantly towards his image:

"Well, then… what shall be your next move, Sokka Kawakami?"

Katara and Kya didn't hold back the judgmental stares once Sokka's fine was fully paid, and he was a free man once again. He scoffed as they walked together, as the sunset ominously promised they'd be in hostile territory by nightfall, but surely they'd be able to find a car to take them to Akashi before long…

"You really are an idiot, picking fights with the Homura like this…" Katara said. Sokka huffed.

"I'm not picking fights! I was trying to be friendly, they gave me the finger figuratively, so I retaliated!" he said. "But they're just… Ugh! How shitty can they be, setting the police on me? That's bad form! That's like… tattling on your sibling when you're a child!"

"Hey! Are you really bringing up our childhood now? You're the one who landed himself in this mess!" Katara scolded him, but Sokka rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Kya groaned and wrapped an arm around each of her children's shoulders, pulling them together and against her body. Even then, Sokka and Katara wouldn't stop scowling at each other.

"What matters most is you're safe now, Sokka. Safe, and soon outside Homura territory," Kya said, smiling at her son. "I know you must be frustrated, dear, but take it easy. Whatever mission your father gave you, surely there's other ways to fulfill it…"

"I wonder about that," Sokka grumbled. "As far as I can tell, I'm simply…"

A light tremor, underneath their feet, stopped Sokka halfway through his rambling. Katara gasped, despite quakes were perfectly common in Japan… for the vibrations were growing stronger, worrisomely so.

"Mom, Katara!" Sokka shouted, wrapping his arms protectively around them as he ran them away from the tallest buildings.

They were lucky to be out in open spaces, but panic flared inside all their chests as the earth's movements continued to shake them to the bone. People were screaming – glass shattered, and even cracks on the floor appeared to spread as the telluric movements continued for what felt like an eternity. Sokka continued to shield both his mother and sister with his body, in case any glass from the buildings around them came crashing down, but they managed to reach a park safely, without any such projectiles falling upon them.

That being said… the vibrations continued, and loud, explosive sounds could be heard across the city. Sokka still held onto both Katara and Kya, who seemed to cower from the rustling earthquake in his chest. He'd protect them… but earthquakes of this magnitude were seldom harmless, and the sounds they could hear in the distance weren't promising. Even before the shaking dwindled, he knew the whole prefecture had sustained a lot of damage… and he knew he wanted to be there to fix as much of it as he could, no matter how difficult it might be.

It wasn't the worst of all earthquakes, and yet a 7.7 quake was still powerful enough to shake down the foundations of the weakest buildings in Kobe. The damage was difficult to assess at the earliest stages, but the wounded numbered around the hundreds, and the confirmed death toll wouldn't be much lesser than that. News outlets reported on the disaster, as relief efforts seemed to flood the city area, aiding those who had been left homeless, those who had lost everything.

The Homura clan had been safe, for their perfectly modern building hadn't sustained even a single crack to its foundations. The evacuation was quite nerve-wrecking, for many people couldn't possibly stay calm in the face of catastrophes, and their anxiety could prove contagious to those who, under other circumstances, might have handled themselves better. Even Zuko had appeared close to a nervous breakdown for a time, and Azula wished she could stop from being affected by other people's actions or reactions… once she was safely outside, and most the evacuation efforts were finished, she turned to her father, who stood at their building's entrance, surrounded by bodyguards, a stern scowl on his face.

"What… what shall we do?" she asked. Ozai scoffed.

"This will be an economic disaster. Again," he growled. "I'll let you know if I need your assistance."

Azula swallowed hard but lowered her gaze. Well, at least she'd done her job before this tragedy took place. The Kawakami clan would certainly not be much of a problem, though she did wonder quietly, despite her better judgment, if the heir had been released from jail before the earthquake started…

Why did she feel the need to check on that? Maybe she had been enjoying the strange entertainment he provided her with… maybe that was it. But it was no reason to focus on him now, for sure. She didn't know the guy, not truly, and however handsome he might be, his wellbeing was his clan's business, not hers. That's how life worked. That's how it had to be. Yakuza looked after their own, and that was that.

Yet as days passed, and relief efforts became the sole focus of the bulk of the population, unsettling news reached Azula by word of mouth: it seemed a yakuza clan had taken to offering relief, personally, to the victims of the disaster. She received pictures soon, of those men in what in her eyes was outdated yakuza apparel, covered in tattoos, helping hoist debris off buildings. There were even women, also bearing similar tattoos, offering relief in the form of food and shelter to many who were left with none.

And then the helicopter: they had a helicopter. They were scouring the city from above, searching for survivors, sending their people to dig through the worst rubble until they saved as many lives as they possibly could.

She could tell it was them, even before seeing a picture where he, of all people, was featured. A picture of him climbing out of a fallen building, carrying two battered children in his arms, an exhausted expression across his handsome, haggard face. A symbol of hope, of hard work, of strength… all of it, carried across those richly tattooed arms. If she hadn't been floored by the impact of their actions and rescue efforts, her loins might have just taken the wheel to focus, as unnecessarily as ever, on what a powerful man the Kawakami heir had turned out to be.

But there was something far more important than that to worry about. For her father would need to hear about this. And once he did…

"Curse them! Curse those bastards!" growled Ozai, slamming the tablet on his office's marble floors. Azula flinched when the device shattered by her father's violent gesture: Zuko as well recoiled, watching his father warily, in fear of how far his temper would take him this time.

Ozai shook his head as he paced through the room, the shattered tablet forgotten now. Zuko swallowed hard and raised his voice, no matter how daunting his father's wrath might be.

"We should be out there too. If we help…!"

"Silence! I won't even hear of it!" Ozai snapped, turning quickly to shoot a deadly glare at his son. Zuko shrank in place, daunted immediately. "We won't imitate lesser clans! We will find another way to put an end to their ambitions. They've certainly bitten off more than they can chew if they expect they'll ever be allowed to take our clan's place!"

"If I may…" Azula chimed in, and this time Ozai did appear inclined to listen. Yet another blow to Zuko's ego, although this time it didn't seem Azula was about to rejoice for it. "A yakuza clan looks after their own. That is our founding creed."

"What of it?" Ozai said, and his temper appeared poised to rear its ugly visage again.

"I believe we should look after our own, yes," Azula said, swallowing hard, intimidated as well… despite she was certain her plan would appear far more agreeable to her father than her brother's words had been. "You know I keep tabs on all our associated businesses. I suggest we offer monetary relief to those associated with us. While it may not garner our clan the same renown and media attention the Kawakami might attain…"

"It will ascertain they know we haven't forsaken them," Ozai finished. Azula nodded. "And it will prevent them from turning their backs on us, at least."

"I hope so," Azula said. "We do have the funds, don't we?"

"Yes… yes we do," Ozai said, releasing a breath. "Well, then. Perhaps it is time we remind the common folk of how valuable it is to stay on the Homura's good side."

Zuko frowned, glancing at his sister uneasily as they both were dismissed from Ozai's office. With curt bows, the two siblings left together, and Zuko barely waited for the door to be closed before scowling at Azula.

"Why did you suggest that? We're not loan sharks, are we?" Zuko said. "We can't let the Kawakami upstage us…"

"They already have," Azula hissed back. Zuko froze in place. "The Homura family doesn't follow the examples set by others, Zuko. You should know better than to even suggest we do. We're the trailblazers, not them. And if we simply fall in line, right behind a lesser clan, our reputation will be far more damaged than it is already."

"But… those are actual people, in danger, suffering," Zuko told her, as they walked together towards the nearby, modern elevator. Azula scoffed, but Zuko didn't relent. "We can't just toss a check at them and expect it'll all turn out for the better!"

"We'll make wire transfers, much faster and more effective than checks…"

"That's not my point!"

"I know it's not, but I wish it were," Azula hissed, glaring at him. Zuko froze in place. "Keep talking like this, and it won't be long before father decides you're not worthy of your burn mark. You sound like Uncle Iroh."

Zuko gritted his teeth as Azula stepped into the elevator. She didn't wait for him to enter it too before tapping her floor, and Zuko made no efforts to join her as the doors closed. Well, waiting for another elevator ride should give him some time to think, at least.

Truthfully, they had never involved themselves with these disasters beyond looking after their own people. At least, not as far as Azula remembered. She had memorized the clan's history since childhood… and it was impossible to think of any other situation where they had barged into the scene the way the Kawakami had just now, because the Homura simply didn't do that sort of thing. If they ever had, they would've beaten the Kawakami to it already.

Azula sighed, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. What she'd offered Ozai was but damage control… a manner of retaining some power, before the media and the relief efforts of the Kawakami clan stole it all from them. And yet why, even as she made her way to her hi-tech office, was it the only thing she could evoke in her mind was that image of the strong, tall Sokka Kawakami, helping children to safety…?

"You're not serious, are you? Money? That's what they're doing?" Sokka asked, aghast, staring at Hakoda in chagrin.

And yet Hakoda smiled proudly, patting his strong son's shoulder gently. The whole family was gathered for lunch at one of the relief centers, where they had aided in distributing food to countless homeless people who now looked to them as saviors. They'd need as much help as they could get… but most the ones who had businesses, whether still functioning or not, had already stopped appearing at the Kawakami clan's relief centers. Their absence had bothered Sokka at first… and now it unnerved him, despite it seemed his father was perfectly comfortable with the situation.

"The Homura have offered monetary relief to the people, yes," Hakoda nodded. "And yet not all have taken it. Beyond that, many new faces have turned to us for help: not the Homura, not the government, us. While we have certainly taken a blow to our finances… it's safe to say we're on a good path at the moment, Sokka. You needn't panic, alright?"

"I… I know that, it's just… ugh," Sokka growled, shaking his head. "Every new thing I know about the Homura makes them more despicable. They're so… distant, even with those they're supposed to be protecting. And giving people money when they've lost everything… as if that'd be any good."

"It helps in its own way," Kya acknowledged, sipping her plastic cup's drink slowly. "But it's not the honorable way to proceed, no."

"That's the thing with the Homura. It always has been," Hakoda said. "Honor… it's an important concept for some yakuza: not them, though, no matter if they claim otherwise. Profit drives them, profit and success. And while I did ask you to figure out how to strike an alliance with them, you should never forget that truth, Sokka. Even if they decide to join forces with us, the Homura aren't going to do anything against their interests. They'll always look for profit and advancements. It's not how we should ever conduct ourselves, for sure."

"We won't," Sokka said, stubbornly.

"Why ally ourselves with them anyway?" Katara asked, with a grimace. "Our great-grandfather really should've set up his clan elsewhere. Having the Homura for neighbors is dreadful."

"They could be worse," Hakoda smiled, awkwardly. "But I only want an alliance for the sake of our clan. I don't want them to continue phasing us out. Other clans have joined forces elsewhere in the country, you know? Mainly to hold the fort against other up and coming clans. We could do the same thing with the Homura, and it'd certainly be the strongest alliance in the nation…"

"Now it is. Considering how big we've gotten," said Katara, grinning. "We have a lot of new recruits, begging to join the clan."

"See? It all comes together," said Hakoda, beaming at Sokka. "Don't despair, my boy! Hope is in the horizon!"

Was it, though? Sokka bit his lip but nodded, in surrender.

He didn't return to headquarters with the rest of his family after the food operative was finished. Instead, he took to doing what he'd done since the earthquake: walking across the streets, assessing the damage, pondering how many efforts and resources were needed to fix it. His parlor had been safe, he had checked on the day after the earthquake, but the nearby houses, especially the traditional ones, had sustained plenty of damage, some even torn down completely by the shockwaves. He had helped as best he could in his area, and then proceeded to offer support everywhere his father told him to go, as he organized the relief efforts to the best of the Kawakami clan's ability.

But Hakoda's words about the Homura returned to mind. Sokka sighed as he made his way through the sidewalk across Matsugaoka Park, pondering just how complicated this whole matter of an alliance would be. They didn't share the same values, nor did they work for the same purposes. Ozai Homura had always been known to be a merciless clan boss… meanwhile, Hakoda was the most spirited, good-natured of them all, as far as Sokka could tell. If the Homura were truly this dishonorable, though… was it even worth it to strike a bargain with them?

It could allow them to help more people, Sokka reasoned. The Homura, if they ever let loose with their money, at least just a little, could fund immense community programs of the sorts the Kawakami had never been able to handle themselves. It was a valuable alliance… and not having to fear the Homura henchmen would fight their own on sight was quite a good idea. Not being sent to jail because he was trying to poach their people would be nice, too…

How had they even pulled that off, for starters? He had heard the Homura kept an eye everywhere, on everything… he frowned, blinking at a contraption not far from where he walked: traffic cameras. There had been one near Miyabi, too. While those surely were connected with the government, there were far more cameras on this street's surveilance contraption than the strictly necessary, weren't there? He scowled, hands on his hips, as he stopped to stare at them: some were aimed towards the sidewalks, not exclusively the street. It wasn't that the government was too cheap to do this… but six cameras in the same place? Excessive… and perhaps meaningful.

Was this what the Homura did? They surveilled the whole city through an immense camera circuit? Were they setting up their own devices, or were they working covertly with the government and the police…? Both possibilities were there. But he guessed, as he stared at the camera aimed at him, that he could send a message to the Homura all the same: an alliance should be struck, as Hakoda had asked of him. An alliance that should prove favorable to both clans, an offering of something the Homura lacked… the Homura, who had everything in the world, as far as everyone know.

Everything but one thing, come to think of it. Sokka stroked his chin, pondering Kattan's words, and his own knowledge of Homura henchmen, before making up his mind about what the next move should be.

He returned to headquarters quickly, rather than heading home: the one man he had to find, the one he was looking for, happened to be there, waiting to meet with him.

"I was rejected!" Takase declared, throwing his hands in the air. "Sorry, but you can't get rid of me that easily. That's just how it is."

"I see," Sokka chuckled. "Well, it's good to have you back. Though I'm surprised they rejected you so boldly, huh? One would think they'd know better than to toss away a great asset like yourself."

"And quite the asset I am, too, but if they don't know my worth, it ain't my business," declared Takase.

"Good, though… can I ask, who did you meet while they deliberated on whether to work with you or not?" Sokka said. "Was it goons, or were there any higher-ups in there…?"

"Eh? Two higher-ups, actually. They can't have goons deciding on hiring a bigshot like me, eh?" said Takase. "The first one… he had those ear whiskers, you know? Them bug fuzzy hair right past the ears…"

"Mutton chops? Sideburns?" Sokka asked, with an awkward smile.

"There, there! That's the thing!"

"Then Zhao Homura," Sokka hissed. "And the other?"

"Eh, some girl. Probably a little younger than you… your sister's age, maybe? But it looked like she was the boss instead. I didn't catch her name, but it felt like… like she was a razor, somehow? You know? I thought to offer to design a razor for her, but then she cut me down, so I thought – does she even need one? Heck no!"

"Was she… dark-haired?" Sokka asked. "Fair skin? Maybe gold eyes?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, all that," said Takase, nodding. "She was dressed all fancy too. You know… maybe she's the Homura daughter! Ha! I hadn't even thought of it, but it's got to be her…"

"It's got to be her, alright," Sokka smiled slowly, the gears turning gradually in his mind.

It did make perfect sense… she was, after all, rumored to be the true strength that held the Homura together. She was seldom seen unless it was necessary, and her private life was, in all likelihood, as private as it could get. Sokka couldn't even remember the last time he had seen her in person… surely they had still been as good as children. But that was then, and this was now: he needed to contact her, and to settle their dispute in the smoothest way possible.

The best means through which to achieve that, however, was none other than his top-of-the-line, networking sister: Katara was happy to see him, as ever… and utterly confused when he voiced his request.

"You want me to tell you everything I know about Azula Homura?" she repeated. "Well… damn, not much. She keeps to herself? Some people say she's obsessed with her work, and the whole reason the Homura clan is even succeeding despite the massive loss of members they had after the previous heir abandoned? You remember that story, right?"

"Right, the heir who defected and ran away to Korea?" Sokka said, nodding. "His son was killed or something, wasn't that it?"

"I think so," Katara answered. "No idea if Azula Homura has an heir burn, if that's what you wanted to know…"

"I doubt it," Sokka said, with an awkward grin. "But… do you think you know people who know her?"

"I think I could reach her, if you need me to?" Katara said, eyeing him warily. "Why? If you want an arranged marriage you could ask for something a little less outlandish…?"

"I wasn't going to ask for… hey. Hey, now, that's not the worst idea," Sokka reasoned, smirking as he prodded his stubble with his thumb. Katara huffed, rolling her eyes.

"I bet this is all over dad's request to help him ally with the Homura… well, whatever!" she said. "I'll see what I can do, I'll try to get her a message. But just so you know…"

"I owe you, big time, yep," Sokka grinned. "I'll design a great tattoo for you!"

"You'd better," Katara huffed, smiling at her brother: she wasn't quite as covered in tattoos as he was, but she already sported a few of her brother's creations on her arms. Maybe one on her ankle wouldn't be a bad idea…

Sokka returned shortly afterwards with the message he needed to convey. And Katara took to unraveling the network through which she'd bring it to the Homura princess, a far more complicated feat than she expected it to be.

The key to the plan was a perfectly discreet locale, a classy bar behind a beautiful brown door, in a small building. Shiori had often been a location suited for casual encounters between low-ranked clan members of any yakuza family, and as it happened, the most common visitors were the henchmen of the Homura clan. Katara found the right person to whom she could ask to slip the note to any Homura who appeared capable enough to act on it: the karaoke room within the building was where the exchange took place, where a young man of the Kawakami took to any and all extremes to convince a mature Homura woman to see to it that Sokka's message was conveyed successfully.

The message was then passed from Homura hand to Homura hand, until finally it reached the destination it sought, when a tall Homura goon had knocked on Azula's door, gesturing at a small leaflet in his hand.

"Seems like you've got a message. Nothing harmful in it, I checked, but… might useful, I dunno," said the goon, handing the message to the heir's daughter. Her eyes narrowed as she snagged the paper from his hand… and her heart, so tempered and evenly paced, suddenly raced upon reading the contents of the message.

Got a business proposal for you. Check your logs, Meimai Central, 12/6: Matsugaoka Park on 15/6, at 7. I'll make it worth your while.

Her chest tightened as she read those words. Someone had unraveled the rather obvious truth – that she could see through the cameras all across the city. And that person had a business proposal for her: even before dismissing the goon, and searching through her camera logs, she knew who she'd find in the video registry… and her heart nearly skipped a beat when she saw him, staring directly into the camera, waving, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive and definitely inappropriate manner.

A business proposal… well, she could hear him out. She should, if anything: if she found any weaknesses worth exploiting, she'd tear the Kawakami down and protect the interests of the Homura. That was what she'd do, what she'd always been meant to do…

Though, if she took a light detour before getting there, in case the Kawakami heir was interested, she wouldn't complain one bit.

Sokka breathed out slowly as he stepped off the sidewalk. The street was fortunately empty… or perhaps not quite that fortunately, really. Surely the Homura princess had set up some sort of forcible detour for cars to ensure the encounter between them would have perfect privacy… and perfect surveillance by her people. He released a breath as he entered Matsugaoka park's premises, sensing a thousand eyes upon himself… knowing there might as well be a thousand. There was no way she would attend this meeting without the thickest, sturdiest security detail ever.

He breathed out as he paced inside the park, searching with his gaze until his eyes finally landed upon a human silhouette, standing amidst the trees, under a lamppost with unsteady, blinking brightness.

He started on his way towards her as quietly as possible, assessing the enemy – or the ally-to-be, if all went well – as thoroughly as he dared. And there was plenty to assess, too: she had decided to wear a leather ensemble for this encounter, apparel worthy of a biker, Sokka thought to himself, but where it could have looked ridiculous in anyone else, it was breathtaking in a woman of her figure. Her long, dark, flowing hair played in the breeze, held up in a long ponytail that exposed her nape frequently, if the wind blew her strands in the right direction.

Even now, when looking at her from behind – and enjoying thoroughly the sight of her rear's curves, goodness, how dared she dress in leather when she already had a killer body? – his whole system jolted with anticipation. Chances to interact with other clans were sparse, and they never ever sent anyone who looked remotely as good as Azula Homura did… though Sokka hoped, despite he knew it was stupid, that her face wouldn't be all that pretty. If it was, he'd be a goner, so if just that…

"That's far enough," spoke a strong, feminine voice: her voice. His body shivered involuntarily, as he halted on his spot, obeying her immediately.

She turned then, and all his hopes shattered altogether: she was gorgeous. Everything about her was impossibly appealing, to the point his damn body appeared to be reacting to the Homura's presence as it pleased. No, there was no reason to be aroused, not when she would only be here with very strict purposes in mind…

"You're awfully relaxed, aren't you?" Azula Homura asked. Sokka swallowed hard but smirked.

"If your sharpshooters take me down now… well, can't say I'd ever hoped to get a better view than this, in my final moments," he said.

"How terribly corny," said Azula, rolling her eyes. "Does that sort of line work with all the girls you meet?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I said I don't usually attempt to meet up with girls who have hundreds of sharpshooters aiming at me, would you?" he said. To his delight, she smiled.

"Your dating life must be boring, if so," she said. He smirked.

"Has been, so far. Are you feeling bad for me, all of sudden?" he inquired, casually. Azula scoffed, though she still smiled.

"Not quite. I'm amused, if anything," she said. "But I'd assume you didn't ask me to come here just because you wanted to swap our dating histories, did you? I could've simply sent you a summary of mine if you'd asked…"

"Right. And I'm sure you've already looked through mine?" he said, smirking. "Seems like you know everything going on in this city."

"And I thought the Kawakami were relegated to southern Akashi, hence, not in this city," Azula said, raising her eyebrows. "Or is it that you're here to sell Kawakami territory to us? Want me to keep watch over your city, too?"

"Want to keep watch over it?" Sokka asked, raising his eyebrows. Azula's amusement receded. "Look… you're smart. Smarter than anyone else in the Homura clan. Surely the thought has occurred to you, right? We Kawakami are a pointless, boring rock in your fancy Homura shoe. We get in the way of your business, whether intentionally or not, because we took office way too close to your domains. And where you guys probably think the best solution is to snuff us out… I think there's a much more peaceful solution we can consider."

"And what's that?" Azula asked, with a sardonic smile.

"An alliance," Sokka said. Unsurprisingly, Azula scoffed.

"What do we have to gain by allying with you? What would the Kawakami offer the Homura that we lack? This is what you and your father have been after? The reason you gave us Takase, the reason you started to defy us by attempting to steal our people…"

"Hey, now, you started it!" Sokka pouted. Azula, despite herself, smiled.

"You're childish. And only a childish man would make a suggestion as outlandish as this one," she said, simply. "I should have the sharpshooters shoot you indeed for all this nonsense…"

"Don't know if you should do that," Sokka said, smiling. "Your defenses are within the park, aren't they? Well… I may have posed a few friends in the nearby buildings just as well. I made an educated guess regarding where you'd position yours, offered my own sharpshooters the possible locations for your henchmen…"

"So you're saying, if mine shoot you, yours will shoot them… you'd die, then my henchmen die, then I make myself scarce and I survive while you don't?" she said, smirking. Sokka chuckled and shook his head.

"You can't be sure you'll get away so easily," he said.

"Oh, what makes you think that?" she asked, amused again. "You expect I won't know these territories as thoroughly as I please, Kawakami?"

"I expect, rather, that you'd be amenable to discussing business instead of jumping for the kill right away," he said, raising an eyebrow. "I know you've been watching me for a while, hell knows just how far your reach goes. You know I didn't come alone either, much like you didn't. So… how about we have our perfectly normal business exchange, and if you think my idea is worthless, you let me know, and we'll go our separate ways without causing any deaths that might result in a massive clan war?"

"Hmm… wouldn't be massive. The Homura outnumber your clan by tenfold, at least," said Azula, with a sardonic grin. Sokka rolled his eyes but smiled.

"My point still stands. You don't want to cause more trouble for the Homura by killing me when I'm only here for business," he said, raising his hands.

"Indeed, the business of an alliance that doesn't appear to offer much in the way of benefits to the Homura clan," said Azula, haughtily. "Why do I need to ally with you, Sokka Kawakami?"

"You don't need to, that's the truth. Neither do we need to be allied with you," he conceded. "But the Kyoshi clan down south was faltering, and after striking an alliance with the Tsuchiya clan, they've both thrived and resurged as leading clans. I'm not saying the Homura need an alliance to stay solid in their position as the biggest clan in the nation… but surely you guys don't want the others to catch up to you, right?"

"Surely," Azula repeated, tapping her arm with a finger. "All that being said… the Homura clan doesn't quite need to associate with a lesser clan to rise in prominence. There's parts of Asia that outright don't know what the word "yakuza" stands for, but tremble in fear upon hearing the family name "Homura". There have been movies about us, documentaries, we have contacts that the rest of the clans wish they could attain… and you think your clan would be our most favorable alliance possible? Why?"

"I suppose the geopolitical angle doesn't interest you much?" Sokka said. "Having freedom to go in and out of Akashi… I'd argue, of course, that the terms of the alliance should make it so we retain jurisdiction in our cities and territories, but the other clan has freedom of passage and occasional operations – with previously granted permission – in the area. We could even settle on a fee of a sort, a percentage of money gained from operations that we'd offer you, you could do the same for us…"

"Sounds counterproductive," said Azula. Sokka chuckled.

"Right, right, it's easier to kill off the Kawakami, isn't it? But see, there is one thing our clan can offer yours, one thing you really could use…" he smirked, stepping closer to her. "Something you have been missing for, well, I don't know how many years? Something I guess you guys disregarded as irrelevant, going by how your people are always dressed in fancy, full-body suits, these days…"

"What… are you getting at?" Azula said, despite her better sense already suspected what his point would be. Sokka smirked.

"You don't have a proper tebori artist anymore, do you?" he said. She couldn't hide the irritation that crossed her face. "Haven't had one for a very long time. Your people? If they have any tattoos, it's some ridiculous-looking little flame, probably made with western technique…"

"The fools who have tattooed themselves with that thing have been reprimanded, and others discouraged from following their example," Azula snapped. Sokka's grin only gained further mischief. "That being said, how exactly does the Kawakami clan wind up obtaining a rare, tebori artist where the Homura clan couldn't find any to replace the old master we lost about twenty years ago?"

"Why… we have our secrets, you have yours," Sokka shrugged. Azula scoffed.

"I question your words. Perhaps you don't have one at all, and you're pulling my hair," she said. Sokka snorted.

"Alright… this won't look good, but please, don't order your men to shoot me for it," he said, raising his hands defensively… before pulling open his jacket.

The t-shirt he wore underneath it wrapped around his muscular body, despite it wasn't meant to be tight. His chest appeared large, even while hidden beneath another layer of fabric… and his arms were rather thick, with tense muscles that shifted in an entrancing way as Sokka set down his jacket and made to remove his t-shirt next.

Azula's jaw threatened to drop, but she ensured not to show how badly this particular, shameless display of her opponent was affecting her. Oh, that body… the more he exposed it, the more she feared she'd make a fool of herself, jumping to devour him in the eyes of all the sharpshooters they both had brought with them to this park. Ugh, she was a fool for wishing she had taken no precautions, but the gradually exposed body before her, each tense muscle, each ridge of his abs and pectorals, were tugging through all her many layers of powerful self-control, urging her to act on her impulses for once instead of holding back for appearances' sake…

She had forgotten the purpose of his disrobing once the t-shirt was fully removed, but he hadn't: he gestured at the shapes over his shoulders, spreading into his bare chest.

"You can tell, can't you? They're actual tebori," he said. "I applied these myself."

"You… what?" Azula gasped, staring at him in genuine astonishment. Sokka grinned.

"Let it be known that I have the self-control and pain-threshold to pull off art on my own body without mucking it up," he smirked. "I've been tattooing many of the Kawakami ever since my master decided I was ready. Most prefer koi tattoos in our clan, but I… I liked the wolf. It's fierce, and it protects the pack. I like to think of myself as one, obnoxious as it sounds…"

Well, a man with that body had every right to be as obnoxious as he pleased, as far as Azula was concerned. Twin wolves stood at each of his shoulders, their jaws open threateningly, claws and fangs beared, and they lunged downwards into Sokka's pectorals, right above his nipples. It wasn't all though: waves appeared to spread across underneath the wolves, across his abdomen, perhaps even over his back…

"And you expect me to think… you tattooed your own back?" she asked, skeptical. Sokka chuckled.

"Yeah, that one I couldn't do myself. My old master actually started the back tattoo for me," Sokka explained, turning around and gesturing at the design: Azula nearly gasped, for the pattern of the sea merged into yet another wolf shape, one that appeared ready to pounce, right across his spine. "I told him what I had in mind, he started from there, told me I'd only be allowed to start tattooing my clansmen if I succeeded at tattooing myself. And I did."

"You… did. I suppose. Though… I don't know if I believe you yet," said Azula, raising her eyebrows. "You claim you can do tebori, but you alone have tattooed all the Kawakami? Just one man wouldn't suffice for our clan."

"I'm not the only one, no," Sokka smiled. "Though I'm one of the best, for sure. My master might agree to tattoo a few of your people, as long as you all ask nicely. There's about three more of his apprentices within our ranks, the third is still pretty green but the others are good enough. Of course, it'll take a while… but your clan can go right back to bearing amazing tattoos that will instill fear in the hearts of the enemy, eh? Instead of inspiring laughter, like that silly flame does…"

"Be that as it may, we haven't needed tattoos for that purpose for a while" Azula said… though her tone suggested she saw actual value in this proposal, if nothing else.

"Not like they'd hurt, eh? Well, figuratively anyway," said Sokka, smiling as he pulled his shirt on again, and while Azula didn't quite want to stop watching his bare body, even the visual of him dressing up proved a most stimulating. "It's a big tradition for yakuza, always has been. Surely your dad will want to hear of this offer, at least? If he says no, fine, I'll accept my defeat. If he says yes…"

"He won't say either no or yes until I've decided your offer and your apparent skills are trustworthy," Azula declared, stubbornly. Sokka blinked blankly. "By which I mean… if you agree to tattoo one member of our clan as an example of what you can do, and you prove successful, I'll discuss your alliance proposal and possibilities with my father. If I can interest him in this arrangement, you may meet directly with him – though I suppose it'd be more agreeable if your father were the one to meet him and settle the alliance. Still… first of all, I'll have to be sure you're not pulling our hair."

"Heh. Seems fair," Sokka nodded. "Alright, then. I guess I'll give you the location of my parlor, in a show of good faith… send your clan member tomorrow? If it's a full-body tattoo, though, this could take a while."

"How long is 'a while'?" Azula asked, raising her eyebrows. "Pardon my ignorance, but I haven't really had to worry about the logistics of tebori tattoos for as long as I've been working actively in the Homura clan."

"Well, depends on the difficulty. But sessions could even span months, if it's too tricky," Sokka admitted. Azula scowled.

"How do you plan on tattooing all our people if it takes months?" she asked.

"It doesn't always take that long, but I'd think you'd know better than to expect this for all your people?" Sokka laughed. "I'd think the bigger fish are the ones who ought to have the tebori, if they want them, of course. You could even make it a matter of a reward: if they do their jobs well, they'll be eligible for tattoos with us. See?"

"I see," said Azula, raising her eyebrows. "Well, then… I'll contact you for the address tomorrow."

"I guess you can get my number, just like that?" Sokka asked, amused.

"Buy yourself a burner phone, if you don't trust me," she said, smiling too. "There's a store nearby, you can find one there. I'll get the number out of the owner, and contact you through a burner of my own."

"Seems fair," Sokka smiled. "Well, then… we're in temporary business, for now?"

"Making it a permanent deal shall hinge on your skills, above all else," Azula raised her head haughtily. "For the time being, I'll expect your people to stay in their lane, and I'll make sure mine stay in ours, without causing any problems for either clan until this matter of a potential alliance is either confirmed or completely dismissed."

"Seems a great idea to me," Sokka said, nodding.

"Good to know you agree to these terms," Azula replied. "Continue this way, and your pet project might have a better chance at succeeding. Anyway, feel free to take your leave first."

"As you'd have it," he said.

She didn't ignore that he started walking backwards… while allowing his eyes to take in her body shape in a rather careless, lecherous manner. Her blood burned underneath her skin… and not quite because of outrage. She knew those looks… she hoped he knew them too, for she had been casting them in his direction from the moment she had seen him. Was he merely taking her in as best he could right now, in fear they might never meet again? If so…

When he turned, her eyes strayed towards his rear, settling there, admiring their perfect curves until the shroud of darkness hid his whole body away from her own, lascivious gaze. Azula smiled, despite herself, once he was gone, and once she suspected the many weapons aimed towards the location of their conversation had been withdrawn and put aside. His business proposal had been slightly more interesting than she had expected, and suddenly she wasn't quite so determined to take down the Kawakami completely as she had been before… but she would test his resolve further soon. Just how far was he willing to go to score this alliance with the Homura clan…?

"You truly believe this is worth pursuing?" Ozai asked, frowning, once Azula met with him in private on the next morning. "An alliance, with the Kawakami clan?"

"For the sake of the tebori, it may be," said Azula, breathing out slowly. "I understand your reluctance, but it is true that allying with a clan, however lesser it may be, could bring advantages in the long run. We could, presumably, manipulate the Kawakami freely if this alliance is arranged. They'll expect to gain a rise in power, by joining forces with us…"

"Not knowing we're the ones assimilating them, without their awareness?" Ozai finished. Azula shrugged.

"It's a possibility. Though Hakoda Kawakami might be wiser than we expected," Azula conceded. "He might not make it easy for the alliance to be corrupted for our benefit, but it's probably safer to have the Kawakami close by if we intend to ensure their growth doesn't go out of control after the events following the earthquake."

"It's a dangerous game… and unfortunately, we cannot simply poach the tebori artist from them, considering it's the heir," said Ozai, rolling his eyes. "The others might be fair game, but I question he would ever betray his people."

"He likened himself with a wolf," Azula said, hoping the blood wouldn't rush to her cheeks as she remembered the impossibly alluring tattoos decorating that man's powerful body. "Said he protected his pack. So… yes, corrupting him may not be easy."

"You might as well try," Ozai said. "Every man has a price, as far as I'm aware. If we can plant discord within their ranks, it'll serve for our benefit too. So… perhaps the alliance isn't the worst idea. Though you'll have to assess if the risks outweigh the possible benefits, Azula: in this case, we've lived fine without tattoos for the last years. If the potential improvements for our circumstances aren't considerable, I wouldn't go forth with this venture."

"I agree, completely," Azula said, nodding curtly. "I shall let you know what the test's results are."

"Very well," Ozai nodded, dismissing Azula.

Her next step was simple enough to perform, once she returned to her office: she searched through her database quickly, tracking down the cellphone store where Sokka had bought his burner. After a quick call, she had the number, and had ordered a phone of her own. It might be awfully inconvenient, she couldn't deny it, having a single phone to communicate with a single person… but once the messenger she sent to retrieve the package had returned with her new device, her heart was racing with excitement.

Sokka didn't think it was a good idea to sit at his parlor all day, waiting for a message to arrive, and yet that was exactly what he did. Business was slow now – who would prioritize getting a tattoo after the earthquake's devastation, really? – but he left the open sign on the door, despite knowing he'd have to turn it around as soon as Azula's chosen Homura arrived. Sokka had gone through his designs carefully, making sure to evoke the images he'd need to keep in mind, the technique, the patience… he was ready. He could do this, especially when the rise of his clan might as well depend on his performance now.

The phone rang with its new, custom beat – he had been bored enough to scour through the libraries of the device until he found one that suited him. He opened the message quickly, and smiled upon reading Azula's curt, blunt message: Send the address now.

He decided to save the number immediately, though he hesitated at which name to give the contact. Obviously, using her real name was beside the question… he smirked upon jotting down 'My Flame', and he wondered if she'd approve of it. He thought she'd liked what she'd seen yesterday… perhaps he should try to flirt some more and see if that would get them somewhere. If the alliance failed, well… sleeping with the enemy could make this whole ordeal worthwhile, regardless.

He answered the message just as directly, hoping to appear professional despite his previous, shameless attitude while picking her contact name. He wondered, briefly, if she had given him a nickname of her own… would it be an embarrassing one? Or also a teasing, flirty one? He'd love it if it were the latter…

After around fifteen minutes, the sound of a motorbike alerted him that someone was approaching. The area had been quite silent lately, but it wouldn't stay that way forever. Still, it was an extra layer of privacy that would enable him to tattoo a Homura without worrying about prying eyes, misunderstandings or rushed judgments…

The bike stopped right at before the parlor, and the rider climbed off. Sokka could see the person's silhouette through the darkened glass panels of his parlor… and he frowned lightly upon noticing the outfit wrapped around an undoubtably female body appeared to be of leather. Much like Azula's chosen attire from the previous night.

His heart nearly stopped before she pushed the door open while removing the bike's helmet: his jaw dropped, for she had come alone. She hadn't brought anyone. Which meant…

"W-wait…" he chortled, jumping off the chair he'd been sitting at. Azula slid a hand over her hair, taming it again after the previous bike ride.

"Do you have other customers? Why do I have to wait?" she asked, with a light grin.

He couldn't seem to snap out of his disbelieving amazement. He swallowed hard and stood up straight, puzzled, utterly confused… here he had been, pondering how to coax her into a new date, and she had come to him of her own volition?

"I… I'm a bit surprised, is all. You want me to tattoo you?" he asked.

"Is it the Kawakami don't tattoo their women?" Azula asked. Sokka swallowed.

"The Kawakami do a lot of things different from the Homura. I mean… my mom and my sister are part of the group, but they're not really part of the operations? Not the big ones? If that makes sense, though I've tattooed my sister's arms because she asked a few months ago… b-but that's not it!" Sokka said, looking at her with uncertainty. "You're sure you want to do this? I thought you didn't trust me."

"And why would I trust you to tattoo one of my men without making sure, personally, that you can handle the job?" Azula smirked, stepping closer. "Are you afraid of something?"

"I… no, not at all. Just… I really expected to tattoo a guy," Sokka smiled, biting his lip. "Not complaining, though, not complaining. But… well, you do realize, like I told you, this will be a long process, depending on what you want? You might have to come back a few times to get the whole thing finished, unless you wanted something small…?"

"Do I look like someone who would have a small venture in mind?" Azula asked, amused. Sokka swallowed hard but grinned. "I have an idea in mind, yes: a dragon, naturally. In a field of flames."

"Oh. Heh, well, that can be done, for sure," Sokka said, nodding positively. "How big? A sleeve, or…?"

"Hmm…" Azula tapped her chin, in deep thought as Sokka stepped towards the door: he spun the "Open" sign upon itself, and Azula smirked for it. She had him for herself now, then… all his attention would be on her body. Whatever the result might be, she couldn't quite help but rejoice in that awareness. "I think I want something quite dynamic, actually."

"Just how dynamic?" Sokka asked, curious, as he turned towards her again.

"I want this dragon across my back… shifting across it, as it may?" Azula said. Sokka raised his eyebrows appreciatively as he made his way to his desk.

"Let's see…" he said, quickly drawing the outline of a female body on a free sheet of paper.

Azula watched with curiosity as he jotted down lines expertly. She rested her body weight against the desk, and Sokka continued to sketch while keenly aware of her closeness, as well as her gaze upon him.

"How's this?" he asked. Azula hummed as she studied the design.

"Not enough, actually," she said. Sokka bit his lip. "Not that it's wrong, just… I'm looking for something slightly more complicated. Like… ah, how about if the dragon's tail starts at the base of my nake, but the body… wraps around mine? I mean, if it hugs my flank, then goes across my front…?"

"U-uh… wow," Sokka blinked blankly, but he attempted another sketch… this time of the front of her body. He hesitated at drawing her breasts, at which Azula smirked knowingly. "Well, um… sorry to be bold, but how big exactly are they?"

"Need that much information for a full design?" she asked. He grinned guiltily.

"Alright, let's just say… the dragon's body goes over your ribcage, on either side?" he said. "And below your breasts…?"

"Hmm. I guess tattooing them could be tricky," Azula reasoned, with a voice that attempted to convey an innocence she clearly lacked. Sokka bit his lip but smirked.

"I'll be blunt: I've never done that before," he laughed softly. "I figured it'd be more comfortable if it's just… around them? But you're the boss right now. You tell me."

"Hmm? So Kawakami women don't get tebori that often?" Azula asked, smirking.

"Not quite?" Sokka grinned awkwardly. "I'm not too popular yet anyways, I've only tattooed my sister with a few small designs, and… well, it is Japan, tattoos are usually frowned upon. Most my latest customers have been teenage nerds trying to look intimidating before starting college?"

"Such upstanding customers for the Kawakami heir," Azula said mockingly. Sokka snorted and laughed, his shoulders shaking with each chuckle as he lowered his head. Strangely bashful, and just so, incredibly charming…

"See why I want to tattoo your goons now?" he said. "Though… got to say, I'm not sure any of my next customers will be much to write home about after you."

"Intended to write about me, did you?" Azula smirked. "Would your family appreciate hearing about the outlandish challenges I keep forcing upon you?"

"Eh… my dad would laugh a lot," Sokka chuckled, as he continued to doodle across his new sketches. "Though you'd better be careful, eh? Don't be too impressive, or he'll start pondering other ways to establish an alliance between our clans…"

"Other ways? Such as?" Azula asked, deliberately playing dumb. Sokka stopped sketching, snorting before shooting her a meaningful stare. "What?"

"You're way too smart not to know what," he said, simply. She smirked.

"Can't say my father would agree with that notion," she said.

"Exactly. So… you know, better for us not to get any hopes up, right?" he said, with a nonchalant shrug as he returned to his design.

"Hopes? You'd actually hope for it? How ambitious of you…" Azula said, shaking her head reproachfully.

"Might not be a matter of ambition, Homura Princess…" he whispered. She shivered upon hearing him speak that nickname. "There's other reasons to marry someone besides social advancement…"

"Hmm? And what other reason could you possibly have to marry me?" she asked. Sokka smiled slowly and tapped his sketch.

"How's this one?" he asked.

Azula clicked her tongue disapprovingly, shooting him a long, meaningful, stare before turning to the paper.

"Cowardice doesn't befit you…" she said, though she froze upon glimpsing the new design: the dragon's body would slither across her collarbone and shoulders, dipping down the valley of her breasts, hugging the outline of the right before dipping down to her belly and rising again to hug the left before scurrying towards the back.

"I'm thinking… do you want claws?" he said. "Could be I could fit them… over here? Above your breasts…?"

Azula shivered at the suggestion, as he drew the lines to depict what he meant. Well, curses, she had thought he was evading the question, but he might have just intended to answer it with his artwork instead…

"It'll loop across your abdomen a couple more times, I think? And then it goes to the back," Sokka said, gesturing at the initial artwork. "Menacing snarling dragon, right? Any guy who gets you naked will think twice before doing anything out of bounds this way…"

"Sounds like a plan," Azula smirked. "You'll be the first victim of the dragon, if so, because you'll be drawing it. You'll have to tell me if it's truly that daunting."

"I'll make it as scary as I can," Sokka smiled. "So… is this good? Or do you want another attempt?"

"I… think I'd like to see the idea in a much more solid way before pushing through with this design," Azula said, biting her lip. "Do you make stencils? Or…"

"Not quite stencils, I usually draw an outline on the body," Sokka explained. "The initial outline, then I go forward with the inking of the outline, but… it's true it's probably better if you have an initial glimpse of what I've got in mind. You, uh… are comfortable with letting me doodle a mean dragon over your naked body?"

"Comfortable?" Azula repeated, raising her eyebrows. "Why… not quite. Not while we're in plain view of the street, despite those darkened glass panes of yours…"

"I wouldn't have worked with you up here," Sokka laughed, rising to his feet. "Come on. Step into my basement, why don't you?"

"You'd better not have a full regiment of nasty Kawakami goons down there, ready to eviscerate me…" Azula said, raising her head haughtily as she followed Sokka to the stairs.

He laughed again at her words as he opened the door that led to the basement, and she found she was growing quite fond of that sound… at least, her stirring lower belly was. Surely there wouldn't be a regiment of Kawakami down there, but she certainly hoped the only Kawakami within the area would be willing to do something other than just tattooing, once they were in private…

It wasn't every day she found herself so attracted by a man, let alone was it every day that she felt the urge to act upon it, let alone so boldly. Her plans for the design were a most deliberate, reckless attempt to seduce him… and she sure hoped it worked. So far, it looked like it would, but she couldn't take anything for granted…

The study downstairs was rather orderly, once Sokka flipped the light switch and revealed it before Azula's gaze. The shelves, the tattooing implements sitting in their right cases, the already-mixed inks, as well as the ingredients to mix new ones… all of it appeared angled towards the modern tattoo chair, out of place among so many traditional tools. Azula finally reached the last step, taking in the location in full, but her gaze inevitably fell upon the chair: leather, adjustable, hopefully comfortable and stable. Good.

"Alright, then… we won't be working with the proper needles yet. A painless process to begin with… then comes the true challenge," Sokka said, smiling at her. "So… mind disrobing for me, Homura Princess?"

That he dared wink at her should have been outrageous… but her whole body felt like melting chocolate because of it. Her heart skipped a beat most delightfully, and she smiled before loosening her jacket first. Sokka smiled at her, making his way to his shelves to collect the tools with which he'd start the sketches of the outline, but he dared glance at Azula again as she clasped the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head with one smooth movement: her pelvis tucked in lightly over the movement, her ribcage highlighted, as well as her abdomen's lean muscles. She got plenty of exercise, he realized, despite she kept such tight surveillance of the whole city… She was a true wonder, Sokka thought, snatching three different skin markers from his collection, and he didn't tear his eyes off her… not even when she tugged her belt loose and pushed down her trousers.

"W-woah…" he said, unable to hold back his smile. Azula blinked blankly in his direction. "Not that I don't appreciate those fine legs of yours… but I didn't sketch for anything in your lower body"

"You mentioned claws…" Azula said, casually. "I thought, curiously, that you probably could have the dragon's front paws over… here?"

She turned, deliberately squeezing her ass cheeks together while trailing her hands suggestively over them. Sokka's eyes damn near bulged, and he swallowed dryly as Azula gazed at him inquisitively.

"Y-you… have amazing ideas," he finally decided. Azula's knowing grin spread widely over her face.

"Thought you might appreciate that one," she said, reaching up her back to tug loose her bra.

Sokka damn near cursed himself as he tore his gaze away from her back: fool. He couldn't just tell her to turn so he could see her better. No matter if the Homura Princess had come here for many purposes beyond just getting a tattoo, he couldn't succumb to such stupid impulses. He had to play by her rules, and even if he did, he might wind up landing himself in a world of trouble. If he dared touch her, even if with her consent, she could easily turn things around and use that to her advantage to destroy the alliance before it was even formed… ugh, he kind of wanted to do it despite that risk, but he knew he needed to be cautious, to think things through. And wanting to see her breasts wasn't at all the cautious way to proceed…

But he'd see them anyway, he knew, as he heard her walking towards the chair. She snapped her tongue somewhat dismissively, and Sokka released a breath before turning to find her back to him again… she was fully naked now. No underwear, no socks, nothing. Only her ponytail remained in place, though after she had disrobed, it appeared to be falling loose: she noticed, and undid it quickly. Her hair fell in an elegant curtain across the back he'd soon tattoo, just before she pulled it together again and redid the ponytail. With her arms raised, he could see the outline of her breasts and… dammit! He had to stop!

Though it was already far too late to reel back the erection that had been growing inevitably, ever since she had first climbed off that bike. It wasn't like she was the first woman he'd seen driving one, but curses, she was sensual even in that sense. It was as though everything he had ever found desirable in a woman had been thrown together in one, extraordinary package, and now she was naked before him. Naked, and flaunting her body, as per the light slant of her hips…

"How many sweaty, disgusting fools have climbed atop this chair?" Azula asked, glancing at him over her shoulder once she had finished composing her ponytail.

"N-not that many…" Sokka said, swallowing hard. "But… I clean it every time! I do! Want me to clean it again? Because I can do it, if you're uncomfortable…"

"You'd better do it. I am uncomfortable," Azula smirked, stepping away from the chair… and again, deliberately doing so by keeping her back towards him. Sokka chewed on his cheeks as he tried to control himself: she really was going to drive him mad, at this rate.

He found his cleaning supplies, the strongest of them, and got to work. Azula was enjoying a thorough inspection of his wares in the mean time, walking barefooted – if she was so concerned with hygiene, it seemed odd she would do that when she, for one thing, didn't even need to loosen up her shoes for a tattoo that would only reach her rear… – as she waited for him to finish cleaning the chair from any lingering residues of any kind.

"Alright… I think you can do it now," Sokka smiled, climbing off the chair as he shifted the adjustable settings: it became a perfect bed, better for their purposes, he hoped.

Of course, Azula would only climb it once he was putting away his cleaning implements, and he didn't even let his damn groin protest over that: he focused on his task, giving Azula enough time to relax on the bed… before turning towards her, collecting his markers again.

"You'll have to forgive me, Princess Homura… but you'll need to turn over many times while we do this," he said, his professional voice blatantly insincere.

"Oh, dear. I guess I shall have no choice," Azula said, dramatically. He smirked.

"Shall we, then?" he said, pulling his own chair close so he could start the design.

Azula nodded awkwardly, facedown as she was.

"Go ahead," she whispered, and Sokka raised his first marker.

She had decided the tail should begin at her nape, so he began there: he'd go slowly, gradually, sketching lines of the dragon's contour and body until he reached the head, which would occupy her middle-to-lower back, much like his own tattooed wolf did – he couldn't help but think she hoped to mirror his design with her own, and it was quite a flattering gesture. He dragged the marker along expertly for the first curves of the dragon's shape, tracing it all the way until it reached Azula's right armpit, and then he returned to the beginning, depicting the spikes that should accompany the dragon's body. Then he returned one more time, to draw each scale perfectly carefully, and wherever it should be visible, the dragon's underbelly, with another marker.

And with that, it was time for her to turn around. Sokka released a breath before speaking his thoughts:

"I'll be going over the front now."

"Ah… right," Azula said, smiling as she obeyed, impossibly slowly.

Sokka swallowed dryly, and she could see his Adam's apple bobbing as he did, a rather masculine, sensual gesture she was entranced by… but she supposed he was far more taken with her own, fully bare body, once she was lying on her back, arms raised so he could patch the dragon outline with the new share of art he'd decorate her body with.

"Is this okay?" she asked, innocently. Sokka jumped, as though he had been about to fall off his chair… his eyes, of course, most unprofessionally focused on her bare breasts. "Or would you rather I take up some other position?"

"N-no, no, this is… this is good," he said, with a nervous grin, as he raised his marker again. Azula, though, clicked her tongue teasingly.

"You sure? You look… uncomfortable," she said. He snorted and laughed, touching her skin with the marker's tip again.

"I… am not uncomfortable. Not in a bad sense anyway," he said. "If anything… I'm probably enjoying the view way more than any tattoo artist has any right to. Excuse me for that, if you would, Princess Homura…"

"Should I truly excuse you… Prince Kawakami?" she teased him back. He laughed, though he continued to drag the marker over her collarbone.

Azula smiled, inevitably, delighted by his reactions… by his unwillingness to back down, too. He rose up to every challenge, and seemed quite willing to acknowledge the wild thoughts that were coursing through his mind. She wondered just how long it'd take before he bit the bait… she hoped he'd do it soon, too. She wasn't sure it was advisable for anyone to have wild sex after taking several needles to the skin at a rapid pace, anyway.

Because, yes, they were going to have wild sex, one way or another. She had no intentions of leaving this parlor today without a taste of the man she was being touched and intimately studied by.

He dragged her arms down when he needed them in another position, and then doodled a quick loop over her arm… only to ask her to turn again. Azula sighed but relented, feeling him dragging the marker over her back, relaxing under that soft, wet, localized sensation… and again, she had to turn, once he was drawing the dragon's body over her other arm. Azula complied, lying on her side now, watching him intently while not subtly squeezing her breasts together in this position. His eyes traveled there on occasion, and his cheeks would heat up whenever they did: she smiled each time, but he only continued to work… until it was time for the front again, and he asked her to lie down as he brought the dragon's body down through the valley between her breasts.

"I… may need to touch them," he said. Azula gasped in feigned astonishment, and he smirked. "Just thought I'd warn you, if you needed me to…"

"Oh, my. A man, touching my chest… unfathomable," she said, teasingly. Sokka laughed and shook his head as he started on the first curve that would hug the outline of Azula's breast.

She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation, but more than that, the knowledge that he was absolutely looking forward to touching her. She waited, impatiently, her heart drumming in her chest…

And then it happened: fingers, catching her breast's underside, raising it gently as the marker trailed below it. She wasn't imagining the way those fingers felt her skin, certainly… he was fondling her lightly, and she was starting to think she'd leave quite the wet spot on his adjustable chair after today. This simply couldn't be so exciting…

"How's it feel?" he asked, teasingly. Azula hummed.

"Wet… and cold," she replied. Sokka snorted.

"The marker?" he asked.

"What else would you have meant to ask me about?" she said, closing her eyes carelessly.

He bit back another laugh: but curses, she was beautiful. Her eyelashes, the perfect makeup applied across them, her straight nose, her full lips, her feminine, yet strong chin… He damn near distracted himself with the urge of covering her with kisses, rather than with a tattoo's initial design. He had to find a more productive way to do this, he thought to himself, and yet…

She had to turn again, as the dragon's body would loop around her back, and then return to her front. Sokka erased the unnecessary portions by dabbing alcohol on a cotton ball and wiping off the marker's previous lines. The cold liquid made Azula shiver… or she took advantage of it to deliberately shift sensually against the chair, Sokka didn't know which it was. She had hiked up her rear unnecessarily this time, and his eyes kept escaping southwards to gaze at those perfectly circular mounds, barely resisting the urge to fondle them…

But he could lightly fondle her next breast now, and so he did, once she turned again. Azula was the picture of helplessness, arms raised over her head, eyes closed, soft purrs slipping from her throat…

Oh. Oh hell, she was moments away from moaning, and he sure as heck wanted to hear that.

In a most bold, careless manner, he brushed her nipple with his thumb: Azula moaned indeed, and Sokka's pulsating erection begged for him to cut it out. If he was going to do filthy things to her, he'd better stop playing around already… but no, he couldn't. He had to finish this. The claws now, the claws…

"I'm going to have to touch them again…" he said. She bit her lip.

"M-must you…?" she asked, her voice suggestive and playful. He smiled.

"The claws will be right here… I need a proper view of the skin," he said, tapping her upper breast. Azula hummed.

"That high…?" she asked. "I thought it'd be… more over here?"

She led his fingers lower… and they brushed her nipple again. Another moan, and she opened her eyes to gaze at him wantonly as he smiled knowingly.

"It… might not be anatomically correct," he said. She bit her lip.

"What a conundrum, isn't it?" she whispered.

"And it… could hurt," he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Azula smiled.

"You think a Homura doesn't know how to handle pain?" she asked. "We literally burn our bodies to prove our worth, when need be…"

"You haven't burned yours, I see," Sokka whispered, carelessly dragging his hand down her flank. Azula moaned again. "Unless… it's somewhere else?"

"I thought you'd have seen me… completely by now," Azula smiled, moaning suggestively again once his hand trailed over her thigh.

"Not completely, I admit…" Sokka whispered, leaning closer to her… just as his fingers slipped between her legs.

Azula's moan was no longer intentionally erotic: she gasped and clenched up, and Sokka hummed as his fingers dipped into her hot wetness. Her chest started to heave, and he smirked for it, guiding his marker over the rising and falling breasts to decorate them with the outline of the dragon's claws.

"Hmm… doesn't feel burned, no. If anything… quite the opposite," he smiled. Azula whimpered, lightly thrusting her body towards him. "Hmm? Oh, is this too invasive?"

"Y-yes… it is…" she smiled, closing her eyes as she thrusted again. "That's… Homura territory, you shameless Kawakami…"

"Oh, no… I've made a terrible mistake, haven't I?" he said, smirking as he finished the details of the first claw, and moved to mark the second one. "I suppose I'll have to do extra work here now, won't I? Otherwise, you'll never forgive my transgression… and there'll be no alliance."

"That's… that's right," Azula moaned: his fingers were dabbing into her opening, the thumb rubbing her clit in the sweetest manner. "Do good… and… and you'll be free to enter Homura territory at will…"

"Hmm… sounds like the best deal ever," Sokka whispered, finishing the fourth claw, and moving to depicting scales now – it was, admittedly, quite difficult to focus on the art when most his body was focusing on his hand's actions upon Azula's lower body instead.

"T-then… do right by me… oh, do right by me, Sokka…" she moaned, thrusting harder, her chest still heaving terribly sensually: he wanted to see those breasts bouncing as she rode his shaft, they were more than large enough for that…

Oh, he was being so unprofessional, his master would have his hide if only he knew… and yet the woman underneath him was hotter than her last name, than everything her fire clan stood for. He couldn't be above his damn base desires… not when they were hidden away from the world in this basement, safely alone, free to be intimate, to desecrate his sacred working place… he wanted to. He absolutely wanted to.

"Alright… alright, then," he said, smirking as his face hovered right above hers.

Azula's lips parted, and she seemed to be about to catch his lips with her own… but he pulled away, to her chagrin. Where the hell did he think he was going…?

She got the answer upon sensing a sudden, wet, warm pressure around her nipple: his breath brushed against it just before he sucked for the first time, and Azula didn't hold back her loud cries of passion. Oh, he was the worst, the absolute worst, and she just loved it. She was perfectly used to seducing men whenever she felt like it, to being the object of someone's desire, for she had been that for many of her father's henchmen over the years… but she always had the urge to enforce her authority, her strength, her control and superiority. This time… oh, this time she didn't even want to. Not with a man who was fingering her most recklessly, sucking on her breast persistently before switching to the other.

"T-the… t-the marker's ink won't… c-come off, will it…?" Azula moaned, as Sokka's strong body loomed closer to hers.

"No… and if it does, I'll do it again," he smiled, speaking between loud suctions of her nipple. He was a shameless bastard, truly… and she wanted more of that. So much more of that…

"Will you… wind up devouring my breasts again… if that happens?" Azula asked.

"Would you like that…?" he moaned against her chest.

He was covering her breasts in light nibbling as he pointedly avoided the places he had traced with his marker. Oh, he would've loved to cover her chest with kisses, but at risk of intaking chemicals he shouldn't, he'd have to hold back until her full set was done… ah, by then, once she was fully rested and recovered, she would be even more sensual than she already was, with her soul's dragon bearing its fangs, threatening any and all unwanted menaces… but he had wolves that could fight the dragon, just as well. They would clash and collide, and sleep together as many times as she allowed it… he sure hoped it'd be about a thousand times. Just this much was as exciting as could be…

"Yes… yes I would, I… don't stop… don't stop…" Azula moaned, thrusting lightly against his hand. "Ah! D-don't, please, don't…!"

Her urgency compelled him to drill into her with his fingers, going harder than before: his other hand held her wrists, which she had helpfully raised over her head. She was completely at his mercy, and the powerlessness appeared to turn her on so badly she couldn't stand it. With a few more powerful thrusts of his hand, and that thumb ever prodding and exploring her sensitive clit, Azula came undone with loud cries. Sokka smirked as he returned to kissing and sucking her nipple, chuckling maliciously as he continued driving into her, harder, rougher, without any restraint. Azula trembled on the chair, her voice failing her when the second peak arrived soon after the first, tearing through her violently, so much her body seemed to shatter… and yet it didn't. And perhaps because it didn't, her wicked lover had decided to keep going, bringing her to the brink one more time as she screamed, completely losing control while writhing under his hand.

Sokka slowed at the third peak, laughing deviously as his lips hovered over her left breast. She was sweating now, and even that was exciting as hell. Nothing about her could be unappealing, as far as he could tell…

He raised his head slowly, his mischievous smirk found by her misty gaze as she shivered violently still, her legs spread, her lips parted.

"Y-you… y-you just…" she said, and he raised an eyebrow cockily.

"Want me to do that again?" he asked. "Got a few more tricks up my sleeve, but if you want more…"

"You're… mad," she said, furthering his amusement. "Doing this… to your tattoo customer…"

"It's a first for me, if you really want to know," he chuckled. "Like I said… most my customers aren't exactly my type."

"And I am?" Azula smiled, despite the heat of the situation was still overwhelming for her.

"You? I think you've completely torn down every standard I thought I had… and rewritten them all on your own," Sokka whispered, rising until his face was level with hers. "If this makes our alliance impossible… well, woops. I'll have to tell my dad I mucked it up. But damn, I… I really want to have sex with you."

"Y-you… you perverted man," Azula smiled, closing her eyes in obvious delight. Sokka snickered.

"Don't like perverts much, do you…?" he asked, prodding her nose with his own.

"Not usually, no," she said. "But… you're on a league of your own, looks like."

"I'm worse than the others?" Sokka smirked.

"Yeah… because you're good at this, they aren't," Azula smiled. Sokka laughed, pressing his brow to hers just before diving for a kiss…

But her hand darted to his chest and clasped it hard, just as his upper lip touched hers, and she forced him to climb the chair by flipping them around: it was him below her suddenly, and she was the one above, chest still heaving, face still flushed, hair falling out of that ponytail again… but this time she didn't seem to mind that much.

"Az-…" he said, but her fingers landed on his lips.

"I… will return the favor," she smiled, dragging her fingers down to his shirt – he was wearing a perfectly casual outfit today, though the long sleeves prevented her from seeing the beautiful tattoos he sported over his arms.

She dragged herself down his body, pushing his shirt off in an urgent hurry – Sokka intended to help her tug it off but it was no use when Azula stopped once the shirt was at his neck's level: his chest and abdomen were fully exposed, and she needed to devour them at haste.

Sokka snorted, laughing as he struggled to pull off the shirt in the awkward situation she had left him in, with his elbows awkwardly stuck while only his lower jaw had slid under the shirt's neck.

"You… you're into bondage, are you?" he laughed. Azula, busy lavishing his strong chest with long, sucking kisses, only moaned in response. "Oh, hell, that's good…"

Her hands didn't help him with his upper body's struggle: instead they were undoing his belt, shoving off his trousers forcefully, and as her teeth nibbled teasingly down his defined abs – they were just as delightful as she had thought yesterday, damn him – she continued to move south until she reached his underwear-clad groin. Sokka gasped when her lips pressed a kiss over the fabric at first, and he groaned once she cupped his testicles with one hand, the other massaging his manhood while her lips continued to teasingly unravel his full girth: she wore lipstick, didn't she? She was going to stain his underwear with it? Oh, that should be a completely ridiculous thought and yet his very hard cock seemed more erect because of it.

"Y-you sure love… to tease a man," Sokka growled, finally tossing his shirt aside, and Azula snickered as she tugged the hem of his boxers.

"Be… rough," Azula advised him. Sokka smirked. "Not to the point of killing me, of course, but… use my mouth as you please. Alright?"

"You don't know restraint of any sort, do you…?" he asked, and Azula's smile reflected his own.

"We're yakuza, aren't we? We don't play nice and sweet," she said, teasingly, as she tugged the garment down, enough to expose his large erection. She licked her lips. "My, my, someone's enjoying himself…"

"Mind you… this is the best tattoo session I've ever had, so yes, I am," Sokka chuckled. Azula smirked and winked at him.

"It's about to get better," she said.

She leaned down, engulfing his cock with her mouth in one quick motion: Sokka cried out, throwing his head back against the cushioned chair's headrest, for Azula had taken him in deeply enough for his tip to press against the roof of her mouth. She didn't ease up in the least, bobbing her head back and forth while seeking his hand… placing it on her hair. She had asked for it rough, hadn't she? Sokka gritted his teeth and hoped she wouldn't change her mind.

His fingers dug into her hair as he started thrusting upwards: to his surprise, his thrusting compelled her to moan, in time with his own groans: one of her hands toyed with his ball sack, the other snaked upwards, touching all those strong, tense muscles that had charmed her since that day in the park. She wanted him to break her if he wished, to show her just how strong he was, how much pleasure he could provide a woman… and he sure had showed her plenty before, but she was greedy enough to want more. She sucked him eagerly, thoroughly, basking in every perfect ridge of his body, whether related to his pulsating manhood or his strong abs… and then he grew more savage, thrusting harder, faster, and she focused exclusively on the cock inside her mouth, doing her best not to choke, to continue breathing through her mouth, to enjoy his powerful thrusting as his hands messed her hair and kept her in place…

"I'm… I'm close… I'm close, hell, I'm gonna…!" he gasped, thrusting harder, more urgently: Azula helped by sucking in a quick, violent rhythm, and suddenly a hot liquid sprayed the back of her throat.

Oh, it tasted terribly and yet she relished in receiving it. She laughed as she sucked some more, aiding the still-thrusting Sokka to find his ultimate release, and that he did: he soon flopped on the chair, breathing heavily, his arms falling to the side as his eyes rolled closed.

"You… are something else, Princess Homura…" he whispered.

"Hmm, you are wild when you want to be… I like that, Prince Kawakami," Azula announced, smirking as she pressed soft kisses to the side of his manhood. Sokka chuckled and sighed in bliss, relishing in the continuous oral pleasure she offered him.

"I… want to return the favor too," he said, smiling. "I bet you taste amazing…"

"Hmm, you gross pervert… wanting to taste and smell my privates, what has the world come to?" she said, before taking a deep breath and licking his flaccid cock thoroughly, enough for it to twitch gently as she smirked. "Oh, wait a second…"

Sokka laughed, sitting up to reach for her and tug her towards him. Azula relented despite herself, sighing upon being taken away from the most delightful cock she had ever been acquainted with. His hands fell right to her rear, cupping each cheek, and Azula hummed before grinding her bare body against his.

"Want something?" she asked, casually.

"You," he said, and his hand reached up to fist her hair before he pressed a powerful, open-mouthed kiss to her lips.

Azula moaned, surrendering to the kiss quickly: his invasive tongue danced and twirled around hers, and her heart raced faster and faster as it did. It felt so good to kiss him, just as good as she had hoped it would, as she allowed him to claim her thoroughly for himself… and no doubt, it had to feel good for him too, considering he couldn't seem to stop – he only let her catch her breath for a second before nibbling on her lower lip, or trailing his tongue across her mouth, a smooth battering ram demanding access it was granted instantly: she really liked this overwhelming feeling, as his hands fondled her every curve, at first her ass, slowly her waist, then her breasts again…

"I'm going to eat you," he whispered. She moaned against his lips.

"Thought you already were…" she said. Sokka snickered before slipping off the chair, only to flip their positions anew.

It was he who sat at the edge of the chair now, balancing himself skillfully while Azula, boldly, knowingly and shamelessly, wrapped her legs around his neck and urged him to dive into her perfectly waxed core: with the same skill as with his hands before, Sokka toyed with her clit and unraveled, quite quickly, the places she needed his touch most in, by the urgency of her moans, to the point of near becoming screams. She wouldn't stop urging him onwards, spurring him to continue, whispering many surprisingly dirty phrases in the process. Sokka couldn't contain occasional laughs upon hearing those, and when he gazed up to look at his delightful lover, she'd meet his eyes just the same, her lips parted as though waiting for his to claim them anew…

Oh, he was in real trouble if he kept on in this path. No doubt he wasn't supposed to be having sex with Ozai Homura's prized golden daughter… but more than that, he had a feeling he wouldn't have enough with a single outing. And damn, he hoped neither would she.

He needed to make sure she wouldn't have enough, of course: and as her not-so-dormant excitement rose anew, while Sokka's tongue traveled mischievously across her wet folds, a new peak neared and Azula had half a mind to give herself to it completely…

"Y-you should… ah – you should come here, and… and go for it. S-Sokka… Sokka…"

Ah, she wanted him to go inside her already? He was hard enough to try… but he wanted her to ask again. He wanted her to beg, for some twisted, ridiculous reason…

"Please…? Sokka, I can't hold it… I-I'm going to…!" she said: the words surprised him, for he hadn't expected she'd be so close.

But as irresponsible as it might be to disregard her prior request, he refused to let her lose a perfectly good orgasm if he eased up now. So he didn't slow down, and instead devoured her even more ravenously… and he was rewarded by an onslaught of sex juices that he could develop an addiction for, from that day forward. He groaned happily, caressing her thighs erotically, and Azula whimpered in a sensual way as she flopped, helpless, on the chair.

"You… you kept going… when I told you to fuck me…" she said. He had still been face-first up her core, but he pulled away to glance at her somewhat apologetically.

"I wanted to tease you for a bit," he admitted. "B-but I just didn't think you were that close. When I realized you were, well… I didn't want your orgasm to be unfulfilling."

"You…" Azula whispered… and then a smile spread over her face. "You're good. Better than good."

"You think?" he smiled awkwardly.

"What kind of man… doesn't jump at the chance of putting his cock inside me as soon as I offer the chance?" Azula laughed. "But you… you'd rather make sure I have all the pleasure I can have. Do you realize what a rarity you are…?"

"Eh, I did suspect I was one of a kind," Sokka smirked, winking at Azula before leaning close to kiss her abdomen. "Glad I didn't fuck up, I thought I might have…"

"You were amazing," Azula decided, releasing him from her grip.

"You're even more amazing," he whispered as he kissed his way up to her collarbone, avoiding the lines his marker had trailed over her body. Azula moaned and caressed his back.

"How do you want… to do this?" she asked.

"Four orgasms… and you still want more," Sokka smirked. "I like you. A lot."

"I like you too. That's why I want more," Azula smiled. "Well? Any special requests…?"

"Ride me," he asked, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. Azula groaned and kissed him harder, urging him to switch with her again on the chair.

"You want me to like you more and more… don't you? Surrendering control to me…" Azula smiled, nibbling on his lip as she pressed him down on the chair while straddling his hips. "And the weirdest part is… I don't mind it much, when you're in control. Most other men are just…"

"No good?" Sokka smirked arrogantly. Azula huffed.

"More than a little full of themselves," she declared. Sokka snickered. "They assume they're good even before they've brought me to the brink the first time… it makes no sense, does it? Pretending you're good at sex without any basis…"

"Might be they're just no good for you…" Sokka suggested, kissing her jawline softly. "Might be, and this is just a wild guess… that you're better off with someone who takes his time to figure out where you want your clit to be prodded?"

"Hmm… yes," Azula moaned, pressing her chest to his. Sokka snickered. "Someone who likes to do naughty things when he's supposed to be a very professional tattoo artist…"

"Well, excuse me for my shamelessness," Sokka whispered, clamping his hands at either of her ass cheeks. Azula moaned again for it. "I'm a work in progress, clearly…"

"Shame on you…" Azula said, swaying her body against him. "Whatever shall I do? Will all our sessions turn out like this, I wonder?"

"Would that be so bad?" Sokka smiled. Azula bit her lip and grinned too.

"No. Definitely not," she laughed, kissing him and sliding into position.

With as many orgasms as she had enjoyed so far, it was only natural that Azula would fit Sokka's sizeable manhood without so much as flinching: he stretched her sensitive walls in a marvelous way, and she arched her body forward over the pleasure. Sokka grinned lecherously, playfully toying with her nipples, and Azula's moans only grew louder and more lustful because of it. She wanted everything he could give her, without holding back…

"You feel… so damn good," he laughed, with that charming smile she had been taken by from the moment she had first seen it. Azula purred again, thrusting forward and causing him to gasp. "A-Azula…"

"You feel good… inside me, too," she smirked, her long nails scraping his shoulders as she braced herself for thrusting again.

She took to a steady rhythm, one Sokka followed fit with: his eyes remained utterly entranced by the bouncing breasts before him, which enticed him to grope and fondle them before long. Azula's string of moans continued as she thrusted harder, recklessly chasing further excitement as Sokka's caresses only aided her in that particular pursuit: she would sway her body sensually, grinding her pelvis into him, her clit brushing delightfully against his skin and prompting her to moan further.

He filled her so well, to the hilt, and she wanted nothing but to keep him there forever. All this sex was probably not the best preamble for a tattoo, considering her skin would be extra sensitive because of it… but she thrived in the feeling of that cock tearing her walls down, smashing through her powerfully, threatening to wrestle control she found herself wanting to relinquish to him. If she couldn't keep going, she sure hoped he'd continue for her…

Sokka's hands had stayed on Azula's breasts, his palms almost tickled by the nipples that brushed against them. By now, though, his impulsive greedy lust overcame him: he sat up on the chair, tugging the controls expertly to recline the backrest. Comfortably sitting now, Sokka tugged her closer, making her spread her legs as far as she could while he penetrated her powerfully, covering her lips with eager kisses.

He had made his move at the right time, of course: Azula could barely hold herself back now, trembling as she felt a new peak looming closer. She was sure she hadn't ever reached so many climaxes in her life, and she absolutely relished in it, diving into Sokka's mouth with her tongue as her needy moans conveyed that she was at her limit. Yet again, Sokka only moved faster, harder, thrusting almost frantically inside her until Azula's long nails dug into his skin as she came with the strongest burst of pleasure yet. Oh, she couldn't even feel herself anymore, she was nothing but a huge blanket of aroused bliss, and he still wouldn't stop thrusting, still he kept going, rubbing his cock powerfully against the walls that tried to milk it. And milk it they would, but not until he was ready to relinquish his conquest: he had incredible self-restraint, capable of going forth with the wild tryst without losing himself to the swarms of pleasure. He'd give in eventually, yes he would, but he would last as long as he could, he would give her as many orgasms in a row as he could muster… and by her erotic moans against his mouth, their wild kissing interrupted as she struggled to catch her breath, he was probably close to getting her another one already.

Azula nearly screamed when the second peak came, and Sokka relished in her exposed neck, only to then move lower, to her chest anew. His voracious, lascivious kisses made it more than clear that he wanted her, all of her, and he'd stop at nothing to show it… yet, again, when Azula's third peak loomed closer – and she was seeing shapes dancing in her eyesight now, her whole body appeared to be both lighter than ever and heavier, somehow – Sokka couldn't hold back any longer: he released himself inside her just before her climax was triggered, and the shuddering inner walls around his cock squeezed him marvelously as he gave himself to her wildly, roughly, thrusting hard as his flesh slapped against hers, their sweaty bodies making magic wherever they might be joined.

He only stopped once her walls stopped shuddering too, and even then they lightly rocked together, grinding their bodies, kissing each other long, deep and slow, now that the surging passion had peaked. Azula clung to embracing him, comfortable by pressing her chest into his… and clearly Sokka wasn't about to complain for the delightful sensation of her nipples brushing his skin. His hands clasped her rear, keeping her in place, teasing her with light squeezes.

"That's… how a Kawakami tattoos his customers, then?" Azula asked between kisses, smiling teasingly. He snickered.

"Only the ones hotter than the earth's core, I'd say," he whispered, pressing his lips across her jawline.

"Hmm… so I got the premium package, did I?" Azula asked, fingers sliding into his hair. He chuckled again as he kissed his way up to her cheek.

"You're the sexiest woman that ever lived," he said, thrusting teasingly – despite he was flaccid now, they had remained in the same position, and the friction between their bodies still made Azula moan suggestively. "Say… we do need to work on the tattoo, don't we?"

"Mmm… maybe…" she moaned, sighing as she melted into his very physical teasing.

"You think you could, maybe… tell your people I'm a very devoted artist, and I've asked that we pull as many all-nighters as necessary to get the full tattoo done?" he said, smiling teasingly.

"Ah? You're asking me to stay with you?" Azula asked, amused. "For how long?"

"Until the job's done?" he said, stroking her hair. "I literally live on the second floor. We can just…"

"Go up there to rest. Have some more sex, then head back down here, work, have more sex on your fancy chair…?" Azula proposed, smirking. Sokka laughed. "You'd better do an amazing job with the tattoo, you know? Otherwise they'll all know I'm just sleeping with you."

"I'll do my best," he promised, kissing her lips softly again. "So? You'll… stay?"

"Oh, I don't know. What will I wear?" she asked, teasingly.

"On the most part… nothing," he smirked. "But if you really want to… I can lend you my things."

"Can you… at least tattoo me while shirtless?" she asked, biting her lip. "I'm sure having some really good eye-candy will make this whole process way smoother and much more enjoyable for me…"

"I wouldn't say no to anything that pleases an upstanding lady like yourself…" he replied, caressing her thigh suggestively. Azula smiled and kissed him again.

"This is quite the promising start for the Homura-Kawakami alliance," she said. Sokka snickered, stealing another kiss from her lips.

"I knew you could be persuaded to join us. With the right leverage," Sokka smirked. "Alright… I think I should order something for lunch now. We can keep going after, if you want? For now…"

"Keep going with what? Sex or tattoos?" Azula asked. Sokka snickered.

"With you, I'm not sure what's the difference," he said, and she smirked while biting her lip, a most sensual gesture he topped off with a kiss. "You're so beautiful…"

"You're as handsome as can be too, if you must know…" she smiled, resting her head upon his shoulder. "And such a handsome man will kidnap me for days… It's probably the most exciting thing that ever happened to me, and I don't even live a boring life."

"It's about to get even less boring," Sokka smiled, kissing her fiercely. "I can promise you that."

And while she usually didn't trust people, Azula believed him. She trusted him when he offered to take pictures of her body to document the whole process – she even posed suggestively for him, making him laugh and sending pleasant shivers through his groin. They ate together, once the food Sokka ordered arrived – noodles, hers were extra spicy, and she attempted to kiss him after, but he knew better than to let her, knowing it was a dangerous trap. It proved a helpful tool, for only this way could Sokka pull off the full outline of the tattoo without distracting himself… or rather, distracting himself too much.

Only the outline was done by the evening, and as Azula's spicy meal was no longer a cause for concern, Sokka picked up his new lover and carried her up to his room, in the upper floor. And there he had raunchy sex with her anew, seeking, as ever, to make her climax as many times as possible. They both fell asleep while wrapped together, limbs interlocked, lips breathing mere inches from the other.

And that was how their whole week proceeded: they would work in the mornings, take a break before lunch, work again afterwards, then stop for the day and do anything they wished with each other. And as strange as it was to basically live together for a week, by the time the finishing touches were done, Sokka was almost sorry to finish Azula's luxurious tattoo.

It was exactly as she had wanted it, with the dark, black dragon as good as watching her back, while hugging her body sensually. Flames burst around the creature's body, and where it could have been a threat, Sokka thought it was but a sign of how intensely hot his lover was. She sat on his chair, fully naked, as he tapped in more ink at her lower belly, and Azula sighed as she wished this could have lasted a little longer…

"You can always get another set of tattoos, if you want them," Sokka suggested, stealing a kiss from her lips. "I'll love to close up shop and not talk to anyone but you for a week again…"

"Hmm, don't tempt me," Azula smiled, pressing her brow to his. "Is it done now?"

"Just… one more thing," Sokka said. "Where should I put my signature?"

"Ah? You'll sign my body, will you? And here I thought this whole art piece was a way of saying you own me…" she smirked. Sokka laughed and shook his head.

"I'm pretty sure no one can ever claim they own you, fierce Homura Princess," he said, cupping her cheeks to kiss her lips softly. "Though, if you do see this whole tattoo as a way to brand you as mine, well…"

"I think it's sensual to see it that way," Azula whispered, kissing his cheek. "One day… you'll have to teach me. And then… I can tattoo you somewhere, and add my signature so everyone knows that you're branded as mine, too."

"Sounds perfect," Sokka smirked. "Tattoo marriage, of a sort?"

"It's fine by me," she laughed.

Sokka smiled and kissed her, before nudging her to lie down again. Where to set the signature…? The question had pestered him for at least two days, but he guessed Azula herself would be the one to decide the location…

"Should be on the back, right?" Azula said, biting her lip teasingly. "I guess… here?"

She tapped her coccyx, and Sokka smiled before rolling his eyes and getting to work. Azula laughed, knowing that, if anyone saw the suggestive signature, the nature of her relationship with the Kawakami heir would be more than obvious… oh, but why bother hiding it? As it was, they were clearly going to do this again, and again, and many more times…

She had been startled by the pain despite being prepared, the first time he had used the actual needles. By now it was almost familiar, the initial sting, the liquid sensation as the ink settled, the light swelling that settled across her skin. She was going to emerge from this tattoo parlor a whole different person, she knew, and once Sokka finished setting his signature, he covered the rest of her back with soft kisses, reaching all the way to her nape.

"You know… it's pretty late," he whispered, reaching her face. Azula smiled as he kissed the very curvature of her mouth's corner. "Maybe… you can stay one more night?"

"If you hadn't asked, I would've likely demanded to stay anyway," she smiled. Sokka chuckled. "I hope I look extra appealing to you now, lover…"

"I want to ravish you immediately even though the ink's not fully settled," Sokka laughed, kissing the side of her head. "You're something, you know? Most people take it easy after being tattooed… you basically just determined which position we'd fuck in depending on what I'd inked each day, eh?"

"You can call it what it is: genuine wisdom," Azula smiled, and Sokka laughed again. "Ah, but I really will miss this… miss you."

"You don't have to," Sokka said, stroking her hair. "We'll have an alliance soon, right?"

"Oh, yes," Azula smiled. Sokka chuckled.

"Then, see? We'll see each other again. For work, maybe? But then again, this was supposed to be work, so…"

"I guess," Azula said, reaching up to cup his face. "Didn't think this weird ordeal would land me a lover, but… I'm glad it did."

"I'm glad it landed me one, too," Sokka said, kissing her wrist softly. "Here I thought I'd have to give up my dreams of dating the hottest woman in the world one day, but heh, turns out they came true anyway…"

"Well, I sure can't complain either," Azula smiled as she eyed his body hungrily. "My lover is god-like, as far as I can tell…"

Sokka chuckled, kissing her again as he continued to offer her gentle affections: the final stroke was done now, and with it, all the implications of their shared bond, their mischievous crime. They'd have to keep the relationship quiet, for Ozai surely wouldn't approve… but Azula wasn't scared, for some reason. Perhaps life outside the Homura clan had appeared unfathomable, for a time… but now she had lived life with the Kawakami heir, no less, if just for a week. And perhaps such unfathomable possibilities were no longer so difficult to envision…

Sokka returned to the Kawakami headquarters to many questions that turned into loud applause when he announced the tattooing process had been a total success. Azula, of course, had returned to find the Homura clan was bordering on chaos without her active, constant surveillance, for as hard as he had tried to fill in for her, Zuko hardly knew how to handle the many cameras deftly. She had been welcomed gladly… though Ozai had been astonished when she had suggested he pulled through with the alliance suggestion.

"I know it sounds mad, but… his strokes and technique are truly quality work," Azula assured Ozai. "We could benefit from this alliance. We haven't had an tebori artist for a long time, so…"

"So, I take it the Kawakami boy is a seasoned professional ink artist?" Ozai asked, unamused. Azula nodded enthusiastically, though the word 'professional' certainly wasn't one her father would use if only he knew they'd indulged in so much wild, hot and relentless sex… "If you're impressed, then I suppose everyone will be. That being said, I need to know their full terms. Are you still in touch with the boy?"

"I can reach out, yes," Azula confirmed – no, she hadn't scheduled to meet him that night at his parlor to celebrate the likely success of their endeavor, of course not… "Shall I organize a meeting, then?"

"Please, do," Ozai said, releasing a breath. "An alliance with the Kawakami clan… well, I suppose we could do worse than that."

Azula deeply hoped he'd stick to that mentality, though there was no telling if he would, let alone if he found out she was doing her tattoo artist… but for now, it was a victory. One she'd be quick to tell her 'ink prince', as she had named his contact on her phone, as soon as she had a chance to.

A week later, a silent, elegant meeting took place at a predilect bar of Ozai's. He and Hakoda sat together at the head of their table's long room, discussing the minutiae of the alliance, while many of their closest associates watched: Zuko was there, tense, constantly eyeing the Kawakami as though he feared they might try to kill him. Katara, of course, kept shooting glares at him for his distrustful attitude, which resulted in just extra anxiety for the Homura heir. No matter how many times Kya asked Katara to cut it out, her daughter wouldn't budge.

And Azula and Sokka shot each other stern, serious glares whenever anyone else caught sight of them… and traded light smiles, occasional touches, whenever no one noticed. After half an hour, Sokka had excused himself from the table, claiming he needed to pace to stretch his legs. He approached the spot Azula stood at… and slipped a hand, most imperceptibly, towards the spot his signature had been branded at. Azula remained most impassive, until some discussion over taxes bored her enough to glance at Sokka with a teasing smile as well.

"Want me to order you a drink?" he asked. "For old times' sake, my first Homura customer?"

"Should be me ordering you one, you set this whole mess in motion," Azula assessed. Sokka chuckled.

"Guess that's one way to look at it," he grinned. "About, well, tonight–…"

"Whatever happens now… I'll go once I can give everyone the slip," Azula interrupted him, eagerness plain on her face. Sokka grinned back.

"Then I'll be waiting," he said. "Seems we keep having things worth celebrating, eh?"

"That we do," Azula smiled…

And her hand slipped to Sokka's tailbone just the same, prompting him to laugh quietly as they both indulged in their mischievous, private moment despite standing in public view. They had no doubts their wild, raunchy, tumultuous, dangerous affair was only just beginning… and as much as they knew strife, chaos, and much darkness could loom in the horizon, a moment as bright as this one, of an alliance cemented between clans, was meant to be cherished, just as another bond strengthened between two driven, talented, likeminded lovers, who couldn't wait to discover what their newly entwined destinies might just have in store…

#sokkla saturdays #sokklasaturday #sokkla #sokka #azula #with a few Gladiator cameos because #sometimes you need bg characters #and Renkai's name sounded more Japanese than Rui Shi that's literally why it's him #:'D #this is another wild ride of smut #because I couldn't help it #they be the horniest #and I love it #no stops pulled in that tattoo parlor ohohohoho

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kpopcotton · 4 years

Text

The Lonely Count ~ Huang Renjun

a/n ~ Happy Halloween! I’m so happy to finally get this out since I’ve been working on it all month!

• Genre: supernatural, high school au, strangers to friends, slight romance, fluff, angst if you squint

• Warning(s): very brief mentions of (fake) blood, it’s overall very toned down

• Reader Gender: gender-neutral

• Word Count: 6.2k

==≎==

“No.”

“Are you serious?!” Haechan cries out, his hands reaching across the table to give you a good shake as he speaks. “Come on! It’ll be so much fun! Besides, everyone else wants to and I already told them you were coming so, by law, that means you have to. Plus! Jaemin said he was excited to see you since you haven’t been hanging out with us recently.”

The mere mention of his friends makes you want to crawl into a hole to hide. You blankly stare at Haechan’s overdramatic pout as he tries to guilt-trip you, his simple act makes you want to go even less. There was no way you were going to spend Halloween night with a bunch of severely good-looking people. Good-looking people meant attention, and attention meant you would be the designated person that people would come to ask for the boys’ numbers.

You could imagine it now, the random, crowded Halloween party they were probably planning on attending, and them leaving you alone to find a wall to sit against while they went out and mingled. You already felt like a clown just thinking about it. Maybe I should dress up as one, show my true colors. You remember Haechan’s friends mentioning being introverts that one time you had to take a personality quiz in Health class freshman year, but you find that hard to believe.

Sometimes, it still amazes you how you’ve stayed friends with Haechan, in all his bubbly, social, annoying glory. “Tell them my mom grounded me,” you mumble, trying to show just how uninterested you are.

“But that’s a lie! Your mom-”

“Exactly.” You snap with your gaze fierce. Haechan’s previously open mouth clamps shut, fixing an awkward silence between you two in the booth of the diner.

You angrily opt for stuffing your face with the fries from your basket instead of talking to him. Your eyes drift to the window as you chew them. Haechan watches you, his foot slowly sliding across the floor to poke at your ankle, his way of getting you to calm down and forgive him for prodding. It has the opposite effect, however, your foot shooting out to give his shin a good kick as you glare at him again. He yelps quite loudly and the waitress who was on her way to ask you if you wanted refills, flinches, turning around to pretend to help a coworker behind the counter.

Haechan’s face flushes a pale red as he brings his leg up to rub at his shin. “That hurt, you know,” he whines, his bottom lip trembling pitifully.

“Good.”

His sad expression disappears in an instant, his face now pressed into clear frustration as he drops his leg back down. “Okay, seriously, what is up with you? If it were any other time, you’d be all over hanging out.”

“Exactly. I would say yes to hanging out if it was with literally anyone else.” You stressed, sipping your drink. Haechan looks to be at his wit’s end with you.

“What do you even mean?”

“What I mean is, I don’t like your friends, Donghyuck. I mean, yes, they may be nice to me, and yes, it is cool that they want to include me in plans, but do you ever stop to think that I don’t enjoy hanging out with them? Or that I’m not a fan of the things you guys like to do? Or that maybe, when I’m with them, it’s like I’m not even there at all?” For once in his life, Haechan is speechless, staring at you with wide eyes as if all of this was surprising to him. And, maybe it was.

“Y/N, I-”

“I’m not finished.” You hold up a finger to his lips. “Listen, I get that you don’t want to leave me out of the loop or whatever, but parties and hanging out in bigger groups is not my thing. I’d rather it just be us, like when we were kids, where we ran around town past curfew on Halloween stealing candy bowls so we could get fat for winter. Hell, I’d even be down to explore those “haunted woods” we were always scared of because of that story Johnny told us when we were in first grade.”

“Did I hear that right? Exploring the haunted woods? I knew you’d come up with an amazing idea for our get together, Y/N!” Speak of the devil and he shall appear. The Na Jaemin graciously plops himself down next to you in the booth with a basket of chicken tenders and fries. Haechan’s other friends, Mark and Jeno, squish Haechan into the wall on the other side of the booth. Jaemin’s smile was almost too bright, his eyes full of childish wonder as he glanced between you and your best friend. “That’s what this is right? A planning sesh? I love those, you know!”

You ignore Jaemin, your eyes currently stabbing holes into Haechan, but the little coward is too embarrassed to even look at you. He doesn’t remain silent, however, choosing to be civil and answer Jaemin’s question. “Y-Yeah, we were planning what we wanted to do with you guys Halloween night.”

“Oh goodie,” Jaemin claps excitedly, “Count me in then, guys!”

==≎==

You were dreading Halloween by the time it came around. You had planned on avoiding them, maybe sneaking out to hang out with the dynamic duo, Jisung and Chenle, from your first-hour Psychology class. But, all hopes were dashed when your mom happily invited all four boys into the house when Haechan knocked. They were already dressed for the occasion; Haechan as an angel, Jeno and Jaemin cosplaying the spies from Spy vs. Spy, and Mark as… himself?

He must have noticed your questioning glance because he was quick to explain, “I’m dressed as Peter Parker.” He pulls his backpack around to show you the mask conveniently hanging out.

“He was too embarrassed to wear the suit,” Haechan announces, making you involuntarily let out a chuckle. Your mom coos while patting the latter’s shoulder and Mark’s ears burn bright red.

“It’s skin-tight dude!”

“And?”

Before you could say anything in response, Jaemin was dragging you up the stairs to the bathroom, his arm full of costume things. He was talking a mile a minute about how he found the perfect costume for you and how he was so excited to help you get ready. He sat you on the toilet and quickly drew out the costume bag.

“Ta-dah!” His smile is, once again, blinding. You scan the packaging.

“S-Sexy vampire?” You splutter, almost choking on your spit.

“Yes! And, I can’t wait to see you in it!” He shoves the bag into your hands before turning around and covering his eyes. “Hurry up! Get changed! We don’t have all night!”

You slowly get changed into the costume; which is a pair of black slacks, a classic frilly white top with bloodstains that has a very lowcut neckline and a deep v-cut through the back, and a black cheap cape. You stand awkwardly in your costume, it fits a bit tight, as you look at your bright pink face in the mirror. Jaemin spins around excitedly to face you when he hears you stop moving, letting out a sharp gasp.

“Oh. My. Gosh! You look amazing!” He squeals, clapping with all his might. “Now let’s get you some makeup!”

You’ve been pushed back onto the toilet in the blink of an eye, Jaemin settling himself between your legs. He can’t stop mumbling about how cute you are and how perfect the costume is. You notice movement in the corner of your eye and see Haechan trying to sneak into the bathroom. You glare at him and Jaemin turns away from dabbing fake blood onto your lip to see.

“Haechan, look! Aren’t they so hot?”

Haechan suddenly flushes, pausing halfway through the door to scan your costume. You notice his eyes linger on your exposed collarbones and you tug the thin cape to hide them. “Yeah,” He nods after his once over, reaching up to flick at the plastic golden halo on his head. “I mean, they don’t look half as good as me, but I’ll-” He cuts himself off with a scream when you stand up to go after him.

Jaemin laughs, his hands quickly grasping your hips to keep you in front of him. “Woah, tiger. Calm down, you can beat him up when I’m done!”

==≎==

You knew you were radiating the most awkward energy as you came down the stairs in your getup. Your tongue is mindlessly playing with the fake fangs Jaemin had stuck to your canines with tacky-putty, they feel foreign whenever you close your mouth. Your mom, upon seeing your costume, rushes up to gush about it, her fingers pinching your pale dusted face before she begs you all to pose for pictures. Your face feels hot under your makeup and you wonder if it showed through the stuff Jaemin caked onto it. She quickly runs to get her phone, giving Jeno and Mark a chance to compliment your look. You thank them almost silently.

She won’t stop talking when she comes back, reminiscing about the days when you were all young, fragile, and small. She doesn’t miss the chance to poke at you for being a particularly weak kid, to which you fume over. Haechan tries to add onto it but you stomp your boot on his foot, shutting him up instantly.

As she takes a few photos, the boys having fun with their poses while you try to join, she then starts to mention that this will be the last time you all go trick or treating before college. A pebble of guilt forms in your stomach when she says this, you weren’t expecting the boys to lie to her about what you were going to do tonight. You start to drift into thought when Mark, who’s standing next to you, loudly stumbles to mention he’s already in college, and that he’s taking engineering classes at the tech college in the next town over. Your mom seems embarrassed to have assumed he was younger, but she brushes it off by saying he should take care of everyone tonight as he is an adult. Haechan pouts at your mom when she says this, saying that the rest of you are technically adults since you’re all 18, and she laughs and pats his cheek which turns red at the contact.

“Alright, kids, have fun! Stay safe! And don’t be out too late, I don’t want Y/N to wake me up in the middle of the night getting home.” The boys all reply with some version of, “yes ma’am” and start down the sidewalk toward the edge of town where the haunted woods start.

Mark and Haechan lead the pack, walking side by side and cracking jokes to the duo behind them. You, on the other hand, silently take up the rear alone. You already feel out of place. It doesn’t help when a group of pretty girls call out to Jeno and you have to follow as they all take a detour to talk to them. Haechan is quick to brag about your plans to explore the haunted woods, one of the girls gasping and indulging him. She’s dressed in a bright red jumpsuit, a headband with matching demon horns protruding from her hair. How ironic.

As usual, the girls are all over the four boys, none of them even sparing a glance at you. Typical. Sometimes you wish you had the confidence Haechan possessed to strike up a conversation with them, maybe then they would notice you. It sucked, but you knew it would happen, even when Jaemin said no one would dare ignore a “sexy vampire such as yourself”.

Soon enough, Mark decides that it’s time to go and they have to pull Haechan away from the demon girl he was flirting with. Again, you all fall into the formation at the start of your journey. Your mood is completely sour, and you contemplate sneaking off. You knew Jisung and Chenle were probably out and about trick or treating, and they had invited you when you said you were forced into plans you didn’t want to partake in. You had told them it was up in the air, and that you might ditch. Jisung said he would save some candy for you and Chenle said he’d buy you a candied apple. You suddenly have a craving for a candied apple. You bet yourself ten dollars that you would have a better time with the two younger boys than with Haechan and his buddies.

As soon as you turn to make a run for it, Jaemin shouts out, startling you. “We’ve made it! Guys, guys, are you ready for this? The scare of our lives awaits us!” He enthusiastically claps. “Y/N? Y/N! Come take a picture of me in front of the trees!”

Seriously? “Coming,” You grumble, walking past everyone to wear Jaemin stands, making sure to check your shoulder into Haechan’s.

You awkwardly take Jaemin’s phone from him after he opens the camera app. His smile is so strikingly perfect, you have a hard time focusing. He skips over to just in front of the tree-line and poses. You follow and take a couple of pictures before holding out his phone to him. “No, no wait. Take a couple more over here. Please, please, please!” You hesitate, trying and failing to hide your disgust when he gets down on his knees to beg. The boys behind you laugh at the scene, mumbling some things back and forth before laughing harder. An odd feeling clenches your heart when you wonder if Haechan was laughing at you, or making fun of you. “I’ll love you forever! Y/N, please, it’s for my Instagram!”

At that, you shove the phone into his face, causing him to let out a squeak. “Have your boyfriends do it or something,” You then push past the kneeling boy and make your way into the woods. You just want to get this over with.

The boys grow silent, looking at each other in confusion as you disappear into the thick underbrush. Haechan panics when he realizes just how thick it is, he can’t see you at all through the trees. He quickly apologizes to Jaemin before running after you. Mark and Jeno help Jaemin off the ground before following as well.

Once they step through the spot you had, awe overtakes them. The area, despite having a mass of vines and bushes surrounding it, is fairly open and you can see ahead for what looks like miles. It was dark, a lot darker than it was on the sidewalk with the full moon. The trees were all thin, devoid of branches until their very top where their canopies spread and weave together to block out the sky. It was eerily silent and it seems the sounds of life couldn’t penetrate the veil that bordered the entire wood.

Haechan could see you already a little ways ahead, looking around with an expression he would have thought cute if it weren’t for the way you had been acting all night. He stumbles on his way up to you, reaching you much slower than he expected being as you didn’t seem that far in the first place. The three boys behind him let him go, opting to explore the wood together and away from the conflict they knew was about to happen.

“Y/N, what was that?” Haechan questions you once he’s close enough, his voice low and demanding like you had done something wrong. He tugs on your cape and it irks you.

“What was what, Donghyuck?” You growl, stepping up so you’re chest to chest with him, a challenge. “You better lay off, alright. I’m not doing this with you. And, in the haunted woods of all places.”

His angered expression fades instantly as he gawks at you. He isn’t stupid, he understands something has made you upset with him if your use of his real name again was anything to go by, but he isn’t smart enough to figure out why. Before he could ask what pissed you off, Jeno’s voice slices through the silence from up ahead. You both turn to see him pointing to an old, victorian style house in the distance with a smirk. A small feeling of dread pricks at your lungs, deflating them and making you suck in a shaky breath. You forget the argument with Haechan in favor of observing the house.

The house is large and looks very expensive, most definitely a grand mansion in its prime. The tallest tower’s roofing extends through the canopy and lets in a minuscule amount of moonlight which shines upon the face of the house, glinting off of the second-floor windows. The exterior could use some work, it looks like it hasn’t been properly maintained in years. The roof is missing some shingles, the wooden siding was splintered, and there were cobwebs on the front porch and in the eves of the roof. Surprisingly, even with the signs of age, everything was intact, like it was preserved by the woods itself. How you didn’t notice it before was unnerving to you.

The five of you gather around the front steps. Upon closer look, it seems like some has been maintaining the house. There’s a potted plant next to the door that looks freshly trimmed and watered, and the garden surrounding the porch is beautifully filled with thriving flowers you were sure weren’t native. You wondered how they bloomed with such minimal light. As the boys discuss a plan of action, you almost curse when you see a faint light floating around inside the house. You pretend you never saw anything, taking it as your imagination playing tricks on you, in hopes to slow your suddenly racing heartbeat.

“So, we explore it?” Haechan asks, however, it doesn’t seem like it was meant as a question as he’s already on his way to walk up the stairs before Mark’s hand shoots out and yanks him back by the collar.

“I don’t think so, dude,” Mark quickly responds, his head shaking so fast you worry he’ll give himself whiplash. “Do you want to be killed or something?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t seem like a good idea,” Jaemin pouts, his voice whiny. “We might get arrested for trespassing or something.”

Jeno laughs, “Come on, are you guys scar-”

“Let’s do it.” You suddenly speak up, your voice surprising yourself. You had no clue what compelled you to say that, but it seemed like something inside of the house was telling you to come in.

“What?” All four boys seem dumbfounded. You don’t get why they’re so startled of you agreeing when they were the ones who suggested it in the first place.

“Okay, Y/N, you are officially insane!” Jaemin shrieks, his thoughts seem to be racing before he gasps. “Are you possessed? Is that why you’ve been acting so weird tonight?”

“I haven’t been acting weird,” You defend, already halfway up the stairs before you turn back to speak again. “You four just don’t know me. Now, we came here to get scared, didn’t we? So are you guys coming or not?”

Jeno nods almost instantly, his expression stoic but you could see faint sympathy in his eyes as he joins you in climbing the old stairs. They didn’t creak under your combined weight, despite looking like they’d cave in if one too many people were on them at once, which surprised you. Haechan was next to follow, whining about the not so subtle dig you had directed at him. Jaemin hesitated before scurrying up the steps to cling to Jeno’s arm, muttering something about Jeno being the one to protect the group if something were to attack you. Mark was last, begrudgingly trudging up the steps with heavy feet, claiming that if things went south, he would leave everyone in a heartbeat.

You rolled your eyes before turning to the grand main entry. It was a black wooden door, beautiful down to the very last detail, with a shining metal knocker in the shape of a boar with a nose ring. You gently run your fingers over the boar’s head before wrapping them around the nose ring to knock, the metal biting your hand with numbness.

“Oh, please don’t Y/N, we-”

Knock, knock, knock.

“Ah, seriously, you’re going to get us murdered!”

“Relaxed, Nana, it’s just an abandoned house. We’ll be okay.” Jeno laughed, watching the latter dig his nails into his bicep with a sweet eye smile.

“Yeah, I’m just being polite,” You turn back to glance at him and the door opens behind you with a swooshing gust of wind. It’s almost strong enough to knock you off your feet, but you only stumble as Mark reaches out to help stable you. Your styled hair is now messed up and you notice Jaemin’s disappointment under the raging fear. All of their eyes are fixed on the door behind you. “What?” You ask, glancing at Mark. “Is there something behind me?”

“No. Thank goodness. I didn’t want to have to save you,” Haechan walks up next to you, his chest puffing up as he tries to look tough while peering into the dark house. You resist smacking him upside the head for his comment. “It looks empty.”

“Just like we thought,” Jeno adds, his words meant to comfort the group, but you could tell it was mostly directed at Jaemin who was shaking in his boots. Jeno gently fixes the spy cap on Jaemin’s head before his own.

“So, we go in?” Haechan asks, again pretending he didn’t just ask a question as he starts to walk through the crack in the door. Mark, again, yanks him back by the collar, to which the former whines about choking.

“Would you stop doing things all willy nilly?” Mark stresses, fixing the wrinkles he had caused in Haechan’s button-down. Haechan shrugs and Mark sighs, using his foot to open the door the rest of the way. The darkness fades instantly when the lanterns flicker to life inside the house. “Okay, now let’s go.”

You all walk inside with you in the front for once, the door closing behind Jeno and Jaemin but you aren’t sure who closed it. There’s an ambient sound of the fire crackling softly from the lanterns. The inside of the house is a stark contrast to the exterior. It’s well maintained and neat down to the very last speck of dust, almost like a museum. The room you had all walked into was the foyer, a thin room almost like a long rectangle with stairs stretching up the right wall toward a landing with three doors. You notice everything is severely outdated, the carpet red with gold floral accents and the walls half dark wood paneling and half faded floral wallpaper. There’s a dark wood table just to the left of you between two dark archways, it holds a priceless porcelain vase filled with stunningly preserved roses and you can smell their faint aroma from where you stand. To your right, just before the stairs is another archway leading into the right side of the house, and next to it is a coat rack which holds a small, but expensive, fur coat.

“Woah, this place is-”

“Stunning,” You breathe, your feet taking you down the hall as if you were floating and Mark’s hand narrowly misses your cape. Your eyes trail along every detail. Surprisingly, Jaemin is right behind you, leaving the rest of the boys at the door. You both reach the farthest arch on the left side, practically hand in hand, and you step through it first. The lights in this room flickering to life as well, revealing a lavish living space.

You and Jaemin both gasp. Floor to ceiling bookshelves line two walls, a marble fireplace between a couple on one wall. There’s dark wood flooring in here but the couches and chairs are the same patterns as the carpet in the foyer. There’s a bearskin rug between the three couches and an antique coffee table sits on top of it. The shelves have collectibles too, dispersed between thousands of books. One of them, you note, is a Moomin figurine which is out of place in the traditional home.

You glance back at the fireplace, suddenly regarding a large portrait above it, your feet gluing themselves to your spot on the floor. The person in the portrait is beautiful, much like the house. His eyes seem to pierce your very soul as you stare into them, and his expression is that of arrogance and power. He’s dressed in black gothic clothing but he has a stark white choker with a deep red-ruby. His hair is black, pulled out of his eyes but it brushes against his forehead in a few stray strands. You felt you could stare at him for hours, he was that handsome.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Haechan chuckles into your ear, snapping you out of your daze as you flinch away from him. Your fist comes out to punch him in the shoulder before you can even process it. He yelps, catching the other boys’ attention from their spot examining the books.

“What’s wrong?” Mark asks, still on edge as his eyes scan Haechan frantically.

“Nothing, nothing,” Haechan grunts softly, rubbing his shoulder while he points to the piece of art. “Just making fun of Y/N for falling in love with a painting.”

“I wasn’t falling in love!” You protest, your cheeks flaring with heat.

“Okay, then what were you doing? Admiring the art?” Haechan asks, a little quirk to his lips. “Or that guy’s face?”

You reach out to hit him again and he flinches, running away from you to hide behind Jeno, his tongue poking out to mock you. You get ready to chase him, but you decide against it, not wanting to accidentally knock something expensive over.

“Oh, Y/N, I don’t blame you,” Jaemin gasps, his hands cupping his cheeks before one hand lowers to fan himself. You look over at him. “He’s so pretty!”

“Hey,” Jeno suddenly speaks up with a pout.

==≎==

You all spend the next hour exploring the bottom floor of the house. Jaemin follows you around to take pictures of anything he thought looked cool which was mostly you in your vampire costume doing casual things around the house. “Your vibes, Y/N! You suit this house so well!”

You didn’t pay him any attention, focusing on finding out who that boy in the painting was. You snoop through the bookshelves in the living room while the others mess around in the kitchen. Jaemin got bored of you ignoring his pose ideas and left to join the others. You found a black and white picture of a toddler in a suit, a bit blurry as it seemed the toddler would not stop moving, but it was definitely him. You barely noticed your fingers starting to trace the boy’s features, quickly withdrawing upon realization, a sharp heat scorching the apples of your cheeks as you walk around and see what other pictures you can find.

You found another of the boy, a bit older than the last picture, in the front garden you and the boys had gathered in. He was sweetly observing the flowers and a few specks that were most likely bees, and even in the poor quality, you could see the precious smile he wore. Your lips slowly curve into a smile the longer you stare at the photo. You were viciously torn from your daze when a loud shatter rang through the house, loud yelling following after and alerting you.

“Haechan you idiot!” Mark. He sounded like he was on the verge of bawling his eyes out and, when you find them in the foyer, it looks like he is. The priceless vase that once stood on the table, lay on the floor in absolute ruin. There were shards of porcelain everywhere.

“What have you done! We’re going to be cursed!” Jaemin wails, his face in his hands.

“Guys, guys, relax. Just watch out for the pieces.” Jeno’s hands stuck out between the group of boys as a means of mediation.

Before anyone could speak again, Haechan’s mouth already open to defend himself, the sound of a door opening upstairs alerts everyone. Dread fills everyone’s faces, yours included. Mark is the first to move, snatching Haechan’s collar and bolting for the door as fast as he can, pushing Jeno out of his way in his haste to get out. Haechan’s voice is pitchy as he cries out in fear. Jeno is right behind them, his arms tightly around Jaemin as he hauls him out, both of them muttering to each other what you can assume are comforting words. You try to leave as well, but a voice calls out to you, accompanied by the door slamming shut in front of you. Instantly, you hear faint banging and yelling from the other side of the door, but it seems you have other things to focus on.

“Who are you?” The voice is soft and would seem timid if it weren’t for the forceful undertone. You slowly turn to face the person addressing you, your jaw almost dropping in sheer awe.

It was the boy from the painting, standing at the top of the staircase in all his glory. He was even prettier in person, even with the flecks of paint on his cheeks and the casual clothing he sports. He has a pair of spectacles low on his nose that you can’t help but find adorable, he squints at you over the top of them. His hair is a mess, sticking up in all directions as if he was tugging at it restlessly. You notice cute little Moomin slippers on his feet as well.

“Hello? I asked you a question. Who are you?” He calls, his arms crossing and his pretty bottom lip quickly sticking out in a pout.

You gulped down the spit that had collected in your mouth. Was everyone in this town drop-dead gorgeous? “I-I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N?” He tests your name on his tongue, looking thoughtful as he cautiously steps down a few stairs. He gives you a once over, his eyes resting on your exposed collarbones and neck, where Jaemin had created fake puncture wounds, before they met yours again. “I’m Renjun. Now, I don’t usually get visitors. Ever. So, what are you doing in my house? Besides breaking expensive stuff and looking like an overly sexualized version of my friend YangYang? It’s a little rude, you know, we don’t look like that or dress like that, actually.”

You felt yourself become tense. Great, not only has he trapped me in his house to probably kill me, he’s mocking my costume which isn’t even mine! He said it - wait a minute, “W-We?”

His lips part in surprise, like he wasn’t supposed to have let that slip. You quickly take notice of a pair of little fangs protruding from under his top lip. Your face quickly flushes, your fading makeup doing little to hide it. He lets out a shy chuckle. “Well, yes, I-I’m a vampire. Do humans not think we’re real anymore?”

You’re speechless, your mouth opening and closing uselessly like a fish out of water. You can’t decide if you are afraid or in awe. You feel faint, the words almost not processing completely.

“I-I’m sorry to have dropped that bomb on you, but could we get back to the task at hand? Your friends kind of, you know, broke my favorite vase and ran.” His hand slowly stretches out to point at the collection of shards on his carpet. You shake your head to come back to Earth.

“Oh right, I am so, so sorry, Renjun.” His name feels funny coming out of your mouth and you feel like you don’t have the right to call him by his name. However, it seems you using his name softens something up in him and he looks away from you shyly.

“I guess you’ll have to pay me in some way,” He suddenly says, his eyes finding yours again. You deflate, you knew something like this was going to happen, maybe not getting stuck in a vampire’s house, but you knew you would have to pay for your friends’ stupid actions tonight in some way. It happened when they all forgot their wallets when you went out for McDonald’s at three in the morning and it was happening again, but this time you wondered if you would be paying with your life instead of spare change. “That vase was priceless.”

You close your eyes, waiting for him to finally attack you. “I understand,” You whisper.

“W-Wait,” Renjun’s soft voice sounds panicked and you furrow your brow in confusion before opening your eyes again. He seems to have an epiphany. “Ah! I’m so sorry! I’m not going to hurt you! Oh gosh, did you think I was going to kill you or something? Drink your blood?” You nod slowly, even more confused. “Oh, Y/N, I’m not like that! I don’t drink straight from humans, that’s gross.”

“What are you going to do to me then?” You ask.

“D-Do to you?” Renjun stammers, his cheeks turning a pale blue hue, and his eyes growing to the size of dinner plates. You nod again, watching him start to frantically wave his hands. “Nothing! I won’t even lay a hand on you! I was just gonna ask you to keep me company!”

“Keep you company?”

“I just - I haven’t left my house in like... years. And, YangYang actually moved to Germany so I haven’t seen him in a while and I’ve just been,” He hesitates, the conflict behind his eyes evident. “I’ve just been really lonely.”

You feel like you’ve been hit with a brick to the chest, the air leaving your lungs and turning into pain, feeling for the boy in front of you. Even with friends, you know exactly how he feels. It hurts you to know that the first social interaction he’s had with anyone in a while has been you and your friends breaking into his house.

“Oh, Renjun,” Your arms reach out to pull the boy into an embrace before you can even process it. The way you say his name makes him shudder despite not being able to feel cold. You pull away suddenly when you realize, both of you growing shy. “Wait, are you sure you want to be friends with someone who broke into your house? And someone who’s friends with an idiot who smashed your favorite vase?”

“Absolutely, I would like that more than anything” He mumbles, finding it in himself to gently take your hands. “You are really lovely -- s-so far, at least. And, I want you to introduce me to this idiot friend of yours, I want to give him a piece of my mind.”

You both share a laugh after that, and you hug him once more without even telling yourself to. “Then I would love to keep you company.”

“Th-Thank you.”

==≎==

“Y/N!” Before you could even close the door behind yourself, Haechan’s arms were suffocating you in one of the tightest hugs you had ever received from him. His face quickly buries into your shoulder and you feel the sticky wetness of his snot and tears on your bare skin. You forgo disgust in lieu of comforting your friend who seems to be more shaken up about the situation than you. You gently pet his hair while he nuzzles against you, rambling through his sobbing. “I’m so sorry! I swear, we tried to open the door, we really did! It was locked!”

You try to talk, but he hugs you tighter with the rest of the boys quickly following suit, only a puff of air passing through your lips. “We thought we had killed you!” Jaemin cries, his head taking up your other shoulder from behind. You can’t exactly tell whose arm is whose around you. The hug lasts a little longer, Haechan and Jaemin mumbling and sniveling against your neck, and even with the obvious bodily fluids you can feel spreading around, warmth spreads through you at the notion that they care.

“Was there a demon in there?” Mark asks with a trembling voice, backing away from the group hug with his eyes boring into yours as if to make sure your soul was still intact. He seems to scare himself looking back inside through the windows.

“Nothing hurt you, right?” Jeno’s hands reach over the two boys still squeezing the life out of you to cup your cheeks and turn your head side to side.

“I’m fine! I’m fine!” You rasp, “I just… can’t breathe.”

Instantly, Jaemin and Haechan let you go, apologizing to you and choosing to coddle each other instead. The boys let out a collective sigh of relief. You let a small smile spread across your face before it drops. “Wait, I just realized something!” You gasp, the boys growing tense.

“What? What? What is it?” Jaemin asks, leaving Haechan to hold both of your hands between his. His eyes worriedly scan your face.

“You guys grabbed each other and just left me!”

“Uh oh,” Haechan whispers, knowing your tone all too well. “Run!”

Instantly the boys take off, much like they did inside the house, however, this time they are laughing. You race down the stairs after them before your body stops and turns you around to look at the second-floor windows. You can faintly see Renjun smiling brightly at you through the moon’s glare, he raises his hand and yours does too. He waves, but your hand doesn’t. Mind control. “Cool,” You whisper under your breath and he laughs from inside the house. You smile and wave back before Haechan calls from the tree line and you run to catch up.

I guess I owe myself ten dollars.

#it is finished!#i hope it was worth the wait #thank you all for the love and support #nct #nct imagines #nct x male reader #nct x you #nct x reader #nct x gender neutral reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream x male reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream #huang renjun #huang renjun x reader #huang renjun imagines #kpop

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