#confirmed that he was laying in the bottom of the river and just got left there. for a thousand years

[honklore]

landslide | karl jacobs

(kindergarten teacher!karl, single mom!reader, oh no karl’s apartment gets flooded so he has to stay at his best friend from high school’s house who also happens to be the mother of his favorite student, karl just being soft and sweet and a great friend, um talk about the baby daddy being a loser essentially, the beast team is there playing the role of karl’s friends from school, graham is the sweetest child, slight angst, fluff, friends to lovers, SOFT KARL, warmth, comfort, romance coded but very light)

listen to: landslide by fleetwood mac, never grow up by taylor swift, growing up by river run north, rainbow by kacey musgraves

Karl helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.

“Now write your name,” Karl advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.

“G-R-A-H-A-M,” the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. “Can I take a picture? For my mom?”

All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Karl grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.

He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. “Okay, guys— to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!”

“Why are we having snack time so early?” It’s Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Karl.

Karl ignores the boy’s paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. “Mr. Jacobs forgot his lesson plans today, so we’re going to watch a movie instead.”

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Karl giggles. He crouches down to Graham’s level and whispers, “You wanna pick it?”

“Nature Nut!” Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Karl to wince.

Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Karl actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Karl did when he was a kid.

“Alright, go wash your hands and I’ll get it started.”

It’s a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Karl puts in the DVD.

While they watch the video, Karl checks his text messages.

There’s one from Chris: “I’ve already got Chandler on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but it’s not gonna be comfy :(“

Right. Karl forgot that Chandler lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Karl’s is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldn’t be so stressful.

Karl didn’t forget his lesson plans; they’re just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Karl has left lying on his carpet. And maybe it’s his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.

Serves Karl right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.

He lets out a quiet sigh, careful not to disturb the children. He only has a short list of friends left to ask, and while he doesn’t think they’ll mind him asking, he really hates to put anyone in that position.

Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Karl doesn’t want to ruin their routine. He’d hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good night’s sleep.

The video ends, and Karl gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.

One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.

Finally, there’s only one kid left, and Karl is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. It’s not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Karl’s beautiful friend, and sometimes Karl gets eager to see you during pickup time.

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.

Karl pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe that’s vain.

“Hey, Karl! Sorry I’m late!” You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Karl is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.

Until said child is scolding his mother. “Mom! You have to call him Mr. Jacobs! It’s rude to call him Karl!”

“Your mom is an adult,” Karl reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) “Since she isn’t a student, it’s okay for her to call me Karl.”

Graham pinches his lips together, and then shrugs. “Fine. Mom, we watched Nature Nut today.” He runs up to you and wraps his arm around your middle. “Can we go to the park and look for slugs?”

“Sure,” you giggle. “But we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.”

Graham turns to Karl and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. “Mom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said it’s There-pee.”

“Ther-a-py,” you emphasize for the five-year-old.

Karl studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. “Therapy, huh?”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?”

“You are a team,” Karl acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Karl clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. “Anyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. You smile at him and then take Graham’s hand. “Thanks, Karl. I’ll text you.”

Karl spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.

When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved s’mores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.

Life has never been very easy for you. From the get-go, you have always been destined to fail, growing up with an absent father and an overworked mother. With a dead-end dream like yours (writing, of all things), it’s no wonder you clung to what little breaths of freedom you had.

He was handsome and bold, with a carefree smile and brown eyes that mirrored the sun. The lead singer of a band, with a voice like chimes. And you fell just as hard as one of your many protagonists. Perhaps the mistake always lay in the fact that you put too much fantasy into reality. You have always romanticized the littlest things, and that comes back to bite you more often than not.

You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.

Of course, most people you come to love leave eventually. It’s something you have always remembered; something that sticks in the back of your brain like gum to the bottom of your child’s Spider-man skechers.

Graham is the only constant in your life. Though you’ve been blessed with a decent job editing for a webazine company, and you can work from home more often than not, Graham is the real thing that keeps you alive.

He’s the most precious boy, with brown curls and big brown eyes. He favors his father, and though that should deter you, it reminds you of innocent days, and it gives a new meaning to brown eyes. Graham is not his father, and he never was.

Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Karl is his teacher.

Karl’s been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out you’d be raising your child alone.

Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.

Karl is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. He’s wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.

Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. “Mom! We match!”

“I know,” you grin, squeezing his hand.

Karl glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesn’t. “Hey, Karl.”

“Hey,” he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.

Graham spreads his arms and waits for Karl to help him take off his jacket. “Do you see that we match, Mr. Jacobs?”

“Yo, that’s awesome, Little Man!” Karl gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Karl.

“How have you been?”

Karl sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Okay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so I’m staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.”

“That sucks,” you frown. “You know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldn’t mind.”

Karl pales. “Are you serious? I didn’t mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.”

“And you’ll be at school until three,” you say. “I’ll work then. C’mon, Karl. I don’t like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.”

Karl bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive over after I check out of the motel.”

“Great!” You smile. “I’ll order pizza.”

"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."

"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."

You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Jacobs is coming over, Graham.  Don't you want to show him your collections?"

Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Jacobs? You didn't tell me he was coming!"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."

“Can I show him my worms?” Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.

“Yes,” you say, thankful that he isn’t putting up much of a fight toward cleaning. You’re also thankful he isn’t asking any questions, as Graham always seems to have a few at the top of his tongue.

Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that he’s just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but it’s enough until the weekend, when you’ll have more time to help him organize.

The little guy hoards rocks like no one’s business. You curse the day Karl decided to teach the kids about geodes.

“Wanna help me make up Mr. Jacobs’s room?” You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.

Graham’s little footsteps are head before he answers, and soon he’s at your hip with a quick, “He can have my Frozen pillowcase!”

You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, but just you can’t give your guest a dirty pillowcase. “That one is in the wash, Buddy. Why don’t we give him your Spider-Man one?”

“So he matches my pajamas!” Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Karl’s made-up bed. (“So he doesn’t get scared at night.”)

By the time the pizza arrives, Karl is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because it’s a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Karl’s stuff.

He surprisingly didn’t bring much, and when you ask about it, he grimaces. “My studio is pretty small so a lot of my stuff was on the ground and got mildewed. Other stuff was in bins so I just left it there. I only need clothes and my lesson plans, anyway.”

“Well, here’s the desk and bed. It’s not much, but there’s a lock on the door in case Graham ever gets too inquisitive — bless him — and curtains so the stupidly bright sun won’t wake you too early.”

“Those both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,” Karl teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “Yo! Spider-Man?”

“Graham picked it out,” you say. “He also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.”

“He’s so cute,” Karl mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isn’t true, it’s just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.

“He is,” you say. “And he’s dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.”

Karl gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Karl himself isn’t in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Karl has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person.

It isn’t until Graham is peacefully in bed — after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Jacobs cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him — that you actually have a chance to show Karl around the house.

“Here’s the guest bathroom. Graham almost always uses the bathroom in my room because he likes looking at the big tub. He will beg you to play with him, but if you’re busy don’t feel guilty telling him no. He knows what no means and he’s good about playing by himself.”

Karl giggles. “Okay. I don’t mind playing with him, though.“

You show him around the kitchen, where you left little spaces for him in the pantry. You show him the garbage bags and the T.V. settings and the list of compostable ingredients. “And also, please come and go as you please. Like, I completely understand that you’re here temporarily and you aren’t a babysitter or anything like that. I don’t expect you to be in charge of Graham any time outside of school.”

Karl blinks. “But if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I don’t mind babysitting.”

“I know,” you smile. “But Graham is my kid. I don’t need time away from him.”

You’re lying. Karl knows it. You’ve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you aren’t about to reach out for help now.

“Anyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,” you say. “I’ve got to get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

Karl thinks it’s sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.

You’re already up when Karl gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. You’re busy arguing with Graham. “You can’t fry your own omelette for the last time.”

Karl quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.

Karl tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?”

Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. “Mr. Jacobs! Yes! Let’s go!”

He grabs Karl’s hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.

Graham’s room is fairly simple. The small wooden bed is covered in a green quilt, and beneath that, frozen-printed sheets that certainly don’t match. He has a tub of stuffed animals shoved against a small dresser.

Karl gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Karl feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be.

Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

Karl reckons that if he had a family like this, he’d never take them for granted.

Graham pulls out a gemstone. It’s a murky green one that Karl has let him take home from class. “Do you remember this, Mr. Jacobs?”

Karl grins. “Yeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.”

Graham beams. He grabs Karl’s hand and pulls him towards his dresser. “Can we match? I want to look like you.”

Karl feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesn’t want to cross a line. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also Graham’s teacher. He can’t coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. “I’m wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?”

“Let’s look!” Graham yanks open one of the drawers and begins pulling out the articles of clothing one by one. “No, no, no... Here!” He finds a pair of yellow overalls, folded amongst the mess he made. “I’ll wear these!”

“Let’s clean up first, okay?” Karl grabs the overalls. “So it’s clean when you come home from school.”

Graham, looking like the last thing he’d ever want to do is disappoint Karl, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Karl leaves it, thinking you’ll find it endearing rather than annoying.

He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. You’re so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Karl thinks that’s why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.

He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.

When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.

“Have an omelet,” you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.

Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.

Karl takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.

“Shit,” you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.

“Everything okay?” Karl asks.

You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. “Yeah is just—“

The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. “What do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.”

You slam the phone down and leave the room. Karl watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.

“Mommy is upset,” Graham says. He looks at Karl, lip quivering. “At me?”

“No, Buddy! Of course not!” Karl reaches over the table to ruffle Graham’s curls. “Never at you.”

“When we tore up paper, she was crying.” Graham fiddles with his book page.

Karl wonders why your ex’s actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Graham’s first birthday. But now he’s about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

“Are you ready to go to school, Buddy?”

“Yeah!”

You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. You’ll never get this article proofread and sent if you can’t see the keys.

The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

“Mr. Jacobs let us finger paint!” Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. “Can I have gogurt?”

“Yeah bud. Why don’t you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.”

“Yes!” Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and — after getting you to tear it open — runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.

Karl trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. “What’s going on?”

You sigh and close the laptop. The manuscript will have to wait. “Ben called. About a week ago. His girlfriend is pregnant. Called me to tell me he wasn’t going to leave her— like that would heal what he did to me. Then he called this morning to tell me they’re engaged.” You burst into tears then, and you feel so pathetic for doing this in front of your old schoolmate, that you hide your face behind your palms and allow your shoulders to shake. “Why weren’t we enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

Karl scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hey. Look at me.” With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. “It is not your fault he left.”

“But it has to be me in some way,” you retort. “He must not have loved me. Something, because now he’s going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.”

Karl places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now it’s heavy with intention. “Graham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? You’re amazing.”

You nod, head still pressed to Karl’s. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.”

“Be as emotional as you want,” Karl says. “I’ll be here to balance you out.”

Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than he’s letting on. Of course it’s stupid to think Karl Jacobs would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.

“I’m a mess,” you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.

“Nah,” Karl grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. “You’re alright.”

“It’s snowing!” Graham wakes Karl up by jumping on his chest.

Karl sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. “Hey, Buddy. Let’s not jump on sleeping people, okay?”

“Okay,” Graham says. He’s already lost interest in Karl, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. “Come look at the snow!”

“I see!” Karl rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. “We might have a snow day, Graham.”

“Yes!” Graham pumps his fist into the air. “Let’s go tell mom!”

You’re sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Karl and Graham enter.

Karl likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of seeing you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.

“Did I hear snow day?” You grin at Karl, childlike wit in your own eyes — the same as your son’s.

“Looks like it.” Karl rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. “You want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.”

You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help—“

“No need,” Karl insists. “Enjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

You give him a pointed look. “But not too many.”

Graham huffs. “But not too many,” he repeats.

Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming “It’s a dragon! Run for cover!”

Karl giggles from his place on the couch. He’s got mushroom-patterned socks on, and he’s tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. “How does he still have so much energy?”

You sigh and pull your beanie down over your forehead. “You’d think a snow day would tire him out. Thanks for constantly carrying him up the hill, by the way. I know you’re a teacher, but sometimes I forget how good you are with kids.”

“I do have a godson,” Karl reminds you.

“But Tucker is a baby,” you say. You only know the baby’s name because of Karl’s constant snap stories about him.

“Most babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.” Karl scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.

You sit next to him. “I guess that’s true. You’re really good with Graham. He’s not this open to other adults.”

Karl is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. “He’s great in class, always helping the other kids.”

“He wants to impress you,” you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. “He thinks you’re just the coolest guy.”

Karl laughs and shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear, Y/n? I’m handsome and cool.”

“Oh, of course,” you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. “How could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.”

This makes Karl blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “My time is gonna come.”

“Hasn’t it already?” you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that he’s grown into his face, right?

Karl is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. He’s so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re handsome, Karl,” you say plainly.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “Why would I lie?”

Karl opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you you’ve been too honest, but he’s interrupted by your son.

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

“I should go,” you say, still looking at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.

“You should take a shower. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Chandler comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Karl, and you’re surprised at how much he truly hasn’t changed since high school.

He’s still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still monotonous despite its humor. “Nice place.” He raises his brows as he looks around.

“Who are you?” Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones you’ve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.

“I’m Chandler, Karl’s friend.”

“This is Mr. Jacob’s friend from school,” you say, detailing your words so they’re easier for your son to digest.

Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. “Okay. Do you want to see my rock collection?”

Chandler looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Chandler to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.

“How have you been?” you ask the taller man. “Like, with the flooding and everything?”

“Well, I’m on a couch at Chris’, which is good since he doesn’t charge rent. But that means I’m near Tucker, and that baby has some lungs.”

You laugh. “I remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.” You realize you’re ranting and shake your head. “Whatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.”

“You can say that again. I’ve been talking to my friend Jimmy about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.”

“Why would you need to pay rent if you’re just crashing?” You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.

“Didn’t Karl tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes weren’t up to code and that’s why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so we’ve got to find new places.”

You stop cleaning. “Karl didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh.” Chandler scratches his brow. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. He feels really bad that he’s stayed with you this long.”

“It’s only been a month or so,” you counter. “Besides, Karl’s a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.”

Chandler grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” Karl, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Chandler in an energized hug.

“Nothing!” Chandler’s voice cracks

You shoot Chandler a weird look, and change the subject. “Where are you guys going?”

“To play video games at Jimmy’s.” Karl says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendy’s.

You miss it. “Have fun, okay? I’m probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.”

“You’re leaving?” Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems he’s both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.

“Not before I see your rocks!” Chandler says with so much enthusiasm, you think he’s telling the truth.

Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. You’re almost embarrassed.

“ ‘ Okay, Y/n?” Karl laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.

And once again, it’s high school. It’s senior year graduation and Karl is the only one who congratulates you. It’s his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. It’s that same comforting touch. That little “I’m here,” and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in a shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Karl is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Chandler’s words.

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Karl didn’t have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. You’ve been his friend since freshman year, and that’s all you’ve ever been.

Now in college, it was different. In college, Karl was alone in a dorm with Chris, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.

Karl even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.

Throughout your entire pregnancy he was warned not to stay friends with the pregnant girl — it’d be too much for him, he wouldn’t want to become the new father, and all kinds of other stuff people would mumble to him when you weren’t around.

But you never expected him to be anything other than your friend. You never asked him for the help he gave — though you thanked him always — and you never once assumed he’d take the role of Graham’s dad.

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

“Mr. Jacobs?” Graham creeps up without him even realizing.

Karl jumps, sets his water — and thoughts — aside. “Hey, Bud. It’s really late. What are you doing up?”

Graham sniffs, and Karl realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Karl holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“You left.” Graham says, voice less watery, like he doesn’t know the weight of his words. He’s focused on the rerun of Adventure Time that’s playing. He’s not even remotely interested in his nightmare now, with his tears dried up, and his eyes drooping back towards slumber.

“I’m going to leave one day,” Karl says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Karl’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Karl and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Karl’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Karl scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Karl smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, stormy green under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Karl’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

“Karl Jacobs!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Karl has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Karl’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Karl laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Karl.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Karl.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Chandler told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You want to say “You can stay here as long as you want, and long as you’ll let me keep you,” but that would reveal too much, and you don’t want to lose the one good friend you have.

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Karl pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Karl stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Karl. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

But you won’t see him in the kitchen, reaching for the pancake mix so his shirt rises up and you can see the dimples in his back. You won’t see him humming along to the radio while he works on his lesson plans. You won’t feel his warmth when the two of you stay awake, nursing spiked lemonade and giggling at the commentary videos you find on YouTube.

He’ll just be Karl again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Karl in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say, just as Karl confesses,

“I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Karl is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Karl bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Karl’s voice is a low rumble. Green grass eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

You close your eyes, because his are too honest. He’s open and vulnerable and gentle — a child on the first day of school, ready to make friends. You take a deep breath, try to remember what you were like on your first day. Rosy cheeks and shy glances. Knobby knees and a trusting heart. You reach out for whoever you once were — the Y/n with a heart open and willing to be loved. “I don’t want this to end either. I’m in love with you, Karl.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in emerald green disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

[littlelovelyspiderling]

Mending

ever wondered what happens when you have too many ideas and want to do them all immediately so you cram them into one story even though it doesn’t make any sense?? this. this is what happens

What if Zuko was the one struck by Azula's attack in The Chase? And what if instead of fire, it was lightning? An exploration of what would have occurred between Zuko, Iroh, and the Gaang in that scenario. Hint -- the Gaang has a LOT of fun messing with him.

word count: 29,650

_____________________________________

It happened so fast. Unbelievably fast. 

One second, Azula was standing in front of them, trapped and outnumbered, raising her hands in defeat. They’d beaten her; they’d won. It should’ve been over. Then, with a single sweep of her arm, a bolt of lightning shot from her fingertips, zipping toward Iroh too quickly, too close range for him to react in time to redirect it. 

She had been aiming at him. It should’ve been him getting hit, him doubling over, him collapsing lifelessly to the ground. So why was his nephew suddenly flying in front of him? Why did the lightning strike him instead? How could he have predicted what was about to happen, let alone moved in time to take the blow? 

Why did the world dip into slow motion as the electricity coursed through his body? Flashing, cracking, sizzling—coiling like neon blue snakes? Why couldn’t he move as he watched Zuko fall? Why didn’t he reach out and catch him? Why did his screams sound distant even though he was right there, convulsing at his feet?  

Why did the stench of burning flesh have to smell so familiar?

“Zuko!”

The avatar and his gang threw everything they had at the princess. But in a flash of blue flame, heat and smoke exploded across the battlefield. When the air cleared, she was gone. Zuko lied where he’d fallen, motionless and silent. 

Iroh dropped to his knees. “No—Zuko—no.” A large hole was seared through the fabric on the upper left side of his chest. The skin that was visible was red and raw. His eyes were closed and his muscles were slack. He looked asleep—peaceful, even. 

It was too similar. Too real. His last day in Ba Sing Se roared back to the present with a ferocious vengeance. With trembling hands, Iroh cradled the boy’s head. 

“Nephew...can you hear me? Zuko…please...”

Once they’d determined the threat was gone, the group gazed upon the gut-wrenching scene, stunned. A cold knot formed in Aang’s belly. Zuko had been hurt—bad. Zuko was their enemy. They’d been fighting each other not even thirty seconds ago. But the old general he called his uncle had always seemed strangely neutral. He’d never actively fought against any of them. Back in the Northern Water Tribe, he’d helped them save the moon spirit—and in turn, the entire world. 

However evil Zuko was, Aang didn’t want him to die. The old man clearly cared about him. And the sound of his sobs…

He looked to Katara. The war raging in her soul gleamed in the whites of her eyes. She caught his gaze, grimacing bitterly, her hands balled into fists at her sides.

“Katara,” Toph said, the weight of the situation heavy in her voice. The others held their breath, glancing between Zuko and the waterbender. Slowly, the anger drained from her expression. 

She stepped toward the old man, extending her hand. “I—I can help,” she said. “I can heal him, if you’ll let me.”

“Katara!” Sokka protested. She ignored him. Iroh looked at her over his shoulder, eyes red and pleading. 

That was all the confirmation she needed. Katara rushed to Zuko’s other side, kneeling opposite of Iroh. She streamed a line of water from her pouch and cloaked it around her hands.

“What are you doing?” Sokka snapped. “He’s our enemy!”

“He’s hurt,” Katara retorted coldly. “He needs my help.”

“I d-don’t think he’s breathing,” Iroh stammered, clutching the teenager like he’d disintegrate if he let him go. “Is he—is his heart—I c-can’t tell if he’s—”

“He’s breathing,” Toph assured him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I can feel it. His heart’s beating, too.” She closed her eyes. “But...they’re both very weak.”

It tore her up, feeling Iroh shiver against the ground, hearing his voice quake with fear. She’d only spoken to him once, but in their short conversation, he’d proved himself to be a wise, kind person who would do anything for his troubled nephew. They couldn’t let him die, if only for Iroh’s sake.

Katara held her hands over the injury, the water following its path through his body. The damage was deep and gruesome. Streams of burnt flesh fanned out from the entry wound across the majority of his torso, snaked down his left leg, then re-concentrated at the bottom of his foot, where the lightning must have exited. 

“This is bad,” she admitted, her gaze shifting to Zuko’s face. He’d never looked so fragile to her before—so small. His weird bald ponytail look was gone; he’d chopped it off and let his hair start growing out. It was short, fuzzy, and—dare she say—cute, comparatively. It also aged him down, making him look less like a scary Fire Nation soldier and more like a teenager. 

“It’s going to take me awhile. We should find somewhere safe to move him.”

Iroh sniffled and wiped his eyes, holding Zuko’s head in his lap and running a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he said. “Yes, let’s—yes. Okay.”

It took him a minute to stand. He kept his palm cupped under Zuko’s head, never letting it touch the ground. Once he was on his feet, Katara and Aang helped lift his nephew into his arms. 

“Thank you,” the old man whimpered. “Thank you all s-so much...” Tears flowed freely from his eyes as he held Zuko close to his chest. Aang offered him a small smile. 

“Let’s head back toward the river,” Katara said, returning the water to her pouch. “Appa should be waiting for us there. We can set up camp in the surrounding forest.” 

As she walked past Sokka, he gave her a what is wrong with you look. She shot back with a glare of her own, which shut him up for the time being. 

That lasted about two minutes. As Katara led the way, Sokka jogged to catch up with her, keeping his voice low.

“You do realize how crazy this is, don’t you?”

Katara narrowed her eyes but didn’t respond.

“We’re helping Zuko. You know, royal Fire Nation psycho freak? Ozai’s devil spawn? The guy who's been chasing us around and terrorizing us since we first met Aang? The dude who wants nothing more than to kill us all and drag our friend back to the Fire Nation like a prized turkey pig?”

“You think I want to help him?” Katara snapped, holding her shoulders tight as she walked. “He’ll die if I don’t heal him. Are you saying we should just let him die?”

Sokka swallowed and stared at his feet. “I...no. I don’t know. I just...don’t see any version of this ending well.”

“I know it’s weird,” Aang concurred, glancing back at Iroh nervously. “But...we have to help him. It’s the right thing to do.”

“What if one of us got shot full of lightning?” Sokka retorted. “You think Prince Jerkbender would do anything to help us? Of course not. He would exploit the situation to try to capture Aang.”

“His uncle would help,” Toph said.

Aang smiled solemnly. “Exactly. Don’t think of it as helping Zuko. Think of it as helping Iroh not be sad.” He blinked, his eyes darkening. “He seems...really scared and shaken.”

“It boggles my mind that he cares about him so much. That old man’s kindness is completely wasted on a selfish moron like Zuko.” 

Iroh moaned suddenly, causing the group to freeze in place and turn around. The Fire Nation general was trailing far behind them, flushed and sweaty. His knees were wobbling under the burden of Zuko’s weight.

“I’m so sorry,” he grated out. “S’my old joints. Please...could someone…”

Slowly, all eyes swiveled to Sokka. It took him a moment to notice the sudden onslaught of attention. He glanced between his friends, spluttering.

“What?” he exclaimed. “Why me?”

Aang shrugged. “Out of all of us, you’re probably the strongest.”

“But I don’t want to carry the angry jerk!” he whined, stamping his feet.

Katara placed her hands on her hips. “You don’t want to, or you’re not strong enough to?” she retorted smugly. 

Sokka knew she was baiting him, but with a huff, he decided to bite. All of them were exhausted; Azula and her tank of dangerous ladies had made sure of that. The sooner they got to camp, the sooner they could rest. 

“Fine,” he grumbled. He marched back toward Iroh, griping sourly under his breath. “Here—gimme.”

Sokka knelt down and let Iroh drape Zuko over his back. Sokka wrapped his arms under his knees and hoisted his weight forward, bundling the unconscious prince into the world’s most unhappy piggyback ride. 

Once he was secure, Sokka rose upright and stomped after Katara, face gnarled with irritation. “Happy now?” he said. “If he wakes up and roasts me alive, I’m blaming you.”

“Please be careful with him,” Iroh said nervously, tailing Sokka with his hands out like he was going to drop his nephew at any moment.

Sokka rolled his eyes but held Zuko a little tighter. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmured.

Ten minutes later, they reached the river. Appa was snoring peacefully beneath a tree with Momo nestled in his fur. The sun poked above the horizon line, casting blood red beams across the water.

As Aang gathered their blankets and sleeping bags from Appa’s saddle, Katara yawned and pointed at an alcove between two evergreens. “Toph, could you make us an earth tent? One big enough for all of us to fit.”

Toph jabbed her fists out then up, forming a large, triangle-shaped structure. The gang staggered inside, blinking and rubbing their sleepy eyes, with Iroh close behind.

“Lay him down here,” Katara instructed. Aang spread their spare blanket across the ground while Sokka unraveled himself from the lifeless firebender. 

“You know, you’re a lot heavier than you look, your highness,” Sokka scoffed. “Might want to lay off the fire gummies. And your obsessive rage-fueled quest of evil against me and my friends.”

Iroh hurried to Sokka’s aid. The two of them worked together to gently guide Zuko to the ground. Aang tucked Sokka’s Water Tribe jacket under his head as a pillow. 

“But that’s…!” Sokka began, then sunk in defeat. “Oh, whatever.”

“He looks so still,” Iroh breathed. He petted Zuko’s hair and ran his thumb along his cheek, tears glistening in his eyes. “Oh, nephew. How could I let this happen…?”

Again?

Katara re-soaked her hands in water and sat on Zuko’s left. “I’ll help him as much as I can,” she said, expression steely. She stifled another yawn, then got to work. 

The moon was high in the sky by the time she was done. The wound was still bad, but edging away from life-threatening. Her friends had fallen asleep long ago; she and Iroh were the only one’s left awake. She would’ve kept going, but at this point, she could barely keep her eyes open.

“He’ll need a few more sessions to heal properly,” she said, streaming the water back into her pouch and rising to her feet, “and a lot of rest. I’ll start again in the morning.”

“Thank you, young lady,” Iroh said, bowing his head. “I owe you and your friends an insurmountable debt. I know how you all must feel about my nephew, but…” He swallowed, voice wavering. “He—he’s very important to me. I know he is capable of great good, he’s just...been through a lot.” 

Katara wasn’t sure how to respond. She didn’t want to entertain the possibility that Zuko was or ever could be an actual human being with feelings—not after all the pain and trouble he’d put them through. Regardless of how his uncle saw him, he was still their enemy: a Fire Nation scumbag determined to capture their friend and rid the world of its last emblem of hope. Healing him was a reflection of her own kindness, and a courtesy to Iroh; it had nothing to do with Zuko himself. Having the capacity for good wasn’t enough; he’d never acted on it, which rendered it meaningless.

Katara glared at the ground. “If he wakes up…” she began.

“He will be no trouble to you,” Iroh assured her. “You have my word.”

She trusted him, though she wasn’t sure why. He was just as much Fire Nation as Zuko, but his aura and levelness reminded her of her father. Someone inclined to protect the wellbeing of others, and who never broke their promises. Still, she wasn’t letting her guard down.

She eyed the large red splotch on Zuko’s chest. “Even if I can fully heal him, he’ll probably still be left with a scar.”

Iroh blanched, but kept his expression stony. “I see,” he said. His somber gaze shifted to his nephew’s face. “That is okay. He can handle it.” His fingers carded through Zuko’s hair, lingering around his left eye. “It won’t be his first time being scarred by a family member.”

Something cold coiled around Katara’s heart. Her eyes flickered toward the dark, leathery burn marring half of the prince’s face before quickly jerking away. Someone in his family did that to him? She’d never thought much about Zuko’s scar—just that it marked him as an individual, distinguished him as their enemy, and made him all the more scary-looking for it. She hadn’t really considered how he’d gotten it, or what significance that might carry. 

Her curiosity was officially piqued, but she knew better than to ask. She turned away indignantly. What does it matter, anyway? A bad home life doesn’t warrant a lifetime of evil. 

No amount of sob stories would ever make Zuko deserving of her sympathy.

“Goodnight,” she said, curling up beside her friends.

“Goodnight,” he replied. He scooted behind Zuko and lifted his head into his lap, periodically checking his pulse as he petted his hair. It didn’t look like he was planning to go to sleep anytime soon. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The world that Zuko woke to was bright and painful. A beam of sunlight was shining directly into his eyes, making him squint and blink. He tried to shift to escape the harsh glow, but he couldn’t seem to move.

Maybe it had something to do with the bone-deep agony radiating through his entire body.

It started underneath his left shoulder and pulsed out from there, feverish and nauseating. His foot surged with a similar ache, but to a less heated degree. Every feeble attempt to move made it a hundred times worse. Even breathing was excruciating. 

Ugh, he thought, gritting his teeth. His mind was hazy; his skull felt like it was full of stones. Wha…?

He blinked, and a blinding blue flash exploded behind his eyelids. He jolted as the memory returned, his hand flying to his shoulder.

Azula. Outnumbered. Defeated. But...she attacked. Uncle. Had to protect him. Jumped between them. Then…

A cataclysmic thrum of unimaginable pain. After that, everything had clapped to darkness.

Grimacing, Zuko slid one hand underneath his body and pushed against the ground. The effort left him dizzy and gasping, but he managed to lift himself off the floor and into a sitting position, his bare back resting against the stone wall behind him. He sat that way for a while, panting and moaning, gripping his chest where the pain throbbed like a second heartbeat. 

Azula had done this to him. Figured. Had she captured the avatar and dragged him home to Father while he was out, taking away his only chance of ever redeeming his honor? 

He looked down at his shoulder, lifting his hand away from the skin. A large, red scar lied underneath, blistered and swollen and still relatively fresh. The splotchy, scarlet circle was the only visible evidence left by Azula’s attack, although he could feel its harrowing effect in every muscle of his body. It looked slightly different than the mark on his face—felt different, too. But not different enough. 

Another burn. Another scar. At least this one he could hide.

But man, did it hurt.

He tore his gaze away from the wound and scanned his surroundings, blinking the sleepy sheen from his eyes. He was in some kind of tall, tent-like structure made of earth. The ground around him was littered with blankets, bags, and other miscellaneous items. Not Uncle’s belongings, he realized. Zuko’s throat tightened. 

He’d have to worry about dealing with Azula later. For now…

Where in the world am I?

Voices reached his ears, making him perk up in alarm. Someone calling from afar, followed by a cheerful laugh.

“Hold on—let me grab my staff!”

Footsteps approached, quick but light. A few moments later, a figure jogged into the tent, silhouetted by sunshine. Zuko squinted against the harsh brightness, his eyes still bleary with exhaustion. 

The individual moved out of the doorway to rummage through a bag on the floor. Only when he stood upright, glider in hand, backlit by the sun but no longer blown out, did his bald head, blue tattoos, and chipper smile become distinguishable.

No way.

“Found it!” the avatar cried. Then his gaze fell upon the injured firebender, who was now sitting upright and visibly conscious, and his eyes bugged out of his skull.

“Ah!” he gasped, flinching back and dropping his staff. Before Zuko had time to react, let alone process what was going on, Aang darted out of the tent, shouting: “He’s awake! Guys! Zuko’s awake!”

Zuko blinked. And suddenly, four people were looming over him, their outlines and features fuzzy-looking. Time seemed to be flying by at double the speed while he was trapped in slow motion. His brain felt like a mushy bowl of jook. Fortunately, he managed to identify the individuals surrounding him.

Unfortunately, they were the last four people he wanted to see right now. 

“What the—?” he exclaimed, panic blooming in his chest. He tried to sit up a little straighter, but the movement made his chest flare with pain. He clutched it with a groan, slumping limply against the wall. 

“Don’t move,” the small earthbending girl said. “You’re hurt really bad.”

Zuko forced his eyes open, leering between the avatar and his gang, sweating bullets and shivering all over. Why was he shivering so much? Why couldn’t he make it stop? He didn’t just feel hurt; he felt sick. The wound was hot and sticky against his palm.

“W-what are you doing here?” he growled. 

“Saving you, that’s what,” Aang retorted. The Water Tribe boy—Sokka, if his memory served—stood beside him, holding his boomerang at the ready. 

“Azula attacked you,” he explained. “She shot you full of lightning. You’d be dead if Katara hadn’t helped you.”

Zuko’s stomach turned icy. His eyes wandered to the waterbender, who frowned at him with her hand hovering over her pouch. All of them looked ready to kill him the second he made the wrong move. 

Meanwhile, he felt ready to puke. 

Why would they save me? That meant they needed him for something. Information? Intel on the Fire Nation? A ransom hostage? Fat chance he’d be helpful on any of those accounts. They could turn him over to his father, maybe—he was a fugitive of the Fire Nation. Then again, so were they. 

Or they were lying about saving him. Maybe they’d kidnapped him after Azula’s attack just so they got to watch him suffer a slow, grisly death. Maybe this was building toward some elaborate form of payback for all the times he’d tried to capture the avatar. His injury wasn’t even bandaged—no medicine in sight, either. What exactly had they done to help him?

“I’ll go get Iroh,” Aang said, jogging out of the tent. Zuko’s fear-fueled fantasies veered into confusion.

What? Uncle’s here? Why? Was he hurt, too? Had the avatar and his friends captured them both? What was going on? 

“His fever’s gotten worse,” the earthbender said. It took Zuko a second to realize she was talking about him, and a second longer to realize she had somehow come to this conclusion without even touching him. It made no sense. None of this did. It felt like he was trapped inside some crazy, lucid nightmare.

Katara studied him for a while, her eyes dark and searching. Then she sighed, coating her hands in water. She walked toward him suddenly, making Zuko tense.

“Stay back!” he shouted, gritting his teeth to keep them from chattering. He kept one palm glued to his wound while the other stayed flat against the ground to prevent him from toppling over.

To his disbelief, the waterbender ignored him, sitting by his side with a level expression. Katara stared at Zuko coldly. She’d never realized how golden his irises were. She’d never been this close to see—not while he was awake. When they caught the sunlight, they glinted and shimmered in an almost supernatural way. The eyes of a hunter. 

Zuko glared back with his usual scowl. Brows furrowed, teeth bared. He’d always reminded her of a predator. Something wild and ferocious that prowled after the innocent. But today, something was different. Today, Zuko was the prey: trembling, injured, trapped, and scared. His typically scalding gaze was clouded with fear.

Katara held up her hands as she stared him down. The water encasing them glowed a soft blue. “I’m going to help lower your fever,” she stated. “Either you sit still and let me do it, or Toph pins you down and makes you stay still.”

“And if you try firebending, Boomerang is coming for your head,” Sokka added. 

Zuko’s skin bristled with goosebumps as chills shuddered up his spine. After the Agni Kai against his father, he recalled contracting an intense fever in response to the terrible burn. It hadn’t lasted long, but it wasn’t pleasant. Uncle had worked diligently to bring it down and comfort him while the physicians tended to his scorched face. It wasn’t a time he liked to remember, but he wondered if that’s what was happening now—if Azula’s burn was afflicting him just like Father’s had. 

“I don’t w-want your help,” Zuko hissed. He had no idea what she was planning to do to him, and he wasn’t interested in finding out. Whatever the end goal to all of this was, their intentions were clearly hostile.

Katara shared a look with her brother, then wrinkled her brow. Wordlessly, she reached forward, placing her palm against Zuko’s forehead. 

“Hey! What’re you—?” He squirmed away and made a grab for her wrist, but she caught his first, pinning his arm against the wall without moving the hand on his head. He didn’t realize how weak he was until he tried and failed to wriggle free of her hold. The effort it took just to try left him woozy. 

“Just—wait,” she instructed sharply. “It’ll make you feel better. I promise.”

He considered frying her hand to force her to release him, but Sokka was right there, and he knew how much that boomerang could hurt—even with a helmet on. Plus, he was tired, lightheaded, and now that she mentioned it…

He stopped fighting for a moment, panting. The watery glove around her hand felt like it was seeping through his skull and into his brain, sucking all the heat and pain with it. The pulsing ache in his head eased to a small hum. His feverish chills eased away. Slowly, his muscles relaxed. He blinked, stunned by the sudden and extraordinary relief. 

Once she realized he wasn’t trying to escape anymore, she let go of his wrist and pressed both palms to his temples. The assuage increased even more, making Zuko release a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. 

“This should bring your fever down temporarily,” she said. This was not normal waterbending; he knew that much. It was cool, tingly, soothing, almost spiritual in nature. When she took her hands away, he was left feeling exponentially better, though the wound on his shoulder continued to throb. Zuko met her gaze for an instant, pressing a finger to his brow. 

“What...what’d you just do?” he asked. Katara stood and stepped back, her expression sour.

“Reduced your pain, even if you deserve every bit of it.” 

Anger resurfaced in the prince’s chest. Even though he was still reeling with relief, his eyes cut daggers through hers.

“Then why do it?” he remarked. He gripped his injury tighter. “Why am I here? What do you want from me?”

“I’ll see if Iroh has any herbal remedies he could give you for a more permanent solution,” Katara continued, ignoring his abrasive inquiry. “But you’ll need plenty of rest to recover completely.”

“Answer my questions!” Zuko yelled, making Sokka and Toph wince. “Why are you keeping me here? What are you planning?”

The shouting roused his wound, making him fall back against the wall with a strained whimper. At that moment, the avatar skipped back into the tent with Iroh on his tail. Zuko glanced up along with the others. As soon as Uncle’s eyes found his, the old man melted. 

“See? He’s awake! Told you he’d be all right!”

Iroh didn’t wait for him to finish. He rushed toward his nephew, tripping over sleeping bags and pushing past Sokka with his arms outstretched. “Zuko!” he cried.

“Uncle?” the young prince answered, looking puzzled. He yelped in surprise when Iroh practically tackled him, wrapping him into the biggest platypus bear hug any of them had ever seen.

“Oh, my beautiful nephew!” Iroh blubbered, squeezing the air from his lungs. “I’m so happy you’re all right!”

Zuko squirmed uncomfortably, inexperienced in dealing with such blatant physical affection. “Uncle! What’re you—ouch! Quit it! You’re—crushing me!”

A few giggles slipped from Aang and Toph’s lips. It was an amusing scene—watching the grumpy Fire Nation prince get smothered by his overbearing uncle. Even the Water Tribe siblings hinted smug grins. Aang swore he saw a touch of pink flush across the firebender’s cheeks. 

Despite his nephew’s wriggly protests, Iroh clung on to him a little while longer, one hand wrapped around Zuko’s torso while the other cradled the back of his head. Zuko eventually gave up trying to escape and just sat there awkwardly, squished and pouting as he waited for his uncle to get his fill. The gang was relieved to see Iroh happy after so many hours of anxiety. 

Once he finally released Zuko from his hold, Iroh’s attention honed in on his nephew’s wound, his hands hovering around the bright red scar. “How bad does it hurt? Are you in terrible pain?”

More like excruciating, Zuko thought. His muscles felt like burnt noodles, his bones like over-roasted komodo chicken legs. But he didn’t need to tell Iroh that—he was already an erratic pyre of stress as it was. He rolled his eyes and shrugged, trying to evoke nonchalance, realizing his mistake too late. A stabbing ache tore through his shoulder and shot down his arm, making him to wince sharply and hiss through his teeth. He grabbed his chest, groaning wearily.

“Stay still, Prince Zuko,” Iroh said, laying the back of his hand against his cheek. “Your body is very weak, and you’re still warmer than usual. I’ll brew you some ginger root tea to reduce the fever.”

Zuko scrunched up his brow and knocked his hand away. “Stop fussing, Uncle,” he grumbled bitterly. “M’fine.”

“Fine?” Iroh repeated. A beat passed where the old man just stared at him, jaw tight, his lower lip trembling. Then, out of nowhere, Uncle seized Zuko by his uninjured shoulder, his eyes flashing with an uncharacteristic rage. “Are you insane? You call this ‘fine?’ What on earth were you thinking?”

Zuko blinked, looking just as surprised as everyone else in the room. He was still recovering from Iroh’s crushing embrace, followed by the sudden burst of pain. Now he was yelling at him? 

“What?” Zuko said, startled.

“Why would you throw yourself in between me and Azula like that?” he shouted. “That lightning should have hit me, not you!”

It wasn’t like Uncle to shout. Uncle only shouted when it was for a very specific and important purpose. He wasn’t like the Fire Lord—or Zuko, for that matter. 

“You’d rather I just sat there and let you take the hit?” Zuko scoffed in disbelief. “Azula was trying to kill you!”

“And she very nearly killed you!” Iroh retorted, making Zuko shrink back a little. “If it wasn’t for the kindness of these children, you’d be dead right now! First in the North Pole, and again today!”

Zuko grimaced and turned away, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “I never asked for their help.”

Iroh gave him a quick shake, making the young prince tense. “You shouldn’t even be needing it! You have to stop putting yourself in danger like this!”

Zuko didn’t understand why he was so angry with him. He huffed toward the ground. “This is exactly why I didn’t want us traveling together anymore. You worry too much.”

“Because you don’t worry enough!” Iroh roared. “You seem perfectly fine with throwing your life away over nothing!”

“I was trying to protect you, Uncle!” Zuko exclaimed, shoving his hand off his shoulder. “Is your life nothing?”

“Yes!” Iroh snarled. He cupped his nephew’s face in his hands, his eyes like fire. “Compared to yours, yes! My life is nothing, Prince Zuko.”

Zuko’s scowl fell, replaced by a look of sickly confusion. The tent plunged into sudden silence. Aang and his friends felt like they were intruding on a very private moment, but now they were too intrigued not to see how this ended.

“Why...would you say that?” Zuko asked uneasily. He pulled Iroh’s hands away from his face. “That’s not—”

“I’ve lived my life, nephew,” Uncle insisted. “If I died today, I’d die a happy, fulfilled old man. But you are just a boy, my prince, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not. You have so much life left to live. If you died…”

Uncle shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, bowing low to ground, as if the thought physically hurt him. Zuko didn’t know what to say. Tears started slipping down Iroh’s cheeks and dripping into the grass.

“Uncle…” Zuko began softly. A moment later, his eyes lurched up to the four others occupying the room and grew wide, as if he’d forgotten they were there. He leered at them with a mixture of loathing and embarrassment, feeling strange and exposed by their prying gazes, until Uncle listed forward, burying his face into his chest. 

“Don’t m-make me endure it again, Zuko,” Iroh wept, hugging the prince with all the love and pain in the universe. “Don’t make me watch another son die...”

Guilt and sorrow surged into Zuko’s throat. He knew Iroh cared for him—knew he liked to pretend that he was his own now that Lu Ten was gone. But to this day, he didn’t understand why. Zuko had done nothing to earn Iroh’s love; he actively pushed him away and treated him like garbage just to prove it, testing how much it would take to get it to break. But no matter what he tried, Iroh’s love persisted: unbending and unconditional. It was perplexing, illogical, infuriating—and wonderful.

Uncle’s love wasn’t like Ozai’s. Uncle’s love wasn’t something he had to beg and fight and compete for. It was just...there. Always. And he had no idea how to deal with it.

As Iroh cried into his shoulder, Zuko placed an awkward hand on his arm in attempt to calm him, wincing at the anguish in his sobs. “I wasn’t—I didn’t—” he stammered, grappling for the words to make him stop.

“It would’ve killed me, Zuko,” Iroh wept, holding him close. “If you d-died saving me, I would have died anyway. I couldn’t bear it. Not again…”

Zuko watched his Uncle sniffle and shake, a lump forming in his throat. He didn’t understand it. He doubted he ever would. He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. He cursed the wobble that snuck into his voice. 

“I think we should go,” Toph whispered, jerking her thumb toward the exit. The group nodded in agreement. None of them had ever seen Zuko so vulnerable before—physically, emotionally, or otherwise. He obviously reciprocated Iroh’s love, even if he wasn’t as good at expressing it as him. It was obnoxiously heartwarming.

“No,” Iroh said, sitting up suddenly, running the heels of his hands under his puffy eyes. “No, please stay.” He turned to Zuko, placing a palm against his back. “My nephew has something he’d like to say to you.”

Zuko’s soft expression twisted into a look of disgust. “What?”

“These people saved your life on two different occasions, Prince Zuko—despite all the trouble we’ve caused them. The least you can do is thank them for their generosity.”

The firebender’s golden gaze bore ferociously into his uncle’s, then swept across the four kids standing around them. His signature scowl returned with a vengeance. 

“There’s a reason besides generosity that they did it,” Zuko hissed, flinching and grabbing his wounded shoulder. “I just haven’t figured out what it is yet.”

Katara placed her hands on her hips. “We did it because we’re not monsters,” she shot back. “And because your uncle cares about you. Why, I have no idea—but we didn’t want him to lose his nephew.”

Zuko lunged toward her with a growl, but Iroh held him back, which did not take much effort. 

“Enough, Zuko,” he scolded him. “The reason they helped you does not matter. The fact is, they helped you. And that alone warrants your gratitude.”

The injured prince glowered at them, gritting his teeth. Iroh was kidding himself if he thought he was going to get a ‘thank you’ to cross his insufferable nephew’s lips.

“Trust me, Prince Zuko—it is far more honorable to thank your rival for sparing your life than to hold your tongue out of senseless pride.” He placed a hand on his head and ruffled his hair. “Go on.”

Zuko ducked out of his reach and scratched his scalp irritably. The group waited for him to blow up, to spit fire and fury and tell all of them to go jump in the river. His glare alone could sear clean through stone.

But to everyone’s disbelief, the flames in his eyes were gradually superseded by something else. A lifetime of exhaustion, misery, and defeat. His golden irises suddenly looked dull; his expression grew heavy with sadness. He grimaced at the wall, still trembling a little from his fever.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he spat, squeezing his eyes shut. “But...thank you.”

A moment later, Zuko did a quick motion, placing the heel of his left palm on top of his right fist and dipping his head toward the ground. If someone blinked, they would’ve missed it—but the gang recognized the rapid gesture as a Fire Nation bow, done as a sign of respect and humility. It was fast and awkward, but it was genuine. Then Zuko turned his back to them, frowning at the corner of the tent, hunching his shoulders and kneading his wound with his thumb.

Katara, Sokka, and Toph walked outside, but Aang stayed behind, smiling wide. Even though he wasn’t looking, Aang repeated the movement back to Zuko. Iroh beamed at him delightedly, then patted his nephew’s arm.

“Get some rest, Prince Zuko. I’ll be back soon with the tea and some soup.”

Zuko didn’t acknowledge him as he got up and left with the others. He just stared at the wall, feeling small, broken, and weak. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

While Iroh prepared the meal, the avatar and his crew sat around the fire in a misshapen semi-circle, each occupied with their own projects. Aang polished his staff, Sokka sharpened his boomerang, Katara sewed a tear in her dress, and Toph played with Momo, making little pegs of earth pop up from the ground for him to chase. 

The silence was suffocating. 

Sokka kept shooting looks at his friends, as if to say is no one going to acknowledge how strange this is? They had two Fire Nation royalty with them, one of which was making them dinner, while the other (who had tried to kill them on many, many occasions) was sleeping hardly twenty feet away. When he couldn’t bear it any longer, he cleared his throat, painting an awkward grin on his face. 

“So...uh...Iroh. General Iroh? Or—Prince Iroh? Or—?”

The old man chuckled. “Just Iroh is fine.” He swirled a ladle through the steaming broth. The aroma was thick and spicy. “Would anyone care for some ginseng soup?”

Everyone raised their hand, bringing a smile to his face. He filled four bowls to the brim and handed one to each of the kids. Once the group had been served, Iroh sat among them, sipping his own meal while monitoring the tea.

“Wow, this is great!” Sokka said, slurping noisily. He wiped his mouth and eyed the old man with a frown. “Not to be rude or anything, but...you seem like a pretty okay guy. Why do you waste your time trying to help your evil nephew?”

“Sokka!” Katara rebuked him, making him wince.

“What? It’s a valid question! He’s so polite and nice, even if he is Fire Nation. Zuko, on the other hand...”

Iroh rested his bowl in his lap, watching the soup wobble and glint in the sunlight. He sighed softly. “I know you all dislike my nephew. And after everything he’s done, you have every right to. He is a conflicted person who has made many mistakes.” He lifted his gaze. “But I’ve known Zuko since the day he was born, and I know the goodness that lies within him.”

Katara huffed dubiously, sipping her dinner in short bouts. Sokka frowned behind his soup mustache. Meanwhile, Aang and Toph listened curiously, spooning heaps of broth into their bellies. Momo leaned over Aang’s shoulder and lapped up a few mouthfuls from his bowl. 

“I was on a path not dissimilar from his for most of my life. Obsessed with honor and power, as well as my place in the Fire Nation. It took immense pain and suffering for me to realize the error of my ways and to start on a new journey. One focused on restoring balance to the world and protecting peace.”

His words struck Katara like an arrow through the heart. “Your son?” she said hesitantly, remembering his words from before. Iroh closed his eyes and nodded his head. 

“Yes. Lu Ten.”

“But how is helping Zuko capture Aang protecting peace?” Sokka asked bluntly. “You’d be destroying it.”

Iroh chuckled. “I haven’t exactly been helpful in my nephew’s pursuit of the avatar. That has never been my goal. I travel with him because I’m all he has left.” He lowered his gaze. “Now that he and I have been declared fugitives of the Fire Nation, I suppose he’s all I have, too.”

Aang gawked. “Fugitives? You mean the Fire Nation considers Zuko a criminal?”

He recalled that it had been Zuko who busted him out of the Fire Nation prison Zhao had locked him up in. Zuko, wielding dual swords and wearing a blue mask, had helped him escape. To this day, he never understood why he’d risked his life to free him. Was it really all because he wanted to capture the avatar himself? 

Had the Fire Nation found out what he did that night, and branded him a traitor? 

“Zuko was banished from the Fire Nation when he was thirteen, and has been living in exile ever since. But only recently has the Fire Lord labeled him fugitive.” Iroh stroked his beard. “Why, I’m not entirely sure—though I have my suspicions.”

Katara and Sokka exchanged a startled glance. Zuko was banished from his own country? At thirteen?

“Why was he banished in the first place?” Toph asked, voicing the question in everyone’s mind.

Iroh finished off his soup and placed his bowl to the side, his eyes dark. He knew Zuko wouldn’t approve of him sharing his life story with his so-called enemies. But perhaps if they knew how he ended up in the place he was today, they could begin to understand the why, and maybe even aid him on his journey to see the light. Iroh heaved a lofty sigh.

“It is my fault, I am afraid. I let him attend a war meeting even though I knew the risks. It is one of my greatest regrets.” He bowed his head. “The Fire Nation is very strict about knowing one’s place and staying quiet in certain social situations. When I granted him permission to join us, I warned him not to speak. But when one of the generals suggested we use a group of new recruits as bait for our next attack against the Earth Kingdom, that we send a bunch of kids into what would very likely wind up a suicide mission—Zuko denounced him in front of the highest ranking war authorities in the Fire Nation.”

His nephew’s words echoed hollowly in his skull. You can’t sacrifice an entire battalion like that! Those soldiers love and defend our nation. How could you betray them?

The four friends stared at him in tense silence. Iroh poured himself a cup of tea as the fire cracked and fizzled. 

“Zuko was right, of course. But his actions were considered extraordinarily disrespectful. He was forced to fight an Agni Kai—a fire duel—in front of the entire royal court. He thought it would be against the elderly general he’d interrupted. Instead, when he turned around, he found himself standing face-to-face with Ozai, his father.”

The icy claw from before seized Katara’s heart with a newfound frigidness. She had a feeling she already knew where this was leading, but the thought still chilled her to her core. 

“His dad...wanted to fight him?” Sokka inquired. “Or he was forced to?” 

“Ozai is the Fire Lord—the supreme leader of the country. He could have easily pardoned Zuko and moved on. My brother chose to fight his own thirteen-year-old son willingly and zealously.” Iroh grimaced. “Ozai has detested Zuko since he was a child, always favoring his sister Azula above him. He’s been searching for a way to revoke Zuko’s birthright to the throne since Azula began to overshadow him in firebending prowess. Speaking out in a war meeting granted him the perfect excuse to do just that.”

The air was still. Toph suddenly felt guilty for once believing her parents were the worst the universe could bestow. Momo trilled and pawed at Aang’s ear. The avatar leaned toward Iroh anxiously. 

“What happened next?”

The old man sipped his steaming cup, his expression sad and distant. “I thought by this point, the whole world knew what happened that day. Fire Nation parents tell the story to their children to scare them into obedience and allegiance to their country.” 

None of the kids spoke up. They just stared at him, wide-eyed. So Iroh continued. 

“Zuko threw himself to the ground, begging for his father’s forgiveness. Ozai commanded him to fight, but he refused to attack his own father.” 

The cup was suddenly trembling in his hands. His knuckles were stiff and white. “I...I should have stopped him. I should have protected Zuko. He was just a child, you know? And he was so afraid...”

Iroh gazed at the grass between his feet. Tiny flowers shuddered and danced in the breeze. 

“Ozai...did not show him mercy,” he said, voice ominous. “After the duel, Zuko’s refusal to fight was pronounced weak and disgraceful—behaviors unfit for a prince of the Fire Nation. And so, the Fire Lord banished him. He was tasked with capturing the avatar,” he noted grimly, turning to Aang. “A purposely impossible mission at the time, since you had been missing for over a hundred years with no sign of returning. It was meant to keep Zuko from ever coming back to the Fire Nation. But Ozai claimed that if Zuko found you and brought you to him, he would restore his son’s honor and welcome him home with open arms.” He looked away, face solemn. “And that is what he’s been trying to do ever since.”

Appa grunted from his shady spot by the river. The air between the four friends suddenly felt cold. It was a lot to process. It explained a few of the things many of them had always been confused about when it came to Zuko, but gave rise to multiple entirely new questions they’d never even thought to consider. Katara lifted her hand toward her left eye.

“Is that…” she began reluctantly. “You said a family member gave that to him—the scar on his face.”

Iroh blinked slowly, miserably. “Yes,” he replied. “His father did that to him. He burned his own son while he lay prostrate before him, pleading for mercy.” His eyebrows furrowed together. “Out of all the horrors I’ve witnessed throughout this war, watching my brother scar and banish that boy is among the cruelest. I doubt the memory will ever leave my mind.”

Shocked silence gripped the group. So that was where Zuko’s scar had come from. Not a training misfire, not some careless childhood mistake—but an intentional brand from his father to mark him as an unwanted outsider. A couple more seconds passed before Sokka scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. 

“This is insane! If Ozai really did do all these terrible things to him, then why is he so obsessed with capturing Aang and returning home? If I was Zuko, I’d be relieved to be banished and away from that psycho. The guy’s a total monster!”

Iroh released a slow breath. “It is hard to understand my nephew’s logic from the outside. But please, try to put yourself in his position. He was cast out—renounced and rebuked by his home and his people, those he had been taught to depend on. His own father disowned him. One tiny mistake cost him everything: the crown, his honor, and his family. Now, exiled from his country, where else can he hope to go? The entire world despises the Fire Nation for the atrocities they have committed. As the banished son of the Fire Lord, no nation is safe for Zuko. He believes his only choice is to bring his father the avatar. That only he can restore everything he lost. That if he can complete the mission Ozai bestowed upon him, their relationship will somehow be different. He thinks he is capable of winning the Fire Lord’s love by delivering you to him. It gives him hope.” 

The old man withered. “I don’t have the heart to tell him the truth, to take that hope away. Even if I did, it wouldn’t change his mind. He would continue this poisonous path without me, searching and fighting until he destroyed himself. I’m doing what I can to support him until he discovers the truth on his own.”

Iroh’s anecdote hung over their heads like storm clouds. Katara narrowed her eyes in thought, drumming her fingers against her bowl. 

“What if he never comes to that conclusion?” she said coldly. “How many more people does he have to hurt or villages does he have to burn down for you to decide he isn’t worth it?”

Iroh met her gaze, his jaw tight. She thought he was going to snarl or shout, like he had in the tent with Zuko. Instead, he relaxed into a smile. 

“He will change. I know it. I’ve seen what he’s capable of. He was such a sweet and happy child before my brother got ahold of him and twisted him up.” He grinned at Aang. “He was a lot like you, actually. Bright and joyful and kind. I wish you all could have seen him then. Perhaps you’d understand why I haven’t given up on him yet.”

“Really?” Aang said, beaming. “Wow. I’m having a hard time imagining that.”

The old man chuckled, then stared across the circle of young faces. “I’m not asking any of you to forgive my nephew for what he’s done. I’m not asking you to make excuses for him or to pity him. I just wanted to grant you some insight into the person he is, and why he acts the way he does today. You’ve already been more kind to him than I ever could have anticipated, which shows what honorable individuals you are. I am forever grateful to each of you.” His expression softened. “Zuko is too, even if he doesn’t seem it. Because of the way he was raised, he can’t comprehend the idea that others would show him compassion without it being earned, or without some sinister ulterior motive in mind. Your kindness is entirely foreign to him, so don’t take his aversion to it personally.”

This was exactly what Katara had been afraid of. That if they learned more about Zuko’s past, they’d start to realize he wasn’t the sick, totally irredeemable person they believed him to be. She wanted to hate him—wanted to see him as nothing but an obstacle in their path, a soulless enemy to defeat. But it was hard to do after hearing his life’s story. 

“If only Zuko had been surrounded by people like you growing up,” Iroh continued wistfully. “You all have such good hearts.”

Sokka swirled his boomerang in the air. “Yeah—too bad we all couldn’t live it up in the Fire Nation palace together, celebrating global tyranny and singing kumbaya around the fire.”  

Iroh hinted a somber smile, then rose to his feet. “I’m going to see if I can get my nephew to eat something,” he said, ladling another helping of soup into his bowl and pouring a second cup of tea. “Have a delightful afternoon, all of you.”

With that, he strolled back into the earth tent, humming a quiet tune to himself. The group was left to wallow in the tsunami of information they now knew about their arch nemesis. 

Eventually, Sokka huffed. “Well, if there’s anything we’ve learned from this bizarre little misadventure, it’s that the Fire Lord is literally the worst in every way imaginable, and deserves everything he’s got coming his way.”

“No kidding,” Toph agreed, cracking her toes.

Aang pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but...I kinda feel bad for Zuko.”

“Don’t,” Katara snapped, scowling at the fire. “We’ve all had hard lives. We’ve all been hurt and lost things we cared about. You don’t see any of us attacking towns or terrorizing innocent people.”

“But we were raised by good people,” Aang pointed out. “Even when we disagreed with them or fought with them, we never doubted that they loved us.” He rested his chin on his knees. “Zuko didn’t have that. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of change.”

“A lot of people are capable of a lot of things,” Katara retorted. “That doesn’t mean they’re ever going to do the right thing and actually commit to being better.”

Aang blinked at her, then gazed into the flickering flames. “Not if you don’t give them the chance...”

He considered telling them the truth about that day in the Earth Kingdom. When Zuko had broken him out of Zhao’s prison, saving his life—and, unknowingly, Sokka and Katara’s. If Aang hadn’t escaped and gotten those frogs to them, they could have died. The only reason the three of them were sitting together today, alive and well, was because of Zuko’s help.

But before Aang had the chance to speak, Katara scoffed and stood, marching toward the river.

“Katara?” he called. “Where are you going?”

“Swimming,” she answered without looking back. “After today, I seriously need a bath.”

He watched her stomp away, then exhaled defeatedly. Maybe he was being naive. Maybe Zuko wouldn’t change. But while the Fire Nation prince was stuck here with them, he’d try his best to be patient and kind to him—perhaps to the point where it no longer felt so foreign.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Iroh went back into the woods to forage for more tea leaves and herbs before the sun went down, leaving Zuko alone in the stone tent. While the others were off busying themselves around their campsite, Aang crept into the dark structure. He intended to pop in for only a moment to grab some nuts from his bag, but froze in the doorway at the sight he stumbled upon. 

Zuko was facing the back wall of the tent, sitting with his legs crossed and his spine straight. Four small candles were arranged in front of him, their flames rising and falling in sync with Zuko’s steady breathing. Aang immediately recognized the familiar scene.

“You’re meditating!” he exclaimed. Zuko flinched in surprise, the candlelight flaring and rippling, casting wild shadows across the walls. He turned on him lividly.

“Don’t scare me like that!” he shouted. “I almost torched you alive!”

“Sorry!” Aang said, grinning shyly as he stepped closer. “But you are meditating, right?”

Zuko huffed and turned back toward the wall, rubbing his wounded shoulder. “I’m trying to,” he said pointedly, re-assuming his sturdy position.

“That’s awesome!” Aang said, bounding to stand by his side. “I never would’ve pegged you as someone who meditates.”

Aang thought he remembered Zuko mentioning meditation back in the South Pole, but it seemed so out of character for him. He never expected to actually witness the hotheaded prince putting it into practice.

Zuko looked uncomfortable and irritated by Aang’s presence. He tried to ignore him, but the avatar wasn’t making it easy. The twelve-year-old stood over him, smiling from ear to ear.

“I meditate too. Every day, in fact! Meditation is a sacred tradition among Air Nomads. The monks always said it’s a great way to strengthen one’s discipline, inner peace, and spirituality.”

The flames danced and flickered, mirroring Zuko’s aggravation. “Then you should know how important it is to be quiet when someone’s trying to concentrate!” He jabbed his finger toward the exit. “Get out of here!”

Aang was beginning to realize that Zuko yelled a lot, but there wasn’t any real bite behind it. At least, not in his current condition. So for now, he wasn’t going to let it faze him. 

Ignoring Zuko’s demands, he plopped down beside him, making the royal teenager start. “Can I meditate with you?”

Zuko blinked, looking appalled. “What?” he gawked. “No!”

“Why not?” Aang asked, settling into his own meditation position with his fists pressed together and his eyes closed. 

“Because—because you’re going to distract me!” he cried. “There’s a million other places for you to do it besides here! Why don’t you go meditate with one of your obnoxious friends?”

“None of them practice meditation,” he explained simply. “Back at the Western Air Temple, me and the other monks used to meditate in a group, all of us sitting and breathing together in perfect harmony. I haven’t meditated with someone else for over a hundred years.” He opened one eye and hinted a sad smile. “I miss it a lot. I think it’d be nice.”

Zuko scowled at him, but it seemed more thoughtful than angry. Scowling also appeared to be a thing he did by default, not as an intentional expression of aggression. He could see him searching for a motive, a scheme, some kind of backhanded revenge plot in the avatar’s innocent request. He really did second guess every gesture of kindness offered to him. 

The firebender looked ready to blow a gasket, or snag his quartet of candles and stomp out the door. Instead, he exhaled forcefully, growling under his breath like a komodo rhino with a headache.

“If you’re quiet enough that I forget you’re here, I don’t care what you do,” he grumbled. 

Aang beamed, flinging his hands in the air. “Hooray!” he cheered. He leaned forward with a grin. “I like your hair, by the way.”

Zuko’s eyes popped open and flitted towards him bewilderedly. “W-what?” he stammered, as if that was the most absurd thing anyone had ever said to him. 

“Your new hair! It looks nice. A lot better than the bald ponytail thing you had going on before. It’s so cute and fuzzy now. I like it!”

Again, Aang watched the wheels in Zuko’s head turn, trying to find some convoluted ploy masquerading behind his friendly words. He couldn’t even take a tiny compliment without drowning in doubt and suspicion? It was as heartbreaking as it was endearing.

Once the prince deduced the avatar’s nice comment posed no immediate threat, but was simply a genuine approval of his change in appearance, his expression softened. “Oh,” he said. He stared at the wall, warmth rising in his cheeks. “Well, um...thanks. I guess.”

“Of course!” Aang chirped. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Zuko sweeping a timid hand through his hair, and felt pretty proud of himself.

“I like your hair, too,” Zuko said after an awkward pause. “Did you...do something new with it?”

Aang stared at him blankly. His delivery was so bland and clumsy, it took the avatar a full five seconds to realize that Zuko was attempting to make a joke. Immediately, he busted out laughing—not because the joke was good, necessarily, but because Zuko had actually tried to make one, and his effort was so hysterically ungraceful. 

“Ehahaha!” Aang cackled, hugging himself around the middle. “Good one, Zuko! I didn’t know you could be funny!”

The tiniest of smiles lifted one corner of Zuko’s mouth before vanishing without a trace. He made an oval with his hands, pressing his thumbs and middle fingers together, then straightened his spine. “Now be quiet,” he ordered bluntly, inhaling and releasing a slow, centering breath. 

Aang grinned and reflected his pose. Zuko was still a little shivery and sweaty from his fever, but both were growing less severe as Uncle’s tea worked its magic. The room fell silent except for the soft flickering of the fire and their synchronous breathing, and stayed that way for the next hour. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The avatar was the first one to break their vigil, floating to his feet and bounding out of the tent like a miniature whirlwind. “Thanks for letting me join you, Zuko!” he called cheerfully, then darted outside.

Zuko...didn’t know what to make of their interaction. He and the avatar were adversaries. He’d told him he wasn’t going to stop hunting him. As soon as he was healed, their little game of cat owl and spider mouse would pick right back up from where it had left off. 

So what had compelled him to come in here and meditate by his side?

Not only that—he’d opened up to him about his past, his culture, the society that raised him. The very people Zuko’s forefathers were responsible for wiping out. Was he trying to appeal to his humanity, guilt him into abandoning his mission to capture the avatar? 

And what was with the whole complimenting his hair thing?

The whole exchange left Zuko feeling off. He didn’t want to think about what would become of that peppy little kid once he delivered him into the hands of his father. Avatar or not, he was so agonizingly young. 

But tricky, as well. And conniving, all of them. Just like Azula. He wouldn’t let them get in his head. For however long he was trapped here, he’d avoid interacting with them unless it was absolutely necessary. He couldn’t afford any more distractions. 

“How are you feeling, Prince Zuko?” Uncle’s voice asked from behind him. “Have you managed to eat or sleep at all? I found some basil and turmeric to add to your tea. I know you don’t care for either, but they should help settle your stomach.”

Zuko turned toward him, grimacing as the movement sent little sparks of pain zipping through his muscles. “I’m going to sleep outside tonight.”

Iroh raised an eyebrow as he prepared the ingredients for the brew. “I don’t know if the avatar and his friends will approve. They wish to keep you contained and in sight, understandably, and—”

“I don’t care what they want!” he interjected. “I’m not sleeping in here with all of them. I won’t be able to.”

Uncle sighed exasperatedly. “Prince Zuko. They are already being very considerate. They’ve given you space and leave you to your business unrestrained.” He wafted the fumes from the pot toward his nose and breathed deeply. “If I were them, I would have chained both of us up. We aren't exactly trustworthy company.”

“I’m not sitting in this stupid tent anymore,” he growled. He braced one hand against the wall and tried to push himself upright, groaning and straining with effort. 

Uncle rushed to his aid, wrapping an arm around his waist and hoisting him to his feet. Zuko wanted to push him away, but there was no way he could stay standing without his help. 

“All right—easy now, nephew.” 

He took one step forward, and almost immediately collapsed. Pain bloomed across the bottom of his foot and shot up his leg like an explosion going off in his bones. He listed forward, dizzy and nauseous, gasping for breath. 

“Do not put any weight on your left side,” Iroh insisted. “Let me support you.”

“Th-this is...infuriating,” he hissed, panting. “Why am I still so weak?”

“It has only been a day, my prince. You must give yourself time to heal.” He slung his nephew’s arm over his shoulder and bore him forward. “Come on. We’ll go slow.”

Any progress toward the exit basically required Zuko to hop on his good leg. The violent motion still jarred him, but he managed to keep going, pausing in between to let the pain subside to a manageable level. Iroh would rather he let one of kids carry him out of the tent, but Zuko would sooner hop himself to death than allow that.

Once they breached the doorway, their little limping routine turned the heads of everyone outside. Katara stood up, hands balled into fists at her side.

“What’s going on?” she said.

“Zuko needed some fresh air,” Iroh explained, grunting beneath his nephew’s weight. He was basically doing all the work required to move him away from the tent. The prince hung off him loosely, grimacing in pain, a line of sweat glistening along his forehead. His face was abnormally pale and blanching whiter and whiter with every cloddish hop forward. 

“Do you need…help?” Sokka asked hesitantly. 

Iroh forced a smile. “No, we—” he began, but Zuko was sagging lower and lower, a quiet moan rising from his lips. “—Zuko? Are you all right?”

The teen’s head was suddenly spinning like a top. Gravity was pulling on him two times stronger than usual. His wounds throbbed and ached in protest. He’d barely walked two steps away from the tent, but apparently that was all his stupid body could tolerate right now. 

“Ugh…can’t…l-lemme...down…” he whimpered.

Alarm pricked Iroh’s heart. “Okay, okay. Here.”

He eased him carefully to the ground. Zuko slumped against the outer wall of the tent, panting harshly, gripping his leg with one hand and his chest with the other. 

“What’s wrong?” Iroh asked, kneeling in front of him and cupping his palm against his pallid face. 

“He doesn’t look good,” Aang noted uneasily.

Once she realized he wasn’t going to be doing anything threatening in his current state, Katara’s muscles uncoiled. “He shouldn’t be moving,” she said, stepping closer. “Especially if he hasn’t been able to eat anything today.”

“He’s been too nauseous to,” the old man said, fear creeping into his voice. He gave his cheek a few light pats. “Zuko—hey! Talk to me! Tell me what’s going on.”

His eyelids fluttered sluggishly as he fought to stay conscious and slow his rapid breathing. “Just...lightheaded,” he slurred, squeezing his shoulder and gritting his teeth. “Ugh...h-hurts…”

Iroh turned to Sokka. “I’ve prepared some tea for him inside the tent. Please—if you could—”

“Right,” Sokka said, hurrying into the stone structure. He reappeared a few moments later with the kettle and cup in hand.

“Thank you,” Iroh breathed. He filled the cup and held it to Zuko’s lips. “Here, nephew. Drink. It will help you feel better.”

Zuko wrinkled his nose but did as he was told. He abhorred the fact that he was acting so pathetic and weak—and in front of his enemies, no less—but he was so woozy, and everything hurt, and he just wanted it to stop. The tea was hot on his tongue and left a sour aftertaste in the back of his throat. He made a face and found himself missing Uncle’s classic jasmine brew. 

“Blech,” he said. 

“I know,” Iroh conceded sympathetically. Katara offered him a bowl, and he lifted the edge to Zuko’s mouth. “Have some water.”

Zuko braved a few small sips then pushed it away. He was still queasy and didn’t want to risk overwhelming his upset stomach. The black fuzz pressing into his peripheral vision was slowly beginning to retreat, and the world was no longer dipping and tilting around him. But he was still so tired. He rested his head against the tent, struggling to keep his eyes open, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth.

“You must try to eat something,” Uncle insisted. “A couple bites of bread, soup—anything.”

Zuko recoiled at the thought of food. It was the last thing he was in the mood for right now. “I’m fine,” he grumbled breathlessly, sweat slipping down his face. “Just...lemme sit for a...a minute…”

“You will never recover your strength unless you eat,” Iroh said softly. He tore a piece of bread in half, took his nephew’s hand, and placed it in his palm. “Please, Prince Zuko.”

The firebender stared at the bread miserably. He looked so ill and weak—even Katara was nicked with pity at the sight. He must’ve been desperate to feel better if he was letting his uncle order him around without throwing a fit. 

Zuko wished there weren’t so many eyes on him right now, watching him lie half-conscious against the tent, barely able to hold his head up, shivering with pain and sickness as he nibbled defeatedly on the bread in his hands. Azula’s mocking voice echoed in his ears—weak, pathetic, miserable failure. Father’s piercing glare bore down on him, radiating disgust and disappointment. 

But Uncle was with him, pressed against his side, telling him everything was going to be okay as he gently guided his head to his shoulder.

“Don’t...wait...” Zuko whined. But once he was leaned against him, he felt himself starting to drift. Sleepiness curled around him like a warm blanket. Iroh pulled the bread from his limp fingers and ran his thumb along his cheek. 

“Just rest here a moment. I will help you move once you have the energy to stand.”

But Zuko made the mistake of closing his eyes. It was meant to be for only a moment, but after they slipped shut, he couldn’t get them to open again. As Iroh anticipated, his nephew was soon asleep. He pulled a rag from his pocket and mopped the fever sweat from his forehead. 

“Did he just...pass out?” Toph asked.

“He hasn’t slept since last night,” Iroh said, watching his nephew snooze against his shoulder with a tender fondness in his eyes. “He’s always been so stubborn, never resting until he’s completely burnt out or unless it is forced upon him—even when his body desperately needs it.”

Aang found the sight endearing. Katara thought the old man’s concern for his nephew was misplaced but sweet. Sokka narrowed his eyes, opening the tea pot and gingerly sniffing its contents. His jaw dropped. 

“Did you drug him?”

Iroh chuckled lightly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “An old trick his mother used to use when he couldn’t get to sleep as a child. Add a tiny dash of dragon thistle root to his tea, and he is out like a light.”

While the others reeled over the old man’s well-intentioned but semi-conniving actions, Katara’s mind honed in on one word: mother. During Iroh’s entire soapbox about Zuko’s past, he’d never once mentioned his mom. What did she think about her son? Was she like Ozai? Cold and heartless, happy to exile her own child in favor of her more powerful daughter? Or was she different? What part did she play in the strange, tragic menagerie of Zuko’s life?

Iroh smiled at the children. “Would one of you please grab a blanket for me, if you don’t mind?” 

“Sure!” Aang said, darting past him. Katara stared at Zuko’s sleeping face and decided not to ask about his mother. She already knew more about him than she wanted to as it was. And the more she learned, the harder it was to hate him.

Aang returned with the linens. Iroh gathered his nephew into his arms and carefully laid him down, tossing the blanket over his body and pulling it up to his chin. 

“Hopefully he sleeps through the night,” he said. It was funny to watch the person they fought and feared as an enemy be treated like a precious little baby by his uncle.

“I’ll heal him again tomorrow morning,” Katara said, then stalked into the tent without another word.

Her friends hesitated, then followed her inside. Iroh stayed beside his nephew, matching his breathing to his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zuko woke up screaming. 

He’d suffered from night terrors since Mom had disappeared without a trace, and they’d only gotten worse since his banishment. He dreamed of her face being swallowed up in flames, of the ground turning to tar beneath him and dragging him into suffocating darkness, of his father scorching his eye again and again and again, the smell and the pain all too real. 

And now, he was dreaming of Azula. Eyes dark and remorseless as she shot lighting into the hearts of those he loved, sending Mom and Uncle toppling to the ground in smoking heaps before turning on him. He was lucky if he got through the night without shooting awake in a cold sweat at least one. 

When the lightning struck him, Zuko bolted upright, a terrified shout leaping from his throat. But something clapped over his mouth to stop it from escaping. Whatever it was was shaped like a hand, but it had the texture of rock. Panicked, fire flared from his fingertips. He made a grab for the stranger’s arm, but something caught his hands before they reached it, trapping them at his sides. He squirmed and cursed, voice muffled, heart racing. 

“It’s okay,” a girl’s voice said. “Shh. It’s me.”

A young face took shape in the darkness. Black hair and pale, faded eyes. It was the tiny earthbender that had showed up at the fight between Azula, the avatar, and himself. She must have joined their group while they were traveling through the Earth Kingdom. So far, the two of them had avoided direct confrontation—or rather, any interaction whatsoever. 

“I heard you. From the tent. And, uh, felt you shaking. I didn’t want you to wake anyone else up.”

Zuko stopped struggling, his breathing quick and his eyes blinking. Slowly, she took her palm away from his mouth. It was shrouded in rock, perhaps in case he tried any breath-related firebending moves. With a flick of her wrist, the earth restraints fell away from his hands. 

“Sorry for scaring you. I just figured you wouldn’t want anyone else hearing that, and I didn’t wanna get fried in the process of shutting you up.”

Zuko studied her in a fuzzy, flustered haze, panting quietly. “Oh,” he stammered. “Uh, r-right.” His bones were quaking under his skin. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears. He scrubbed a hand across his face and started when it came away wet. He touched under his eyes and realized his cheeks were damp with tears. Shame burned up his throat as he dried them frantically and turned away. “Um, s-sorry for waking you.”

She stared at him in silence. Well, not exactly stared—not with her eyes, at least. But he could feel her feeling him, gauging his movements, his voice. She probably knew he’d been crying. She barely looked a day older than the avatar, but exuded the power and poise of a master bender, all while retaining the appearance and quirkiness of a child.

Which was weird. Because as far as he could tell, she was totally blind.

“Well...goodnight,” he said, voice brittle. But she didn’t move. And he didn’t lay back down.

“They have them too, you know.”

He glanced at her bemusedly. “What?”

“Nightmares. They get them too. Aang, Katara, Sokka.” 

He scoffed lightly, rubbing his eyes. “And you don’t?”

She grimaced at the ground. “Not like they do. I had a difficult home life, but...it’s different.”

He gripped his arms at the elbows and stared off to the side. He wasn’t sure what she was looking to get out of this conversation.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

Zuko wrinkled his brow. “About what?” he said.

“Your nightmare.”

Heat flushed across Zuko’s skin. “No,” he said sharply, glaring between his feet. 

Toph shrugged. “That’s fine. Just thought I’d extend the offer. I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”

The girl grinned. Zuko narrowed his eyes. Was that supposed to be a joke? He kneaded gingerly at his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he growled, wincing when he touched a particularly sore spot. “You can go away now.”

“I’m Toph,” she said, ignoring him enthusiastically. “I don’t think we’ve formally met.” 

Why don’t any of these people ever listen to a word I say? he thought bitterly. Also, I’ve never formally met any of you. He heaved a small sigh. 

“Hello,” he deadpanned. “Now get lost.”

“My friends don’t seem to like you, but I judge people for myself.” She flexed her feet in the grass absentmindedly. “And yeah, hunting Aang isn’t cool, but I don’t think you’re as bad as they make you out to be.”

Zuko was caught off guard by her blunt but oddly nice statement. He tried not to let it show, masking his surprise behind a scowl.

“I don’t care what you or your friends think of me,” he snapped, bunching the blanket in his fists. “Just leave me alone!”

“See, you put on this scary, tough facade, but I don’t think that’s really you,” she continued. “It's a defense mechanism.” 

Zuko fumed. “Are you blind and deaf? Go away! You don’t know me. Stop pretending like you do!”

“But I do know you,” she insisted. “You try to push others away so they can never get close enough to hurt you. You think by being mean and abrasive and keeping them at a distance, you’re protecting yourself. But really, you’re just making yourself more lonely.”

The firebender’s heart skipped a beat. Toph could tell she’d struck a chord. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish stranded on land, her words bouncing around in his head, freakishly insightful for someone who barely looked ten. 

“I know you because you’re like me,” she explained. “We’re not good at feelings and all that dumb mushy crap. We think doing everything on our own makes us stronger than accepting help from others. But I’m starting to learn that’s not always true.”

Was she baiting him? Trying to rile him up to the point that he attacked, granting her an excuse to kill him? Or was she truly speaking from the heart? Her observation stung a bit too deep to not be genuine, and sounded a little too familiar for his taste. 

Like Uncle. 

But he refused to dwell on it. He wouldn’t; he couldn’t. Stunned confusion was quickly superseded by prickling irritation. He scoffed indignantly.

“You’re crazy,” he spat. “You’re a child. You don’t know anything.”

Toph crossed her arms and smirked. “Then that makes two of us.”

Flames roiled in Zuko’s belly. “What?”

“Hey!” a voice called from the tent. Zuko turned and spotted Sokka peeking out from the darkness, an angry line twitching between his eyebrows. “Some of us around here are trying to sleep! Why are you guys yelling?” He stepped through the doorway with his boomerang cocked behind his head, glaring sleepily at Zuko. “Is Prince Angry Jerk here causing trouble?”

“I’m not doing anything,” he snarled, gesturing to Toph. “Your obnoxious little friend won’t leave me alone.”

“We’re fine,” she assured him. “I was just informing Zuko that his whole ‘bad guy’ charade is stupid, along with his entire mindset about everything.”

Smoke hissed from his nostrils and coiled from his fists. “Why, you little—”

“Ah-ah!” Sokka interjected, waving his boomerang threateningly. “Don’t even think about it.”

Zuko threw his hands in the air. “What, I’m just supposed to sit here while she calls me stupid to my face?” 

“Precisely,” Sokka said, sitting beside Toph. His hair was out of its usual ponytail and hanging in his eyes, forcing him to tuck it behind his ears every now and then. Zuko had never seen the Water Tribe boy with hair down before. It was a lot longer than he expected. 

Sokka bumped his shoulder against the earthbender’s. “Is this late night insult Zuko hour or something? Because I’m totally in, and very upset I didn’t receive an invitation.”

“I’m not trying to insult him,” Toph insisted. “I’m just telling him the truth.”

“What you’re doing is asking to get fried beyond recognition,” he spat viciously. Sokka leaned toward him and squinted.

“Why are your eyes red?” he asked. His brows shot toward his hairline. “Have you been crying?”

Zuko’s scowl dissolved into a look of panic. He’d tried to push the horrific nightmare from his mind, but the damage it had reaped was evidently still lingering. Drenched in milky moonlight, Sokka had never seen the Fire Nation prince look so scared and distraught before. Humiliation sawed at Zuko’s insides. He grappled for something to say—a quick and scathing retort. But his throat was seizing up, and a fresh bout of tears welled in his eyes.

“I…” he began, voice shivery. Toph punched Sokka in the arm. 

“Lay off,” she scolded him. “He startled me when I came out here to take a whizz, so I kicked dirt in his eyes. That’s all.”

Zuko turned to her in disbelief, blinking. She hinted a small smile that disappeared just as quickly. Relief drizzled over his heart. 

“Oh,” Sokka said, rubbing his shoulder, glancing between them skeptically. “Right.” He recognized immediately that they weren’t telling him what was really going on, but decided not to press the matter. If Toph thought it important to keep under wraps, he trusted her.

Zuko kneaded his eyes with the heels of his hands and avoided his gaze, feeling sticky and exposed. Why would she lie for me? he wondered. How does that benefit her? Wouldn’t she want to humiliate her enemy every chance she got? To show her friends how weak and pathetic he really was? Maybe she wanted him indebted to her. Or to have something over him to use as blackmail. 

Whatever the reason, he was relieved. For now, at least. A part of him wanted to thank her. He stared into her foggy eyes for a moment, hoping she understood. 

Toph responded by crossing her arms and grinning wide. “Anyway, back to you being stupid,” she said spiritedly. 

The prince deflated with a groan. So much for being grateful. “Seriously?” he exclaimed, his rage blossoming back to life. 

“You make no sense to me,” she continued unperturbed. “You're trying to capture Aang and bring him home to your dad so he’ll love and accept you, right?”

Zuko was off-put by the direct address. So was Sokka. The firebender huffed irately. “I’m not talking to you about this.”

“But it sorta seems like he’s been awful to you even before you were banished.”

The prince wasn’t sure how much she or others knew about his situation, but already it sounded like more than he was comfortable with. He gritted his teeth.

“Be quiet!” he barked. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You want a father who cares about you and understands you,” Toph said with a snort. “Trust me: I get it. My parents still think I’m some helpless little blind girl, not a butt-kicking, earthbending champion.” 

Zuko glared daggers through Toph. “Our situations aren’t the same. My father does care about me. Once I bring him the avatar, he’ll accept me as his son, and my honor will be restored.” 

Toph blew a tuft of hair out of her face and dropped her chin into her hand. Sokka rolled his eyes.

“No offense, Prince Jerkbender, but your dad is kind of the worst.”

Zuko turned away from them, hissing with pain and frustration. “This is why I’m not talking to you about this! None of you could ever understand!”

“What we don’t understand is why you’re set on getting your terrible father to like you when you already have someone who loves and accepts you right now!” Sokka cried, exasperated.

A shock went through Zuko’s system. He swallowed, gripping his wound and hunching his shoulders.

“What...w-what are you talking about?” he murmured.

Toph scoffed. “Um...your uncle?” she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the universe. “You know, the guy who left the Fire Nation to help you? Who travels around the world with you and supports you no matter how badly you treat him? The man who makes you tea and comforts you when you’re sick and tucks you into bed at night?”

“And who convinced us to help you even though we really didn’t want to?” Sokka added. 

Zuko’s chest tightened. Anxiety and confusion and an avalanche of other emotions churned inside his gut. He grimaced at the ground.

“He cares about you. Like, openly, aggressively cares about you. It’s as annoying as it is sweet.” Toph tilted her head to the side. “Why are you so determined to earn your dad’s love, when your uncle already loves you as you are?”

The prince didn’t look at them. He watched a beetle crawl over a rock, his fingers shivering against his aching shoulder. He inhaled sharply, then laid across the ground, yanking the blanket over his head and curling into himself. 

Sokka glanced at Toph, then back at Zuko, then sighed. It looked like there was no getting through to him. The earthbender rose to her feet.

“Drink some more of your uncle’s tea,” she demanded, then strode back into the tent. “G’night.”

Sokka was quick to follow her, yawning as he stepped into the darkness, shooting one last look over his shoulder.

Zuko shuddered alone beneath the stars, blinking back tears. A few restless minutes later, he heated up Uncle’s teapot, choked down another cup of boiling, bitter liquid, then nestled against the grass, praying that the rest of his night would be dreamless. That is, if he ever managed to fall asleep again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is it just me, or is Zuko...kind of awkward?”

Katara stopped fixing her hair mid-braid, scoffing. “What? What do you mean?”

Aang stretched and smiled, the morning sunlight pouring in through the doorway gilding his limbs in a golden halo. “Yesterday, while we were meditating, I told him I liked his new hair. And he totally didn’t know how to respond—as if he’s never been complimented by anyone besides his uncle before. It was hilarious!”

Sokka shot upright, mouth hanging agape. “Wait—‘we?’” he exclaimed. “As in, you were meditating together?”

“Yeah! Zuko practices meditation just like me! Isn’t that cool?”

Katara frowned. “That’s...weird. He’s the last person I’d expect to see meditating. Especially with you.”

“I know, right?” Aang giggled. “The best part was, when I told him I liked his hair, he said he liked mine, too. Like, as a joke! Because I’m bald!” He laughed brightly. “It was so bad, but that only made it funnier!”

Katara huffed, tying off the end of her braid. “Well I’m glad you had fun with the guy who’s going to try imprisoning you the moment he can walk again.”

Aang winced at her coldness. “I’m just saying, Katara. If you’re patient and give him the chance, you’ll see there’s more to him than ‘angry scary firebender prince.’ He’s more human than you might think.”

When Katara simply rolled her eyes, Toph decided to speak up.

“So, don’t tell him I told you guys this, but...I had a chat with him last night. He had a really bad nightmare, and the sound of his cries woke me up.”

Sokka hopped to his feet. “Ha! I knew you were lying! I may not have lie-detecting feet, but I know a fib when I hear one.” His excitement was short lived, however. He backtracked with a troubled look, eyeing the doorway. “Oh...does that mean I was right before? You know...about him crying?”

Aang’s eyes bulged out of his head. “Wait—Zuko was crying?” 

Everyone’s gazes veered toward Toph. The tiny earthbender nodded solemnly, her expression grim. “He was screaming in his sleep. I had to cover his mouth to stop him from waking all of you up.” She scratched the back of her neck. “He was...calling for his mom. Begging her to come back. I don’t know what happened to her, or what their relationship is like, but…” she shook her head. “It was really sad.”

Silence veiled the room. Again, Katara felt torn in half by her usual eagerness to help those in pain and her hatred toward Zuko. Sokka put his hair up and placed his hands on his hips.

“The guy’s got a lot of issues, that’s for sure. Do I feel bad for him? Maybe, a little. Does it make me trust him any more than I did before? Absolutely not.” 

“Exactly,” Katara said, glad she had her brother were back on the same page. Aang crossed his arms against his chest.

“But he has shown us he has more than one side. You guys saw more of his vulnerable side, and I got to see part of his calm and awkward side.” He snickered into his hand. “Man, you should’ve seen his face! He has no idea how to take a compliment. I don’t think anyone’s ever called him cute before.”

Katara stuck out her tongue. “Who would ever have a reason to?”

“Oh, come on! You have to admit his new haircut is better than his old one!”

Sokka snorted. “I think anything is better compared to that disaster, so you’re setting the bar pretty low.”

Aang beamed between his friends. “You all should try complimenting him sometime, if only to see his response. It catches him completely off guard.”

Sokka blew a raspberry and walked outside, stretching his arms over his head. Katara wrinkled her nose at Aang’s chipper attitude toward all of this. How many times did she have to remind him that Zuko was their enemy who wanted nothing more than to see him in chains. Even if she liked his new look, and had maybe had to stop herself from touching his hair while he was unconscious and no one else was around to see (it just looked so fuzzy!), no way would she ever say so out loud. 

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” she snapped. “Under no circumstances would I ever consider that monster cute.”

At that moment, Sokka popped back into the tent, looking both shocked and delighted at the same time. “Guys, you have got to come see this,” he said.

Katara and Aang exchanged a glance before following him. Toph came along too, although she had a feeling she already knew what he was referring to, based on the cluster of mismatched vibrations her feet were picking up.

The three friends tailed Sokka outside and stopped when they discovered a giant fluffy mountain resting in the sunrise. Appa had moved from his spot by the river and was now lying beside the earth tent. His ears perked up as they approached, but he didn’t raise his head. Aang didn’t understand what all the fuss was about, until Sokka coaxed him forward.

“Look,” he snickered. 

Katara and the avatar peered over Appa’s large foot to find a very bizarre sight. A bunch of animals were gathered between Appa’s front legs—a skink quail, a prickle snake, a pair of dragonflies, and a family of turtle ducks, which was strange in itself. But underneath the zoo of wildlife was Zuko, curled up and sleeping peacefully with all the animals snuggled against him, as if they were his babies and he was their teenage firebending mama. Even Momo was there, nestled in the crook of Zuko’s neck and shoulder, purring contently. 

“What the…?” Aang said, blinking.

“Right?” Sokka giggled.

“What exactly am I looking at right now?” Katara asked, her hands flying to her mouth in horror. “Oh no. He’s not—they’re not—eating him, are they?”

“He’s not dead, if that’s what you're asking,” Toph assured her. “His breathing and heartbeat actually feel better than they did yesterday.”

“They look like they’re just...cuddling him,” Aang said. He cupped his palms over his heart, melting with endearment. “Awww! That’s so sweet!”

“But why are they doing it?” Katara asked. The prickle snake was coiled into a spiral and resting on top of his belly. The four turtle ducks were pressed against his back, their tails tucked underneath his side. While the dragonflies occupied both of his arms, the skink quail burrowed itself in the bend of his knees. Appa had his nose against his shoulder blades and his toes under his head and feet, his deep breaths stirring Zuko’s hair. 

Okay, it was cute. Sue her. It still made no sense.

“Maybe he...smells good?” Sokka suggested dubiously. “From something in his uncle’s tea?”

Aang sprung on top of Appa’s head and petted his fur. “Whatcha doing with Zuko, buddy? Do you like him? Does he smell nice?”

“Maybe it’s because of his fever,” Toph suggested, pressing one hand against the ground. “He still feels a lot warmer than the rest of you.”

“So they’re snuggling him to sap his fever heat?” Katara said, fighting back a smile. It was oddly endearing—watching the prince sleep, his wiry shape buried in woodland creatures. He looked like a spoiled little kid surrounded by toys, or some kind of mystical forest spirit communing with nature. 

“Here Momo,” Aang called, hanging off Appa’s horn to try to scoop him up. Momo growled and hissed in protest, pressing closer to Zuko. His squirmy movements roused the slumbering firebender, making him wrinkle his brow and release a quiet moan. 

Zuko blinked sluggishly, the grass and the flowers poking up from the earth gradually coming into focus. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, feeling clusters of tiny bodies shift with his movements. Oh, great, he thought. Not again. He pushed himself upright, grimacing from a sudden jolt of pain, careful not to squish any of the little creatures around him. When he lifted his bleary gaze, he was surprised to find four pairs of eyes gazing back, wide with confusion.

“Ah!” Zuko yelped, flinching backwards sharply. The turtle ducks and the dragonflies sprung away from him for a moment, then quickly reconvened, nuzzling against his limbs. Momo hopped on to his scalp, pawing at his messy bedhead, but Zuko barely seemed to notice. His shock shifted to puzzled anger. “What on earth? Why are all of you watching me sleep? Don’t you know how creepy that is?”

Sokka shrugged dramatically. “Huh, gee, I don’t know. Maybe because we walked out here to find you having a giant cuddly slumber party with an entire petting zoo’s worth of animals.”

“Which for some reason doesn’t seem to be weirding you out,” Katara added, watching Momo growl at the dragonflies from on top of Zuko’s head. 

Aang and Toph giggled at the peculiar scene. Zuko glared between them lazily, stifling another yawn.

“It happens sometimes when I sleep out in the open,” he mumbled. “I don’t know why.” He winced when Appa nudged him in the back with his nose, as if he hadn’t noticed the enormous flying bison looming over him until now. Momo leapt from his head to his shoulder and licked his cheek. 

“Wait—you mean this is a regular thing for you?” Aang floated to the ground in front of him, beaming. “Waking up and being surrounded by a bunch of animals?”

Zuko shrugged, scratching at his disheveled hair. “Sorta.” 

The four friends just stared at him. He began to realize how strange this probably looked to people who didn’t have to deal with it on the regular. He cringed when Appa’s giant tongue lapped across the entirety of his back, plastering him in sticky saliva. 

“Ugh! Gross!” Zuko shoved the bison’s enormous nose in disgust. “Get your slobbery pets away from me!”

“They like you!” Aang insisted, eyes sparkling. “Wow! You’re like an animal whisperer! Look at you, surrounded by cuddly wildlife! You’re so cute!”

To everyone’s delight, Zuko’s cheeks turned pink. Aang hadn’t been joking about the whole ‘can’t take a compliment’ thing.

“I’m not—it’s not—cute,” he grumbled. “It’s annoying.” 

Frowning, he scooped the family of turtle ducks in his arms and placed them to the side, trying to look careless and angry while also being noticeably gentle. As soon as their feet touched the ground, they scurried back up his legs and into his lap with a chorus of quacks and chirps. His look of surprise made all four of them burst out laughing. Sokka grinned smugly. 

“Face it, Zuko. You’re a prissy little prince whose angry royal yelling attracts flocks of baby animals to snuggle you to sleep. If that’s not cute, I don’t know what is.”

Zuko’s cheeks went from pink to red. Until now, none of them had ever seen the firebender full-on blush before. Couple that with the dragonflies flanking his sides, the skink quail fluffed against his knee, the prickle snake slithering toward his neck, and the turtle ducks quacking incessantly at Momo, it was a scene all of them wanted painted and framed to treasure forever. One of the dragonflies prodded at his hand, asking to be pet, and he begrudgingly obliged.

“Whatever,” he muttered shyly. “It’s not like I try to make them come. They just show up.”

Toph hummed in thought. “I figured they were snuggling you because of your fever, but if this happens pretty often, then I don’t know what’s causing it.”

“I’m telling you, it’s a royalty thing. Wild animals just really like aristocrats. Especially ones that sing.” Sokka leaned toward Zuko suspiciously. “Can you sing? Come on—belt out a tune for me.”

Ignoring him, Zuko lifted Momo off his shoulder and placed him on the ground. “I don’t feel like I have a fever anymore,” he said. “I think it broke last night.” The lemur warbled in disappointment and scampered away.

His chills were gone, along with the skull-splitting migraine. Now he only had the aches and pains of his lightning wound to worry about. It wasn’t much of an improvement, but it was better than no progress at all.

“You still feel warm to me,” Toph said skeptically. Katara reached forward and held her hand against his forehead, making him wince in surprise.

“Definitely warm,” Katara agreed. Zuko pulled away from her touch sourly.

“I don’t have a fever,” Zuko snapped. “I’m just naturally hot.”

Katara blinked at him. Sokka snorted behind his hand. 

“Oh, is that so?” he snickered.

Zuko narrowed his eyes bemusedly. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s a firebender thing. We tend to run hotter than regular people.” He pushed at the dragonfly that was nibbling his ear. “But I’m unusually hot for some reason. Like, more so than normal firebenders.”

Now everyone was giggling. Zuko glanced between them with a puzzled frown, the double-sidedness of his words clearly not registering.

“What?” 

Sokka waved dismissively, clutching his stomach. “Oh, nothing,” he chuckled. “That’s just a pretty bold statement to make about yourself.”

One of the turtle ducklings scuttled on top of Zuko’s leg. He stroked its tiny head with his thumb unconsciously, scowling. 

“No it’s not,” he insisted. “It’s the truth. My uncle said so.”

Now the four kids were howling. Zuko started, eyes wide, then scoffed, balling his hands at his sides.

“What is so funny?”

“Are you sure your uncle’s not just saying that because he’s obligated to?” Katara giggled. 

Toph cackled with her arms crossed. “Personally, I trust Iroh’s opinion. If he says Zuko’s hot, then I’ll take his word for it.”

Aang and Sokka doubled over with laughter, hugging their bellies as their shoulders bounced up and down. Zuko’s face burned as the realization gradually dawned on him. 

“No, wait, th-that’s not what I…!” he began, but no one was listening to him. They were all too busy giggling like children at his simple slip-up. He sighed irritably, plucking the prickle snake from his shoulder and placing it in his palm. “You’re all so immature. You know I was talking about temperature...”

“Whatever you say, Prince Hotman,” Aang chuckled, bowing extravagantly. Zuko blushed and avoided their gazes, petting the snake bitterly. 

“Aren’t you scared it’s going to bite you?” Toph asked, pointing to the serpent in his hand. “Prickle snakes are venomous.”

Zuko looked down at the small reptile. “They never have before,” he said casually, letting it curl and slither around his wrist. 

“I think they like how warm you are,” she said. “That’s why they cuddle up to you to sleep. I guess it was pretty chilly last night.”

Without warning, Aang hopped over Appa’s leg and wrapped Zuko in a hug, making the prince recoil uncomfortably.

“Hey! W-what are you—?” he stammered.

“You’re right, Toph! He is really warm!” Aang nuzzled his head into Zuko’s shoulder, closing his eyes and grinning wide. “No wonder all the animals want to snuggle you! You’re like a big, cozy space heater!”

“Get off me!” he snapped, squirming and pushing the clingy airbender. The dragonflies hissed in protest, the turtle ducks squawked furiously, and the skink quail puffed into an angry little ball, cuing Appa to let out a guttural roar.

Feathers exploded from the skink quail as it took flight, flapping and fluttering in terror. The dragonflies screeched and zipped into the sky as the prickle snake sprung out of his hand and slithered into the brush. Quacking frantically, the turtle ducks scurried out of the prince’s lap, gunning for the river. In a matter of moments, all of the wildlife had fled the scene. Zuko blinked in surprise as Appa licked his hair, satisfied with his work. 

“Appa! How rude!” Aang scolded the bison, his arms still curled around the wriggly firebender. “Space heaters are meant to be shared!”

“I am not a space heater!” Zuko retorted, shoving Aang’s face away with both hands. The others weren’t sure whether they should be concerned or amused. It was a pretty funny sight, watching the two diametrically opposed benders squabble like little kids. 

To add to the humor of the situation, it was at that moment that Zuko’s stomach decided to release a long, loud growl. He and Aang both froze, startled by the sudden noise. Then the avatar laughed brightly. 

“It sounds like the space heater needs some fuel!” he giggled, releasing Zuko from his hold and flitting on top of Appa’s foot. Zuko stared sideways sheepishly, gripping his belly, still rattled by the random cuddle attack. His stomach continued to rumble against his fingertips, pleading for anything besides tea. He’d forgotten that he’d hardly eaten yesterday. Now that he was no longer nauseous, he was really beginning to feel the effects. 

“Do you have an appetite at all?” Katara asked. “We have fish and berries and a little bit of bread. You need to get some food in your system if you can.”

Zuko shrugged, trying to look casual. “I guess,” he mumbled. A second later, his tummy practically roared, causing heat to rush to his ears. 

“I think the monster in your stomach speaks for itself,” Sokka snickered. His friends chuckled alongside him. Zuko squeezed his belly tighter, as if he could smother it into silence. 

Katara tugged on the avatar’s sleeve. “Aang, why don’t you go grab him some breakfast while Sokka and I move him into the tent?”

Aang brightened. “Okay!” He formed a ball of air underneath his body and sprung onto it, balancing on top with one foot and zipping away like some kind of crazy performer in a freaky circus act. Toph followed after him, yawning and stretching.

Zuko looked uneasy as the two Water Tribe siblings approached. Appa nuzzled his back with his nose in an almost encouraging manner. 

“Can you walk at all, or do you want us to carry you?” 

The prince glowered. “I’m not going back in the tent,” he hissed. “And you’re not carrying me.” 

“You need another healing session. I figured you’d want some privacy.” Katara rolled her eyes. “But if you want to do it out here, grouchy pants, we can.”

Zuko thought on it for a moment. He supposed he’d prefer not having eight eyes watching as the Water Tribe girl put her weird glowy healing hands all over him. He looked up at the bison, who had angled his head toward him in an oddly convenient manner.

“Fine,” he mumbled. He grabbed hold of Appa’s horn and used it to lift his body off the ground, straining and sputtering. Once he was upright, he sagged against the fluffy monster, sweat beading across his brow, face flushed with effort. Appa stayed still for him, perfectly content being a two-ton support stand for the tiny, warm human. 

Katara and Sokka shared a look before flanking Zuko on either side, wrapping their arms under his and bearing the majority of his weight. They walked him toward the tent, letting his feet touch the ground so he didn’t feel like he was being carried even though that was essentially what was happening.

“Wow, Aang was right,” Sokka observed. “You are really warm. Just like a—”

“If you say space heater, I’m lighting your hair on fire,” Zuko grated out. 

Katara gaped. “If you even think about lighting my brother’s hair on fire, your ungrateful butt is going in the river.”

“Yeah,” Sokka chuckled. “The fishies need a turn cuddling Prince Hothead.”

Zuko grumbled something under his breath, but didn’t have the energy to banter. He hated having to be cared for and escorted around by his stupid enemies. The Water Tribe siblings in particular both annoyed and puzzled him. He’d never seen a brother and sister get along so well, let alone be protective of each other. Azula would never in a million years defend him if he were in trouble; she’d be watching from the front row with a bowl of fire flakes, cheering for his demise, if not trying to kill him herself. Similarly, for as long as he’d known them, Ozai and Iroh had always been rivals first, relatives second. Being dual heirs to the Fire Nation throne just gave you another person to compete with, to fear, to suspect of plotting your assassination. Royal Fire Nation siblings were never allies, and certainly not friends.  

He and Azula had been playmates when they were kids, of course. As a child, Zuko had protected his little sister whenever and however he could. But that only lasted until they began to understand who they were—what they were. Until Azula no longer needed his protection. Until he needed protection from her. 

If it came down to it, if it was life or death, would he still defend her? Or would he let her get what she deserved?

Even after getting zapped into oblivion by his sister, it was hard to say. 

“Where’s my uncle?” Zuko asked through his teeth as they led him into the tent.

“He went to a nearby town to get supplies,” Sokka replied. “He said he was looking for ingredients for some kind of burn balm for you.”

Sokka eyed him in a way that screamed you know, because he actually cares about you, unlike a certain son-banishing Fire Lord I know? 

Zuko turned away from his gaze and glared at the ground. He hoped Uncle would find what he needed and get back here soon. Whatever medicine he’d put on his eye in the infirmary three years ago had significantly sped up his recovery.

“How are you feeling right now, overall?” Katara asked. She and her brother helped him sit against the wall. He held his shoulder and panted softly, his face gnarled with pain. 

“Like I got struck by lightning two days ago,” he muttered.

Sokka barked out a laugh. Katara frowned at him. He withered beneath her glare. “What?” he said defensively. “It was funny! Wasn’t that supposed to be funny?”

“Why don’t you go harvest some nuts or something?” Katara said, pushing him toward the exit. Sokka dug his heels into the ground, narrowing his eyes at the injured prince. 

“You’re okay being alone with him?” Sokka asked. “What if he firebends at you?”

Katara scoffed in Zuko’s direction. “Don’t worry,” she insisted. “I’m more than capable of handling him myself.”

Zuko scowled, even though he knew she was right. Sure, he could get a surprise attack in—two, if he was lucky. But she’d easily counter with a lash of frozen water, rendering him immobile (and possibly eating the floor) in seconds, if not dead. She had gotten obnoxiously better at fighting since visiting the Northern Water Tribe. She was now one of the biggest threats he encountered when confronting their team, even when he wasn’t half-fried and barely able to walk. In his current state, he didn’t stand a chance. 

It wasn’t like he was planning to attack her—not right now, at least. Still. These were the anxieties constantly seething through his mind. In the event he needed to overpower her, it was scary to realize he probably couldn’t. Why did Uncle think it was okay to leave him all by himself with these people? The old man was far too trusting. 

Sokka wrinkled his nose. “Okay,” he relented, giving Katara a quick hug. Then he jabbed a finger at Zuko. “Don’t try anything funny or fiery with my sister, or you’ll be sorry. Got it?”

Zuko stared between them bemusedly, then offered a short nod. Sokka puffed up his chest and marched out of the tent, leaving the waterbender and the firebender alone inside. 

Once her brother’s footsteps had faded out of earshot, Katara turned to the prince with sharp eyes and an expression he couldn’t quite read. She popped open her pouch and streamed the water around her hands, cycling a slow breath through her lungs. 

“Let’s get this over with,” she said, and kneeled beside him. She pressed both palms to the wound on his chest and let the water flow over and into the burnt flesh, tracking the damage as it traveled through his body. Zuko tensed at first, the strange, cold feeling taking him by surprise. But as the pain began to ebb away—the stings, the aches, the twinges, all of it—he allowed himself to relax. Well, as much as he could relax with a Water Tribe girl who hated his guts sitting uncomfortably close to him with her hands on his chest. 

As the two sat in awkward silence, Zuko considered the possibility that choosing to be alone with Katara while she healed him was worse than being out in the open. 

“How long is this going to take?” he asked, shooting brief glances at her hands, but mostly just staring at the ground. 

“About twenty minutes, if you stay still,” she answered. Hardly a minute had passed, and already Katara knew she preferred healing an unconscious Zuko over an awake one. When he was asleep, she didn’t have to worry about breaking the tension, or tip-toeing around his injury, or those deadly golden eyes watching her every move. She didn’t even have to acknowledge that he was Zuko, their nemesis. He was just a body that needed to be healed. A broken pile of muscle and skin for her to mend with waterbending. It was like working with one of those dummies the Northern Water Tribe women had practiced and demonstrated their healing abilities on. Treating him while he was unconscious was easier because she didn’t have to think of him as a person. It was more like fixing a machine.

Zuko’s piercing stare lingered on her hands a little longer than she liked. Maybe she should get him to drink more of his uncle’s knock-out tea. Anything to escape the growing balloon of discomfort suffocating the air between them.

“How...are you doing that?” he inquired carefully, the glow from her waterbending glinting in his eyes. She weighed the question in her mind before choosing her reply. 

“Some waterbenders have healing abilities,” she said. “Lucky for you, I’m one of them.”

Zuko studied her for a second before looking away. “I’ve never heard of that before.”

“Maybe you would have, if the Fire Nation hadn’t killed nearly every last waterbender in the South Pole.”

Zuko’s eyes flitted wide for a moment before dropping to the floor. He swallowed, his hands fidgeting in his lap.

“I’m sorry.”

Katara’s steady hand movements wavered. She lifted her gaze to his. Now that she knew the story behind his scar—the malevolent forces and people who had allowed the prince to be permanently branded so cruelly—she found it difficult to tear her eyes away from it. She’d never noticed how painful it looked. How the scorched, leathery skin stood out so drastically against the rest of his young, unblemished face. He could be two totally different people, depending on which side of him you were looking at. Staring at him now made her stomach clench. It felt like she was seeing him—truly seeing him—for the very first time. 

The apology had caught her off guard. So much so, she didn’t realize how long she’d been gazing at him until he turned toward her. A flash of realization crossed his face.

“My—my sister didn’t give me this one too, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Katara glanced away quickly, feeling rude. “N-no, that’s not…” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Sorry.”

Zuko gave a small shrug. “It’s fine,” he said, although his expression told a different story. 

She went back to healing his shoulder. Now she was purposely not looking at his face, which somehow felt just as awkward. A full minute passed before either of them spoke again.

“Does it still hurt?” she asked quietly.

Zuko blinked at her. “What?”

“Your eye. Does it still hurt sometimes?”

A line formed between his brows. “It’s a scar,” he said.

“Is that a no?”

He shifted in place, looking thoughtful and uneasy. He reached up and grazed the burned skin with his fingertips. “I guess I sometimes think it’s hurting, but...I don’t think it’s real.” 

Katara nodded solemnly. “Sokka has a scar on his back like that. He fell out of a canoe as a kid and landed on a sharp patch of ice. It really rattled him, and he says it still stings from time to time. But he thinks it’s all in his head.”

Zuko looked down at her hands again. “Do you think it’s all in his head?”

The waterbender pursed her lips in thought. Then she lifted her shoulders somberly. “Does it matter? It still hurts him. Except there’s nothing I can do to make it better.”

The prince had a curious expression on his face, like he wanted to understand what she was saying while also knowing he never would. This was the longest she’d ever seen him go without boasting his signature scowl. 

“You and your brother care a lot about each other,” he said warily. Not as a question, but a stated fact. An observation. 

“Of course we do,” she said, almost laughing. Zuko eyed his shoulder wound dismally. 

“Must be nice,” he murmured. 

Katara followed his gaze and grimaced. “Oh,” she said. She’d almost forgotten it was his sister who had nearly electrocuted him to death.

“I guess not all siblings were meant to get along like you two.”

Katara couldn’t imagine not being friends with her brother. Sure, they’d had their fair share of spats and squabbles, as all siblings were bound to have. But to honestly, genuinely hate each other? To see him as an enemy rather than her most trusted companion? To not have each other’s backs through thick and thin, in every trial they’d faced together? 

And to actually try to kill each other…the absurdity of the concept blew her mind.

But she and Sokka weren’t Zuko and Azula. 

“I guess not,” she said softly. Her hands moved to hover directly over the gruesome injury. “Still...I can’t believe your own sister did this to you.”

“Have you met Azula?” Zuko scoffed. 

Katara narrowed her eyes. “If you had the chance, would you kill her?”

Zuko lifted his gaze and blinked. A flicker of uncertainty touched his irises—one that scared both of them. Then his expression clouded over.

“No,” he said adamantly, swallowing. “But if she was in danger dying, I don’t know if I’d save her.”

Silence shrouded the room. In that moment, it occurred to Katara that she was doing the exact thing she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do. She was interacting with Zuko like he was a normal human being, not their sworn enemy. Not the person who had tried to imprison her friend over and over. Not the prince of the most bloodthirsty nation on the planet. She cursed herself for so carelessly letting him in, for actually feeling bad for him. 

She set her jaw and refocused her attention on his wound. She wouldn’t let herself slip again.

“We saved you,” she pointed out coldly. “Because unlike you and Azula, we’re actually good people.”

She felt Zuko tense and saw his hand curl into a fist out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t react. She continued to begrudgingly heal his injury, moving her palms along his collarbone. 

Unbeknownst to her, Zuko was actually glad she’d decided to insult him the same moment her hands changed position on his body. The feeling of the water healing his wound fanned outwards from wherever her palms touched, strange and cool and tingly—perfectly fine when it was just over his shoulder. But as she inched toward his neck, the tingly sensation started crawling up the sensitive skin, spreading underneath his chin. In an instant, the feeling went from soothing and mystical to tickling him like a feather. Zuko soon found himself clenching his teeth and coiling his muscles in attempt not to laugh, a position he had not anticipated being in. When it grew too much to handle, he jerked away, gripping his throat.

Katara winced in surprise, her water-coated hands hanging in the air. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Zuko blinked. “Um.” His face suddenly felt warm. How was he going to explain this? He rubbed his tingling skin nervously. “It just—hurt. I’m sore there.”

“Where? On your neck?” She reached toward his throat, but he flinched back from her touch. A line formed between her eyes. “Let me see. I might be able to help.”

“It’s fine,” he snapped. “I just tweaked it. It doesn’t need your freaky magic hands.” If that tingly feeling was pressed directly against his neck, he was certain he’d fall to pieces in seconds. He was embarrassingly sensitive, as Uncle had recently (and obnoxiously) discovered, and he had no desire for anyone else to find out—especially his enemies. He’d sooner let Azula fry his other shoulder than let that happen.

Fortunately for him, Katara didn’t press the issue. “Fine,” she said, letting her hands fall to her sides. “I’m done with the wound on your chest for now anyway.”

Zuko breathed a sigh of relief. Bullet: dodged.

“Now I can start on your foot.”

A spark of alarm shot up Zuko’s spine. His eyes popped open as she moved to sit by his feet.

“W-what?” he exclaimed. 

Katara gave him a questioning look. “Your foot,” she said, pointing. “It needs to be healed, too. You know, the one you can hardly put any weight on?” She gave his sole a light tap, causing dread to rise in his belly. “The lightning entered your chest, traveled down your left side, and exited out of the bottom of your left foot. The scar on it matches the one on your chest—it’s just smaller.”

Just the thought of that tingling sensation spreading across his sole was enough to make him twitchy. Zuko swallowed, worrying his thumbs in his lap. “Do you…have to heal it?” he asked timidly.

Katara frowned at him. “I mean, yeah. If you ever want to walk normally again.”

It took a moment for the change in his demeanor to catch her attention. He looked shy and fidgety all of sudden, as if he was about to give a speech but had forgotten his notes, and he was doing absolutely everything he could to avoid her gaze. His face also had a slight pink tint to it, like he’d been holding his breath. 

“Is something wrong?” she finally asked him. Zuko hesitated before shaking his head. He was doomed either way, but he refused to confess what was really going on. If he kept his mouth shut, at least there was a chance he could find the strength to stay composed—perhaps enough for her not to notice. 

Katara studied him for a few more puzzled seconds before shrugging it off and getting to work. She used one hand to hold his ankle steady while the other brought the water to his sole. The scar was in the center of the ball of his foot, just above his arch and right below his toes, which was why Zuko was having so much trouble walking on it. His leg would probably be stiff for a while, but she could heal it enough for him to at least start putting some weight on it again. 

But barely two seconds into the healing session, Zuko yanked his foot out of her grip. She flinched and looked up at him, narrowing his eyes.

“What are you doing?” she asked irritably. “I told you, you have to stay still.”

Zuko had his hands shoved under his armpits and his lips pursed tight. “Oh, r-right,” he said. His voice was pitched slightly higher than normal. When he didn’t return his foot to her, she grabbed his ankle and dragged it back to its original position. 

“Don’t move,” she demanded, and pressed her glowing palm against his sole again.

Easy for you to say! Zuko thought miserably. The tingly sensation revved back to life, sprawling down his heel and between his toes. It felt like his entire foot was being brushed with tiny, magical feathers. Even worse, it hurt to curl his arch or scrunch up his toes, so he really couldn’t move other than ripping his foot away or kicking her in the face, which he was seriously considering.

A flood giggles started building behind his lips. He twitched and snorted and slapped a palm over his mouth before tearing his foot away from her tingly touch. Katara huffed exasperatedly, balling her hands into fists.

“What is your problem?” she shouted. “What part of ‘don't move’ and ‘stay still’ do you not understand?”

Zuko’s ears felt like they were on fire. He hugged his knee skittishly, grappling for an excuse. “I don’t—I’m not trying to,” he stammered, rubbing his heel against the ground. 

“Then why do you keep doing it?”

The prince crossed his arms close to his chest. “Because—” he said, biting his lip. “I just—I don’t...like how it feels.”

Katara raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like how it feels?” she parroted mockingly. “You didn’t mind how it felt when I was healing your chest. Why is this any different?”

Zuko didn’t answer. The firebender was noticeably flustered—hands restless, shoulders hunched. Clearly there was something bothering him that he wasn’t letting on about. Katara’s expression softened.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she said, changing her tone. Zuko was in a pretty vulnerable position. Even if he was evil, he still felt pain the same way she and all her friends did. As a healer, she had to acknowledge that. She sighed levelly. “But you need to stay still so I can heal you properly.” The waterbender nodded towards his foot. “Is it hurting when I heal you? Is that why you keep jumping away?”

Zuko shook his head. “N-no, it’s not...” he mumbled, scratching his forearm nervously. His eyes stayed locked on the ground, as if it would disappear from underneath him if he dared look away. “It’s just...weird.”

“Weird?” she said.

“Yeah.”

“Weird how?”

“You know...weird.”

Katara scoffed. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Forget it,” Zuko growled, scowling between his feet. “I’ll let it heal naturally.”

“You’ll have a limp for the rest of your life if you do that.”

A grimace crawled across his face. Zuko shifted uncomfortably, weighing the two evils in his mind.

“Just tell me why you can’t keep still,” Katara insisted. “Use your words, your highness. Does it sting? Does it burn? Is it making your skin pruny? What?”

“It doesn’t matter, okay?” he snapped. “It feels weird, so I’m not staying still.” He turned away bitterly. “Why don’t you learn how to heal in a way that doesn’t feel weird?”

The waterbender stared at him with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. She placed her hands on her hips. “You’re being a spoiled little brat right now, you know that?”

Zuko continued glaring at the wall, his stomach rumbling quietly. Katara sighed.

“Fine,” she said. She stood and walked out of the tent, disappearing into the sunshine. Zuko watched her go, blinking. Had she given up? Maybe she had another way to heal him that didn’t require tingly waterbending magic. He exhaled slowly and stretched out his legs, allowing himself to relax a little. 

The moment he did, two bands of earth rose up from the ground and wrapped around his ankles, trapping his feet in place. At the same time, the wall opened up behind him and swallowed his arms from the elbows down, pinning his hands behind his back. Zuko yelped in surprise, straining against the newly formed bonds as Katara re-entered the tent, tailed by Toph.

“Hey! W-what are you doing?” He tugged and pulled to try to free his arms, grunting with effort.

Katara smirked. “Making you stay still so I can heal you, of course.” 

Zuko gawked. Uh oh. Trying not to laugh when he could pull away from the tickling sensation anytime it grew too intense was already hard enough as it was. But trying not to laugh when he couldn’t escape it at all? Not good. 

“Now I can make sure you’re up and walking again in no time.” Katara grinned at the earthbender. “Thanks, Toph.”

“Sure,” Toph replied, looming over the trapped firebender smugly. Zuko blanched, squirming even more.

“Th-this is absurd! Let me go!” The prince wrenched and fought with all his might, but it was clear he wasn’t going anywhere. He was thoroughly, entirely pinned. Even at his full strength, he doubted he’d be able to escape Toph’s rock-cuffs.

“Relax, Squirmy,” Toph chuckled. “You’re in good hands. Katara knows what she’s doing.”

She most certainly does not, he thought skittishly. Not yet, at least. And I’d really prefer to keep it that way! He twisted and turned as the Water Tribe girl sat by his feet again, reaching for his now defenseless sole. Anxiety leapt into Zuko’s throat.

“Wait!” he cried. “I’ll—I’ll be still. I promise.” He fidgeted sheepishly. “Just...let me out of this.”

Katara had no idea what was causing him to act so strange and frantic. She’d never had anyone respond to her healing sessions this way. But as entertaining as it was, she’d had enough of it. 

“I’m sure you would, Zuko,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But this guarantees it.”

With that, she pressed her palm to his foot and willed the water to mend the damaged flesh. It was a lot easier to do now that he wasn’t pulling away every two seconds.

Once she got into her usual healing rhythm, she looked up at Zuko, expecting the assuage to calm his bizarre uneasiness. Instead, she found him with his face buried in his shoulder as his cheeks burned bright red. 

“Zuko?” she said, startled. “What’s wrong?”

The prince shook his head, his body shivering like his fever had returned. He was trying his best to hide his face, but she could see enough to notice he was smiling, although it looked like he was fighting it with every ounce of his being.

“Why are you smiling?” she asked, the corners of her own lips lifting in puzzled amusement. She didn’t think she’d ever seen the grumpy firebender actually, genuinely smile before. It was a nice look on him, even when he was trying desperately to conceal it. He was also making a bunch of funny little noises—stifled squeaks and snorts he was struggling to keep at bay. At the same time, he was twitching and wriggling sporadically, as if his pants were crawling with centibeetles.

“He’s smiling?” Toph asked, mirroring Katara’s grin. Curiously, Katara’s gaze dropped to his foot. She moved her hand down his sole and gently fluttered her fingers against the center of his arch. Zuko’s wild reaction confirmed her hilarious hypothesis. 

“Ahack!” the prince yelped, his entire body going rigid. He whirled on her bewilderedly. “Dohon’t do that!”

Katara’s face lit up with delight. “No way. You’re ticklish?” She scribbled her nails toward his heel, making Zuko squeak and writhe. “Oh man! You are! That’s why you’re being so weird and squirmy!”

“S-stohop it!” Zuko giggled, a giant smile overtaking his features. Meanwhile, he was absolutely dying on the inside. This was too humiliating for words. His whole body smoldered with embarrassment while his toes twitched in protest. 

“Is my waterbending tickling you?” she wondered aloud, swirling one finger against his sole in thought, fiercely enjoying his erratic response. If there were ever a time she’d consider calling Zuko cute, it was now, when he was squealing and squirming beneath her delicate touch, flashing one of his rare (and surprisingly radiant) smiles, his face rosy with shame. She chuckled softly. “Hm. That’s new. No one’s ever told me it tickled them before. You must be really sensitive, huh?”

Thankfully, Katara did stop tickling him, but the evil smirk she drilled him with rendered him no less flustered. The damage was done, and there was no taking it back. Toph placed her fists on her hips and grinned smugly.

“Aw! No wonder he didn’t want to tell you why he couldn’t stay still. The little Fire Princey is embarrassed! How cute!”

For the second time that day, Zuko’s face turned as red as a lychee nut. He pouted timidly. 

“Sh-shut up!” he snarled. “It’s not cute!” He didn’t seem to understand the fact that the more he denied it, the less he was helping his case. 

“What’s not cute?” Aang’s chipper voice called, causing dread to shudder up Zuko’s skeleton. He and Sokka stepped through the doorway, holding bags of provisions. 

Katara giggled into her hand. “Yeah, Zuko,” she said pointedly. “What’s not cute?”

The firebender shrunk into himself shyly. Aang tilted his head to the side.

“Why is Zuko all bound up?” he asked. “Did he attack one of you?”

“He wouldn’t stay still for Katara’s healing session,” Toph explained, a mischievous glint in her faded eyes. 

Katara pressed her water-cloaked palm to his foot again, boasting a bright grin. “But we don’t have to worry about that anymore! Right, Zuko?”

If Zuko were able, he’d definitely kick her in the face right now. Unfortunately for him, all he could do was cringe and bite the inside of his cheek, battling back a wall of bubbly giggles while squirming against his restraints. 

“Why does he look like he’s about to explode?” Sokka asked, frowning.

“But like...happy explode!” Aang observed. 

Toph chuckled, unable to keep quiet any longer. “Because Katara’s water healing technique is tickling him,” she explained, feeling Zuko’s heart leap in despair. “She has to heal the exit wound on his foot, but apparently his feet are super ticklish.”

To Zuko’s dismay, two more pairs of eyes turned on his blushing, smiley self with stunned delight. Other than the Agni Kai with his father, Zuko couldn’t remember another moment in his life where he so desperately wanted to be invisible. 

“Zuko is ticklish?” Aang exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “Aw! That’s adorable!”

Zuko considered retaliating, but if he opened his mouth, laughter was the only thing coming out. Sokka snickered.

“First we discover you sleep with a traveling petting zoo, and now we find out you’re ticklish?” The Water Tribe boy tsked disappointedly. “Man. Your bad guy aesthetic has taken a major hit today, buddy.”

Aang hopped to Zuko’s left side, leaning in close to his flushed face. “If you’re tickling him, how come he’s not laughing?” he inquired. 

Katara chuckled softly. “I think he’s putting all his effort into keeping himself from laughing,” she said. “He seems determined not to let us hear it.”

A steady stream of whimpers and squeaks were escaping the flustered firebender, but he was somehow managing to stave off the tsunami of giggles. If somebody wasn’t intentionally tickling him, it seemed he was able to stay quiet, so long as all his focus was honed in on that goal.

Before Aang had a chance to remedy this injustice, Iroh appeared in the doorway of the tent, beaming with excitement.

“Zuko, look what I found!” he exclaimed, holding up his fist. “Feathers from the rare blue skink quail! Legend says if you add them to your tea, they can cure any ailment!” He eyed the long quills suspiciously. “Unless I am mistaken, and they are actually normal skink quail feathers, which are known to cause uncontrollable dysentery if consumed…”

He glanced up from his dilemma to find his nephew pinned down with shackles made of earth, looking extremely red in the face. He was surrounded by the avatar and his friends, who appeared amused by the prince’s pitiful squirming.

“Hey Iroh, did you know Zuko is ticklish?” Aang giggled. 

Iroh blinked, taken back by the sight and the question. “What are you doing to my nephew?” he asked bemusedly.

“I’m just healing him,” Katara insisted, pointing to the glowing hand on his sole. “But I guess the feeling on his foot tickles, so we had to restrain him to keep him still.” 

Iroh stared at Zuko’s twitchy toes, then at his smiling, blushing face. A stroke of endearment touched his heart. He loved seeing Zuko smile, even if the reason at the moment wasn’t to his liking. Unfortunately, the only way to get his hotheaded nephew to smile nowadays was through convoluted and unconventional methods like tickling. He tried not to use his adorable sensitivity against him too often, knowing it embarrassed the prince tremendously, but sometimes he felt he had to do it just to remind himself that Zuko was capable of joy and laughter, no matter how hard he tried to convince both of them he wasn’t. It was especially nice to see him smiling now, after nearly losing him to Azula’s attack. The thought of never seeing his nephew’s happy face again was too painful to dwell on. 

“I see,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning upward. “He’s probably not pleased you found out about his little weakness.”

“Uncle!” Zuko squeaked out before shutting back up again, clenching his teeth behind his lips. The children chuckled in delight. He was really struggling now, snickering and sputtering with his eyes squeezed shut. Not even Katara was immune to the endearing scene. She offered him a sympathetic smile. 

“You know you can laugh if you want,” she said earnestly. “I imagine it’s not easy to fight it for this long. It might actually be good for you.”

“Yeah!” Aang chirped. “It’s just like the monks always said: laughter is the best medicine.” He sat down beside him, beaming brilliantly. “Don’t be shy! Go ahead!”

Zuko shook his head adamantly, shoving his face into his shoulder as his whole body trembled and quaked. He had already been humiliated beyond all reason—he would not grant them any more satisfaction at his expense. A wry grin curled along Sokka’s lips. 

“Perhaps the stubborn prince needs a little more encouragement,” he suggested. He plucked one of the large feathers from Iroh’s fist. “Could I borrow one of these?”

“Sure,” Iroh said knowingly. “I probably won’t be using them anyway. I don’t have a great track record with concocting teas from strange things I found in the wilderness.”

Sokka skipped between his friends to sit on the firebender’s right side, opposite of Aang. “This oughta do the trick,” he said. Grinning eagerly, he held the soft end of the feather above Zuko’s torso, wiggling it threateningly. “Hey Fire Lord Spawn,” he teased him, “is your upper body ticklish too?”

Something lithe and fuzzy started brushing against his side, causing Zuko’s eyes to fly open. Horror sprawled across his face as goosebumps bubbled up from his skin.

“Ah! W-wahait! Don’t—!” He clamped his mouth shut and tried to angle his body out of the feather’s reach, but Sokka made sure the tickly bristles stayed glued to his side, gliding in the space between his hips and ribs. 

Zuko’s steely resolve was snuffed out in seconds. The sensation tickled far too much for the poor prince to take. Add that to the tingly tickles on his foot, and he knew he was done for. In real time, the four kids and the old man watched Zuko’s willpower rapidly crumble away: from whimpering to snorting to thrashing in place, until finally—

“Ehahaha!” he belted out, his cheeks glowing bright pink. He bucked and writhed, bursting with uncontrollable giggles. “Nohoheehee! Stahap!”

“Aww! There ya go!” Aang cheered.

“No way,” Toph gasped. “That’s Zuko?”

Sokka smirked triumphantly as he swooped the feather up and down the full length of the firebender’s side, drawing airy, nervous giggles from his lips. It was a softer kind of laughter compared to the time Iroh had attacked his tummy in the cave, but just as endearing—if not more so. Plus, in his current state, gentler tickling was definitely more appropriate. 

“Q-quihit it! Gehet awahay!” His eyes darted around the room, searching feverishly for a way out of this ticklish nightmare. Among the unfriendly faces, he spotted Iroh, who was watching the scene play out from the back, chuckling softly. 

“Uhuncle!” Zuko bubbled, his wide smile and bright laughter melting Iroh’s heart. He squirmed helplessly, burning from head to toe. “Mahake them stohop!”

Iroh grinned, stroking his beard. “I think the avatar is right, Prince Zuko. Laughter is a wonderful remedy for a broken body and a troubled soul. Indulging yourself in it for a little while may benefit your condition, especially right now.” 

Zuko stopped listening six words in, when it was clear he wasn’t going to help him. His mind was too occupied by the feeling of the feather delicately tracing the right side of his ribcage, causing light but frantic giggles to spill from his throat. Sokka lingered in the spot just below his underarm, teasing and stroking the exceptionally sensitive skin, then dragged the feather back down his side, fluttering the tip right above his hip bone. 

Katara chuckled along with the giggly prince, still grappling with the notion that the shrill, happy noise ringing in her ears was coming from Zuko. The typically grumpy firebender had a laugh that was both joyful and shy, like every second longer he heard himself doing it was making him all the more ashamed of it. He continued to try to muffle his giggling but was failing at every turn. The fact he was so mortified by the sound of his own laughter almost made her sad. 

“I think Prince Grouchy Butt is embarrassed of his laugh,” she observed amusedly. “Is that why you don’t do it very often?”

The blush in Zuko’s face bled down into his neck. Iroh chortled.

“He has a strict image of hostility and toughness he likes to maintain,” the old man explained. “I don’t think giggling like a child fits into that criteria.”

Sokka cooed, brushing the feather all over his belly. “Poor little Zuko, trying so hard to act tough. Too bad all it takes to shatter that facade is one wiggly feather!” He painted figure eights across his abs, noticing the sharp leap in the prince’s voice. “Hate to break it to you, but I don’t think tough guys typically have such ticklish tummies.”

“Stahap patronizing me!” Zuko demanded between giggles, doubling over as much as his restraints would allow. “Youhou’re all gonna—p-payhay for this!”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” Iroh assured him, unfazed by his nephew’s squeaky threats.

“Yeah,” Katara agreed, grinning fiendishly. “Your laugh is super cute.”

The way he looked at her, you’d think she just told him he would never walk again. Katara couldn’t help but snicker, which only made his face heat up more. Zuko fought once again to stem the waterfall of laughter from breaching his lips, but it was hopeless. The feeling of the feather teasing his bare skin was driving him mad with giggles.

“Nohot—it’s nohohot—eheeheehahahagh!”

He was so focused on the soft bristles mercilessly exploring his right side, he didn’t even notice the avatar nabbing a feather from his uncle and floating down on his left until he started swirling the soft end inside his belly button. 

“Katara’s right, Zuko! Your laugh is super cute. Now I just wanna hear more of it!”

Zuko threw his weight around and arched his spine. “Nohohahaha!” he squealed, the sensation sending shocks across his ticklish tummy. “Ahagh—s-stahap! Thahat feels so weeheeheird!”

The room buzzed with laughter. “He means it tickles,” Katara translated with a snort. “Weird is his word for when something tickles.”

His hysterical response only seemed to goad Aang’s tickling fervor. The airbender drew slow ‘Xs’ over his navel, skimming the side of the feather along the edges as he stroked the tip back and forth, all while asking in a playfully mocking voice, “Does this feel weird, Zuko? Or this? How about this?”

Meanwhile, Sokka started scratching his midriff with the quill part of the feather, which Zuko didn’t expect to tickle beyond human comprehension. But it did, making him shiver and squirm and peal into shrill, sheepish laughter. 

“Ahaha! Ihi’m—ehaha—mhmheeheehee!”

He didn’t even know what he was trying to say at this point. Every ticklish inch of him wanted to beg for mercy, but that would require sacrificing his last leg of dignity, and he was resolved not to degrade himself any further. Unfortunately, that meant he just had to endure their torment until they got bored with it, and who knew how long that would take. 

Sokka and Aang could sense the firebender was reaching his limits. They exchanged a look and eased back on their tickle attack, switching to the fuzzy sides of their feathers and giving him longer breaks between strokes. He was still wounded, after all. If this was how he reacted to being tickled by two gentle, innocuous feathers, Aang could only imagine how much he’d lose it if they started using their hands.

The prince’s laughter returned to nervous, airy giggles—the kind that made Iroh want to pinch his rosy cheeks. He twitched and flinched every time the feathers made contact with his skin, which Sokka and Aang were brushing higher and higher up his body. 

“Do you think his armpits are ticklish?” Aang wondered, stroking his feather dangerously close to his underarm, making Zuko cringe.

“Good question! Why don’t we ask him?” Sokka did the same, drawing a yelp from the firebender’s lips. “Hey Zuko, are your armpits ticklish?”

Poor Zuko was doing everything possible to guard himself, pulling his arms as close to his sides as he could, but the way he was pinned didn’t allow him to protect them completely. The remaining gaps were the perfect size for two silky feathers to slip right into and destroy him. 

“Youhou’re both soho dehead,” he giggled helplessly, straining against his bonds. 

“I can confirm his armpits are quite ticklish!” Iroh exclaimed. “In fact, they may be his worst spot.”

Zuko bared his teeth at his uncle in what he hoped resembled a snarl. “Youhou’re dead too!” he snapped, his arm muscles trembling with effort. “Traihaihaitor!”

“How ‘bout, on the count of three, we both go for his pits?” Aang proposed to Sokka with a wink.

Sokka grinned, winking back. “Ready when you are.”

Aang held his feather toward his underarm. “One....”

Sokka mirrored him, swirling the quill tauntingly. “Two…”

Zuko went pink with anticipation. He shut his eyes, squirming anxiously. “Ihi’m gonna—k-kill all of you!”

The two boys giggled at the flustered prince, drawing out the last count just for good measure. Aang smirked in delight. 

“Three!”

Both of them lunged toward the firebender without making contact. As expected, Zuko busted out laughing anyway, nervous giggles pouring from his lips.

“What’s the matter? We’re not even touching you!” Sokka teased him. 

“We’re not tickling you, so why are you laughing?” Aang concurred. They wiggled their feathers an inch away from his skin, inflicting him with phantom tickling sensations. 

Zuko was at his wit’s end with this entire humiliating affair. He continued to writhe restlessly, snickering into his shoulder. 

“You jerherks! You’re insane! Ahall of you!” He squeaked as Katara’s hand crept toward his toes, shooting tingly, tickly snakes between them. “Come on! Lehet me go already!” 

Sokka cocked his head to the side. “We’re jerks? For not tickling you?”

“Sounds to me like you’re mad that we aren’t actually tickling you,” Aang mused. 

Zuko stiffened. “W-what?”

“We were just messing with you with the whole countdown thing,” Sokka continued.

“But if you’re going to call us jerks for not tickling you…”

“Then I guess we better give the guy what he wants.”

The whole scheme was so well-rehearsed, Zuko was almost impressed. But he didn’t get to marvel at it long. A second later, two fuzzy feathers were swishing against his underarms, setting off every nerve ending in his body. 

“Ahahaheehee!” He threw his head back, cackling wildly, twisting from side to side. “N-noho! Pfftahahack! Cuhut it ahouhahahaaa!”

Hiccups began punching through Zuko’s giggle fit. It didn’t look like Iroh had been kidding. Aang drew circles in the hollow of his pit while Sokka skated his feather up and down the underside of his upper arm, rendering the prince a wriggly, squealing mess. None of them could get over just how silly and adorable their nemesis was when he was laughing like crazy and squirming away from their tickle attack. He went from angry, scary firebender to giggly little teenager with one stroke of a feather. The happy expression on his face reminded Aang of his old friend Kuzon. 

“What was it that I heard Azula’s call you?” Aang said, bopping him playfully on the nose. “Zu-Zu, right?”

“Zu-Zu?” Katara repeated, laughing out loud. “That’s so cute!”

At that point, Zuko’s entire body had turned a rosy red color. The feathers wisping against his underarms were driving him ballistic—not to mention their incessant efforts to make him blush. 

“Dohon’t cahall me thahahat!” he giggled shrilly.

“How come?” Sokka asked, fluttering his feather in the hollow of his pit. “Does Prince Zu-Zu not like his adorable little nickname?”

Iroh chuckled lightly to himself, both adoring and pitying his poor nephew. “Are you going to join the fun?” he asked Toph, offering her the last feather.

“You’re terrible,” she snorted. “I love it.” 

She snatched the quill from his hand and sat beside Katara. When the earthbender began whisking the soft bristles across his uninjured sole, Zuko’s whole leg jolted violently.

“Whaha—nohoho!” he cried. He curled his toes and flexed his foot, but it did nothing to deter Toph’s delicate and meticulous destruction of the ticklish firebender. She tickled the entirety of his sole, gauging his reactions to see which places and methods made him squirm the most. Sawing the feather between his toes ended up being her deadliest technique, leaving Zuko in writhing, squeaky stitches.

Now all four of them were teamed up on him, and Zuko was starting to lose it. The fuzzy feeling of three wiggly feathers and one tingly hand all tickling the most sensitive areas of his body at the same time was making his brain go haywire. It seemed the longer they teased his ticklish skin, the more sensitive it became to their touch, rendering him more desperate and more giggly with each passing second. 

“Thihis—ihis—ehevil!” he gasped. Every word was either punctuated by hiccups, or followed by a stretch of silent laughter—where he was giggling so much, he could hardly make a sound. 

Katara scoffed. “Did Zuko just call us evil? That’s hilarious.” She watched her friends tickle the helpless firebender to bits and chuckled at his hysterical flailing. She could hardly believe the cruel soldier she’d fought in the North Pole and the laughing teen wriggling in front of her were one and the same. It was crazy to think she actually used to be afraid of him. She could probably sit here and watch him squirm all day long and never get tired of it.   

When Aang realized Toph had joined the fray, he switched to gently tickling Zuko’s neck to give him a breather. Sokka did the same, brushing his feather in the gap of his collarbone every now and then, sending spikes of chills across the prince’s skin. 

Zuko’s giggling calmed down a tiny bit, but not as much as they expected. Aang laughed when he stroked the feather towards his ear and Zuko scrunched his head to his shoulder with a squeak. 

“You might be the most ticklish person I’ve ever met,” Aang said cheerfully. “And I’m a hundred and twelve years old!”

“You’re definitely the squirmiest person I’ve ever met,” Sokka agreed, copying the movement on Zuko’s right side, making the prince yelp and hike that shoulder to his ear.

“Stahahap it!” he giggled. He didn’t know how much more of this he could bear. His flesh tingled all over, shuddering beneath the soft, silky touch of the three fuzzy feathers, which stroked and brushed and teased his bare skin without mercy. He’d breathe fire at them if he could, but it was impossible to gather enough air in his lungs to attempt the technique when he was laughing this hard. 

The Water Tribe boy and the avatar started working in tandem to tickle whichever side of his neck was left exposed while Zuko struggled to guard himself, turning it into a fun little game of back and forth. He fought so hard not to shrink up every time they switched sides. Unsurprisingly, he failed every time. 

“You’re so cute when you try not to squirm!” Sokka laughed, stroking the feather against the back of his ear. “Go ahead, keep fighting it. I’m sure it’ll work eventually.” 

“Eheehee!” Zuko squeaked helplessly, jerking away and making Sokka smirk. “Y-you—rahat vihiper!” 

The prince was spiraling. Just when he figured things couldn’t get any worse, Aang and Sokka jumped back down to his ribs and belly, gliding the feathers all over his torso and making him want to disintegrate.

“I think this is the most fun I’ve ever had with a firebender,” Toph said, poking the quill between his toes.

“Me too,” Katara agreed. “Look how smiley and blushy he is! It’ll be hard to ever take you seriously again after I’ve seen you like this.”

Zuko shook his head feebly. It was bad enough they were tickling him to humiliating extremes, making him erupt with high-pitched laughter that he was powerless to quell no matter how much he tried to shut up. Did they really have to make fun of him as well? He couldn’t even move, let alone cover his stupid, blushing face! Talk about fighting dirty. All he could do was wriggle and squeal as they tickled him senseless, his smile as wide and bright as the sun. 

“Ahahaha! Guhuhuys!” he howled. What he would give to be an earthbender right now—or to temporarily have one on his side. 

“Based on his heart rate, he gets even more flustered when you tease him while you tickle him,” Toph observed with a grin. She stroked the feather from the bottom of his heel to the ball of his foot, wiggling it for extra effect. “Coochie-coochie-coo, Zu-Zu! Doesn’t that tickle so much? It’s okay—laugh all you want! It’s not like you can make yourself stop.” 

Aang snickered as Zuko’s ears turned a shade pinker. “Wait ‘til the whole world finds out how adorable the Fire Nation prince is when you tickle him!” he said, flitting the feather below his belly button, tickling the skin along his waistline. Based on the way bucked and yelped, he was exploring an extremely sensitive spot. But to be fair, there didn’t seem to be a lot of places on Zuko that weren't extremely sensitive.

The kids giggled in unison with the hapless prince, the joy on their faces making Iroh’s heart soft. As he watched his helpless nephew get teased and tickled out of his mind, he wished he could snapshot this moment in his memories and save it forever. Seeing the five of them laughing and goofing off together just seemed right, even if it was at Zuko’s expense. How he hoped Zuko’s time with these selfless children had changed him in some way, however small, for the better—offering him the chance to seize a new outlook on his life and his destiny. Iroh sensed the prince’s future was intertwined with the avatar’s, just not in the way he’d always imagined. Perhaps this could be his first step toward that realization.

Meanwhile, Zuko was in giggly shambles. He couldn’t handle another second of this teasy, feathery torment. He’d sworn they wouldn’t get him to beg, but that was the only way out of this he had left in his arsenal. He doubted it would work; it would probably just give them more fuel for their ‘let’s humiliate Zuko’ party. But he was out of options, and his head was starting to spin, and Uncle obviously wasn’t going to save him. He had to try.

“Ohokay!” he cried, breathless and defeated. He barely had the energy to twitch anymore; he was basically just lying there and taking it, tears glinting in the corners of his eyes. “Pleehease—please stahap! I cahan’t… m’g-gehetting…dihizzy…”

Iroh stepped forward to say something, but thankfully, he didn’t have to. All of them immediately stopped tickling Zuko, dropping their arms to their sides and watching the firebender sag with relief, airy giggles still slipping from lips as he fought to catch his breath.

“Gah...heh...uhugh…” He hung his head low, panting lightly. Even though the feathers were no longer tickling him, his skin itched and tingled in all the places they’d perused, and bubbly butterflies continued to dance in his belly. He was also mortified to his core, and probably would be for the rest of his existence, which wasn’t great. He couldn’t wipe the goofy smile off his face just yet. “Myhy…sihides…” he whined. 

“See? All you had to do was ask nicely,” Toph said, grinning.

“Poor Zuko,” Sokka cooed, poking one of his bright red cheeks. “I’ve never seen anyone blush so much for so long before.”

He lolled out of his reach skittishly, fuming with embarrassment. “Stohop,” he whimpered. “Y-you’re all...psyhychos…”

Aang giggled with his hands on his hips. “We really got you good, huh? It was nice to see you look so happy for once. Maybe all that laughing will help you recover faster!” 

“If the laughing doesn’t help, hopefully my healing will,” Katara said, holding up her glowing palm. Zuko winced.

“Ugh...pleehease tell me you’re done with that,” he said weakly. Katara chuckled. 

“What, healing your foot?” she asked. She dragged one finger up the side of his arch. “Oh, yeah. I finished that, like, eight minutes ago.”

A startled giggle leapt from Zuko’s throat, making the four friends cackle and the prince’s ears burn. The moment they settled down, Zuko's stomach let loose a pitiful roar, causing them to crack up all over again.

“Oh man! You still haven’t eaten yet, have you?” Aang poked at his rumbling belly, making Zuko squirm and squeak. “Aw! You’ve got to be totally wiped! That was mean of us. We should’ve fed you first.”

“Quihit messing with me!” Zuko snapped, twitching and snickering beneath the avatar’s tasering fingertips. “Just...lehet me go already!”

“Are you going to attack us if we do?” Sokka asked dubiously. “You did say you were going to kill us before. Like, a lot.”

“Ihi’m seriously considering it!” he growled between giggles. “It’s whahat you deserve!”

Aang clicked his tongue in disapproval. “You might want to rethink your answer on that, your highness.” He sat beside the fettered prince and reached around his back, curling his hands around his tummy, grinning mischievously. “Because if you don’t promise you aren’t gonna hurt any of us after we let you go, I’m not going to stop doing this.”

To Zuko’s horror, the avatar started squeezing both sides of his bare torso, drilling his fingers deep into his flesh, jumping between his hips, his belly, his ribs, his pits, holding absolutely nothing back. Zuko jolted and shrieked, twisting and bucking uselessly, his laughter shooting to an entirely new octave of hysterical.

“AHAHAHAHAAA!” he screeched. “GAHA—S-STAHAHAHAP! IHIHEEHEEHAHAHAGH!”

“Whoa,” Toph whistled. “That’s new.”

“Let’s try again,” Aang said, feigning innocence. “Are you going to attack us once we release you, Prince Zuko?” He needled between each individual rib bone with deadly precision, then burrowed into the dips of the firebender’s hips. 

Zuko thrashed and hiccuped, frantically trying to get the words out between bouts of wild cackling. “NOHOHAHAHAY—I WOHON’T! AHAHAHAY PRAHAHAMISE!” He didn’t think anything could ever tickle as badly as Aang’s ten fingers digging into his upper body did at that moment. The fact he couldn’t do anything to guard himself or wiggle away made it so unimaginably worse than any other time he’d been tickled. As carefree and goofy the twelve-year-old avatar could be, this was downright cruel. He was certain he would die if he didn’t stop. Laughter erupted from the teen like adorable, desperate lava. “PLEEHEEHEASE—NOHO—MOHOHOREHAHA!”

“That’s more like it!” Aang said jubilantly. He lifted his hands off the prince’s tummy and floated to his feet, grinning with triumph. “You can let him go now, Toph.”

Toph punched her fists toward the ground, and the rock restraints retracted from his ankles. A second later, she pounded her heel against the earth, freeing his arms from the wall. Zuko celebrated his newfound freedom by immediately shrinking into a tiny ball, hugging himself around the middle with his knees pulled to his chest, giggling dazedly as he fought to tame his breathing. The others watched him with smiles on their faces. They couldn’t help but be endeared.

“Are you all right, Prince Zuko?” Iroh eventually asked, crossing the room to kneel beside him. He laid a hand on his shoulder, which was beginning to bounce less and less. 

“Myhy everything hurts…” he wheezed, but the smile refused to leave lips. He looked up at Iroh, woozy and flushed. “Why didn’t you...hehelp me…?”

Iroh smiled and wrapped him into a hug. Zuko groaned into his shirt but didn’t have the strength to pull away. 

“I’m sorry,” Uncle said, rubbing his back. “But you know how much I love hearing you laugh. When Azula’s struck you, I thought I might never get to hear it again.” He squeezed him a little tighter. “Seeing you happy fills me with so much joy. I try to soak it in every time I get the chance.”

“I’m nohot happy,” he grumbled, voice muffled by the fabric. Iroh chuckled.

“I know you’re not,” he said, giving his side a gentle pinch. “But I hope one day you will be, so I can hear you laugh without resorting to this.”

Zuko flinched and squeaked, shoving him away with as much muscle as he could muster. “Ahack! Uncle!” He clamped his palms over his sides, blushing furiously. “Ehenough! I am so done with all of you!” He pouted at the ground, shoulders hunched, ears pink with embarrassment. “Just...leave me alone...” 

“Sorry, Zuko,” Katara giggled. “We may have gone a little overboard. We’ve just never seen that side of you before. It was sweet.”

Zuko didn’t feel like acknowledging or interacting with any of them right now—maybe for the rest of time. He was too flustered and humiliated by what had just transpired to even begin to decide how to handle it. The sound of his laughter blared shrilly in the back of his mind, mortifying him to no end. Even after being tickled by Uncle not too long ago, he could still hardly believe how loud and hysterical his own laughter could get—that that silly, squeaky noise he was hearing was somehow coming from his own body. It was as if he was possessed by some girly-voiced ghost every time someone tickled him. It was relentlessly embarrassing. 

“Don’t feel bad,” Toph said, swiping her arms toward her feet. Two hands made of earth stretched down from the roof and grabbed hold of Sokka and Aang’s wrists, hoisting them over their heads.  

“Hey!” Aang cried.

“What the—?”

Toph stepped between the boys and tickled their exposed sides, making both of them squirm and laugh shrilly. “They act all high and mighty now, but they’re just as ticklish as you are.”

“Ehahaha! Tohoph!” Aang squealed.

“GAHAHASTAHAHAPIT!” Sokka shrieked, flailing around like a beached elephant coy. 

“Or perhaps even more so,” Toph corrected herself smugly. She released them from her hold and shoved them both aside. They staggered in opposite directions, blushing deeply and thoroughly chagrined. 

Zuko stared between the avatar and the Water Tribe boy. He had to admit, seeing them flustered did make him feel slightly better about this entire nightmarish affair. It also helped that he’d finally caught his breath and was no longer bubbling with giggles. He decided if he had to pick someone in their group to hate the least, it was Toph. Even if she kind of terrified him.

She scooped one of their bags of provisions off the floor and tossed it into Zuko’s lap. “Here—eat,” Toph said. “The sound of your stomach growling is driving me insane.”

Zuko flinched in surprise and eyed the offering warily. He dug around inside and found some bread, a couple strips of salmon jerky, and a weird, round fruit he didn’t recognize. His mouth watered at the prospect of finally getting to eat without yesterday's queasiness holding him back. 

“What’s this?” he asked, holding up the fruit skeptically. 

“Honey plum,” Toph answered. “Have you never had one before? They only grow in the southern Earth Kingdom.”

Zuko shook his head. Iroh plucked it out of his hand with a grin.

“A honey plum! What a treat! These are delicious, Prince Zuko. You must try it.”

He handed it back to him excitedly. Zuko frowned at the bluish-purple fruit before taking a hesitant bite. As he chewed, a sparkle of surprise touched his golden eyes.

“Wow,” he said, swallowing. “That is really good.” He bit into it again, this time with far less reluctance, munching eagerly to qualm his ravenous hunger. It was sweet and juicy, the swirl of bright flavors bursting like firecrackers on his tongue. He was so focused on feeding the monster in his gut, he didn’t look up for a while. But when he did, he was startled to find everyone staring at him.

“Why are all of you...watching me?” he mumbled over his mouthful, shrinking uncomfortably. “I feel like some kind of zoo animal.”

“No reason,” Aang said, grinning. “We’re just happy you like it!”

“You eat like Sokka at the Glacial Spirits Festival,” Katara giggled. “I expected the Fire Nation prince’s manners to be a tad more dignified.”

Warmth rushed back into the firebender’s cheeks. “I’m hungry!” he retorted defensively. “I haven’t eaten in almost a day and a half! What do you want me to do—stick out my pinky and curtsy with every bite?”

“Yes,” Sokka said enthusiastically. “Absolutely yes.”

Zuko huffed, nibbling at the plum self-consciously. “Why do you people insist on making me feel weird about everything I do?”

“Cuz it’s fun,” Toph snickered. “You’re so easy to fluster.”

Zuko bristled. “No I’m not!”

Katara tapped her chin in thought. “When you say ‘weird,’ do you mean the normal definition of weird, or do you mean your definition of weird, which is that something tickles?”

The prince reddened and avoided their gazes, knowing there was no answer to that question that worked in his favor. 

“See? Like that,” Toph laughed, noting the spike in his heart rate. Zuko crossed his arms and stared sideways, hating having all their attention focused on his blushing self for so long. 

“Don’t feel weird,” Aang insisted, cramming a handful of berries in his mouth. “Eat as much as you like—and as messily as you like! You deserve to porcupig out a little.”

“I’m sure he’s just tickled by our kindness and hospitality,” Sokka said, wiggling his feather at him teasingly.

Zuko grimaced and jabbed two fingers forward. In a puff of flame, Sokka’s feather disintegrated in his hand, making him gawk.

“Hey! No fair!”

Katara watched her brother mourn the loss of his new weapon amusedly, then stepped toward the skittish firebender. “Come on,” she said, offering him a hand. “Let’s see if you can walk any better after your healing session.”

Zuko glanced between her palm and her face uncertainly before accepting her help, letting the waterbender pull him to his feet. Iroh stood with him, holding out his hands in case he fell. 

The prince wobbled a little once he was upright but didn’t need anyone’s support to stay that way. He flexed and stamped his left foot, delighted by the lack of pain that followed.

“It’s better,” he said, pleasantly surprised. “A lot better.” He braved a couple steps forward. He still had a limp, but he could finally walk on his own again, if only for a little while. 

“Good,” Katara said. “I can heal you again if anything starts hurting badly, but you mostly need lots of rest.”

He met her gaze gingerly. He didn’t want to say it, but he felt like he had to. “Thank you,” he murmured, the words grating his throat as they left his lips.

The girl smiled and nodded. Toph pounded her foot into the ground, making the tent collapse around them and sink back into the earth, startling Zuko tremendously. 

“I’m hungry too now,” she announced, lifting their campfire off the ground and placing it in the center of their group with earthbending. She snatched the bag of berries from Aang and gobbled down the rest. “Iroh, would you mind making us some more of that jasmine tea?”

Iroh beamed. “Yes! Of course!” He ran and grabbed his pot and the leaves. “Tea always tastes better when it is brewed and shared with others.”

While Zuko watched his uncle enter his tea-making trance, Toph grabbed the honey plum from his hand and shoved it in his mouth, making the firebender grunt in muffled surprise. “Eat, Princey,” she snapped. “Food doesn’t last long around here. Take what you can get before someone else horks it down.”

Zuko pulled the plum out of his mouth and chewed sourly. He hadn’t realized just how tiny the earthbender was until now, when he was standing over her, practically craning his neck to look her in the eye. 

And suddenly, everyone was settling down around the fire, taking and eating and acting like this whole bizarre situation was perfectly normal. At least he wasn’t the center of attention anymore, though it felt like he should be; they were being far too trusting, letting him stand so close so freely now that he had some of his strength back. He swept his gaze around the circle with a puzzled frown. Hesitantly, Zuko sat among them, listening to the criss-crossing conversations as he finished off the honey plum and started in on the bread. 

“When do we start my earthbending training?”

“You sure you’re ready, Twinkle Toes? Being an earthbender takes guts and grit like you’ve never seen.”

“Definitely!”

“Pass me some of that sun melon, Sokka. Momo’s getting fussy.”

“Sure. Here, Zuko—have some too.”

Sokka casually handed Zuko a slice before giving the rest to Katara. Zuko took it reluctantly, gave it a sniff, then munched on the fruit, glancing warily between the others, feeling odd and out of place, like an unacknowledged elephant rhino in the room. 

But also...strangely content. 

As he tended to the tea, Iroh watched his nephew with a small smile. He wished Zuko could see how well he fit with these kids rather than in a toxic palace in the Fire Nation capital. He wished he could see how relaxed he looked here versus how tense he was beneath the scrutinizing gazes of Azula and his father. He wished he could stay with them, reject the false path Ozai had set him on, and find his own destiny with these kind, goofy children.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You must leave tonight—all of you.”

The four friends stood before the old man in disbelief, the setting sun reflecting in their wide eyes. Behind them, Zuko slept by the fire, his back rising and falling steadily.

“Leave?” Aang said, blinking. “What for?”

“What’s going on?” Toph asked.

Iroh bowed his head, his voice grim. “Now that he is getting better, there’s a possibility my nephew may try to pull something unfavorable against you and your friends. I want you all gone before he gets the chance.”

Katara took a step back, her eyes clouding over with rage. “What? Did he tell you he was planning something?”

“No,” Iroh insisted. “He hasn’t mentioned anything like that.” A grimace gnarled his features. “But I know my nephew. He needs more time before he is ready to fully realize his destiny. He is still extremely lost, hurt, and confused, and I do not want any of you to suffer because of it.” He sighed softly. “I don’t believe he will try anything, but...I’m not willing to risk it. Not after everything you’ve done for us.”

Sokka eyed Zuko’s slumbering form, then turned back to Iroh. “So...we should just...go? Right now?”

The old man nodded somberly. “I think that would be best.”

“But what if he needs more healing sessions?” Katara asked. “He’s still really weak.”

“I can take care of him,” Iroh said, his expression softening. “I’ve done it before. I am more than capable of doing it again.”

Toph shifted her weight between her feet. “He’ll be upset when he finds out we’re gone.” 

Perhaps in more ways than one, she considered. They had only just begun to peel back the layers of the person they knew as Zuko, peering into the heart of the troubled but not entirely unsalvageable individual he was. Leaving now felt like dumping all of that progress down the drain, reverting back to their old shtick of pursuer and prey. Oddly enough, it almost felt...treacherous. 

The old man hinted a smile. “He will be okay. Do not worry yourselves for my nephew’s sake. You have all already helped both of us more than we deserve.” He bowed respectfully, his hands clasped inside his sleeves. “Good luck on your journey, young avatar. May the spirits guide you and your friends. I sincerely hope we meet again soon, under more desirable circumstances.”

Aang hesitated for a moment before bowing back. He didn’t know how Zuko would react if they told him beforehand that they were leaving. Probably not favorably. Still, it felt strange, abandoning the two of them without a proper goodbye. 

“I hope so too,” he said. He raised his head and met Iroh’s gaze. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Iroh glanced over his shoulder. “I’m lucky to have him, too,” he said. Icy sadness tugged at his chest. He fought not to let it bleed across his face. 

“Keep trying to, I don’t know, ‘lead him into the light’ or whatever.” Sokka shrugged. “For what it’s worth, I have way more faith in him than I do Azula.”

The old man shuddered. “Me too,” he breathed.

Katara stared at her feet. “I hope...he changes,” she managed to say, looking awkward and conflicted.

Iroh nodded once, his expression warm. “He will,” he said. Then he exhaled slowly. “Go. I wish each of you the best this world has to offer.”

The four kids smiled sullenly, then dispersed to pack their things. They left on Appa thirty minutes later, the two firebenders shrinking smaller and smaller before vanishing behind the horizon, a collective ache hanging over them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You let them go?”

Iroh sat by the edge of the river, legs crossed with a cup of tea in his hand. Zuko stood over him, boiling with anger.

“I did not ‘let them go,’ Iroh assured him, breathing in the dewey morning aromas. “They were here when I went to bed. When I woke up, they were gone.”

It wasn’t lying, technically. Just strategic withholding of information. Zuko groaned in frustration.

“I can’t believe this!” he yelled, stomping in circles. “Why would they just leave like that?”

Uncle sipped his tea calmly. “Why wouldn’t they? They healed you, fed you, gave you a place to sleep. Now that you are doing better, there was no reason for them to stick around.” 

Zuko buried his face in his hands. “The avatar was sleeping right next to us! We could’ve captured him and dragged him off without any of them noticing!”

“Another valid reason for them to leave,” Iroh pointed out. “I’m sure they feared you would try something like that, even after they saved your life.” He sighed contently. “We’re lucky they simply left us in peace, rather than taking us prisoner.”

He hated how well his uncle was taking all of this—and how accurate all of his rebuttals were. Zuko kicked a pine cone into the river. 

“It could take weeks to track them down again! Ugh!” He sunk to the ground, griping and grumbling incoherently. 

“I am surprised you are so shocked that they left,” Iroh said, raising an eyebrow. “We are still their enemies, after all. They never had an obligation to help us in the first place. What reason would they have to stay with us after they healed you?”

To be honest, Zuko wasn’t sure why he was so stunned by it, either. Of course they had left. That was the smart thing to do. If he were in their position, he wouldn’t have stayed, either. Now that he could walk, he was capable of committing all kinds of malicious crimes against them—as he’d done many, many times in the past. 

But the weird thing was, he hadn’t planned to do anything like that.

At first, sure, maybe. When he was hurting all over and seething with anger and resentment. But after speaking with each of them, forming those little connections he never thought possible, things had changed. His usual appetite for causing them pain had gradually dwindled away. Capturing the avatar and hauling him back to his father was starting to sound more like an unsavory obligation rather than something he actually wanted to do. 

He was still mad at them for that mortifying stunt they pulled in the tent yesterday, but not in the way he expected. It was beginning to feel more like a “you got me, now I’ve got to get you back” kind of mad—the innocent, playful kind he and Azula had for each other whenever they pranked one another as kids. Now, he would never get the chance. 

“I guess there is no reason,” Zuko admitted bitterly, hugging his knees. “I’m just...frustrated.”

“It’s okay to be angry,” Uncle said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But it’s important that you recognize why you’re angry, because I don’t think the reason is what you believe it to be.”

Zuko eyed him suspiciously. “What are you talking about?”

Uncle’s hand moved to his back, steadying him in the comforting way it had done a thousand times. “Why are you upset they left, Prince Zuko?”

The young firebender frowned. He didn’t know why Uncle was asking him this—the answer was obvious.

“Because now I have to find them again to capture the avatar,” he said, although it sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

Iroh hummed thoughtfully. “That’s it? No other reason?”

“What other reason would there be?” Zuko shot back. 

Uncle stirred his tea, the spoon clinking against the sides of the cup. “They were kind to you. Rather than ignoring you or berating you, they chose to interact with you in a warm, friendly manner. They didn’t treat you like a dangerous Fire Nation soldier; they saw you as a person who needed their help. They are all very good people.”

Zuko scoffed. “They were not kind to me. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You have rarely ever been around kids your age outside of the Fire Nation—especially ones that care so openly about one another.” He sipped his drink and stared across the river. “You fit in well among them.”

“What are you trying to say?” Zuko snapped, feeling hot and nervous and furious all at once. “That I miss them? That I want to be friends with the avatar and his obnoxious cronies? You’re insane, Uncle. I—I hate them! They’re the most insufferable people in the entire world! And my enemies!”

Iroh didn’t react to his tirade. He simply laid his hand on his nephew’s head, scratching at his short, fuzzy hair. Zuko went stiff, startled by the affectionate contact, debating whether or not to jerk away. He hated to admit it, but it felt...nice.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to befriend good people, regardless of your past or theirs. Not everything is as rigid and definite as you might think.”

Zuko blinked. His entrails felt like a bundle of knots. His throat grew sore and tight. The ache inside him was sickening familiar, and he hated himself for feeling it in this situation. He tried to will it away, to loathe it out of existence. But it was there, cold and stinging.

The pain of being left. 

He hadn’t had a head of hair to pet since he was thirteen. All Zuko wanted was to lean into Uncle’s touch and let him scratch his scalp forever. Instead, he ducked out of Iroh’s reach, clambering to his feet. 

“You’ve officially lost your mind,” he growled, running his fingers through his hair irritably. Uncle stood by his side, a somber smile on his face. His nephew’s walls held strong, but they were weakening every day. He still needed more time, more patience, but the old man had hope.

“Come, Prince Zuko,” he said. “Now that you’re feeling better, it is time to resume your firebending training.”

Zuko turned to face him, his scowl melting into a look of excitement. “Wait—really?”

Iroh nodded. “It is time you moved on to the advanced set, and learned how to defend yourself against people like Azula.” He assumed a steady stance and pointed two fingers toward the sky. “Do this motion with me.”

The prince stepped in front of him and mirrored his movements. He still couldn’t fully extend his left arm, but he tried his best to copy Uncle’s form. “What are you going to show me?” he asked eagerly.

Iroh grinned. “A firebending technique that I developed by studying waterbenders, one that neither Azula, Ozai, or any other firebender except me can do.” His eyes twinkled defiantly. “How to redirect lightning.”

[chaolie]

Fundy Week, Day 6 - Self Love

MCC distracted me for a bit, so this is kinda late again, but that's okay because I had fun watching it! Here's what I managed to create for @fundyfiles' Fundy Week today! Another fic not taking place on DSMP, but on Cogchamp this time! You can also find it on my Ao3!

Characters: Fundy, 5up, Sam, Crumb, Ranboo, Tubbo

Words: 2k

Warnings: none

Summary: Fundy has an incredible day with his cogchamp friends, and finds a reason after a reason to feel proud of himself.

Fundy awoke to the soft humming of the machinery near him and the smell of fresh bread. He slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes before allowing himself to look around. He found himself in one of the beds near the bread factory, just barely out of shade the windmill gave. He also spotted 5up and Sam in the two other beds, right by his side, both still asleep. He considered waking them up, but eventually decided to let them rest for a bit longer, it was such a peaceful morning after all.

He carefully left the bed and after briefly straightening the sheets, he made his way towards the wheat farm. Noticeably, the plants managed to grow overnight, meaning that they could run the tractor again before heading back to their main bases. But with that, he wanted to wait for everyone to wake up. That’s why, instead, he made his way over to the bread factory itself, watching as the last bits of wheat and seeds were getting sorted.

This was nice. Even after working for the entire night, the machine seemed to be just as efficient, he, Crumb, and 5up must’ve done a really great job building it. With a smile on his face, he slowly made his way around it, admiring all the different parts of it and looking back on when they built it. Sure, there were some issues they had to deal with back then, but he was proud to conclude that they found just the right ways around them. Everything seemed to be flawless now.

He finally reached the chest collecting all the bread being produced and opened it, making the smell of freshly baked pastry in the air far more intense. He simply enjoyed it for a moment before reaching inside and taking out a bunch of loaves, some still hot at the touch. He carefully placed them in a bag he had with him. Surely, that would be enough for everyone, right? He couldn’t wait for the big breakfast they were planning, the bread from the factory always seemed to taste so much better when they all shared it. His peaceful thoughts were stopped by a quiet explosion nearby, followed by two shocked gasps.

“I didn’t do that!” Sam claimed, backing away from the now-smoking tractor. 5up was near him, trying not to laugh.

“I mean, I’m not the one who touched it,” he pointed out before approaching the machine and examining it. “...Hm, maybe if we just…” he wondered, and whatever he did, made more smoke raise.

“Oh god, it broke again?” Fundy asked, joining the two near the machine.

“Yeah…” Sam nodded, not risking approaching it again.

“Great. Let me take a look,” the fox hybrid sighed, removing a detachable piece of it see the mechanism inside. “Hm. This looks fixable,” he decided, reaching inside and rearranging the gears while the other two watched.

“Do you need anything?” 5up asked, making Fundy pause for a moment.

“Yeah, my wrench, actually,” he decided. “Oh, also a bucket of water,” he added after taking one more look inside.

“I can get the water,” Sam offered, grabbing a bucket laying nearby and heading towards the river close to the farm.

“I’ll get the wrench, then,” 5up concluded, heading away as well.

“Thanks,” Fundy called after them before going back to his previous job.

Soon enough, he had all the things he asked for. He used the water to clean a couple of cogs and secured some others with the wrench before putting the casing back on. He patted the machine for good luck, and it didn’t explode at the touch, so that was a great sign. He nodded to himself in approval before turning to look at his company again.

“Alright, that should be working now. Who wants to go inside?” he asked, and watched as the two glanced at each other.

“Can I do that?” Sam asked, looking between 5up and Fundy.

“Go ahead,” 5up nodded, Fundy mirroring the gesture.

“Yeah, of course!” he confirmed, and Sam quickly climbed into the tractor. By the time he did, Fundy was already by the button, ready to set the machine into motion. “If it explodes, that’s on me,” he warned, and the creeper hybrid turned to look at him.

“Wait, then-” he tried to say, but Fundy already pressed the button. The tractor let out a concerning sound, as it usually did, before moving from its place and quickly riding into the wheat.

Fundy and 5up both laughed as Sam almost lost his balance when the machine moved, but to the fox hybrid’s credit, it seemed to work flawlessly. They both quickly calmed themselves and just watched as the tractor collected the grown wheat and Sam cheered from inside of it.

“I am just so great at fixing it,” Fundy hummed to himself, and 5up nodded.

“You sure are,” he agreed, loosely following the tractor with his gaze. “Don’t think we’d manage to fix it without you.”

“Thanks,” the fox hybrid smiled, it felt nice to be appreciated.

“Of course. W-wait- Crumb’s flowers!” 5up remembered, already running towards the small field of colorful plants.

“Oh no!” Fundy gasped, following close behind.

***

They reached their main bases and reunited with Tubbo, Ranboo, and Crumb a bit over an hour later, and finally got to eat their breakfast together. Everyone complimented the bread, it really seemed to taste better when they could share it with each other. As it turned out, the other 3 prepared something as well, so after the food Fundy brought was finished, they all got to enjoy a small cake as well. Maybe it wasn’t quite a ‘breakfast’ kind of food, but it sure tasted great, and what more could they expect?

“Oh, by the way!” Fundy started once they were all done eating. “I want to show you all a little project I worked on recently!” he explained, and everyone seemed curious.

“Sure, what is it?” Sam asked, but the fox hybrid shook his head.

“A surprise?” he answered after a moment.

“I hope it doesn’t explode,” Ranboo commented, getting up from his seat as a way of showing that he was ready to go.

“I mean… that could be kind of cool, though?” Tubbo suggested, ready to follow Fundy as well.

“Yeah! Explosions are cool!” Crumb agreed cheerfully.

“Look, I can promise it won’t kill you,” Fundy guaranteed, though it did not reassure anyone.

“Great. So it explodes?” 5up asked, but received no answer. “Alright, lead the way,” he decided.

“Everyone follow me, then!” the fox hybrid hummed, walking in the direction of his and Ranboo’s mine.

He led all of his friends down the cobblestone stairs, into the said mine, and it didn’t take them long to reach the bottom of it. There, the most noticeable change was a giant wall made out of wooden planks, blocking the view into one of the tunnels. It was mostly blank, but a couple of leavers were placed neatly next to one another in the right corner. Fundy quickly ran over to them, and most of the people followed him. Only Ranboo stayed behind, baffled at the new wall.

“For how long has this thing been here?” he asked, carefully approaching it.

“A week?” Fundy answered uncertainly, putting a hand over the first leaver.

“So, what is this?” 5up asked, curiously putting a hand on the wall.

“Step back, listen, and find out yourselves,” the fox hybrid instructed before pulling the first leaver. For a moment, everything was quiet, but then, a steady melody sounded from behind the wall. “Alright, now this…” he muttered to himself, pulling a few more leavers. And with each one, more sounds appeared on the other side.

“...Is that a noteblock song?” Sam asked finally, quietly enough to avoid speaking over the music. Fundy nodded excitedly as he pulled the final leaver.

“Yeah!” he confirmed with a proud grin, listening to the music on the other side of the wall.

“That’s amazing!” Ranboo said quietly.

“Yeah! Did you do that yourself?” Tubbo asked, amazement written all over his face.

“I sure did!” he confirmed, stepping back and joining his friends. “I guess I still need to fix the pacing a little bit, but it’s fine, isn’t it?”

“It’s perfect!” Crumb answered almost immediately, and most of the people muttered quiet agreements.

“Hm, can I see how this works later?” 5up asked, trying to see if there was any way of going around the wall.

“Well, it’s not too impressive back there, it’s just some Redstone slapped together,” Fundy admitted, watching everyone’s reactions. Some of his friends turned to look at him, surprised.

“Wait, you didn’t use any cogs or anything?” Tubbo asked, a confused frown appearing on his face briefly.

“Yeah! This was a hobby of mine, I built things like that long before figuring out that cogs even existed,” the fox hybrid explained.

“That’s really cool!” Ranboo said, nodding along to the music.

“Now I really want to see the Redstone behind it!” 5up admitted. “I tried making one a while back, but it wouldn’t work no matter what I did.”

“Oh, I can show you how to make them work whenever you want me to!” Fundy offered quickly.

“I want to learn too!” Crumb announced.

“Can I tag along? I really want to make one myself, too,” Sam added. Fundy nodded quickly.

“Yeah, of course! We can make it like, a noteblock course for everyone, if you want?” he suggested. Tubbo and Ranboo glanced at each other before nodding.

“Let’s do that!” Tubbo agreed with a smile.

“That sounds like a lot of fun,” Ranboo hummed.

After that, they all went quiet and listened to the music, and Fundy felt proud of how it came out. Suddenly, even the one off-beat part of the song sounded as if it was meant to be there, creating a new harmony with the other noteblocks. He smiled, allowing himself to relax. Using cogs or not, he managed to create something quite beautiful.

***

“Hey, Fundy?” Crumb called after him not long after they left the mine.

“Yeah, Crumb?” he answered, stopping to let her catch up to him.

“...Do we have any cocoa beans? I want to try making chocolate milk,” she asked finally after a moment of hesitation.

“Hm… Don’t think we do… I don’t think we even found a proper jungle yet,” he answered, but still tried to search his memory for something that could help.

“Oh. That’s alright, we’ll find one soon!” the cat hybrid concluded. That’s when Fundy’s face lit up as he remembered something useful.

“You know what I do have, though?” he asked. She looked at him with curiosity as she waited for him to explain. “...I have a flying machine almost ready for takeoff. If you help me get some glue, we could probably finish it today! And then, we can fly it to find a jungle!” he realized, a bright smile appearing on his face as he formed the plan.

“That’s awesome!” Crumb gasped. “I’ll go look for some glue!” she decided, quickly running off to start her search.

“I’ll be by my base!” he called after her before heading there, filled with newfound energy to finish the machine.

***

Unlike what he heard in the morning, the machinery was far louder as he watched the sunset. He wasn’t too surprised though, the flying machine seemed a bit scuffed from the very beginning. Still, it took off first-try, so as he watched the sun hide behind the horizon, he put that on his list of things to be proud of. He did amazing, he and everyone else who contributed to the build.

Despite the loud sounds, it was relaxing to sit up there and watch the world from above. And despite someone already threatening to throw someone else off, it felt peaceful. Fundy found himself smiling, this was great. He couldn’t think of a place he was happier at, he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t Cogchamp.

This was home.

[twilightknight17]

We’re at the end of the road, folks.

And god damn, I feel so validated by my Sojiro characterization. Wow. Thanks for basically making me canon for ten more seconds, Atlus. XDDD

So when last we left our intrepid heroes, they were laying at the bottom of the Jail of the Abyss, because Ichinose is an asshole. So we had to fight our way back up, carrying Sophia’s unconscious body. Which wasn’t that bad; the Jail isn’t very big. We left Sophia at the door to keep her safe, and then charged back into the hall of the Ark to hack Ichinose’s exploding crystal box thing.

Ichinose doesn’t understand why we came back.

So, yeah. I guess like... bizarro-world Maruki? Maruki wanted to alleviate suffering by granting everyone’s wishes. EMMA’s going to make it so that people can’t wish for anything.

After a kick-ass hacking battle set to the new version of Rivers in the Desert, Ichinose yells at us about our right to judge. Why should humanity keep this painful world, just because WE’RE strong? Just because we’ve never screwed up or suffered?

Which, clearly she has no idea who the fuck she’s talking to.

We’ve worked too hard to listen to that kind of bullshit.

Ichinose proclaims that “humans don’t need hearts” and charges up the laser crystal to blast us again, and Sophia steps in to block the attack. She’s still fighting Ichinose’s control even though Ichinose insists that she’s just a faulty prototype.

Apparently Ichinose created Sophia in the first place because she spent a lifetime being called a heartless doll, so she made an AI to help her learn about the heart.

I think you’re the problem, but not for the reasons everyone else is saying.

But she got angry when Sophia started asking questions of her own and basically tossed her aside, until EMMA found her and dropped her into the Shibuya Jail.

And Sophia, unlike her creator, has learned and grown, and is tired of being given orders. She’s ready to make her own choices.

That is certainly a persona.

I gotta admit, they got me. I was wondering why Sophia didn’t have her arcana yet, but for some reason, I also wasn’t expecting her to get a proper persona. I’m now wondering about the implications of someone being able to code an AI capable of developing a soul that can summon a persona. There’s a zero percent chance that Ichinose had any access to plumes of dusk, which are the reason that Aigis and Labrys gained enough consciousness to have personas. So Sophia is legitimately a miracle piece of technology.

Pandora is an interesting choice, but I dunno if I can articulate that beyond a surface-level, “Oh, because she’s Hope, and Hope was still in the box.”

I swear to god, every major villain in this game is trying to be Goro Akechi. For the last goddamn time, we don’t kill people. Get up, Ichinose. We’re leaving.

Ryuji literally grabs her by the arm and drags her out, because she’s trying to stay behind. Which just confirms for me that if Goro hadn’t put up that bulkhead door, we’d have dragged his stupid ass out of the Ship, too. XD

Back to the real world, and Tokyo is blacking out, and the Tower is losing its shit.

The metaverse is fusing with reality, the Tower is becoming the Tree of Knowledge, and hell yes we are climbing this tower after all!

Morgana points out that this is the same thing that happened last year, and Zenkichi freaks out a little bit.

You’re lucky you moved to Kyoto, sir. You missed quite a bit.

I love these kids, though. They’ve got so much black humor about this whole god thing.

The metaverse encroaching on reality means that everyone has to cram into the bus in their thief gear. Zenkichi, please. Your hat. Sir.

I love climbing this tower. I’ve been here, too! Also they have butter. XD

I was expecting the Mementos version of the lower observation deck, and instead I got some weird amalgam between Mementos and Azathoth’s boss chamber.

We had to fight Metatron as the guardian of the last elevator, which is another parallel to Yaldabaoth’s archangels. And then it’s up to what I guess used to be the high observation deck to fight the big box.

EMMA insists that all humanity wants is to let it give them all the answers, and it throws them into some sort of alternate fog world full of the voices of the public.

The Thieves are all separated, trapped in the fog. Each of them has to find their way out, and they realize that the fog of the Desires is protecting EMMA. EMMA knows exactly how calling cards work, so they won’t work on her. Instead, the Thieves decide that they need to send the calling card to the public, so that they’ll become aware of their desires again and the desires will crystalize.

...oh come on, Atlus. We’re right in the endgame.

One last hacker battle to break into EMMA’s server room in the tower, and Futaba and Ichinose manage to hack EMMA itself to deliver a calling card to everyone at once.

Love you, Zenkichi. We’ve taken out two gods already. We’re good.

Confronting the Ark again reveals a bunch of freaky tentacle arms grabbing the desires, and then the box turns into some sort of massive figure that looks sort of like Yaldabaoth, except less robot and more seraphim. It literally names itself the Demiurge, so I feel like EMMA may be drawing something from the lingering dregs of Yald’s influence? It’s cool.

Clearly no one told you what happened to the last false god that thought it knew what was best for humanity. ;) “Hope binds humanity to misery” is bullshit.

After a... not very difficult first phase, the Demiurge reveals its true form, and we split into three teams to take out its support orbs (modeled after the sephirot) and the main body.

I really liked the setup for the last boss. The teams were the first instance where it was really apparent that the whole team was fighting together. Each of the three battles was happening concurrently, and destroying the orbs has a concrete effect on the main fight. I wish we’d gotten to do things like this more often, especially during the Shadow Thieves fight.

That said, the main body was actually the easiest part of the fight? All the attacks were really telegraphed, and not particularly hard to avoid. Except for the spear jab.

But it finished off with a full-team all-out attack, and that was awesome.

The desires began to return to their owners, and we get to bask in a job well done once again.

Upon returning to the real world, it’s the next morning. Sophia’s happy that she got to be a hero, Zenkichi’s heading off to properly arrest Owada, and the rest of us need to head home, because we were supposed to be home last night. Zenkichi can’t figure out why we consider him a phantom thief, since he “only joined [us] to use [us]”. Which is silly. The Phantom Thieves are built on the bonds of friendship and stalking! It’s too late, Zenkichi. You and Akane have been adopted.

I’m a little disappointed we didn’t get to tell Akane the truth. That would have been great.

Atlus personally reaches out and pats me on the head, because Sojiro has the absolute perfect reaction to his kids coming home after a nationwide manhunt for them.

I feel so valid making him serve Lavenza coffee and be completely nonplussed about a guy marrying Death. I love him. We’re so lucky to have Sojiro. XDDDD

The next day, the kids have a celebration party for their victory, and learn that Akira is going home the next day. This kid needs to catch a break. He can’t even have a few days to relax with his friends. X’‘‘D

Everyone goes to see off Akira, though we detour to Shibuya to meet Ichinose. A news report shows that Owada was successfully arrested, and apparently Ichinose tried to turn herself in to the police, and they didn’t believe a word of it.

This is just highlighting my issues with Maruki. Even if he doesn’t think he did anything wrong to society as a whole, he never apologizes to them for what he put them through. Especially Akira. Ichinose turns around and helps them stop the final boss, and her last scene is her apologizing to the Thieves and trying to make amends for her actions. Maruki’s last scene is... “If things get bad, you can start over like me! Now we’re even!” We are not.

Sophia leaves to help Ichinose learn about the heart, Akira promises to come back for winter break, the Phantom Thieves go their separate ways once again, and the credits roll.

I’m gonna leave my final impressions in a different post, because this one is long enough already. So... look forward to that?

[extremelyblackandwhite]

the unseen one - 15

Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: none

A/N: how many chapters would you guys like a week? i feel like posting every single day due to covid-19 quarantine but maybe it’s too much? what do you guys feel like?

anyhow, hope you enjoy this chapter! feedback is always appreciated!!

Next Chapter >>

The Underworld was usually a mess of sounds. From the tortured screams of those who had sinned in their lifetimes to the cries of those drowning in the river of souls for the very first time, the sound of the Underworld sounded just like his nightmares. Bucky always wondered if this was his own version of hell, if this was payment for the amount of lives he had taken. However, today, the Underworld was quiet, all he could hear were the sounds of the waters washing upon the red greyish rocks of the entrance. He always thought that silence was what he wanted but today, silence was a new form of pain levelling upon him. There was almost no work for him, people normally didn’t die during Valentines’ Day, and the judgment court did not really want his opinion for any cases today so he had plenty of time with his thoughts. The one that stuck was Y/N laying in bed, sleeping, and him watching without being able to stay with her. He knew he’d have to make it up to her somehow, he just didn’t know exactly how.

His eyes settled on the little sunflower she’d given him, beautifully sat on his desk as a reminder of her sunny aura. Bucky wasn’t good with plants, he could never make sure one survived but this one, this one seemed to somehow thrive in the sunless Underworld.

    - Your Highness. - a soft yet repeated knock reverberated through his office, thankfully removing him from his mind. The door was slowly opened to show Hecate in a dishevelled state. The always primely kept red locks were pushed back with most of the hair falling, a concerned look on her face, tensed expression. - We have a problem. 

    - What’s wrong, Hecate? - they had fallen into a strictly professional relationship with the Goddess of Witchcraft not being in agreement with him meeting up with a mortal almost all the time. She sighed, arms crossed in front of her regal purple gown.

    - Someone broke into the Elysium last night. We don’t know why, maybe with some aid but there’s pomegranates missing. - she gestured with her hands, James’ mind filling with worry as those words came out of her mouth. He was gonna be thrown into the tartarus if it came out that someone had stolen the fruit of the dead. - Thanatos thinks he can track it but we’re not entirely sure if someone has consumed it yet. 

     - I thought you had your maidens protecting the fruit of the dead. What happened? - he raised from his desk, knuckles turning white as he grabbed onto it trying not to break out into an anger attack, knowing exactly how Hecate would deal with his anger. She raised an eyebrow at his question, hands coming to rest upon her waist, not believing he was about to blame the loss of the fruit onto one of her maidens.

    -  Look, we can’t exactly say how many pomegranates are missing but if someone has consumed them, they should be able to enter the Underworld. God, they belong to the Underworld now and we don’t need any living mortals in the underworld or any bottom feeders. - James and Hecate were of the opinion that mortals had no place in the underworld. Despite a few trying to make their way in, they would usually only destroy their balance and try and achieve immortality by trying to kidnap Thanatos who was sick and tired of being the target of pesky mortals. Due to this, the maidens of Hecate used to look over the pomegranate tree in the Elysium as pomegranates were the only thing that would lock someone to the underworld. The tree had been born by Persephone’s fallen pomegranate itself, so it was also something that most of the Gods and deities on the underworld took pride in keeping away from others. Looked like his day could get worse after all. - This wouldn’t have happened if you were here last night.

    - Don’t start. - he raised his hand at her in a authoritative way. - Ask Thanatos to go and check with the Fates, surely if a mortal ate it, they probably know. 

The goddess nodded, turning on her back to go and find the God of Death. James sighed, rubbing his hand against his face, fingers coming to pitch his nose bridge. First, Persephone’s Groves start dying and now someone has their hands on the fruit of the death. He couldn’t help but wonder if this could’ve all been avoided if the Underworld didn’t obsess over the memory over the lost Persephone. It had been because of her Hades had forged the fruit, to make sure she could stay with him against Zeus’ and Demeter’s orders. However, after ingesting the seeds, the fruit didn’t need to continue existing, but once again, no one went against Persephone, even with her being dead.

James decided to return to work, maybe it would take his mind away from Y/N and the issues that followed him around constantly. However, instead of calming him down, the newly found state of the sunflower on his desk startled him. The once perky sunny yellow flower seemed to have gained a brownish tint to the edges of the petals, with one falling the moment his eyes settled on the vase. A bad feeling formed in his belly, something suddenly felt wrong, wronger than the Underworld being under damage. No. His mind was going haywire, the flower had been given to him by her, what if she wasn’t alright? He tried to shake his head from those thoughts, he probably just forgot to water it. Nevertheless, he took his phone from his pocket. No messages. She always messaged him in the middle of the day to ask if work was going well but still no messages. He was probably just overreacting, he tried to convince himself that he was just feeling guilty for leaving her. 

Bucky tried to return to work but his issue kept eating at him. One call wouldn’t hurt, just to check on her. He dialed the only contact on his phone, bringing to his ear, expecting to ear her lovely beautiful voice coming from the other line, however, all he could hear was the continuous patterned beep of the phone. 

   - Hecate. - he raised from his desk, opening the door from his office and walking outside to try and find the goddess of witchcraft. She shouldn’t be too far and luckily she was only a few minutes away, berating her maidens for keeping their eyes away from the tree. - You’re coming with me to the mortal realm. 

   - Why would I do that? There’s mortals there. - she gestured for her maidens to return to their job of up keeping the Elysium. - Do you want to see your little girlfriend, is that it? 

   - You forget who you’re talking to. We’re going up there and if you whine once more, I swear I’ll send you to the Tartarus.

   - Sure. - she rolled her eyes, fully knowing he wouldn’t send her to the tartarus. He was a good person but she also knew he could be petty whenever he wanted, besides, going to the mortal realm was always an opportunity to curse some mortals.

He managed to grab her from the Elysium and take her to the mortal realm. It was cloudy, too cold and rainy which did not create a calm environment in his mind. James wondered if she was alright, she had to be alright. Hecate followed him into her street, snickering at how small her flat looked from the outside, giving out snarky remarks as they climbed up the stairs to her flat. 

James warned Hecate to stay back as he knocked on her door, knowing Y/N wouldn’t allow a stranger in her house. He knocked again once he heard no paddling of feet against the hardwood floor or the soft sound of music she always had in the background whenever she was home. 

   - Y/N, it’s James. - he knocked once again, this time harsher as he leaned his head against her door. Maybe she had gone shopping or was doing something with Anne. James hand slid to the handle of her door, mindlessly turning it to the side and much to his surprise, the door was unlocked. He found that odd, she was a privacy freak, always double checking if she had locked her door. Nevertheless, his anxiety took over and he walking inside her home, having been invited in by her several times.

The flat looked exactly like when he left it, somehow tidy with some books and clothing laying around in a still organised form. He went further into her flat, turning his gaze to the kitchen, finding a fruit platter standing by which, by the looks of the fruit flies already taking over, had been sitting there for quite a while. His eyes scanned the whole kitchen, walking into the division until his foot hit something, calling his attention. He lowered to the ground to find that his foot had smashed the half of a pomegranate. His hands went to grab it and before he could inspect it he found Y/N laying on her side on the ground, hair covering her face. Without any other thought, he rushed to her side, pulling her onto his lap and pushing the hair away from her face. As he pulled her softly into his lap, a thud sound was heard, calling for his attention which provided a solution to the sound. A pomegranate escaped from her hand, rolling into some corner of the kitchen. 

  - Sweetness, c’mon. - he rocked her side to side trying to awake her up, but she didn’t, confirming his suspicions. - Fuck. 

He got up from the floor, holding her tightly against his chest like the most precious thing the world had to offer. James left the flat, standing now in front of Hecate who stopped her ministrations to give him the most surprised and confused look he’d ever seen. Eyes widen and mouth opened in a soft O shape. 

  - I found your pomegranate. - he tossed the already rottening fruit onto her hands. 

  - I knew mortals were no good news. 

  - She doesn’t know and she was with me all night, I only left early this morning. She did not steal it, she thinks I work for a company. 

  - Good luck telling Sleeping Beauty she’s doomed to the Underworld.

tag list: @philogrobizedvee​​​  @keithseabrook27​​ @inlovewith3​​19

[welcometoels]

Session Thirteen - Zanthia

After a decidedly mixed few hours in the unfriendly city of Monthend, the party has found themselves in the much more agreeable company of Zanthia, a perky Halfling who works as a waitress-cum-entertainer at The Wayward Alchemist.

It is under her guidance that the team now finds themselves upstairs at the Alchemist, as she leads them past the rooms where the staff entertain their more discerning clientele in private.  She also tells them of the tradition wherein particularly satisfied customers purchase lanterns to be hung on the walls next to the rooms of their favourite workers.

Zanthia’s room is the last, the largest, and the most abundantly illuminated.  Inside, the floors and walls are bedecked with expensive and peculiar gifts from all over Toltirgis.

Also present in the room are three Elves, whom Zanthia introduces; admiring himself in the mirror is the High Elf, Jof Suffers; trying their best to be unnoticed is the Wood Elf, Anemia Rixme; and perched on the edge of the four-poster bed is the Drow, Cailynn Coldcloud, with her clockwork wyvern Moo.

While the first two show little interest in the party, Cailynn takes a moment to introduce herself - perhaps because she sees in them a common yearning to solve the mysteries that have plagued them in life, but more likely because she is played by an actual human person (welcome to the game, Alex!)

Cailynn is an artificer, specialising in alchemy.  Purple of eye and skin, she cuts a dashing figure in black studded leather armour and candyfloss pink hair - though, due to certain magical causes, this changes on a day-by-day basis.

As the team settles in on a plushly cushioned corner of Zanthia’s room, she fills them in on why she has brought them all upstairs.  It transpires that a close friend of hers has been taken hostage by a dangerous group of people - of whom dragon hunter Herrington is a member.  She needs a group of seasoned adventurers to assist in setting them free.

To help pique their interest, Zanthia suggests to Talion that he may well find useful information pertaining to the people who may be tracking him down.  Talion is surprised by how much she knows, but, with a coy smile, she points out that she makes it her business to know as much as she can about new arrivals in the city, and he and his party are the most interesting people to have arrived in a long time.

At this juncture, Jof drops off a hastily scrawled map of the building where Zanthia’s friend is being held, and leaves cautiously.  Zanthia explains that he used to be a member of this dastardly group of kidnappers and dragon killers, and has provided a layout of the building at great personal risk.

There is more to the plan too.  Downstairs, in the back room of the Wayward Alchemist, the guards who form tomorrow night’s shift are playing a friendly game of cards.  Zanthia feel confident that she can get one more player into the game, potentially allowing them to incapacitate the guards somehow, thereby allowing the party to take their places.

Cailynn has just the thing.  Rummaging through her alchemist’s kit, she quickly concocts a mild poison - not enough to kill a person, but certainly sufficient to cause them great intestinal discomfort the next day.

And so, a plan is formed:  Kadis will pose as the player, whilst Oddsock sneaks around dog-style, checking out the other players’ cards and mentally transmitting them using his eldritch powers.  Talion will offer musical distraction, Cailynn will stand ready with the poison, and Julius will be an adorable otter.

In order to help them prepare for this ruse, Zanthia opens up her various closets, with an instruction to take anything they need, but to stay out of the bottom drawer.

Talion is in first, tarting himself up with various ruffs and powders, and perhaps taking it too far.  Oddsock keeps it simpler, with just a top hat, bow tie and monocle.  Julius dons a jaunty poncho, and Cailynn takes feather boas for herself and Moo.  Kadis changes into so smart but comfortable red gear, better matching his new eyewear.

Before they head down, Zanthia bestows a quick blessing upon them, making them all harder to spot when sneaking.  You never know when it might come in handy.

Downstairs, Zanthia has a quick word with the Tiefling bar manager Tabitha - firstly about the game, and secondly about the sleeping man she left at one of her tables.  Tabitha nods, and mutters the words “clean-up on table twelve” into her necklace.

At this, the hulking Golem doorman Stopdick folds himself in through the door.  A path is quickly cleared before him, and he picks up the slumbering lecher and carries him out of the door.  There is a soft clattering of a rubbish bin, and nothing further is seen of heard of either of them.

Inside the back room, the team finds six High Elves around a table, with a jug of booze and a deck of cards.  Kadis strides up to them with unusual brazenness, inviting them all to find out how it feels to be beaten by a blind man.

Amused by his chutzpah, they allow him to join the game.  Kadis sits himself down - successfully feigning blindness, despite his beholder companion being secreted in his eyescarf - and is dealt in.

The game is Raktika Hold’em - a simple poker variant involving two cards per player, five in the river, four rounds of betting and a buy-in of a single copper coin.

The dealer hands out the cards to the players.  Around the table sit Melch, Punsie, Rimothy, Elbothan, Gunnannonnimon and Talion’s nemesis Herrington - a fact that does not go unnoticed by the bard.

Kadis’ hand is promising:

Jammy git.

He throws in his copper, and matches a raise from Herrington - as do the other players.  The river is dealt, revealing an all-important King. Off to a strong start.

Oddsock does a good sneak and ogles the cards of Melch and Punsie - nothing much going on, though the presence of some diamonds in their hands could be an issue.

A round of betting follows, while Talion begins performing a rousing (and hopefully distracting) song for the players.  As he does so, he can’t help put spread a little magic, conjuring up an unpleasant smell from Herrington’s direction.  Gunnannonnimon wrinkles his nose and shifts a little further away.

The fourth card is dealt into the river - a Two of Clubs.  Oddsock can see that this offers nothing to help either Rimothy or Elbothan, both of whom are holding absolute rubbish - not that one would be able to tell based on their bets.

The players go in bold for the next round, and even Kadis allows himself to put in a raise now that four of his six competitors’ cards are in his mind.

The final flop seals the deal - it’s only the bloody King of Spades.  Though he is now sitting on a Three Of A Kind, Kadis does not let this break his poker face, even after Oddsock confirmed that Herrington and Gunnannonnimon have nothing to threaten him.  Delivering a new magical smell into Herrington’s lap, Oddsock returns to Kadis’ side for well-earned scritches.

Emboldened by his sneaky knowledge, Kadis puts in a large raise.  Several players bow out, but Herrington holds fast in the mistaken belief that his pair of fives will bring him anything but embarrassment.  Already troubled by the looks he is receiving for his odour, he puts in a raise of his own, which Kadis matches and raises further with a handful of gold.

A disturbance ensues, with much grumbling about “limits” and “poor manners”.  Between this, the stench and the increasingly raucous music, the stage is set for a sneaky poisoner.  Cailynn sets Moo into flight with a tiny vial, the contents of which he successfully deposits into the jug unseen.

After Moo has returned to his partner, the fracas begins to die down, and somebody proposes a toast to help clear the air.  Drinks are poured from the jug for each of the players - including Kadis.

Ruh-roh.

Seeing this happen, Julius beckons Oddsock over and asks him to connect with him mentally.  Minds linked, the otter tells the dog that he has a certain spell that can remove the effects of poison.  Oddsock passes this intel across to Kadis, who raises his glass and sups with confidence.

Now that the mood is once again convivial, the group excuses themselves to return to Zanthia’s room, wherein Julius lays on his paws and removes the poison from Kadis, thereby avoiding a day of severe intestinal distress.

Settling back into the room, the gang tries to relax - which is easier for some than others.  Julius is uncomfortable with all the skullduggery, and takes a quiet moment in a corner to contemplate the blue pebble that used to be a glowing gem, but which now hangs from his necklace.

He runs his paws over its surface, and tries to recall the intense feeling he got when first he held it, but the emotion of that moment evades him.  Drawing the pebble close to his mouth, he whispers to it:

“Pa...?”

At that moment, each of the former gems and lanterns - even the one in Kadis’ pocket - emits the same sound:

“Pa...?”

Everyone looks at Julius, who looks back with confusion.  A further mystery - albeit a useful one - has now come to light.

With his mind on the gems, Kadis dips his hand into his pocket and withdraws the golden gear.  Taking a bit of a punt while riding high on his modest poker win, he hands it over to Cailynn.  As her fingers meet it, she

Hears the voices of her family for the first time in many years

Hears them pleading with their pursuers

Hears them no longer

She sinks to the ground as the golden gear affixes itself to her silver skull necklace, and becomes very quiet.

After some tentative support from the team, she tells them about the murder of her parents and her 50-year-old sister - still just a child by Elven lifespans - at the hands of a violent group who had been blackmailing them.  Still being young herself, her magic was not enough to save any lives but her own, and she has lived with the guilt ever since.

Talion sympathises and shares his own story of familial woe, as do the others, all of whom have lost family in one way or another.  The mood becomes bleak, so  Zanthia opens up a Dragonborn statue, withdraws a very expensive brandy with several crystal glasses, and proposes a toast to them all, to their friendship, and to the success of their future endeavours.

And with that, to bed.  Most of the group settles right down onto the cushions, though Oddsock has a quick, very educational snuffle around the forbidden drawer, while Julius fidgets nervously, unable to catch sleep.

Zanthia takes to her four poster bed, leaving space for company, and tipping a wink to Talion.  Never one to turn down an opportunity, he joins her as she draws the bed's curtains.  There follows an experimentation with bardic inspiration that shall never be explicitly discussed.

The dreams that follow reflect the day that they’ve all had: Themes of familial loss and gambling abound, but at least there aren’t any tentacles.

In the morning, breakfast is brought up - sausages and regular, non-mimic eggs.  Zanthia asks the group all to be here in her room in the afternoon, but otherwise they have the morning to themselves.

Talion immediately tries to pursue a monetary reward to help refill their dwindling stocks, and speak to Tabitha about a slot performing in the Alchemist.  She requests a sample of his music, and his performance is sufficiently good to earn him a spot onstage during happy hour.  Satisfied, he settles in to hone his art.

Oddsock heads out a-sniffing, to see if he can find any trace of his homeland.  A familiar scent is on the breeze, so he follows it, passing by some priests desperately scrubbing their steps, and finds a barrel storehouse.  Further in, two men are operating brewing equipment, and the scent of hops and malt fills he air.

Oddsock approaches them, and the nearest - a simple fellow named Brando - approaches.  After a deployment of the canine charms, he becomes besotted with Oddsock, and asks his companion Kevinge if he can keep him.

Kevinge is less impressed, so Oddsock delves into his mind and tells him that belly rubs are his only road to salvation - or, at least, that’s what he means to say.  Oddsock is not so good with the long words.

Mistaking the voice in his head for god, Kevinge begins rubbing his own belly and muttering the word ‘salamander’ to himself.  Pleased with his morning’s work, Oddsock trots away.

Also out on the town is Julius.  In an attempt to reconnect with nature, he goes out looking for foliage.  Though the city is very built up, there are a couple of trees here and there, and it is towards one of these that he strays.

Resting a paw upon it, he channels his druidic magic and begins to speak to it.  The spell works, though the tree does not have much wisdom to offer.  It has stood for long and seen much, but its only concerns are the soil, the water and the sun.

It turns out that this is just what Julius needed - a few calm, relaxing words from nature to soothe his anxious soul.  He meanders in the sunshine, a much happier otter.

Cailynn is on a natural quest of her own, but for nothing quite as pure as Julius.  The poison she made last night depleted her mushroom stocks, so she is hunting around for something unpleasant for future efforts.

Though mushrooms and toadstools are nowhere to be found, she does finds a promisingly thick collection of mould behind some bins.  Scraping it into a little container, she adds it to her alchemy kit for later perusal.

In a nearby library, Kadis is sat with a stack of books on the topic of local history.  He is trying to read up on his old home town of Amberstall, and anything that may have happened to it after the event that robbed him of his sight and his family.

Unfortunately, the only books he can find are too old, and the entries only refer to Amberstall as the modest farming town he remembers from his youth.  He does also find an entry about Thornhelm, the town he helped defend against bandits, though again, there is no mention of that event.

Mostly, he is just happy to be reading again, and takes his time leafing through a few tomes in peace.

As the team members begin to return to the Wayward Alchemist, Talion starts playing.  Though his audition was just adequate, his afternoon performance is exquisite.  Even the taciturn Tabitha pauses her work to watch him, and once he is finished, she hands him a purse of gold and a little bottle of good brandy as a tip.

All together again, the group heads upstairs, where a strange woman awaits.  Long of ear and sharp of uniform - just like the guards of last night - she stand just shy of five feet tall in her stacked but professional boots.

The adventurers are cautious, but Oddsock catches a familiar whiff of perfume.

This is Zanthia.  And she’s ready to get to work.

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

Boston Boys [Part One]

Summary: Dr. Aurelie Juneau treats someone in the emergency room she shouldn’t, and get a visit from her brother a few days later.  Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC, John Krasinski x OFC Word Count: 1700 Chapter Warnings: Hospital setting and treatment, mentions of guns, implied crime.  Square Filled: The entire series (bits and pieces of it) will fill my Crossover square for @marvelfluffbingo​.  A/N: This story contains a character who lost her hearing as she got older. I do work closely and regularly with the D/deaf community (I’m a sign language interpreter), but my own hearing problems do not involve significant hearing loss. It is not my intention to offend anyone, only to bring in a character with a quality I don’t see often in other fics. If you have questions about her, feel free to ask :)

A busy emergency room wasn’t an unusual thing, especially in Boston, but tonight the chaos was weighing down on Aurelie. She pulled the magnet piece of her cochlear implant away from her head in an effort to drown out the sound for a few peaceful seconds. She stretched her neck from side to side, then rested her head in her hands. The near-silence was a welcome reprieve from the things weighing on her mind.

A tap on her shoulder prompted her to replace the magnet against her head and turn to see who was beckoning her. A nurse handed Aurelie a chart.

“The guy in room five is refusing to let anyone examine him or anything until he sees you. Says he’s got a lac, I see blood on his shirt.”

Aurelie frowned. “He seem legit?”

The nurse shrugged. “Seems like any run of the mill guy, middle class, whatever. We called security down, they’re waiting by the room.”

“All right.” She flipped through a few pages of the chart. “I don’t recognize the name, but I’ll check him out.”

She stood from the desk where she had been charting and skimmed over the rest of the chart as she walked. The curtain to room five was pulled closed for privacy, but the sliding doors were still open. Normally such a room would have been reserved for a psych patient or a near-trauma. Aurelie suspected that the nature of this patient’s refusal to speak to anyone but her had something to do with his room placement.

The request for her services was another common occurrence in the emergency room. Though no one, including most of her patients, particularly knew why she did it, Aurelie treated any injury or sickness that came into the ER, and she did so with a discretion that, at times, was outside of the law. Her casual manner about the treatments often went unnoticed by her co-workers, or didn’t bother any of them enough for them to speak up. If you lived in Boston and got tangled up in some mess that got you hurt but you didn’t want the authorities involved, you went to MassGen and asked for Dr. Juneau. That’s just the way it was.

Pulling the curtain to the side, she kept her facial expression neutral, as she would with any patient. She surveyed the man laying on the bed; at least six-two, maybe a buck-eighty in weight. Brown hair, face pale -- from his injury, Aurelie figured. She set the chart on the metal tray and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m Dr. Juneau. You asked for me?”

The man nodded. “I’ve heard that you’ll take care of someone and not put anything sketchy on the books.”

Aurelie licked her lips, pulling her bottom lip between her front teeth. She flipped on all of the lights in the room and surveyed the man again; his face was only vaguely familiar. Regardless, she wasn’t going to put herself on radar by causing a scene. So, she stepped out through the curtain again and told security they could go.

“He’s an old family friend, scared of hospitals. I’ll talk to him about it.”

The two guards who had come down from their bubble shrugged and left. Aurelie asked the nurse to give her a few minutes before she came back into the room. She donned a pair of gloves and disappeared back behind the curtain. After hooking him up to a heart monitor and a blood pressure cuff, she checked his temperature and respirations. With all of vitals noted, she took a seat on the rolling stool and asked where his laceration was located.

The man pulled his shirt up to reveal a cut above his left hip bone, pulling around to his abdomen. Aurelie positioned herself on the side of the bed and took a closer look at the cut.

“How’d you get this?”

“Does it matter?”

“Fair enough.” She rolled to the door and asked the nurse to bring a laceration kit. While she waited, Aurelie got a clean washcloth and doused it with sterilized water. She cleaned the dried blood from the area, then sat and waited in silence. When the nurse came with the lac kit, Aurelie sent the chart with her, and got ready to stitch the man up.

“This is gonna sting, but it’s better than taking the stitches raw,” Aurelie assured, injecting lidocaine to several places in and around the cut. She waited a little longer, then poked him with the needle again. When he didn’t even flinch, she knew she could start the stitches. “Do you need a tetanus shot?”

“Don’t think so.”

Other than that, she went to work in silence, quickly and neatly stitching up the cut, making sure the scar would be straight and minimal. The cut was halfway stitched when he spoke again.

“What’s that above your ear?”

Aurelie pursed her lips, completing two more stitches before answering him. “It’s called a cochlear implant. It helps me hear, to a certain degree.”

“You’re deaf?”

“I wasn’t always. Slowly started to lose my hearing as I got older, sometime in high school, it dropped out completely from the left side. Right side is there, but not nearly a hundred percent. They still don’t know why.” She bit her bottom lip as she struggled to knot the stitch she had just completed on. “My turn?”

He frowned. “What?”

“You asked me two questions. Now I get to ask you two questions, right?”

“I guess.”

Aurelie nodded. “Are you from Boston?”

He laughed. “The accent didn’t give it away?”

She smiled. “You needed to lighten up. It was worth wasting a question. What’s your real name?”

“My real name?”

“I know it’s not Boris Schmidt, even if that’s what’s on your chart.”

The man said nothing, and Aurelie knew better than to push the issue. They fell into silence again while Aurelie finished the stitches and bandaged the area. She left for a few minutes to fill out his dismissal papers, then returned to educate him on the aftercare.

“What are you going to put in my chart?”

Aurelie shrugged. “That you came in with a lac to your lower left flank and quadrant, there was no sign of infection or organ disturbance, that I stitched you up and sent you on your way. Nothing more, nothing less.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

Aurelie snapped her gloves into the trash can and turned back to him. “You’re welcome. Good luck.”

At the curtain, Aurelie thought she caught him say something, but had to turn back around to ask him to repeat.

“John,” he smiled. “My name is John. Krasinski.”

Aurelie’s smile faded. “Krasinski?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, “it’s a weird one, I know.”

Aurelie nodded. “Do me a favor, John. Don’t tell anyone that I treated you.”

With that, she pulled the curtain closed behind her and went back to her desk to chart and catch up with her other patients.

GIF found via Pinterest search. 

Three days later, another hospital shift. Fortunately, this night was not nearly as busy as her last shift. When Aurelie’s pager went off and she saw the code 613, she finished the current orders she was working on, then made way for the parking lot just outside of the emergency room lobby.

Her brother, Chris, was leaned against his car, a classic American muscle number, smoking a cigarette.

“You know this is a hospital, they’ll fine you for smoking outside of the designated area, dumbass.”

Chris turned with a chuckle, tossing the cigarette to the ground and put it out with the toe of his boot. “Better? Here. Your ma packed lunch for you.”

“That was nice of her,” Aurelie replied, taking the brown bag from him. “What’d she pack for you?”

“A nine mil and a wish that I wasn’t so much like my father. The usual.” He opened the driver’s side door of the car and reached in for another bag. “This is from him, by the way.”

Aurelie checked that no one was watching them and shoved the bag back at Chris. “I don’t want that shit, and you know it. I didn’t earn it, neither did you, neither did he. I don’t need it.”

“Aur, listen, all right? Hey, don’t make that damn face. Yeah, we’ve been over this a million times, we’re gonna fuckin’ go over it again. You’re his kid, whether you ever wanted to be or not. Maybe he’s not the dad you were born to, but he’s the one you ended up with. He’s just trying to take care of you.”

“He’s not over what happened. He still thinks my deafness is his fault, and if he pays me off long enough, I’ll come back to the family. Can’t you see that?”

Chris pursed his lips. “Why can’t you stop putting me in the middle of this?”

Aurelie groaned and tucked the extra bag into her white coat. “Fine.”

“All right.” He pulled another cigarette from the pack and held it between his lips but didn’t light it. “You been holdin’ up all right?”

“Yeah, of course. I can hold my own. You made sure of that.” She decided to take a chance and mention her patient from the other night. “Hey, you remember that guy who went to the high school, he was a year ahead of you -- John Krasinski?”

“Fuck that guy,” was Chris’s immediate response. “He and his family could jump into the river and not come back up and I’d keep walking.”

“Tell me how you really feel,” Aurelie snorted. “So that thing with your family and his, that’s still a thing?”

Chris nodded, tossing his cigarette lighter up and down in the palm of his hand. “Hell yeah, it’s still a thing. They’ll learn one day that we run shit, though. What made you think of him?”

“I don’t know. Random thought, I guess.”

The expression on her brother’s face told Aurelie he was going to be watching her carefully over the coming weeks. She thanked him for the food and went back into the hospital, careful to put the bag of money into her backpack before anyone else suspected something was amiss.

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @hurricanerin​ @horsesandbandsforlife​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​ @captain-rogers-beard​ @shynara51​ @sea040561​ @anxiouskore​ @pinknerdpanda​ @xtina2191​ @jackryanplz​ @beakami​ @heartsaved​ @fullprunerebelstatesman​ @blackwidowismyhomegirl

Boston Boys: @atc74​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​ @becs-bunker​ @shield-agent78​ @patzammit​ @crazyandanonymous4u

[otonymous]

A Moment In Time (MLQC Victor - NSFW)

Description: Things get wet and wild with Victor Warnings:  NSFW/18+:  Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.  Spoilers for the “Rooftop Date” with Victor, very mild spoilers for main plot Word Count: 3011 words (~15 mins of angst/fluff/smut) AO3: read here

Author’s Notes: I got a couple of requests for something spicy with Victor, and @leoamber66 specifically requested a story inspired by the karma card depicted above, so I decided to amalgamate that scene along with one of the production scenarios and his “Rooftop Date.”  The lines marked with an asterisk were taken directly from the date.  Hope you all enjoy it and happy reading!

Tagging: @leoamber66 @kitsune-mana

All characters & Mr Love: Queen’s Choice owned by Elex

“I miss you…”*

God, I must be drunk, you think to yourself, trying to suppress the sick lurch of your stomach. No doubt you’ve had too much to drink if you’re hearing Victor’s voice in your head, an echo of the phone call he made to you at an ungodly hour that very morning.

Despite your brain fog, you vaguely recall him mentioning something about France before the line went dead, shortly after you informed him he had dialled the wrong number. The memory of the affection in his fatigued voice brought a rush of heat to your cheeks, but you chalked it up solely to the alcohol in your veins.

Carefully stepping around the pool on the roof of the building and moving beyond eyeshot of patrons in the adjacent restaurant, you lean against the ledge, looking out over the twinkling lights of a city too bright to sleep, the breeze blowing off the river below caressing your face.

And somewhere in those neon pinks, yellows and greens, you see Victor’s face: the firm set of his masculine jaw, strong brows furrowed in displeasure...his eyes, cool and assessing, as he tut-tutted at your inability to hold your alcohol.

“Yup. That’s exactly the type of face he’d make,” you say, the night wind spiriting your words away as soon as they leave your lips.

You hoped you didn’t make a complete ass of yourself in front of all those telecommunications CEOs Victor invited you to dine with. But in all honesty, everything after your second shot of Moutai was a blur. That was the one thing you could never get used to in this industry: the hard drinking culture that came part and parcel with sealing business deals.

And as you sat there watching these ruddy-faced men throw back the alcohol like it was water, the respect you already had in spades for your father deepened. How many nights did he spend entertaining those so-called VIPs, his liver and gut paying the price in securing funding for the company? The thought that you could never thank him again for all the sacrifices he made for your family stung like smoke in your eyes.

And what of Victor, who made up some excuse or another to intercept most of the shots that came your way?

You shake your head, chasing the thought away. Victor is a big boy. He can handle himself. He’d just scoff at your concern if he ever learned about it.

So with your mood sunk low by the dull ache of longing for your father and the prospect of a horrible morning hangover, you excused yourself and left Victor behind with the group of middle-aged men, expressly ignoring the look he shot you as you exited the private room of the Michelin-starred restaurant.

You preferred the food at Souvenir anyways.

“How long are you planning to stand there like an idiot? Everyone has already left and you’ve blown a perfect opportunity to forge business connections.”

The sudden appearance of Victor’s voice — this time, outside your head — makes you jump, his sharp tone grating against the headache already forming at your temples. And while you were grateful for his help, tonight was not one of those times when you could stomach his delivery. To your dismay, he was only getting started.

“You really don’t care about the future of your comp-“

“I’m sorry, Victor. You’re completely right. I shouldn’t have excused myself like that. Could you please, just…leave me in peace tonight?”

Sighing, you turn to face him, seeing Victor for what seemed like the very first time tonight: backlit by wavering aquamarine waters, the ethereal glow softened his features, and even you had to admit he was incredibly handsome when his face wasn’t pulled into a frown.

Tall and broad, his white dress shirt lay crisp against a beautifully toned chest, and the entirety of the man exuded an aura of power, wealth, and the determination to have the world in the palm of his capable hand.

Despite all this, the only thing you could focus on was the tenderness that suffused his gaze as his eyes met your own.

“I miss you…”*

In the ensuing silence, Victor’s voice, travelling thousands of miles to whisper in your ear with a single phone call, came back to haunt you at the worst possible time.

Don’t look at me like that.

Throat growing uncomfortably tight, you tug on the satin collar of your red dress — the motion recalling the time Victor had hurriedly readjusted his tie after Chik left his office. But not before the up-and-coming actress had given you a cold once-over.

For all that she was unpleasant however, she was also gorgeous. And standing next to Victor, they looked like they belonged together.

Please don’t look at me like that, not when I’m not the one in your heart.

Perhaps it was the alcohol. Or the fatigue of working endless days and nights, trying to keep your father’s legacy afloat. Whatever it was, the memory irritated you, and you wanted nothing more than to be as far away as possible from Victor and his unsettling gaze.

“I’ll have the progress report ready for you on Thursday. Thanks again for dinner.”

Bidding Victor goodnight, you brace yourself against your wobbly knees, stepping around him in stilettos you weren’t used to walking in as you made for the restaurant’s entrance.

But then he reaches for your wrist, holding you in place - the grip comfortable despite being firm.

“You got a call this morning, didn’t you?”*

His voice is low and gentle, so contrary to the imperious way by which he usually addressed you. And as the heat of his touch penetrated the delicate skin of your wrist, you guessed that he must be inebriated, conveniently ignoring the signs that indicated otherwise.

“What did you hear?”* The LFG CEO pressed on, the strength of his grip not abating.

“Just a few simple sentences. I won’t blab to anyone…”*

Victor’s lips fall open, neither confirming nor denying as uncertainty danced across his face. So sure in the way he carried himself professionally, his vacillation now enraged you for reasons you could not comprehend. And before you could stop yourself, the words spill from a tongue loosened by alcohol.

“Why don’t you go visit her if you miss her so much?”*

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you continue, masochistically twisting the blade embedded so deeply in your heart you liked to pretend it didn’t exist.

“As long as the two of you are in love, nothing can get in the way of that. She…I think she must be a beautiful and gentle person…”*

Blinking, you push back the sting behind your eyelids, ignoring it like you ignored the despondency you felt every time rumours of Victor’s supposed significant other splashed across headlines of media outlets everywhere.

“You talk too much.”*

Gone is Victor's hushed tone, replaced by the simmer of an indignant anger that threatened to boil over. Reflexively, you step backwards as Victor closes in on you. And as the ground disappears beneath your feet, the last thing you see before falling into the pool is the panic in his eyes.

The chlorine burned as it travelled up your nose, adding to the fear that gripped you when you realized that, even in stilettos, you couldn’t touch the bottom of the pool. Desperately trying to surface, you cursed your inability to swim as you fought against the wet drag of your clothes, your frenzied movements carrying you farther and farther away from the edge of the pool.

All of a sudden, the waters around you violently displace as strong arms wrap around your waist, guiding you to safety.

And with that first breath of air filling your lungs, you are struck by such intense nostalgia you cannot help but look around, surprised to find yourself in a rooftop pool instead of a sunshower in the middle of a busy street, the car that would’ve careened into you already speeding off into the distance.

The only thing that hasn’t changed is the sensation of being held tightly in the arms of a man who always arrived in the nick of time: Victor.

He moves you onto the ledge of the pool, and it isn’t until your coughing subsides that you realize everything seems strangely still. The flashing lights that cascade along the length of a nearby tower like falling dominoes had frozen in place. Turning towards the restaurant, you see diners through the floor-to-ceiling windows, utensils raised in mid-air en route to open mouths like some comical tableau. Finally, you look down to see Victor still half-submerged in the pool, head resting on your thighs while his heaving chest gradually slowed.

The glint of his vintage Patek Philippe wristwatch catches your eye.

“You…you stopped time?”

He raises his head, fixing you with an incredulous stare.

“That’s the first thing you think to say after I just saved your life again?”

Snappy retort not forthcoming, you focus instead on the way he combed a large hand through wet strands of jet black hair, unable to tear away from the sight of a water droplet running down the bridge of his nose to rest at the cupid’s bow of his lips.

And suddenly, you burned hot despite the damp clothing laying cool against your skin.

“Or perhaps you’re fine with everyone seeing you the way you are now?”

Of course. Victor was right, as always. Your up-do had completely disintegrated and wet satin clung to your body, outlining every curve in a way that left little to the imagination. And although his tone had been sharp, you were touched to find him attentive to such a detail.

“Wait here and don’t move,” he says, starting to swim towards the pool ladder. But before you can even process your actions, you’ve already grasped his arm, feeling the impressive flex of his bicep under your grip.

“Why did you get angry?”

You did not know where this bravado had come from, for your impromptu dip in the water had an immediately sobering effect. But the surprise that flashed across his face was strangely satisfying, goading you on.

“Did I touch a nerve earlier?”

Victor drops his gaze, seeming to contemplate the question. And although time had stopped, you grew more and more impatient as you awaited his response.

“You tried to encourage me when you thought I was courting another woman.”*

Accusatory. Hostile even. His voice was every bit what you had come to expect from Victor. But the hurt in his eyes was a surprise that filled you with regret, sinking to the pit of your stomach like a stone.

But perhaps it was a diamond in the rough — a glimmer of hope hiding behind the meaning of his words. And if it was, did you have the courage to reach out and touch it?

As intuitive as Victor’s business acumen was, perhaps he had already seen through you, for his lips were on yours before you could even react, water spilling onto the ledge as he hoisted himself onto your body, arms encircling you for the second time that night.

The alcohol on his breath. The scratch of his five-o’clock shadow. The softness of lips that were as endearing as rare when curled up into a secret smile. Victor’s kiss was so intoxicating you desperately searched for signs you weren’t slumped over your desk at work, dreaming in fitful sleep.

But the insistent press of his body against yours told you this was real. And the way you melted in his embrace brought with it the realization that even if you were dreaming, you did not wish to wake.

His tongue drawing slow circles about your own, your world slowly tilted under Victor’s control until all that filled your vision were the striking features of his face amidst the backdrop of an ebony sky. By then, you were already caught between wet ground and the subtle grind of his pelvis against your core.

Slightly breathless, Victor pulls back to study you with naked intensity before bringing your palm to rest against his solid chest. And as his large hand covers yours, the racing heart beneath it beats electric through the fabric of his now-transparent shirt.

“When will you finally get it?”*

The plea in his voice sounds so foreign for having come from his lips, and when his question is met with silence, he continues,

“Dim-witted as you are, let me spell it out for you.”

Free hand reaching for the knot of his tie, Victor removes it with a single yank.

“So there’s no room for misunderstanding.”

Thumb and forefinger deftly undo the top button of his shirt before sliding to the next in line.

“I would never go near another woman…”*

Smooth skin pulled taut over muscle and sinew, more and more of his bared torso gradually comes into view.

“…when all I want is you.”*

Hands finally dropping to his sides, Victor pauses, exposed and patiently awaiting your response. And although you weren’t sure if your pulse throbbed in time to his heartbeat or your own, nothing felt more certain than the compulsion that made you fist your hand around his loosened collar, pulling him down to quench the desire raging through your body.

Surreal, like a scene from a movie, you watched your reflection off the glass panes of the restaurant’s windows, putting on a show for the unwitting patrons within as Victor bent to run his tongue along the column of your neck. And when you gasp to feel him sucking at the tender flesh, he intertwines his fingers with yours, squeezing as he rejoiced in the thrill of marking you for the world to see.

“Mmm, Victor!”

You barely suppress a moan as he kisses down your bare legs, stopping just as he reaches your ankles. Looking up, he taps his watch and says,

“Scream as loudly as you want, no one can hear you. No one…besides me, that is.”

The subtle flush on his cheeks made him even more alluring as he unbuckled the delicate straps of your heels, gently sliding them off before pressing kisses to the sensitive arch of your feet.

And caught up in the eroticism of the moment, you’re barely cognizant of the path the hem of your dress has travelled until it’s resting around your hips, Victor’s gaze falling on the promise beckoning in the space between your legs. His eyes darken with a primal hunger, bottom lip disappearing behind the bite of even, white teeth.

Exacting. Arrogant. Ruthless. You had thought all these things of Victor when he first announced Loveland Financial Group was pulling funding for your company. Never in a million years did you imagine you’d have the CEO between your legs, cheek rubbing against the lace panties looped around your thigh like a bridal garter as he made you tremble with every flick of his talented tongue against your clit. And when your back arched to feel the sure slide of his long fingers deep into your pussy, the wonder in his gaze makes you think that this was something he, too, never anticipated.

But life has a funny way of bringing people together, and there was no denying how right it felt to have Victor penetrate you to the hilt, dropping tender kisses at the corners of your lips as he rode out the undulating flutters of you clenching tightly around his sizeable cock.

“You feel…so good….”

He whispers in your ear, the warm pants of his exertion incendiary against your skin.

“Would it be okay if I didn’t hold back?”

Eyes dark with desire search you, their corners crinkling as he breaks into a smile as natural as it is breathtaking when you nod. And when you almost think to point out that he really is quite handsome with a grin on his face, Victor takes the words from your mouth when he wraps your legs around his waist, saying,

“Hold on tight.”

You had always guessed that Victor had no shortage of muscle beneath those bespoke suits, but your suspicions were now confirmed with the effortless way he bounced you in mid-air, your arms looped tightly around his neck to anchor yourself against the incredible depths he was reaching within you.

And just when you bordered on the verge of exhilarated breathlessness, Victor’s release finds your own, the warmth he leaves behind slowly trickling down the inside of your thigh as he pulls out.

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

“W-what happened to the two of-”

“Goldman, get the car.”

The LFG CEO’s stern command was more than enough to send his assistant scrambling to obey, dropping any further questions as to why the two of you looked like drowned rats.

Drawing the lapel of Victor’s suit jacket closer over your chest, the spicy notes of his cologne recalled the way it smelled on the skin of his neck, and you couldn’t help but steal a glance his way.

But Victor already had his eyes trained in your direction, ignoring the scandalized stares of diners in the vicinity as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, seemingly amused by your attempt to draw back.

“V-Victor! What if rumours start flying about you?” You hiss under your breath, turning away so he couldn’t see you blush.

“So what? It’s not like the rumours are unfounded in this case. You have to stop worrying about what others think. The only opinion that matters is mine.”

You whirl around, incredulous, only to find yourself in his arms again — the world falling silent once more as Victor steals another moment in time, his kiss stretching an instant into an eternity of bliss.

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

Thank you so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

[musicallibrarian93]

Summer Daisies (An Elain x Tarquin fanfic)

Chapter 1 | Word Count: 4301 | Rating: M

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29978781/chapters/73803669

Elain revelled in the early morning sunlight. The light of day making its ascent as she sat on her balcony overlooking the lavish gardens of the River house. She had a book in hand and drank deeply from her tea. Summer solstice was one of her favourite days of the year. She looked back on the past 10 years and smiled at the memories of how her and her family had often celebrated on the longest day of the year.

This year Tarquin had invited them to Adriata to celebrate with them and Elain was beyond excited. She’d visited the Summer court only a few times, but it always fascinated her. The way the sea was so bright, and the salty air calmed her. She also wasn’t complaining about how beautiful Summer’s males were.

She’d decided to reject the bond between her and Lucien just over five years ago, and he’d taken it surprisingly well. Nothing had happened to cause the rift; After the war Elain had just wanted to be independent, to see what life she could make not tied to a male but the bond had still laid between them  and it was easy enough to ignore it, especially as Lucien spent more time away, but that time spent where they had been mates but not mated was horrible because other males looked at her like she was taken, not that she’d set her sights on anyone in particular, but Elain didn’t like being seen as someone’s property. She was better than that. After rejecting the bond though, something still didn’t feel right, and Elain had needed more time to find her feet again.

However, something had shifted in the past few months. She was stronger and more confident than ever, joining the Valkyries for training and studying in the library when she wasn’t tending the gardens, but she looked at her sisters and her best friend Azriel who had people they were sharing their lives with, and Elain wasn’t ashamed to say she wanted to know what that was like too. Her sisters and Azriel had been fortunate to be mated to people who they loved with every ounce of their being. She knew that even without the mating bond they would have all chosen their mates. And that’s what Elain wanted, to choose. So, Elain rose from her chair, stepped into her bedroom and got ready to embrace all the world had to offer.

——

Nesta walked into Elain’s room as if she owned the place, with a multitude of dresses in hand. “I think I have a few really good choices here.” She said as a way of greeting,

“Let me see!” Elain squealed helping her carry the heavy fabrics. They were truly gorgeous. She could see Pastels and florals and lace; she did love this. Especially sharing it with her sister.

“Okay, so I have my eye on the Green one or the Royal blue one, but I don’t think you’ll mind if I claim either of those.”

“Certainly not,” Elain said as she stroked over a light pink gown that was now draped over her bed, “You’re right Nesta, these are gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” She said back, “But I’d hurry up and lay claim to one before Feyre comes.”

Elain glanced at all the gowns on display. She knows she shouldn’t have left it till the last moment but that was all part of the excitement. Somewhere along the way it had become a tradition for the girls to get ready together for events and Elain was so thankful that they had grown close enough to do that. “I’m going to go with this one.” Elain said, choosing a gorgeous Silky pale teal dress that had white flowers embroidered at the bottom of the skirt. When she turned it around, she saw it appeared backless with those same white flowers attached to a mesh that’d make it look as if they were stuck to her skin. This was the dress. “Good Choice.” Nesta remarked.

“I hope you two haven’t taken the good ones,” Feyre said in greeting, “I finally got the Children dressed so now Rhys just has to make sure they don’t spill anything on themselves.”

“Is Lyla excited?” Elain asked smiling at the memory of her niece showing off the dress they had bought for the occasion,

“So excited. It’s her first proper ball.” Feyre said, “She kept asking if she was going to dance with a prince tonight.”

“Well, I don’t hold a chance of catching a male’s eye if Lyla is there.” Elain laughed,

“She’s Six.” Feyre said,

“And already planning on seducing Princes at a ball,” Elain smiled once more, “Maybe she’s more like her Auntie Nesta than we thought.” Nesta just smiled broadly at that, proud that little Lyla was a little ball of energy, insistent on wreaking havoc and having fun.

“Just wait till you have children, Nes.” Feyre said, “I’m desperate to see what kind of trouble a little Cassian could stir.”

“Perhaps it might not be too long- “

“Nesta are you Pregnant?!” Elain basically screamed,

“No, Gods, No,” She got out quickly, “But we’ve been talking about it, having children.”

“That’s wonderful.” Feyre said hugging her sister,

“Thank you. On our last trip oversees we realised how lovely it might be for a child to travel and grow up seeing the world.”

“I’m so happy for you.” Elain said cupping her cheeks, a tear threatening to spill,

“Don’t get too excited just yet, it might be another few decades before it happens.”

“Do you guys ever think about what it would be like if we were still human,” Elain said, “How it’d be utterly unrealistic to wait decades to have children.”

“I mean Rhys and I hardly waited, but I do think about it.”

“I would not have married someone nearly as handsome.” Nesta said,

“I’d have married a horrible man and become a trophy.” Elain gagged at that thought,

“I’d have probably died a Spinster.” Feyre said,

“Come on, you had men fawning over you.” Nesta said,

“I’d hardly call Isaac Hale a man.” Feyre said causing Elain to giggle,

“Regardless, I’m grateful for this life.” Elain said,

“Me too.” Nesta and Feyre said as one,

“Did I walk in on a mushy moment?” Gwyn asked peering round the door,

“Gwyn! Come in I have the perfect dress for you.” Nesta said,

“Good, I’ve been struggling to find something.”

“I’m positive this will have Az on his knees.” Nesta said with a grin. The rest of the girls laughed in response.

It was going to be a good day. Elain could feel it in her bones.

——

The first thing that caught Elain’s eye was the Chandelier. It sparkled beneath the sun that was filtering through a skylight. The entire ball room was stunning, dressed in beautiful yellows, whites and teal. She had chosen the perfect dress. She loved how daisy garlands were strung from the ceilings and how the ballroom had an entire side that opened onto the gardens beyond the palace.

The second thing that caught her eye was The High Lord of Summer, donned in white with Golden cuffs that matched the Gold that lined his eyes, strolling towards them. He was gorgeous.

Of course, she’d met him before. The last they had talked properly was at the sporting events that had occurred a few years ago. Every decade there were inter-court Sunball games. These hadn’t been held for the best part of a Century with Amarantha’s reign and then the war with Hybern and then everything that went down with the mortal queens, but they’d held the first one in the summer two years ago. Elain hadn’t known much about sports, she knew people would compete in the mortal realms in different events, but she’d never deigned to care, but when she’d heard a rather enthusiastic Tarquin cheering his team on in one of the early matches, Elain had asked him to explain the game to her. The games had become much more interesting after that and she’d find any excuse to be near him during matches, even when they played against the Night Court.

Nothing had come of it though, she hadn’t wanted anything to come from it at the time, but now seeing him, calm, ethereal and downright stunning. Elain was re-evaluating why she hadn’t seen him that way before.

“Welcome,” Tarquin said in that deep voice of his sending goosebumps up Elain’s arm. It was boiling hot here, she shouldn’t be shivering, “It’s lovely to see you again.” He said clasping Rhys forearm, then giving Feyre a big hug and finally bumping a fist with Nyx. They had become incredibly close; Mostly down to the fact that Nyx had summer court powers. It had always been a thought, one no doubt all the High Lord’s had pondered, what powers would Feyre’s children possess; If she had the power of Seven High Lords would that pass down to her children or would they all receive something different. Nyx was already showing signs of immense power, but Summer’s called to him the most. Tarquin had lovingly offered to train with him and give him a safe environment to explore and master that magic.

“Excuse me, are you a prince?” We all looked down to see Lyla tugging on the High Lords robes. Feyre quickly pulled her away,

“No sweetie, Tarquin is like Mummy and daddy.” Mor explained to her,

“You’re a High Lord?” She asked in that adorable voice,

“I am,” He answered crouching down, “I believe you are Lyla.”

“Daddy says I’m a princess.” She said with a proud smile,

“Well, I believe a princess should get to show off that pretty dress.” He stood and took the little girl’s hand and led them into the gardens where the festivities were in full bloom.

Elain was blushing now and did not hide it when Tarquin glanced back at her. He was so good with her niece and nephew she could’ve swooned right there but instead she moved to Morrigan who was holding her wife’s hand. She almost didn’t want interrupt Emerie and her but Mor had already caught that Elain wanted to ask something. “Tell me about Tarquin.” Elain said,

“He’s Kind, Gorgeous, great with Children, supports those born into low-ranking families. But I think you already know all of that.” Mor said with a wink,

“But he’s never been married, no mate?” Elain asked,

“There are rumours his mate rejected him while he was still young, but he’s never confirmed that. I imagine like most he’s had lovers but none serious enough for us outside the palace to know of. He is young, soon to be a century, but I imagine his life has been so chaotic he might not have thought of romance.”

“He was not expecting to be High Lord, was he?”

Mor’s voice dropped so a soft whisper, “No, his cousin was killed by Amarantha. He’d tried to escape Under the Mountain and was caught; Rhys lied about his accomplices in order to save Tarquin’s life who had also tried to get him out.”

“He’s doing a great job considering everything he’s been through.”

“Maybe you should tell him that.” Mor said with that smirk, Emerie nodding along

“I think Lyla has already claimed him.” The three laughed in tandem, looking at the little girl holding onto his hand.

“Maybe you could ask him to dance.” Mor said suggestively,

“Maybe I will.”

——

Elain felt like her feet might fall off. She’d been dancing for hours not just with her brother in-laws but with Azriel and her nephew too. It had been so wonderful. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d danced this much and felt so free. She suspected the wine probably had something to do with her giddiness, Cresseida had told her it had been made by the very grapes that grew in the courtyard. Elain had tried many different wines while being Fae, but this was the most delicious.

She was just happy. She was living, truly living. The stolen glances towards the High Lord also made her feel more alive than ever before. He was wrapped in his Host duties but each look or smile he shot her way had her heart beating fast. It was a good job he’d invited them to stay for a few days or she might have been sad they had not gotten the chance to speak.

It was now early evening, and the sun was beginning to fade. The longest day of the year was coming to an end. She saw Feyre on the other side of the ball room and made her way towards her,

“Have you seen, Lyla?” Feyre asked, “She keeps running off, but we need to put her to bed.”

“I think she’s enjoyed it today.” Elain said, scanning the room and the gardens beyond,

“She basically ate the entire banquet table.” Feyre said with a laugh,

“Oh,” Elain said pointing outside, “I see her. She’s… with Tarquin.”

“Thank the mother,” Feyre said, letting out a sigh of relief, “I’ll get her.”

“No, let me.” Elain said,

She took a deep breath and walked towards the High Lord. It might have been the wine or the self-confidence she’d built over the past years, but she held her head high and didn’t shy away when he looked at her and smiled once more,

“Elain,” he said by greeting,

“Tarquin,” she smiled back, then turned to her niece, “Lyla, I believe your parents are looking for you.”

“They are, but I’m not tired yet, and I want to dance.” The little girl said, trying not to yawn,

“I know, Sweetie, but…” she couldn’t think of the right words to say as Tarquin had come to stand so close to her,

“But” he continued for her, “I promised your Auntie Elain a dance before the party was over.”

“Okay.” The girl said,

“You’re here for a few more days, I promise to take you around the City and to dance with you before you go home.” He said with such a loving smile, and then looked to Elain as if the offer applied to her too.

“Okay,” Lyla said again, “Goodnight Mr High Lord, Goodnight Auntie El.” Elain picked up the little girl and gave her a big kiss before sending her to where her mother stood waiting. Tarquin stood beside her and watched as Lyla left the ballroom.

“She loves you.” Elain just said to him,

“She’s a very sweet little girl and her brother too.” The pair looked over at Nyx who was standing with Cassian, looking like they were up to no good. Elain let out a small giggle. “Have you enjoyed the day?”

“I have. It’s so beautiful here.”

“Well, you certainly fit in.” Did he just call her beautiful? “So, May I have this dance?” She just glanced at him, and the beautiful blue of his eyes were as beautiful as the ocean beyond them. It was what made her say,

“Of course,” he took her hand, “I might only be able to stay standing for one more song though.”

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal,” he said leading her to the bustling dance floor, “You give me a dance and I’ll show you my favourite view in this palace.”

“Deal.” She said, damn those eyes that looked at her like she was the only one he could see.

When they joined the dance floor the music changed from the upbeat tune to a beautiful lilting melody. It wasn’t like other balls she had been to. There were not set dances one had to learn, everyone moved freely on the dance floor, with a partner or solo. She glanced around to see other couples holding onto each other swaying along with the music. Tarquin spun her so she faced him and bowed to her before taking her in his arms. She beamed at that bow, he’d done it purely out of politeness than what was expected, and she knew she had shocked him just as much when she slid her arms around his neck.

Her fingers were brushing against the hair at the back of his head, she marvelled at the beauty of his face. This close up she saw just how smooth his skin was, she wanted to run her fingers over his cheek, in his hair, maybe even further down that glorious set of abdominals that were proudly displayed. His skin had been lightly powdered with some kind of gold dust that had become alive under the light from the Chandelier. He was the most beautiful male she’d met. She already found herself dreading the dance coming to an end.

A small gasp escaped her lips as his broad hands found her waist. The thin Silk fabric she had donned was not thick enough to stop the heat of his hands seeping through. And for a while, the pair just swayed, not quite meeting the others eye. Elain couldn’t speak for the High Lord, but she feared that if she looked into those eyes much more, she wouldn’t be able to stop the urge to kiss him.

“Would you tell me what you’re thinking?” Tarquin whispered into her ear,

“I’m thinking,” she started, “That this is one the most stunning parties I have been to. That daisies are my favourite flowers and I’ve never seen so many.”

“Why Daisies?”

“They grow anywhere and everywhere.” She answered, “When we were children, Nesta and I would sit in the garden and make daisy chains, or I would while she would read. I got told off by a nanny once for making one and placing it on Feyre’s baby head.” Tarquin chuckled in response.

“If that’s the most mischief you got up to as a child, I’m afraid you’ve got some catching up to do.”

“Well what kind of mischief did young Tarquin get up to?” She asked, “Or have you always been calm and Kind?”

“I’m flattered you think that” he smiled. That gorgeous smile. “The Captain of the guard had a son my age and we’d get up to all kinds of mischief. My favourite one was when we created a slip and slide in the palace corridors.”

“That does sound mighty fun.” She laughed

“It was until we broke a few fish tanks and there were all manner of creatures sliding along the corridor with us.”

“Oh no!” Elain gasped,

“Yes, we were not easily forgiven for that particular stunt.”

“And now? Do you find you have much time to get up to these antics now you’re High Lord?” before he could answer the song came to a finish. Perhaps she’d overstepped, she had no right to ask of his personal life, but all her worries were stilled as he said,

“I believe I promised you the best view from the castle.” Elain only nodded and took the High Lord’s hand before Winnowing her away.

——

“Wow.” It was the only word she was capable of saying.

“I told you,” he said. It was stunning, the sun was setting, and they had the perfect view watching it make its descent. But not only that she could feel, in her bones, the vastness of that ocean that laid below them. She could see the city of Adriata where other solstice festivities were gathering. Looked out on the ocean to see a multitude of boats also celebrating. The curve of the small beach and the caves and cliffs that stood high above the waters made Elain realise how Feyre felt the urge to paint. To capture such a beautiful moment would have been impossible though.

She didn’t know how long she had stood there. Just that she thought she could breathe in that sea air forever. She’d barely realised they stood on a balcony that she had no doubt were attached to the High Lord’s personal chamber. She’d almost forgot who she stood with. She looked back at him who was just watching her with unwavering attention. “To answer your question,” he said stepping beside her to lean against the railing, “Being High Lord has kept me busy and I haven’t yet found that work, life balance that comes so naturally to the others.” He confessed,

“I think you’re doing a remarkable job.” She said glancing down at his people who were joyously celebrating,

“Thank you,” he said so sincerely she thought her heart might break, “I do wish I had the time to do what I liked.”

“What’s occupying so much of your time?” She asked,

“Already trying to get Court secrets from me?” he said with an eyebrow raised, she knew he was joking but still -

“Not secrets, per se. Just if you wanted to share the burden, even just by talking, I’d be more than happy to shoulder it.” She’d never meant anything more in her life. She wanted to be there for him, to care for him. Shit, she was in deep already.

Elain looked up at him through those long lashes and he turned to her. She tried to figure out what lay in his eyes, if it was sadness or gratitude. The next thing she knew she was reaching up to his cheek, finally feeling that smoothness beneath her fingertips and brushing away a tear that had fallen from his eye. “My apologies,” he said with a small cough, “I wanted to show you this place because it’s special to me but here I am blubbering away.”

“Never apologise for that, Tarquin. You deserve the happiness of the world. It’s okay to dream.”

“And what do you dream of?”

“For a long time, I thought happiness could only lay in what I could do for others. I believe it will always be my calling to serve and help but I didn’t know who I was. So now I dream that I will never lose sense who I am, and that I’ll be able to help others on their journeys. I know it isn’t much.” She said,

“Elain, I wish I had your sense. It takes a lot to admit you need to find yourself and to do the things you love.”

“And what is it that you love?”

“I love being High Lord, truthfully. I dream of making big changes in my lifetime. I just sometimes wish it didn’t feel so lonely.” He looked into her eyes with that piercing gaze and Elain’s knees could have buckled, but she held strong. Her hands found their way to his face one more, and she didn’t know what had possessed her as she stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his. Everything had gone so quiet; she swore she could hear the stars twinkling.

She pulled back slightly, the weight of what she had just done not quite crashing into her. She was about the open her mouth the apologise but she couldn’t as Tarquin took her in his arms and kissed her. Deeply and Soundly.

She tried to track his movements. She felt his hands around her waist like how they’d been when they’d danced. But they were trailing over her back now, over the embroidered flowers that were trailing along the back of her dress. She’d never been kissed like this before. Like they’d just wanted to devour her, and she did not mind it one bit.

Tarquin let out a small moan into her mouth when Elain had begun threading her fingers through his hair, pulling gently. She wanted that sound again, wanted to elicit every possible noise he could make. So, she did not complain as he’d walked her to the wall and pressed her against it. They were still outside, the sea air still making everything that much more intoxicating. All thoughts left her as he slid his thigh between her legs. She’d been with a Fae male once and it was good but this, this was something else. Another small moan escaped his throat when Elain began to rub that bundle of nerves along his thigh.

It was too much, but she needed more. She broke the kiss and looked at him, his breathing utterly ragged as he looked upon her face. They did not part, she thought that they might not be able to not with so much between them now. “Elain,” he said his voice a little more than a rasp, “I do not know what the future holds but I know you’re the most beautiful female I’ve laid my eyes on. And if I have misread anything please stop me before I completley ruin this.”

“Shh,” Elain said, before holding his face in her hands again and kissed him again. Not as intensely this time but it still felt otherworldly, “I think,” she said onto his lips, “That you are the most gorgeous male I’ve ever met.”

At that he picked her up and carried her through the balcony doors to the adjoining suite. She was right. His personal chambers. “Is this okay?” he asked as he walked towards his bed. It had been okay for a very long time. He could have taken her on that balcony for the entire city to see. To hear. She nodded and said, “Won’t you miss the ball?”

“I have everything I want right here.” He said before dipping his head to kiss her once more. He lowered her to the bed, and she found herself surrounded by gorgeously plush cushions and then the very welcome weight of Tarquin above her. “Tell me to stop.” He said gently,

“Please don’t stop.” she smiled with equal gentleness. And nothing. Nothing in the world could have prepared Elain, as the High Lord of the Summer Court began to make love to her.

[janeyseymour]

Escape- pt 5

pt 1. pt 2. pt 3. pt 4.

Jane Seymour has stayed with Henry long enough. Cue Catherine of Aragon and the rest of the girls to save her.

Jane and Catherine figure out what they're going to do about Henry.

When Catherine woke up for the first time that day, she heard a soft moan. Slowly walking to Jane’s room, she confirmed the sound belonged to Jane.

“You okay love?”

“No,” a small voice answered. “Please come sit with me.” She quickly opened the door and sat by her side.

Wrapping an arm around the blonde, Catherine spoke, “Do you want to talk about it?” Her question was answered with the shake of the head. “Okay. Just relax. I’ve got you.”

She sat with her until she was sure that Jane was asleep. The hispanic laid her back down before walking back to the couch and glancing at the clock: 3:30 AM it read.

“Oh God. You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she sighed, laying back down and promptly letting the darkness take her away.

When Jane woke up, she knew she had to convince Catherine to leave. Shyly, she walked into the living room praying that her friend wasn’t there. Unfortunately for her, John and Catherine were mid-conversation.

“Good morning Daddy,” she made her presence known. “Good morning Lina.”

“Morning my beautiful daughter,” John got up to greet his daughter and get her some coffee while Catherine opted to nod at her with a crooked smile.

“Lina, we need to talk,” she began to nervously play with the skin where her ring used to sit. She had taken it off the night before and left it on the bedside table before promising herself she would never put it back on again.

“Of course.” The two women silently made their way to the back porch.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Jane blurted out, “You need to go.”

Catherine was stunned and could only stammer, “W-What? Why?”

“You need to leave. I don't know where Henry is, and it’s only a matter of time before he comes here. If he knew you were here too, I’m honestly not sure what would happen. I don’t want to know what would happen. It wouldn’t be good.”

“That’s the issue Janey. You don’t know where he is. You need to go to the police so they can find him before he finds you. I don't really want to know what would happen if he found you.”

“You know I can’t do that. I’ve been with him for so long, and, as crappy as it is, I really don’t want him to go to jail. I still love him.”

“The longer he’s out there, the closer he is to killing you, and the more people he’s going to end up hurting in the process of trying to find you. Do you really want that?”

“Of course I don't want that Catherine,” Jane’s voice went stone cold. “Who do you think I am? A monster?”

“No. But right now, you’re being stupid. You’re risking not just your life, but others’ too. You’re putting other innocent people in harm’s way too! What about your parents?” She raised her voice slightly.

“You know I’m just trying to protect you Lina,” Jane got quiet again.

“And you know I’m trying to protect you,” Catherine sighed heavily. Jane sunk.

“Cat,” her voice broke. “This is hard. It’s so fucking hard.” She choked out a sob.

“I know.” The hispanic engulfed the blonde in a hug. “But if you want it to get easier, I really do think you’re going to have to go to the police.

“Fine,” she whispered. “Let’s get this over with.” She untangled herself from the warm arms that held her and dried her river of tears.

As they headed in, not twenty yards away behind a bush, Henry muttered, “Fucking shit.” He had originally come here to try to apologize to the woman he loved and take her back home, but it wasn’t looking like it was going to be that easy. He ran.

“Daddy?” Jane yelled as she wandered back into the house.

“Dad’s in the shower dear,” Margaret called from the kitchen.

“Oh, okay. Uh, Lina and I will be back a little later.”

“Where are you going? Is it safe for you to go out right now?”

“We’re just going to the police station Mom. It’s going to be fine.”

“If you say so. Please be careful.”

Jane wandered back outside to the front porch and waited for Catherine to make the first move.

“I can drive.” Catherine ran to the car and opened the door, helping her in.

The drive was quick, but the wait for the meeting seemed as though it dragged on forever. The two were in the middle of an intense game of solitaire on Jane’s phone when a short lady in a business suit came out of an office.

“Seymour, let’s go. Why are you here today?” the woman said rather flatly.

“I need to file a report... to report Henry Tudor, my ex.”

“Fill out these forms, and then we’ll need to talk to you if that’s okay. If the case holds up, we’ll take care of it from there.”

Hours later, Jane and Catherine left the station after meeting with Officer Beale and a few others who informed them that the case would be held up and followed through with. He had informed them they were to relocate while they searched for Henry.

“Where am I going to go?” It’s not like I can really afford anything right now!”

“Jane-”

“No! I can’t just-”

“Jane,” she tried again.

“No, let me finish!” She raised her voice at her friend now that they were safe in the car again.

“Just listen real quick. My younger cousin has a house a little ways away from here. We, or you, can go there. It’s safe. She lives with a few other girls, but I’m positive there’s enough space for us.You’re more than welcome to stay there as long as you need. I already spoke to her this morning before you woke up. There’s not much around the house, but it’s somewhere relatively safe and quiet.”

“Will you come with me?” She asked shyly, afraid Catherine would say no.

“You know I will if you want me to.”

After a long discussion about where they would be going, the two women were on their way to their retreat.

“Just let me go to the bathroom, and then we can take off?” Jane looked at her friend for permission.

“You don’t need my permission to go to the bathroom.”

“I just-” Jane’s shoulders sank. “Sometimes it annoyed Henry if we were about to leave. Something about ‘Why didn’t you go before? Now we’re going to be late. Come on Jane.’ Most times he said no. I would just have to hold it until we got to our destination.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that now. You’re your own person. You don't need permission to relieve yourself.” Jane sped off towards the bathroom.

“Cath, you listen to me,” John said seriously as soon as he knew his daughter couldn’t hear them. “You better take care of her. You hurt her, I destroy you... like I’m going to destroy that shithead Henry.” His tone got angrier as he continued thinking about the man that had broken his daughter.

“Of course sir. You know how I feel.” She shook the older man’s hand.

“Yes I do,” he whispered lightheartedly.

“What?” Margaret seemingly appeared out of nowhere. “What haven’t you told me?” She smacked her husband’s arm.

“Ow woman! Calm down! I’ll tell you when they leave. I’m just trying to have a moment with one of the few people Jane brings around that I don't utterly hate.”

“You’ll find out soon enough Marge. I’m sure of it.” Catherine winked at Margaret.

“Alright, I’m ready!” Jane’s voice rang throughout the house before she appeared at the bottom of the steps.

“Bye Mom.” She hugged Margaret as tightly as she could without feeling any pain in her ribs.

“Stay safe babe.” Margaret shed a single tear before releasing her daughter.

“Bye Daddy. Love you.” She nearly fell into her father’s arms.

“See you later princess. I love you. Be safe.” He jokingly nudged her into Catherine. “Off you two go! We’ll see you lovebirds soon!”

“Dad!” Jane laughed nervously. She missed Catherine’s face flush red before quickly composing herself.

“I’m just joking around babe.” John winked. “Bye now!” He pushed the two out of the door.

Jane and Catherine walked to the car as Catalina started, “Let’s get this show on the road. We’ve got about 5 hours ahead of us. We’ll be lucky if we get there by nine tonight.” She opened the car door for Jane and began to drive.

A little ways down the road, Henry was screaming, “What the fuck? They’re gonna call the cops?” He had been pacing around for the last three hours, unaware that Jane was already out of town and on her way to hiding. He drunkenly grabbed his phone from his pocket.

“Thomas? I need your help. Call me back,” he sneered into the phone and angrily hung up. “Fucking hell. What am I going to-” his phone rang.

“Asshole, why didn’t you answer like thirty seconds ago?”

“I was helping my mom. What do you need?” Thomas asked his friend, clearly annoyed.

“I need to find Jane. She’s with that bitch Catherine Aragon.”

“Jesus Christ. What did you do to that poor sweet girl?” Thomas Culpepper had always known Henry to be a rowdy drunk and wished he could save Jane and have her to himself. Jane Culpepper had a nice ring to it.

“Nothing you fucker. She just left me.”

“Sure.” Thomas didn’t believe his friend. “Come to my house. I’ll be expecting you in five.”

“I’m by her parents’ house. I’ll come tomorrow. I have things to do.” Henry’s mind was racing.

“Bye,” Thomas hung up. Henry ran to the nearest store to gather the things he would need for this journey he was about to go on.

[generaldisdainn]

A Starlit First Time

Kristanna smut week 2020 day 2: Into the mystic

Word count:  4486

Rating: M (duh)

AO3 link

Anna and Kristoff share their first time in a beautiful, mystical way.

“We’re here!” Anna called triumphantly as Sven pulled their sled to a stop in front of a warm, inviting cabin. 

Anna loved the castle. She adored opening the doors to the people of Arendelle and hosting parties with dancing and chocolate and more dancing. But she was starting to find that this quaint little cabin often felt more like home to her. Anna adored the heart of Arendelle of course, but it was up in the mountains where she felt most like herself. 

She opened the door to their home as Kristoff busied himself with setting Sven up in his stable. She breathed in the scent of wood and nighttime air. Fond memories of this place flooded her mind. 

Kristoff had built the cabin for them some months ago now. It was close enough to Kristoff’s family that they could see them more often and for longer periods of time.

Anna leaned down to the fireplace and struck a match, carefully placing it to the logs. She sighed as the fire that emerged bathed the room in a soft glow. She treasured the time they spent here. It was here where they could be unbothered by foreign dignitaries or the gossiping tongues of the castle staff. They could sleep in until well after dawn without fear of consequence or a judging look. And it was here in the cabin where they felt free to explore each other.

They had been dating for some time now, but being unmarried, it was particularly improper for the two to sleep in the same bed in the castle, so their time spent in the cabin was where brief kisses turned open-mouthed and lustrous and where warm embraces became messes of wandering hands. Anna blushed at the thought. 

She turned to the door as Kristoff pushed it open and trudged inside, promptly closing it behind him to keep out the cool air. 

He looked up at her with a smile that took over his face, a smile that reached his eyes and sent sparks down Anna’s spine. 

“Come ‘ere,” she purred, taking a seat on the couch and patting the spot next to her. 

Kristoff wasted no time in bounding over and plopping down beside his love. He buried his face in her chest, inhaling deeply and smiling. 

Anna ruffled his hair, giggling at the almost cat-like groan that left his mouth as she scratched his head. She was always learning new things about him, how he moved, how he spoke, how he felt, and how he reacted to the ways she touched him. Another shudder passed through her as she dwelled on that last thought. 

“I love you,” he murmured, the sound muffled by Anna’s dress. 

“Mmmm, I love you too.” She planted kisses to his mop of blonde hair. “You need a haircut soon.”

Kristoff grumbled and pushed himself up off of her to properly sit beside her. “Yeah, I do. It’s getting way too long.”

“We’ll get you one when we get back to the castle.” 

Kristoff hummed in contentment as Anna continued to run her hands through his shaggy locks. 

They sat in silence for a spell, happy to just be in each other’s company, away from any responsibilities or distractions.

“I’m hungry,” Anna exclaimed suddenly. 

Kristoff laughed. “Of course you are. I don’t think we have much here though.”

Anna clicked her tongue in thought. “Oh!” She bounded over to the cupboards. “We still have hot chocolate!” she stated, waving a container filled with cocoa triumphantly. 

Kristoff smiled. He loved how boundless and full of energy she was. “Hot chocolate sounds amazing,” he agreed. The two got to work, side by side. 

~

Anna was all curled up on Kristoff’s lap like a kitten, throat warm and stomach full of chocolatey goodness. She had finished hers first of course, so Kristoff had let her steal a few sips of his. Rather, she took them without asking, and Kristoff teased her about it. They were so cozy, so warm. They were home. 

Anna nuzzled into his chest and slowly brought her face up to his. “I’m still hungry,” she said, trying on the most seductive voice she could muster, although she was smiling too hard to get out anything too terribly convincing. 

“Come ‘ere.” It was his turn to beckon. His voice was deep and rumbling like the purl of a river. He took her chin in his calloused fingers and tilted her lips up towards his, stealing her into a passionate kiss. 

They melted into a dance of sorts, one that changed every night, and yet, they were both so in tune, so rehearsed, that it felt like they were dancing the dance for the thousandth time. 

His mouth opened against hers, hot breath spilling over, tongues trailing over teeth and the walls of their mouths. Kristoff caught Anna’s bottom lip in his teeth, a soft moan escaping her lips at the action.

She clawed desperately at his back, clinging to his shirt with her nails as his lips made their way down her neck.

He nipped at her pulse point and soothed the bite with his tongue. 

“Kristoff,” she huffed as his hands found their way to the roots of her hair and tugged just a bit. His lips roamed the expanse of her skin, suckling at her collarbone and leaving nips of affection at her ears. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said between kisses, relishing the small noises that left her mouth as he continued with his ministrations. 

“Kris,” she breathed. “I, I want you.”

“I want you too,” he said, too caught up in her to hear the implication of those words.

She pulled him away from her. “No, Kristoff. I want you.” 

He stared at her blankly, a sparkle of recognition behind his eyes. She could tell he was holding himself back, perhaps afraid to get himself too excited or to make her feel guilty for meaning something other than what was implied. 

“I want you to make love to me.” 

“Tonight?”

Anna giggled. He was like a child sometimes when it came to things like this. “Yes, tonight, stupid,” she teased, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

He took her small hands in his. “I would love to,” he replied earnestly. 

Anna leaned back in to kiss him, but Kristoff pulled back. 

“There’s something I need to talk to you about first though,” he started, fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck. He really did need a haircut. 

It was Anna’s turn to stare at him blankly, awaiting his explanation.

“You know how my family has some, well, weird traditions?”

Anna chuckled and nodded.

“So, uh, there’s one, regarding this particular,” his voice faltered, suddenly afraid to name the prospect at hand. “...engagement that’s rooted in troll culture, and we don’t have to do it like this, obviously, but it’s, I don’t know, I’ve heard it’s really beautiful and special and I would really love to share it with you.”

Anna placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “Kristoff, whatever it is, I want to do it. I promise. I want to share this with you.”

Kristoff grinned. “Okay. But we have to go somewhere for it.”

Anna nodded, nervousness and excitement rolling around inside of her as she followed Kristoff out the door and down a wooded path. 

~

Kristoff pulled Anna into a beautiful clearing. It was awash in the pale glow of the moonlight, mushrooms and gems faintly shining under the night sky. A mossy bed lay in the center of the clearing, perfect for a couple. 

He watched her as she stepped into the clearing, turning around to take in her surroundings. 

“Kristoff this is... This is absolutely gorgeous.” She ran her hand through the swaying branches of a willow tree. She turned to him, eyes alight with the magic of this place, this special place that he had taken her to. “Why are we here?”

Kristoff approached her slowly but surely, looking into her eyes and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His knuckles grazed her cheek. “This is where all the trolls come to consummate their love. This place is blessed and magical, and it’s supposed to grant a new couple who comes here peace and safety.”

Anna laid her head to his chest and inhaled deeply. “That’s beautiful, Kris. I love it. And I would be honored to make love here.” 

They kissed once more, deeply and passionately. Kristoff loved the way she moaned into his mouth as he held her close and moved against her. 

The two pulled apart. Kristoff wasn’t sure where to begin, and Anna seemed a bit lost herself until she whispered to him.

“I’ve never done this before.” Anna ducked her head a bit at the confession. 

She seemed so nervous, eyes darting about, almost afraid to meet his. The answer didn’t surprise him. She had never mentioned any serious lovers, save for Hans, and that jerk could hardly count as serious. He brought a reassuring hand to her cheek. “It’s okay, we’ll figure it out together.”

“Have you ever done it before?” 

Kristoff brought a hand to the back of his neck, suddenly embarrassed. He wasn’t a virgin by any stretch of the imagination, but he wouldn’t necessarily call himself experienced. “Well, yes,” he finally admitted to Anna.

“So then why are you nervous?” she asked. 

He cursed himself. Was he that transparent? Of course he was nervous. He had had his fair share of late-night trysts along the ice harvesting trail, but none of them meant anything to him. He could hardly recall any of the girls’ names. But Anna? Anna was his everything. And he wanted to get this right. He wanted this to be perfect for her.

“I’ve had sex, but I’ve never done it like this.” Kristoff gestured towards the night sky.

“Like, had troll sex?” Anna giggled, a sound that made Kristoff smile. 

He gave her a playful nudge. “I’ve never done it with someone I love, and I’ve never done it in this sacred place, Anna.” 

She stopped giggling at that, his eyes searching hers for anything to hold onto. He wanted this so badly, but he was scared, surprised she had agreed to do this with him in this way at all. 

The world stopped as Anna brought her lips to his. “I love you, Kristoff. So much,” she mumbled against his lips, warm breath sending a chill down his spine.

“And you’re sure about this?” 

“Course I am,” she hummed in response.

That was all the confirmation Kristoff needed. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into him so that their bodies were flush to each other. They were fully clothed and yet Kristoff could feel her warmth seeping into his own, could feel the outline of her, just her, and god, it made him weak in the knees. He took her face in his hand and guided her to him, lips meeting in a familiar pattern, but the anticipation of what was to come adding a new depth to their kiss. 

He held her neck, supporting her, grasping at her hair and desperately pulling her closer as her dainty hands ran along his back. 

Her fingers trailed the hem of his shirt, so light and soft. She was trembling just a bit, perhaps from the cold or from nerves. 

“Here,” he offered, slowly taking his top off to reveal his chest. 

He felt Anna exhale as he did so, eyes looking him up and down and taking in his form before her. 

Kristoff shuddered, her breath sending chills down his spine. He knew she had seen his chest before, of course, but never in this context. Never under the night sky and with the looming promise of seeing much more than just a bare chest. 

“May I?” he asked, motioning to her dress.

Her eyes locked onto his. He couldn’t quite place what they were swimming with, but she nodded her head and he placed a comforting kiss on her forehead. He murmured his love into her skin and ever so slowly removed her dress.

Kristoff’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at his beautiful fiance standing before him. Her skin was pale and soft, freckles shining like constellations in the moonlight. Her hair was fiery, cascading down her shoulders and framing her breasts. And her breasts, god. He could feel his cock start to harden embarrassingly quickly as his eyes gazed upon her speckled breasts. Her small nipples stood alert as cool night air blew across her skin. Her arms were so smooth and so soft, he wanted to feel them wrapped around his frame, wanted to feel her bare skin pressed up against his own. Kristoff had never seen anyone or anything so stunningly beautiful.

He noticed that her arms had slowly moved to wrap tightly around her chest. Her eyes were flickering to anything but his face. 

“Are you sure it’s okay?” she asked, motioning down to her body. 

“Anna,” he cooed, almost shocked that she would even insinuate such a thing, that she was not enough for him. “It’s, you’re, God.” He couldn’t help himself as he brought his lips to her shoulder, not kissing her as he still felt the tension in her stance, but just bringing his nose to her, breathing her in. “You’re so beautiful. So perfect. I’m so lucky.” He wasn’t the best with words, but with her tonight under the sky they came tumbling out of him in a syrupy sweet mess.

“Kristoff.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but he heard it straining against the air and pulled back to look at her. “I don’t know how to do any of this.” The way her voice quivered broke his heart. 

He took her hand in his and pulled her down to the mossy floor, just sitting next to her, far enough away to give her space to breath but close enough so that she knew he was there for her. “Hey, it’s okay. We don't have to do this tonight.” 

She suddenly looked up at him, eyes determined. “I want to. I really really want to. I love you, Kristoff.” She placed a hand to his bare chest. “This just feels so right. And I’m scared, but I want this. More than anything.” 

Kristoff held her hand that was rested on his skin, shivering at the contact and wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms and show her just how much he loved her, show her just how much he cared for her. Not to mention the straining in his pants was getting harder and harder to ignore. “You’re sure?” 

“I’m positive.” Anna leaned in closer, a smile pulling at her lips. “Show me how to make love, Kristoff.” 

He was gone, pulling her into him and relishing the feeling of her chest pressed flush against his own. He laid her down onto the moss below them, holding her carefully to make sure that she was comfortable. He wanted to make her feel the stars. 

Her fingers traced up his strong arms until they captured his hand, pulling him towards her chest. Kristoff inhaled deeply as his hands got closer to where he ached to touch. When he landed on her breast, nothing could prepare him for the soft moan that left or lips or for the gentle buck of her hips against him. 

“Fuck.” The word left his mouth involuntarily as his hands pawed at her chest, his other holding himself up so he could hover above her. An experimental finger flicked at her nipple and she gasped. Encouraged, he leaned his head down and captured her other breast in his mouth, lapping at her greedily and using his fingers to roll her other bud.

“Shit. I never knew this could feel so good,” Anna huffed. 

Kristoff smiled against her breast as he felt her hips buck up again as he tugged on her nipple. 

“I’ve never played with my breasts I didn’t-” Anna interrupted herself with a sharp intake of breath as Kristoff sucked eagerly at one nipple and pulled on the other. 

“Didn’t know what? That you were so sensitive here?” he teased. 

Anna’s moan was enough to answer his question. 

He made note of all of the movements that made her twitch, all of the places that made her moan and squirm. He couldn’t wait to memorize her body, to put her together like a puzzle and learn to pleasure her in combinations that had her moaning and thrashing beneath him. 

“Anna,” he breathed in surprise as he felt hands creep to the waistline of his pants. 

“Can I?” she asked.

Nervousness pricked at his sides. Her feisty hands had felt his cock before during some of their more heated make out sessions, but she had never seen it. She had never seen him entirely naked. Her eyes had never rested on more than an outline of his hard cock. The thought of her staring at him made him quiver. He nodded and laid down next to her. He let her hands snake their way down his chest and experimentally pull at his waistband. Soon his pants were removed, cock bouncing up to hit his stomach. 

Anna’s eyes lit up and she laughed. 

Normally a reaction like that would embarrass Kristoff greatly, but it was Anna, and seeing her laugh at the way his dick sprung up with arousal was just another thing that made him know that she was the one for him. 

Pants thrown off to the side, Anna poked his cock with an experimental finger, gawking at the size and the way it bobbed at her touch. 

“Stop it,” he chided playfully, swatting her hand away from his member which was throbbing at her touch no matter how innocent in nature. 

“It’s so funny,” she giggled, mouth coming to cover her mouth. “It’s big too.” At that, she wrapped a small hand around his shaft and Kristoff groaned. She leaned in closer and brought her thumb to the tip of his cock, taking the little bead of precum and swirling it around the head. 

Kristoff’s head threw back as she worked, a strangled moan escaping his lips.

“What’s this?” she asked, referring to that little bit of wetness at his tip. 

He laughed at his Anna, ever so curious and playful. He was relieved she finally felt comfortable about this whole situation and thrilled to see her so enthralled by his member. 

“And how is that supposed to fit inside of me?” Her face curled up at the question, probably trying to wrap her head around the fact that he was supposed to fit. He was sure he would, but even as modest as Kristoff was he was still aware that his size was well above average. 

“It’s precum. And it will fit.” 

Anna giggled again, and god, Kristoff wanted to make sure she kept making that beautiful sound for the rest of her life. His thoughts were cut short as she leaned down and ran an experimental lick up his shaft. 

Kristoff felt like his brain had stopped working. Her tongue had caught him completely off guard and all his nerves were suddenly firing at once. “Anna, you don’t have to- fuck.” His thighs twitched involuntarily, hands tensing and grasping for something to hold onto as she took the head of his cock in her mouth. 

“I want to. Is this good?” Her mouth sunk down onto his cock. She wasn’t able to get it in all the way, but he could still feel her wetness, her tongue, her lips- it was all almost too much. 

It took all of his focus to get out a strained “yes” as she dragged her tongue up his length, stopping at the head to suck on him. 

“Anna,” he whispered, hands finding a hold in her hair and pulling her up so that they were face to face. “Do you want me to make love to you?”

Anna nodded.

Kristoff flipped her gently so that she was resting on her back again, chest exposed to him. He was naked above her. He brought his hands to her lace panties and pulled them downwards. 

Her hands made an attempt to cover herself up, but Kristoff stopped her, lips resting on her breast. “You’re so beautiful. I love you so much.” And he meant it. He meant it with all that he was. 

Kristoff ran a finger up her folds, shuddering as he felt her warmth and her wetness, all waiting for him. He couldn’t wait to lose himself in her, to lap up those juices and make her whimper and shudder with his tongue, but for now, it was time to take her in the most sacred way he knew.

He hovered above her, brown eyes searching her blue ones for a sign. 

Anna smiled, nodding once more to assure him that she was ready. He wanted this. He wanted this to be perfect for her. 

Kristoff entered her, slowly, gently, back tensing as he felt how warm and wet she was. He was barely inside of her and he was already melting. He stopped suddenly as she tensed beneath him, eyes skewing shut. “Are you okay?”

“It hurts,” she replied, her voice catching in her throat. 

Kristoff planted a comforting kiss on her forehead. “Just get comfortable. Let me know when you want me to go deeper. We’ll take this as slowly as you want. You’re in control.”

Anna nodded. Kristoff wanted this to be perfect for her, and he wanted her to know that she was in control of this situation. 

Suddenly, her eyes opened and her mouth dropped, hanging open in disbelief. 

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Kristoff, look,” she sighed, motioning towards the clearing. 

He gasped. He knew this place was sacred and magical for couples in his culture, but he was not expecting to see how the clearing had transformed. Mushrooms glowed and pulsed, crystals changed colors in steady patterns. The sky above shone with a thousand different colors up above, all dancing against the darkness of the night sky. The trees sparkled around them.

He looked down at his Anna, his love, his beautiful fiance, and he felt his heart surge as he saw her. Her face was alight, bright lights reflecting in her blue eyes and pale skin glowing with the colors of the clearing around them. “I love you so much.” He was overcome with it- this love that consumed him as he felt her. All of her. 

“More, Kristoff. I’m ready.”

He pushed into her slowly, focusing on her face for any signs of discomfort until the hilt of his shaft met her thighs and he was inside of her fully, engulfed in heat and warmth and filled with light. 

The light around them pulsed, glowing and dancing. The way the light made her hair shine- it was breathtaking. 

“More,” she begged. 

Kristoff instantly complied, beginning to thrust at a slow rhythm that brought tiny mewls out of her. Kristoff inhaled her noises, strained his ear to pick up every slight pitch in her breath as he fucked her, filling her completely and rocking against her. 

Soon he felt himself picking up speed as Anna’s moans encouraged him, obscenities spilling from her mouth in a way he had never heard before.

He grunted, cock pulsing within her. He couldn’t get over how close they were to each other, how connected they were as the sky sang above them in a swirl of colors. He could feel her thighs clenching around him, legs silently begging for more. Deeper. Harder. Kristoff complied with her silent plea, moving his hips faster. He brought his thumb to her clit, determined to make her cum before he would allow himself to finish.

She wreathed against his cock and his hand, face contorted with pleasure. His ministrations were bringing her so close. She was teetering on the edge. Kristoff could tell. He rubbed her clit as he fucked her. He pressed himself onto her, lips latching onto her neck and his chest pressing into hers. Her sounds were getting louder and more frequent, a sudden cry tearing through her lips as he buried himself deep inside of her.

“Oh right there, Kristoff. Just like that. Fuck, please,” the words poured out of her, worshiping his every move and begging for more. Kristoff ate it up. He vowed to bring those noises out of her every night for the rest of his life if she let him. He concentrated his efforts on that spot within her that made her yell out his name. He felt her pulse around him. He would’ve come by now if he had let himself, but he would rather die than not see her come undone around him in this moment. He brought his lips up to her ear.

“Anna, I want you to come for me.” He rubbed her clit, pounded into her, and prayed that she would cum soon. He was so tantalizingly close to his own peak. His prayers were answered as, with a broken cry, Anna came around him, walls closing in and thighs pulling him in tighter to her. Her hips rocked against him and he finally let himself cum, quickly pulling himself from her and cumming on her bare stomach. His hand replaced his cock so that she had something to grind against as she came long and hard on him, whispering words that he couldn’t make out. His cock twitched in his hand, warm seed spilling onto her. He was shaking when he was done, still relishing the feeling of her wetness on his cock and on his fingers. 

Kristoff wordlessly pulled his fingers out of her, a gasping breath leaving her as he did so. He grabbed his shirt and helped her wipe his cum off of her stomach, and, when she was clean, he pulled her into his arms on the mossy floor. The lights were still shining above them, the glowing trees and crystals around them fading into a gentle pulse of warm light as they rested there.

“Thank you, Anna,” Kristoff murmured into her neck as he trailed his lips along her freckles, trying to kiss her everywhere he could as he held her.

“What for?”

“For doing this with me. Here and in this way. This really meant a lot to me.”

This time it was Anna who initiated the kiss, pulling Kristoff’s naked body towards hers and pressing into him. “I couldn’t imagine our first time going any other way.”

She buried herself in his chest and Kristoff breathed her in, satisfied and full of warmth and light, content to lay there with her and watch the sky dance for the rest of eternity. 

[deamstellarus]

In Viata Asta (2)

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Uhm…language and hurt/pain?

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2

“-ue! Damnit.”

Everything hurt. That much you were certain. The burning, throbbing pain all over gave you the heads up you weren’t dead. At least you hoped you weren’t dead. Your body felt strained and tight, a distinct pressure in your head. You could feel how your body twisted in a weird position, but trying to move your limbs was futile. As far as you were concerned, they were made of lead and took too much energy to even think about moving. It felt as if your head was underwater. Captain America’s voice cut through it all, followed by… a car horn?

“Blue, open your eyes!”

It took everything in you to obey. You blinked rapidly against the sudden brightness. When your vision cleared, distressed blue eyes met yours. He breathed a sigh of relief when you obeyed.

“Fuck, thank you.”

“That’s a helluva mouth you’ve got, Captain,” you croaked. Your throat hurt.

“Don’t believe everything you see on TV,” he sassed. “We gotta get you out of there. They’ll be after us in a minute.”

You nodded, or tried to. The seatbelt cut into your stiff neck. You were upside down hanging from the seatbelt that probably kept you from flying through the decimated windshield. You looked back at Steve, realized he was outside the car, kneeling at your window. Slowly, you unhooked your seatbelt and slumped to the ceiling of the car, his hands softening your impact. You tried to reach out to take his hands to pull you, but your left arm wasn’t responding as normal and you realized your shoulder must have been knocked out of place in the crash. 

“It’s dislocated. I can’t pull myself.” You took in a sharp breath. It hurt, but you didn’t have time to waste.

“Hold still and brace yourself. I’ll get you out.” 

You locked your arms the most you could before Steve’s strong grip pulled you out of your destroyed Jeep swiftly. The rain was full force now, the trees doing little to shelter you as raindrops pelted your skin. You heard shouting a ways behind you. You groaned and got to your feet with the help of Steve. 

“You have to push it back in,” you yelled to Steve over all the noise. Fuck, this was going to suck. But you were out of options, and realistically you couldn’t do much if you didn’t have full motion in all of your limbs. You slowly pulled your soaking wet hoodie over your head, gingerly guiding it down your injured arm, leaving you in your t-shirt. Which wasn’t the best move considering the weather but it was necessary to give him access.

“Right now?” Steve looked hesitant.

“Yes!” You leaned impatiently on your flipped car. You didn’t have time for second-guessing. “You have done this before right? Just brace your arm on the- FUCK!”

Steve’s execution was swift, taking advantage of your running mouth as a distraction. The breath was knocked out of you. With your arm in place, however painful, you started forward, stumbling on slightly wobbly legs. Steve caught you by your waist.

“Thanks,” you muttered. The rain came down hard, visibility was shit now. You would be surprised with the sudden change in weather from the morning but with the events of the day so far, it seemed fitting. Mother nature's cruel joke.

“I would say anytime but…”

“Yeah yeah.” You weaved between trees, putting distance between you and guns that were thankfully doing more damage to the trees than you. “There’s a river up ahead. We can probably lose them at the bridge that goes over it. Maybe even ambush them? Wish I still had my gun...”

“Sorry! I wasn’t planning on losing it.” His apologetic expression morphed into a smirk. “Just like I wasn’t planning on being attacked in a small town general store.”

“Pfft,” you scoffed. “You probably drag the trouble with you everywhere you go.”

“Now you really do sound like Bucky.”

“I’m going to have to meet Mr. Barnes then. Apparently we have so much in common.” The river was directly in front of you at this point, the wooden bridge a little ways north. The rapids were in full-force now though. It would be a real bummer to fall in, so you made sure to keep a decent distance away from the edge of the ravine, where it was usually pretty slippery with mud.

Steve was not as lucky.

You heard a yelp, then were immediately yanked down with him as he tumbled down the muddy slope. You saw his hand jut out to try and slow your descent but the effort was futile. Soon enough, you hit water and the current dragged you under.

You were knocked around, your feet trying desperately to find purchase on something, anything, to possibly slow down. Your lungs burned at the effort to hold your breath but you were going to have to get some air soon. For your first time back in a body of water since the incident, it could be better. The only thing that kept you mildly sane and slightly out of panic was how Steve was still holding your hand. His strong grip tricked you into feeling marginally safer. Because he was Captain America. You normally prided yourself in knowing what to do in emergency situations, but you were only human. If anyone knew how to get out of a sticky situation, it would be him. Your head broke the surface for a brief moment. You gasped, inhaling water and air simultaneously. Your lungs burned and you started coughing.

“Try to get to an edge!” Steve’s voice was almost swallowed by the roar of the water. “We need to get to shallow water if we even have a chance of getting out!”

You agreed, but you didn’t want to open your mouth for how much water was sure to flood your body if you did. So you squeezed his hand tighter, hoping he would understand its meaning. You felt a tug and then his grip loosened. Too much. You gripped as tight as you could as you fought your way above the rapids. You could barely make out Steve’s face. His eyes were closed, and there was red on the side of his head. Fuck. His head must have hit a rock. 

You moved without thinking. You struggled but eventually got the majority of your body under his, barely able to keep his head above the water, your body struggling under his weight. You wrapped your legs around his torso best that you could, and kept an arm around his chest from behind, lifting a bit under his armpits. His massive form blocked you from seeing anything besides the cloudy sky above you and the water whipping past your face. 

You felt a shift in the current, the water seeming to speed up. Against your will, you were rushed over a series of cascades. The thing nobody really thinks about with rivers is how many sharp rocks are involved. You let go of Steve with one arm to wrap it around the back of your head, trying to protect it, lest you too get knocked out and you both drown to your deaths. Natasha would be pissed. For every bump you went over, your back and arm were scraped and slashed by the daggers under the water. At one point, you almost let Steve go, the continuous sharp pain becoming too much. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. 

One final rough scrape over an edge and your bodies went airborne briefly. 

Then you were in smooth waters. You poked your head above the surface, finding you were in a natural pool of sorts. You unlocked your legs from around Steve’s body. You kicked toward the edge of the water where you could see a natural entrance to the pool. Your foot grazed the rocky bottom and you've never been happier to have touched something even remotely solid. You dug your heels in and dragged Steve to the edge but you realized your problem when the water only came up to your waist and you almost collapsed under his weight. He was over six-foot-three and very much all muscle, and very wet. And you hadn't worked out consistently in… years. Without the water to help float and carry his body, you struggled to pull him to land.

You got out and gripped him under his shoulders, dragging him across rocks, albeit smoother than the ones under the river. It was like pulling a truck across sand. Maybe you were a bit dramatic, but his body was that heavy. Your muscles screamed at you, your injured shoulder felt like it was on fire, until you made it far enough up the bank so his feet were barely touching water, laying him down as gently as you could before dropping in exhaustion beside him. But you couldn't rest yet. You panted as you crawled to hover over Steve's body. Two trembling fingers to his pulse relieved you to know he was alive, but his light breath in your ear confirmed it. 

You gingerly laid next to him on your side. The slight brush of the stones to your back made you wince. As an afterthought, your hand flew to your neck, fingers searching for your necklace. You found the thin chain easily enough, but you didn’t relax until your fingers grazed the oddly shaped pendant. Your thumb smoothed over the center gem a few times. 

As the adrenaline faded, the reality of your situation set in. You gulped the air, your body shivering as it went into shock. Just like all those years before, you were practically paralyzed in fear. So you did what you could at the moment. 

You closed your eyes and waited for it to pass.

__________

It was warm. That was your first thought. It felt like a decade had passed since you were warm or dry, but now you were both. The rain had stopped; the sky was still overcast, but now it was definitely less threatening. A few feet away, Steve poked at his watch, now off his wrist and in his hand. His brows were furrowed, his lips formed a grim line. You rubbed your eyes, the motion catching his attention.

"Hey, glad to see you're awake." His eyes softened as they landed on you. You went to sit up but the action was immediately shot down.

"No hey, you probably shouldn't do that." You tried to anyway. Your back felt on fire from the effort, the pain so bad you were sure you looked like a fish with your mouth gaping open and shut. "Or at least let me help." 

His firm but gentle grip on your shoulders guided you into a sitting position. Your vision spun at the motion and you pressed a hand to your forehead, a hood falling from your head. You realized you had his hoodie on, which probably kept you from freezing out here except…

"Aren't you going to catch a cold like that?" He was down to the borrowed t-shirt and sweatpants. While the rain had stopped, March in Washington state in the mountains wasn't exactly t-shirt weather.

"I run a bit warm. I'll be alright." He smiled, sitting down beside you.

"Stupid super soldier serum." His arm went around your shoulder, pulling you into the warmth of his body. Maybe not so stupid after all. You savored the warmth, curling into him a bit more. He stared at his watch again, looking thoroughly annoyed. And you… you were in pain, but stubbornly ignoring it, before you'd have to inevitably move again.

“Got somewhere to be, Cap?” You broke the silence. He looked at you confused, so you nodded to the device in his hand. “You’ve been glaring at that thing for a while.”

"Stupid watch,” he grumbled. “It’s Stark-tech I was hoping it would either show us our location or at least let me get in contact with someone. But it got messed up on the way down here.” Sure enough, the screen is cracked and dark. “I'm not gonna lie, not quite sure where we are. Nor do I have the desire to come back the way we came."

"Yeah, our best bet is to head downstream from here," you said. A creak forked off to the side of the natural pool; you bet you'd find at least some trail signs to get you back on track to somewhere. You’re sure you’d find a road to a town eventually. Either way would take too long. At the very least, those men weren't following you anymore. A bright side to a rather cold and dim reality.

Abruptly, Steve's arm left your shoulder and he got to his feet, taking the warmth with him. 

"We should get moving. I realize we're just sitting ducks here. Who knows who could be watching us, or what animals we might run into," he said, glancing around. "This seems like a prime drinking spot for wildlife, and I'd rather not be eaten by a bear."

You rolled your eyes. "A bear is not going to eat you. There are hardly any more bears in this area at least; they've become an endangered species. There's a crazy low population that still reside here." It was true, though you had seen a lone bear on the farthest point across the lake behind your cabin just before the winter hit. Not that you were going to mention it to him. “Besides, it's the moose that you need to look out for." 

Steve's eyes were wide when he answered. "Moose eat people?"

"What? No!” you snorted. “But they're huge, and you'll be scared shitless if you come across one unexpectedly.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He held out a hand for you. “Need a hand getting up?”

“Sure, thanks.” You held on as he hauled you to your feet, the power behind is pull stronger than necessary, as the momentum kept your body going and your hands flew up to brace yourself for impact and stumbled into his chest. His very big, broad, warm chest. This close up you could see the flecks of green in his eyes. 

Pretty. He was much too pretty.

You tried to take a step back and almost fell on your ass but the hand to your waist kept you from falling. There was a pain in your ankle you hadn’t noticed when you first woke up. It was going to be a struggle to climb over the rough terrain with a bad ankle. 

“Are you okay?” Steve’s gaze was intense on yours.

“I’m, uh, well my ankle is messed up. I don’t think it’s broken though?” It came out more as a question.

Steve dropped down on a knee getting a closer look at your leg. You leaned on his shoulder for support.

“It’s probably just a sprain, but definitely not something you should be walking on in this area.” You figured as much. “I’ll just carry you down.”

You nodded. “Wait, what?” He turned in front of you, still crouched, but now his back was to you. “You want to give me a piggyback ride? Am I five?”

“Not with that mouth of yours.” He smirked. “This is the best option. If we get going now, we have a better chance of making it to any location with a phone before it starts getting dark.”

You sighed. He was right.

“Are you sure? I won’t be too heavy?”

“Blue.”

“Okay, okay.” You slowly positioned yourself over his back, your arms over his shoulders. As he stood, he gripped your thighs on either side of his waist, keeping you securely attached to him. “Thank you.”

“No problem, doll.”

You were glad he couldn’t see your face or you were sure he’d notice the redness forming on your cheeks from the nickname. 

Steve set off down the rocky side of the river, stepping over stones until he reached more level ground to set a steady pace. You were thankful he suggested carrying you, as much as you hate to admit it out loud. Not only were you exhausted, but even just the slightly jostling of your body from your current hike rubbed your back the wrong way. It was ridiculously sore, and if you thought about it too hard, you were sure your entire body would just be pain. You glanced at your injured hand over Steve’s shoulder, the large gash gory and reminiscent of B-list horror movies now covered by a strip of the material from Steve’s t-shirt. You wondered if it was going to get infected before you could get some help.

“Hey,” Steve gently squeezed your thigh, grabbing your attention. His head turned a bit toward yours. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just wondering if my whole body looks as bad as my hand. Or at least as bad as it feels.”

He grimaced. “I’m sorry you’re in so much pain, Blue.”

“It is what it is. I suppose it’s better than the alternative.”

“True.” He was quiet for a few paces. “I never thanked you for saving me back there.”

“Eh, it was nothing you wouldn’t have done. Besides, I couldn’t very well let you drown back there.”

“But still, I feel bad. I’m sure you could have avoided all the injuries if you hadn’t been stuck with me.” His eyes were downcast.

“Don’t know if you’ve realized this yet, but I don’t consider myself stuck with you. Up until those dipshits at the general store, I was having a lovely time with my new friend.” You poked his cheek. The corner of his mouth lifted into a small smile.

“Same here, Blue.” 

__________

You continued through the forest, keeping an eye on the river to your left. Your body felt stiff, but you had to deal with it until you could find help. You leaned more into Steve’s back, soaking in as much warmth as his body had to offer.

“So, ah...” Steve started, sounding conflicted.

“Hm?”

“What’s your real name? Feels kinda odd to only call you by a nickname when I don’t know your given one.”

“Ah, well… that’s the thing, Cap. I don’t really have one.”

“What do you mean?” His pace slowed.

“I mean, I’m sure I have one, but I don’t remember what it is. I haven’t since I woke up in a warehouse in Russia in 2011. That’s where Nat and Clint found me.” You sighed, closing your eyes. The scene played out in your mind. “I was sixteen or seventeen I think, at least that’s about the age the doctors at S.H.I.E.L.D. came up with. It was February, and so, so cold. I remember waking up to voices, quiet bickering that echoed in the space. When I finally opened my eyes, they were standing above me, wide-eyed. Which is fair, looking at it from their point of view, I would’ve thought I was dead too. 

“Lying on the concrete in an abandoned warehouse, with the bare minimum of clothing and a necklace… I remember my fingers were so cold, they were purple and I couldn’t move anything. When they,” you paused, your voice wavered. You hated thinking about this. “When they asked for my name, I couldn’t remember it. I couldn’t remember anything. Not how I got there, or where I was from. Nothing.” You sniffled, glad you couldn’t see his face.

“Oh, doll.” His thumbs rubbed circles on your thighs. 

“I think Clint felt bad for upsetting me. He gave me a nickname, Blue Moon. Said I could have a new name now, that my memory loss was probably temporary and just from the shock, and would most likely come back once I was warmed up and had calmed down.” You sighed. “It didn’t come back. Obviously, but I’ve accepted it. It’s been seven years and I turned out okay. Even pretended I was a badass with S.H.I.E.L.D. for a few years, so you know, could’ve been worse.” You chuckled,  sounding weak even to your own ears.

“Well, you seem pretty great to me, Blue.” It sounded so sincere coming from his lips, even after only knowing him for a few hours.

“Thanks, Steve.” 

“Hey look at that.” Steve pointed up. “The sun finally decided to show itself.”

Sure enough, soft pale yellow rays were peaked through the leaves of the canopy. The light reflected off the water droplets that clung to the trees and leaves, making the whole forest glisten. 

It was beautiful.

__________

“So jelly beans or gummy worms?” You asked at random. You were bored. As beautiful as nature was, this wasn’t a normal hike where you were mentally prepared to let your mind wander and keep everything peaceful. You needed to keep your mind from thinking too much on your situation.

“What?”

“What’s your preference: jelly beans or gummy worms?” Because even though you knew he was a national icon, the image of the Captain America doing anything besides punching Nazis still seemed a little surreal to you. Even if that meant eating snacks meant for kids.

“Hm, I guess jelly beans?”

“Eh. I guess I can’t hold that against you. You probably ate them as a kid.”

“Oh is that how’s it’s going to be?” He chuckled, the rumbling feel the rumbling in your chest.

“Yup.” You popped the ‘p’, grinning when he glanced back at you. 

“Well in that case, pretzels or popcorn?”

“Popcorn, duh. Pretzels are okay, I guess. But I prefer the giant soft ones to the crunchy snack-sized ones.”

“That’s fair.” He nodded.

“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever done for a mission?”

He thought it over.

“I went undercover with Nat and Barton once as Renaissance reenactors.” It was said so casually you almost missed his answer. 

“Really?!” You’d pay to see pictures of Natasha dressed in medieval clothing. 

“Oh yeah. Barton really made the whole ‘Robin Hood’ thing come to life.” You bet he did. “The clothes weren’t all that uncomfortable, but chainmail is awful.”

“With your broad chest and big arms, not to mention all that blonde hair, I bet you looked like a true knight and had all the maidens falling at your feet.”

“Yeah, well Romanoff got enough blackmail to last for years.” He shook his head, a smirk on his lips. 

“I’d love to see those.” And then a thought occurred to you. “Did Natasha wear a dress?”

“Leather pants and one of those corset vests.” 

“Of course she did.” She probably also carried around a sword and dueled anyone who belittled her. 

“It wasn’t the worst undercover mission I’ve been on.”

“What was?”

“Have you ever been stuck in a single room with Clint after a night of Mexican food and cheap tequila?”

You grimaced, because you had, and you wouldn’t wish that on anyone. __________

Steve was quiet for a long time after that. There was clearly something on his mind but he had yet to say anything. You weren’t going to push him. The sun was directly above you now, warming your back, and with Steve’s heat on your front, a nap was starting to look a good option.

“Why a cabin?” Steve asked suddenly.

“Well, it wasn’t my first choice, but it’s nice out here. Quiet. Peaceful.” Not a lot to keep you looking over your shoulder.

“Haven’t you ever wanted to live in the city?” 

“I did the city life, for a couple years after I left S.H.I.E.L.D. A few months in the U.S., a few in Europe. London was nice, L.A. was too warm. I settled in Bucharest the longest though. I usually never stayed longer than a few months in a new place, but I spent six months there.” 

“What was different about Romania?” He was curious. You couldn’t blame him; you didn’t think you were going to stay there for long either.

“I met a friend.” More like a neighbor that you annoyed into companionship. “I met him at a little farmer’s market. My bag of plums broke, and he helped me with them. Looking back on it now, that was probably so out of his comfort zone. He always kept to himself and didn’t speak too much at first. He was perpetually grumpy.” That was an understatement.

“Yeah, I know someone like that.” He chuckled softly to himself.

“I called him “Sunshine” because of that. I think that was the first time I got more that a grimace out of him.” You missed your grumpy cat, but it’s been so long if you even saw him again, he probably wouldn’t even recognize you.

“Sounds like a decent enough guy. Why’d you leave?”

“One day I went by his apartment and he was gone. Disappeared without saying goodbye.” Not that you were super close, but it still hurt a bit. You laid your head on his shoulder. “After that, I was too paranoid to stay in the city by myself. I felt like someone was always watching me. Too many people, too many faces. So I called Clint and he said he had a place for me with a low population count and a beautiful view. And the rest is history.”

“You’ve been alone all this time?” He sounded shocked.

“Almost two years.” 

“Don’t you ever get lonely?”

Yes. You were notorious for spending too much time in your head and with no one to break up that isolation, it’s taken a toll on you. You longed for some company.

“Yeah, I suppose so. I miss hanging out with Clint and Tasha, but with as busy as your schedules get, it’s hard for them to get downtime to visit me for very long.” You missed cozy movie nights with an endless amount of pizza, and archery lessons even though you knew a bow and arrows weren’t your thing. You would deny it, but even sparring with Natasha was something you found yourself missing, even if she still knocked you on your ass more than half the time.

“Well, it’s settled then. You’re coming back with us officially, once we get out of here.” His tone was so confident, you couldn’t tell him no if you wanted.

“Sounds like a plan, Cap.”

“On one condition.”

“Shoot.”

“You’ve gotta start calling me Steve, doll.”

“Will do… Steve.” 

He stopped abruptly. 

“What’s wrong?” You mumbled, your eyes droopy where you rested your head.

“You weren’t lying…” he whispered. “That thing’s huge!” 

Your head popped up to look over his shoulder. Sure enough maybe two hundred feet in front of you, standing in the middle of a ray of sunlight, was a moose. Majestic as all hell, like he knew he owned the forest, with massive shoulders and wide, bold antlers.

"Should we… do we need to find a different way around?" Nervousness clear in his voice. 

"Nah, just give him a wide berth and go around. They're gentle if you stay clear of them." It wasn't your first encounter with a moose, several have stumbled upon your cabin, but most of the time they don’t want to be bothered. 

“You don’t see something like that in the city.” A childlike wonder graced his face.

“No, I suppose you don’t.”

___________

It felt like it’d been days since you’d seen a road or trail of any kind, when in actuality it had probably only been a few hours. You were starving, but ignoring your discomfort was becoming your new normal. With Steve's metabolism from the serum, you couldn't imagine how much worse off he was, so you couldn't complain. When you finally saw a trail sign directing you back to the nearest town, Steve picked up his pace. 

“Shouldn’t be too long now,” Steve said. You were sure he was tired of carrying you all this time, but he never mentioned it. He was too kind for that.

"Do you think Nat found a way to track us?”

"Did you doubt me, zvezdochka?" Natasha's silky voice may have spooked you, but Steve almost dropped you from how high he jumped. Natasha's gaze scanned your forms, taking stock of your injuries. She smirked. "You look terrible."

"It's good to see you too, Tash." You stuck your tongue out. "Tell me, does he always attract this much attention everywhere he goes?"

"Unfortunately, it isn't an uncommon occurrence." Natasha glanced at her watch, pressing a button before she spoke. "I found them. Heading to the clearing now. ETA twenty minutes. Medical assistance needed." 

Her voice was tight but she kept her cool demeanor in place, a facade of nonchalance. However, her small relieved smile said what she didn't. [Part 3]

__________

In Viata Asta Taglist: @rvgrsbrns​

[lullabieswrappedinlies]

Boston Boys [Part One]

Summary: Dr. Aurelie Juneau treats someone in the emergency room she shouldn’t, and get a visit from her brother a few days later. Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC, John Krasinski x OFC Word Count: 1700 Chapter Warnings: Hospital setting and treatment, mentions of guns, implied crime. A/N: This story contains a character who lost her hearing as she got older. I do work closely and regularly with the D/deaf community (I’m a sign language interpreter), but my own hearing problems do not involve significant hearing loss. It is not my intention to offend anyone, only to bring in a character with a quality I don’t see often in other fics. If you have questions about her, feel free to ask :)

A busy emergency room wasn’t an unusual thing, especially in Boston, but tonight the chaos was weighing down on Aurelie. She pulled the magnet piece of her cochlear implant away from her head in an effort to drown out the sound for a few peaceful seconds. She stretched her neck from side to side, then rested her head in her hands. The near-silence was a welcome reprieve from the things weighing on her mind.

A tap on her shoulder prompted her to replace the magnet against her head and turn to see who was beckoning her. A nurse handed Aurelie a chart.

“The guy in room five is refusing to let anyone examine him or anything until he sees you. Says he’s got a lac, I see blood on his shirt.”

Aurelie frowned. “He seem legit?”

The nurse shrugged. “Seems like any run of the mill guy, middle class, whatever. We called security down, they’re waiting by the room.”

“All right.” She flipped through a few pages of the chart. “I don’t recognize the name, but I’ll check him out.”

She stood from the desk where she had been charting and skimmed over the rest of the chart as she walked. The curtain to room five was pulled closed for privacy, but the sliding doors were still open. Normally such a room would have been reserved for a psych patient or a near-trauma. Aurelie suspected that the nature of this patient’s refusal to speak to anyone but her had something to do with his room placement.

The request for her services was another common occurrence in the emergency room. Though no one, including most of her patients, particularly knew why she did it, Aurelie treated any injury or sickness that came into the ER, and she did so with a discretion that, at times, was outside of the law. Her casual manner about the treatments often went unnoticed by her co-workers, or didn’t bother any of them enough for them to speak up. If you lived in Boston and got tangled up in some mess that got you hurt but you didn’t want the authorities involved, you went to MassGen and asked for Dr. Juneau. That’s just the way it was.

Pulling the curtain to the side, she kept her facial expression neutral, as she would with any patient. She surveyed the man laying on the bed; at least six-two, maybe a buck-eighty in weight. Brown hair, face pale -- from his injury, Aurelie figured. She set the chart on the metal tray and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m Dr. Juneau. You asked for me?”

The man nodded. “I’ve heard that you’ll take care of someone and not put anything sketchy on the books.”

Aurelie licked her lips, pulling her bottom lip between her front teeth. She flipped on all of the lights in the room and surveyed the man again; his face was only vaguely familiar. Regardless, she wasn’t going to put herself on radar by causing a scene. So, she stepped out through the curtain again and told security they could go.

“He’s an old family friend, scared of hospitals. I’ll talk to him about it.”

The two guards who had come down from their bubble shrugged and left. Aurelie asked the nurse to give her a few minutes before she came back into the room. She donned a pair of gloves and disappeared back behind the curtain. After hooking him up to a heart monitor and a blood pressure cuff, she checked his temperature and respirations. With all of vitals noted, she took a seat on the rolling stool and asked where his laceration was located.

The man pulled his shirt up to reveal a cut above his left hip bone, pulling around to his abdomen. Aurelie positioned herself on the side of the bed and took a closer look at the cut.

“How’d you get this?”

“Does it matter?”

“Fair enough.” She rolled to the door and asked the nurse to bring a laceration kit. While she waited, Aurelie got a clean washcloth and doused it with sterilized water. She cleaned the dried blood from the area, then sat and waited in silence. When the nurse came with the lac kit, Aurelie sent the chart with her, and got ready to stitch the man up.

“This is gonna sting, but it’s better than taking the stitches raw,” Aurelie assured, injecting lidocaine to several places in and around the cut. She waited a little longer, then poked him with the needle again. When he didn’t even flinch, she knew she could start the stitches. “Do you need a tetanus shot?”

“Don’t think so.”

Other than that, she went to work in silence, quickly and neatly stitching up the cut, making sure the scar would be straight and minimal. The cut was halfway stitched when he spoke again.

“What’s that above your ear?”

Aurelie pursed her lips, completing two more stitches before answering him. “It’s called a cochlear implant. It helps me hear, to a certain degree.”

“You’re deaf?”

“I wasn’t always. Slowly started to lose my hearing as I got older, sometime in high school, it dropped out completely from the left side. Right side is there, but not nearly a hundred percent. They still don’t know why.” She bit her bottom lip as she struggled to knot the stitch she had just completed on. “My turn?”

He frowned. “What?”

“You asked me two questions. Now I get to ask you two questions, right?”

“I guess.”

Aurelie nodded. “Are you from Boston?”

He laughed. “The accent didn’t give it away?”

She smiled. “You needed to lighten up. It was worth wasting a question. What’s your real name?”

“My real name?”

“I know it’s not Boris Schmidt, even if that’s what’s on your chart.”

The man said nothing, and Aurelie knew better than to push the issue. They fell into silence again while Aurelie finished the stitches and bandaged the area. She left for a few minutes to fill out his dismissal papers, then returned to educate him on the aftercare.

“What are you going to put in my chart?”

Aurelie shrugged. “That you came in with a lac to your lower left flank and quadrant, there was no sign of infection or organ disturbance, that I stitched you up and sent you on your way. Nothing more, nothing less.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

Aurelie snapped her gloves into the trash can and turned back to him. “You’re welcome. Good luck.”

At the curtain, Aurelie thought she caught him say something, but had to turn back around to ask him to repeat.

“John,” he smiled. “My name is John. Krasinski.”

Aurelie’s smile faded. “Krasinski?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, “it’s a weird one, I know.”

Aurelie nodded. “Do me a favor, John. Don’t tell anyone that I treated you.”

With that, she pulled the curtain closed behind her and went back to her desk to chart and catch up with her other patients.

GIF found via Pinterest search.

Three days later, another hospital shift. Fortunately, this night was not nearly as busy as her last shift. When Aurelie’s pager went off and she saw the code 613, she finished the current orders she was working on, then made way for the parking lot just outside of the emergency room lobby.

Her brother, Chris, was leaned against his car, a classic American muscle number, smoking a cigarette.

“You know this is a hospital, they’ll fine you for smoking outside of the designated area, dumbass.”

Chris turned with a chuckle, tossing the cigarette to the ground and put it out with the toe of his boot. “Better? Here. Your ma packed lunch for you.”

“That was nice of her,” Aurelie replied, taking the brown bag from him. “What’d she pack for you?”

“A nine mil and a wish that I wasn’t so much like my father. The usual.” He opened the driver’s side door of the car and reached in for another bag. “This is from him, by the way.”

Aurelie checked that no one was watching them and shoved the bag back at Chris. “I don’t want that shit, and you know it. I didn’t earn it, neither did you, neither did he. I don’t need it.”

“Aur, listen, all right? Hey, don’t make that damn face. Yeah, we’ve been over this a million times, we’re gonna fuckin’ go over it again. You’re his kid, whether you ever wanted to be or not. Maybe he’s not the dad you were born to, but he’s the one you ended up with. He’s just trying to take care of you.”

“He’s not over what happened. He still thinks my deafness is his fault, and if he pays me off long enough, I’ll come back to the family. Can’t you see that?”

Chris pursed his lips. “Why can’t you stop putting me in the middle of this?”

Aurelie groaned and tucked the extra bag into her white coat. “Fine.”

“All right.” He pulled another cigarette from the pack and held it between his lips but didn’t light it. “You been holdin’ up all right?”

“Yeah, of course. I can hold my own. You made sure of that.” She decided to take a chance and mention her patient from the other night. “Hey, you remember that guy who went to the high school, he was a year ahead of you -- John Krasinski?”

“Fuck that guy,” was Chris’s immediate response. “He and his family could jump into the river and not come back up and I’d keep walking.”

“Tell me how you really feel,” Aurelie snorted. “So that thing with your family and his, that’s still a thing?”

Chris nodded, tossing his cigarette lighter up and down in the palm of his hand. “Hell yeah, it’s still a thing. They’ll learn one day that we run shit, though. What made you think of him?”

“I don’t know. Random thought, I guess.”

The expression on her brother’s face told Aurelie he was going to be watching her carefully over the coming weeks. She thanked him for the food and went back into the hospital, careful to put the bag of money into her backpack before anyone else suspected something was amiss.

Tags: @themtbmbgirl​ @keithseabrook27​ @ulovemelightsout​ @rosie2801​

[mattpeplow]

1.

Tempting Tincas

The tiny red tip of the float sat motionless in the gentle sway of the still water, anchored to the bottom with two BB shots. The float may not be the correct colour to grant the best visibility. There may be slightly too little or too much of it showing from your added shot, but you can see it, and that’s all that matters. All you want as you sit there, transfixed with anticipation, is for that pimple of colour to disappear, which it surely will. The yearning and the craving for a take and a squirming fight is like a drug. You could easily describe most fisherman as addicts, or dreamers in need of their next fix. It is an extremely strong addiction made up of potential new records be it British, world or personal, or just the knowledge that you are doing everything right and the hard work and preparation has paid off. The pride in catching a beautiful trout on a fly that you created yourself. Or just the peace a solitude of not having to worry about the daily grind, your only concern when on the bank is whether it’s going to rain or not. I confess I am an addict and there is no amount of cold turkey that can cure me, and to be honest, I don’t want to be cured.

The sun was beating down and my polarised glasses cut through the water to show a few dark shadows lurking below, sifting through my grounbait for more substantial offerings. Today’s location is Mythe, a private club water controlled by The Birmingham Anglers Association (BAA). At around 600 meters long and as wide as the River Severn which runs along its one side it is one of my favourite venues. The hot sun of the warmer months causes a large amount of weed to grow here which means only half of the pegs are fishable at certain times on the year. The riverside bank is a jungle, imagine an untrodden terrain with thick overgrown bushes, steep slopes, ditches and barbed wire making their upmost effort to bar your progress. If you do venture this way though, you will probably end up with a few leaves and twigs in your hair and down your collar and maybe a rip in your favourite fishing t- shirt however you will find some of the most beautiful swims from which you can temp a few bites. A fellow angler and good friend of mine Rich has spent countless hours secateurs in hand carving pathways to the waters edge. Rich is a font of knowledge when it comes to Mythe and he often regales me with tales of his trips 30 years earlier when all the pegs where fishable, he is an in-depth encyclopaedia of every peg on the pool and has a story to tell for practically all of them.

Clear spots can be found in amongst the thick weed and most the pegs have a patch of lilies or a deep hole in which to place your bait. Bream are in abundance here with weights of over 100lb regularly being caught on the method or open-ended feeder. Large bags of fish are also caught on the pole or waggler however, this being my chosen method for the day. Carp are a rarity as they are not targeted very often, but the few photographs I have seen of these old warriors show beautiful dark oak coloured mirrors with apple slice scales and striking bronze commons. Rich also tells me of an orange bellied common which has evaded capture for a long time, he has sent me many videos of fish close to 30lb taking floating dog biscuits from one of his many walks around the pool fish spotting. I have also heard rumours of an elusive Catfish hiding somewhere amongst the gloomy depths but who knows, this pool seems to be a bit of a mystery and I don’t think anyone knows for certain what zoo creatures it could hold. Catching one of these legends is on my bucket list, however today I am here targeting Tench, one of my favourite species.

I have selected a peg with a thick blanket of weed framing a deep weed less hole with lilies at my feet and to my left. The water is crystal clear gradually gaining a green hue the further out you look out towards the centre of the lake. After laying a few balls of gound-bait and a scattering of sweetcorn next to the lilies I lowered my lobworm and tightened my line pulling my float to where red meets black. I am fishing the lift method; my float is held in place by two rubber stops and is set at between 5 and 10 inches over depth with shot on the bottom. I pinch my shots onto a small piece of braid threaded onto my line using a rig ring. This is also held in place with rubber stops. Doing this means there is no weaknesses in your set up, some split shots have sharp edges and squeezed directly onto your line can cut into it and cause breakages under pressure. When the Tench takes my bait and lifts the shot off the lake bed the float will rise up and lay flat, however it is suggested to strike before it reaches that point.

Though still water specimen hunting is predominantly based around bolt rigs and buzzers there is a period generally from mid-May where this more traditional method for catching Tench is particularly effective. The warmer temperatures and longer days cause the Tincas to move in to the margins in search of damsel fly nymphs and other immerging insects and fishing at such close quarters the bolt rig loses its impact and a float fished correctly will produce a lot more fish.

I hadn’t arrived early for today’s session. A few beers the night before in the local pub had cause me to oversleep slightly but I didn’t mind as it was summer with plenty of daylight ahead of me. I had got to the lake at around 9am and had chosen my peg and set up for half past. My first bight came 10 minutes later. It was slow and tentative. The float lifted a centimetre and settled again, half a second later it did the same and started creeping slowly to the left. I strike into a small greedy Perch half the length of my lobworm. Returned, rebaited and repositioned I waited once more.

The sun had decided to hide for a while behind a thick white cloud. Thankfully not the thick black kind as I hadn’t even considered bringing my umbrella, not in mid-June. I always travel quite light when I am not targeting Carp. A decent sized bream was my next piece of the action, around the 4lb mark. A slow short fight then like a wet flannel it floated to the surface and was dragged motionless towards the bank. A few of these in the keepnet wouldn’t be a bad result for the day but sadly it was not the prize I was after. Unlike some anglers I appreciate caching bream. A large shoal of bin lids in your swim can make for a great day, especially in match fishing where large weights can be obtained quickly once you have got them feeding, which doesn’t seem to take long, these fish are eating machines and will make short work of a large bed of bait.

By mid-day the temperature cooled a little; it was still warm but not the blistering heat of the past couple of days. A scattering of clouds and a slight breeze made it very comfortable with intermittent blasts of sunshine and shade. I think if the weather had been the same as earlier in the week the fishing would have been very hard. This was proved a few days later when a session with my dad was cut short due to only two bites between us in 5 hours of fishing in relentless heat, we were rewarded with 2 small Roach and two rather sunburnt faces.

Instead the bites were steady and with five perch in the keepnet and a few more bream I decided to mix it up a little and try a cocktail. A lobworm tail with two grains of corn on a size twelve hook. I sat watching the float twitch, bob, dip and sway for a about twenty minutes, there were a lot of small fish in the swim and I think my large bait was being picked up and dropped every couple of seconds by optimistic roach with mouths too small to take bait fully.

Finally, it lifted, this happened so quickly it was almost flat before I had chance to strike. Strike into weightless, air, weightless, nothing. “Bugger it”. It seems that I drifted into a daydream for a while easy to do when sat in the sunshine. I rebaited my hook and recast to the same spot and tightened up, determined not to lose concentration this time. I didn’t have to wait very long for another take and this time I didn’t miss it, my rod bent double and my 4lb line groaned and creaked painfully and my clutch hissed like and angry cat as the fish pushed itself into the weed in front of me. I managed to bully it back into open water and after a taxing battle I finally saw the olive-green shape and red eye break the surface. A few small final breaks for freedom and she gave in and slid into the web of my landing net. What a flawless specimen. A plump almond shaped body, black fins and a wide paintbrush like tale. Tipping the scales to 4lb 8oz I was pleased with my first Mythe Tench and what a beauty.

The next half an hour or so produced a few more Perch and Bream followed by another characteristic Tinca bite, my float raised out if the water and I lifted into another powerful creature. A lot of head shaking and dives to the weed almost confirmed to me this was another Tench. After a couple of minutes, the shaking stopped and I was left with a solid weight and no movement. The fish had hidden itself deep within the weed bed opposite. Doubtful, I lowered my rod pleading that it will release itself on its own with the line being slack. To my surprise and relief, I saw the line start to move. I tightened up to feel the relentless pulling once more. It seems the fishing gods are on my side today. The fish broke the surface and displayed itself for the first time. It was certainly a Tench but this one was unlike any I have caught previously. It had the typical bright red eyes and dark paddle like fins but its body was as black as coal. Securely in the net I admired its beauty and prepared the fish for its Photo shoot. What a beauty, and a lucky capture I think, that fish could have easily been lost. Returned safely it was time to pack up. I emptied my keepnet of 7 Bream and laid it out on the bank to dry, content with a successful day.

[thedoctor1002]

Idk, I never posted one of my fics here but guess I'll try ~

Also, English is not my first language so feel free to correct me QwQ

Fandom: Psycho-Pass -season 1- (is this still a thing?)

Characters: Kogami Shinya, Sasayama Mitsuru, OC

Prompt (it was in Italian, so I'll translate): write a story using three among these words: cloud, dusk, thunderstorm, storm, hull, bay, shelter, sail, night

Title: Log date: 2110/02/28 (Friday) 22:04

---

The lights of the bay flicker dynamically before your eyes.

They dance hypnotically, of the same cyan colour of your office’s walls, but with a whole different beat. They drink the red and white trails from the traffic, they shatter and multiply in the tears of an inclement rain. I know how much you hate it, you just can’t stand going on recon with an umbrella. On the other hand, I love it.

Rain brings us close together under the waterproof cloth and I manage to observe details that neon lights often hide from me: the precise way you part your hair, the last few drops of the jasmine perfume on your jacket, your long lashes. Shion thinks they’re fake. We always fight over it, can you believe me?

After all, you’ve never been the kind of woman to wear such frills. 

A notification arrives, the acid light of your impalpable PC breaks through the sacred dark from where you pretend you don’t see me. It digs your silhouette and paints you like a ghost on the huge windows of the Public Safety Bureau.

Your jet-black hair lay on your back like varnish pouring over the white silk of your blouse.

“Pulling an all-nighter, Inspector Matou?” I ask casually, exposed. With you, after all, I always am: you’re the only one that can shush my shitty jokes.

But this time you laugh slightly: nothing more than a spike, a trembling breath that shakes your ribs and lips.

“The forecasts say that the storm won’t stop until tomorrow morning,” you tell me, sitting at your desk, “also, I’ve been delaying this paperwork through all week, it's about time I get it done. Might as well do some overtime and get rid of it, don’t you think?”

“You’re such a workaholic.” I label you, realizing how lucky I am being allowed to do it: Ginoza, that prude, would have never let it slide “You should leave some for the rest of the precinct: make 'em earn their wages.”

A tired smile crosses your face as you tap your fingers on the keyboard. It’s so clear you’re trying to avoid my glance.

You used to look for it.

You looked for my eyes at briefings, in that discrete way that eventually shocked everyone. You looked for them among alleys, as soon as you heard a gunshot or the chocked sound of a fight.

And when you found me, it felt like a 7 miles free fall.

“How are the legs going?” I dare to ask. I see the hollow structure of your new shins below the hem of your pencil skirt. They swing a bit underneath the glass of your desk. You didn’t lose your damn tic, your right heel shakes like the needle of a sewing machine even when you seem calm.

You shrug and drink the bottom of an already empty glass of water.

I shouldn’t have asked. It breaks my heart, to see you like this.

You don’t give me an answer and massage the back of your knee with a sigh. Lately, I feel like you’re avoiding me.

You’re turning back into the one you were before: uncompromising, cold and distant. I wonder if the bunch of ingrates downstairs have been calling you Dobermann again. I wonder if you’re still as relentless.

You worry me: your stress level is getting darker and darker. You don’t want old Kasei to take issues with you, not again.

I can imagine how you must have felt, the night when this mess happened.

You most likely got pissed, if I do know you.

I mean, did they really think I got away on my own? I bet you never doubted me: no one knows an Enforcer better than its Inspector.

“Runaway?! Have you lost your minds?” Sasayama?!”

Those were the first words you said when they rescued you. You spoke them way before cleansing your lungs from the rotten water of the river, way before asking Masaoka if you’d have ever got back to feeling your lower legs. They hurt like hell and you had to pull them around like sandbags.

“They got him” you panted, holding tight on your mentor’s coat “They took him away, I tell you!” The one that kidnapped him wasn’t a latent criminal. The Dominator didn’t activate, not even when they shot me. Please, believe me. Check on the log files, please.”

Crime coefficient: 0.

I know that bug still haunts you.

Cause, after all, it’s can’t be anything else: who on earth is that Makishima to fly under the Sibyl Sistem’s radar? Who can fool a network that knows your crimes before you do? And how is it possible that the silhouette that kneecapped you and threw you into a river could possibly be innocent?

You haven’t lost your mind, Inspector: the Dominator betrayed me, too.

Don’t think I don’t know how pitiful must have been, the next three days.

Makishima isn’t real. Forget it, it was just a delirium. You were in shock.

It was the trauma, dear. It was a breakdown. It was burnout syndrome.

You’d use some holiday, darling. Take a week. Take two. Go somewhere far, no, better: just stay at home. Go to therapy. Keep yourself busy, don’t think about it. Work. Also, don’t work: it wears you out!

They put you back on your feet in less than six hours, but nobody allowed you to join search parties. Heaven forbid your stress level getting any darker. Heaven forbid that yet another good Inspector gets demoted among those damn Enforcers. But, still, in the whole IT section, there wasn’t a single nerd that could get that night's logs. That's one funny thing, ain't it?

Woman, sometimes I wish your damn head wasn't that hard. I wish you didn't follow the Forensics to get a lift, so soon after the deed.

At least, you could have listened to Kogami. Shit, didn't you see how pale he was? You didn't even need the Dominator to read him, his stress level was mindblowing!

You should have believed him when he told you you didn't want to enter that alley. First off, it was already full of other detectives and analysts. I have no idea what kind of business you had to do in there. Second thing second, Kogami has an eye for certain matters. Do you think he didn't notice I’ve always been all over you? Not gonna lie, maybe I told him about you, once or twice.

But no, of course, you had to get in.

The software that taught you how to walk on those carbon stilts made you stand your ground and bark a "For fuck's sake, Shinya, move!" worthy of the Dobermann’s reputation. Even those who hadn't been called out made way.

But your new legs didn't hold you, when you saw what they had made of my corpse.

I'm sorry, Katsumi, I never wanted to upset you like that. 

You know how much I would have rather have a more heroic death. I don't know, like, in the middle of a shooting, saving the day. It would have been much classier, less tacky, less trash. I think I deserved it, that's all.

You stop typing and rub your temples. You shelter what’s left of your lipstick behind your hand. I wish I could kiss it off, instead of watching you consume it in a ruby red halo in the notch between your thumb and your index.

You lift your eyes only for Kogami, who’s passing by your office like a nurse in its night shift.

“So?” he asks in a whisper, putting more care in that question than I could have ever done. More than anybody could have ever done, because he’s the only one that gets you, right now. You two seem like the only ones who lost something.

You shake your head slowly, staring at the monitor and the dangerously high Crime Coefficient on the display.

“It's not working” you wail softly, misty-eyed. I can’t believe it, is it still you?

“They’re gonna kick me out anyway, if it doesn’t lower quickly” you continue, with that realism of yours. I used to call you a jinx for that but, at the end of the day, you always got our backs. “It’s for the best if I just resign. I’m gonna keep what's left of my dignity, at least.” 

The dark profile of my best friend looks through me, as he sits on the armchair next to mine. He would like to say something, a word of encouragement maybe, we all know it in this damn room, but numbers shut our mouths. 

“You could become an Enforcer” he proposes.

Goddammit, Shinya, did we work with the same person? Katsumi as an Enforcer?

And there you go, shaking your head. You hold your face in your hands and let your raven hair hide your visage. 

“Can you imagine me, following orders? I do know how to work, I can do it better than three-quarters of our colleagues and I’ve never had problems remarking it. They’d eat me alive if they had the chance. Dogs celebrate on the corpses of lions.”

“But lions remain lions and dogs stay dogs.” Kogami finishes, stealing my lines. 

I notice the slight trembling of your finger, as you tap your touchpad to send that last confirm.

In a few moments, the system will have your resignation registered. Your profile won’t unlock your Dominator anymore and in a few days time, just enough for you to collect your belongings, you won’t even manage to enter the office.

Who’s gonna explain to old Kasei that there's more of your stuff here than in your apartment?

I’d ask you what do you plan on doing with your life, but tonight’s decision seems definitely brave enough to call it a day.

I look at the tabs you open in your browser, they mirror in the windows behind you.

Air travel.

Argentina, Cuba, States, New Zealand, Germany, Kenya. You go around the world in 80 seconds flat, you multiply your chances and spread them all through the air in front of you, in a complex diagram that doesn’t lead anywhere.

I never wanted to take you away from your home, you don’t deserve this. 

You cover your eyes with a hand and use the other one to pick a random selection from your atlas.

Greece.

“Well, at least it’s on the sea.” you wrap up, condensing in a handful of words the only satisfaction you can find in starting a brand new life.

You two stare at the transparent screenshot of your flight, the countdown on the web page seems way too joyful.

“It’s so exciting, Katsumi Matou! Check-in your luggage. Your journey will begin in: 06 days: 17 hours: 34 minutes: 21 seconds”

20.

19.

18.

Seconds pass by, in complete silence.

“Do you think it would be a burden to him?” you ask Shinya, “Do you think he’d understand?”

Who would have guessed that a cynic one like yourself could believe in the afterlife? I wish I were here to ask you. I wish we could have spoken about life, death, sex, about things long gone and things yet to be.

His hand squeezes yours gently, as he looks at you in the eye, hoping to stop the train to Paranoidland from setting off.

“It’s not your fault” he reassures you as he can: the both of you wouldn’t make the average person’s empathy.

But he’s right, though, it really isn’t: I know you’ve done anything you could. It’s always been like that.

“Maybe I owe him” you draft “Even if they don’t believe in Makishima, maybe one day I could have proved he exists.”

The teal of your Psycho-Pass would suit you wonderfully, if it wasn’t a description of your mental health.

What could you possibly do in these conditions? You’d have ended up in a cubicle, filing loss and theft reports. You would have never made it to the dossiers, surely not to those of such a controversial case. Making you end up in a study room would have been my final bullshit. I’m happy with your choice, really. I would have loved visiting Europe someday.

“Don’t talk nonsense.” Kogami rebukes you, externalizing what I’ve been thinking all along: “I’m going to look out for your man: your team has already given way too much. I’m gonna find him, Matou, cold case or not.”

You nod, but it’s clear you don’t believe him. I can read through you, you’re a terrible liar.

I don’t think you don’t trust him, most likely you’ve done the math and figured that working on an independent case is far too difficult for an Inspector, let alone for an Enforcer.

And there it is, my fall. After an exhausting chase, you finally look into my eyes, even though -according to Shinya- you’re most likely staring at the void.

Despite being used to such races, believe me, I’ve missed you.

“I’m just so sorry.” you finally whisper, giving me a bitter smile. 

Try and stop me, Ginoza, tell me once again how inappropriate it is: I don’t mind anymore. I get up and I don’t hesitate while holding you and leaving a kiss on your hair, shamelessly.

“I’m going to grab some coffee” I announce, walking backwards to the door like a shrimp, just to look at my dearest friends a bit longer. “I’d get you one, but I’m short on coins. Maybe next time.”

“See you, Inspector.”, Kogami greets you, leaving alongside me.

“Be good.” you wave back, as we were all to meet again tomorrow.

Walking through the dark alley, I can hear an excerpt from our last conversation through the opaque glass of your office.

“You’re jerk, Sasayama!”

I can hear you laughing out loud, through the crackly recording. You laughed at my gall, with that warm, strong, sweet voice of yours, mocking me. Admit it: mine, after all, were the only compliments that could make you blush.

It’s incredible how we managed to joke even inside a car that was taking us on a crime scene. To an external eye, we might have looked disrespectful. Truth is I’ve always feared death so much I just had to laugh at the reaper.

“Oh, come on, what would it take? Come with me to the Precinct’s New Year’s dinner, the 17th is around the corner!” I kept annoying you, as you were too busy driving to mind my dumb flirt attempts. I still can’t get how we never had an accident. “Be good, Katsumi, give me a joy to live for!”

“You could always ask Shion, you know? You always give her more attention, after all.”

I hear the subtle sound of the wheels stopping, the parking brake cracking and it’s like Ogishima’s outskirts appear before my eyes, in that same January night. That place gave me goosebumps, but I would have hated if you understood it.

“Here we are” you announced, with still a bit of resentment in your voice. You unlocked the passenger’s door and I remember I left your Dominator in the car’s trunk: I didn’t want you to follow me. Not that time.

“You scare me when you pay so much attention” you commented, noticing how serious I got “will you tell me why are you insisting so much to keep on searching? Kogami got the guy. Tomorrow we go, we arrest him and it's thank you, next.”

My answer has been recorded as a distant and muffled noise, but I still can trace it: “He’s not the one, I tell you. I have another suspect, but I need a more solid base. And you’re staying, Inspector.”

“Staying?! You’ve gone crazy!” you laughed, locking the corporate sedan behind you “If something were to happen to you, or worse if you didn’t come back, Kasei would…”

“I said you’re staying: it’s dangerous.”

“Sasayama, our work is dangerous,” you replied, contemptuous, understanding that clearly among the gear I brought I didn’t count yours and going back to the car to get it “One more risk won’t make a difference: if I have to drop dead, it can either be here, at home or god knows where.”

“Will you join me for the precinct’s dinner, though?”

And here is a sequence that the voice recorder surely can’t have grasped, but that I could remember even in a thousand years. You cast an outraged glance over me from above the trunk’s door, panting through a half-smile. You shook your head, tucking your hair behind your ear. And finally, after refusing my invitations since 17th November, during lunch break, you smiled shrugging.

“Deal, come on, just make way” you sighed, as your heels echoed on the wet concrete “Still, you’re a jerk.”

“I recorded it: you have no excu-”

The audio file interrupts.

End of recording.

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Ritual

(Story Post)

Dante breathed out shakily. The stone table felt like the coldest surface he ever laid upon. Dressed only in the robes Sydryn had provided, he shivered silently, arms and legs out like the Vitruvian Man. Dusty lay beside him. He was terribly uncomfortable with one wing tucked underneath him and the other draped out over the edge of the table. He wanted to at least lie on his stomach, but he’d been assured that the ritual wouldn’t have him on his back for too long. The sun was directly above them and was blinding through the stained glass skylight. It created a clear beam of light straight down in the dusty back room. Ruben gave Dante a kiss before going to sit near the altar. He was a bit faint from giving blood but he planned to stay awake for the whole process. In his head he was planning what he’d do if something went wrong and he had to save his boyfriend. There appeared to be only one exit, as he had no idea where the other door Syd had gathered the supplies from led to. For all he knew, it could easily just be a storage closet and of very little use to him. If he had to fight a dragon, he’d chose Azeros knowing the dragon must had been run through at some point and likely had a weakness. If it came between Dusty and Köbi, he figured he could take the angel since they seemed like the kind of person who couldn’t hurt a fly. Dusty would have to be on their side, since Grey was what he cared most about and was currently in Yori’s care. As for getting Dante out of here, he knew from experience he could heft his boyfriend over his back firefighter style. Dante loved it, but wouldn’t admit it…

While Ruben’s mind ran at a thousand miles an hour, Sydryn was just finishing up inserting the IV into Dante’s arm. They left the blood bag clamped shut but ready for when it was necessary. They opened the flow of a saline bag to prepare Dante's veins for the blood. “Ready,” Syd said, nodding to Köbi at the altar. They stayed beside the table ready to administer medical assistance. Köbi nodded and positioned their hands on either side of the book. Azeros stood beside Ruben, watching as the space above the angel's head came to life as a halo of light. “Dante, Darathan,” Köbi said. “Are you ready?” Dusty nodded. “Yes.” “As I'll ever be,” Dante confirmed. Köbi started his incantation. The language was unrecognisable to human ears and yet sounded incredibly familiar to them. It was ancient and dark and made the building tremble. The letters in the codex began to glow following along with the angel's words. His eyes had gone white with light and his skin glowed as his true form struggled to stay inside. Ruben was startled a bit when the runes on the side of the altar became illuminated from top to bottom. The illuminations continued, trailing from the altar all the way to the table and up to where the participants lay. Ruben bit his lip. “Dante, you okay?” “I feel fine,” Dante said. “Tingly.” “Shhh,” Sydryn hushed. Dusty exhaled sharply as he suddenly felt his body lifting. He spread his wings to balance himself but found it unnecessary as he was guided by Köbi’s words. Dante had been lifted as well, shifted directly below the demon. His body shadowed Dusty's with all limbs but wings. He closed his eyes, feeling very uncomfortable losing the safety of the table. After a few seconds, he felt his body get unfathomably cold. It felt, instead of blood, he had a glacial river flowing through him but rejecting him as a vessel. He cried out in pain as the river began a freezing cold boil and left his body. From a spectator's perspective, little grey drops of liquid started bubbling up and out from Dante's skin and floating up to Dusty, the focus of it coming out from his knee where they'd initially made the pact. Ruben watched in horror as his partner's body tensed and started crying out in pain. “Dante!” He got up instinctively to intervene but Azeros grabbed him by the back of his robe, preventing his movement. “Hush, boy,” Azeros whispered. “If you throw off the incantation, it could be fatal to your lover.” He pointed to the glowing circle around the table. “There’s nothing you can do now. If you pass that line, you’re done for.” Dante writhed and screamed, the pain of having parts of his blood ripped from his body taking a toll on him. Sydryn moved in quickly. Apparently the circle didn’t affect them as a dragon. They unclamped the blood bag and set it to 100mL per minute drip. They watched as it travelled down the tube and transfused with the saline solution before entering Dante's arm. Dante's cries got lower but it was hard to tell if it was due to Ruben's blood or him becoming weaker over all. Ruben stood with Azeros, watching closely. Every part of him wanted to grab Dante and run, but they were part way through and he knew he had to let it finish. As the last of the grey matter absorbed into the demon, Dante's body went completely limp and he was lowered back down to the table. The hold on Dusty was relinquished and he righted himself in the air, panting as he looked down at Dante. Azeros let go of Ruben's shirt and the human rushed forward to his partner. Dusty set down beside the table as well, but didn't get in Ruben's way. The man was motionless and pale. Thick vein-like wounds radiated from his knee and up his body. He was barely even breathing, and felt so cold as Ruben grabbed his hand. “Dante, can you here me?” Ruben asked, patting his partner's cheek. “Move a moment…” Sydryn said, coming over and checking Dante's vitals. The dragon sighed and nodded. “He's alright but he's going to be out for a while. Get him onto the medical bed. We'll take him back down to his room.” Ruben lifted Dante up and over to the waiting bed. Sydryn wheeled over the IV and attached it. “When will he wake up?” “I can't be sure,” Sydryn stated. “Days at least.” “Days?” Ruben choked. “Yes, have patience,” Sydryn insisted. “Köbi, come. I'll need your healing hands.” Köbi closed the codex and followed along as Ruben and Sydryn pushed Dante out of the room. Dusty remained behind, looking lost. He felt stuck and strange. His mind told him he should follow them but he couldn't care less in that moment. Azeros approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Demon, you're going to feel this way for a little while, but it'll pass.” “Oh,” Dusty just said. “You'll regain your feelings soon. The ritual unbound you from most of your emotions at the moment, but they’ll be back.” Dusty nodded. “You head to bed, little one,” Azeros said. “You’ll need rest.” “Right, yes…” Dusty started to wander out. Azeros sighed then went to catch up with him. “I'll escort you. We can chat.” “Sure.”