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During her free period, just before lunch, Rika marched toward the teachers lounge with a singular purpose. She needed to see the supervisor for the school’s mathlete debate team: Mr. Suguru Geto.
She found him at his desk, and without waiting for an invitation, she demanded to see her raw test results. The paper was held out to her, and there it was in bold ink: 99/100
In any other context; Rika would take this as a stepping stone in her own success, but right now? Rika just viewed this as an insult.
“I got 99%” Rika started, her voice tight with growing irritation. “Do you know how difficult getting a score like this is? Especially since I’m so busy with other important subjects? Look at the boundary between me and the others. I’m sure they all fall at 85% and below. I deserve first place!”
Mr. Geto sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing the bridge of his nose. He looked at Rika with weary patience.
"Rika, your spot as second place is well-deserved," he reminded her calmly. "because someone did, in fact, beat you."
Rika scoffed, a sharp, disrespectful sound right in her teacher's face. "Who in their right mind could have scored more than me? ninety nine is as good as hundred!"
Mr. Geto raised a dark eyebrow, his expression shifting, his brow furrowed as he pulled out the threshold sheet. "How about the student who actually scored a hundred percent?"
Rika snatched the threshold sheet from his hand, her eyes darting to the very top. Your name sat in bold, the score beside it was visible. A perfect hundred percent.
"She must have cheated!" Rika burst out, her voice rising to a shrill pitch. "How!? Do you know how difficult that exam was? 100% isn't even possible!"
"The entrance exams for the national mathlete team are designed to search for malpractice from every candidate," Geto explained, his voice firming up to prevent a full meltdown in the staff room. "If she had cheated, they would have disqualified her long before the results were posted to the various schools. She scored a 100% all on her own."
He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. "She deserves the top spot, just as she deserves to be the captain of the team that will represent our school in the competition. There is nothing else you or I can do about it, Rika."
Rika stood stunned, the paper trembling slightly in her hand. The reality of being stuck in second place pained her like a physical wound, but it was the name at the top that made her blood boil. She wasn't going to accept this. If she couldn't win on the scoreboard, Rika Orimoto would find another way to make you lose.
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Mrs. Orimoto had done her best to convince her daughter to calm down. Not accomplishing a 100% in the exam wasn’t that big of a deal, she would tell her, her voice smooth and dismissive. But Rika’s anger wouldn't subside. She furrowed her brows at her mother, completely disbelieving of how passive she was being.
Rika was doing all of this for her! She wanted her mother to be as proud of her as her father was. She had craved that top spot more than anything because her mother had always demanded she be the absolute best, and now? suddenly, it wasn’t a big deal?
It was painfully clear that her mother was distracted, her mind completely buried in something else. But Rika couldn't comprehend it. What could possibly be more important than the happiness and success of her own daughter?
After letting the frustration simmer, Rika decided that maybe her mother was right about this one thing: winning the top position on the exam wasn't possibly the only way to make the captain position hers. What if she tried one last time? But this time around, she would take a much different approach…Reluctantly, a much nicer one.
The next morning, Rika found her way to the Class 2-C homeroom. The room was mostly empty, the few students present draped over their desks, desperately trying to catch up on lost sleep. But You there.
You were sitting in your usual seat by the window sill, your head propped lightly against the wall. You sported reading glasses, your eyes scanning a textbook, with white earbuds firmly tucked into your ears.
Rika noticed the empty seat directly in front of your desk. Taking a quiet breath, she walked over and plopped right into it. Sitting and facing you. She forced a smile onto her face; it was knowingly fake, but practiced well enough that any passing student wouldn't think to question it.
At first, it seemed like you didn't even notice her presence. Taking advantage of the silence, Rika began to observe you closely. But as she looked at the reflection in your reading glasses, her eyes caught something strange.
Hidden between the propped up pages of the textbook was a small, concealed mirror. Rika looked down, a cold prickle of unsettlement washing over her. She quickly ignored it and snapped her gaze back up, only to find you looking right at her. Another wave of deep unease hit Rika's stomach.
Clearing her throat, Rika forced her smile to grow wider. "Good morning...Uh—sorry to disturb you..."
You just stared, unblinking. Your gaze heavy and unreadable.
Rika immediately took notice of the earbuds still in the older girl's ears, quickly slipping into her polite, shy junior act. "Oh! I didn't know you were listening to music. How awfully rude of me—"
"I wasn't listening to anything. I just wear earbuds so people don't approach me," You smoothly cut her off. You tilted her head, lips curving into a small smile. "I'm not a morning person."
Rika’s breath caught. Her eyes have no emotion, yet her lips curve like they do, Rika thought, paired with the mirror in her book…was she staring at herself all this time?
A sudden realization freezing her in her seat. In that exact, fleeting moment, it felt like she knew exactly who, or what, you were. She deduced right then and there that the girl sitting in front of her was not normal.
Rika was intimidated, and she did not like it. not one bit.
"So, did you have something to say?" You asked, your voice entirely too pleasant.
Rika choked. The rehearsed speech about the Mathlete team evaporated from her mind, leaving her stammering and scrambling for words. "Um! a-actually! Never mind. sorry for wasting... your time..."
Without waiting for a response, Rika scrambled out of her seat and scurried out of the classroom. She left You sitting by the window, tilted head and lingering smile making you look mildly confused.
Though, in reality, the second-year couldn't care less.
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Author’s note; im done with exams, and ive bed rotted enough, im officially out of my SLUMP and BACK WITH THE UPDATES GUYS PROMISEE ‼️‼️‼️
Y/N watched their dancing with a stern expression. Sokka was attempting the robot with little success. Aang was doing flips with the help of airbending, while Katara moved with the fluidity of water. Toph was just stomping around without any sense of rhythm. What she was seeing was awful, and she let out an annoyed sigh.
“Stop.” She said, getting to her feet. “This is... a complete mess. Where do you think you're going with moves like that?”
Sokka stepped closer. Y/N shifted her hips, then didn't hesitate to punch him in the stomach. He staggered back, clutching his abdomen. She thought for a few seconds.
“Since your dancing skills are practically nonexistent, we'll do something simple—but impressive.”
Y/N stepped into the center, snapped her fingers three times, and Aang started the music. She closed her eyes and spun gracefully before lowering herself to the floor. Then she pushed herself back up into an arabesque, balancing all her weight on one leg while the other stretched elegantly behind her. When she noticed no one was copying her, she dropped the pose and crossed her arms.
“You're supposed to imitate me. Come on.”
“Y/N, I don't think we can do that,” Katara said as she tried to hold the pose, but Aang had to catch her in his arms just in time.
“Fine. Then let's work in pairs.”
“This is my moment.” Sokka gave a dramatic bow and offered her his hand.
“Come on, follow me.” She shot Sokka an unimpressed look before turning. “Just copy exactly what I do and you'll get the hang of it.”
“I'm going to make it a little more elegant.” She looked at Katara. “One, two, three, and four.” She counted out the steps.
After plenty of shouting and demanding corrections, the dance became far more polished and impressive. The girls were already dressed in their simple costumes: black harem pants and an open red vest. Katara and Toph were the first to step out, wearing the same black harem pants as the boys along with a triangular halter-style top tied around the neck. Two hours later, Y/N stepped out, leaving everyone speechless.
Her blonde hair was styled in a half-up high bun, with the rest left loose. Her bangs were softly curled like the rest of her hair, framing her face. The bun was adorned with a golden hair comb set with rubies, along with delicate gold ornaments woven through her hair. Her outfit was magnificent: a red tulle gown with a sweetheart neckline and sheer panels along the lower bodice. The skirt was made of several layers of the same tulle as the bodice, each finished with golden edges that evoked the graceful flow of flames.
“Y/N!” Sokka exclaimed, blushing. “You're a beautiful princess who came here to fall in love with me, and only me!”
“Shut up.” She waved a hand dismissively, ignoring his nonsense.
“Why is she dressed differently from us?”
“Are you blind? Besides, you and Katara are just background dancers, while I'm the lead dancer. Of course I'm the one who stands out.”
“She's right, Twinkle Toes. Y/N is gorgeous, and she's the—” Toph stomped on the ground, making the earth beneath him unstable and sending him face-first into the ground.
Katara let out an indignant huff while Toph stomped again, making Sokka trip a second time. Ignoring them, Y/N began stretching to avoid injuries.
“Why is it always me?”
“You look beautiful, Katara.” He twirled Katara around, encouraging his girlfriend.
“Aang...” She happily wrapped her arms around him. Y/N grimaced at the sight of their affection, but another headache struck her.
She saw a young blonde girl sitting in a meadow, gazing up at the stars beside a tall, dark-haired boy. She turned to look at him just before they were about to kiss, but Y/N cut the memory short.
“I don't care!” she shouted, making her friends turn toward her. “We don't have time for romance. Get back to dancing!”
She began clapping to set the rhythm, but the tempo was so fast that it left her friends struggling to keep up while she shouted even louder for them to repeat the dance steps.
“Wrong!” she yelled angrily. “Forget it, you're not keeping the rhythm. All you have to do is copy me.” Despite their complaints, she didn't stop. If anything, she sped the dance up even more. After all, spinning rapidly without getting dizzy was easy for her.
Perched atop an inactive volcano stood a palace built from obsidian and volcanic stone. At its entrance, two banners proudly displayed the emblem of the Fire Nation. Mai was sitting in the garden on a simple chair; despite all the extravagant luxury surrounding her, she still preferred those modest touches. Azula was strolling through the garden when she spotted Mai.
“Was this your doing?”
“I don't know what you're talking about, Azula.” She absentmindedly manipulated the small flame of a scented candle.
“You're the one who decided to hire a traveling dance troupe. Zuko looks like his head is about to explode because he knows you're planning something.”
“It's just a small gift of love for my husband.” She tried to downplay it. However, Azula laughed and sat down in another chair.
“Oh, how sweet. My cold little Mai is trying to show her love in such a subtle way. Aww...” She laughed loudly before grabbing Mai by the hair and forcing her to look up.
“Tsk...” She clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Let go of me, Azula.” She growled, but a gasp escaped her when she met Azula's gaze. Her eyes were wide, her smile twisted. Mai felt fear.
“You're an idiot, aren't you? You bring in a traveling dance troupe when my brother is cruel and capricious. Nothing would amuse my dear older brother more than entertaining himself with some sweet little dancer while watching you drown in jealousy.”
“Zuko isn't like that,” she growled softly. “Azula... please let go of me.” Her voice came out barely above a whisper as she felt Azula's nails digging into her scalp.
“Don't think living in the palace has made me forget that you were a traitor to the Fire Nation and to my father's rule, alongside that scar-faced fool.”
Azula shoved her away roughly. The flame of the scented candle suddenly turned blue and flared violently, burning Mai's hand. She cried out in pain and jerked her hand back, only to watch Azula walk away with a satisfied smile.
✨ Banner diseñado por @alebrasil0101 para esta historia ☺️.
🙅♀️ Please, if you're going to leave negative comments, don't just use two words. If you don't like it, just ignore it.
𐚁. Summary: Spending few days at your grandfather's farm was supposed to be a peaceful vacation, instead you spend the better half of it with Nanami Kento, the one incharge of the farms.
𐚁. Tags: frenemies to lovers, mild quarreling, second hand embarrassment, smut towards the end of the fic.
𐚁. a/n: this is a part of @sextier's cowboy event for reaching a followers milestone, for which congratulations 🎉✨ wishing you success—may you prosper and may the joys be bountiful.
The house is still the same.
Paint chipping from the walls, family photos hung in crooked frames, smell of soil and baked bread wafting through the living room.
If you closed your eyes, it would be easy to be teleported back to your childhood, laughter ringing in the house as you ran around, devouring sweet bread your grandfather bought especially for you.
"I'll be back in few days." He announced, pacing around in the living room as he tossed a hefty bunch of keys before you, "There is curry and chicken stew in the kitchen, I got you bread as well."
A map joined the growing pile of items on the table, "I've marked the shops in market, don't go out wondering in the fields." He finally settled on the couch beside you, handing over something tucked inside a folded napkin.
You wordlessly took the napkin along with it's contents, lips pursed together as bullets trickled into your lap upon folding the fabric.
"Don't hesitate to shoot if someone stepped into the house." Your grandfather spoke with sincerity, as if it was a norm to take people out at milf inconvenience, "Take my name and they won't even toss you in jail."
"Grandpa," You spoke finally, head tilted against the worn fabric of the couch, "I can stay here without going missing or killing someone."
"You never know." He muttered while standing upright, already sensing the lecture brewing in your head, he moved towards the door, his bag tucked beneath his arm, "Kento will be here tomorrow to tend the farm, you handle the house."
"Will do, Grandpa, take care."
"You too, Biscuit."
And as the door clicked shut, you were finally alone in the house, sweet.
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Upon waking up, you basked in the absolute tranquility of the early morning.
Birds chirping outside the window as a ray of sunlight slipping through the curtains, painting the room in soft, warm glow.
The stillness of the room is disrupted by a dull creaking of metal, rhythmic and faint, almost as if afraid to alert anyone.
You immediately hopped out of bed, bare feet padding against the floor as you peeked through the curtains only to see a silhouette of a man, unlatching the barn door, easily stepping inside.
Without giving your brain a chance to form a coherent thought, you sprint downstairs, slamming the front door open and race towards the fence, the feeling of dirt accumulating between your toes, lingering at the back of your mind.
"Hey! What do you think you are doing?" You yelled, chest heaving as you slowed down before you halted, hands pressed against your knees, as you glared at him, at least tried to, "Think you can just steal our cows?"
You highly doubted you seemed even marginally intimidating to the hulk of the man before you, still you had to stand your ground.
The blonde, barely glanced at you for a moment before he went back to work, opening gates of individual stalls to let the cattles out.
Once all the gates are opened, he turns back to you, eyebrows twitching in... disappointment (?), he looks over his shoulder, before he goes, "Those are aren't cows, they are buffaloes."
He doesn't bother elaborating further, guiding the cattles towards the open grass fields, petting each one that passed by him.
You narrowed your eyes at him glancing behind him to take a better look at the cows, "Still doesn't answer what you are doing at my property." You stepped closer, eyes racking up his figure.
Every thing about him screamed pristine, despite being covered in a light layer of dust from already tending to the cattles.
He was a fairly handsome man, infact unfairly handsome, neatly parted blonde hair, hazel-colored eyes, and prominent cheekbones and of course his bulky build
Another thing that caught your eye was the hat perched on his head, dull beige in colour with a mustard yellow hatband adorned with black polka dotted pattern. Odd man, odd choices.
"Nanami Kento." He sighed, as if merely communicating with you was a waste of his precious time, "Your Grandfather asked me to tend to his farm for few days."
He took his hat off, hanging it on the hook beside the barn door, before reaching for the shovel, "I'd say put on shoes if you want to be useful around here." He glanced down at your bare feet, dirt matting your soles.
You nodded your head, albeit stiffly, scurrying off to the house, door slamming shut behind your back, you'll show him just how useful you can be.
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Staring at the reflection of yourself was an enlightening experience, what you thought would have been a rather cute pair of overalls made you look like a sack of potatoes, they were your grandmother's, it was too long on your frame, leg sleeves pooling around your ankles, boots hidden away completely.
Despite it all, you stepped outside in the searing sun, hairs tied up in a bun, nose scrunched as you scanned the area, possibly for a task, preferably for guidance.
"Do you want to go the town's hospital?" A voice interrupted your thoughts, Nanami stood by the fence, the keys to green house dangling in his hands, upper two buttons of his shirt were undone, his chest peeking through, "still with me, sweetheart?"
Your meet snap back to his, embarassed to be caught oogling him, "What do you mean?" You glanced down at your outfit, before crossing your arms defensively, ignoring the way your sleeves puffed wider.
"With those clothes you've got on," He stepped closer, unlatching the fence, walking over to observe your clothing up close, "It's only matter of time before your stumble over and hurt yourself."
"These are the only ones I got." You pulled the sleeves up to your elbows, looking around the front yard, "and I handle myself well enough, now let's get to work, Kento."
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You couldn't handle yourself.
At some point, you were certain whoever was incharge of writing your life was spinning a wheel to decide your fate, with each option shittier than the last.
You couldn't sow the seeds, technique either too harsh or too soft, guaranteeing only failed crop; you moved on to gathering berries from the green house instead, how bad could that possibly be.
Very bad, tiny ants along the berry plant, bit your skin, leaving behind itchy skin, what hurt more was the utter denial to use big spray on the ants.
Right now, you were just hopping from one task to another.
Realisation had dawned upon you that you highly overestimated your potential to work in a farm, the garlic bulbs you had been trying to plant where abandoned in their little basket, whilst you attempted and failed to dig through the soil.
Abandoning the task that you failed poorly at hand, you ventured towards other workers, to ask for a preferably easier task, when one of the gardeners approached you.
"Think you could hand this to Kento?" He handed you a tiffin box, weighty in your hands, you wondered what could possibly make a lunch box so heavy, "His grandma packed extra for you as well."
You gave him a stiff smile, lugging it all the way to the barn, you called out his name, voice echoing against the metal framework.
Sighing in defeat, you place the tiffin on the wooden table by the storage unit, wandering deeper, following the faint sound of water rushing.
He must be cleaning the shovels, you made your way towards the back end of the barn, passing the back doors towards the open washing area.
He was was indeed cleaning, just not what you expected, before you stood Nanami, completely naked his back facing you, body glistening from the bucket of water he just doused over he head.
Muscles thick and bulky, built on years of farm work and nutritious diet, with how easily he lifted entire bucket full of water to pour over his head, you couldn't even being yourself to doubt his strength.
Bending over he dropped the empty bucket on the ground, running a hand through his drenched hairs, abruptly turning to look over his shoulder as if sensing degeneracy radiating off of you.
You immediately look away, forcing yourself to glare the ground, "I wasn't look—" You stammered, trying to deny your quite evident oogling, "I bought dinn—food, I mean lunch." Shit.
Apart of your brain was hyperventilating over the shameful event, walking in on someone bathing, even if said someone was bathing out in the open, another part of you was replying the memory like a voyeuristic tape.
You turn around, feet working faster than your mind, stepping back into the farmhouse to wait for Nanami.
Time moves fast and before you could even gather your thoughts, Nanami stepped inside, clad in pants that were taut around his thighs, and a shirt that stretched around chest, buttons threatening to pop open, blonde hairs still damp with water.
"Care to explain what you were doing out there?" It comes out more of distraught question than simple query, you nudged the tiffin towards him.
"Bathing." He responded simply, cheeky little smile threatening to spread on his lips, making himself home on the chair beside yours, fingers expertly working open the metal box, "it's a thing you do to clean yourse—"
"Don't be a smartass," you sighed, eyes narrowing as he offered you a section of the tiffin, curry and mash potatoes, "I know what bathing is."
For a moment, neither of you speak, both exhausted from a long day of work even if you didn't get anything done.
"So, you are used to women just feasting on your bare body?" You didn't mean to sound curious, like the information itself was interesting enought to probe further but the sentiment was clearly evident in your tone.
"I wouldn't really call it feasting, Sweetheart," he leaned against the chair, dropping his spoon into the tiffin, "it's common for farmers to bath in the open." He explained, nudging the leftover curry towards you, "Don't usually expect an audience, unless someone stumbles upon you."
You cheeks warmed at the teasing, "I didn't mean to see you like that!" You took a mouthful of mashed potatoes, refusing to talk further.
"Didn't say I don't enjoy an audience," He looked at you mischievously, taking a big gulp of water, "especially when it's a pretty girl in overalls that could fit a whole sack of grain in each leg."
"That was the only one I had!"
The sound of your voice filled the evening air along with the loud rumble of his laughter echoing in the backyard.
"Let me walk you home." Nanami announced, standing up with a sigh, hand stretched out towards you.
"You know, we just have to step around the farm, right?" You teased, taking his hands despite your words, relishing in the warmth that seeped from his palm to your entire hand, "This wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."
Nanami hummed, stepping out into the backyard, hand letting go of yours to slip higher and cradle your elbow, making sure you didn't accidentally slip, "The garlic you mutilated earlier would disagree."
You scrunched your nose at the tease, attempting to pull away from his grasp only to be pulled closer by his side, "I tried, it just wasn't the task for me."
It barely took any time before you stood on the front porch of your house, hands behind your back trying to think of anything to talk about.
"You'll come tom—"
"There is a carn—"
Both of your started simultaneously and stopped simultaneously, starring at each other in expectation, when you realised he wouldn't continue, you spoke again, "I was wondering if you'd be here tomorrow as well."
Nanami nodded his head, blonde hairs fluffy and disheveled, not combed once after his evening shower, "I'll be here everyday." He ducked his head lower, contemplating before continuing, "There is a carnival nearby, I was wondering if you'd like to go."
You slowly bobbed your head, taking in what he said, "Go in general or go with you." You teased, watching as he ran a hand through his hairs, for a moment you think he'd be shy about it, try to beat around the bush, but he's Nanami Kento and he doesn't know what subtle is.
"Go with me." He straightened up, eyes locked on yours, "I'll show you around, get you the best turkey ham and cheese sandwich."
You agree with as much grace as you could spare nearly tripping over the welcome mat as you tried to get inside the house.
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You wore a simple yellow dress, floating just above your knees, perfect for the warm summer breeze.
The carnival was a short drive away from your grandparents house, lights already visible in distance from your window.
Opting for flat sandles for the sake of comfort, you waited for Nanami, not so subtly running over to the mirror to fix your hairs or tinker with the the sleeves of your dress, checking through the window for his truck often.
It didn't take long for him to show up at your door, clad in a deep red shirt and the tightest pair of pants possible, outlining each and every muscle of his thighs, subconsciously you thought about what it would feel like between your own.
You didn't get much time to oogle him, a call of your name and a nudge towards his truck followed by him extending his hand towards you.
"You look beautiful, Sweetheart." He mumbled softly against the shell of your ear, opening the door of the truck for you, taking his hat off to cover your backside as you stepped up in it.
The entire carnival felt like a test of your patience and possibly wits, from all the rides where you held on to Nanami to all the prizes he'd won for you, everything seemed to drive you a little insane.
"Think you could handle this one?" Nanami whispered, breath fanning across your collarbone, hand splayed on your upper back as he stood between you and the crowded line, "it's a big ride."
You turned towards the ferris wheel, cheeks warming up as his words registered in your mind, hoping that he meant the innuendo and you weren't just imagining things.
You nodded your head, standing on your toes to respond to him, "I can handle myself." You pressed your palm against his chest, cheekily pushing him back.
Nanami grinned, eyes sparkling as he stepped aside, helping you onto the platform before getting up himself, handing adequate amount to get into the ride before following you into it.
The cubicle went up slowly, giving you ample amount of time to admire the surprisingly large carnival from the window.
However it was tiny, your knees bumping against Nanami's, sheepishly tucking your knees together while he parted his own wide to accommodate yours between them.
You part from the view outside and turn to look at him, arms crossed over his chest as he looked back at you, eye browed quirked up in curiosity when didn't look away.
"See something you like?" He leaned closer, elbows resting on his knees, face barely inches away from yours.
"What if I do?" You challenged, despite your shaky voice and sweaty palms, a different form of nerve brewing in your belly.
Nanami moved his hands, pressing them onto your knees before sliding them higher, fingers brushing with the hem of your dress, some sneaking underneath, before it could escalate, he tugged it lower, covering whatever was exposed.
"Be patient, Sweetheart."
You really don't think you can.
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Standing by the fence of your house, you waited patiently, hands fiddling with the fabric of your dress as Nanami stepped closer but not close enough.
Taking initiative you leaned closer, lips desperate to be pressed against his, only to meet cold air as he continued to stand further away, not yet coming to meet you in the middle.
Discarding any shame you whined, loud and anguished, nose scrunched, brows furrowed, huffing you pulled away completely, almost stumbling as you clumsy climbed the stairs of the porch.
Nanami chuckled, easily catching up to you, hand pressing against the door as you tried and failed to open it.
"Let go, asshole." You hissed, refusing to turn around and look at him, cheeks red and puffed in embarrassment, there is only so much your poor heart can handle.
"Thought you wanted to kiss me?" He leaned down, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, breath fanning along your jaw, "Gonna leave me hanging now, Darling?"
You groaned, turning around to face him, hands pushing against his chest, "First you embarrass me, make a fool out of me," your finger dug into his chest, his pecs full and plush against the tip of your finger get it together, women!, "then you have the audacity to ask for a kiss."
He lets you berate him, floating in utter bliss you pushed against his chest, despite the profanities leaving your lips he is thankful for the proximity.
"What a time," He spoke breathlessly, stepping a little closer, hand coming to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "Can I not tease my girl?"
You huffed, reaching up to pull him closer by his collar, standing on the toes of your feet to reach his lips, the kiss is anything but soft, it's angry from the way you bite his lower lip, dragging it out between your teeths.
He immediately reciprocated, warm hands cradling the back of your head, moaning into your mouth, letting you take your anger out on him.
Slowly you pulled away, pupils blown wide, lips swollen and bruised, without saying anything you turned around and stepped into the house, leaving the door wide open.
Nanami stepped inside, following you up the stairs, making sure his eyes didn't drift any lower than the sight of your shoulders, no matter how tempted he was to catch a peek under the hem of your dress.
You stood in the middle of your bedroom, listening to the soft click of the door latch and heavy footsteps that followed.
Turning around you slowly tugged at the straps of your dress letting it pool at your feets, leaving your completely bare before him, heart thumping in your rib cage, eyes refusing to meet him.
He sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of you, taking his hat off and placing it at the foot of your bed, fingers curling around the back of your thighs as he nudged you aside, leaning down to lift your dress off the floor, "Want you to wear this, when you ride me later." He casually spoke, folding it and tossing on the chair.
You nodded your head, only concerned about the ache between your legs, fingers itching to rub your swollen pearl.
Nanami stepped closer, hands coming to rest on your waist, eyes racking up and down, one hand raising up to trace a fingertip along your areola, not touching your nipple yet.
"Kento please—" You huffed, backing away till the back of your knees hit the bed, quietly laying back, hands lifted up as you gestured for him to come closer.
Nanami reached for his belt buckle, making a quick work of his clothes so he could fullfill your wishes as soon as possible, shirt and pants tossed aimlessly on your bedroom floor.
He kneeled between your legs, knuckles lightly grazing the skin of your thighs, delighted in the way you shuddered against his touch.
You reached for his hand, fingers wrapping around his wrist as you brought his hand between your legs, whining you shamelessly humped his fingers, clumsily grinding your clit against his thick fingers, coating them with a sheen gloss,
"Slow down, Sweetheart." He hummed, watching as you clutched his hand between your thighs, lost in pleasure uncaring of the world.
Groaning his pulled his hand away, ears filling with your whines of displeasure, "Kento please—," you withered helplessly, legs falling wide open as you begged him for stimulation, "I need you."
He sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of your glistening folds, parting to reveal your sticky entrance, the feeling of your throbbing bud still lingering on the pads of his thumb.
"I know love, I know." He whispered, pressing a kiss against your temple, one hand squeezing the fat of your breast, fingers pinching the pebbled nipple, "let me taste her—alright."
He trailed kisses down your sternum, spreading your legs wider to rest your thighs on his shoulders, cock resting between his belly and the mattress while his peppered kisses along the tender skin of your thighs.
You sucked in a sharp breath, thighs quivering around his head, clit throbbing in need as he pressed a kiss everywhere except where you needed him the moment, he stubble scratching against the plush skin of your thighs.
Nanami parted open your folds with his thumb, blowing warm air against your glossy bud, watching as your walls spasmed.
He leaned closer, pressing open mouth kisses against your lower lips, humming at the tangy taste, the sound reverberating through your spine, drawing low moans from your throat.
Your fingers gripped his hairs, forcing his head deeper between your legs, feeling him groan in utter delight, hands trailing up your body to pinch your nipples, nearly suffocating as you curled around his head, all noises muffled from your highs squishing his ears.
Before you could reach your peak, Nanami pulled away, crawling over to sit leaned against your headboard, before grabbing your arm and pulling you over his body, manhandling you in a way that had you drooling over his strength.
Before you could settle into his lap, he curled his arms around your thighs, hoisting you higher on chest and letting you grind your pussy on the tip of his cock, smushed between his belly and your folds.
You hunched forward, hand pushed between your bodies to reach for his length, tapping him again your folds before aligning him with your entrance and slowly sinking down.
Your legs stretched wide around his thighs, knees barely holding any weight as his arms curled around your waist bounced you in his laps.
You barely had any control over the rhythm or the depth, helplessly jostled in any way he wanted, arms thick and strong, muscles bulging as he shifted your entire weight to one arm, freeing the other to pinch your pebbled nipples.
"Ken—to, please," you heaved, back arching as you pushed your tits into his face, walls being mercilessly ploughed by his plush cock, "sl—slow down."
You pleaded, palms splayed on his chest, head lolling to one side as you felt him batter your insides.
He hummed, arm slowly down, making sure you felt every drag of his cock, relishing in the way your eyes widened, mouth hung open, drool pooling in the corner, "Slowed down for you, Sweetheart."
You felt his hand drag lower, groping the plump curves as he made his way down, thumb finding your throbbing clit just as he adjusted the angle of his thrusts, every swirl on your tender bud timed with an earth shattering thrust of his cock.
You don't even get to warn him, before clear gush of liquid sprayed out, drenching his abdomen and thighs, you shuddered in his embrace, barely even feeling your toes, walls milking his cock as he groaned against your chest, arms holding you tightly against his own.
It takes a while for you to come back down to earth from whatever cloud he fucked you to, eyes blinking slowly as you take in your surroundings, mattress devoid of sheets, sound of water running in the bathroom.
He comes back into the room with a wet towel, stepping closer to where you lay limply on the bed, legs parted wide enough for him you wipe you clean.
"Tell me if anything hurts." Nanami pressed a kiss against your forehead, stepping over to your closet and picking out an old t-shirt, "I would have given you my shirt, but I wore it outside." He helped you put it on, cradling your wrists as he grabbed his own boxers and slid them on, before joining you in bed.
"I thought you were going to give me your underwear." You mumbled sleepily, scooching closer so you could lay your head in the crook of his neck.
Nanami snorted, shifting slightly to wrap an arm around your shoulders.
Dividers by: @angeliicide 💖✨
𐚁. a/n 2.0: this was in drafts for literal months, 10 day before exams was apparently the best time to finish, edit and post it. also, I lowkey think I didn't get the plot right fml. alas I hope you all enjoy this little thing I wrote.
when FIRELORD ZUKO takes a liking to AVATAR AANG'S mysterious new BRIDE.
TORN BETWEEN TWO ROADS ! — aang x reader x zuko
PLOT. republic city is finally at peace, and for once, katara allows herself to hope—maybe now, after everything, she and aang can finally become something real. but when aang returns after eight months, he isn’t alone. he comes back with you at his side, introducing you as his wife. suspicious yet helpless, his friends do their best to welcome you, even as nothing about this sudden marriage makes sense. but while everyone else keeps their distance, one person doesn’t. and perhaps Zuko gets a little too comfortable with the avatar’s new wife.
CHARACTERS. AANG and ZUKO.
CHAPTER WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, blood, mentions of premeditated murder, angst, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.
(please check the story masterlist for the story warnings.)
WC. 4.3k
masterlist : story masterlist
chapter fourteen
art creds :: chamiii07, ilameys on x
a/n: i'm back for aang but this is a zuko chapter for sureee.
The chamber remained steeped in silence long after the minister had spoken the name aloud. No one seemed eager to continue, each councilor occupied by thoughts of what such an accusation might truly mean should it prove correct.
Zuko understood their unease.
The Shinu bloodline had lingered at the edges of Fire Nation history for generations, never quite disappearing, never possessing enough influence to become a genuine threat, yet never fading quietly into obscurity either.
Their resentment had survived centuries, but their claim had not.
Following the reign of Fire Lord Zoryu, the throne had passed permanently into his family's bloodline, while the Shinu clan had publicly renounced any further challenge and sworn fealty to his ancestor.
It should have ended there. History, however, always possessed an unfortunate habit of refusing to remain buried.
Every generation seemed to produce another descendant convinced an injustice had been committed, long before they were even born. Most grumbled from the safety of their estates, content to pass their bitterness down to their children in stories they fiercely whispered over dinner tables.
And even though a handful had attempted something more ambitious, none had ever managed to become anything more than a passing inconvenience.
But now, if the council's suspicions proved true, this would no longer be the work of a disgruntled noble house clinging to forgotten pride.
It would be treason.
"I hear you all. But we are still discussing suspicion rather than fact." Zuko spoke at last, his fingers remaining loosely intertwined before him,
"My father remained my primary suspect only this morning because of the emberroot capsules. But now, all signs point to Shinu. Nonetheless, I would need evidence of it."
Several heads nodded.
The attack had been too coordinated to dismiss as ordinary banditry, and no one possessed greater motive to destabilize Zuko's reign than the man imprisoned beneath his own palace.
"I questioned him myself," Zuko continued, his voice even. "He denied receiving visitors or maintaining contact with anyone beyond those assigned to guard his cell."
One of the councilors frowned.
"And you believed him, My Lord?"
Zuko did not answer immediately.
"I do not trust my father," he admitted.
His eyes drifted briefly across the chamber. "But I cannot be blinded by mistrust or rage when it comes to this."
The distinction settled quietly among those gathered.
"Ozai has lied to me countless times throughout my life." A bitter smile touched his mouth, disappearing almost as quickly as it came.
"I know what that looks like. This time..." Zuko exhaled slowly. "I do not believe he was."
Several ministers exchanged uncertain glances.
Zuko straightened.
"Like I said, what we require now is evidence."
Before anyone could respond, the heavy doors to the throne room opened once more. A palace guard entered, bowing deeply before speaking.
"My lord."
Zuko looked toward him immediately.
"The surviving assailants have regained consciousness. The physicians report the effects of the sleeping incense have finally worn off."
A murmur rippled through the council.
It had taken nearly an entire day.
Zuko's expression hardened almost imperceptibly.
"Good."
The single word carried enough resolve that every councilor understood the meeting had reached its end.
"It seems, we shall have our answers sooner than expected." he said, looking once more around the chamber.
The councilors rose together, bowing respectfully before gathering their documents and quietly excusing themselves from the council room.
Zuko stepped away from the council table, adjusting the sleeves of his robes before making for the great doors. Beside him, Iroh rose without a word, falling into step with his nephew.
The prison lay buried beneath the palace, far below the warmth and light of the royal residence, where the sounds of reconstruction still echoed faintly through its corridors.
The air remained damp and unmoving, the narrow passage illuminated only by wavering torchlight that cast long shadows across the iron bars lining either side of the corridor.
The guards stationed outside the interrogation chamber immediately bowed upon seeing their Fire Lord approach. The captain stepped forward first, producing a heavy ring of keys before fitting one into the iron lock.
"My Lord," he greeted respectfully, pulling the door open. "The physicians have examined them. The effects of the incense have worn off completely."
"I heard," Zuko replied, his attention already fixed upon the chamber beyond.
"Are they willing to speak?"
The captain hesitated only briefly before answering. "It would seem so, My Lord."
Zuko inclined his head in acknowledgment and crossed the threshold, Iroh following a measured step behind him while two members of the Royal Guard remained stationed outside the entrance.
Three prisoners sat chained to the stone floor before them, their wrists secured behind their backs, iron restraints fastening their ankles to thick rings embedded within the ground itself.
Their injuries had been cleaned, the blood no longer obscuring their faces, yet the bruising left behind from their capture had already begun to darken beneath their skin.
None of them appeared particularly afraid. There was an unsettling calm about them, the sort belonging to men who had already accepted whatever awaited them, and by the looks of it, they had predicated this.
Zuko regarded them without speaking as he took a seat on the chair kept for him, allowing the weight of his presence to settle over the chamber before finally breaking the silence himself.
"Captain Renshi," he began, his voice even.
"Fourteen years within the Inner Palace Guard. Promoted after distinguishing yourself during the Eastern Harbour Riots, twice commended for exemplary conduct, and eventually entrusted with command over the residential watch."
His attention shifted toward the man seated beside him.
"Daiken. seven years serving in the Western Provincial Army before transferring into the Royal Palace Guard two years ago."
Finally, he looked toward the youngest among them, whose features appeared almost misplaced within a prison cell.
"Kaito. Assigned to the eastern residential wing scarcely a year ago."
Not one of them acknowledged their names.
"You each served this palace faithfully," Zuko continued, neither offended nor surprised by their silence. "You earned promotions through merit. You earned commendations through discipline. More importantly..."
His voice lowered almost imperceptibly. "...you earned my trust."
A faint smile found the oldest man's lips.
"We did."
Without responding, Zuko withdrew three folded parchments from within his sleeve, unfolding each one with deliberate care before allowing his eyes to pass over their contents one final time.
The official seals impressed into the documents glimmered beneath the torchlight, fresh wax standing in stark contrast to the faded records copied from decades-old archives.
"Unfortunately, none of the men described within these records ever truly existed." he said quietly.
Something shifted, and it came not from the elder two, whose expressions remained composed, but from the youngest. Kaito's shoulders stiffened ever so slightly before stilling again.
"The Grand Chamberlain has spent the better part of today examining provincial archives," he continued, lifting the first document from the stack.
"Household petitions, census registries, birth records and family ledgers reaching back nearly four decades." His fingers rested lightly upon the first page before turning it toward them.
"Captain Renshi. Your household petition records that your surname was changed fifteen years ago."
He laid the parchment aside and lifted another.
"Daiken. Yours was altered eight years ago."
Finally, he unfolded the last.
"And Kaito." His eyes settled upon the youngest once more. "You entered my service under a name that had existed for barely a year."
The chamber fell silent again and this time, Zuko welcomed it.
He watched them carefully, hoping the stillness itself might betray something words would not, any sort of nuance that could speak for itself.
The eldest remained unmoved. Daiken kept his attention fixed upon the floor. Only Kaito struggled, his composure not yet weathered enough to conceal every passing thought.
Satisfied, Zuko folded the records closed and spoke the single word they had spent years burying beneath forged identities.
"Shinu."
No attempt was made to protest the accusation or dispute the evidence laid before them. Instead, Renshi's smile returned, deeper now than before, carrying neither shame nor fear.
"So..." Zuko murmured, setting the parchments aside.
"You spent years standing watch outside my family's chambers while carrying another family's loyalty."
"We always stood loyal to you, My Lord."
The answer came without hesitation, and it was spoken with enough conviction that Zuko found himself studying the old man's face more carefully than before.
"Then why change your names?" he asked. "There are others descended from the Shinu bloodline serving throughout my army and within this palace. None found it necessary to conceal who they were."
This time, it was Daiken who answered, lifting his head for the first time since the interrogation had begun.
"Sharing the same blood does not compel us to share the same ideals, My Lord."
Daiken's words lingered between them, carrying none of the bitterness Zuko had expected. It sounded, strangely enough, like a confession long withheld rather than the justification of a traitor.
Before he could respond, the youngest among them shifted against his restraints, the chains scraping softly across the stone.
"Our clan has always believed we possess a rightful claim to the throne," Kaito said, his voice lacking the practiced restraint of the older two.
He looked scarcely old enough to wear the palace uniform he had hidden beneath, and now that Zuko studied him without the helmet and armor, there remained something unmistakably youthful about him that the prison cell only emphasized.
"But our previous lord...he did not believe reclaiming it required murdering children."
Daiken closed his eyes briefly.
"Kaito."
"No." The boy shook his head. "He should know. You said so yourself."
Daiken sighed, before inclining his head to meet Zuko's eyes, taking over for the younger man as he spoke.
"When Fire Lord Ozai still ruled, many within our clan believed your family had stolen what was once ours."
"I had been sent amongst many in hopes to find leverage and overthrow Ozai." Renshi added.
"But even after the Avatar prevailed and Ozai fell, they still wanted the throne returned, but our lord believed that grievance belonged with Ozai—not with his banished son."
Daiken swallowed before continuing, speaking with the conviction of someone repeating stories passed down since childhood.
"You were only sixteen. You had just reclaimed you birthright, your home, and your honor. You understood what it meant to have something rightfully yours taken away. He believed that, perhaps more than anyone, you would understand us."
Silence settled over the chamber once again.
"It was never his intention to overthrow you by force," Kaito continued more quietly. "He wished to approach you lawfully. There were discussions... of a marriage alliance. His daughter was to be offered to you, uniting both bloodlines so neither claim would need be surrendered."
Zuko's brows drew together.
"A marriage alliance?"
Renshi inclined his head.
"It was the most peaceful solution the Shinu had considered in generations, My Lord."
"And what became of it?"
"The clan lord and his wife died before the proposal could ever reach the palace."
"Poison."
The single word escaped Daiken with unmistakable resentment.
"Their eldest son inherited leadership before he was prepared for it."
"And he did not share his father's views," Zuko concluded.
"That is correct." It was Renshi who answered this time, the weariness in his voice betraying years far heavier than the chains around his wrists.
"He believed compromise to be weakness. Where his father sought reconciliation, the young master desired restitution."
Zuko observed the three men quietly.
"And?"
Renshi hesitated for the first time since the interrogation had begun.
"He had grown resentful for something that happened in the past."
The chamber seemed to grow colder.
Zuko's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
"I had already spent years inside this palace. When Your Majesty ascended the throne, Daiken entered the Royal Guard not long afterward. The new lord believed youth and uncertainty would make your reign brief."
A faint smile touched Iroh's lips.
"He misjudged my nephew."
"He did." Renshi offered something almost resembling respect.
"Each passing year made it more difficult to convince the people you were unfit to rule. You governed fairly. The Avatar stood beside you. General Iroh returned. The support you earned through your own actions became stronger than any claim our bloodline could make."
He looked toward Kaito then, something pained entering his expression.
"And so...my youngest was sent."
Only now did Zuko truly study the boy.
He had assumed him to be eighteen, perhaps nineteen at most.
"You look younger than your records suggested."
"Because they lied, Kaito has seen only fourteen summers." Renshi answered quietly and the admission struck the chamber harder than any confession thus far.
Zuko's eyes flickered back toward the boy.
"Fourteen."
"He was chosen because he had grown tall enough to pass for older," Daiken said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. "Our lord no longer trusted my father completely. He believed Father's loyalty had begun to... shift."
Zuko's attention drifted slowly from Daiken to the youngest prisoner before returning to the old captain.
"...Father."
The single word lingered in the chamber.
Realization settled over his features as he studied them again, this time with eyes no longer searching for traitors, but for resemblance. The lines around Daiken's mouth mirrored Renshi's, while Kaito carried the same sharp jaw despite his youth, and suddenly the similarities that had gone unnoticed became impossible to ignore.
"I see."
He folded the parchments in his hand and slipped them back into his sleeve.
"They are your sons."
Renshi inclined his head without hesitation.
Zuko's thoughts returned to the previous night's battle, replaying the final moments before the three men had supposedly succumbed to the emberroot poison. Something about it had unsettled him then.
Now, standing before them with the truth of their identities laid bare, the memory sharpened.
"When my guards surrounded you..." he began slowly, studying each of their reactions, "...none of you bit into your emberroot capsules."
Daiken's eyes flickered upward.
"You all raised your hands to your mouths." Zuko took a measured step closer.
"You collapsed exactly as every trained assassin is expected to." His voice lowered slightly. "Yet when the physician examined your bodies this morning, he found the capsules barely torn."
His eyes settled upon Renshi.
"You wanted us to believe you had taken them."
The old captain held his gaze for several long moments before giving the smallest nod.
"We did."
"...Why?"
"There were too many eyes upon us."
Renshi shifted against the iron restraints, the chains scraping softly across the stone beneath him before he continued.
"Yesterday's attack revealed something we had not anticipated. We no longer knew who among your guards remained loyal to you...and who remained loyal to the Shinu."
His eyes drifted briefly toward his two sons before returning to Zuko.
"Had we bitten down upon those capsules then and there, whatever truth we carried would have died alongside us."
The chamber fell quiet again.
Even Iroh, who until now had remained content to observe, regarded the old captain with renewed interest.
"You wanted to speak with me," Zuko said, more statement than question.
Renshi nodded.
"Yes, My Lord."
"...Why?"
For the first time since the interrogation had begun, the old man's composure seemed to falter. His shoulders lowered ever so slightly when he finally spoke again.
"...Because we seek asylum."
The words landed with enough force that even the chains seemed to fall silent.
Daiken lowered his head.
Kaito squeezed his eyes shut.
Across the chamber, Iroh looked at the three of them in open surprise, while the Grand Chamberlain instinctively straightened where he stood.
Zuko frowned.
"...Asylum?"
Disbelief crept into his voice before he could suppress it.
"In your own nation?"
"Yes, My Lord."
Renshi bowed his head.
Renshi's shoulders sagged beneath the weight of years that suddenly seemed far heavier than before.
"My eldest son has already lived the life our lord demanded of him." He looked toward Kaito, whose face remained stubbornly lifted despite the fear beginning to show beneath it.
"I will not condemn my youngest to the same fate."
Zuko regarded the family in silence, the request hanging between them with all the weight of treason.
"Then explain everything," he said at last, his voice measured once more. "Leave nothing out, and I shall consider your request."
"You said something happened in the past which made you lord resentful." Zuko remained seated, though there was a quiet sharpness beneath his voice now that had not existed before.
"What happened?"
Renshi drew a slow breath, his weathered features hardening with memories that clearly belonged to another lifetime.
"It was years ago, before Fire Lord Ozai was dethroned. Our former lord was still alive then, and although many within the Shinu bloodline wished to reclaim what they believed belonged to them, he refused to begin a civil war when the Avatar had been declared to have returned."
"The young master thought differently," Daiken continued, speaking where his father left off.
"He and several boys close to his age grew impatient. They believed that if they struck first, the rest of the clan would rally behind them."
Renshi lowered his eyes.
"They chose the wrong target."
"The Princess," Daiken muttered bitterly.
"Azula?" Zuko questioned and they nod in agreement.
"They attempted to ambush her while she travelled through the capital. Seven against one." His expression remained unreadable, though disappointment lingered beneath every word. "According to the young master's companions, the fight barely lasted."
No one in the chamber found that difficult to believe.
"They said she defeated them effortlessly," Kaito continued, unable to hide the resentment in his voice. "When it was over, she didn't imprison them...she laughed."
Renshi looked toward Zuko.
"She asked him how the Shinu still believed themselves worthy of the throne after generations spent accomplishing nothing." A faint sigh escaped him. "The young master answered that our bloodline possessed more right than a family of usurpers ever would."
"And she?"
"She showed him exactly why words alone never win kingdoms."
His restrained hands curled into fists.
"She told him that if he could not defeat a princess his own age, then neither he nor his weak father had any right to dream of standing before Fire Lord Ozai. She said the Shinu had become a family that spoke only of what once belonged to them because they lacked the strength to claim anything themselves."
The chamber fell silent.
"It humiliated him," Daiken admitted quietly. "Far more than the beating itself."
"And when our lord and his wife died," Renshi continued, "the young master inherited more than their title. He inherited that humiliation as well."
"The hatred only grew," Kaito whispered.
Zuko listened without interruption, though a tired breath eventually escaped him despite himself.
Even confined within an asylum, even years removed from power, his sister's shadow seemed determined to linger over every conflict that crossed his path.
"So because my sister humiliated your leader over a decade ago," he said at length, pushing himself slowly to his feet, "he has chosen to wage war against the Fire Nation?"
"No, My Lord—"
"I assure you," Zuko interrupted, unable to keep the frustration from entering his voice
"I have suffered considerably more by her hand than he ever did." He looked down upon the three of them, disappointment replacing irritation almost immediately.
"If bruised pride alone has led him to this, then he has mistaken revenge for justice. Tell him that attacking his Fire Lord remains treason regardless of how righteous he believes himself."
Renshi bowed his head deeply.
"We cannot tell him anything."
The answer was so quiet that it almost disappeared beneath the crackling torches.
"The fact that we still live is reason enough for our execution. We have already failed him once. Speaking with you only ensures we have failed him twice."
He turned slightly toward Kaito, and the old captain resembled nothing more than a father looking upon his youngest child.
"I ask for nothing for myself," he said. "Nor for my eldest son. We knowingly deceived you and willingly accept whatever punishment My Lord deems appropriate."
His voice faltered.
"I ask only for safe passage for my youngest."
Zuko's eyes settled upon Kaito once more.
Now that the truth had been spoken aloud, it became impossible not to notice what had escaped him before. The boy's height had misled him entirely, lending him years he did not possess, yet the youthful softness that remained around his face now seemed painfully obvious.
"You truly are fourteen?"
Renshi nodded.
Fourteen.
Someone had accepted forged records, someone had approved his enlistment.
Someone inside the palace had knowingly placed a child within the Royal Guard.
Zuko felt an uncomfortable knot settle within his chest. Until now, he had believed this conspiracy belonged outside his walls. Now it seemed equally possible that it had begun within them.
"I have already said I shall consider your request," he replied after a long silence, forcing his attention back toward the matter at hand. "Whether I grant it depends entirely upon what you tell me next."
Renshi inclined his head.
"You may ask whatever you wish."
Zuko remained standing.
"Yesterday's attack." His voice had become measured once again. "Did your leader intend to assassinate me? Was the plan to seize the throne by killing the Fire Lord and marching into the palace while confusion reigned?"
"No, My Lord."
"Then what?" Zuko demanded. "The armory was breached. My cannons were turned against my own walls. Fire benders stormed my palace from every direction." His brows drew together. "If not my life, then what exactly was your leader hoping to accomplish?"
Renshi lowered his eyes.
"It was never Your Majesty he wished to kill."
Zuko frowned.
"Our orders were to kill the Avatar's wife."
The words seemed to strip every sound from the room. Zuko stood straighter, turning his head slightly to meet his uncle's eyes.
Iroh understood what he wished, and turned to one of the guards, whispering orders to send more security to guard your chambers.
Turning back, Zuko questions him. "...Why?"
"What better way," Renshi answered quietly, "to strip the Fire Lord of the Avatar's trust than by ensuring his wife died under your protection?"
Zuko's expression hardened.
"He would stoop so low as to murder an innocent woman?" The disbelief in his voice gave way to anger.
"He sounds too shortsighted to devise something so calculated."
Renshi hesitated.
Then, after a long silence, he spoke a single name.
The colour drained from Zuko's face.
His chair scraped violently across the stone as he surged to his feet, the force sending it crashing onto its side behind him. Even the guards stationed near the doorway looked toward one another in alarm, startled by a reaction none of them had ever witnessed from their Fire Lord.
"...What?"
The question escaped him almost involuntarily.
"What did you just say?"
Zuko scarcely remembered crossing the distance from the prison to the residential wing. Palace servants hurried out of his path the moment they caught sight of him, bowing in startled confusion while he passed without acknowledgment, every thought consumed by the conversation he had just left behind.
The corridors seemed unnaturally quiet, and the silence only sharpened the unease creeping beneath his skin until he finally reached the chambers that had been prepared for you after the attack.
He stopped abruptly, the hem of his robes sweeping around his ankles. The two guards who should have been stationed outside your door were nowhere to be seen even after Iroh ordered for them to be here mere minutes ago.
A chill settled heavily within his chest.
His hand rose to the door, knocking firmly against the polished wood as he called your name, waiting for your answer, but nothing came from within.
The silence stretched longer, only making him more uncomfortable, and he knocked again, harder this time, concern slipping into his voice before he could restrain it.
A few agonizing moments passed, hands on the bar ready to barge in, before your timid voice finally reached him through the door.
"...C-come in."
His shoulders loosened with relief, though only slightly. Something in your voice sounded wrong. It was quiet, strained, carrying a tremor that made every instinct within him tighten once more.
The door opened slowly beneath his hand.
The room was dim, and you stood near the open window, the evening breeze stirring the curtains as you stood with your back partially turned toward him, the pale silk robes draped over your shoulders.
They were among the lighter garments he had ordered prepared for you only that morning, and for the briefest instant he found himself absurdly relieved to see you wearing them.
Then you turned.
A streak of crimson ran from your hairline, cutting through the side of your face before disappearing beneath your jaw. Fresh blood continued to trickle from the wound upon your forehead, staining the ivory silk in scattered drops, while your lips trembled so violently you seemed unable to steady your breathing.
Zuko crossed the room almost immediately, alarm replacing every other thought.
"What happened?" he demanded, his voice stripped of every formality. "You're bleeding—"
The curtains beside the window shifted.
It was the smallest movement, barely enough to stir the corner of his vision, yet it halted him mid-step.
Before he could react, a figure emerged from behind the heavy crimson drapes with effortless composure, one arm slipping around your shoulders while the other raised a polished dagger that settled against your throat.
The blade caught the lantern light in a cold silver line, and you froze beneath it, your entire body trembling so violently that the knife quivered against your skin.
Zuko stopped where he stood. Every muscle in his body locked as the woman behind you smiled.
Her golden eyes, bright with cruel amusement, met his across the room.
"Zuzu, I didn't even recognize your voice."
His blood ran cold.
"...Azula."
The name escaped him in scarcely more than a whisper.
His worst fear had found its way home.
chapter sixteen coming soon...
a/n: i had a conversation with my brother yesterday about atla, and he said "aang is prob the weakest avatar" and i genuinely started tweaking.
btw, is there something called writing dysmorphia? i feel like my writing seems to be getting so dry, but it feels crowded at the same time?
i will be answering my inbox soon, as well as the comments on the previous chapter!
[taglist open] (please mention under the latest chapter or the story masterlist)
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The thing is, poverty leaves a ghost in the room. Even when the bank account changes, the hardwiring in your brain doesn’t. It’s a exhausting way to live, always moving through the world on tiptoe, minimizing your own footprint to ensure everyone else has enough room.
No matter how stable things get with Kento, you still look at a fourteen-dollar ceramic mixing bowl at the shop and feel that familiar, cold knot in your stomach. You put it back, aligning it perfectly on the shelf so it looks untouched, telling yourself the old plastic one at home—the one with the hairline crack along the rim—works just fine. If it works, replacing it is an indulgence. You don't need it.
But it’s never just about a mixing bowl. It’s everything.
It’s the way you stand in the drugstore aisle looking at a new shade of lipstick—just something small, something you might like to treat yourself to on a Friday afternoon—and you read the price tag, shake your head, and put it back. You have lip balm at home. You don't need to spend the ten dollars. It’s the way you use a bobby pin to squeeze the absolute last millimeter of product out of your moisturizer tube, scraping the plastic until it’s hollowed out, because buying a replacement before the absolute final drop feels wasteful.
You think back to your childhood, to the heavy, suffocating silence of a kitchen where the pantry only held boxes of generic mac and cheese and a bag of rice. You remember the deep, burning humiliation of watching your mother carefully count out pennies at the grocery register, her face flushed as she told the cashier to put back the branded cereal you’d reached for, replacing it with the stale store brand. You learned early that wanting things only brought guilt. Desires were dangerous; they made the people who loved you feel inadequate, and they made the world feel incredibly small.
You carried that ghost right into adulthood, and right into your early relationship with Kento.
God, those early years had been a different kind of brutal. When Kento first left jujutsu to become a salaryman, he was clocking grueling, eighty-hour weeks at the brokerage firm. He was exhausted, his spirit ground down by the unfeeling machinery of corporate capitalism, all for a paycheck that barely covered his half of the utilities. You both scraped by on the absolute margins. You used to tell him you weren’t hungry when you went out to dinner after his long shifts, claiming you’d eaten a massive, heavy lunch at work, just so he could order a full meal without worrying about the split bill. He’d caught on to that lie by your third month together, noticing how your fingers lightly pressed against your stomach when you thought he was looking away, trying to quiet the rumble with three glasses of tap water.
Whenever you actually did have an extra dollar back then, it never went to you. You’d spend it on a high-quality bento for his lunch, or you’d buy a pack of the specific pens he liked for his desk, while you wore your socks until the heels were worn completely through, hiding the holes inside your shoes.
Things are entirely different now. His career has stabilized, the promotions have come, and the financial anxiety should be gone. But you still downplay your needs, treating your own comfort as entirely optional.
Kento notices. All of it.
Paying attention is an occupational hazard for him. Years of strict, demanding discipline—first in the hyper-vigilant world of jujutsu, then in corporate finance—drilled a specific kind of observation into him. He calculates ratios, notices structural flaws, and reads body language before a person even realizes they’ve reacted.
But with you, it’s just how he loves you. It’s become the bedrock of your marriage.
When you go to get ready in the morning, you’ll find a brand-new bottle of your exact skincare serum already sitting on the bathroom vanity, placed neatly right next to the one you’ve been aggressively flattening and shaking for a week.
When the cuffs of your favorite knit sweater begin to fray, you don't buy a new one; you just roll the sleeves up an extra turn to hide the threads. But a few days later, you’ll open your closet to find a beautiful, incredibly soft cashmere knit hanging precisely in the center. When your winter boots start letting a tiny bit of dampness in through a worn sole on rainy days, you just double up on socks and try to step around the puddles. You come home from work to find an identical, sturdy pair sitting by the door, already sprayed with weather-protectant. He just wraps his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder as you look at them, and murmurs, "The weather report looks heavy for the weekend. These have better traction, love."
And then there are the things you just want—the little fragments of joy you deny yourself. The specialized tea blend you lingered over at the market, the soft blanket you touched in a window display, the fourteen-dollar ceramic bowl.
You cut the tape on a heavy cardboard box left on the dining table, and there it is. The bowl, wrapped securely in thick brown packing paper, folded with the perfect, square corners Kento always insists on.
"The old plastic one was inefficient," Kento’s voice comes from the kitchen doorway. He’s standing there, his suit jacket already put away, his tie loosened just enough to breathe, looking at you with that intense gaze that always makes you feel entirely exposed—but entirely safe. "The cracks harbor bacteria. It was time to discard it."
You let out a small, breathless laugh, your fingers tracing the smooth ceramic rim. He always wraps his care in the guise of logic, but you know the math he’s actually doing.
"Kento, it’s fourteen dollars," you say softly, a familiar wave of mild embarrassment hitting your chest as you look up at your husband. "And the boots, and the makeup last week... you don't have to keep doing this. I can look after myself. I don't want to be a burden on our budget. I'm used to making things last."
He walks over, his footsteps heavy and deliberate on the floorboards, stopping just close enough for his warmth to radiate against your side. He reaches out, his large, warm, heavily calloused hand sliding up the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling gently in your hair to tilt your face up to his. It’s an incredibly intimate, grounding weight that holds you still.
"Love, you're never a burden...and you did the thing with your jaw," he says softly, his low baritone dropping an octave, full of a deep, unshakeable tenderness as he looks down at you through his glasses. "The little clench you do when you look at something you like, right before you check the price and force yourself to walk away. I’ve memorized the expression. You do it in the clothing stores, you do it in the grocery aisles, you do it when you're looking at things that are purely for your own enjoyment."
You look up at him, your throat tightening, the old defenses rising up as your eyes prickle with tears. "It’s just a habit. I don't need much to be happy, Kento. I have you."
"I know," Kento corrects gently, his thumb moving to trace the line of your jaw, smoothing over the tension there. His eyes hold no judgment, no pity—just an immense, immovable devotion that makes your heart ache in the best possible way. "It is a survival mechanism. I know why you do it. I remember the apartment we shared when I worked at the firm, and I know how you grew up. But those days are over. If you like something, and we have the means, you are allowed to have it. You do not have to cross-examine every single piece of comfort you desire. You are my wife. You are allowed to just exist beautifully."
He leans down, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, deep kiss that tastes like safety and years of promises kept. It's the reality of a partner who truly sees you.
"Thank you," you murmur against his lips, leaning your head against his broad shoulder, letting the tension finally drain out of your spine.
Kento shifts, wrapping his arms fully around you, pulling you against his chest where his heartbeat is slow, steady, and entirely safe. He kisses the top of your head, a lingering pressure, holding the perimeter so you don’t have to keep rationing your own existence. "Always."
here are writers I personally despise with valid reasons part 1
@madamechrissy : in every fic of hers the main lead are always fucking and when they're not they're thinking about like are you I genuinely think she's hypersexual. The humor in her fics is corny as fuck and she's obessed with making the readers virgins while the male lead is a man whore (I find this really misogynistic) Now don't get me wrong i don't mind if there's smut in a fix but a fic being FILLED with smut is the problem like when I'm reading her fics I feel like im reading a fic written by a perverted teenage boy bc wdym in one of her fics they were js having a normal moment and reader was dancing and she mentioned her tits bouncing like can you not have a single normal moment? She also describes things such as tits , cunt etc as pretty (this isn't that bad honestly but had to mention it) Yesterday I was js scrolling throught her fics and saw a fic abt a ghost sucking cock I'm sorry she actually has the weirdest kinks known to man kind I don't care if it's fiction she needs to add actual plot to her fics instead of just the characters fucking all the damn time.
a/n: idc if her hoes attack me she's weird as hell
are you being hired to be an assistant or a fuck toy ?
mdni !
Beep! beep! , rang your alarm. It had been 7:40 - you were supposed to make it to your job interview at 7:50 sharp, you groaned and rummaged through your closet looking for literally anything to wear. All you could find was a pale blue blouse with a white mini skirt - which was probably like 4 inches - yes, it might not have been appropriate for an interview, but do you follow rules? - a big fat no. You wandered around your house looking for some type of shoes to wear - and thankfully, you found these white heels with faux white leather flowers attached to the upper strap. While brushing out the knots of your hair with your left hand, you dabbed concealer under your eye with the other. You hurried to your car, smearing lip gloss across your lips. After 10 minutes of driving, you reached your destination, immediately reaching for your phone. You checked the time, it was 8:10 - fuck, you were busted.
There was a long line outside the lawyer's office - you were guessing they also applied to the job as his assistant? - you had quite a rough competition. after about 10 minutes, it was your turn. Immediately straightening your posture, you walked towards his office, your heels clicking against the marble floor.
"Hello!" You chirped, grinning right at him. He didn't even glance at you - no. His eyes were completely glued to the screen, the faint glow of the light coming from his laptop illuminating his dark circles. "I'm here for the job interview as your assistan-" Before you could finish, you were rather rudely cut off by him. "I'm aware take a seat." He murmed, finally looking up at you and closing his laptop.
After 10 minutes of interviewing you, he had realized this job was indeed not suitable for you - but oh, the way you pleaded - made him want to reconsider. Finally, when he heard you say, 'I'll do anything with that faint smirk on your face'- he knew what was up.
He walked towards you, making you stand up. "Bend over the desk f'me" he said, eyeing the slick pooling between your legs. "Unless you don't want this job - you do, dont you?" and you did just what he told you - because who were you to refuse?
lifting your skirt showcasing your panties, he smirked and muttered "slutty little thing wearing this to a job interview huh?" and then right before you could respond a firm slap landed right on your ass "O-ouch!"
Your panties were immediately tossed to the side as he spread your legs, your cunt drooling. He curled two thick fingers deep inside your cunt, groaning while you whimpered - his office being filled with moans - you wondered what the people waiting outside would be thinking - couldn't say you could cared. He fumbled with the buttons of your blouse and soon tugged your tits out, pinching your hardening nipples with one hand while fingering you with the other.
"Are you close, sweetheart?" he asked in a sugarcoated tone, making you nod. He clicked his tongue. "Use your words." You finally let out a "Y-yes" before he started quickening his pace, setting you down on his desk. As soon as you squirted, he lowered his head while while his breath fanned over your cunt. He was seen lapping at your squirt aggressively while you moaned in pleasure.
After reaching multiple organsms, he let you go home, making you leave your panties so he could sniff them later - checking your phone, you got an email saying, "You're hired."
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You dig your manicured hands into his bicep while he scribbles something in his notebook, "Toruu," you whine, while his gaze is still locked on his notebook, "Hm, my love?" You make him meet your eyes using your fingers, "You aren't paying any attention to me, " you said, pouting your glossy lips, "Are your books more interesting than me?",
He leans forward to peck your cheek with a plop!, " You know that's not true, my love." He said, caressing your hands, "Its just that I need to focus, and you keep on distracting me." You gasped dramatically, "Hmph! Just say you want me to leave." You said, getting up to leave before he tugged onto your wrists, not tight but firm. "Let me gooo!" You whine, trying to shake out of his grip, "Sweetheart, please try to understand." He said while u got out of his grip and ran towards the exit.
—
Hair a mess, mascara smeared, and your silk sleeping mask tucked onto your eyes. Your phone lets out a notification, ping! making you wake up with a jolt pushing your sleeping mask up. The light of your phone blinding you, as you check the contact with a frown.
𑣲 toru : 38 missed calls
𑣲 toru : Baby, come back. I'm sorry, please.
𑣲 toru : I know you're mad, but please just hear me out.
𑣲 toru : I miss you.
grinning to yourself, you leave him on seen - well, he was the one who indirectly told u to leave soo. Until he sends another message.
𑣲 toru : Please just let me make it up to you, I'll do anything.
...weell, you were planning to ignore him - but your shopping wishlist wasn't going to complete itself.
you : anything???🤔🤔🤔
𑣲 toru : Yes, I swear I'll do anything.
you: hmmm
you : take me shopping
𑣲 toru : Whatever you want, sweetheart.
𑣲 toru : I'll be there at 6 pm?
you : okayyy! see you
—
You were sitting reapplying your lipgloss for the fifth time wondering what the fuck was taking him that long patiently, when you finally heard a knock! knock! You sprinted to the door and saw satoru standing with 2 bouqets and a huge box of your favorite chocolate, "Oh my god, toru," you cooed, planting a kiss on his lips while he grinned like a idiot in love. "Anything for your forgiveness." He said, holding out his hand for you to hold. You immediately held it and said, "You look so cute c'mon let's take a pic!" You said resting your head against his bicep and taking out your phone, click!
little did he know he's about to go bankrupt in the span of an hour.
Thinking about Android!Nanami and Android!Hiromi, who take great care of their Owner!reader…
Stay with me. 🙏🏼🩵
// Fluff short imagine… for now
You live alone in a relatively large house, passed down to you by your family. You’re an artist, introverted, and don’t need to leave the house much. On top of that you have some health complications that make it difficult for you to socialise properly and take care of yourself all the time.
In comes the perfect gift; two androids, able to take care of all of your needs. They look exactly like humans too (detroit become human style), making it that much easier to get comfortable around them. Of course each of them was built with specific qualities in mind, ensuring they perfectly complement each other.
Hiromi is in charge of your finances, a direct aid to your business as an artist. He is almost like a secretary, keeping you updated on all sales and upcoming events and galleries. He takes care of the garden as well, looking after the flowers, occasionally picking a bouquet to surprise you in your studio.
Nanami is in charge of… well, almost everything else. He cooks, cleans, and looks after your health, which includes making sure your home is safe and secure at all times. He would probably be around you the most, to the point where you’ll sometimes have to ask him to give you a moment to yourself.
They both take excellent care of you, ensuring you don’t need to worry about a thing and thus allowing you to focus on your creativity and health instead. You love simply chatting with them as well, though at first you had to ease them into it they quickly came around and started openly sharing their thoughts.
You still feel guilty sometimes, having this great connection with them and getting to know them has made you realise they seem like more than just machines. They are alive, and yet here they are stuck with you, forced to do whatever chore or task you should be doing. It makes you spiral sometimes. Of course they notice, they immediately understand the source of your discomfort.
They ensure you that despite the difficulty of their situation they are very happy around you and it is definitely not something you should feel guilty about. You see them as friends, family even, something that can definitely not be said for most androids out there. It is a sad reality for them out there. One that might change soon.
You all care for each other deeply and that’s all that matters for now…
kento nanami and hiromi higuruma couldn’t believe their eyes. you were right in front of them, you. the girl who would tease them with her friends back in high school. you were sitting across from the two of them in a coffee shop.
kento was the one who spotted you first.
he didn’t even know if it was really you at first, what confirmed it was when he heard your laugh. you were talking on the phone, it wasn’t loudly, but the cafe was pretty quiet.
kento gently kicked hiromi’s leg, said man was doing paperwork for a client. after kento kicked him, he looked up at the man confused. kento used his head to nod in your direction, hiromi turns around and sees you.
his eyes widened as he looked back at kento. when he looked at kento, he could see the man’s ears start to get red as he stares at you. the thought of you and kento together has hiromi’s face warming up.
kento finally looks at hiromi, he moves in closer to whisper, “i haven’t seen her since graduation.”
hiromi nodded, “same here.”
then they heard you giggling again, it was obvious you were trying to keep it down, but whoever was on the phone must’ve been really funny.
both of the men should’ve been focused on working, but once they saw you, the idea of getting work done immediately life their minds.
they both start remembering their high school days. the way you would tease them. but the reason they liked you was because of the way you teased them. you were different from your peers. your peers were bullies, but you were just mischievous.
kento thinks of the moment that he had fallen for you. it started in the second year in high school.
hiromi was sick that day, so kento had decided to do some studying in the library alone.
“heyyy kento. where’s my other favorite guy?”
kento looked up to see that you made yourself comfortable in the seat across from him.
“hello,” he says your name, “he’s currently down with a cold.”
“how long does he have left?”
“i said a cold, not a terminal disease.”
you laughed at the seriousness of his voice. kento was wary of you at first. the people you surrounded yourself with were awful people. but kento started noticing something, when you teased him or hiromi, you were never laughing at them. kento realized you were laughing at your own jokes.
anything you said out loud made you laugh, you were just so tickled by your own jokes.
once kento learned that, he didn’t really mind if you started occasionally hanging around him and hiromi to tease them.
you were with kento for about twenty minutes before a friend of yours came to get you.
“what are you doing over here,” a girl, kiyo called out. she looked at kento before scrunching her face up. “what are you doing hanging with this guy?”
the smile you had on your face dropped, “what’s wrong with kento?”
kiyo tilted her head, “kento? is that his first name? haru calls him ‘nananerd’” she laughs at the thought.
“aren’t you in class four?”
kiyo shuts her mouth before muttering, “nevermind, see you later.”
kento looked at you with a slight smile, “thank you.”
you looked at him for a second, “no problem nananerd.”
his smile disappeared and he went back to his book. he then heard you start to laugh at your own joke. he knew you were messing with him, the fact that you stuck up for him told him that. he couldn’t help but smile at your laugh.
hiromi’s was a little different. he had always thought you were cute, even before he realized your teasing wasn’t meant to be mean. his interest in you started during your first year.
the two of you had actually ran into each other on a weekend at the convenience store.
he was looking for a caffeinated drink, something to keep him awake, there was a final coming up and he couldn’t afford to tank it.
as he searches the fridge, he hears it.
“i would recommend the black canned coffee. it’s not very good, but it helped me pull my all nighter.”
hiromi looks behind and sees you. your head is tilted as you smile at him.
“i can’t imagine you studying.”
you laughed, “i said it was an all nighter, no studying was involved.”
he raised his eyebrows, “what could you have possibly been doing if not studying?”
you give him a mischievous smile, holding a finger to your mouth, “secret.”
that was the first time you and hiromi spoke. afterward, he would get used to your teasing. he knew you weren’t like the people you hung around with.
hiromi looks at kento, “should we talk to her?”
kento thinks about it, he wants to, he wants to so badly. but what if you think they're weird? i mean, sure you guys would probably convince each other's friends, but you weren’t close enough to get each other's contact information.
before he could answer, he sees you stand up from your seat. you have your head leaned onto your should to hold your phone, as your hands cleaned up your table.
you go and throw your trash now holding the phone with a free hand. as you turn away from the trash, you see kento staring at you.
he’s been caught. hiromi looks back at you, and now you see him staring.
they’ve done it now. you must think they’re creeps.
they see you raise your other hand, blowing them a kiss with a smile. you turn to the door to leave the cafe.
kento and hiromi want to run after you, get your contact information and do some catching up. but they don’t, i mean, it would be weird, wouldn’t it?
they both look at each other before sighing. kento speaks up first, “we should’ve talked to her.”
hiromi nods, “yeah.”
they start cleaning their table, ready to leave. they walk past the table you were sitting at when the see a note.
“to hiromi and kento,
i know the two of you were staring at me, i’m flattered. next time come up to me, i don’t bite ;)
don’t be cowards, text me at
xxx-xxx-xxxx
-love, the girl you can’t keep your eyes off of <3”
hiromi and kento look at each other before giving a small laugh. looks like they weren’t as subtle as they thought.
later that night you get two texts.
the first one reads,
“sorry for staring, i just didn’t think you could’ve gotten even more beautiful. i’m glad you left your number.”
that one was hiromi. in high school, when he heard you laugh, he said, “your laugh is almost as beautiful as you.”
you knew he didn’t mean to say it out loud due to the fact that he quickly left the library.
the second text read,
“i’m glad you caught us staring, and thank you for the kiss.”
ahh kento, ever the romantic. you made sure to text each of them back appropriately.
“i liked your eyes on me hiromi, don’t take them off. and i think you’re quite beautiful too.”
“the kiss was nothing. but if you keep this up, i’ll give you a real kiss, not one from a distance.”
that night, neither of the men could sleep. the girl of their dreams was texting them. and it was hard to sleep when they were so flustered.
“do you guys remember when you were too scared to talk to me in the cafe?”
hiromi laughs, giving your lips a peck.
“look at you sweetheart, you make any man weak and scared.”
“it wasn’t that scary.”
both you and hiromi laugh at kento.
“you nearly cried when she left the cafe!”
kento turns away, ears burning up.
you walk up behind him, giving him a back hug. “it’s okay to be nervous around me ken. i know you make me nervous too.”
he turns towards you, returning the hold.
“i’ve never seen you nervous around us. you just like to tease.”
｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ
a/n: thank you to @alebrasil0101 for the request 🙂↕️❤️ thank you for reading, i love you (. .*)β
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Somewhere only we know (No magic AU!Young! Nanami Kento x Fem! Reader x Young!Hiromi Higuruma)
Chapter 3: «Loser»
"Uh... I... I..." He swallowed hard when he saw the fear in her eyes. "I have a really good explanation."
Hiromi felt his nerves getting the better of him. The audience's silence wasn't helping, and neither was the terrified look on Y/N's face. She clearly thought he was some kind of creep. Still convinced he was about to expose her, Yu grinned. He stepped forward and pulled off her cap, revealing her face. The audience gasped at the revelation, and within seconds, phones were out as people began taking pictures and recording videos.
Gasp!
"I knew it!"
Ooooh!
Yu broke into a little victory dance, swaying from side to side. Nanami groaned and facepalmed yet again. Higuruma finally snapped out of it and helped Y/N back to her feet.
Click-click-click-click! Flash! Flash! Flash!
"I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry..." He bowed over and over again.
Y/N hurried off the stage toward the side closest to the emergency exit. Yu didn't hesitate to chase after her.
"Stop, you idiot!" Hiromi shouted, trying to grab him by the shirt, but Yu didn't even slow down. Instead, he kept running with such force that Hiromi was left holding a torn piece of his shirt.
"Let's stop him before he ends up getting arrested for stalking."
Nanami watched as Hiromi held up the ripped piece of fabric and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The three of them decided to leave as well, but the exits were already jammed with people trying to get outside and snap a picture of Y/N.
"Does that commercial band really draw a crowd like this?"
"Apparently so."
"Y/N is considered one of the best vocalists of her generation. It's not because of her technique—that's actually what her haters criticize the most—but because every performance is filled with genuine emotion and raw talent."
Higuruma and Kento turned toward Ino at the exact same time, wearing identical expressions of surprise. Ino shrank back self-consciously, darting nervous glances around him.
"Her album Shattered Midnight is a masterpiece. It stayed at number one on the music charts for three consecutive weeks."
Taka-taka-taka-taka!
Y/N was still running. Panic coursed through her as she realized she couldn't shake him no matter what she did. That guy's speed was inhuman. She pushed herself even harder, her anxiety rising as she noticed that, despite the crowded streets, no one came to her aid.
I have to lose him. If I can't find a police station, I'll call the police. Then I'll text Utahime so she can walk me home.
Her thoughts came and went as fast as lightning while she kept running in search of somewhere safe. Yu, on the other hand, was completely absorbed in his own chaotic plan.
Pof-patas-pof-patas!
"Why is she running? Is someone chasing us?" He picked up the pace, steadily closing the distance between them. "Is that a new pastry shop? I should buy some cakes to have with tea. Then Y/N will agree to join the band." His mouth began to water, and he slowed down. "I should have some money in my wallet..." He patted his right pocket, where he always swore he kept it, but couldn't find it. "Oh no! I left it at home!" He looked around and realized Y/N was gone. The realization didn't last long, though. Sweeping his gaze across the street, he spotted her lilac ponytail swaying as she turned into a side street leading to an alley. "I know! I'll borrow some money from Y/N and pay her back later. That way she won't be able to stay away from the band, and I'll be able to convince her to join." He gave himself a pat on the back. What a brilliant idea. That's it, Yu! You can do it, Yu!
Rrun-rrun-rrun!
Thanks to running into Ino's mother, they managed to get into the car. The only problem was that Yu was nowhere to be seen. Nanami was clutching his stomach, a sharp pain stabbing through it, while Ino kept trying to reach Yu. Hiromi chewed on a piece of nicotine gum.
"Did you guys get separated from Haibara?"
"He just took off running without thinking. Nothing unusual for him."
Rrun-rrun-rrun!
"We have to find him."
"He's not answering. Should I send him another text, or try calling again?"
"I don't think he's going to answer."
"Here..." Ino handed Nanami his backpack.
Rrun-rrun-rrun!
"Thanks..." he murmured as he searched for his stomach medication. He took a pill before washing it down with a sip of water.
"I see him!" Hiromi exclaimed, lightly tapping Ino.
"Mom, can you pull over here?"
"No, I can't. This is a loading zone."
"Then unload us."
"A little farther up there's a place where I can park. You can just walk back from there."
"Ma'am, we understand it wouldn't be right to park here, but this is an emergency," Higuruma tried to explain, but she simply shook her head.
"Mom, please. Nothing's going to happen just this once."
"Is that really the kind of manners I raised you with?"
"It'll only be this once."
"I said no. You're all overreacting."
Nanami tightened his grip on the bag. The truth was, he had already made up his mind. He had to stop Yu before he got himself into serious trouble. He unbuckled his seatbelt and reached for the door handle.
"Nanami!" Ino exclaimed, quickly pulling the door shut.
"Either park here, or I'll jump out."
Ino's mother stared at him in stunned silence before reluctantly nodding and bringing the car to a stop. The boys rushed out and immediately took off running down the street.
"You okay?" Hiromi asked Nanami.
"I will be once Yu starts acting like a rational human being."
Aaaah!
The three of them froze, turned toward the sound, and rushed inside. It didn't take them long to find Yu cornering a frightened Y/N, who was clutching her phone in one hand.
"Stop it already!" Nanami and Hiromi shouted in unison as they pulled him back.
"I just wanted to ask her to join our band."
Y/N blinked in surprise as Yu suddenly looked like a puppy being scolded all over again. Nanami lectured him for being so persistent and crossing the line, while Hiromi apologized without pause.
"A band?"
"Yeah! We have an awesome band! We just need a vocalist."
"What's it called?"
"It's called—!" Kento quickly covered Yu's mouth before he could blurt out another ridiculous name.
"It doesn't have a name."
"And what songs do you have in your repertoire?"
"None." Hiromi answered before Yu had the chance.
"Then... where's the band?"
"Right here!" Yu threw an arm around Nanami. "This is Nanami, our guitarist and, for now, our vocalist." Then he pointed at Hiromi. "Higuruma, our bassist!" Finally, he pulled Ino closer. "Ino plays the keyboard, and I'm the drummer!"
"And who's the leader?"
"All of us." He pulled out his phone and showed her one of the covers they had recorded. Y/N smiled as she listened to the music. They played well, and it was obvious they genuinely enjoyed performing together. But when the vocals came in, she immediately understood where they were falling short: ridiculous lyrics and a voice devoid of emotion.
Nanami repeatedly banged his forehead against the wall, utterly mortified. Hiromi gave him a sympathetic pat on the back.
"Guys... Even if you play well, there's no organization. All you have are covers and lyrics that just aren't suitable for serious music." She gave them an apologetic smile. "Being in a band is about more than playing well together. You're a team—a family. Even when there's trust between everyone, you still need someone dependable to lead the rest."
Y/N walked past them, ready to leave. Yu stared at the ground, tears welling in his eyes. Their dream had come to an end in that very moment. Kento started toward Haibara, intending to comfort him. After all, he had been the one to set that condition, but even he couldn't bear to watch the band fall apart.
"Wait, Y/N!" he called, gently taking hold of her wrist. His hands were sweating, and the furious pounding of his heart echoed in his ears. She turned to look at him, confusion written across her face.
✨ Banner diseñado por @alebrasil0101 para esta historia ☺️.
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