Keep thinking about proposing to Toph bxhsjs like.. she'd know you're up to something 100%, and she'd probably figure it out before you even ask. So like she tries to brace herself and be nonchalant about it, but the second she's actually faced with the question, she crumbles and gets super emotional AUGHH
adult!toph x reader — proposal
toph beifong knows. you could be the most discreet woman alive, moving with the elegance of a moonlit assassin, and she’d still be like, “why is your heartbeat tap-dancing?”
that’s unfair! you have spent weeks planning this proposal with the precision of a deranged scholar inventing a new branch of mathematics.
you have charts, backup charts, and a contingency plan titled: IF SHE FIGURES IT OUT, GASLIGHT LOVINGLY.
unfortunately, toph is toph—she clocks you immediately. the second you start acting even slightly weird, she’s suspicious. and by “slightly weird,” i mean you casually ask her what kind of metal she likes and then panic so badly you pretend you were talking about cookware.
toph just stares in your general direction, barefoot, arms crossed, smirking like a war criminal. “sure, babe. pots.” she knows you’re up to something, but she doesn’t know the exact shape of it yet.
or maybe she does, because this woman can sense lies through the floorboards, so she starts bracing herself badly. she decides she’s going to be cool about it.
she starts making little comments because she cannot help herself. “you’ve been twitchy lately.”
“i am not twitchy.”
“your left foot says otherwise.”
“my left foot is private.”
“your left foot is a snitch.”
and you’re sitting there—fantastic—your anatomy has joined the opposition.
toph tries to act like she’s not thinking about it, but she absolutely is.
she’s quieter than usual. she picks more fights just to feel normal. she calls you dummy in that casual tone that makes it sound like a felony. she steals food from your plate. she leans into your space.
“you’d be lost without me.”
“that’s why i’m trying to keep you, toph.”
toph freezes.
you freeze.
aang probably feels the emotional seismic event from three towns over.
“wow. corny. i’m embarrassed for both of us.”
but her ears are red. the actual proposal is not grand in the shiny, palace-balcony, doves-exploding-into-song way. no.
you propose on a cliffside after a sparring match, both of you dusty and laughing, your ribs aching, your hair a crime scene. the sun is setting. the dirt is warm under her feet. your heart is trying to unionize.
you don’t kneel dramatically at first and your brain chooses that exact moment to whisper, is kneeling too heteronormative or is the symbolic lowering of oneself romantically efficient?
toph tilts her head. “are you okay?”
“no. i’m being aerodynamic.”
“that means nothing.”
“it means i love you.”
you take her hand, and her fingers are calloused and warm and impossibly steady.
she already knows. you know she knows. she knows you know she knows. but then you actually say her name, suddenly she’s not smug.
you tell her you want every version of her; the loud one, the soft one she pretends does not exist, the bratty one who steals your blanket and then calls you dramatic for shivering, the fearless one, the scared one, the one who hears the world better than anyone—but still lets your voice be one of her favorite places to land.
you tell her that loving her feels less like falling and more like choosing solid ground, again and again and again.
toph’s mouth opens—but nothing comes out. which is terrifying because toph without commentary is basically a natural disaster warning.
then you ask. “will you marry me?”
she crumbles not elegantly. she makes this tiny broken sound and looks furious about it. “are you kidding me?”
you panic for half a second. “emotionally or legally?”
then she grabs you. both hands in your shirt, yanking you close like she’s mad at you for being the love of her life.
her forehead hits your shoulder. she is definitely crying. she will deny this later with the confidence of a corrupt politician.
“you dummy,” she mutters.
“is that a yes?”
“i swear to every badgermole in existence—”
“toph beifong.”
“yes!” she snaps. “obviously yes. spirits, you’re so dummy.”
then she kisses you before you can say anything. it’s messy and salty and laughing through tears, her hands gripping you like she’s anchoring herself to the only thing in the world that makes sense.
when she pulls back, she jabs a finger into your chest. “you made me cry.”
“i made you happy.”
you slide the ring onto her finger, and she goes quiet again. her thumb brushes over it. once. twice. she’s memorizing the shape. “you… really wanna be stuck with me… forever?”
and your brain—traitorous little lightning noodle—supplies about seven philosophical responses. instead, you kiss her knuckles. “toph, i’ve been stuck on you for years.”
she groans. “that was disgusting.”
“you loved it.”
“i loved you. the line was a misdemeanor.”
then she kisses you again anyway.
a/n: sorry this took a hot minute to post, beloved anon! rl has been chewing on my ankle lately. i’ve been busy with work and, for the record, i do not enjoy labor. lmao. anyway, thank you for your patience and i hope this feeds the toph hc <3
I love the way you write Toph! Here's some fluff idea inspired by your last post.
Reader is a bookworm, and Toph doesn't get it because why would you rather spend your time with your nose into some book instead of doing something more fun like sparring????
So reader offers to read to her, and Toph somehow ends up snuggled up to her neck while reader recites the story to her and strokes her arm or hair, and omg why does reader smell so nice?? And the sound of her voice is so soothing too???
Bonus point if they are not even dating, just on the crushing phase🩷
toph beifong x you
toph does not understand the appeal of books at first.
you'll be sitting peacefully with your book, fully immersed, and she'll just stand there with her arms crossed like you personally betrayed her.
"wow. sounds thrilling. truly, i'm shaking." she keeps trying to lure you away from reading with increasingly dramatic offers. "wanna spar?"
"no, toph."
"wanna go throw rocks at something?"
"no"
"wanna go throw rocks at sokka?"
".... tempting, but no."
she acts like your book is her romantic rival. she has beef with it (one-sided beef, but still), if you smile at a line while reading, she immediately points at you. "oh, so that's funny? but when i say genius things, you tell me to stop interrupting."
toph pretends she thinks reading is boring, but she's also deeply nosy, she'll be like i don't care while absolutely hovering nearby, trying to figure out why you gasped at chapter seven.
eventually, you offer to read to her, she scoffs so hard it should legally count as bending.
"what, you're gonna tuck me in too?" but she doesn't leave, in fact, she sits down-very much not interested-except she keeps asking questions every five seconds. "wait, why is he lying?"
"toph, i just read that part."
"yeah, and he's bad at it, i can tell."
she is the WORST person to read mystery stories to because she keeps guessing the plot twists way too early.
"this guy did it."
"you don't know that."
"his footsteps are suspicious."
"toph, there are no footsteps, this is a book."
at first, she sits beside you with this exaggerated bored expression, but slowly, she ends up closer.
first her shoulder brushes yours. then her knee is pressed against your leg. then she's leaning against your side like it was completely inevitable and not at all something she chose to do.
if you pause, she complains. "why'd you stop?"
"you said this was boring."
"well, i'm bored when you're not reading now."
toph absolutely does not know what to do with how soothing your voice is. she makes fun of it to survive.
"you always sound this fancy when you read, or are you trying to impress me?"
"is it working?"
"no."
it is working.
the first time you stroke her arm absentmindedly while reading, she freezes, you almost stop, worried you made her uncomfortable, but she just grumbles, "didn't say stop."
so you don't, and that's how toph discovers she likes being read to while being gently touched, which is deeply inconvenient for her entire personality.
she starts making excuses to get you to read to her. "your weird little paper drama, continue it."
"you mean the book?"
"yeah, the thing with the fake people and emotional damage."
(she slowly becomes addicted to the routine).
you reading softly, your fingers carding through her hair, her cheek tucked near your shoulder or neck, pretending she's only there because "the gravity is more comfortable in this spot."
sure, toph.
she gets very quiet when she's snuggled up to you, which is how you know she's absolutely losing the battle against her crush.
and the best part is that you smell nice. toph hates this development.
sometimes she'll hide her face against your neck and mutter complaints into your skin. "this is still boring."
"you asked me to read."
"yeah, because you get all smiley when you do it."
"you like when i smile?"
"don't get cocky, scroll goblin."
she definitely gives you ridiculous nicknames. scroll goblin, book gremlin, boba bun. but she says them with this stupid little grin that makes it very obvious she's fond of you.
if the gaang walks in and catches her curled up against you, she immediately becomes a menace;
sokka: "are you two cuddling?"
toph—still fully cuddling you: "no. i'm holding them hostage."
katara: "you look very comfortable."
toph: "interrogation tactic."
aang: "what are you interrogating them about?"
toph: "book crimes."
she refuses to admit she likes the romantic parts. she'll interrupt every tender confession with gagging. "ugh. just kiss already!"
"you want them to kiss?"
"i want efficiency! this is painful! i'm done with you, guys."
but if the characters actually kiss, she goes suspiciously still. and if your voice gets a softer during romantic scenes, she suddenly finds the gravity is very interesting. whatever.
toph is absolutely the type to tease you for blushing while she is also blushing.
"you nervous, pudding pop?"
"toph, your ears are red."
"my ears just have to act up whenever the weather gets hot."
"but it's literally the middle of winter right now...."
"i know, i'm blind, so remembering things isn't exactly my strongest sport."
"but blindness doesn't have anything to do with memory, though...."
"i know! the point is, i'm blind! like, what is wrong with these people? anyway, your whole face is stupid."
whatever.
the crushing phase is unbearable because everyone knows except the two of you. or rather, toph knows, but she refuses to label it because feelings are annoying and she would rather punch a canyon.
she just keeps choosing you, sitting next to you, asking you to read, leaning into your touch, and pretending she doesn't care while somehow remembering every single detail of your favorite stories.
one day, you mention a character from a book you read weeks ago, and toph immediately goes, "that idiot? i hated him." you stare at her, she shrugs. "what? i listen."
and that's the thing.
she does listen. to the stories, to your voice, to the way your breathing changes when you're trying not to laugh, to the little pauses you take before your favorite lines.
overall, toph beifong may act like she doesn't get books, but she gets you.
a/n: anon, my beloved, i’m so sorry this took a little while to answer i was fighting for my life with some digestive issues lmaoooo. but thank you for sending this in!! i love you and i hope you like it! <3
she'll map out a whole scene! soft restraints from woven water vines, teasing you until you're begging, then rewarding your good behavior with waves of warm, pulsing bends that hit every spot just right.
picture her after a long day leading the southern water tribe council; stressed, but channeling it into dominance.
harmony's her jam, so she'll have you on your knees, using ice shards for precise, chilly edging that builds tension. she whispers affirmations the whole time, "you're doing so well for me," before melting it all away in a heated release.
katara's empathy runs deep, so sensory deprivation is her go-to kink. blindfold you with a silk scarf (or bent mist for that ethereal vibe), then trail feathers, feathers of frozen water droplets that thaw on your skin. she's attuned to every gasp and adjusting the rhythm to your needs.
she's got a thing for temperature play. start with cool streams coiling around your thighs, building to steaming geysers that make you arch. but her motherly side shines in the afterglow, healing any redness with a gentle glow.
katara's into water whips that sting just enough, leaving faint, temporary marks she later soothes. but rooted in that protective love that makes you feel utterly safe while pushing boundaries.
mirror play for the voyeur in her sociable soul! she'll position you both in front of a full-length one (or bend a reflective pool), making you watch as she rides slow and deliberate, her curves glistening from self-bent sweat.
edging marathons are her forte! she'll count down the waves, each one stronger, using bending to vibrate against you without mercy. but her feeling side ensures it's consensual bliss and always pausing to check in with a soft "ready for more?"
her ultimate kink ties back to healing. blood play lite with controlled bends to draw tiny beads, then licking them clean while murmuring how you're hers to mend.
katara doesn't just fuck; she restores, leaving you marked in the best, kinkiest ways.
note; dear sweet anon, forgive me i’m actually criminally inexperienced when it comes to nsfw lmaooo but i’ll try my best anyway. thank you so much for requesting! i love katara with my whole ocean-soaked heart, and i hope you enjoy these hcs <3
You being busy with work but Toph wants attention and is trying to distract you but gets pouty when you still ignore her
OH THIS ONE IS TAKING ME OUTTTTT becauseeee toph would get so annoyingly pouty about it too!! then when you still don’t look up—it gets worse!
she starts by pretending she is not trying to distract you. she’s just happening to stand way too close. just happening to rest her chin on your shoulder. just happening to slide her hand over your desk and mess with whatever you were using.
aaaaand she says your name like it personally owes her money(?) a little whiny on purpose. "heeey." and when you hum absentmindedly without looking at her, she narrows her eyes—that was actually the rudest thing anyone has ever done.
if ignoring her continues, she is sitting on your desk, blocking your light, and stealing whatever you were holding and making you reach for it.
she gets so offended when work is apparently more interesting than she is. the pout comes out immediately—just enough attitude in her voice when she goes, "wow. so this is more important than me."
girl please be serious.... she is jealous of paperwork. of responsibility. of whatever boring thing is keeping your eyes off her for too long.
now you’re trying not to laugh instead of getting your work done. exactly as she planned.
toph would be sooo bratty about wanting attention, but the moment you actually stop everything and focus on her, she’d melt just a little and try to hide how pleased she is.
CAN YOU EVER WROTE TOHP DOMESTIC HCS?? I LOVE YOUR WRITING STYLE I WOULD LOVE TO SEE YOUR TAKES!!
domestic! toph beifong x you ♡
domestic!toph, claiming your spot before you even sit down. you get up for one second and suddenly she’s stolen your chair, your side of the couch, and half your blanket. when you complain, she just tilts her head and goes, "too slow." which is evil, but unfortunately made less effective by the fact that she immediately makes room for you in her lap.
domestic!toph, learning your footsteps so well that she always knows it’s you. you walk into the room and before you even say anything she’s already going, "hey, pretty." (she’s been expecting the exact rhythm of you all day).
domestic!toph, fully pretending she’s not clingy while actively attached to you at all times. an arm hooked around your waist in the kitchen. her chin on your shoulder while you’re doing something boring. one leg thrown over yours in bed like she has to physically keep track of you.
domestic!toph, stealing your clothes and then acting like you’re the dramatic one. you go looking for your shirt and there she is wearing it like she pays rent in audacity and she looks so annoyingly good in it that you cannot even be properly mad.
domestic!toph, being weirdly soft at night. she gets quieter. sleepier. more honest with her body than her mouth. suddenly she’s tucked against your neck, playing with your hair with zero self-consciousness—her favorite place in the world is wherever she can hear your breathing up close.
domestic!toph, treating your apartment like a battlefield she has already won. she leaves little signs of herself everywhere; hair tie on the counter, boots by the door, one of her bracelets on your nightstand, a cup she insists is hers now. it’s not even intentional half the time. she just settles into your space so completely that one day you look around and realize the place has become yours and hers.
domestic!toph, being so unserious while doing the most intimate things imaginable. she’ll be brushing your hair out of your face, thumbs warm on your cheeks, looking at you like you hung the moon, and then ruin the moment by going, "wow. you’re obsessed with me." (yes, but that’s not the point right now).
domestic!toph, absolutely loving lazy mornings and refusing to admit it. you wake up and she’s still half asleep, hair a mess, voice low and rough, one arm tight around your waist because apparently leaving bed is for losers. if you try to get up too early she just pulls you back down with a sleepy "no." no explanation. just no. and somehow you listen every single time.
domestic!toph, finding a hundred tiny excuses to touch you during completely ordinary moments.
domestic!toph, making home feel a little warmer, and a lot more yours. she turns routine into flirtation. turns teasing into tenderness. turns all those boring little in-between moments into the parts you end up craving most. and before you know it, home is not really a place anymore. it’s just toph beifong in your kitchen, stealing your food, calling you pretty, and looking so comfortable in your life that you can’t remember what the place felt like before she got there.
note; thank you so muuuuchhh for supporting my works💚 it always makes me ridiculously happy when you guys let me run wild with your ideas like this aaaahhh you are so appreciated, actually!!
Don't apologize for the blurb, it's feeding my thirst for this woman😩
Here's another thought: Toph snuggling to your neck because she likes the way you smell. Bonus point if she absentmindedly plays with your hair too (can you tell I'm obsessed with her)
Thank you for your service
OH MY GOD that is actually so cute???
toph absolutely snuggles into your neck, fully tucked up against you stealing your warmth and acting like you’re lucky she picked you as her favorite pillow.
and the hair playing... evil... because she’d do it so absentmindedly too. fingers lazily combing through it while she’s half-dozing against your neck. (this is just where she belongs now).
then if you point it out, she’d get all smug. "you smell nice. don’t make it weird."
which is crazy coming from the woman currently curled into your space like she signed a lease there.
OH MY GODDDDD PLEASE DO TOPH BEIFONG X FEMALE READER HC PLEASE GIVE ME jealous TOPH, teasing TOPH “i could throw you across the room but i’d rather kiss you” TOPH. I AM UNWELL. I AM ON THE FLOOR. I NEED IT EXPEDITIOUSLY. 😩😩 THNX ILY!
toph beifong when jealous
adult!toph x you
she acts like she does not care, which is exactly how you know she cares. the more casual her voice gets, the worse it is. "oh, so she’s funny now?" meanwhile she is already standing closer to you than necessary.
jealous toph gets meaner. (damn)
her teasing has more you’re-really-testing-me-right-now energy and she gets hotter when she’s annoyed.
she will absolutely interrupt your conversation just because she can. she just slides in, throws an arm over your shoulder, and goes, "you done?"
she gets touchy.
she calls you pretty when she’s jealous, but specifically in a way that feels like a warning.
"you know you look really pretty when people are trying too hard around you?" and now you’re blushing because what even is that sentence, toph???!!@@$#&
if someone is flirting with you, she gets so entertained by her own irritation. like she’s standing there thinking, wow. bold of them. stupid. then she says something smug enough to make them back off and spends the next ten minutes acting like she's the one being reasonable.
she absolutely pulls you into her lap in front of other people.
one second you’re standing there, the next she’s got you right where she wants you, arm around your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. and when you give her a look, she just smirks, "what? sit." (yes, ma'am)
jealous toph is extra flirty on purpose.
oh, you want to see if she’s bothered? congratulations. now she’s murmuring in your ear, touching your face, and saying things that make your brain short-circuit just so everyone around you understands the situation.
if someone compliments you, suddenly toph is complimenting you better. if someone makes you laugh, toph has decided she is now the funniest person in the room. this is her battlefield now.
she will deny being jealous even while actively proving it.
okay. sure. that definitely explains why you’ve been pinned to her side for the last twenty minutes and why she keeps kissing your lips every time someone glances your way.
the second you tease her about it, she turns it around on you.
"are you jealous?" you ask. she just tilts her head, and grins, "nah. i know i don’t have to worry, but i still like when people know you’re mine."
note; DEAR ANON YOURE SO FUNNY😭 actually obsessed with this ask. like this is taking me out in the best way. you are evil, you are correct, and most importantly you understand the agenda. thank you so much i love you!!
Now I'm thinking about Toph feeling my face and calling me pretty just to feel my cheeks get hotter 😩
toph beifong x you
toph reaches up, cups your face, and traces your cheekbones like she is committing them to memory. then she smirks.
"wow," she says, thumb brushing over your cheek again. "you’re really pretty."
your whole face goes hot immediately, which is obviously the reaction she wanted. she laughs under you, all smug and pleased with herself. "there it is."
"you did that on purpose," you mumble.
"yeah," toph says. "and..." her fingers linger at your jaw, casual and dangerous all at once. "you blush so easily. it’s cute."
and the worst part; she says it like she already knows you’re done for.
author’s note: i’m honestly kind of amazed bcs i’ve been getting quite a lot of requests abt toph lately, and i will be doing them one by one. toph, you are truly that girl!! also, please forgive this sudden little narrative outburst lol i genuinely could not help myself because the image of her doing that was just too sweet!!
thank you so much dear anon for sending me this message! you seriously made my day! pease send me more♡
note: the ancient fire nation records did not prepare him for the specific heartbreak of seeing you in pain and not being able to fight it directly.ᰔᩚ
boyfriend!zuko, learning your cycle like it is classified state intelligence. he notices patterns. the day your patience gets thinner. the way your lower back starts hurting before you even mention it. the exact expression you make when the cramps first hit and you try to act like it is "not that bad." he does not believe you for a second.
boyfriend!zuko, taking your period cramps more personally than you do. you are sitting there trying to survive quietly and he is looking at you like he would duel your uterus at sunrise if given the opportunity. there is genuine offense in his face, because what do you mean the pain just happens and he cannot challenge it to an Agni Kai.
boyfriend!zuko, becoming weirdly domestic about it. the tea is ready. the blankets are already warm. your favorite snacks appear beside you. there is a heating pad situation being handled with military precision. he tucks pillows around you. and if anyone interrupts your rest for something non-urgent, they will discover that fire lord composure has limits.
boyfriend!zuko, hearing you say "it’s okay, i’m used to it" and reacting like you just confessed something traumatic in a candlelit corridor. his whole expression changes, because in his mind, the fact that you are used to pain is not comforting at all—it is worse. now he is kissing your forehead, then muttering, with great seriousness, "you should never have had to get used to this."
boyfriend!zuko, sitting behind you and pressing both warm hands against your lower stomach or your back. and listen. this man is already a problem on a normal day. give him an excuse to hold you close, to anchor you against his chest, to rub slow circles into aching muscles while asking in that low voice, "here?" and suddenly your period cramps are competing with an entirely different crisis.
boyfriend!zuko, becoming absurdly tender when you get clingy. because yes, your body hurts and the world is annoying and you need him closer than usual. he does not tease you for it. not really. he just opens his arms and lets you fold yourself into him which—unfortunately for your dignity—you do. and when you mumble that you are being pathetic, he tilts your face up and says, "you are in pain. you are allowed to want comfort."
boyfriend!zuko, getting the full boyfriend experience the first time you snap at him because your cramps are evil and your hormones are in active rebellion. he goes still. you go silent. and then before the guilt can eat you alive, he just exhales and says, "you do not have to apologize for hurting in front of me."
boyfriend!zuko, mastering the art of period-era compliments because he understands that sometimes you do not feel like yourself. so he tells you you are beautiful. he brushes your hair back and says you look lovely even when you are glaring at him from inside a blanket nest with a hot water bottle clutched to your stomach. and the most offensive part is that he means it.
boyfriend!zuko, being so respectful about your mood swings that it somehow circles back into flirtation. if you want silence, he gives you silence. if you want company, he stays. if you want to complain, he listens like it is a royal briefing. if you want him to hold you and say nothing, he does exactly that. but the moment you are feeling a little better and start getting clever again, he narrows his eyes and goes, "oh, so this is the part where you recover just enough to torment me." (yes. obviously).
boyfriend!zuko, absolutely crumbling when you fall asleep on him from sheer exhaustion. cramps wore you out, emotions wrung you dry, and now you are asleep with your cheek against his chest while he sits very still so he does not wake you.
boyfriend!zuko, being deeply serious about the recovery meal afterward. no, you are not "just fine" because the worst is over. yes, you are still getting fed properly and he is standing there with that look that says resistance is futile. he may have once been a disaster prince, but now he is a man with a plan, and that plan is making sure you are hydrated, warm, and kissed on the forehead at medically irresponsible intervals.
boyfriend!zuko, making you feel so safe during your period that it becomes its own kind of intimacy. him adjusting the blankets. him handing you tea before you ask. him rubbing your back in sleepy silence. him knowing when to speak and when to simply stay. and suddenly the hottest thing about him is the fact that he loves you gently when you feel least lovable.
boyfriend!zuko dealing with your period cramps like it is a national emergency is now permanently lodged in my brain.
Imagine managing to successfully pin Toph to the ground. She's debating whether or not to flip your positions (which she very much can), or just stay put and pull you down for a kiss.
she 100% could flip you over in half a second, but she stays there anyway because she likes watching you get cocky😵💫
disclaimer: this is for the people currently experiencing the deeply humiliating phenomenon of falling for zuko all over again. you thought it was over. you thought you were healed. and then adult zuko arrived like a personal attack from the universe, and now here you are and drafting your wedding vows in secret.
boyfriend!zuko, falling in love with you so quietly that by the time you realize what is happening, it is already far too late. there is no polished confession under a moonlit sky. just him remembering everything. the exact way you take your tea, the stories you tell twice when you are excited, the little look on your face when you are pretending not to be cold. one day you simply wake up to the horrible, delicious truth that he has been loving you with his full chest in complete silence.
boyfriend!zuko, standing beside you like he is not being protective, when in fact he is being violently protective in the most elegant way imaginable. just one hand at your waist, one unreadable look, and suddenly the entire room remembers manners. he merely exists next to you with that prince-shaped menace in his bones, and somehow that is more effective than anything louder could ever be.
boyfriend!zuko, pretending his constant care for you is just common sense, as if it is perfectly normal for someone to notice when your hands are cold before you notice when your hands are cold. your cup is already warm. your chair has somehow been moved out of the wind. the sweeter fruit has mysteriously found its way onto your plate. and when you narrow your eyes at him like oh, so you’re soft now? he looks mildly offended and says, “i am observant.” as though that explains why your entire nervous system now wants to marry him.
boyfriend!zuko, flirting like every word costs him dignity, which only makes it infinitely worse for you. he does not shower you with compliments. instead he looks at you once and says something catastrophic like, “you cannot expect me to concentrate when you look like that.” then he goes back to whatever he was doing as if he did not just rearrange your internal organs. the worst part is that he means it.
boyfriend!zuko, discovering that he is—against all odds—a forehead-kiss enthusiast. forehead kisses before you leave. forehead kisses when you are tired. forehead kisses when he thinks you are overthinking something and need help coming back to yourself. and because the universe enjoys cruelty, this only makes his actual kisses more devastating. because how are you supposed to recover from a man who treats tenderness like a sacred art form and then kisses you like restraint is a thread already fraying in his hands?
boyfriend!zuko, getting weirdly, breathtakingly quiet when you play with his hair. this man—this former disaster prince—this composed and broad-shouldered adult version of your first fictional heartbreak, simply goes still when your fingers comb through the strands near his neck. you push his hair back from his face and suddenly he looks like he has forgotten every language except yearning. he closes his eyes. his shoulders drop. his breathing changes. and now you have to live with the unbearable knowledge that this terrifyingly competent man can be reduced to silence by your hand in his hair.
boyfriend!zuko, being the type to write short notes instead of long letters. eat before the meeting. do not stay up too late tonight. come find me when you are done. i miss you. and that last one has you staring at the wall for twenty business days because what do you mean i miss you in that plain, devastating handwriting like he did not just set your soul on fire in six words.
boyfriend!zuko, looking personally betrayed when you wear his clothes. he tries to be composed. he truly does. but then you appear wrapped in one of his robes or wearing his jacket with the sleeves too long, and he just stops—like his brain needs to restart. and when you ask him what is wrong, he says, “you could have warned me.” warned him of what? of the fact that seeing you dressed in something that smells like him would make him look at you like he has several unlawful thoughts and not enough patience to conceal them? yes.
boyfriend!zuko, being deeply romantic in a way that feels handcrafted for your downfall. he remembers the smallest things and turns them into care. he knows which days are hardest for you and makes himself available without making a performance of it. he takes you to quiet places with beautiful views and acts like it just happened naturally, as if he did not plan the entire thing with military precision. loving him feels less like being swept away and more like being steadily, exquisitely claimed.
boyfriend!zuko, making safety feel more intimate than seduction. yes, he is handsome and his voice should be regulated. but the thing that truly finishes you is how safe he feels. how your body unclenches around him. how easily you fall asleep against his shoulder. how carefully he holds your softer, messier truths without ever turning them into weapons. he does not make you earn gentleness by bleeding for it. he simply gives it, like love should have always looked this way.
boyfriend!zuko, absolutely losing whatever remains of his self-control when you get affectionate in public on purpose. your fingers on his collar. a lazy kiss near the corner of his mouth. your hand smoothing the front of his robe while he is trying, unsuccessfully, to maintain a conversation. outwardly he remains composed, because of course he does. inwardly he is one second away from hauling you somewhere private and asking, in that low voice, whether you enjoy testing him. and the answer is yes.
boyfriend!zuko, being the final, devastating form of a childhood crush because now he knows how to love back. before, he was yearning from a distance. now he listens. now he stays. now he cups your face like it is something precious and looks at you as though loving you is not a burden—just the clearest truth he has. and really, that is so unfair of him.
『••✎••』
anyway. i am being incredibly normal about adult boyfriend!zuko. by which i mean i am not.
childhood crushes are actually so evil because tell me why i survived zuko once, only for the universe to hand him back to me older, broader, quieter, and even more devastating??
Jika sebuah sistem stabil didefinisikan sebagai kumpulan elemen yang bergerak sesuai pola, maka Haruki Nakayama adalah anomali paling mencurigakan dalam rumah ini.
Adikku tipe yang bisa terdengar ramah bahkan saat hanya bilang “aku berangkat duluan ya” dari ruang tamu. Secara teori, kepribadian seperti itu seharusnya konstan—dan secara ajaib tetap tidak membunuh orang meski dikelilingi paradoks setiap hari.
Tapi beberapa waktu terakhir, ada deviasi. Bukan sesuatu yang cukup vulgar untuk membuat orang luar sadar, sih. Hanya perubahan kecil pada pola. Senyum yang tersungging terlalu lancar. Tatapan aneh ke arah panci saat sedang mengaduk sup. Nada suara yang lebih ringan. Langkah kaki yang terasa melayang.
Kesimpulannya: Perubahan kecil adalah awal dari bencana yang besar.
Karena itu, sore ini aku berdiri di ambang pintu kamar Haruki dan melakukan apa yang paling masuk akal saat menghadapi situasi mencurigakan: investigasi.
Kamarnya terbuka setengah, cukup untuk memperlihatkan ekosistem yang sangat identik dengan dirinya. Tidak berantakan, karena Haruki bukan barbar. Tapi tidak pula steril. Ini kamar seseorang yang hidupnya dibangun dari frekuensi, jadwal latihan, dan keputusan naluriah untuk berbuat baik pada orang lain.
Bass bersandar di stand dekat meja belajar. Kabel-kabel audio tergulung rapi di sudut. Ada amplifier kecil di dekat rak, beberapa pick warna-warni tersebar di meja, sticky notes berisi progresi chord menempel di sisi monitor, dan binder yang kemungkinan besar berisi lirik, chord chart, struktur lagu, serta catatan-catatan yang hanya bisa dipahami oleh manusia yang rela menghabiskan hidupnya dalam rapat band kampus.
Di dinding, ada poster musisi, flyer gig, dan beberapa cetakan foto yang dipasang dengan selotip bening. Semua terasa hidup, seolah dia berusaha memberi ruang untuk musik tanpa membiarkannya menelan seluruh kamarnya.
Haruki sendiri duduk di lantai, bersandar di sisi tempat tidur, bass di pangkuan, kepala sedikit tertunduk. Jemarinya bergerak di fretboard dengan akurasi. Ia memainkan beberapa not, berhenti, melirik lembar chord di lantai, lalu mengulang bagian yang sama dengan fokus tinggi.
Aku tahu cukup banyak tentang musik justru karena Haruki. Bukan karena aku tertarik. Aku hanya terlalu sering berada di radius penjelasannya.
Dari dia, aku belajar bahwa bass adalah otot dalam sistem. Bass mengunci ritme dengan drum, mengisi ruang di antara harmoni, serta menjaga lagu tetap stabil. Dengan kata lain, instrumen itu sangat cocok untuk branding Haruki.
Ia juga pernah menjelaskan padaku kenapa perpindahan chord tertentu bisa menciptakan rasa puas, atau kenapa nada yang tidak dimainkan justru sama pentingnya dengan nada yang dimainkan. “Memberi jeda itu penting, supaya emosi bisa tersampaikan satu per satu”, tukasnya waktu itu. Kedengaran metaforis. Mungkin karena pada dasarnya musik adalah bentuk lain dari emosi manusia. Bukan tentang apa yang muncul di permukaan, melainkan tentang apa yang sengaja ditahan.
Aku mengetuk kusen pintu dua kali. Haruki menoleh. “Eh? Kak, sejak kapan di situ?”
“5 menit lalu. Lagi surveillance.”
Dia mendengus. “Emang aku kriminal?”
“Belum tahu. Makanya aku selidiki.”
Aku masuk tanpa menunggu izin—hak istimewa seorang saudara tertua yang sudah satu aliran darah sejak lahir—lalu duduk di bean bag dekat meja belajarnya. Di situ ada metronom digital, tuner clip, dan cangkir kosong yang jelas sudah mati syahid sejak pagi.
Aku mengangkat salah satu lembar kertas. “Lagu baru?”
Haruki mengangguk. “Iya. Lagi coba cari line bass yang pas. Chord-nya udah kebayang, tapi aku pengin bikin pergerakannya lebih ngalir aja, sih.”
“Oooh….” —Nggak paham.
“Ngapain kakak ke sini? Bukannya nggak boleh, tapi biasanya jam segini kamu lagi vidcall sama cowokmu.”
“Aku mau bahas sesuatu.”
“Tentang apa?”
“Kamu.” Aku menunjuk dia pakai ujung kertas. “Kenapa akhir-akhir ini happy banget?”
“Lah?”
“Don’t ‘lah’ me. Kamu normalnya emang cheerful, tapi nggak sampe senyam-senyum sendiri sambil liatin pantat panci. Kamu kira aku nggak tahu?”
Haruki langsung salah fokus ke senarnya. Ia menyelipkan beberapa helai rambut ke belakang telinga—refleks Haruki saat salah tingkah. “Emang iya?”
“Iya.”
“Nggak juga.”
“Haruki.”
“Apa sih, Kak.”
“Haruki Nakayama.”
Dia menarik napas berat, jemarinya memetik satu nada rendah, lalu satu lagi. Padahal itu bukan jawaban.
Aku menyandarkan kepala ke bean bag. Hipotesis demi hipotesis berjejalan di pikiranku. “Oh my God, Haruki.”
“Apa?”
“There is a person.”
“Kak…”
“Pantesan. Aku tahu pasti ada sesuatu. Siapa? Wait—no! Bentar. Jangan jawab. Biar aku nebak.”
Haruki tampak ingin kabur ke dimensi lain.
“Anak kampusmu?” tanyaku.
Haruki bergeming.
“No way.”
Dia tetap bergeming.
“Anak Given?” ulangku memastikan. Given. Nama band yang sederhana. Ironis, mengingat semua anggota di dalamnya tampak membawa komplikasi emosional setara satu album penuh.
Haruki menggigit bibir. Itu sudah cukup jadi pengakuan. Aku menatap langit-langit kamar, meminta kekuatan pada semua dewa yang mungkin bosan menerima keluhanku. “Please tell me ini bukan bocah mellow yang rambutnya kayak habis diolesin selai jeruk itu.”
Haruki menggeleng kuat-kuat. “Mafuyu bukan—”
“OH MY GOD, BUKAN MAFUYU. TAPI PASTI DARI GIVEN, KAN?”
“Kak—ssst!—jangan kenceng-kenceng.” Haruki menempelkan telunjuk ke bibir. Wajahnya memerah sampai telinga. “Nanti papa denger.”
Aku berusaha menenangkan diri sesuai perintahnya. “Oke. Kalau bukan Mafuyu...” Aku berhenti. Menyipitkan mata. Lalu seluruh tubuhku membeku dalam realisasi yang sangat tidak menyenangkan. “Jangan bilang—”
Haruki menunduk.
“NO.” Suaraku refleks meninggi lagi. “WHAT THE—”
“Kak—SSSSTTT!!”
“.... Akihiko Kaji?”
Haruki, si pengkhianat, mengangguk samar.
Kini giliran aku yang membeku sepersekian detik. Aku harus bisa mencerna—atau lebih tepatnya aku harus bisa menerima kabar buruk ini. Tapi yang benar saja… berkali-kali kupikirkan rasanya tetap sangat konyol.
“Haruki… kenapa… dari sekian banyak cowok di bumi yang luasnya 510,1 juta kilometer persegi ini… harus dia tersangkanya?”
Haruki menatapku dengan ekspresi minta dikasihani. Sayang sekali aku sedang dalam mode siaga level tiga yang tidak mengenal belas kasihan.
Haruki mengangkat satu jari. “Pertama, jangan ngomong kayak aku adopt stray dangerous man from the street. Kedua,” Dia membuang napas, lalu meringis. “Aku nggak cuma naksir.”
Aku menatap dia. Dia menatap balik. Kami saling menatap. Lalu dia meringis lagi. Aku memijat pelipis. “Kalian udah jadian?”
Haruki mengendikkan bahu. “Kurang lebih.”
“Kurang lebih apaan? Kakakmu ini kerja di administrasi, jadi tolong kasih jawaban yang eksak.”
“Iya, iya…. Kami…” Dia menggaruk tengkuk malu-malu, lalu bicara lebih lirih. “... kami punya hubungan khusus.”
“Hubungan khusus your ass.”
“Maaf, kak…. Habisnya aku bingung harus jelasin kayak gimana.”
“Bilang aja: ‘Kak, guess what, I’m dating the suspiciously handsome guy with delinquent packaging.’”
Haruki melempar gulungan kertas ke arahku. Aku otomatis menangkapnya dengan satu tangan. Dia menunduk, ibu jarinya mengusap body bass tanpa sadar. “Aku pengin bilang dari kemarin-kemarin. Cuma…”
“Cuma?”
Hening. Suara metronom digital di meja tiba-tiba terdengar berisik, padahal alat itu mati. Atau mungkin hanya pikiranku yang dramatis.
“Aku takut kakak bakal judge.”
“Karena dia Akihiko?”
Haruki menggeleng. “Bukan cuma itu.”
Aku tahu maksudnya. Tentu saja aku tahu. Kami saudara. Transparansi di rumah ini bisa sampai level telepati. “Karena kamu suka cowok?”
Haruki tidak langsung menjawab. Tapi wajahnya mengiakan lebih dulu. Ada sisa gugup di sana, atau ketakutan yang mungkin dia sembunyikan rapi dari dunia, tapi tidak cukup rapi untuk lolos dariku.
Yah, memang ada hal-hal yang layak dipermasalahkan dalam hidup ini. Orang munafik. Sistem kerja tidak manusiawi. Kapitalisme. Mie instan yang hasilnya tidak sesuai di foto kemasan, dan lain-lain. Tapi fakta adikku kepincut Akihiko Kaji tidak pernah kusangka akan jadi salah satunya!
“Haruki.”
“Iya?”
“Sebenernya aku nggak masalah kamu jatuh cinta sama siapa selama orangnya nggak tolol.” Haruki berkedip-kedip. Aku melanjutkan, “So let’s be very clear. Aku nggak akan menghakimi cuma karena kamu suka sesama jenis. Yang jadi masalah adalah kalau orang yang kamu cintai ternyata brengsek. Itu baru urusanku.”
Haruki mendongak untuk membalas tatapanku. Adikku memang begitu. Dia bisa terlihat paling kuat saat justru sedang rapuh. “Aku tahu sih kamu bakal bilang gitu. Cuma tetep aja nervous.”
“Ya wajar. Jatuh cinta sama Akihiko itu di luar kendalimu.” Dan di luar kendaliku juga. Haruki tertawa getir. “Sekarang bagian yang nggak seru. Explain Akihiko Kaji to me like I’m a hostile investor.”
Haruki mengerang. “Kak, please….”
“Pitch me the man.”
“Dia baik.”
“Semua orang yang lagi kasmaran juga bakal bilang gitu.”
“Oke, fine.” Dia duduk lebih tegak—mode klarifikasi aktif. “Dia emang keliatan urakan, makanya aku paham kenapa kamu skeptis. Waktu dia ke rumah pun aku bisa ngerasain kamu jutek banget—beda sama ke Mafuyu atau Ritsuka.”
“Itu karena Ritsuka dan Mafuyu nggak punya aura mengancam.”
“Tapi Aki sopan, kan?”
“Shockingly, yes.”
“Nah.” Haruki menatap ke luar jendela yang kordennya terbuka separuh. Sorot netra madunya menerawang langit malam. “Dan dia sebenarnya perhatian. Dia... banyak belajar juga.”
“Belajar apa? Cara jadi less aura farming?”
Haruki mendesah lelah. “Kak….” Dia menggulung ujung kabel bass dengan jari. Gestur bimbangnya selalu tak kentara kalau bukan aku yang mengamati. “Akihiko sempet punya masalah sama masa lalunya.”
“Yeah, I could smell complicated history from three postal codes away.”
“Iya. Dia ngelindur sambil ngiler juga tetep kamu anggep lucu, kan?”
Haruki cemberut. “Pokoknya dia sempet… salah jalan. Dalam hubungan, dalam cara dia ngelihat dirinya sendiri juga mungkin. Tapi dia udah berdamai sama itu. Dia cerita semuanya ke aku. Dan dia janji mau berubah jadi lebih baik.”
“Janji doang mah gampang.”
“I know.” Haruki menyahut dengan mantap, seolah dia sudah mempersiapkan diri mendengar berbagai tuduhanku. “Aku juga nggak naif, Kak.”
“Terus keluarganya gimana? Mereka open sama hal-hal beginian?”
“Dia cuma tinggal sama papanya, sih. So far aman.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“Aku tahu dia nggak sempurna. Tapi aku nggak lagi nyelametin dia atau apa. Aku cuma...” Pandangannya beralih ke karpet. Ia tampak sedang mengais-ngais jawaban yang tepat. “Aku sayang dia. Dan dia juga sayang aku.”
Anehnya, dia malah terlihat seperti dirinya sendiri yang sadar dan berhati-hati. Itu justru yang membuatku semakin waspada. Karena Haruki Nakayama kalau sudah memberi cinta, maka akan dia berikan setulang-tulangnya.
“Aku masih nggak suka packaging dia,” lanjutku. “That man looks like he comes with downloadable problems.”
“Kakak harus percaya kalau Aki beneran baik banget. Jangan marah.”
“Marah kenapa? Kamu cuma pacaran, bukan join sekte.”
Aku masih mencoba menemukan titik balik dalam hubungannya dengan Akihiko. Aku tahu pepatah jangan menilai seseorang dari luarannya saja. Tapi siapa yang tidak berprasangka buruk ketika—di pertemuan pertama—kamu dihadapkan oleh drummer jangkung beraura Pol Pot dengan tindik menghujam telinga dan bibirnya? Belum lagi jaket kulit hitam dan celana jeans yang sobek-sobek di bagian lutut itu. Penampilannya sangat kontras dengan Haruki yang selalu berpakaian santun dengan warna-warna cerah. Aku seperti kena scam.
“Haruki, kamu itu adikku. My very sweet, lovable little brother. Kamu baik hati sampe kadang aku pengen nge-zipper mulutmu biar kamu berhenti bilang ‘nggak apa-apa’ ke orang yang jelas nyusahin kamu.”
“Aki emang beberapa kali nyusahin, sih. Tapi sekarang udah enggak begitu.”
“Ini berlaku buat semua konteks.”
“Oooh. Tapi aku nggak separah itu, kok.”
“Kamu separah itu.”
“Enggak.”
“Kamu pernah minta maaf ke meja karena kepentok.”
“Itu refleks!”
“Exactly my point. Jadi ya, tentu aku curiga sama semua yang deketin kamu. Apalagi Akihiko yang kelihatannya pecandu narkoba.”
“Kak, dia miskin. Duitnya mending buat makan bakso daripada nyabu.”
“Ya, oke, terserah. Tapi aku percaya kamu nggak main-main. Dan aku tahu kamu nggak mungkin memilih ini sembarangan. So, kalau kamu bahagia, aku bakal dukung.”
“.... Kak...”
“Jangan nangis.”
“Aku nggak nangis!”
“Kamu lagi mewek, tuh!”
Dia menaruh bass-nya ke samping, lalu menyandarkan dagu ke lututku, kepalanya mendongak padaku dengan senyum yang membuatnya tampak lima tahun lebih muda. “Untuk sementara, tolong jangan cerita ke mama sama papa, ya? Biar aku sendiri yang ngomong ke mereka.”
Aku mengangguk seraya menepuk kepalanya. “Iya. Dan misal mereka nanya, seberapa serius kamu sama Akihiko?”
“Hmmm… aku jawab; Aku sangat serius. Dia bikin aku merasa dilihat. Bukan cuma sebagai orang yang selalu ngurusin semua hal. Kadang aku capek jadi yang paling dewasa di ruangan, tapi sama Akihiko, aku nggak harus kuat terus.”
Sial. Itu jawaban yang bagus. Aku benci ketika orang yang kukhawatirkan ternyata memberi sesuatu yang benar-benar dibutuhkan Haruki.
Haruki tersenyum lega karena aku tidak langsung meluncurkan pidato anti-Akihiko jilid dua. “Tapi jangan salah. Aku tetep observasi. Kamu tahu sendiri, kan, cowok yang bisa dipegang cuma duitnya?”
“Aku tahu. Masalahnya, Aki jarang punya duit….”
“Kenapa selera kamu yang miskin, sih….”
“Justru karena hidupnya pas-pasan, dia jadi rajin kerja. Dia punya banyak part-time, kok.”
“Berarti harusnya kaya, kan? Ke mana semua duitnya?”
“Buat biaya kuliah sama band.”
“Papanya?”
“Complicated urusan mereka—aku nggak begitu paham sama drama keluarga Aki—dan nggak mau terlalu kepo privasinya. Tapi sedikit-banyak dia cerita, katanya mereka udah baikan. Cuman, ya, Aki udah biasa nggak bergantung sama orang tuanya.”
“Oooh.”
“Dia emang kadang nggak peka. Tapi dia tulus.”
“Kalau dia nyakitin kamu, aku bakal kubur dia di tempat yang nggak akan bisa dilacak polisi.”
“KAK.”
“Bercanda.”
“Mukamu nggak kelihatan bercanda!”
“Aku bercanda setengah.” Aku menatap bass di lantai, lalu lembar chord di dekat kaki Haruki. “Lagu baru ini tentang dia, ya?”
Haruki langsung merah lagi. “Nggak semua hal harus tentang dia!”
“???? Aku nanya doang loh???”
Dia mencubit lenganku. “Nyebelin.”
“Aku mastiin aja apakah Given sekarang memasuki era musik yang lebih hopelessly in love.”
“Jangan ngomong gitu.”
“Sebagai leader, kamu harus siap kalau aku bilang line bass kamu kedengeran lebih cringe.”
“Sebagian besar dikomposisi sama Ritsuka. Dijamin nggak akan cringe.”
“Good. Yang penting tetap profesional dan jangan keburu kissing mentang-mentang udah di backstage.”
Haruki kini duduk di sisiku, lalu menyandarkan kepala ke bahuku seperti waktu dia masih kecil dan takut petir. Padahal sekarang dia lebih besar dariku, sudah punya band, sudah punya lelaki problematik yang katanya bertobat itu. Tapi di momen-momen begini, dia tetap anak berharga yang akan menanggung banyak hal sendirian kalau tidak dipaksa bicara.
“Makasih udah nggak bikin aku takut, ya, Kak.”
“Haruki, rumah ini bukan tempat kamu harus takut untuk jadi dirimu sendiri. Paham?” Dia mengangguk, kemudian mengangkat kepalanya. “Sekarang lanjut latihan dan jangan biarin cowok punk itu ganggu jam produktifmu.”
“Siap, Kak.”
Aku keluar dari kamarnya sambil menggeleng, setengah geli, setengah ingin menyusun background check lengkap untuk Akihiko Kaji hanya dari kekuatan intuisi dan kebencian preventif.
Kami memang berbeda secara fundamental. Haruki adalah air hangat. Aku pisau lipat. Haruki membuat orang merasa nyaman. Aku membuat orang merasa sedang berhadapan dengan tukang jagal. Haruki menenangkan. Aku menyederhanakan masalah menjadi: bisa diperbaiki atau harus dipukuli.
Tapi justru di situlah intinya. Ia mengajarkanku bahwa kelembutan sama sekali bukan tentang kelemahan.
Dan kalau ada orang di luar sana yang berani melukai hati adikku, maka ia harus siap dengan fakta bahwa hati itu datang satu paket dengan aku.
