(5) Bitch to Me Briar: Everything and nothing always haunts me
John Logan x fem!reader
Summary: After learning Logan’s secret you start to distance yourself from me. On the other hand Logan finds himself wanting you more.
Warnings: slight angst, avoidant attachment, calm before the storm…
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You woke up the next morning in the most uncomfortable position on the hockey house couch. Your head was pounding not just from the looming hangover but also the discovery you had made last night.
I’m in love with my best friend’s girlfriend. Need help ASAP!
Logan was yearner.
Logan was in love with Hannah.
You felt sick again thinking about it.
After vomiting your guts out last night, you immediately claimed it was time for bed unable to look anyone in the eye. Though it took you awhile to snooze off as Hannah and Garrett kept talking in hush whispers as Logan excused himself to his room. He did make sure to throw a blanket over you before going up, which is besides any point.
“He’s so into her,” Hannah giggled to Garrett that night.
“I don’t know why he keeps denying it. Man is whipped.”
Whipped for your girlfriend Garrett!
Oh god how could you hang out with any of them now. You couldn’t even tell Logan you knew because then he would know you were Briar Bitch and then you could permanently kiss all your friendships goodbye.
When you readjusted to your settings you realized Allie was nowhere to be seen on the couch. Tucker was in the kitchen cooking up what smelled like bacon and Logan was sitting by the counter nursing a cup of coffee.
“She rises from the dead,” Tucker joked, as you stood on your feet.
You slowly made your way to the kitchen, making sure to take the stool the furthest from Logan. His eyebrows quipped up at the seating placement but he still slid a cup of coffee your way.
“How are you feeling?” Logan asked.
“Awful,” you mumbled, taking a sip of the bitter liquid.
“Eat up,” Tucker announced, placing a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of you.
“I could kiss you Tucker,” you said, immediately digging in. You nearly moaned at how good the food was.
Logan sat across from you watching you dig into your breakfast. Your hair was a bird’s nest from the sleeping arrangements and you were still wearing his hoodie. He would’ve offered his bed to you but you were in such a hurry to sleep, he never got the chance. His fingers twitched by his side, resisting the urge to reach out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.
“Where’s Allie? Please don’t tell me they left already.”
“Hannah’s still in Garrett’s room and Allie,” Tucker began, “I’m not sure.”
“Her shoes are still here,” Logan pointed at the front door to the chunky platform boots.
You took a look at Logan and really assessed the situation. All those times he would freeze up whenever Hannah’s name was mentioned all made sense now. And here you thought he was afraid of her and possibly into you. Nope! He was in love with your best friend.
Now volunteering for the Hurricanes made sense. You literally told him to “change his scenery”. Oh my god, he actually listened to you. All those Sundays spent in his pickup truck and getting lunch you thought you might actually have a shot with Logan. And the entire time he was distracting himself from the ache that was being cursed to love his best friend’s girlfriend.
How stupid were you. Hannah was great. Anyone and probably everyone should fall in love with her. She was funny, energetic, driven, and kind. She was more confident and outspoken than you’d ever be. It made sense why Logan would be into her.
Meanwhile Logan was busy staring at you twirling with your hair as you ate breakfast. He noticed you were always busying your hands when you were nervous. You didn’t have any reason to be nervous around him, maybe you still felt bad for getting drunk. But Logan would take care of you a million more drunken nights if it meant he got to dance with you like he did last night and see you in his clothes the next morning.
He didn’t know what to think of his crush on you. It felt something stronger than anything he ever felt for someone, including Hannah. You consumed his thoughts 24/7 with your vanilla scented perfume and glossy lips. He was an idiot taking so long to realize. But hopefully you’d still let him in.
“Do you want to come with me today to print out flyers for the fundraiser?” Logan asked, making you freeze mid-bite.
“Oh ummm,” you trailed off, picking at your food. “I was actually gonna meet with Amy today. We need to start making the design templates for the kids.”
Logan tried not to be disappointed but it was heartwarming to see you so committed to something. He knew those kids, including Katie, absolutely adored you the way they’d hug you good-bye at dismissal every afternoon.
“No worries,” he said. “We should hang out though, before Saturday’s party.”
You gave him a look.
“To make the cocktails,” he quickly added. “And maybe work on some stuff on the fundraiser.”
“Maybe,” you hesitated, “I have work but I could come over a little before the party.”
“I can pick you–Wait shit I think we might have practice.”
“It’s ok,” you assured. “I miss biking around.”
Tucker was watching this whole thing play out like the most exciting tennis match. Oh Dean and Garrett were going to have a field day with this new information. His buddy Logan was a goner.
There were footsteps coming from upstairs to reveal a very disheveled Allie.
“Where were you?” you asked, grateful to stir the conversation away from making plans with Logan.
Allie made a face as if she got caught and quickly said, “Bathroom.”
No one thought anything of it and returned to your breakfast. Allie took the spot in between you and Logan as Tucker passed her a plate. Unlike you, Allie did moan when she took a bite into the eggs.
“Never ever drinking again,” she whined.
The three of you just laughed knowing the same thing is likely going to happen this Saturday at Hannah’s surprise party. Dean came in, followed by Hannah and Garret and now the kitchen was packed.
On any normal day, you would’ve enjoyed the moment with all your closest friends, reminiscing about the night before over a family breakfast. Instead you felt like you were going to crawl out of skin watching Hannah in between Logan and Garrett.
You felt so bad for Logan that your past crush on him was an after thought now. Hopefully your advice was going well for him. At least Logan was available so you didn’t feel that guilty having a small crush on him. Yes, he was emotionally unavailable, but he’s always been that way you supposed. Crushing on a taken person. Shit sucks!
Even with Hannah standing next to him, all of Logan’s attention was on you. How you blushed when someone brought up your dancing skills or laughed when Tucker said Dean tripped up the stairs last night waking him up. You were only a few feet away but you felt so far. He kept trying to catch your eye but your head seemed to be somewhere else.
Once breakfast was done, Garrett ushered the three of you into his car to get your key situation sorted out. You blurted out your goodbyes quickly, shoving Logan’s hoodie into his hand before running off into the car.
“Thank you,” you said.
Before he could even react, maybe pull you into a hug or make a teasing joke you were already hauling yourself into the backseat of Garrett’s jeep.
Logan waited until he was in the privacy of his own room to see if his hoodie smelled like your perfume.
It did.
–
The next few days you did your absolute best to avoid any contact with the hockey squad. Most of them were busy anyways with the season kicking up so it wasn’t super suspicious you weren’t around. Everyone knew you also had an extremely busy schedule. Instead you spent time with Amy in her dorm, mapping out the design templates.
“So you and John Logan?” Amy began.
“We’re just friends,” you said.
“I see the way he looks at you,” Amy pressed on. “At first I thought it was cute when he would pick you up but at the bar last night I don’t think his eyes left you.”
Your face flushed in embarrassment.
“Are you not into him?” she asked. “I mean fair enough. I don’t really see the hype around hockey guys personally but Logan is definitely the cutest one.”
“I- We’re friends,” you repeated. “His best friend is dating my best friend.”
How did you tell Amy that it wasn’t happening because you didn’t want him but because he wanted someone else?
Amy was a good friend. She gave great advice when you needed it. Maybe better than Allie or Hannah since she occupied such a different part of your life. You both had known each other since freshman year but ran in different circles. But that didn’t stop you from getting close, especially since you started volunteering together.
“If I tell you something you need to promise not to tell anyone,” you said.
Amy suddenly straightened up from her laid back position from the couch. One thing about Amy, she loved a good secret.
“Oh?” she inquired as you gave her a look, “Fine I promise.”
“He’s in love with Hannah,” you whispered as if he were outside the dorm.
“What? That is not what I thought you were going to say,” Amy sputtered out.
You shrugged and continued to cut out your templates as Amy raised more questions.
“Isn’t she dating Garrett Graham?” Amy asked which you gave a slow nod to.
“Wait did he tell you? Cause that’s insane!” she then exclaimed.
“Well not really,” you said.
Well he told Briar Bitch which was technically you but too many secrets have been shared in the past 24 hours. You probably should tell someone about your online identity before the secret eats you alive.
“So how do you know?”
“I just know,” you said firmly.
“Ugh it feels like you’re just projecting.”
“Huh?”
“You obviously want Logan but you don’t want to admit it so you’re making up excuses,” Amy stated like it was an obvious fact.
“I–” you sputtered out feeling extremely exposed now.
“Am I wrong?”
“Well Logan is a great guy and very handsome and maybe I did have a crush like ages ago but he likes Hannah now.”
“Speculation,” she pointed out.
“Whatever it’s true,” you huffed, whether she believed you or not, “So it feels weird to pine over a guy who’s into my best friend.”
“What’s weird about it?”
Amy always asked questions before giving advice which you appreciated because it helped you think through your problems. Most times she didn’t even need to give you advice at the end because you had already talked the whole thing out.
“I’m not sure,” you sighed, “I don’t want to get competitive over something as shallow as a guy’s attention. Like even though I know Hannah does not care for Logan like that at all, if I do let myself fall for him I think I’ll get jealous of her.”
“Hmmm,” Amy nodded, “Well he’s not going to like her forever. At some point he’s going to get over it.”
“I guess but what does that make me? A second choice?”
“Not necessarily. You don’t know what he’s thinking. He could have wanted you from the start but since you shut down most guys he for some reason moved on to a taken girl????”
“I know it’s weird,” you sighed, “And I don’t have the time to worry about it.”
“Fair enough. This fashion show might be the stupidest thing we signed up for,” she sighed, ruffling through the pile of paper.
“Thank you by the way,” you said quietly after a minute.
“Well I also volunteer at the school so I kinda have to help.”
“No I mean I think verbalizing everything really helped with all the weird stuff going on.”
Amy turned to face you directly and offered you a kind smile.
“No problem. Just because you give good advice doesn’t mean you’re excluded from also talking about your emotions.”
“Oh,” you mumbled.
“Don’t sell yourself short. I think you might just realize what a really awesome person you are if you let open yourself up a bit and accept that love,” Amy said.
—
After you had flaked on nearly every plan Logan tried making with you he was starting to worry. Maybe you felt embarrassed on Thursday for getting too drunk? But you had gotten drunk before and still hung out with him. He supposed it was before you two were seeing each other almost every day.
He had texted you a photo of something that reminded him of a dumb inside joke you two had developed over the weeks. He was still left to be delivered two hours later. So now Logan was trying to distract himself by being a bit productive by studying for his upcoming mid-term.
“So when are you going to make your move?” Garrett asked, taking a seat on the couch.
Well there was no point in hiding it now. It seemed everyone knew that Logan wanted you. Everyone but you.
“I don’t know,” Logan sighed, “I don’t want to scare her away.”
“You’re just asking her out, not her hand in marriage.”
“Yeah but I don’t want to ruin it. It’s been fun hanging out with her but she seems so busy with all her other commitments I don’t want to overwhelm her even more. And I don’t even know if she’s into me.”
“She made you dance with her,” Garrett pointed out.
He traveled back to when your hands held onto his wrists to get him to sway with you and the way your eyes gleamed as you gazed up at him. His hoodie still faintly smelled like your perfume.
“Yeah but it feels like she keeps me at an arms distance.”
“She’s like that with most people. Probably everyone besides Hannah and Allie.”
“I just don’t want to push her away. Like I’ve really liked hanging with her and if she wants to keep friendly I rather that than lose her friendship.”
Even though his heart ached every time you were near and he couldn’t kiss your perfect lips. He had to refrain himself from reaching over the console to tuck away a piece of stray hair Thursday night scared that if he broke the touch barrier you would freak out.
“I guess,” Garrett shrugged, “I don't know man. I’m bad at this stuff. All I know I’ve never seen you look at someone like you do at her.”
Logan let out a huff and reached for his phone to see if you had texted.
You just reacted to the image.
And that was it.
—
On Saturday, practice had gotten cancelled so Logan decided to take a crazy leap of faith and drive to the bookstore you worked at. He probably should’ve texted you that he was coming but he was scared you might’ve shot him down. At least now you could tell him to leave face-to-face.
Man when did he get so pathetic?
The shop was pretty slow towards closing time so you were discretely scrolling through Instagram. You redownloaded the app but hadn’t logged back into the Bitch to Me account yet. After the discovery about Logan the thought of looking at some of the old posts with the chance they may be people you knew made you a bit sick.
Of course your algorithm had to read your mind because a recommended post of the Briar hockey team appeared and there Logan was looking handsome as ever doing a silly interview.
“Movie date or picnic for a first date?” the interviewer asked.
“Whatever the she wants,” Logan said with a wicked grin.
The shop bell chimed as you perked up to greet the customer. Instead the words “Hello” died at the tip of your tongue when you saw who walked in.
“Logan?” you asked, leaning over the counter to see him in his carpenter jacket and jeans walking in.
His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he looked a little nervous to be in the store. Was he even a reader? Not that you thought he was dumb it was just that hockey took up probably 90 percent of his time. You can’t imagine he’d pick up Fitzgerald in his down time.
“Hey,” he said, “Thought I might visit you at work.”
You raised your brow at him waiting for a further explanation. You told him earlier you didn’t need a ride so why was he here now.
“Ok…” you said, walking around the counter to pick up the stack of books to stock, “I thought you had practice.”
“Got cancelled cause the other team is suspended for two games for hazing. So now you don’t have to bike back to campus,” he shrugged.
When you didn’t answer he jumped in to fill the silence.
“So how’s work? When do you get off? Are you excited for tonight?”
Right. Tonight was Hannah’s surprise party. You needed to make sure you did not go past your limits and accidentally say something too revealing. Amy was coming so she could probably hold you accountable.
“Did they add another shot to your double espresso today?” you questioned, making your way to the romance section.
Ironic that was the shipment today. Why not self-help?
Logan laughed but still trailed behind you.
“So I was thinking we could grab dinner before the party tonight?”
“Oh umm…”
“Sorry this was really sudden of me,” he said, realizing how odd the situation was, “I just hadn’t seen you awhile.”
“You saw me Thursday?”
“Yeah well everyone was hanging out last night and you weren’t there.”
You were busy spilling your his secrets to Amy.
“I know you’re busy,” Logan said, “But if you still want a ride back, I’m all yours for the evening.”
“Ok fine,” you shrugged, just because he was in love with Hannah doesn’t mean you both couldn’t be friends. Honestly you were being suspicious, attempting and failing to avoid him. Also he was already here so it felt a bit mean to send him away.
And all honesty. You did sort of miss him.
“I get off at thirty,” you sighed.
“Sounds good. I’ll look around and let you work,” he said.
The thirty minutes went by quickly. Thankfully some other customers came in which you had to tend to so Logan tucked himself in the reading nook, grabbing something off the shelf to skim through. Once the very last customer had exited, Logan came up to the counter placing the book he had been reading in front of you.
It was Someone Who WIll Love You In All Your Damaged Glory.
Your favorite book. Well technically short story anthology but still.
“You were talking about it the other day and I finished the first story while you were working and it was great.”
“You can borrow my copy,” you said.
“It’s alright. Besides I need something on my desk apart from econ textbooks,” he shrugged.
“Hockey player picks up a book for the first time,” you joked, scanning and checking him out.
Logan just laughed, “So are you ready to go?”
You gave a nod and did one last look around the shop before locking up. Logan made a point of opening your door like he always did, but you were so occupied with double checking you had everything in your bag you missed the lingering glance he gave you when he rounded the car to his own seat.
“So what do you want for dinner?” Logan asked, “We could do Japanese, Italian?”
Oh you were going out? You and Logan had gone out to lunch before but it was always out of convenience. You didn’t know if you could handle a one-on-one meal with Logan now. You were scared if the silence got too long you might start blabbing unwarranted advice.
“Could we just order at the house?” you asked, knowing Tucker and Dean would at least be home.
Logan glanced over at you at your request. Though he was disappointed once again of you shooting down his plans you looked at him with a slight plea in your gaze that who was he to deny you. He’d give you anything.
“Sure. Do you wanna ask Dean and Tucker if they want anything?”
–
Back at the house, decorations and planning was in full swing. Logan made a quick pit stop at your dorm so you could grab a change of clothes since he insisted there was no point in going back and forth between places. Takeout ended up being a good call because Dean and Tucker have been too busy arguing whether to re-organize their living room that they were getting snappy at one another.
After you finished your meal, you were standing on the kitchen counter, taping up streamers to the ceiling. There was a spot you couldn’t quite reach for as you leaned dangerously close to the edge.
“Woah there,” Logan said, immediately coming over to grip your waist.
You already placed the piece of tape but Logan’s hands didn’t move until you were standing completely upright on the counter. You looked down at him with flushed cheeks, blaming the embarrassment of almost falling.
“Can’t have you falling and hitting your head before the party,” he said, looking up at you with those brown eyes.
The way he was looking at you only fed more into your personal delusions of the state of your relationship. You blinked down at him your eyes couldn't help but dart down to his lips. When he nervously stuck out his tongue to wet them that's when you snapped out of your trance. So you quickly mumbled a thank you and hopped off the counter to go get ready.
Logan’s gaze continued to follow your body as you scurried up the stairs, fingers twitching by his side as they ached to touch you again. That’s when he decided that no later than tonight was when he would properly make his feelings clear to you.
Next Part
A/N: Thank you for your patience! Next chapter is finally here. The original ended up being a lot longer so I split them up so sorry if this feels a bit more like a filler. The drama is coming next chapter I promise. Thank you again for all the support!
I had this idea and really wanted to write about it - if you like it I'll make a part two (disclaimer I am not a mechanic and know nothing about cars so sorry if theres anything that doesn't make sense!!)
The electric buzz of Malone’s filled the air as Logan stepped inside, the familiar sounds of laughter and music washing over him like a warm embrace. He scanned the crowded bar, looking for his friends, but paused when he caught sight of someone new at the far end of the room.
You stood out amidst the chaos, your laughter ringing clear above the noise. Your long hair fell in soft waves around your shoulders. He felt an unexpected jolt of attraction, something he hadn’t felt in a while.
Logan’s friends, Dean and Garrett, were at a booth on the left, engaged in a lively debate about the last game. He hesitated for a moment wondering if he should go over to you, then walked over to his friends. Todays game had gone badly and he didn’t need a rejection ontop of that.
You looked up just as he looked away, you could've sworn he was looking at you, but you ignored it, you didn't have time for hockey boys and hookups. Even if they were pretty.
Logan slid into the booth beside Garrett, tossing his jacket over the back. He kept one eye on your table, trying to be subtle. He listened to Dean launched into some ridiculous theory about why the game’s loss was definitely due to bad luck.
“Dude,” Logan said with a smirk, looking over at his friend and pouring himself a beer. “We lost ‘cause you missed that wide-open pass.”
Garrett laughed and Dean looked shocked.
He continued to protest but Logan wasn’t really listening anymore. His attention drifted again, your laugh had just risen above the chatter again, bright and easy and damn if it didn’t do something weird to his chest. He took a slow sip of beer, pretending not to care, but already wondering how he could work his way over there without looking obvious.
You both spent the evening with your respective friend groups, both stealing glances at each other when the other wasn't looking.
You were trying not to pay attention to the brown eyed hockey boy, but the tequila in your system was giving you other ideas. He looked genuinley happy, laughing and drinking with his friends, sometimes you could hear them from your table they'd get so loud. However each time you glanced over, you slowly began to notice the slighlt darkness under his eyes, his expressions tainted with exhaustion.
The tequila had definitely kicked in, your cheeks were warm, your laughter came easier, and everything felt lighter. Your friends were deep in conversation about some TV show you hadn’t fully been paying attention to.
Across the bar, Logan’s table was loud as ever, Garrett doing impressions of their coach losing his mind during timeouts, Dean nearly falling off the booth laughing. Logan leaned back with that easy grin on his face, the one that made girls turn heads without even trying.
But when he glanced up and saw you actually looking at him this time? His breath hitched just slightly.
He didn’t look away immediately like before. Instead, he held your gaze for a moment.
You blushed and ignored him, you'd hadn't had enough to drink to make bad decisions tonight and you had a job interview tomorrow anyway.
Logan’s smirk softened just a fraction when you looked away, oh. Not falling for the charm so easily. He kind of liked that.
Garrett nudged him with his elbow, raising an eyebrow. “Dude,” he said under his breath, loud enough only Logan could hear, “you’re staring.”
Logan rolled his eyes and took another swig of beer to hide it. “I’m not staring,” he lied.
Dean leaned in now too, following Garrett’s line of sight toward your table and then immediately grinned and proceeding to tease Logan further.
“Ohhhh,” Dean drawled. "That’s why you’ve been extra quiet all night.”
Logan shot him a warning look, half annoyed, half amused, but didn’t deny it.
The next moment, Tucker walked up with fresh shots and slid into the booth across from them all. "Alright boys! Who's ready to get properly wasted?"
You glanced over and saw Logans friends teasing him, most likely about you being his next 'hookup.'
"Hey, I think I'm gonna get an early night, this weeks been exhausting and I have that job interview tomorrow" you said to your friend. She agreed and you both finished your drinks, ignoring the boys table getting louder and louder as Dean had ordered shots. You walked out of the bar forcing yourself not to look Logans way.
The moment you stood, Logan’s gaze snapped to you. His smile faded slightly as he watched you grab your coat and say goodbye to your friends.
Dean was already hyped up on shots, slamming the table and yelling something about “chugging like champions,” but Logan barely registered it.
You didn’t look back. Didn’t glance his way once as you pushed through the crowd toward the door.
Garrett noticed first, waiting to see what his friend would do.
“She leaving?” Dean asked.
Logan just nodded, then without a word he slid out of the booth after you as his friends cheered.
Before he could get out through the sea of people crowding the bar, you were gone, likely already in an uber or walking back to your dorm with your friends. He mentally cursed himself for not going over sooner.
The next moment, his phone chimed, he groaned seeing his brother, Jeffs name pop up. He'd been ignoring his brothers messages, their dad was drinking heavily again, unable to work at the garage so Logan had to find extra time to help. Jeff had mentioned about putting a job ad out about getting an extra pair of hands but Logan had been reluctant, they barely had enough to cover Jeffs income let alone another person and Logan was already working for free.
Logan looked down at his brothers message.
Jeff: got someone coming at 11 tomorrow for an interview, need you to be there, I have to take dad to an appointment.
He stared at his phone, the glow of the screen cutting through the dim light outside. Logans head fell back in frustration, he didn’t know how to interview anyone, let alone on his own.
He exhaled sharply and shoved his phone back in his pocket.
Jeff was doing everything right: holding down their dads’s appointments, keeping up with customers, all while Logan got what he wanted, to play hockey, to have some freedom. He didn’t resent Jeff, he resented his father for not letting his children have the freedom they deserved. They had to cover for him while he drank himself into an early grave.
Rather than going back in to the bar, drinking more, and likely feeling awful in the morning. Logan headed straight home, texting his friends to say he’d see them later.
Your vintage truck purred down the quiet morning streets, sunrise painting gold streaks across the windshield. You were running early to your interview, thinking about the memories of fixing up your truck at your dads garage back home as you drove. Your scholarship money only went so far and now a month in you'd realised getting a job was the only option if you wanted to continue enjoying student life as well as studying. Your parents didn't have endless money to give you but they did their best.
As you drove, your mind drifted to Logan, you were sure he'd been looking at you last night and as much as you hated to admit it, it intrigued you. Although he was one of the infamous Hawks House hockey boys, he was quieter, harder to read. Not like Garrett or Dean who could often be seen chatting up girls left right and centre.
The interview wasn’t far from campus a small mechanic shop tucked between two buildings, Logan & Sons Auto Repair. You hadn’t realized it was connected to the Logans, until now.
Pulling up, you killed the engine and took a deep breath. Nervous energy buzzed under your skin, you really wanted this job. Not just for the money, but you genuinley missed helping your dad fix cars, it was an outlet for you.
As you stepped out in your simple jeans and tshirt, not wanting to look super dressed up and out of place for the job, a tall figure emerged from around back briar hockey hoodie on, hands in pockets, it was Logan.
"Uh hi" you said nervously.
"Hi" he replied, smiling, not believing his luck, "nice truck" he pointed his head you could tell he was taking in every detail of it, he looked in awe.
"Did you need help with it?" he asked. You looked back at him, confused and sightly pissed off.
"No" you said flatly, he'd clearly assumed you were here for help, not for the interview. "I'm here for the interview, but from that reaction you clearly don't think I'm capable."
Logan’s smile faltered and for once, the usually smooth-talking hockey captain was completely thrown off.
His eyes widened slightly. How had he already fucked this up?
He hadn’t expected you. The girl from Malone’s, the one who laughed like she didn’t have a care in the world, the one he’d been staring at all night, to show up here for the job.
And now you looked pissed. Rightfully so.
“Oh,” he said dumbly, running a hand through his messy morning hair. “Right. Yeah.”
He cleared his throat and straightened up instantly shoulders back, trying to be casual like he hadn’t just totally put his foot in it, but inside? Total panic.
Jeff had told him someone was coming at 11:00, but Logan hadn't actually got your name or anything. He just assumed it'd be some local guy looking for extra cash between classes.
“Sorry,” he added quickly looking guilty.
You'd been used to this, people at your dads garage thinking you didn't work there. They'd ask if a 'man was around' when they'd bring their cars in, especially as you looked younger. You spent years trying to prove yourself, showing strangers that you knew things inside out. It brought you back to those moments, not feeling good enough even though you knew you were. Part of you wanted to turn around and leave, but you needed the money.
"So, what do you want to know" you replied, your tone still cold but trying to remain somewhat professional.
Logan caught the frost in your voice, it hit him like a slap.
He’d done this before. Assumed things about people based on first impressions. Hockey had taught him to read situations fast, but right now? He was bad at reading you, and he hated it.
Without overthinking, Logan stepped aside and gestured toward the shop door with an open palm, “come this way,” he said quietly, softer than before. No jokes, no flirty charm, just trying to be polite and not make any more mistakes.
The garage wasn't fancy, concrete floor smudged with oil stains, tools neatly organized along one wall, but there was pride here, family photos tucked on a shelf above the messy desk.
Logan grabbed a chair from one side of his brother's cluttered desk and pulled it out for you. Then moved to sit the other side of the desk.
He cleared his throat, trying to sound official even though he had zero idea what a real job interview sounded like.
“So…” he started, wishing he’d prepared something beforehand. “What made you wanna apply here?”
His brown eyes studied your face, trying his best to act professional and ignore how much he wanted to ask you out.
"My dad has a garage back home, I worked there from when I was 10 until I came here" you explained. "You might not think it” you half laughed, referring to his earlier reaction, “but I know engines inside out, I'm not afraid of getting my hands dirty" you paused for a second, "and honestly, I miss working on cars." You tried to sound confident, and tried to be a little more friendly. You wanted this job after all, and you could see in Logans face he felt awful for judging you.
Logan’s expression shifted, he was genuine surprise, then respect. He hadn’t expected that, the passion behind your words, you loved cars, just like he did.
“Damn,” he said quietly, a small smile tugging at his lips again, not flirtatious or cocky, just impressed. “That’s… really cool.” You smiled in response, slightly smug that you’d caught him off guard.
Then Logan leaned forward slightly and asked with intrigue, “what kind of cars have you worked on?”
You laughed softly, thinking of the many, many cars you'd worked on in your barely twenty years, "literally everything, honestly I think my dad would've made me stay if he could."
Logan chuckled at that literally everything and the way you said it so casually, like fixing a Mustang engine was as normal as brushing your teeth.
He liked your laugh. Soft, but real, not forced or fake-flirty like so many girls tried with him. God, he was down bad already and he hadn’t even seen you work on a car yet.
“So,” Logan said, leaning back slightly with newfound curiosity, so if someone brought in a busted vintage Mustang what would you check first?”
It wasn't just an interview question anymore. He actually wanted to know if you knew your stuff.
Logan watched you carefully, arms crossed now, not to be intimidating, but because he was genuinely paying attention.
When you answered, it was confident, you weren’t guessing. The words just flowed like someone who’d actually torn into an engine more times than they could count.
And damn… that turned him on a little.
He nodded slowly, lips quirking into another small smile before pushing off from where he leaned and walking over to one of the bays where the exact car you were talking about sat with its hood up.
“Wanna prove it?” Logan asked casually, but there was a challenge glinting in his brown eyes.
Logan grabbed a wrench off the bench and tossed it lightly in his hand, then nodded toward the open hood.
“This thing’s been acting up,” he said. “Dies out when you idle too long. Jeff’s been swapping parts blindly, thinks it might be spark plugs or fuel pump.”
He stepped back, giving you space.
It wasn’t just about seeing if you could fix it, though yeah, that mattered for hiring someone. He wanted to see how you worked, your focus, your hands-on knowledge without hesitation.
Plus, watching a girl who actually knew her stuff under pressure? Kinda hot.
You didn’t hesitate.
Without asking for permission, you walked straight to the Ford, grabbed a socket wrench from the tray, and started checking connections. No guesswork. Just methodical precision: inspecting wires, tapping sensors with your knuckle like you knew exactly what sound they should make.
Logan stood back silently, arms crossed again, but now he was watching everything. The way your brow furrowed slightly in concentration. How you muttered to yourself as you worked.
This was it, he thought, he was going to marry you then and there.
Then, after about three minutes of diagnosis, you reached under the dash and popped off a cover panel near where fuel pressure would be monitored.
Your fingers moved fast.
Logan’s breath caught just a little.
You weren’t guessing. You weren’t flipping switches randomly like most people would. You were working like someone who’d done this a thousand times before.
And then click you pulled out a small gauge, hooked it to the fuel line, and waited for the pressure reading with that calm focus only experienced mechanics had.
The needle dropped low immediately below spec.
Your lips pressed together confirming your diagnosis before you looked up at Logan not smugly or dramatically. “Fuel pump’s bad,” you said simply.
Logan exhaled sharply through his nose, half laugh, half disbelief.
Jeff had been complaining about this truck for weeks, swapping out random parts like he was playing mechanic roulette. And here you were, you’d diagnosed it in under five minutes without even touching the engine block properly.
He stepped forward and peered at the gauge reading over your shoulder the numbers confirmed it, the pressure way too low.
“Holy shit,” Logan muttered under his breath.
“You’re… really good.”
"I did tell you that" you snickered, smiling triumphantly. Working on cars was like being at home for you. Comfortable, easy.
Logan grinned, wide, the kind that showed off his dimples.
Yeah. You had told him. And he’d been a dumbass for doubting you at first.
But now? Seeing you like this, relaxed, smiling, totally in your element with grease on your fingers and confidence radiating off you, it was really attractive.
He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit, and suddenly felt way more awkward than before.
“Okay,” Logan said with a chuckle. “You’re hired.”
No waiting around. No calling Jeff to approve it or whatever corporate nonsense there usually was when hiring someone new in a family business.
What was the policy on fratenizing with the staff again? Because he’d known you five minutes and already had proposal plans going round in his head.
one bed enemies to lovers trope with john logan x reader 👀🙈
coming right up, m'lady
Nothing good happens after 2 AM
pairing: john logan x reader
words: 3.1k
summary: you and logan couldn't stand each other on a good day, got along for the sake of your friends. So, sharing a bed with him should've been a piece of cake, right ?
warnings: language, one single mention of a boner, it's all fluff baby
a/n: it started as a blurb i swear
Briar U students knew how to party. There was always something to keep everybody occupied. Great alcohol, decent food, groups of people on the dance floor, some singing their souls out, students in corners and couches discussing everything from the latest episode of Love Island to Astrophysics. Everybody was happy.
So happy that often times after a party ends, some people don't leave. Every inch of the house would be covered in either something sticky and moist that needed no further pondering or a whole ass person who was already fast asleep. Couch, porch, hallways, living room, bedroom, everywhere. It was a miracle if someone got to sleep in the bed.
Logan predicted that this would be the case, halfway through the party. People already started to slump and lean on walls; it was a matter of time before his own room was auctioned off to some random people he had never met in his life. He ran up to his room, locked it, put the key safely in the pocket of his denims and walked back down to the party.
"What are you so happy about?" you chided. You were at the bottom of the staircase, two solo cups with something strong, one in each hand.
Logan pressed a hand to his chest in mock surprise. "Offering me a drink? What's the occasion?" He gasped, hand to chest. "Did someone die?"
You fixed him with a flat look. "In your dreams, hockey boy." You shoved the cup at him hard enough that some of it sloshed over the rim. He accepted it and leaned against the wall as he took a sip.
"Tucker asked me to give it to you. I'm just the messenger. Don't read into it."
"Sure," he took another sip, eyebrows furrowed in serious thought. "You know, you could've just asked Tucker to fuck off and bring it himself?"
"I could've," you agreed. "But then I wouldn't have gotten to watch you be wrong about something, and that's basically my, like, favourite hobby."
He tilted his head. "Funny. I thought your favourite hobby was pretending you don't stare at me at games."
You laughed incredulously. "You are so full of yourself."
"Right." He pushed off the wall and fell into step beside you, completely uninvited, because that was just what Logan did. Took up space like he was entitled to it. And as much as you pretended to be annoyed, you really, really weren't.
"And it has nothing to do with the fact that I look incredible in gear."
You turned to look at him slowly. "You are genuinely insufferable, you know that?"
Slowly, the crowd trickled down, shoulders slumped, and eyes started to droop. By 2 am, most people were passed out from exhaustion, alcohol, or both.
Logan finally headed up to his room, feeling accomplished that he got to have it all for himself. He changed out of his denims and into some comfortable sweatpants. His shirt was almost fully off when his door opened.
"Hey, mind if I— Oh shit." You slapped a hand over your eyes.
"What the fuck," Logan said, less a question and more a general statement of grievance at the universe. He yanked his henley down over his head and turned around. "Why are you in my room?"
"Garrett said I could crash here." You lowered your hand cautiously, confirming the situation was PG again.
"Crash here." He stared at you. "In my room."
"In your room," you confirmed, like it wasn't your ideal choice of a sleepover either.
"Garrett." He said the name the way someone might say black mould or tax audit. "I'm going to kill him."
"Incredibly valid," you said. "But maybe after? Because I genuinely have nowhere else to go."
He crossed his arms. The henley was dark green and soft-looking and you were absolutely not noticing that. "Garrett's room."
"Hannah's there."
"Right. Dean's?"
"Allie's in there, and I am not mentally strong enough to know what's going on behind that door." He just sighed.
"What about Tucker?"
You gave him a look. "There are five people in that room. I counted. Someone's sleeping in the bathtub, Logan, I am not going in there."
He considered his options, staring at the ceiling.
"And before you ask, both couches are occupied." You leaned against the doorframe and hated that you were about to do this. "Dude, I will sleep on the floor. I'm not even asking for the bed. Just— floor space. And a tiny little pillow."
Logan gave you a once-over as he considered.
You were still in your party clothes— some soft-looking sweater that had ridden up on one side where it'd gotten caught on your hip, dark jeans that were probably uncomfortable as hell at this point. Your hair was a mess, with strands falling around your face. You had that specific kind of tired that came from too much socialising and not enough sleep, your eyes a little glazed, your shoulders curved inward like you were trying to make yourself smaller.
You looked exhausted, vulnerable in a way he had never seen you before. You dragged your sweater down by the hem, suddenly self-conscious.
Something in his chest did something he didn't like.
"Do you have anything to change into?" he caught you off guard. Wow, okay. He did not have to do that. His back was already turned to you as he started rummaging through his closet.
"Oh? Um, no, no, I don't."
After about a minute, he threw a t-shirt and some pants in your direction. "Here."
You caught with the grace of a drunk person at 2 AM, trying to prove they had hand-eye coordination. Immediately after you caught it, he turned around, facing the wall. She stood there for a moment holding his clothes.
They smelled like him. Something clean and warm and distinctly so Logan that made the whole thing feel somehow you'd never felt before. You tugged your sweater over her head and stepped out of your jeans, suddenly very aware that he was maybe five feet away and actively not looking, which somehow made it feel more intimate than if he had been.
"Done," you said, after a couple of minutes, and your voice came out quieter than you meant.
Logan turned around slowly, like he was giving you time to object or change your mind. His eyes did this thing where they swept over you. He took in the sight in front of him. You, in what he'd never admit was his favourite t-shirt that he owned, standing in front of him, looking up at him, all tired and soft like you belonged there, in his room, in his clothes.
His jaw tightened.
"You're not sleeping on the floor," he said, and it came out rougher than he meant because he was already annoyed at himself for caring. He pulled back the covers on the side closer to the wall and nodded at it with all the warmth of a government official. "Take the bed."
"Where are you going to sleep?"
"Also, the bed." He said it flatly, daring you to make it weird. "It's a queen. We're adults. Stay on your side, and we'll both survive the night."
"Yes, sir," you said, with as much dignity as someone could muster while wearing someone else's sweatpants. He looked at you as if he were studying you, which wasn't doing you any favours.
You wanted to argue. You really did. But the bed looked soft and inviting, and you were so tired, and his clothes were warm, and some part of you, the part you that you would vehemently deny existed if anyone asked, didn't actually hate the idea of him being there.
"I know I'm in your bed and all, but if you snore, I am smothering you with a pillow."
"Noted." He was already pulling back his side of the covers. "If you steal the blanket I'm throwing you out."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
You got in without looking at him. He got in without looking at you. There was an unspoken agreement. We say nothing, do nothing, and we fall asleep.
You both stared at the ceiling. For a long time. The only sounds either of you could hear were the soft hum of the AC, leaves rustling and crickets from outside, and each other's breathing, which oddly put you at ease.
He knew you were awake. You knew he was awake. And it was getting increasingly hard to just lie there doing nothing next to a fully conscious person in the vicinity of your personal space. You decided to break the silence. Might as well.
"So, uh, how have you been?" You immediately winced. Why was that the ice-breaker you decided to go with, Jesus Christ.
"You know we don't have to make small talk. We can just sleep like, you know, regular people."
"I know, it's just— I am not used to extended periods of silence, and it is way too quiet in here, and if we don't keep talking, I think we will hear some things from Dean's room that we can never unhear for the rest of what will be our tragically short lives. So, what I'm getting at with way too many words than necessary is please keep talking to me."
He looked at you for what felt like forever before bursting into laughter.
"You know," Logan said eventually, still looking at the ceiling, "most people would've just said they were scared of hearing Dean."
"Dude, I am scared of hearing Dean."
"Fair."
You smiled despite yourself. The silence settled again, but it wasn't awkward like before. Logan volunteered this time.
"You looked like you were having fun tonight."
You turned your head slightly toward him, smirking at what he was implying. "Is that your way of asking if I was talking to anybody?"
"No," he scoffed, which came out less nonchalant and more defensive.
"Oh, it absolutely is."
"It's not."
"You are so obsessed with me," you teased, to which he just stared at you, deadpan. He knew you couldn't see it in the dark, but you could feel his eyes on you, and that made all the difference.
"No, you're right. I am deeply obsessed with you," he replied, voice devoid of any emotion.
You grinned into the darkness and hugged your pillow tighter. Why this revelation made you feel all warm and sappy, you were in no hurry to find out. You decided to keep pressing his buttons because it was surprisingly easy and fun to get on his nerves.
"Wow, you're terrible at this."
"At what?"
"Small talk, subtlety, all of it, really."
He snorted at that. "Good thing I wasn't trying."
That sent an unexpected flutter through your stomach that you promptly ignored because you were not giving John Logan, self-proclaimed frenemy, the satisfaction of making you blush.
"So," you said carefully, "how was your game last week?"
"You were literally there?" he said in a tone that bordered on incredulous.
"Oh my God."
"What?"
"You remember?"
"Of course, I do. You sit in the same section every single game."
Heat crawled up your neck faster than you could process. What did he mean he remembered?
"Wha— No, I don't!" you defended.
"Sure, you do."
"I don't."
"You absolutely do."
"You are making things up."
"You wore that ugly yellow beanie—"
Your jaw dropped. "It is not ugly. You take that back!"
"It looked like a highlighter."
"It was cute!"
"It was bright enough to guide ships through fog."
You shoved his shoulder, and Logan laughed. He actually laughed, and it wasn't the smug grin he usually wore. Not the annoying smirk that made you want to throw things at him. Not that knowing smile that made your skin crawl.
And suddenly you understood why people liked him so much. You noticed how he was effortlessly charming, how he cared very loudly, not thinking twice about the consequences or what others thought. You paid attention to the fact that he absolutely did not have to let you sleep in his bed, let alone entertain you or put up with your bullying talking.
Which was deeply unfortunate for you specifically, because now you couldn't stop smiling.
The conversation just drifted after that. There was no more arguing just for the sake of arguing, no more trying to best one another at whatever imaginary rivalry you had going. You just... talked. Classes, shitty professors, first relationships, last relationships, friends, family, home, everything, really.
Eventually, the room grew quieter. The words started to slow. At some point, you rolled onto your side. He did too. Eventually, your replies became single words. Then hums. Then nothing at all.
The last thing you remembered was hearing him say your name. It was way too soft and filled with... something you had no energy to unpack. He said it like he was making sure you were still awake. You weren't.
—
Morning arrived far too soon. Pale golden rays of sunlight crept in through the gaps in the curtains that swayed slightly from the AC. The light painted lazy strips across the room's hardwood floor, climbing over the dresser, the rumpled blankets, and eventually right across Logan's face. He frowned in his sleep and buried his face deeper into the pillow like that would somehow stop the sun from existing.
The first thing you noticed was warmth. The second thing you noticed was that the warmth was breathing. What the hell?
Your eyes flew open. Oh. Oh no.
Somehow, at some point during the night, every promise about staying on your respective sides of the bed had completely failed. One of Logan's arms was around your waist. Your face was buried against his chest. One of your legs was thrown over his. You were practically sprawled on top of him.
For a solid five seconds, your brain simply stopped functioning. Then all the memories came back. The party. The bed. The talking. The sleeping. The fact that you were currently cuddling Logan. Mortification hit you like a freight train.
This wasn't even the side of the bed you went to sleep in. You froze.
Unfortunately for you, Logan chose that exact moment to wake up.
"...Morning." His voice was rough with sleep, deeper than usual, and it travelled right through your body in a way that had you reeling. You considered launching yourself through the nearest wall.
Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. Logan made the mistake of looking down. You looked up at him, and immediately looked away again. "Oh my God."
"Yeah," he replied, like he had accepted his fate.
"Oh my God."
"I know."
You carefully untangled yourself and scooted backwards at approximately the speed of light. The movement made Logan grimace. You frowned.
"You okay, dude?"
His expression somehow became even more uncomfortable. Then realisation hit. Your eyes widened. His eyes widened. The silence that followed could've killed a Victorian child. Finally Logan dragged both hands down his face.
"Before you react," he said, staring firmly at the ceiling, "this is a perfectly normal, biological thing."
You immediately covered your face.
"Oh my God."
"It's literally just biology."
"I know it's biology."
You sat up, way too flustered to react like a normal person. He immediately sat up as well and grabbed your pillow, using it to protect what little dignity he had left. "Okay, then."
"I'm very aware, it's normal, i know."
"Good."
"Why are we having this conversation?"
"Yeah, I don't really know."
Another horrifying silence. You groaned. "I was basically sleeping on top of you, I'm sorry."
"It's alright, I'm sorry for... enjoying it too much?" he tried to manage, but let's be honest, that only made it worse.
"Nope."
"Yeah, that wasn't it."
"This is probably not helping."
"Definitely not helping."
You dropped your face into your hands.
"Fantastic."
"Fan... tastic."
It was silent for another lifetime before Logan decided that he had to protect his honour.
"In my defence, you were practically sleeping on top of me."
"Okay, in my defence, I don't remember doing that."
"You were using me as a weighted blanket," he argued. A laugh escaped before you could stop it.
The pillow shifted. Logan looked at you. You looked right back at him. And somehow the whole situation became so ridiculously awful that it wrapped right back around to funny.
You started laughing. Logan held out for maybe ten seconds before he cracked. "Wow, you're laughing at me right now?"
"No," you tried, but it came out as a high-pitched something that barely sounded like a word.
"Wh— you are!"
"I'm laughing at the situation."
"The situation is me living through the worst morning of my life."
"The situation is you getting a raging boner from basic human contact!"
"You and I have very different definitions of basic human contact."
That only made you laugh harder. Then the two of you were sitting there laughing like idiots over absolutely nothing.
A few minutes later, once the crisis had officially passed, you stood and gathered your things. Neither of you quite met the other's eyes.
"Well," you started.
"Well."
"We never speak of this."
"Oh, hell no."
"This goes to the grave."
"Absolutely. Scout's honour."
"You were not a Boy Scout."
"Not even close to the point, by the way."
You levelled him with a look before you continued. "If Garrett finds out, I move to another country."
"If Garrett finds out," Logan said darkly, "I'm killing him."
You nodded. "Call me if you need an alibi."
That pulled another laugh out of him, a sound that you were growing to enjoy more than you cared to admit. You glanced at him. He glanced at you. Something softened in his eyes that you were trying hard to convince yourself wasn't really there.
"So..." You shifted awkwardly. "Thanks."
"For what?"
You looked down at the oversized shirt hanging off your frame.
"The room, the clothes, the bed, everything really."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, don't— don't mention it."
The smile that appeared on your face felt impossible to stop. For the first time in a long time, neither of you had a sarcastic comeback ready, which was probably a much bigger problem than either of you realised.
Immediately after you left, he fell back against the mattress and scrubbed a hand over his face. His pillow and sheets still smelled like you, and it didn't bother him as much as he'd expected to.
He was staring at the ceiling in disbelief. Logan, who was aggressively a morning person, who loved waking up early for practice and catching the sunrise, had slept through four alarms. This was the best night's sleep he had had in ages. Fuck.
summary: it’s not because he, poe dameron, gives you more attention and affection than your own boyfriend ever will that you are in love with him — loosely inspired by this post.
warnings: angst, complicated relationships, love triangle?, mentions of marriage, break up, refusing a proposal, internal conflict, doubting your relationship, emotional infidelity? if that's a thing, alcohol consumption. reader wears a dress at some point
tags: f!reader, I don't wanna spoil too much and don't read this if you don't want to be but; mutual pining, love confessions, he fell first AND harder, fluff and,, more
word count: 5.6k
yes. mcr lyrics as a title. in 2024. I know. but don't look at me the lyrics strangely fit so,,
masterlist | taglist | ao3
updates blog: @eyelessupdates
You don’t love him; you are almost sure of that.
It’s not because you laugh at every single one of his stupid, lame jokes made just for you to laugh and because you blush everytime you catch him staring at you from across the room that you love him.
It’s not because he, Poe Dameron, gives you more attention and affection than your own boyfriend ever will that you are in love with him.
It’s not because your boyfriend blames you for being too close to him that you are.
It’s not because you wish it would have been Poe down on one knee proposing to you that it is the reason you told Kass you’re not ready for this yet.
And it’s not because you question your situation every single night that it means you have to change anything about it. You should be happy with Kass. You are.
Yet, you wish you were certain of all of that.
It has been two days already, and the guilt keeps eating away at you, like a bacteria gnawing at your feelings, particularly starving for the reasonable part of you that knows you said no for your own well being.
Kass makes it worse; the dark glances thrown at you whenever you bump into each other during the day and his lame excuses to ditch you whenever you want to talk to him make you feel like a monster, and though you know that it is exactly the way he wants you to feel, you can’t help it.
The situation is hard to swallow and bury deep in the back of your mind when you’re out on missions, and though you rarely ever get distracted because you know how important attention and concentration is in your job, the whirlwind of thoughts has been floating over the surface, and your focus has been off, you know it. And you’re not the only one who knows it.
Your head turns when you feel a light nudge at your arm, having dismissed Poe’s presence in your peripheral vision due to your distraction. His eyebrows raise when you look at him, and he gazes at you like the mist of your thoughts is still present over your face and he wants to shake you awake.
“You alright?” he asks before you look back at your squadron wrapping the mission equipment, setting it back in the ships.
“Yeah,” you breathe out, burying your hands in your pockets. You should feel alright. The mission went well despite your clear lack of attention, and you’ve given your life to the Resistance at this point, so you should be thankful that you succeed in most things you do in its name, right now even, considering the situation.
Poe looks down on the floor, kicking away a small rock there that dribbles down the hill. “You've always been an awful liar” he mutters under his breath, not buying it.
“Right” you scoff, your head dropping to shake it. He looks back up at you and you can feel his insistent gaze upon you, which eventually makes you break. “I don’t wanna bother you with my stupid problems”
He snorts, “Come on, you know I’m always here to listen to your stupid problems” he says playfully, nudging your arm with his elbow again. “That are often not that stupid actually” he adds.
There’s a silence settling between the both of you, and right before Poe aborts and figures you don’t wanna talk about it, you sigh. “Kass proposed.”
“Oh” the sound slips from his mouth, and accurately represents his surprise, his voice dropping a bit from the shock. He doesn’t know what to say, not really. This situation would have been on the list of things he would have never expected or even considered to happen.
This eventuality had never, ever occurred to him somehow, not yet, and now, all at once, the fear creeps in and becomes real; he is going to have to watch you get married, going to have to sit there amongst guests, he’s going to have to watch you be happy with someone else than him.
But he wants you to be happy, with or without him, so he will watch. It isn’t like he has the choice, anyways.
He lightly clears his throat, trying to dismiss the tight knot starting to form there, and smiles. The worst thing about it is the fact that it is genuine, he is truly happy for you. You deserve this.
Maybe Kass doesn’t, though. He doesn't deserve you. You’re too good for a half assed mechanic like him that, from a professional point of view, fucks up too often to still be there; but from what Poe hears around, it tends to be the same on other levels than just the professional one.
“Well, that’s great! Congrats,” his half cheerful voice wavers a little, but you don’t seem to notice as your lips form a polite smile that slightly turns perplexed, uncomfortable. “What’s wrong about that” he asks now, concerned when he sees your frown.
Your teeth graze your bottom lip. “I said no.”
“Oh” he watches as you raise your eyebrows, nodding. “I’m sorry” he adds. “I mean–”
“Yeah” you exhale.
“Why?”
That is the real question. Why? Why wouldn’t you want to marry your boyfriend you are supposed to be in love with? Why did you feel so awful at the feeling of his hand over yours when he shot the question?
“I don’t–” you start, thoughts running around your head. You’re not really sure about what you want to say, you’re not even precisely sure why you said no. There were so many reasons, but you couldn’t pick the exact one. “I think I’m not ready.”
Poe doesn't say anything. You stay there upon the small hill you watch your respective teams from. They’re almost done putting everything back.
You think you want to cry. You’re not really sure why. You think you want to dig a hole in that hill and stay hidden there for the rest of time.
“Poe, I don't think I wanna spend the rest of my life with him.” you mutter, looking ahead as if your confession would make you feel less guilty if you didn’t look your friend in the eye. “Is that wrong?” you ask as you turn to him.
“Yeah, well I don’t blame you” he scoffs, and you do too, knowing how Poe feels about Kass.
You should have known, it should have been a sign. Poe is kind, compassionate, and when he doesn’t like someone, it is because he has reasons to.
“That’s not wrong.” he continues, his tone serious now. “It would have been wrong if you said yes even though you knew damn well you didn’t want to marry him” he nods. “It's not the end of the galaxy if you said no. He'll get over it”
“Yeah” you sigh. “He keeps acting like it's my fault”
“Really?” he asks, raising an eyebrow in astoundment. He shouldn’t be surprised.
“Yeah. He avoids me and sends me death glares like I murdered his family or something” you snort, realizing the stupidity of it all now that you say it out loud. Kass has always been somehow childish, but this exceeds everything you could expect from him.
“Wow okay” Poe shakes his head, a small exhale of desperation escaping his mouth before he speaks again. “Well, you know how I feel about him, sweetheart.”
“I know” you confirm, sending him a weak smile. He answers you with a pinched one, and as your squad finishes their tasks and starts to gather together, Poe reaches out and squeezes your shoulder reassuringly before turning to join them.
He turns back to you quickly, “You know what? My squadron is having drinks on Coruscant tonight to have some fun before we leave for the week. You should join us”
You nod and watch him go, and feel the need to take one fat fucking breath before eventually joining everyone else.
—
Even though it is almost dry by now, the stain over your dress is still ridiculously visible. If the girl that had spilled it over you earlier hadn’t profusely apologized for it you would have most likely have had a go at her because of the awful mental state you were in – you were yourself surprised to notice how blatantly dismissive and weary you had been of that incident – it had been nothing compared to the past few days you just had.
Poe looks over at you, your gaze planted onto your glass of Black Hole as your fingers absentmindedly drum against the table; your choice of drink says it all, and though you might want to get properly drunk, Poe is strictly against it if it means you plan on moping all night long. He finishes his drink, planting a hand over your shoulder as he leans closer to you.
“Wanna go dance now?” Poe shouts in your ear, trying to overlap the loud music blasting. You scoff and shake your head, “I’m not really in the mood”
“That's exactly why we need to,” he affirms with his usual charismatic grin as he takes a hold of your hand and pulls you to the middle of the room anyway. “Come on!” you give in when you realize he’s not really asking, dragging you through the crowd. “You know I'm leaving tomorrow morning, you owe me a dance”
“Okay” you laugh as you put your hands over his shoulders, his coming to rest at either side of your waist.
You move stiffly at first, your eyes rolling playfully when Poe gives way more energy into it than you do, and despite yourself, you start to smile, and make an effort to match his energy.
Poe spins you around, his movements confident as he tries to cheer you up. "Just follow my lead, okay?" he says, his voice warm and encouraging. He twirls you under his arm smoothly, and you can’t help but laugh as he dips you dramatically, catching you with ease; he’s intimidatingly close to your face before he leans to your ear. “See? I’m not an awful dancer”
“Is there even something you’re not good at at this point,” you rhetorically ask as you both stand straight again, the movement making your head spin a little because of the alcohol.
“Following orders, probably” he jokes, still swaying with you. You laugh and let your forehead rest over his shoulder, your eyes shutting as you take a deep breath; it might have been the only moment in those past few days where you genuinely let go of all your worries.
“Hey, we should go outside, it’s hot in here. And loud” Poe proposes as you both still sway, his hand gently cradling your back.
“Sure” you nod with a smile. “Wait– I’ll join you there, I’m gonna get us drinks”
There’s a grin plastered over his face and a glint in his eyes as he glances at you when you join him outside, your drinks in hands. The cool night air is a welcome change from the overwhelming warmth inside the cantina.
“What?” you scoff, looking down at yourself, trying to figure out the reason behind his amused expression.
“Nothing” he shrugs off, taking his drink from you, but not before you catch the way his eyes linger on you.
“It’s the stain, isn’t it” you whine and sigh as you pull at the fabric of your dress to observe it. “Didn’t realize it looked that stupid”
He giggles as his mouth is still full of his drink. “It’s stylish” he admits with a cheeky grin.
You scoff and roll your eyes, your giggle fading as you both take a sip of your drinks, the silence between you comfortable as the muffled hum of the cantina’s activity buzzes just behind you. Then, out of nowhere, just as you’re about to talk again, Poe breathes out your name, his expression changing, becoming more serious as you glance at him expectantly.
“I’m in love with you.” he blurts out, like words are falling out of his mouth from being held there for too long.
You huff out a laugh. “No,” you laugh, the taste of your drink still warm in your throat. You frown a bit when you notice he doesn't waver, doesn't flinch, doesn't drop his expression to admit this is some kind of joke now that he knows it's not working on you.
“Yes I am” he declares, as serious as he is when he needs to be in his job.
You chuckle, still not fully believing what he's saying. “Are you drunk Poe?”
“Wha– no– no I’m not” he frowns, his eyebrows knitting together in earnest. “I mean it. I'm in love with you.” he affirms, his eyes searching yours with a seriousness that makes your heart skip a beat.
You pause, taken aback by the tone of his voice – he's sincere, he's not playing around. “You can’t.”
“I know.” he declares with a nod, his gaze never leaving yours. “I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore” he admits as his expression softens. “I don’t want this to ruin our relationship” he says, his voice calmer now. “And I know you can’t feel the same” he nods, “And that’s okay.”
You pinch your lips together. You're not sure what to say. You nod eventually, acknowledging it all, processing his declaration. “Well” you say finally, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “I, uh, I’ll go get another drink.”
Your glass is still mostly full.
Poe nods, swallowing with difficulty as he watches you turn and head back inside.
The sounds of laughter as you enter the cantina again make you sick to your stomach.
—
This went awful. He didn’t expect any less. He didn’t expect anything in the first place; his impulsiveness finally got the best of him.
Having to swallow it down and play it like it didn’t happen felt more humbling than every time he has had to admit he made a mistake. Jessika’s story about the maintenance issues with her X-wing is slowly starting to blur, and Poe isn’t even sure she’s still on that topic of that – at this point – one sided discussion, as he can’t help but glance over at you, talking to Karé until he eventually realizes you aren’t there with him anymore.
“Poe!” Jessika scolds him, making him turn back to her. She sighs, “You’re not even listening”
“Sorry” he apologizes, looking around the room to figure out if you’re still there. “I gotta go, keep that story for later” he nods, patting her shoulder before turning away.
“I just finished telling it,” she huffs out in disbelief, Poe’s repeated apology fading with the music as he disappears through the crowd.
You’re not in the cantina, not anymore. Karé tells him you went out for fresh air, and he finds you on the flight of stairs on the side of the building, hidden from everyone.
"I was looking for you," he halts– you're crying; you're there, sitting on the stairs, looking up from where you were hiding your face in your hands crying. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice wavering with surprise; he thought you were having a good night despite everything, having fun with Karé, he thought he had been able to make you forget about your problems for a moment. But no, and he obviously knows what’s wrong, because he managed to fuck it all up by confessing his feelings for you without thinking about it twice.
You pinch your lips, trying to repress new tears as you wipe away the ones rolling down your face. "Nothing," you mumble, shaking your head. "It's alright."
Poe sighs softly, walking up to you and sitting down with you.
He softly nudges your shoulder with his own, “You're rocking that stain,” he says, a small grin over his face. “For what it’s worth, you could even rock a First Order suit, so,” he smiles as he watches you laugh between sniffles. “You don't have to worry about that.”
He sighs, and his tone grows more serious. "I'm sorry I said everything I said. I shouldn't have burdened you with my feelings" he admits. HIs voice is filled with regret. He should have kept that for himself, for now anyway. “I was caught up in the moment and I didn’t realize it would hurt you more. It was stupid. It was unfair to you." his voice weakens. He looks back at your face. You blink your tears away silently. “I do realize it was possibly the worst moment I could choose to tell you this”
Poe gently wipes your tears away, before they can reach the bottom of your face.
“I don’t expect anything back from you, you don’t have to worry about that. This doesn’t have to change anything about us”
He kisses your cheek before leaving.
—
If you had to point out positive points about your indirect fight with Kass following his proposal, the fact that you weren’t living with him would be one of them.
The silence in your quarters alone was surely more bearable than the silence that would fill the space if he were there with you, you were sure of that.
And even if it’s been three days already since you rejected his proposal, you have barely talked to him despite going out of your way to try to; he has been hurt by your rejection, and he is keen on making you understand.
You can’t help but wonder if you would have been happier if you had said yes; maybe it would have been easier and maybe you wouldn’t feel so bad even though you still wouldn’t want to marry him, even if it is exactly the way Kass wants you to feel. Maybe saying yes would have been the right decision, after all, and maybe you would be set about your feelings for good with the prospect that you would allegedly spend the rest of your life with him.
Then there's Poe, his words.
Poe and his words that keep rolling around your head over and over again no matter what you’re doing and no matter what time of the day it is; those about the confession of his love towards you, and those that assured you that Kass would get over your rejection, that it’s not the end of everything, not the end of your relationship with him even if right now, it seems like a deadlock.
And almost as if it was staged, Kass steps through your door.
“Hey,” he speaks, hands in his pockets. You repeat the same thing quietly, looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to say anything, apologize maybe. He looks around your place before chuckling, pointing and walking over to the table. “It’s just– I forgot my gloves last time I came here and I need them”
“Oh, so that’s it.” you snort darkly, following him close.
“Yeah, that’s it.” he mutters nonchalantly as he picks up the pair. “What do you even mean” he frowns as he turns back at you, shoving his gloves in his jacket pocket.
“I mean you've been avoiding me all week and you think it's okay to casually come here just to pick up your stupid pair of gloves?”
“Well, they’re still mine, so” he shrugs. “And again, what do you want me to do”
You frown. “I don’t know, maybe apologize for your attitude for these past few days first. You’ve been childish”
“I’m childish? You’re the one who’s not ready for marriage.”
You chuckle in disbelief, “Yeah well, I’m sorry for not wanting assured long term with someone that behaves the way you do.” you say, looking at him in the eyes though you would rather be looking everywhere but here at the moment.
“You know,” you start, readjusting your position onto your feet. “I’ve been wondering, asking myself all of those questions, what was wrong with me for rejecting you.” he looks at you, hand still stuck in his pocket, waiting for you to make your point.
“And that’s what you wanted, right? But the one thing I really asked myself was ‘Why did he even propose’, because you don’t even care that much about me, so I don’t understand” you shake your head. “You shouldn’t have asked the question if you weren’t ready for the other answer”
He sighs, eyebrows raising slightly as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I shouldn’t have asked at all, you’re right.” he scoffs. “I realized that, and I should have realized when we started to drift away” you frown softly, waiting for him to continue. You’re not sure what he truly means beyond that. “I asked you to marry me to be sure”
“Sure of what”
He chuckles and huffs out your name like what he means to say is evident; “You’re in love with Poe” his eyes soften, his expression relaxing as yours hardens. “Don’t try to tell me otherwise or I’ll go crazy” he laughs nervously.
“Look, I get it. He looks pretty damn close to perfect. But you should have done something about it. I shouldn’t have been the one to realize it.” he says. You sigh softly, taken aback. “This is why I’ve been avoiding you. To try to come to terms with it. Accept it.”
Knowing this is the reason Kass proposed somehow makes it simultaneously better and worse. But he’s right; he’s fucking right, you’re in love with Poe and that is exactly why you were crying on those stairs the night before Poe left for his mission, maybe it is time to face it for good and to stop trying to convince yourself that you’re just confused because of everything that has been happening in your relationship lately.
“I’m sorry” your voice is poisoned by guilt. If it feels awful for you, it must be even worse for him. He scratches his forehead awkwardly, not really knowing what to say to you. “I tried to deny it to keep it fair for you. But I think you’re right.” admitting it to him, the man you’re supposed to be with and have feelings for feels even worse than having to realize it yourself. “I’m sorry Kass.”
Kass pinches his lips in a defeated smile, “I can’t hold you back.” he huffs out in evidence. “He is too” he adds after a pause. “In love with you, I mean. It’s so blatantly obvious”
You scoff, shaking your head. “I know”
“So you can work this out” he declares with a weak smile. “I won’t be an asshole about it” he mumbles. “I should be angry but I’ve tried to accept it for a while.”
You nod, somehow grateful he is so understanding, feeling sorry that it’s been so transparent for him for so long. Not everyone would let it play like this. "Thank you, Kass."
He nods in return before sighing deeply, the weight of the past few days lifting slightly from his shoulders. “I wish you well. I mean it”
You nod again, tears welling up in your eyes. “You too.”
Your heart tightens when his look lingers over you before he turns away and exits your quarters; both relief and guilt weigh over you, and the silence that fills your room now feels much different than before.
—
You don’t love him; you are sure of that. It feels wrong and even though you still feel some sort of affection towards him, you’re not sure you can be friends anymore given how you left things off.
On the other side, when Poe hops off his X-Wing ladder after a week of being away, you don't know how to act around him anymore. You don’t know if you should go ahead and tell him everything you’ve ever wanted to tell him or if you should just pick the opposite option and avoid him as much as possible to try to ease your conscience a little.
And you do. You busy yourself with work as much as possible, avoiding running into him as much as possible, but eventually, he doesn’t really give you a choice.
“Are we okay? You didn’t even welcome me back. It’s been four days” it hasn’t even been twenty seconds since the meeting ended; the meeting you spent all your time trying to focus on instead of him.
His stupid flight suit is opened in a way that reveals his gray tank top and lets the chain around his neck slightly peek, and suddenly nothing about the First Order supply depot infiltration matters anymore.
“We are. I was busy” you affirm – you’re technically not lying. Though you were keeping yourself busy on purpose.
“I bet you were”
You frown. “Hey what do you m–”
“Kass talked to me.” he dodges.
“Oh” your voice drops, the idea of that scene so unnatural. “What did he say”
He shrugs slightly. “I think you know”
That’s a good thing they talked, somehow, no matter how much the idea terrifies you. It lifts a weight off your shoulders to know you won’t have to explain to Poe how you left things off with Kass, because you would almost rather get interrogated by the First Order than have to think about it again. “He was pretty mature about it, I’ll give him credit for that.” Poe affirms with a grin, causing you to huff out a laugh. “He also said he's resigning from the Resistance. ‘Says it has nothing to do with you, he's been thinking about it for a while” he nods with a pinch of his lips.
“Oh, okay” your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Well, ships will suddenly do better magically”
He snorts. “I’m just glad I never let him take care of mine. I think Jess was complaining about that the other day” you laugh, and he smiles at you endearingly as he watches you. “So, are we okay?” he asks more seriously, though a faint smile lingers over his face.
“Yeah, yeah, we are.” you nod, weakly smiling back at him. “It’s just been a rough couple of weeks” you admit as he gives you an empathetic smile in response.
“I know what I want but I don’t know if I’m ready,” you eventually declare cautiously, not wanting to hurt him or make him feel like you're trying to push him away. “It has all gone so fast and I think I want things to slow down a bit.” he nods understandingly before being obliged to turn when someone in the briefing room calls his name; he holds his hand up to have them wait and rests that same hand over your shoulder when he turns back to you, his gaze holding yours.
“Look– I don’t want you to jump right into this if you’re not a hundred percent sure about it.” he declares with as much conviction he has when he fights for what’s right.
“This is my thing– to jump head first into everything. That's why I acted the way I did the other night. And it was stupid considering the situation and some part of you probably hates me for it somehow so you have to be smarter about this” he insists. “And I know you will be. And even if it’s in one week or one year or five, I can handle it”
“Okay,” you mutter feebly, his firm gaze over you making your stomach flutter.
He turns back and glances at the person who was calling for him earlier, turning back to you. He hesitates, looking like he wants to say more but is unsure if he should.
“Alright. I got stuff to take care of” he eventually says with a faint sigh, like being teared out of that conversation with you physically hurts him.
“Okay Commander” you grin teasingly. He smiles and kisses the top of your head, your hand instinctively resting over his arm despite your decision to maintain some distance for the moment.
"You know where to find me if you need anything," he says quietly, his hand lingering on your shoulder for a moment longer before he steps away.
You’re still not sure what you really want as you watch him walk away, sending easy smiles to his peers as he reviews details with them for the next mission.
You think about it all over again, as you remain here in the back of the room, leaning against the wall; the way he looked at you, the understanding in his eyes, his patience and willingness to wait – it all seems so easy with him that jumping right in suddenly doesn’t make you so afraid anymore.
—
The sky isn’t particularly clear tonight. One could have picked a more scenic place to come rest to, one where clouds wouldn’t be covering D’Qar’s two moons like a thin, old veil ripped to shreds.
Poe turns at the unexpected sound of boots ruffling against the grass, a small smile growing over his face when you grunt softly as you sit down next to him.
“You lied when you said I’d know where to find you, because I’ve looked for you everywhere before finally finding you out there” you sigh softly, drawing a laugh out of him, his eyes crinkling softly.
He shrugs, “You still found me, so I technically didn't lie” he says with a smile.
“You've got a point,” you huff out, settling beside him. The air is cool, cooler than it has been those past few days. You can’t help your lips turning into a smile as Poe's face softly glows in the faint light of both moons, his gaze gentle as he looks over at you.
His eyes twinkle with amusement when he talks again, interrupted when you shift to press your lips to his, his words quickly lost on both of you. His voice fades into a small sigh against your mouth as his hand immediately, almost instinctively cups the side of your face. Your hands grip the lapel of his shirt tightly, gently pulling him closer to deepen the kiss; Poe’s chuckle vibrates against your lips as you pull away, a slight flush visible over his cheeks.
“What is this?” he asks amused, the look of surprise genuine over his face. This goes against everything you told him you wanted with him for now.
“This is me being smarter about this, being the bigger person.” you affirm in an attempt to sound confident, but you’re still slightly out of breath, your heart racing.
Poe looks at you with a teasing, feigned impressed expression before he goes in and kisses you back, the press of his lips soft yet firm against yours.
Everything around you seems to fade away as you make out for a beat, losing yourselves in this, the soft breeze of the evening tickling both of your faces though your face heats up even more when his thumb traces your cheek.
When he finally pulls back, Poe's hand is quick to find your own, his fingers fiddling and lacing with yours, his gaze on you still intense. “So much for going slow, huh?”
You chuckle, “Yeah, fuck that” you reply with a grin, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.
You both fall silent for a while; it is rare for Poe Dameron to not run his mouth for longer than a few minutes, but the back and forth of his thumb over your hand and your head leaning over his shoulder seems to be enough for him at this moment.
You shatter the silence the moment the question crosses your mind. “What would you have done if I actually married him?”
He takes a deep breath, like the weight of the question takes a toll on him.
He smirks, “This would have probably made me join the First Order” he jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood. You huff out a laugh.
“Honestly?” he asks, his tone serious now. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t really know. What would have been the best option? The least worst? “I don’t know. But I would have skipped the wedding for sure.” you softly smile at him with a look of compassion, momentarily rendered speechless by his revelation.
He pinches his lips in a weak, beaten smile as he clearly pictures the scene in his mind again, just the way he did when you announced to him that Kass had proposed before eventually telling him you had refused. “Sorry. it would have hurt my poor loverboy heart way too much” he scoffs light heartedly though it’s barely a joke, just the truth.
“Well, next time I get married you’ll be the first person I invite” you promise with a light nudge at him, your hand reassuringly squeezing his.
“Next time huh?” he retorts with a playful smile, one that you mirror before the gentle push of his lips renders you breathless again. “Not if I invite you first sweetheart,” he jokes with one last kiss, your laugh barely audible.
Poe’s thumb traces circles on the back of your hand when he notices your gaze is there now, a faint smile remaining over your face. “Hey” he calls, urging you to look up at him. “One day at the time, okay?” he cocks his head forward, his voice barely above a whisper. “We don’t have to figure everything out right now.”
There’s no rush with him, no doubt, just the certainty that whatever happens, it will seem like the easier thing in the world;
also tagging people who seemed interested in this from the post related to this, please ignore me if you actually don't care<3 @lotusbxtch @piptoost @klillaah @lounilu @moonpascal
PERHAPS NOT. I'LL HAVE A FORCED PROXIMITY, ENEMIES, SMOTHERED IN THERE'S ONLY ONE BED, THEN LUSTERS, LOTS AND LOTS OF PINING, AND A RACK OF ANGRY CONFESSION TO LOVERS.
when you're reading a fic and they sprinkle in references that fit the time inside the fic and you realize the writer understands cultural context so you lowkey just ascend
Synopsis: Zuko and you have been dancing around each other for years afraid to confess, but the night of the lantern festival make it the best moment to confess years of pent up emotions…with the help of certain people.
Warning: zuko and reader or BEYOND awkward around one another, (it’s painful) Sokka and Toph are straight menaces, cute ending (3.9 wc)
“Okay Keila, I’m closing up! I have to be home in time to cook dinner.” Your friend owned a popular tea house on the far east side of Republic City, and on busy days you’d come in to help her make the desserts.
As you untied your apron and hung it on the wall, a clash came from the kitchen and Keila shuffled her way to the front.
“Wait! you promised you’d get dumplings with me and go to the festival.” You frowned, remembering the promise you made last week.
“I know, and I’m sincerely sorry. My cousins Katara and Sokka are visiting with their friends, and I said they could stay at my place for a few days. They have business to attend to here again, I’m so sorry.”
She pouted but nodded in understanding.
“They’re only staying for a few days. After they leave, we can visit the festival— or maybe even tonight, it depends if they’re too tired from the trip or not. I promise.” You emphasized the last word, offering her a smile.
She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Fine, you owe me big time!” You sent her a wink with a wide grin.
You caught a trolley home and immediately began working on dinner. You knew she had a unique group of friends from all over, so you decided to make dishes from their respective homes.
From vegetarian dishes to beef stew, with a few dessert choices on the side. You smiled, satisfied with the feast you made. Just like clockwork, a knock was heard at your door.
“Coming!”
As you made your way to the door, you could hear a groan. “Ugh, hurry up, my feet are killing me and I’m starving.” You rolled your eyes, knowing that voice belonged to Sokka. You unlocked the door and swung it open with a big smile. “Hi!”
Katara engulfed you in a hug, squeezing you with all her strength.
“Ow, Tara please— can’t breathe.”
“Oh— oh, I’m so sorry, I’m just so excited. We haven’t seen you in so long.” You grinned, fixing your clothes.
“I know—”
“Yeah, yeah, nice to see you. I smell food where is it?” You rolled your eyes, pushing him out of the way.
“Sokka, don’t be rude. She’s welcoming us into her home,” Aang chimed in as he made his way in. You always adored him he was so sweet and such a perfect partner for Katara.
“Thank you, Aang. It’s nice to see you again.” He gave you a wide grin, pulling you into a quick side hug before following behind Katara. You looked outside for the last two, but no one was there. You frowned, closing the door.
“Expecting someone?” Sokka appeared behind you with an egg tart stuffed in his mouth.
You rolled your eyes, nudging him away. “You’re going to spoil your dinner eating sweets first.”
He shrugged, mouthing “so,” as crumbs fell from his mouth.
As you sat down to enjoy dinner with everyone, a knock came a few minutes later quieter this time, not nearly as impatient as before. You wiped your hands together, ridding them of any crumbs, and smoothed out nonexistent wrinkles in your clothes as you made your way to the door.
“Coming—”
The door creaked open, and your words caught in your throat. He stood there handsome, tall, and… buffer than you remembered way buffer.
He was slightly turned, like he had just knocked and immediately regretted it, shoulders tense, hands tucked behind his back like he didn’t know what to do with them. His eyes flickered to yours for a split second before darting away.
“Oh uh… hi.” His voice was low, almost careful, like he didn’t know what his next words were going to be.
Your brain short-circuited, your tongue completely tied.
“Hi! You made it…obviously. Because you’re here.” You winced internally.
Geez, just stop talking.
Behind him, Toph snorted.
“Wow. This is painful already,” she muttered, stepping forward and nudging past Zuko like she owned the place. “Are you gonna let us in, or are you two just gonna stand here breathing weird at each other?”
Of course she’d point out the obvious and make things weirder. Your face burned with embarrassment as you glared at her.
“Right sorry, come in!” Zuko stepped inside carefully, like he was entering somewhere important. His gaze flickered around your home for a second before landing back on you then quickly away again.
“It smells good,” he said, almost too quiet.
You blinked a few times. “Oh thank you! I tried to make a little bit of everything since, um, everyone’s from different places and I didn’t know what you’d like and—”
You cut yourself off, heat creeping up your neck. Toph leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a slow grin spreading across her face.
“Yeah,” she said flatly, “I can tell you put a lot of thought into it.”
Zuko stiffened, shooting her a look. “Toph—”
“What?” she shrugged, completely unbothered. “I’m just saying. Girl cooked like it was a royal banquet.”
Your eyes widened. “It’s not that serious—!”
“It kind of is,” she cut in, smirking. “Twinkletoes didn’t even get this treatment.”
From inside, Sokka yelled, “HEY—WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!”
You laughed nervously, fidgeting with your fingers. “Ignore them, please. Do you want to sit? Or I mean, food’s ready, so—”
Zuko nodded quickly. “Yeah. I mean whatever you… yeah.”
Spirits…
Toph walked past you, bumping your shoulder lightly as she went.
“Relax,” she murmured just loud enough for you to hear. “He’s worse than you.”
You blinked after her. “…that doesn’t make me feel any better Toph.”
Across the room, Zuko hovered awkwardly near the table, like he wasn’t sure where to stand or if he should touch anything. His eyes flicked toward you again—softer this time, lingering just a second too long before he looked away.
•••
The last of the dishes were set down with a soft clink, the room still warm with the remnants of laughter and full stomachs. The lanterns you’d lit earlier flickered gently against the walls, casting everything in a soft amber glow.
“I’ll help clean,” Katara said, already rolling up her sleeves.
“No, no, you’re guests—” you started, but she waved you off. “It’s the least we can do.”
From the table, Sokka leaned back with a satisfied groan as his bloated stomach poked out from under his clothes. “I’ve done my part. I ate everything.”
“You didn’t do anything,” Katara snapped as she threw a hand towel at her brother.
“I supported morale.” A soft laugh slipped from you before you could stop it. You truly missed being around your cousins they were like siblings to you.
“I’ll help too,” Aang chimed, already stacking plates.
You turned to grab the basin, only to nearly run into Zuko.
“Oh— sorry!”
“I— no, it’s my fault,” he said quickly, stepping back, hands hovering awkwardly at his sides before settling on the edge of the counter like he needed something to ground himself.
“I can… help. If you want.” You nodded, a little too fast. “Yeah. That would be nice.” From the doorway, Toph let out a quiet snort.
Aang lingered for a second, glancing between you and Zuko with a small, knowing smile before Katara grabbed his sleeve and tugged him away.
“Come on, I need help with uh— something.”
“You just said—” Aang started, confused, but let himself be pulled along.
Sokka popped his head in, already chewing on something he’d definitely stolen from the table. “If you need me, I’ll be—”
“You’re not needed,” Katara and Toph said at the same time.
“Rude,” he mumbled, disappearing anyway.
And just like that It was quiet.
The water in the basin rippled softly as you dipped your hands in, the warmth grounding, familiar. You focused on the dishes, on the rhythm wash, rinse, pass. Zuko took them from you, drying them carefully, like each plate might shatter if he held it wrong.
For a while, neither of you spoke .Your fingers brushed when you handed him a bowl sending a jolt through you, you both pulled back quickly.
“Sorry,” you both said simultaneously.
You both froze then let out quiet, embarrassed laughs that died just as quickly as they came.
The silence that followed felt… different.
From the other room, voices carried faintly through the open doorway. You focused on them to try and ease your awkwardness but that made it worse.
“…I’m telling you,” Sokka’s voice said, low but not low enough, “if they don’t figure it out soon, I’m locking them in here.”
“You can’t just— Sokka, that’s not how feelings work,” his sister combated.
“It’s been years,” Toph cut in, blunt as ever. “They’ve been pining for each other since...well forever.”
Silence.
Your hand stilled in the water, across from you, Zuko went completely still.
As much as you wished you couldn’t unhear it. You didn’t look at him at first, the water had gone still around your hands. Your chest was tight from anticipation, you glanced at him as he was still at work.
“…is that true?” Your voice came out quieter than you meant it to.
For a moment, there was nothing. Then her softly spoke “I didn’t think you knew.”
You looked up, he wasn’t looking at you his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder, jaw tight, like the words had been pulled out of him against his will.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” you asked before you could stop yourself. He let out a small, humorless breath. “Because… I didn’t think you felt the same.”
You wanted to scream, you were so obvious how could he have not seen!?
“I thought you didn’t either,” you admitted, the words slipping out.
His head snapped toward you “You— what?”
You shook your head, a nervous laugh escaping you. “You’re always so… closed off. I didn’t want to ruin anything, we’re good friends.”
“I wasn’t trying to be…” He stopped, exhaling, shoulders dropping slightly. “I just didn’t know how to say it.”
“Neither did I,” you said, softer now. The space between you felt smaller all of a sudden. Your heart began to race, beating against your ribcage.
He stepped closer without thinking closing the space between you two and you didn’t step back. For a second just a second it felt like something might finally happen. His hand twitched at his side, like he was debating reaching for you.
Your breath hitched in your throat, waiting, hoping something happened, anything.
“Hey!” Sokka’s voice rang out suddenly. “We’re heading to the festival before all the good food’s gone are you two coming or— oh…”
He leaned against the doorway, eyes flicking between you and Zuko, a slow grin spreading across his face.
“…I see I interrupted something.”
“You did?!” Toph said from somewhere behind him, sounding far too pleased.
Your face burned as you stepped back, grabbing the nearest towel like it could shield you.
“We’re… we’re coming,” you said quickly.
Zuko cleared his throat, stepping away as well. “Yeah. We’ll be there.” Sokka’s grin widened. “No no take your time.”
“Stop it,” Katara hissed, dragging him away.
•••
The streets of Republic City were alive by the time you all arrived. Lanterns hung overhead in long, glowing strands, swaying gently with the evening breeze. Music drifted through the air flutes and drums blending with the hum of voices, vendors calling out from their stalls, the scent of roasted meats and sweet pastries curling through the crowd. Keila waved excitedly from a kite stand she stood near, already mid-conversation with a group of people.
“You made it!” she called.
“Told you I would,” you shot back, smiling.
The group lingered together for a moment but not for long.
“I’m getting food,” Sokka announced immediately, already disappearing into the crowd. You’d never understand how’s he’s always so hungry…
“I’ll go with him,” Katara said quickly. “He’ll spend all our money.” Aang naturally followed practically bouncing along.
Toph tilted her head slightly, a smirk tugging at her lips with a knowing look in her eye. “I’m gonna go win some money,” she said. “You two…” she gestured vaguely between you and Zuko, “…have fun” before you could respond, she was gone.
And just like that It was you two alone again.
Zuko stood beside you, shifting slightly, like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself now that there was no one else to hide behind. “they did that on purpose,” you said, glancing around.
“Yeah I figured ,” he muttered. There was a pause then, “…do you still wanna walk around?” he asked, a little hesitant but still holding a hopeful look in his eyes.
You looked up at him, meeting his gaze fully for the first time that night. His amber eyes flickered, reflecting the warm glow of the festival lights. He had always been handsome to you but tonight, it felt different. What once was a silly childhood crush had deepened into something heavier, undeniable. He wasn’t a boy anymore…he was a man. And a very fine looking one at that.
“…yeah,” you said softly. “I do.” His shoulders noticeably eased and a slight smile tugged at his lips.
You sat beside each other on a low wooden bench, the lantern resting between you along with small brushes and pots of ink. For a moment, neither of you touched anything then you picked up a brush, dipping it carefully into the ink.
“…what are you supposed to write?” you asked admiring the empty lantern.
“I think it’s whatever you want?” he said, though he didn’t sound entirely sure.
You smiled a little. “That’s not helpful.” A faint huff of amusement left him quiet, but real “…sorry.”
You began to paint anyway small, careful strokes, your focus narrowing as you worked. Every so often, you glanced over Zuko, meanwhile, looked like he was overthinking it.
Brush hovering, brow slightly furrowed. Like this one small thing carried too much weight.
“You’re thinking too hard,” you murmured.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
He glanced at you, a little defensive then paused when he caught the small smile on your lips, “…maybe a little.”
You laughed softly, returning to your work. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.”
“…I know,” he said, quieter this time. After a moment of thought, he finally started.
The two of you stood near the water’s edge, lantern cradled carefully between your hands. The surface of the canal shimmered with reflections dozens of glowing lights already drifting slowly away.
You hesitated then came up with an idea “…you should light it,” you said.
Zuko blinked turning to you. “Me?”
You nodded with a small smile. “Yeah.” For a second, he just looked at you. Then slowly, he stepped closer one hand steadying the lantern, the other lifting slightly.
A small flame sparked at his fingertips. Warm and controlled but gentle— well gentle as a flame can be. It flickered against the paper, catching the wick inside without burning it, casting a soft glow across both your faces.
For a moment, neither of you moved, the flame danced in his eyes as you watched.
“…ready?” he asked, voice low. You nodded, together you lowered it to the water. It drifted slow at first, then carried gently by the current, joining the others. You watched float in peaceful silence.
“what did you wish for?” you asked softly watching the beautiful lanterns float together side by side. He didn’t answer right away.
“if I tell you, it won’t come true,” he said. You smiled faintly. “That’s not how that works silly.”
“…still.” You glanced at him.
You gave him a faint teasing smile “Okay then…don’t tell me.”
But something about the way he looked at you steady, quiet, certain it made your chest tighten. Zuko had never looked at you like that before…no one’s ever had. It sent a rush of warmth through you, your stomach fluttering uncontrollably as your legs weakened beneath you, like your body had suddenly forgotten how to belong to you.
•••
The walk back felt different. It was quieter, but not in a bad way. Your shoulders brushed more often now but neither of you pulled away. At one point, his hand found yours he was hesitant at first. Like he was giving you time to pull away if you wanted but you didn’t. Your fingers curled around his gently and that was it.
By the time you reached your home, the night had settled deep and calm around you. You lingered by the door neither of you moving to open it.
“…I had a nice time,” you said, softer now.
“Yeah,” he replied. “Me too.”
There was a pause, not awkward just a thinking.
“thank you for dinner and… this.”
Your lips curved into a shy smile. “Of course, It was nothing” He nodded, like he had more to say but didn’t know how to start, so you did.
“…I didn’t make a wish,” you said softly, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. Zuko blinked, caught slightly off guard. “You didn’t?”
You shook your head, glancing down for a moment before forcing yourself to look back up at him.
“I wrote something instead.”
He stilled seeming as if was trying to guess what you wrote “…what did you write?”
Your heart began to pound again harder this time, louder, like it was trying to speak for you. “It’s kind of embarrassing,” you admitted with a small breath of a laugh.
“That’s okay,” he said quickly, stepping just a little closer. “You don’t have to—”
“I wrote your name.”
There was a small pause.
The words settled between you, heavier than anything you had said all night. Embarrassment began to engulf your entire body, you knew you shouldn’t have said anything.
Zuko froze, his expression unreadable for a split second. “…mine?” he asked quietly.
You nodded, heat rushing to your face. “I didn’t know how else to say it. I figured… if I couldn’t say it out loud, I could at least send it off and pretend it was enough.” You let out a nervous breath, shaking your head slightly. “It sounds stupid out loud I —”
“It’s not,” he cut in immediately.
You looked up meeting his warm ember eyes for the second time tonight. There was something different in his expression now something steady, something certain.
“…I didn’t make a wish either,” he said.
Your breath caught, your mind racing trying to guess his next words. “…you didn’t?”
He shook his head slowly, gaze never leaving yours. “…I wrote yours.”
Your chest tightened so fast it almost hurt. There was something to humorously relieving about this situation.
“You’re serious?” You let out a breathy laugh he lowered his head letting out a chuckle “I am.”
“I didn’t think you felt the same,” he admitted, quieter now. “So I didn’t say anything.”
“I didn’t think you did either” you said, almost breathless. “I do, in fact I always have I just didn’t know how to tell you” he said, firm.
His words made your heart beat faster, “Zuko…”
He stepped closer closing the distance this time without stopping. “I’ve felt this way for a long time,” he continued, voice low but steady. “I just… didn’t want to ruin what we had. I thought if I said something and you didn’t feel the same—”
“You wouldn’t have ruined a thing,” you whispered.
“I could have,” he insisted, softer now. “I didn’t want to lose you.” Your expression softened completely.
“You weren’t going to.” There was a small pause between you two then, gentler “…you won’t.”
Something in him eased at that. You could see it the tension leaving his shoulders, the way his breath steadied. For once, he looked sure. His hand lifted slowly, like he was still giving you time to stop him but you didn’t. His fingers brushed yours warm and grounding. You stepped closer, close enough that your breaths began to mix. Close enough that neither of you could pretend anymore, not like you wanted to.
“Can I—” he started quietly.
“Yes,” you eagerly answered. He didn’t hesitate this time. He leaned in lips hovering above your, you could fill the warmth radiating off of him, finally you’d get a taste of—
“SPIRITS ABOVE—”
You both jumped apart like you were caught doing something you shouldn’t have been doing. The door to your house was wide open , Sokka stumbled forward, eyes wide, hands thrown in the air. “FINALLY! Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for that?!”
Your eyes widened. “SOKKA?!”
“Don’t even act surprised,” Toph said, stepping out behind him, arms crossed and smirking. “We heard everything.”
“You were listening?!” you exclaimed, mortified.
“Obviously,” she shrugged.
“This was PRIVATE!” Zuko snapped, face burning.
“Oh please,” Toph replied. “You two were practically confessing to the whole street.”
“You weren’t exactly quiet,” Sokka added helpfully. “Oh my—” Katara rushed out, grabbing Sokka by the back of his tunic. “I told you not to interrupt!”
“You said don’t force it, you didn’t say don’t celebrate it there’s a difference” he argued.
“This is not celebrating, this is embarrassing them,” she shot back, dragging him away. From behind her Aang peeked out, offering you both a bright, apologetic smile. “We’re really happy for you though.”
You covered your face with your hands. “I’m never leaving my house again.”
“That’s fine,” Toph said casually, already walking off. “We’ll just come to you…again.”
“Please don’t,” you groaned.
“Also you’re welcome!” she called back.
“For what?!” you yelled beyond frustrated with the friend group.
“For saving you from another ten years of this!” Katara finally managed to drag Sokka back in, Aang following with one last cheerful wave.
And just like that they were gone…you hoped.
Silence settled again, thick and warm and different now. You slowly lowered your hands, still flustered.
“…well,” you muttered.
“…yeah,” Zuko replied, a hint of amusement slipping through.
A pause and then you both started laughing off the embarrassing situation. Soft, breathless, a little disbelieving because of course that’s how it happened. After a moment, the laughter faded but neither of you stepped away this time.
“Well let’s not waste the moment…where were we?” you asked quietly.
Zuko stepped closer again, eyes soft, voice lower now. “…right about here.” His hand lifted slowly, fingers brushing beneath your chin as he tilted your face up toward his. The touch was gentle but hesitant.
Your breath caught as he leaned in, the space between you finally closing after what felt like a lifetime.
Your lips met, soft at first. His lips were slightly chapped, but warm against yours, grounding in a way that made your chest tighten. For a second, neither of you moved, like you were both afraid the moment might disappear if you did too much.
Then he exhaled quietly against you, and everything eased. Your hand instinctively found the front of his tunic, fingers curling lightly into the fabric as you leaned just a little closer. His grip shifted, not tight, just steady like he needed to be sure you were really there. The kiss deepened, not rushed, not overwhelming but just right.
When you finally pulled back, it wasn’t far. Your foreheads nearly touched, breaths still uneven, the warmth of him lingering in a way that made it impossible to ignore.
And this time thankfully there was no one left to interrupt.
synopsis | in which your little sister, toph, is trying so hard to make you and firelord!zuko get along despite your obvious differences (for the sake of the gaang, of course, because toph has never had ulterior motives). and toph will do anything to get her way, absolutely anything.
content | angst? (it's so buzzy), little sister!toph, evil little shit!toph, simp!zuko on the low, brief bone manipulation, small miscommunication trope
word count | 2.6k
PART ONE
You and your sister lean lazily against one of the less crowded walls of the bustling great hall, the two of you "people-watching" as she funnily calls it, listening to other people's conversations through her sharp hearing and your stilled breathing. A few stare back at the both of you, whispering in your own little world, all inside jokes and complaints about the stuck-up air of the room.
Sometime in the midst of your joking and complaining, Toph had made some off-handed comment about a very particular man across the room, a close friend of hers, though Toph had never been very good at making friends. This one, you knew of, and of course he was here, it was his home you'd been invited to, his great hall which hosted the Fire Nation's very first party of the new scorching summer.
Toph's mentioning of him blanketed something else sinister, hid something teasing.
"You know, he's not so bad once you get to know him."
Your sister, Toph, had always proved rather convincing when it came to you---like everyone else, she had you wrapped around her strong little finger from the day she was born and all the days after. Her word was your Bible most times, you both put your trust in each other so completely, and there was rarely ever a doubt in your mind that Toph didn't know exactly what she was doing. But here, you couldn't help rolling your eyes.
She'd felt it somehow, your unimpressed expression, thumping at your shoulder quickly and laughing under her breath when you'd visibly winced.
"And he's attractive, too!"
You gave her a short look, brows raised in question. "Like you'd know, Toffee." She was always saying strange things like that, being able to feel when someone was interesting, or cute, or muscular. And you supposed that's what the Firelord Zuko was as you look around the room and allow your eyes to land on him.
Interesting in the way he spoke gruffly even when he was trying to be kind. The way he dragged men over to the group he was speaking to, just to have them agree with him on whatever he'd been arguing. Interesting in the way he let his hair fall over his scarred eye in public, not ashamed, you'd gathered, but not wanting to entertain the questions that came with it.
Cute in the way a bear was cute, something broad and grizzly, eyes squinting when he laughed and teased the Avatar and the Waterbending Master's brother.
Muscular like a sea of mountains, ripples of them across his body, pushing through the fabric of his formal garments. Muscular in the way his hands flexed out when he'd caught you staring at him, the way—oh, fuck, he'd caught you staring at him.
You swiftly turn back to a grinning Toph, her eyes shining white and mischievous. You thump her shoulder back, feeling the floor rumble beneath your feet, and it's not quite so obvious who's doing it but you think it's best not to find out. There are eyes boring into your side as you try and listen to the babbling woman in front of you—something about the food from tonight, or had she asked what food you wanted for tomorrow? You didn't know and you almost didn't really care, the way you'd spot him in your peripheral still glancing your way, only ever leaving his distraction when someone grabbed his shoulder or asked him something serious.
"I need some fresh air."
"Fresh?" Toph's face scrunches in a strange disgust, arms folding over her chest. Her smirk expands over her face as she stares right through you. "It's humid everywhere, you know. It's the Fire Nation—"
"Yes, yes, thank you for the tidbit."
With a kiss of her warm cheek, you hurry away from her before she can make some crude joke about the burning in your cheeks, and just before you escape into the main corridor, the Firelord catches your eye again.
And he is so disgustingly beautiful.
You scurry through the almost empty hallway, nothing but servants carrying piles of dirty bowls and cups and royal advisors gliding back to the hall to discuss important business with the still fresh lord, his duties seemingly never-ending. You slip and sneak behind one wall, and then another, left and right and left again, the passageways seemingly endless too. Once you let your mind settle, you finally register that you've stopped hearing the bustle that once filtered out of the great hall, met with the silent whirring on wind and dry humidity that made you sweat underneath your silky green dinner gown. All of sudden, you realize you're nowhere near the outdoor garden you were aiming for, and if you hadn't been so stubborn, you would've maybe admitted that you were lost. You make a few turns here and there that you think are leading you back in the direction of the hall, but you're not entirely sure, cursing yourself for being so equally, stubbornly distracted. Too absent-minded, Toph would often tease, never paying attention to your surroundings like you ought to.
You didn't care. You didn't need to pay attention like normal people did.
With a frustrated huff, cursing under your breath in a way that's still attempting to be lady-like, you slip off your nice shoes with a swift hand, letting your cold toes hit the stone floor.
You hum out, closing your eyes and listening for those busy vibrations you and Toph had been so attentive to before in the great hall. You mind wandered and search for her familiar cadence of footsteps against the bare ground—she had a habit of tapping her foot when she wanted to drown out noise, and you loved being the only one to hear it. You stepped carefully towards the tremor sounds in the earth, inching just closer to them to guide yourself back, feeling the jittery drunk conversation bouncing off of some walls in the distance. To your left, you'd concluded, not too many corridors way. You smile when you feel Katara's laugh somewhere far-off, mixing with the low rumble of Toph's chuckle. You wonder if she can hear your heartbeat, but the idea is quickly drowned out by another sound.
You tilt your head to pay attention to both, careful not to lose the guidance of your sister and her friend, but oh-so-curious as to who might be approaching.
Your smile drops and you resist opening your eyes for a moment. You know those heavy footsteps, that soft breathing reverberating in the air and in your ears.
You let your eyes flutter, a deep sigh leaving your lips without your permission.
And he smiles as he comes closer, something simple and boyish. "Good evening." He bows his head to you politely, and you return the favor, keeping your head down as he speaks. "Sorry to disturb you." You lift your head up when he takes a step closer, your hand reaching out instinctively. He stands still, as if at attention like a solider. "I'm Zuko."
You laugh and you can practically hear his heart flutter. "What are you doing, we know each other."
"Yes, I thought perhaps you'd forgotten." He adjusts his posture, his back and shoulders broadening. He's quick with his words, tumbling out of his lips like they've betrayed him. Still, he stands firm, head held high. "Since you'd failed to say hello."
Your breath hitched at that accusatory tone and you looked away to save face, knuckles crackling. "Yes, they sat us a way's away—"
"You failed to say hello the whole night."
He takes a careful step closer once again and this time you know well enough to step back, to keep this distance between you. And still, with your feet against the warm floor, you can feel his heartbeat quicken despite its normally calm pace. His hand looks like it might reach out for you but he knows well enough too.
"You know perfectly well why it seemed inappropriate."
Now, what's the story on you and the gruff Firelord?
Perhaps it starts when Toph had first introduced you to the jumbled and unlikely Avatar group a year ago, another hot summer that you can only remember when you dream.
Scorching days at Ember Island with your sister’s traumatized buddies from the war, sweat dripping from your body in vulgar sorts of ways when one distinct friend eyed you for longer than necessary. He had this way about him, something gorgeous and mesmerizing in a way that was unfair. When the summer heat got almost entirely unbearable, you'd all spent your time in the Water Tribe, basking in whatever cool air you could find. Your room had been just next to his, in a far wing of the palace, and you'd sneak away together when sleep refused to take you, or bundled up on the floor of your visiting chambers and tell stories upon stories. His voice like honey in your ears.
So, perhaps the starts instead during that same summer, in a now humid bedroom, with his hand up your skirt, and his lips against your jaw, and your name being mumbled repeatedly from his soft lips like a prayer. It's not quite so clear how you'd gotten to this point—whether it had been the drinks he'd snuck into room to rid you of the nighttime boredom, or the way your eyes couldn't stop flickering to his slender fingers brushing against yours—but sooner or later, you're on his lap, another hand in is your hair, and all decorum has been tossed right out of the window.
And the story ends that same evening, when there's a creak in the floorboard behind the bedroom door, and a quick glance between the two of you that says this can't possibly happen again. Sure, you hadn't been caught this time, but there was something messy about mixing things up with your baby sister's friends, something filthy about meeting in secret with the new Firelord in all his broken honor and his faltering prestige. He'd been worshiping you on that bedroom floor, but it could never happen twice, you two had reputations to uphold, kingdoms and communities to lead.
So, Zuko should know why you didn't speak to him at this party, why you hadn't spoken to him in almost exactly a year (of course, you both had been counting), and why you'd really only agreed to come in the first place because of Toph. Because she'd begged like she knew why you wouldn't want to, and you knew that seeing him from a safe distance was better than not seeing him at all.
But, you see, that's why he'd invited you too. It wouldn't be suspicious, because the whole group would come, and you both could speak because the whole group would be speaking, and he would promise not to let his hand drift towards your thigh like he wanted, he'd promise. And instead, you stayed on the complete other side of the hall the whole time, laughing at what other people were saying to entertain you, talking to everyone except for him, waltzing around in that dress and that color that drove him absolutely insane. He'd been so hopeful when he finally caught your eye across the table. When you'd left almost immediately after, avoiding his gaze—he had been almost absolutely sure that it was an invitation.
However, the way you were looking at him now said differently.
You looked around carefully. No one close by, no one peeking. Still, you wouldn't relax your shoulders just yet, lest the two of you grow too comfortable. You lowered your voice and stripped that unlikeable tone out of it. "You should get back to the hall and I can follow behind. Surely people are awaiting you—“
"I can excuse myself in my home."
"You can also speak to your guests properly in—”
“Is that what you are—a guest?”
“As opposed to what?” There’s a heaviness in your breath that hadn’t been there before, and you suddenly realize how close you’ve let him come, how near his breath and heart rest sound against the arch of your feet. “My lord.” Your scowl deepens as you flick your wrist and quicker than you’d meant it to happen, Zuko stumbles back with a hand on his chest. Your lips almost fix themselves to ask it he’s okay, but you’d hate to give him fuel.
He lets out a huff of a laugh, arms lunging to grab your hands. He’s trapped you, walking you back further and further away from the party, from Toph’s clever tone, from the clinking of lingering drinks and glasses—it alls starts to fade as you struggle against him.
“You’re not supposed to be able to control the human body,” he notes breathlessly, gaze traveling and skittering all over you, like he was imagining you use those same skills for all the wrong reasons, for nefarious purposes. “What was it you said, the calcium and phosphorus in my bones?”
“Who cares what I said, we shouldn’t be here—!”
Thump, thump, thumping upon the stone floor and your sister’s voice is whispering to you three halls down, asking where you’ve run off to. But she knows exactly where you are, exactly who you’re with, she’s always been so much better at that seismic sensing than you.
You find yourself wondering why she really begged you to come to this party, why she’d insisted on mentioning Zuko in every single conversation since you’d arrived.
Toph rarely played stupid, but when she did?
Something was up her sleeve.
You rip one arm from Zuko’s slowly loosening grip and slap your hand against his lips, and you swear you hear him groan against you, leaning closer into your touch. But you know silencing him won’t matter. Toph knows. You can practically feel her smile spreading across her lips like butter. And then you hear her laugh—that evil one she does, when she’s mocked you for just long enough, when she’s won in some game, when all goes her way in the easiest way possible. She’s laughing, but she stops walking—abruptly, so it seems, and—
The ground rumbles.
“Shit.”
“Hmm?”
Before you know it, you’re dragging Zuko away from Toph’s line of fire—she’s clumsy when she’s giggling—and just then, the ground cracks before you both, the dirt and rock from beneath emerging from the opening and creating a blockage between you and every other living being in the palace.
You and Zuko. Alone.
Toph would be dead by morning, you’d make sure of it.
“Aw,” Zuko coos against your palm before you slip it away. “You trapped us together, how sweet.”
You shove at his chest with no real weight, allowing him to drift just slightly closer. “Don’t get your hopes up, it was that brat—this is your home, you know, you’ll have to clean this all up.”
“No, I owe Toph, I think this’ll do.” His hand crept closer to your face, thumb running over your jaw as soft as kisses, as light as feathers, and you burned with the feeling. But you let him. Not just let him, you wanted him to, you'd hoped he'd touch you, just like this, the whole night, knowing that you shouldn't. He smiles sweetly, dipping his head to nose the crook of your neck, the bridge running just behind your ear and down so he could take in the scent he'd been waiting for---a whole year he'd been waiting. "Please. Tell me you've thought of me."
You let in a sharp breath, straightening your figure at even the thought of your answer. How were you supposed to lie?
"Even once would be enough."
His other hand dips to your waist, pulling your hips closer to his own in this new comfortable silence, smiling gently against your skin.
"I can show you how enough it would be."
guys I'm working on part two THIS VERY SECOND I SWEAR please don't hurt me
hope you guys enjoy and let it be nourishing to our bodies
I will never ever ever forgive the Broadway version of Hadestown for changing the lyric from "May the world we dream about be the one we live in now" (hopeful, invitation to action) to "To the world we dream about and the one we live in now" (passive, dismissive of the possibility of change). Complete tonal shift for the entire musical encapsulated in the alteration of two words.
People saying that Eloise only talks and talks and never actually does anything with her white, privileged feminism.
First of all, if Eloise were to actually do something, considering she’s already hated in such an exaggerated way, people would immediately start saying that she should keep quiet, know her place, and that she’s ruining her family’s name.
Because let’s remember that in season two, Eloise did try to do something: she tried to educate herself and to understand. And because of a certain redheaded writer, she couldn’t continue. Throughout that time, while she was trying to learn and understand, you all were complaining that she was ruining her family, that she was stupid, that she wasn’t doing things the right way. Then, when she tries to adapt without giving up her beliefs, you say she only talks and does nothing.
Yes, I will always be the first to admit that Eloise is, in fact, a white, privileged feminist. I’m never going to deny it because it’s true.
But how do you think feminism started? Do you really think it was poor working-class women who started it? No. It was white, privileged women in positions like Eloise’s who began the feminist movement, because poor and working-class women were busy working just to put food on the table. They didn’t have the time or the space to question the system.
Women in Eloise’s position were the first to question things, to write, and to fight. But they didn’t start as fully formed revolutionaries: they started like Eloise, as misunderstood women, pushed aside, mocked, because questioning a woman’s role was something that brought punishment and ridicule.
Which brings us to the obvious: Eloise is in a social position where, if she were to say, do, or even think something radical and it became public, it wouldn’t just affect her. It wouldn’t only be a problem for Eloise, but also for her family. She has three siblings who are not yet married. Let’s say Benedict wouldn’t be as affected as Hyacinth and Gregory, but the mere fact that Eloise is known to have “radical” ideas would close doors for Hyacinth and Gregory: it would limit their chances of good marriages, invitations to balls, and access to important social circles. So no, Eloise can’t do much in her position without putting her family at risk. And isn’t that exactly what people keep accusing her of—not caring about her family’s reputation?
It’s the same reason why, for example, Benedict can’t just marry Sophie without consequences: the family’s reputation would suffer, and the “purity” and dignity of the Bridgerton family would be seen as compromised. That would make Eloise’s, Hyacinth’s, and Gregory’s situation even worse—especially for the girls—because let’s remember that, at that time, the main way for a woman to survive socially and economically was through a good marriage. Gregory could at least hope for a respectable job in the future, but that wasn’t an option for Eloise and Hyacinth.
And to anyone who says that Penelope “did something,” I swear I want to smack them on the head. First of all, let’s remember that Penelope ran a gossip sheet, not a radical political movement. Second, she did it in complete anonymity. Her entire arc is about how she feels more seen when she’s anonymous and how no one can ever find out—there’s a reason she hid it from Colin before marrying him. So no, Penelope didn’t really “do” anything publicly. Lady Whistledown did. Yes, Penelope was behind LW, but when you don’t put your face to it, it’s not the same thing.
And even putting aside the fact that Penelope dragged half of the Ton, including the queen—if we don’t focus on that part—what Penelope did wasn’t actually dangerous in a political sense. She mostly reported gossip that happened in public places (not always, and she didn’t always verify it, but let’s not get into that now). She wasn’t promoting radical ideas or going against the system itself. Penelope wasn’t at risk of being considered a traitor or a dangerous figure for having radical beliefs. Eloise was.
So yes: talking, complaining, and voicing her opinions was pretty much the only thing Eloise could safely do without putting herself and her family in danger. Because you all love to pull the “it was historically accurate” card to defend Anthony, Benedict, Colin, or Penelope, but then you apply a very modern mindset when judging Eloise. That’s hypocritical. Why not judge all the characters by the same standard?
On top of that, people talk about how Hyacinth “called out” Eloise because Eloise was supposedly mean and inconsiderate to her sister. Sure, Eloise shouldn’t have been rude or harsh with her sister—that wasn’t fair. But do you know what else isn’t fair? Demanding that Eloise always understand and respect other women and their choices, while never offering her the same understanding in return.
And honestly, I understand Eloise. She’s incredibly frustrated. Her mother supposedly understood that she shouldn’t pressure her, promised to go at Eloise’s pace and to accept her. Then, one season later, she tells her it’s not enough to just form friendships with women and parades her in front of men, forcing her to smile and flirt, as if Violet were showing off livestock. And if Eloise doesn’t want to be paraded around like cattle, then she’s forced to spend time with her 14-year-old sister and attend etiquette lessons she already went through when she was younger—and that she has been very vocal about hating—while also having to listen to Hyacinth chatter endlessly about the very topic Eloise despises and wants to avoid: marriage. And then she gets attacked by her sister for not celebrating her desire to marry and become the “proper lady” that high society demands Eloise herself to be.
Yes, Eloise could have chosen a better attitude at times. But people also weren’t giving her any space not to be frustrated. And Hyacinth is also behaving in a very childish, entitled way—like when she got mad at Eloise for taking her out of a ball she was literally too young to attend.
And I get Hyacinth too. She’s frustrated and lonely: all her older siblings are married, her playmate Gregory is away at school, and the only sister she has left doesn’t care about the same things she does. So she takes that frustration out on Eloise. But why is Hyacinth allowed to dump her frustration onto Eloise and be cruel to her, while Eloise is expected to endure it and still be endlessly considerate?
Why is it always Eloise who has to be understanding and empathetic toward everyone else, while no one extends her the same grace? She’s expected to accept everyone’s cruel words, but the moment she talks back, she’s labeled selfish, cruel, and childish. At this point, it feels less like genuine criticism and more like people just wanting an excuse to hate her.
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