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astarionslittlejuicebox · 1 year ago

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On Borrowed Time

Author: @astarionslittlejuicebox

Imagine: While the party traverses the Underdark, a fight takes an unexpected turn as Y/N falls during combat. How does the party react and feel when they realize their favorite traveling companion’s heart stops?

Pairing: Astarion x F!Drow!Reader

Trigger warnings: Fluff, minor spoilers, suggestive themes, partying, language, mentions of death, mentions of fighting, blood, potentially graphic content

Word Count: 2280

Side Notes: Y/N = your name

The day had started off just fine as the entire party had been fortunate enough to navigate through the Underdark’s chaos and confusing tunnels just fine with the help of my knowledge from growing up in the Underdark. We had encountered a few exploding spores and some hook horrors, but the party was able to quickly handle all of the challenges. The party had done fairly well up until they were tasked to combat the duergar in the abandoned city by the myconid leader. Y/N, who had taken some damage during the battle with the hook horrors, told everyone they’d be fine after a short rest.

Perhaps the chaos that ensued next could be blamed on too many people: Astarion was a bit trigger-happy, Karlach’s allergies made her sneeze at the most inopportune moment, Shadowheart was still positioning herself, and Y/N had (unknowingly) picked the wrong spot to be in. The second Astarion’s arrow released the same time Karlach’s sneeze alerted the duergar and the undead servants they had with them. As luck would have it, Y/N was the first face they saw, and the first person they targeted. Poor Y/N couldn’t get her bearings fast enough before they surrounded her. The rest of the party tried their best to get the attention off of their favorite wizard, but their attempts were futile as the duergar and undead laid attack after brutal attack. The duergar’s war hammers laid blow after merciless blow into the drow as the dead's claws ripped and tore at the young dark elf’s flesh. Astarion felt his heart stop as she called out his name before another relentless claw struck the drow and her body crumbled to the ground. While Astarion couldn’t see the blood, he could smell the sweet metallic aroma as it began to quickly fill the air. The vampire spawn would never admit it aloud, but the thought of Y/N not smiling at him or teasing him made Astarion feel a bit panicked as he barked at Shadowheart to get to the drow as he released another arrow into the eye of duergar who was posed to strike the fallen drow.

“I’ve got the duergar!�� Karlach yelled before she dashed towards the group of enemies, and Shadowheart moved to try and get Y/N some healing.

“Astarion, we have to get her out of there! If I heal her now, they’re just going to keep hitting her.” Shadowheart’s voice sounded as distressed as the group felt with their favorite party member down.

“I’m working on it.” Astarion growled back as Karlach slashed and killed two of the three duergar, clearing a path for Astarion to be able to reach Y/N. However, the group had not anticipated one of the undead deciding against attacking the fire-engulfed barbarian and opting for landing the killing blow to their drow instead. For a moment, the world moved in slow motion for the party as Karlach took a blow to the flank by the last remaining duergar and Astarion hesitated as his hearing had confirmed one of his worst fears: Y/N’s heart wasn’t rhythmically beating within her rib cage. The edges of Astarion’s vision turned red as he ran to slash at the undead who ended her life, but both of his attacks missed as tears blurred his vision. The vampire spawn cursed as frustration grew in his mind. Why had they not been more careful? The high elf thought to himself.

Thankfully, the other two party members were not as distracted as Astarion was at the moment because the flaming tiefling single-handedly finished the last duergar and the two undead servants, and Shadowheart pulled out her scroll of Revivify.

“Heads up, Astarion, she’s going to need you.” Shadowheart said as bright yellow light engulfed the drow’s body before Y/N suddenly appeared next to him, gasping for air and about to fall over. Astarion’s reflexes were faster as he caught her in his arms. He quickly gave her a look over, but the world seemed to stop when her ruby eyes met his gaze.

“Judging…” She started softly. “…by the look on your face…” The drow took another pained breath. “…and how I feel…” A grimace had graced the drow’s face before she could finish her sentence.

“Hush now, darling. We can talk more once we are at camp.” Astarion’s reassuring voice came out ever-so-quietly. “Do you think you can walk?” He asked as Karlach and Shadowheart approached the pair.

“You gave us quite the scare there, Y/N.” Karlach’s voice was not its usually chipper tone. “I’d offer to carry you, but I’m afraid it would hurt worse than the duergar.” This comment brought a small smile to the drow’s face.

“I should be able to do so.” Y/N shuffled on her feet, but her knees gave out. Astarion was quick to support her weight.

“Hasa-Evo.” Shadowheart said as she laid a hand on the drow’s bloody arm. Another rush of bright light surrounded the dark elf as some of the wounds magically closed. Some color had returned to the drow’s face as she straightened herself to stand on her own two feet. She gave the cleric a small smile.

“Thank you. I should be able to make it to camp now.” Even though the drow had appeared better, Astarion was still hesitant to remove his hand from her back or very far from reaching her. Turns out his instincts were right as the drow went to take a step and stumbled, and Astarion wrapped her in his embrace.

“I shall assist you, my dear. I’d rather not see you get any more injuries.” Astarion’s low voice made Y/N look him in the eyes before she whispered to him.

“Careful, Astarion, people might start to think you actually care about me.” Unbeknownst to Y/N, Astarion’s keen ears picked up the sound as her heart raced in her chest as she held his intense gaze. An unfamiliar emotion to Astarion had taken hold in the ruby eyes staring at him, but he shifted her in his arms to support her.

“Let’s get you to camp.” Shadowheart said as she looked between the two elves then shared a knowing look with Karlach as the party set their course for camp.

The air at camp hung heavy with nothing but the sounds of the Underdark that night as Y/N tended to her wounds in her tent. Astarion, who had helped her to her tent, had retreated to his tent shortly afterward and had not come out since. This had left the rest of the party to sit quietly as Shadowheart and Karlach recalled the events for those fortunate enough to not be present during the combat. Everyone worried about their drow companion, but some people were worried about how their vampire spawn companion was coping with today’s events. Astarion thought he was smart and cunning—that no one could tell he was falling for their drow companion; however, Shadowheart and Karlach saw how he practically shattered when Y/N fell to the ground. As much as the traveling party wanted to intervene, they knew that Y/N and Astarion would have to deal with the situation themselves.

Y/N did not leave her tent for most of the night, nor did many of her traveling companions bother her. Shadowheart had stopped by with a plate of warm food to check on how the drow’s wounds were doing. Although the cleric didn’t stay long, Y/N was grateful that they had stopped by, but the drow was worried about another one of her companions: Astarion. She just couldn’t shake the image of his heartbroken face when she came too, and it broke her heart. The wizard had high hopes that Astarion would come to see her tonight for his nightly taste, and she hoped to talk to him then about the whole situation. She cared deeply for the elf, but she had no idea how he felt about her. Only time would tell if he was coming to see her, so Y/N grabbed her newest novel and started reading.

The rest of the evening passed by quietly and uneventfully for the entire camp. After everyone had gone to bed for the night, Astarion emerged from his tent. The vampire spawn had been trying to distract himself from the entire situation and now was his time to emerge to a quiet camp, where no one could ask him any questions about how he felt regarding the day’s events. He did, however, want to check on his favorite traveling companion. As he neared Y/N’s tent though, he noticed the lights of her lanterns still flickering in her tent. Astarion ever-so-slightly lifted the corner of her tent cover and found his drow companion asleep with a book still in her hand as though she fell asleep while reading it. A small smile found its place on Astarion’s lips at the sight of her.

Could it be that she was trying to stay awake for me? He thought to himself, but movement from inside the tent caught his attention. Y/N’s limbs were jerking as if she was having a bad dream, and Astarion was about to take his leave when she jerked awake with panic evident on her face as she clutched her chest.

“No!” She yelled before she opened her eyes and looked around frantically as if she expected a fight to be happening. Instead, she found the white-haired vampire at her tent flap. Astarion could see as the drow’s muscles physically relaxed, but he could hear how fast the organ in her chest was moving the blood in her veins. “Oh, Astarion, you scared me.” Judging by the look on the high elf’s face, he had been standing there long enough to know that was a lie. “Did you come to feed on me?”

“Yes, but I—“ Astarion’s gaze shifted slightly and he looked into the drow’s eyes. “—I also wanted to check on you and make sure that you were okay.” His words were spoken so softly that the drow’s ears almost missed the last half of his sentence.

“I must’ve given you quite the scare today.” Y/N’s voice sounded remorseful, which made Astarion stare at her in disbelief. “I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve known they would go for that spot; I could’ve gone to the ledge—“ The pale elf’s lips on hers stopped the rambling coming from Y/N. A gentle hand moved some hair out of her face when he pulled back.

“You couldn’t have known what was going to happen today.” His words were soft and reassuring as he stared intensely into her eyes. “The important thing is that you are still here. We still have to find the Grymforge and kill Nere, but you’re still here to do that. I would have a hard time finding another pet as dear as you.” Astarion watched Y/N’s worry melt off her face as a look of admiration settled on her face, and a small smile graced her lips.

“You’re right. I am still here.” Her eyes danced as they looked over Astarion’s face. “So are you. We’ve still got a lot of work ahead of us too, but I—“ The drow’s eyes paused their search as they landed on his lips before she looked back into his eyes. “—I am glad to have you by my side.” The vampire spawn felt his cheeks grow warm under her intense gaze.

“I am glad to be here. Almost dying with you beats living with Cazador any day.” A lighthearted chuckle erupted from the drow and made the high elf smile. He was growing quite fond of the sound of her laughter.

“I’m sure it does.” She smiled at him. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

“Of course. I had to make sure my pet was faring okay.” Astarion smiled back at her as he gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. “I shall let you rest tonight, my dearest. But do me a favor? Try to keep your blood inside your body; it is harder to feed when it is outside where it belongs.” The ruby eyes of his drow companion rolled in their socket at his comment, but he was truly glad that she was okay. “I shall let you sleep tonight. You’ll need all your strength for tomorrow.” He went to stand up, but the drow gently grabbed his hand.

“Can you…stay with me tonight?” She gingerly asked. “If you’re comfortable staying. I don’t want to—“

“How sweet. Of course I’ll stay with you, pet.” The smile the vampire spawn gave her made her heart do a somersault in her chest. Neither of them wanted to admit how nice it was to be in the presence of the other, but if how fast Y/N fell asleep told Astarion anything—it was that he himself was in serious trouble. He had planned to stay with her long enough for her to fall asleep, but he changed his mind the moment she snuggled into his side. Red eyes studied the sleeping drow with wariness. Could it be that the vampire’s plan to seduce the drow was working? He thought to himself. It certainly appears so, then why doesn’t he just leave? He was only going to stay till she was asleep, but here she is cuddled into his side and all he feels is…peace…. Perhaps, while he was free of Cazador, he could enjoy the time he has with her. After all, isn’t everyone on borrowed time? With his mind made up, Astarion made himself comfortable and relished in the warmth that the woman next to him brought him—both in body heat and to his heart.

#astarion imagine #astarion x reader #baldursgate3 #astarion fluff #baldursgate3imagine

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birgittesilverbae · 1 year ago

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thinking about babea au and beatrice taking ava home to mary’s apartment the first time for a movie night. standing in the grocery store with mary live-texting the ensuing Gay Overplanning to shannon

(these, softer days. shannon still trying hard to reconnect, fighting the scar tissue on her back as she moves through her bō forms and bea soft-stepping into the secluded courtyard to make light, but expressionless suggestions. bea having read about therapeutic matial arts, learning to move around injuries, the half-charred bones in shannon’s back, the times she has to take her crutches back out of the closet. shannon crying privately in the bathroom mirror when she finds two old stickers from the star wars books she found for bea in a discount store years and years ago. a sticker of darth vader on one crutch and c3po on the other. bea’s queer thinking and the articles she has downloaded on disability in sci-fi, how she’ll get cross about it if you press)

(they’re learning to love each other again)

bea in the snack aisle doing the social equivalent of quantum mathematics trying to guess what snacks ava wants. nothing with apple. does she prefer savoury or sweet or bitter or-

mary sending bea off into the attached clothing section with a €10 note to get her new socks while mary pays for €50 worth of sugar, hoping bea will be too distracted to do the easy math & guess what it costs. she could use the ocs card but she doesn’t. wants to give this to bea. like she paid for the takeout on her first at-home visit with lilith. because this is her kid on a tragic technicality.

picking ava up in one of the ocs vans and bea kind of shivering with anticipation on the way, mary swatting her with the sleeve of her hoodie while they idle in traffic like ‘cheer up. we’re not in your stupid emily dickinson poem.’

bea obligingly saying, ‘because i could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me. the carriage held but just ourselves, and immortality.’

‘thanks, nerd.’

but it calms her, and she’s all smiles when they collect ava, an older ocs sister leaning in and tracing a cross onto bea’s forehead as she stands waiting with ava in the foyer. it’s not uncomfortable, just the blessing you give to someone much younger. for a nun it’s like saying ‘good luck.’

at home with the mound of snacks and ava laughing at it all, but summoning bea down to kiss her cheek. ‘thanks bea. for the thought.’

(ava who has so seldom been thought of in her life)

‘what are we watching?’

‘oh, whatever you want. i have most blockbusters from the last 38 years.’

‘oddly specific but okay.’

bea blushing like, ‘i was going year-by-year and then it was time for morning drills.’

they watch jurassic park because ava loves dinosaurs, and bea’s read her the novels, and of course bea’s like, ‘did you know that one day before the release of this film scientists actually published a paper about a weevil preserved in resin, whose remains offered up what researchers believed were the oldest strands of DNA ever recovered? amber can preserve intracellular structures.’

‘they really did visit laboratories when they designed some of these sets.’

‘it’s an interesting commentary on how our best human ventures can be corrupted by imagination. if we recreated dinasaurs they would look different. usually fossilisation destroys DNA though.’

‘the idea that they collected so much data on species from amber so quickly is quite outlandish.’

bea falling asleep towards the end of the movie because she’s been up since dawn. little bruise blooming on her chin from a hook kick demonstrated a little too enthusiastically by one of the trainees. mary coming in to see ava not watching the last few scenes, just watching bea in the low light, half-draped in a quilt, wearing her oversize green hoodie and pyjama bottoms.

and I'm like "No! That's the thing I'm SENSITIVE ABOUT!"

#ask #'anon'#babea au #warrior nun #my fried rice brain taking repeated direct hits #ava x beatrice #avatrice

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a-really-good-lawyer-abandoned · 1 year ago

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Something I never see people talk about (which could be because I simply haven't come across it) is how rough forming a new hyperfixation can be, especially a core hyperfixation.

I've loved Star Trek for years. But for whatever reason, it wasn't until a couple years ago that something in my brain *clicked* and it became a new core hyperfixation.

In some ways it was better than past such hyperfixations because there is so much Star Trek out there to consume, between shows and films and then the fandom content because this fandom has been alive and well for over 50 years, gave birth to modern fandom.

But that didn't change the fact that, for the ensuing six months, it consumed my life - and not in the fun, tongue-in-cheek way we say 'this fandom consumes my life', like semi-hyperbole.

When I say it consumed my life, I mean it was near non-stop hyperfocus for months.

My apartment was constantly a mess, same as my sense of time. My sleep schedule was constantly erratic. I was often dehydrated, had frequent headaches, often found myself shaking from all the adrenaline surges. I dropped fifteen pounds almost without noticing (weight I shouldn't have dropped).

I was always drained, always disoriented, always distracted. It didn't feel good. Really, it felt distinctly bad, and I felt completely out of control to make it stop. If I made myself ignore the media and fic and fan art and all of that, it just meant I sank into myself, got lost in my head for hours on end.

After the first two months it began to gradually, slowly ease up, and when I hit around six months it stopped feeling like I was being dragged along and started to feel the way I want when it comes to hyperfixations - it was fun, mood-boosting. Engaging with it improved my mental health, instead of causing it, along with my physical health, to deteriorate.

That was probably the worst 'epsiode' I've had, but I've had them several times. The one when I developed the Daredevil hyperfixation thankfully lasted only two months, same as when it was FMA:B and BBC Merlin, and...three months, I think, for Star Wars? The one that got closest was Smallville, my first fandom hyperfixation, though I imagine some of that had to do with it coming out when I first had regular internet access. That one was maybe four or five months, and was dragged out by the fact that I was in high school so I was 'forced' away from it all by the anxiety of college applications and AP exams and all that fun stuff.

I love having these things. They've been good for me, for my emotional welfare - have helped me survive so much. I never regret that initial rough aspect, not that I've ever had the power to do things differently.

But it is rough, and one of the aspects of neurodivergence I've had the most trouble explaining to neurotypical people. They see it as simple obsession or addiction, something that I fell into and need to take steps to pull myself out of, rather than something that my brain just does at the drop of a hat and which won't stop until I go through that process. Trying not to, trying to mitigate it, just ends up dragging that process out. It can't be reduced or bypassed. It's just part of how my brain works.

And people trying to interfere with that, to 'fix' that by making me pay attention to other things, giving me tasks, whatever it may be - it does nothing to change it. If anything, it makes the whole thing much more destabalizing, in ways that can have major consequences for my state of mind, and I've had the experiences to prove it.

I'm not really sure where I'm going with this, but I just...wanted to put it out there. I think there can be shame attached to this reality - shame I've felt, and which I've come to recognize originates from neurotypical social expectations and a lack of understanding.

If this is something you've dealt with and have been shamed for, I hope this post can give you some comfort. It isn't a failing, isn't deviant, isn't indulgent. It just is, and you aren't bad or broken or weak because of it.

#neurodivergent #adhd #asd #hyperfixations #riker.talks #fandom

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tardistimeladyyeah · 4 months ago

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I will try to make this my last post about politics but no promises (I'm anxious and a political science student).

(P.S. If you don't read this whole long post, read the last chunk).

This will make sense at the end of this post, but it deserves to go up here: We can't help people overseas if we're burning, and we're holding a match over a vat of gasoline. The voters are holding the match, the reelection of Trump is the match, and the United States is the gasoline. The ensuing flame is the Civil War they want so badly. We will have nobody to blame but ourselves if we drop that match.

Is there a genocide in Palestine? Yes. Does the United States need to separate themselves from Israel until they stop and align ourselves with stopping it? Yes. Is it worth destroying our lives at home over just because you couldn't vote for Biden? No (LET ME EXPLAIN BEFORE YOU LOSE YOUR MIND).

People protesting against the genocide will not be heard if Trump is reelected. Have you heard of Project 2025? Essentially, it is the plan to dismantle the current system that we have in the United States. This is not a good thing because it was created by the Hertiage Foundation, a far-right group that supports Donald Trump and his ambition to become a dictator (he is connected to 2025. He is lying when he says he's not connected).

What would a second Trump presidency mean? It will take away rights that most Americans have enjoyed for decades (and centuries if you're a white man). You would not be able protest against the genocide because the insurrection act may be invoked, which would deploy the military to quash protests. Trump may force social media companies to promote far-right views (meaning no more talking about Palestine and helping people by providing information) (Source: ACLU link below). A second Trump presidency would bring a lot of other things listed on both Project 2025 AND Agenda 47 (basically diet Project 2025). It would make abortion difficult to access NATIONWIDE (ban mifepristone and Plan B (the morning after pill) via the Comstock Act, it would ban birth control, it would disband federal agencies such as NOAA (and the NWS by proxy) and the Department of Education (and severely restrict other agencies), put loyalists into integral positions, fire 150,000 federal employees (and probably more), and so much more involving the LGBTQ+ community and immigrants, among other things.

Yes, you should be upset about Palestine. Yes, you should be advocating against the genocide. HOWEVER, THAT DOES NOT MAKE CALLING THE ELECTION A DISTRACTION OR MINIMIZING IT OKAY.

This election has the capability of determining the next steps forward for this country. Yes, both options aren't very appealing, but it's worth noting that, as much as you might not want to admit it, Biden has done good things. Those don't overpower helping fund a genocide, but it's also worth noting that Congress has the power of the purse (power to spend money) and the president doesn't. Do they approve the proposal? Yes. Did Biden threaten to stop funding if Israel continued? Yes. I believe he hasn't because he's worried about losing support (this election has serious consequences and I think he knows that) from people who are only voting for him because he's not Trump (a wannabe Hitler) and he doesn't have that kind of power. Executive orders can only go so far and can be thrown out by a judge in minutes.

So, what am I trying to say here? This election has consequences. Project 2025 is real and the Supreme Court gave Trump the okay to start implementing the more egregious parts of it under the guise of "official acts." We may not even know what those "official acts" will be. They likely involve nukes everywhere, including Palestine. Remember when Nikki Haley wrote something to the effect of "kill them all" on a missile being sent to Israel (or something)? Trump will do that. He will blow that entire continent up and say he stopped the tension in the middle east when really all he did was kill a bunch of people. Sure, you can say the same about Biden because of weapons and resources sent to Israel on his approval. But, he won't use America's nukes to do that. In fact, he wants to negotiate the end of the war.

If your single issue is Palestine, you shouldn't vote for a third party. You shouldn't vote for Trump. You should vote for Biden because he'll preserve your right to free speech and non violent protest. Trump won't.

Call him Genocide Joe or whatever all you want. Just know that Trump is worse and you're letting him win if you're in a swing state and vote third party. That's how he won in 2016. Enough people voted for Jill Stein in swing states to give Trump an electoral college victory. Look at the numbers (all of which came from Ballotpedia, a great resource).

Michigan gave their electoral college votes to Trump, but only by 0.2%. Who got more votes that, if they voted for Clinton, would've flipped the state for her? The other votes (including Jill Stein). Those votes were 5.2%, which may have flipped the state blue (Source: https://ballotpedia.org/Presidential_battleground_states,_2016) .

Wisconsin gave their votes to Trump in 2016, with 47.2% of voters voting for him, 46.5% voting for Clinton. How many people voted for third parties? 6.3%. Once again, enough votes to flip the state for Clinton if voters decided to go with her instead. (Source: https://ballotpedia.org/Presidential_battleground_states,_2016)

Pennsylvania gave their votes to Trump in 2016, with 48.6% voting for him and 47.9% voting for Clinton. How many people voted third party? 3.6%. It was close, but it wouldn't have been if people didn't vote third party. (Source: https://ballotpedia.org/Presidential_battleground_states,_2016)

I'm not against third parties, HOWEVER, our government is structured as a two party system and now is not the time to test a three party system out when we're on the brink of fascism. Don't not vote either. Not voting is just as bad in this situation. In fact, not voting (unless you literally can't) is not good. I don't care if you don't think your vote won't matter. It does. Look back at the 2016 swing state numbers. It makes a massive difference.

This is not a time to tell people not to vote or to vote third party. This is a time to say that there will never be a perfect candidate and that you have to make sacrifices on policy to preserve or create new policy that is beneficial. This is a time to defeat fascism by coming together and voting for the lesser of two evils. Everyone in the United States will lose rights, some more than others. But, Project 2025 will impact everybody, especially those fighting for Palestine. Don't believe Republicans when they say they're stepping away from it. They're not. If they're voted in, they will do it. Remember, they said the same thing about Roe and look at what they did! Heck, I'm writing this from a state where abortion is illegal, surrounded by other states where abortion is illegal. It's already a crisis and it will continue to be one until we fix things at the federal level because it will stay illegal until a state question goes through (I often say that good things only happen where I live because of state questions and that is unfortunately true).

We can't help people overseas if we're burning, and we're holding a match over a vat of gasoline. The reelection of Trump is the match and the United States is the gasoline. The ensuing flame is the Civil War they want. We will have nobody to blame but ourselves.

All I can do is hope that this got to some people and made you change your mind. But know that they'll keep rebranding 2025 if they lose. You have to vote consistently against Republican presidential administration until they abandon the idea or until it blows up in their faces. Call me a Biden apologist all you want, I don't care. I'm on your side, but you don't realize how bad another Trump presidency would be. You wouldn't be able to advocate for causes like Palestine anymore. You may have to join the military. You may have to detransition. You may have to stop doing a lot of things that you took for granted if Trump wins again. Sure, some of us survived the first one, but a lot of us didn't and significantly more of us won't the second time around (oh, also, he wants to be President forever. They're going to throw out term limits if they try hard enough. They're going to fudge voting results to make elections look like something out of Russia). Nobody wants this (save for the people who advocate for it and support it) and I don't think you do, either.

Look at the breakdowns of Project 2025. If you don't want that, don't be complacent. Don't feel defeated (even though it's hard sometimes. Trust me, my state would vote for Trump even if he was a bag of rocks and it's hard to not feel an impending sense of doom until my passport gets here). Register to vote at vote.org and check your registration status if you think you're registered.

Don't vote against your own interests this election cycle. You might not get to vote for your interests ever again if the wrong person wins.

Some more important links:

https://www.vote.org/

https://www.vox.com/politics/360318/project-2025-trump-policies-abortion-divorce

https://www-bbc-com.cdn.ampproject.org/v/s/www.bbc.com/news/articles/c977njnvq2do.amp?amp_gsa=1&amp_js_v=a9&usqp=mq331AQIUAKwASCAAgM%3D#amp_tf=From%20%251%24s&aoh=17212721431126&csi=1&referrer=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.google.com&ampshare=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.bbc.com%2Fnews%2Farticles%2Fc977njnvq2do

https://www.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2024/07/noaa-project-2025-weather/678987/

Some of these articles may mention Republicans stepping back from these views. DON'T. BELIEVE. THEM. Take it from me, a person who lives in a Republican trifecta (A.K.A. one of Dante's circles of hell. I haven't decided which one, yet). Republicans lie. They lie and lie and lie so much I'm shocked their noses haven't suffocated most of the state.

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sailoryooons · 4 months ago

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Alright mf buckle in because I am going to scribble all my little thoughts and comments here while I read this bitch live okay. I apologize in advance for all my ranting and screaming but who cares that's part of the fun.

Again I feel the need to mention this fucking banner is my favorite thing because the color combos are so insanely chefs kiss. Ugh I love teal and orange!!!!!!

Spoilers under the cut

All you do is sell fruit. Why are you fighting for your life every week? IF THAT AIN'T MY MF LIFE LMFAO. This is still the most relatable thing I've ever read because truly why are we all suffering in like...... very basic jobs like a bitch is metaphorically trying to sell fruit.

Just like always. One, three, or five fingers for tangerines. Never two, never four, and never any other fruits. 1) I would get distracted b the fingers lmfao 2) I'm like WHAT DO THE NUMBERS MEAN? IS IT ODDS FOR A REASON? OR IS HE JUST QUIRKY?

Can I just say I'm obsessed with the dynamic of like Yoongi who is sort of cranky and gritty and just answers in noises and reader who is nice and talks to him and tries to get him to respond? I love that little contrast between them, especially because it actually works and wears him down.

sdkfmsodfgijs tired of eating plantanos is so fucking real odigjdoigjdfroigj

"Then eat something else" LMFAO MOTHERFUCKER I GUESS I FUCKING WILL DGIODOGDJRFOISEJFOSIEJFOIJ

You stare, roaming along his arms before meeting his eyes—almost. “Find someone else to buy my tangerines.” Lmfao this is so girlboss I love her bye

Literally when I tell you the tension between them fixing her cart is so !!!!!!!! Like why are they in total silence and yet it's like VERY charged and sdfikfojgdigrjoi that's how you know something is well written I'm just like broooooooooooo I'm lowkey kicking my feet over here.

I really love that like - Yoongi is very consistent. From the jump he's kind of .... not rude exactly but also a little bit sharp and even though you get the feeling he has a soft spot for her like fixing her cart and chatting etc. he's still very much a little asshole and I just really adore that consistency/commitment to his personality in this. Okay I will get off my soapbox.

I too, would be lured in by a noodle shop.

I'm going to be so fr this 👇 was me when she realized he was Dragon

Can I just say how well the moments of chaos are captured? Like the pacing and the cadence to the writing while the fight is ensuing with the Cranes above the noodle shop is so well done you can sort of feel the fractured rhythm of the fight and how confusing/fast it all happens.

LMFAO SHE STABBED THAT MAN IN THE NECK SOEIFJSORIGJSFORI. Look at my baby, off to war. I'm so proud of her.

Again, Yoongi consistency. She just killed someone for him and his first response is to yell at her for saying his name too loudly lmfao.

God. The way you write chaos and a scene with a lot of movement and panic is so good. It captures the frantic energy SO well. The running/chase scene is so high tension and you can feel reader's panic bleeding through.

HOLY SHIT I GASPED WHEN YOONGI PULLED THE TRIGGER I DIDN'T THINK HE WOULD DO IT LMFAO JSGOFISDJGOISJFSOIEFJ

"You'll live. Drive." is crAZY LMFAOOOOO

Dead ass thought his ass was about to miss that train jump jesus christ.

SOFJDOFIGJ NOT EXPECTING THE LAIR THAT IS SO FUNNY BYE

WHO IS YOONGI LMFAO I'M SO ????????????? WHAT IS THIS MAN UP TO AND OSIRGJDOFIGJIJ I have so many question. I'm gonna kill you. This was so utterly action-packed and fun to read and high stakes and AHHHHH. You've knocked it out of the park you fucking genius. I hate you lmfao.

minted (explicit) | myg

title: minted (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street cart vendor!reader rating/genre: explicit (18+) ; angst , suspense , smut ; haegeum au , gang au summary: all you do is wake up, sell your fruit on the dusty streets below your flat, and go to sleep. but everything changes when a customer you always look forward to seeing turns out to be dangerous. really, really dangerous. note: again, this wasn't on the docket for 2024 until i saw one (1) mint yoongi edit on my pinterest feed💀 anyways, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: this series may not be for everyone, language, violence, weapons (guns/knives/chopsticks/etc.), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, murder, gang activity, poor reader is just trying to get through the day, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, tension, slow burn, choking, reader suffers from “my cabbages” levels of disaster, slight e2l, fight sequences, multiple future explicit scenes, yoongi deserves his own warning, chains but who is ever ever shocked, graphic depictions of violence drop date: august 5th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.4k aiyaaa✌ mood playlist: here

—

Ever since you could remember, gang activity in your town has run unchecked.

Anything goes. Rough fights out of nowhere, car chases busting streets, or even random delinquents snatching food on the run, dust kicking up onto stock they left behind.

And out of all the districts, yours is begrudgingly the second worst.

Why? You still aren’t completely sure. But you do know that the darkest is reserved for the underbelly that only slithers in rumors. A place in which you will never find yourself.

But you do wonder what must happen there to warrant the winning title because each day here is a battle to keep yourself afloat.

All you do is sell fruit. Why are you fighting for your life every week? Why can’t you exchange goods for money in peace? If you could compare it to the movies you grew up watching on an outdated television, it’s a grungy reflection of the wild west.

But through all the shit you’ve chosen to endure, at least one person is always kind enough to buy his wares and go.

And today is no different.

You still don’t know his name. But you yearn to. Because his hair is the color of magic and rebellion, and his tattoos really set off that bright mop of locks.

If those lethal, piercing eyes weren’t enough.

When he lifts three long digits, it takes all your strength to nod and get his purchase together. This is the part that never changes, either.

Just like always. One, three, or five fingers for tangerines. Never two, never four, and never any other fruits.

It’s charming, in a way. As if he’s more particular than most about what he wants—a trait elusive to many.

Like clockwork, you would hand his order over in thin plastic, and he would walk away to hitch a ride on a passing cart. Just like he does right now with a lazy gait, white tee billowing from his jeans.

Another day. Another exchange.

In the wavy heat of summer, you sigh. Wondering if anything is ever going to change, and if you would ever get to know more about your most frequent, most mysterious patron.

After a while, you do try talking to him.

Those looks of confusion slowly turn into little hums or grunts, then into single words that keep you going for days. Even though you rarely hear it, his voice is just as attractive as he is.

One day, you offer him a plantain, handing it over and telling him it’s on the house.

“Thanks,” he says amongst the clinks and conversations of the street, pocketing the food away.

When he does, you see a flash of black metal, and you already know what he’s carrying. You’re used to seeing all sorts of those around nowadays. In this district, you’d be shocked if he didn’t have an arsenal on his person while traveling through.

Besides. Even you have a couple collecting dust in your own flat, handed down by extended family but never used.

“If you ever need anything other than tangerines,” you start with a point to his pants, “Please buy those instead.”

He’s unmoving. Blinks are all you get so you have no choice but to explain,

“I’m so tired of eating them with everything.”

When he huffs in amusement, your heart flutters thrice. There’s no reason for a sheen of sweat and sticky mint locks to be so deadly.

“Then eat something else,” is all the stranger advises before walking off.

Well.

Even though you don’t have much of a choice, the guy does have a point. You wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest if his aim’s just as straightforward as his wit.

Once one exchange lasts longer than a sentence, the two of you start little conversations during his visits. Which prove more fatal than normal since he’d rest his tattoos on the top shelf of your cart.

From what you can make out, there are creatures stretching in beautiful teal and vivid orange, and even striking white on his other arm. They ripple so well with his veins, a canvas that sways and hypnotizes with every drum of his fingers.

You know what they symbolize, though it’s unique to have all of them together.

Taboo, even.

But you can’t hold back your admiration because of the sheer beauty. What would they feel like if you just…

“You always stare this long?”

Shit. “Oh, sorry. I just… I rarely see anyone’s ink up close.”

To your dismay, he takes his arm back. “I don’t have a lot of time today, princess.”

“Right, sorry. Hold on,” you respond, cringing hard at blurting two apologies in a ten second span.

Meanwhile, your way too handsome regular cocks a brow, clearly comfortable making you squirm as you hand over his bag.

Effortless. In your chaotic life, It’s almost intoxicating feeling someone this resolute in their whole demeanor. If only you could be so commanding and assured one day.

But here you stand instead, pretending to count fruit you one hundred percent know the stock of already. “Your art is really nice, by the way,” you admit to your inventory. “All the high-powers. I like what you picked.”

“Didn’t choose these.”

Ah. Way to assume things.

Raising your head, you make to apologize a third time.

But he’s already retreating with his tangerines, hand stuffed in a pocket and beautiful waves a little less vibrant than you recall.

“What.”

“I worry sometimes.”

His gaze lifts. “About me?”

“Yeah.”

You don’t know why you choose to say that of all things. But it’s honest. You always wonder about him and think about the weapon in his jeans. Does he use it? Does he ever need to?

Maybe you should pick up a hobby or two.

Fingers resting dangerously close, he asks with a tilt of his head, “What would you do, doll? If something happened to someone like me.”

Someone like him? What does that mean?

Great. Now you have even more to wonder about, as if he knew that was your exact predicament.

You stare, roaming along his arms before meeting his eyes—almost. “Find someone else to buy my tangerines.”

Huffing, his brows tick up with his mouth. “I respect that.” His attention doesn’t leave your face as he slowly takes his purchase. “See ya.”

“Bye,” you whisper back, watching him go. More thoughts and concerns bouncing around your mind in the sticky heat of midday.

These little nicknames he’s using also aren’t helping your issue in the slightest.

It starts when you hear shouting from a block down.

“Here they come!”

“Bunch of idiots this time.”

“What do you mean this time?”

Rough raiders this early? They should know it’s almost time for Dragon’s sweep. Bold.

After you hear the telltale yells, clanks, and bangs, your section of the street braces for impact.

And it swoops in like a whirlwind, ruffians tearing through, pillaging and stealing and swiping goods into thick woven baskets.

Baskets? The usual suspects always carry leather bags. You assume because of their sturdiness and inconspicuous nature, but what do you really know.

Here it goes again.

As your fruit is taken right from your cart, you sink to your toes, mourning the regular loss of your menu.

No use fighting. Like every other time, you all let it happen because there’s no point in trying to protect anything that isn’t valuable. Perishables and small homemade goods aren’t worth getting gutted over. Truly, the worst losses you suffer are when—

Your cart shifts violently before thieves topple it over, cracking one of your wheels and splitting the wooden boards in three places.

Springing to your feet, you douse the perpetrators in anger, “What the hell!”

“Oh, this was yours?” Someone chides while his cronies run past. “Thanks for the oranges, love!”

“They’re tangerines!” you correct at his retreating back, kicking your cart before yelping at your bad decision. “Damn it…”

Back to your knees you go. Head drooping, arms encircling, and disappointment pooling around like a shadow.

More shouts and feet in the road rampage through. Then it gets quieter. And quieter.

Then it’s done.

After silence swells in the wake of chaos, groans start making their way down the street.

“What’d they get from you this time,” you ask your neighbor, a charming old man selling anything from bowls to wide, round frying pans.

Looking over his little wreckage, he blinks hard. “They got my woks. Nothing as bad as yours. You okay?”

Walking over to help clean his mess up first, you bend down with a sigh, “I’ll be alright. But it still sucks.. My poor tangerines..”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not much to do about it now,” you resign, all your energy taken from you, too.

A little bit of time passes as you complete your usual round of help, though this raid was worse than others. As they all give their thanks, you keep thinking about how to make the whole situation better. Moreso for them than you because you’ve always been one of the least vulnerable ones on the block.

“You should find another place to sell, dear.”

In disagreement, you slip into a saddened smile. “I can’t leave you guys,” you explain to the lady you’re holding pails for. “Who will help clean everything up?”

“Don’t underestimate your elders now.”

“Fair,” you respond through a chuckle, handing her one of the metal buckets. “If only better protection was an option around here.”

“You know the rules,” another shop owner drones through lingering spices, “Dragon won’t protect us if it isn’t in their own interests.”

Unfortunately, he’s right. Every single raid that hasn’t coincided with a gang sweep goes overlooked. Even the city police don't bother coming down your street anymore, which is another issue in itself.

If only Tiger or Crane had been the high-powers in place instead.

At least they seem to be more fair.

After you finish helping, you finally venture back to your own cart, realizing that the trek is a lot further than you thought.

Did you really walk so far this time? The damage was dealt for much more than a block at this point.

Not like you need to sprint back, though. What’s left to steal? Everything you got swept into those woven containers.

Still so odd…

But not as odd as the sight that greets you on your return.

Because instead of seeing your wreckage of a cart tilted and abysmal, it’s upright and being mended.

By none other than your favorite set of hands.

What the hell? What’s he doing here? You quite literally have nothing to give so there’s no reason for him to spare a second at your broken stand.

Fast-walking, you hastily try to halt his help, “Oh, shit, you don’t have to—”

“Course I don’t.”

That shuts you up. In your split second of silence, you note with agony that his hair is messily tied in a minted bun. Are his sleeves bunched at his biceps, too? Great. What were you even telling him again?

Ah, yes. You were telling this mystery of a man that he doesn’t have to literally put your stand back together. “Seriously, I got it.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

“But it’s my cart, I don’t need your—”

With one look over his shoulder, your mouth snaps shut. And suddenly can’t move to argue again.

What the hell is up with today?

Forget all that. What’s he doing? At least you’re familiar with all the shop owners and vendors on your block, though you can’t say you wouldn’t do the same thing for someone you don’t know. But this guy has always been so standoffish and barely approachable. So how is he lending both hands to help you right now?

Whatever. If he’s gonna be as stubborn as this heat, you can be, too.

Scanning the area for scattered tools, you find a sun-warmed hammer and get to work, fixing one end of the cart while he works on the other. When you feel his gaze on your working shoulder, it takes massive strength to ignore him—even if you wanna know what his issue is and why he smells really, really good this afternoon.

Looks like you need more nails for this board to fit. When your eyes find a couple on the ground, you clinch a second piece between your teeth while hammering in the first.

Sounds stop at your side, but you wait until you pluck the metal nail from your mouth and stamp it in to look over.

Oh. He’s eyeing the hammer. Not you. Obviously.

You wordlessly hand it over, arm slicked with exertion. Because after the day you’ve had, you don’t feel like everything needs a spoken sentence attached.

It takes the guy a bit to take it from you, but when he does, he holds your stare. “Thanks.”

You simply nod, eyes sticking to him as he works on the tattier side wait it looks almost new. Better than it has in a very long time. Did he really get that much done in the time you were gone? There’s been great care taken during his repair if that’s the case.

Hmm. You finally learn something about your favorite customer. Maybe he’s just been a mechanic or carpenter this whole time?

Contemplative, you get up on sore legs to walk to your cooler—something thankfully missed by the rough raiders. Digging through the clinkage, you retrieve a local beer you recently procured from the restaurant across the street.

It’s not much. Absolute bottom shelf. But it’s all you got other than a few pieces of oni-coin, so he’s gonna have to deal with it.

When you offer the glass, your regular eyes it for a moment. More than enough time for you to get a good look at his striking floral top.

Well. Mechanic and carpenter are out of the question because that one piece of clothing looks more expensive than your entire apartment building.

Who even is this guy? Now you feel destitute handing him something so cheap.

Just when you think he’s gonna refuse, he takes the beer and smoothly shucks it open, suddenly making you wonder how a bracelet can do that and why it was so attractive.

God. You need to walk straight to the nearest inlet stream and dunk your head right in.

“Thank you,” you whisper, gulping at his full swigs. “You really didn’t have to do all this.”

“Got some time to kill,” he shrugs. Standing, the man takes another sip, peering along the street with sunlit eyes. With the bottle near his mouth, he murmurs, “You really need to set up somewhere else, doll. This street’s turning into a hot spot.”

Squinting up at the long lines of clothes and curtains floating in the breeze, you sigh at the building nearest. “I live close,” you sulk. “And this is the easiest place to get to.”

Those are excuses. Just tell him the real reason you won’t venture out and plop yourself somewhere more profitable. Well, maybe not all of the reasons, but the main one.

Leaning back on your cart, you stare at the loose dirt, swiping some with your shoes. “Maybe I’m just used to it at this point.”

He won’t respond. Or he’ll respond in his own way, which is mostly silence.

But a bright strand falls over his face before he hums, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Many people have warned you at this point. It’s basically your stubborn and spiteful nature that’s making you stay in the first place. Why would you move when you chose to be here? Why leave a place you actively choose to call home?

Fighting spirit quelled, you nod right to your stand as you count what’s salvageable. “I know, but I like it here.” When he lifts an unbelieving brow, you look away. “It’s true. But trust me, if there was a way to just make it all stop, I’d take it.”

He takes another swig, both of you looking into the street and watching things slowly get back to normal pace. Adults and kids alike are back to wandering around, buying what’s left and offering condolences.

“I’m not fixing another cart,” your patron turned repairman grunts, motioning to your wheel as he steps back. “So don’t fuck this one up.”

Huh? It wasn’t your fault! All the accidents and chaos that blow through aren’t something you can control oh he’s grinning. Why is he grinning? Why do you feel hot all over?

His teeth shine in daylight. “I’m messing with you.”

Ah.

This version of him is not good for you at all.

When he starts to walk away, you blurt out a quick, “Wait!”

Shit! Why did you do that? What are you possibly supposed to say right now? All you wanted was to see him a little longer… And while staring at his backside would be more than enough, you kinda wanted to actually talk.

What do you do? He stopped; he’s waiting.

And he looks impatient as hell.

Snapping into action, you round your cart and trot over, offering your name as if you didn’t just give up where you lived.

Then—without thinking—you ask for his with the most curious, innocent, “What’s yours?”

Silence has never been so booming.

In the dusty swirls of your street, you wait with a back that’s getting sweatier and colder with each passing second.

Was that not okay to ask? Did you fuck up with a single question?

Perfect. You just blew your one good thing about being out here. Wincing, you crush your words so hard you think your teeth will break into dust, drifting off into the very breeze wafting his striking locks.

After a condescending puff, he only smirks.

Then he takes one step. And another. And another.

The air around you melts, weighing on your shoulders while lighting them aflame all at once. It’s a feeling you can’t describe to anyone else, because they would just need to stand next to this man to believe it.

Checking to see if the street is clear, your best customer leans over. Slowly. Purposefully. “Yoongi,” he offers with a voice so handsome you’ll think about it for days. “But don’t fucking tell anyone.”

Oh.

Why did… you kinda like that?

Blinking, you swallow. “I won’t.”

This is when he’s supposed to just leave. He’d walk away, bag swinging with his strides. But ever keeping you on your sore toes, the man just chuckles low before rasping out the most devilish sentence in existence,

“Always took you for a good girl.”

Then he backs away, turning on his heel and leaving you a statue in the street.

Yoongi.

For a hardened soul, his name is so…

Tender.

For the next sixty days, you don’t get ransacked once.

But there’s also been no sight of Yoongi.

As the weeks trudge by, you can’t decide which outcome is worse.

The skies are magnificent today. But obviously at a molten price.

“Thank you for trying,” you say to a lovely wares owner before venturing back out into simmering streets. Exhaling, you wipe sweat from your brow, squinting before choosing to walk left or right.

Left seems promising.

You’ve been searching for hours now, perusing through shops, checking out vendors both nice and catty. But after a whole day’s search, you still haven’t found what you’re looking for.

It’s nothing urgent or pressing. But you would at least like to be prepared.

Since your initial mission is a bust, hopefully your next one makes up for it before you melt right into gravel and dirt.

Find a meal.

Walking along the busy roads, you pass a few options and keep them in mind, making sure to greet a fellow tangerine cart vendor with a smile. Hopefully they do well today.

A couple steps further, a giant cooler catches your eye. Seafood of all types lie inside along cubes of ice, and you weigh the pros and cons of smelling like fish just to have a cool head.

But before you can make any choices, the smell of spices and hearty soup softly pull your feet inside the restaurant nearby.

What’s here? Noodles? You’re always down for that. Apparently even in scorching weather.

After ordering, you take your seat at a random middle table in a chair facing the entrance.

Always facing the entrance.

Damn. You really need to accomplish what you set out to do. But sunset is fast approaching these days, and you aren’t anywhere close to home. All you have time for now is eating and heading out.

The service here is quick, at least. You’re already thanking the owner for sliding a bowl in front of your sweaty form.

With a head full of thoughts, you stare into nothing, stirring your noodles and waiting for the heat to die down.

Maybe you should’ve just walked a shorter distance and checked the shops you originally wanted to browse. If things went to plan, you could’ve been back by now, freshly showered and curling up on a worn down bed.

But instead, your feet are sore, your head is anything but washed, and you have to trek home empty-handed—on the first day off you’ve had in months.

Defeated, you sigh, going back to your bowl and watching sliced vegetables swirl in aromatic broth.

At least the food in this area seems good. And the fading decor really adds to the…

Ambiance.

Wait.

Dragons. A lot of them.

You can’t pull your eyes away from the crew walking in, bringing heat from the sweltering sun in their eyes and donning their telltale, striking teal.

But you can only kid yourself for so long because the one that truly has your gaze tethered is the man in front. The one you haven’t seen in weeks. The one looking right back at you with a visage so shadowed you feel like moving tables to let him pass.

…Yoongi?

His jacket. The colors.

He’s in Dragon?

Suddenly his hair makes terrifying sense.

As his guys stalk through, you swallow hard, not expecting to see him and having no earthly idea what to do with this harrowing information. There are so many thoughts overlapping each other that they all amalgamate into one huge batch of sludge.

Aren’t you smack dab in Crane territory? There’ve been white suits peppering the streets everywhere.

So what the hell is Dragon doing here?

From the slight confusion pinching his forehead, you know Yoongi didn’t expect to see you, either. Which makes it even weirder when he slowly takes your chopsticks right from your fingers.

Hold on, what—

“What are you—”

A lone, long digit over lips is the only response you get, silencing you immediately before you whip your head around to watch him rush past.

All of them waste no time tearing up the stairs, a myriad of blues blending with gritty paint and smoke.

And just like that, your reunion is over.

Home. You need to go home. Leave, leave, leave, because something is bound to be going down upstai—

A thud faintly shoots out into the staircase, and you spin around again in your chair, eyes snapping to the ceiling.

Shit.

Even though you’re on high alert, you realize with a quick sweep that no one else is noticing. Or moving. Or even paying attention to anything else but their own company.

Does no one else care about the commotion? Do hits happen in this area that often?

Mind running, you can’t decide what to do. Because even though Yoongi’s guys have plenty of weapons, he clearly had nothing since he needed to borrow your damn eating utensils.

Another crash rains dust on conversations around your shoulders, causing you to look up one last time.

Go home, go home, go home. In what universe would Yoongi himself ever need your help here?

With one more look at your noodles, you curl your lips before biting a side.

Already yelling at yourself for choosing to book it towards the back staircase.

Shit shit shit this is so stupid. This is probably the worst decision you’re gonna make in your life.

But your gut is churning thinking about Yoongi. Even a seasoned swordsman needs expertise to wield mere chopsticks and win.

Fuck, if you succeeded in your search today, you probably could’ve been a little more useful.

Swiping your own set of red from a nearby cup, you hightail it up, slowing as you round a corner and immediately hear multiple clangs and scuffles beyond the last turn.

Stop. You can go back. You can still turn around and go home.

An inhale.

Your feet propel you up and into a dark hall. As you slowly slide along the wall, your gut churns and churns. At a bang, you crouch with a skipped beat of your heart.

This is really, really dumb. But you can’t stop yourself and you have no clue why.

Nothing happens around you. So you keep going. With each careful slide of your foot, you get closer and closer to the noise.

Approaching the corner, you very slowly stick your head out for a peek.

And it’s pure commotion. Pure chaos. Holy shit, what is going on?

Fuck, there’s already a body lying limp on the floor meters away—

Your chopsticks. You wanna hurl.

But a man flies out of a room ahead before he grips and wrestles with another, and you reel yourself back to avoid being seen by either one.

Where is Yoongi? Is he okay? Did he leave already?

You give one more peek, scanning the long raucous corridor as swift as you can to see any sign of.. Mint.

He’s still here. How’s he just walking so nonchalant as his crew fucks shit up? Crap, he just went into a room and out of sight.

“Where’d they go?”

“Upstairs!”

Fuck, that was in the restaurant! Get up get up you have no choice but to hide now.

With pounding steps, you rush forward and book it, entering a large room to dive behind some steel shelving and large, woven baskets right as more Dragons come in behind with fists clenched.

Breathe. Steady. Calm the fuck down.

The grunts rush to the hallway to join the fray, and you wait in the now pungent solitude of your room. With only a still body to accompany you.

What do you do? What even can you do?

Just as nerves grip your stomach like a vice, Yoongi strides into the open area, heading right for the exit and not even sparing his kill a glance.

Go. Go now. Why can’t you move? Why aren’t your hands letting go of your cold confinement? It smells like death and blood and you need to leave with the only person you know—or don’t—so why can’t your feet just fucking—

Someone else slithers into the room. A man in brown with a knife. A knife, a knife, a knife he’s getting faster and Yoongi doesn’t hear him the guy is too quiet fuck! “Yoongi!”

It all happens before your brain can paint the bloody picture. Shooting out from your hiding spot, you race towards the assassin, slamming into their lanky build just in time.

Both of you topple to the ground, your target roaring in pain and twisting like hell to fight back fuck you didn’t get him how you needed to he’s got you—

Pain erupts in your hip as you’re grabbed, the room spinning as you’re thrown to the side and your ear hitting concrete right before chopsticks ping down. Thinking quick, you knee the guy as hard as you can, scrambling to finish the job because if you don’t, you’re gone gone gone.

“Bitch!” Your opponent clutches your shirt right as you reach for the nearest red pair, seizing your throat right as you grip and swing them around to stab the other side of his neck with a yell.

Luckiest timing of your life.

“Hng!” Fuck, he’s still holding down hard and choking, choking, squeezing. “Fuck you!”

Fight back. Keep the weapon inside he’s too strong finish him finish him.

Darkness. Ink drops in water. Your vision taints as your grip loosens, and you can only hope that Yoongi got away safe. He had to. At least you… Were able to do…

This one thing…

…

Oxygen and life rush back into your lungs, color burning through your esophagus as you gasp for sweet sweet air. Right as you come to, all you witness is the heavy heel of a boot twisting the forearm latched onto you.

And when the shoe leaves your vision. Lifeless eyes stare back.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck that was close. Oh god. You actually did it. Oh fuck.

Coughing, you rush up as you get tugged and pulled right against chains and embroidery, your ears ringing with a gravelly command and glass breaking in the nearby corridor,

“Don’t say my fuckin’ name so loud.”

“Excuse me?”

Yoongi roughly lets you go before pinning you with pure anger. Not to say thank you. Not to tell you any words of gratitude at all. The only other thing he finds the need to say is simply,

“You shouldn’t be up here.”

What the fuck. You just murdered someone for him and this is all you get? Eyes welling, you feel your body slick and sticky with crimson when you turn, coughing and spitting out regret before you wheeze, wheeze, wheeze, “That’s—that’s all you have to say?”

Dread swirls around your stomach like poison.

But the sternness from before completely vanishes as Yoongi lifts your chin. His eyes scan your throat and chest, and you rip your head away from his touch because he is not excused just yet.

“It’s not mine,” you snap, knowing exactly what he’s looking for and what you must look like to him. Dirty. Gross. Certainly a far image from the girl selling tangerines.

But your face is gently held again, and somehow this softer turn carries more strength to swivel you forward.

Why is Yoongi still looking? Now he’s holding your gaze as if he’s never seen you before. What’s that about? You’re still the same, the same, the same.

…Are you?

More crashes and shots are heard down the hall, and Yoongi snaps his head up in an instant.

God, you smell. You reek. Your nose is tainted and your hands even more so. There’s no way he’s gonna have anything to do with you now.

But you get the shock of the century when the man commands you to come along. “Let’s go.”

Absolutely not. This is all you got in you for a lifetime. “What? No, no, no. No way, I’m going home.”

“And they’ll follow you the whole way back.”

“I—I didn’t mean to—”

Shots ring out before grunts barrel out into the short hallway. All of them piling out from crevasses and hidden passages.

You give one more look at the two men now crumpled on the ground, bile rising up and threatening to spill.

“Tough shit, princess. You did, now live with it.”

Live with it. How poetic.

You were protecting him. You did what you had to do. But you have blood on your hands again and now Yoongi will see you as something else besides a fucking street vendor.

“Are you coming or not?”

You’re gonna puke your guts out.

With a stilted cry, you bend to snatch your weapons up yet again—gagging at the squelches and much deeper red—before following Yoongi’s long steps.

Your hands. They’re shaking so bad you can’t even pocket the chopsticks properly. But you finally get them down, crushing your palms and squeezing just to stop them from rattling.

When you wait behind Yoongi checking the corner, you turn around to make sure you aren’t being followed. And seeing the hallway still a moving mass of broken glass and hard swings, you think you’re safe.

The stairs feel so different on the way down. Is that because you feel completely changed? There’s no coming back from this. Another side of you died right alongside those two people upstairs.

No time to think about that. You have to follow his lead. And he’s slowing down why is he slowing down?

Oh. Normal. Be normal to not garner suspicion. You have to do the same.

Wait. You can’t go down there with a shirt full of stained evidence! Grabbing him and pulling back, you whisper, “Yoongi—”

His growl is so fierce your head spins, “What the fuck did I say about my n—”

“My clothes,” you panic. “I can’t.”

Yoongi gives you a quick look before gripping the duffle strap. Brows lowered, he grits out while dumping it, “Lose the shirt.”

“What?”

“Do it.”

“Where’d he go?”

“It’s gone!”

Your heads snap up before you lock eyes. And he doesn’t need to say anything to show you what he’s thinking behind those minted bangs.

As you hastily strip, your brain works in weird ways. Instead of processing how you very much need to hurry the fuck up, you lament the bra of choice today. And how sweaty you look. Because of course those are your thoughts of choice right now.

Something’s dumped on you before your shirt hits the ground, and you think about its warmth before you realize exactly what’s on your shoulders. “You sure?”

He’s already heading down. Oh god. You’re really putting this on shit shit shit.

You’re quick to slip into the material before checking for your chopsticks, rushing down the rest of the stairs to meet him. Nerves firing on all cylinders, you follow Yoongi out of the restaurant with a single, disturbing thought.

This is going too well.

But you’re passing tables, you’re walking by the fish display, don’t fucking sob you’re out in the street now.

Relax. You’re walking. His white tee is flawless and people have no clue you left a bloody shirt on a stairwell. Don’t fucking cry.

But suddenly.

Shouting erupts behind you both, just as a cop car rolls past the restaurant only to get surrounded.

And with one look back, your brain freezes. Right before Yoongi sounds a little too delighted to say something so foreboding,

“Looks like you’re in it now.”

Adrenaline spikes as you burst into motion. Hot summer air stings your lungs as legs propel you forward, with nothing in sight except for your partner in high crime.

Yoongi’s right.

You’re in it now.

And just like the delinquents that you despise, the two of you both kick up dust on the run.

You’re really doing this.

Holy shit, you’re really doing this and there’s no waking up, no jolting awake, no pinching yourself to know that it’s all a dream. The only thing pinching is your sides, fresh stings of karma with each heavy footstep through crowded streets, buildings, levels, wherever the fuck you go.

At least Yoongi is commanding as he leads you through the city—clearly from a heap of experience. Though rattled, you follow him with more adrenaline than questions. Because running is all you know. Run, run, run, escaping is your only objective and you cannot let up even once.

Your feet pelt down a staircase before you leap onto a disposal bin, impact denting as you follow Yoongi’s long strides across the colorful tops. Shouts and metal pings echo behind you as your chasers catch up, and you grit your teeth so hard they rattle as you jump to alley ground. “Fuck!”

Searing, searing pain rushes through your legs as you twist and wind through busy corridors, squeezing into the gaps Yoongi finds as he barrels in front.

“Get back here!”

“You fuckers!”

Who’s following you? Are they even Crane? You don’t see a shred of white on their clothes at all so are they working for some random guy Yoongi stole from?

When you watch him turn at the shouting, all thoughts vanish as your gut churns.

He’s grinning.

You just killed someone for him. And he probably has more blood on his hands than you can imagine.

And he’s… enjoying this?

You feel sick, mind blazing with a million red warning signs. How could you ever have had feelings for h—

You bounce off a passerby as you run, grunting at the sudden pain in your shoulder when another person rams into your back and topples you over, dirt scraping into your palms and knees.

Shit shit shit it’s so dusty on the ground and all you see are traveling shoes where are you? Where is he did he leave did he even see you fall? It’s too condensed here there’s no way he’s not taking the next chance to disappear.

Forget all of that, they’re coming. The chasers are coming and you see them see you down get up get up get up what the fuck get up now.

Ripping out a groan, you rush to your feet as soon as someone swoops in, bashing someone right behind you with someone’s crate of fruit.

Yoongi? He waited for you?

“Go!”

Both of you hightail it with you now in the lead, and your eyes buzz as you slip through holes in the crowd. Left, left, right, around, left again, between.

An intersection ahead. Yes. Lose everyone in the vehicle traffic or hitch a ride with a stranger. Fascinating how the survival tactics that spawn from your block develop in real time on the run.

Almost there, almost there, almost there—fuck!

Whiffing in front of your nose, a metal weapon smacks the ground at your toes.

Flailing, you dodge the next swing, ducking before you see a black duffle smack your assailant in the face.

Keep going. Finish him and get away. As Yoongi shifts left, you lunge forward, sending a swift punch to the guy’s ribs that hurt like hell goddamn oh fuck someone brought a knife!

“Yoongi!” Just as the surrounding civilians yell and clear out, you rush toward his aid before you’re tackled, air whooshing out of your lungs as your back pummels into gravel. Fuck fuck fuck this masked woman also has a dagger. A thick one. Don’t let her win don’t let her win hold on for dear fucking life.

Did you think you’d find yourself in a grudge match to keep metal from sinking into your chest today? No. Ever? Also no.

Your arms are shaking. Shots ring out. Sweat is your enemy. The street is in uproar. Where’s Yoongi did he hear you? Fuck, the metal tip is pricking you now this is—

Mercifully, your attacker yelps as something slams into her side, dark brown clothes crumpling before you’re hoisted upward and dragged back into the crowd.

“Let me go or I’ll kick your ass—”

“You good?”

Oh, it’s Yoongi. Again. Okay. Eyes swirling, you lock onto the gun held flush in his other hand before you nod. “I—I think so—”

“Then keep up.”

Winding between people, you’re only focused on getting away. But when you catch glimpses of him, he’s back to his glint. He’s exhilarated.

If only you were both doing anything else. If only you weren’t so queasy and guilty and loathing of your own self.

Right as you finally burst into bustling traffic, Yoongi boldly stops a taxi at its hood, motioning you to follow him inside.

Shocked but head reeling, you open the door closest to your sweaty legs and slide in.

And before you can even greet the shouting driver, Yoongi pulls you to his side and rushes something out in your ear,

“Kiss me.”

“I said get out!”

“What?”

“Come here.”

You’ve kissed before. Not many times, but enough to know that this man knows what the fuck he’s doing because you feel like your soul just abandoned you to exist in this car forever. You don’t know why this is happening or where this came from, but his lips feel as soft as his name and as deadly as the gun he’s pulling on your driver—

“Han Station,” he drawls, halting time and space. “Or your papers are burned by morning.”

Oh.

You were just… Oh.

Lips puffed and head swirling, you sit frozen in your spot, marinating in the realization that the best kiss of your life was a mere distraction. And as you watch Yoongi keep his aim straight, you assume he probably didn’t even think much of it, either.

“…I thought you looked familiar,” the driver slowly grits, hands gripping his wheel before he shakes his head. “You’re a little far from home.”

You think that’s all he’s gonna say. But his eyes are sharp in the rear view mirror, knowing a gun is pointed straight at his dome. “Aren’t you.”

What is he getting at you need to leave fast—

“Agust.”

…Huh?

Agust?

This is the first time you feel a heartbeat against your arm, and you hold a breath as Yoongi tightens his fingers on the gun.

When he doesn’t reply, the car fills to the brim with tension, and you feel crushed by its liquid weight.

Don’t you have to go? Aren’t you in a chase? Are you getting a little too hot?

When you go to slide to your own side of the car for some space, the hand around your shoulder squeezes.

And you’re more confused, exhausted, and thrown off than ever.

“Han Station,” is all Yoongi—Agust?—repeats, voice ice. “Now.”

To which the taxi driver stares, standing his ground until he breaks eye contact first to obey.

“Fuckin’ Dragons and their useless whores.”

Oh, fuck that.

Before you can lunge forward to outright strangle the man, Yoongi does something that has your eyes magnifying into saucers and hands shooting up to your mouth.

He fires the gun straight at the man’s thigh, yelps leaving both the driver's throat and yours holy fuck!

“You bastard—”

“You’ll live. Drive.”

“Fucking—fuck!”

The car shifts through traffic, swerving left and right and cutting off slower vehicles. When force smushes you closer into Yoongi’s side, you can’t help but notice how fit he is, and how calm he’s being despite the whole chase. Despite that spike in adrenaline. Despite blowing a hole in a stranger’s leg for six words.

He also feels really, really good against your side, but you can’t let that matter anytime soon. There’s absolutely no way you can let this dangerous man in, especially after this entire nightmare of a day.

So you swallow, trying to compartmentalize because you’ll reach insanity if you don’t.

Does anyone out there know you took a life minutes ago? Or hours ago? You just kissed a criminal five and a half minutes ago. Would they care about that, too?

The window is suddenly much more interesting than any of your wandering, slingshot thoughts.

Wait. It’s very pretty in this area, and you finally can tell some semblance of where you are. Because you only know of one part of the city that looks like this, and it’s deep in Crane territory.

Did you both really make it this far?

Carefully tended to, it’s a lot greener on the sidewalks, and more open on the roads. And it’s on one of these roads that you finally notice the sunset, gold accents shining on sleek street signs and the tops of buildings that seem much more at rest than you do.

Rest. Sleep. Home.

With the luck you’re having, it would be a miracle and a half to reach even one of the three.

Did you get followed? You don’t know how much longer you can run, so you really fucking hope not.

“Almost there,” Yoongi whispers, voice scratching your ear in the worst and best ways. “When we get out, move your ass.”

When you watch the wary, heavy breathing driver in his rear view mirror, you bite out, “I know how to get out of a car, thanks.”

“Just listen to me.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?”

“No.”

That came out quicker than you could stop it. But Yoongi only lets silence come between you before he squeezes your shoulder. When he speaks, you can hear how carved out his smirk is without even seeing it,

“Good girl.”

And you spoke the truth. It wouldn’t have come out so fast if it weren’t. But you know to at least follow his advice here because he’s kept you alive thus far. He didn’t need to drag you out and protect you the whole way, so it’s not like he would steer you wrong here. Right?

Right?

“Here,” Yoongi orders before the car slows to a stop.

That wasn’t so bad. You can get out normally now so why did Yoongi say—

Right as your foot hits ground, the taxi peels out, forcing you to throw yourself out of the side before the rest of your body leaves with it.

Fucking hell that hurt what the fuck was that for?

Dirt and dust coats your tongue before you do anything to spit it out. Saliva rushes from your glands as you cough and hack, all while feeling every muscle group in your body begging to not stand up.

But you feel rough, commanding hands on your arms. “You good?”

“Yeah—”

“Then get up. Get up.”

Straining and wincing like hell, you follow Yoongi’s lead yet again. Because you hear cars rolling up with bad intentions and that means you have to sprint again.

What the fuck did Yoongi steal? And how the hell are these guys still on your tail? Their resources have got to be as good as Crane’s and yet, they don’t feel the same at all.

You’re hobbling, but you’re going. You’re rushing. You’re going to get through this alive.

Instead of heading into the underground, you find yourself ascending a flight of steps. Rumbles and rattles hit your ears as you realize exactly what kind of station this is—one you haven’t seen anywhere in your district.

Han Station is a floating railway?

Holy shit, where are you?

Yoongi skids around a corner before you plant hard to stop yourself, only to see him clash with someone before something connects right with your stomach, and you crumple before you feel a solid hit to your head.

Oh.

The world spins and moves as you hear vibrations, slowed sounds that could be shouts. Gunshots? Or maybe songs? You don’t truly know but your head is aching—

Your arm rushes up to block something before your body follows, and you scream before gripping whatever you can and flipping a whole body forward.

Reality crashes back into your ears as you snap out of your head.

You haven’t had to do that maneuver in forever. Was muscle memory more than enough?

“Come on!”

Go. Go, follow him, both of you need to get to the rail shit it’s leaving!

The blaring reverberates through the air, pinging off metal and wheels screeching on the track lines as you bolt for the open doors.

Mid-stride, Yoongi swings to look at the people barreling up the stairs. “One more time: do you trust me?”

“No!”

“Good”—his hands grip your waist—“Jump!”

Head empty, you leap onto the railcar right as it starts to pick up speed, and you watch in horror as Yoongi empties his clip behind him until he can’t anymore.

“Yoo—” Fuck, what was his name? He seems to not prefer the one you call him and that has to be for good reason. What was it?

You’re leaving. He’s gritting his teeth while hitting the bottom of his gun but he needs to get up! What was his fucking name!

“Agust!”

Yoongi finally whips his head around, dashing to the end of the train and straining to carry the duffle.

He needs to launch it or leave it behind. There’s no way he’s not being weighed down so hard. “Here!” you yell, knowing that look is only reserved for people he doesn’t want to trust. It’s normal. But it still stings. “Hurry up!”

After one more second, he swings it around and flings, leaping onto the side handrail after you get blasted by the bag holy fuck that hurt.

He was running with this the whole time? No wonder his shoulders are so cut this is heavy.

Straining, you peek out into the wind, seeing Yoongi holding on and scooting along thin steprails towards your awaiting hands.

Shit, this is dangerous. Buildings and the city below fly by, and a parallel train whooshes and roars past as you finally tug him inside with shaky wheezes.

Just like that.

You made it out.

What the fuck. You did it. No one else was able to get onto the train. You’re safe for now.

Finally, finally, finally able to breathe.

But goddamn, you both stand out like blood on a blank page.

As you struggle to fully stand, you notice everyone else on the train—well-kept, carrying themselves in sleek linens and lush outfits, hair done beautifully and to perfection.

Which makes it unsurprising that plenty of them regard the pair of you with suspicion and morbid curiosity. While intrigue covers the one with an unfairly handsome face, zings of jealousy and judgment fire your way.

You feel so out of place. You are so out of place. But that doesn’t give anyone the right to look at you like filth. The words from the taxi driver pierce your brain again, and you feel rage and pain bubble up to your tongue,

“Anyone got something they wanna sa—”

But Yoongi does something that has your brain chemistry altering because he casually bends a knee in front of you while holding the top rail, forcing you back into the side of the train car and only seeing his jewelry.

When your eyes snap to his, he regards you before peering outside. “Stop,” he mutters. “You're causing a scene.”

“Me?” Oh, he has some nerve. “What did I do, you’re the one—”

“Quiet.”

Ridiculous. Huffing, you let disagreement tug your lips while joining him in watching the world go by.

Realizing with a pang that you are probably never getting back home. You’re never gonna see your favorite neighbor with his woks and caterpillar eyebrows. All the produce you were planning to sell will only succumb to mold and time.

Your tangerines…

When a tear falls, it glints in your reflection before quickly being swiped away.

No. Don’t do any of that here where people can see—where he can see. No one will know what the hell you just went through today. Be normal, strong, normal.

The ride lasts a little longer, with people coming and going during each stop. When there are seats open, neither you nor Yoongi move to take them. The two of you stay glued where you stand.

Silent, together, and covered in hidden blood.

The next stop seems to be in a quieter sector of the city. All around you are buildings you’ve never seen before stretching miles into the sky, and the streets are so neatly paved you’re convinced they’re fake.

“This is us,” Yoongi whispers, hand guiding your hip to move toward the doors.

Skin scorching under his touch, you can only nod.

Where are you now? Where are you getting off?

You both exit the train with a few others, and you watch with heightened curiosity as they carry satchels and wear shoes that look horribly uncomfortable. As you move down the steps, you keep craning your neck to take everything in, and more questions fill your head than answers.

But the truth remains even as you and Yoongi stop in front of your destination.

You cannot run anymore. Even if more of whoever those guys were showed up, you may just choose to sit down instead of take another stride. Besides, your body is still running a thousand steps even though you haven’t moved since getting on the train anyway. After today, the chase may never stop.

“We’ll stay here.”

We? Stay?

“Here? This place is…” You keep peering up and up, the top of the building so high your neck hurts. It’s so foreign and magical your only adjective is a quiet, “Nice.”

At your side, Yoongi seems annoyed when he asks, “Expect something different?”

“Yeah, like… I dunno, a secret lair or something.”

Air whooshes from his nostrils, but there’s a stark absence of a smile. Looking up at the building, too, he explains something that you’ve never heard of before,

“We’re in a grey zone. No one will follow us here.”

Right. Because that somehow makes sense to regular civilians like you. Because you are one, are one, are one. “Allegedly,” you scoff, not knowing what to believe anymore.

Yoongi pauses before heading up, and his agreement makes you look. “Allegedly.”

Mm.

After taking the tiny steps to the entrance, you wonder what he must be thinking bringing your haphazard look in tow.

Because he could’ve left you behind at any point in time. But he didn’t. What does that mean? Why is he keeping you alive and at his side?

While you’re taking in the opulent and vast lobby, Yoongi guides you toward the front desk, shifting the duffle on his shoulder.

This place is gorgeous. Nothing like you’ve ever seen. How were they able to install a waterfall in a building? What kind of money does this so-called grey zone have?

Yoongi nods toward the concierge, who quickly nods back and scurries away and into a room.

If you weren’t so tired, you could probably make something of that exchange. But you are very much exhausted so frankly, you don’t give a shit right now.

Although. You do give a shit about the fingers suddenly interlacing with your own. As your hand is held, you shoot your best client a look so potent he stares back. “What now,” you snip, question low and dripping with distrust.

Unfazed, Yoongi slowly pulls you into his side, a steady hand coming up to wrap around your tired hips. So nonchalant, so lax, so confusing as he murmurs,

“Just wanted to.”

Your heart trips into the next beat.

On sore legs, you wait until the concierge comes back with a key, eyes swiping over you as if they finally noticed your existence. Which seems to perplex them as they hand over the metal device.

And Yoongi just takes it, not a word said before he directs you across the lobby to what look like elevators.

Even these look fancy as fuck. Wherever you are and whatever this place is, you feel even more out of place than on that judgy train.

A hotel worker bows before he motions to the opening doors. “Nice to see you again,” he murmurs to the ground, seemingly expecting the same non-response given to the front desk. “Would you like the usual, Mister—”

“No,” Yoongi clips him off. “Not this time.”

“Understood.”

Brows pinched, you’re starting to get a weird feeling.

How does everyone know Yoongi so well here? He said this was a grey zone, which you’d think would be akin to a neutral or non-threatening one. So why does it feel like he’s got this area on lock? Who exactly are you getting into an elevator with?

…Who exactly did you save?

Yoongi was right when he said you’re in it now. But faced with more questions surrounding him than anything or anyone else, you’re starting to wonder what pit of hell you dropped yourself into.

Especially after catching the look of utter panic from the serviceman.

Right before sliding doors shut the world out.

—

⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: thank you all for being so patient as i work through this! it was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but i like, need characters to get to know and learn about one another before heading into spice lmao. I NEED PLOT OK. THERE WILL BE LOTS OF SMUT I PROMISE DSHFKDSF we just gotta get through the slow burn first >:)) a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist ⇥ minted masterlist (coming soon!)

#yoongi #mem x reader #organized crime #faves #kithtaehyung

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gffa · 3 years ago

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It’s been three months since my last set of recs and, in that time, this fandom has been on fire pretty much 24/7! Do I mean being on fire in the sense of a tire fire? Do I mean being on fire in the sense that everyone has been rocking it? Yes. And the fic that the fandom produces makes all of the rollercoaster worth it because, holy crap, I can never be dead on the inside when fic makes me feel this many things! I HAVE FELT SO MANY THINGS WHILE READING THESE FICS and I’m not going to be alone in that. So have some fic that I really loved! I’m less appreciative, however, of how you guys are putting out more fic than I can keep up with, so this list is once again a mere fraction of the good stuff out there. But at least you’ll be crying from feelings alongside me and hopefully find something that really tickles you to read! We could all really use some distraction and something good in this world, so STAR WARS fandom is here to do its best to provide. STAR WARS FIC RECS: PREQUELS RECS: ✦ Best (Questionable) Practice by Papook, jocasta nu & jaster mereel, 1.2k Maybe this one will talk, Jo thought, watching the man walk down the path approaching her hiding place. Every other person she had interrogated thus far had been singularly unhelpful, with no response worth recording. She was beginning to despair of finding any sources for her research, but she was determined to follow every possible lead. ✦ Bloodlines by KCKenobi, obi-wan & anakin & dooku, 35.8k or: your classic family road trip across a desert planet, except your grandpa is, you know, a Sith Lord. And now he’s sort of starting to bond with your Jedi dad. And that might be an issue. ✦ walk by faith/tell no one what you’ve seen by Killbothtwins, obi-wan & qui-gon & bant & bruck & tahl & dooku & cast, time travel, 39.1k After the end of the war with the Empire, Obi-Wan wakes up in his twelve-year old body. Now all he needs to do is convince everyone he’s psychic, trick his Master into taking him on before he’s sent to Bandomeer, redeem a few bad guys, and try not to have a nervous breakdown. Pretty easy. It’s not like the Sith are lurking on the horizon, waiting to devour the Jedi Order. ✦ Recovery by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin, 1.4k Obi-Wan falls ill during a mission and Anakin convinces his master to let him fill in for him. ✦ Beach Day by AdaliaK, obi-wan & anakin, 2.9k Obi-Wan tries to have a relaxing day at the beach with Anakin. It goes about as well as most things in Obi-Wan’s life. ✦ Just Resting My Eyes by hellowkatey, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & rex, 1.2k During a war, sleep is few and far between sometimes. Especially for stubborn Jedi who think meditation is a substitute for a REM cycle. ✦ cause a commotion (jump in the ocean) by loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, mer!anakin, 1.2k Ahsoka worries about finding a Master and instead finds a friend haunting the ponds in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. ✦ it takes a village by svitzian, obi-wan & anakin & plo & bant & kit & quinlan & aayla & luminara, 11.6k While Obi-Wan has business to attend to, Anakin is under the supervision of a string of Jedi babysitters. ✦ When the Master’s Away… by AdaliaK, obi-wan & anakin, 3.1k When Obi-Wan goes out, leaving Anakin alone, the mischievous Padawan decides to flaunt all his master’s rules. As always with Anakin, disaster ensues. ✦ How Soon Is Now by victoria_p (musesfool), obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & luke & leia, 1.2k Time moves differently on Malachor. ✦ Villains and Knaves by Be_Right_Back, obi-wan & hondo & katooni, 4.1k Hondo has a run-in with Obi-Wan, which is always good for morale, and bad for profit. ✦ a void in the deserted temple by nadiavandyne, barriss & ahsoka & luminara, time travel, ~1k When Barriss first sees Ahsoka again, she throws up. (Or, Post-Order 66 time travel, Barriss Offee edition.) ✦ Special Collections by Papook, obi-wan & cody & jocasta & clone ocs, 3.5k The Negotiator gets an unexpected comm from an unusual place. Enter LIIL Squad, stage right. ✦ undeserving fall (this kind of sunlit love) by loosingletters, luke/palpatine & cast, time travel, 9.6k A Naboo proverb says that it takes seven steps to fall from grace or climb towards glory. Sheev had never understood why the fall wasn’t considered a victory, when he had fallen towards the dark side with laurels adorning his head. ✦ Carbonite Tears by SiennahRobek, anakin & ahsoka & cast, 2.7k In a new attempt to turn Anakin Skywalker to the dark side, Chancellor Palpatine orchestrates the disappearances of heavily pregnant Padme Amidala and Master Councilor Obi-Wan Kenobi. It backfired. Nobody really won. ✦ Secrets of the Temple by AdaliaK, ahsoka & cast, 3.6k Youngling Ahsoka goes on a misguided adventure through the lower levels of the Jedi Temple and makes some interesting discoveries along the way. ✦ well-lived by CeruleanTactician, yoda & dooku & anakin, 1.2k With the death of Count Dooku, the Republic is on the verge of victory. Not long after, Yoda takes the time to say goodbye to his last padawan. ✦ black gloaming by loosingletters, shmi & ahsoka & ocs & cast, 1.8k “Shmi Skywalker, meet Sahki Tano and her daughter Ahsoka.” A few weeks after her son left Tatooine, Old Jira asks Shmi if she could take in two newly-captured slaves. ✦ With the Tide by KCKenobi, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 3.6k the disaster lineage ends up on the beach in the rain. Anakin says some things he regrets. Obi-Wan has a secret. And Ahsoka’s just tired of being caught in the middle. ✦ unbalanced, triumphant, and trying again by katierosefun, obi-wan & anakin, 2.6k sometimes you just want to go home, wherever that may be. ✦ peace (finally) by billowypants, obi-wan & padme (& anakin), 1.5k In the aftermath of her husband’s Fall, Padmé Amidala searches for peace. ✦ A Mountain Retreat by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin & bail antilles & ocs, eventual discipline, 4.2k wip Obi-Wan and his young Padawan, Anakin, go to stay with friends in the mountains of Alderaan. Anakin learns to love snow, and finds new ways to get himself into trouble. Mistakes are made and lessons are learned, and a lot of fun is had along the way. ✦ a journey to hope by CloudySkyWars, obi-wan & ahsoka & cody & cast, 6.5k It’s a big galaxy out there. Ahsoka searches for Obi-Wan after Order 66, and gets some help on the way. ✦ A Series of Chaotic Reports by Binouchetruc, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & yoda & dooku & qui-gon & cast, 5.5k wip This is a story where we share the suffering and delight of the Jedi Council through various reports of various Padawans through the years. ✦ Anakin’s Birthday by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin, 1.3k Anakin is about to celebrate his first birthday as a Jedi Padawan and Obi-Wan helps to make it special. Pure fluff. ✦ Not Much Has Changed, Except for Everything by hellowkatey, obi-wan & anakin, time travel, 4.4k Anakin is angry at Obi-Wan, and the Force decides to intervene by throwing him back in time. OBI-WAN/ANAKIN RECS: ✦ For Breakfast by Crowgirl, obi-wan/anakin, 2.6k The house by the lake is small, primitive compared with their Academy lodgings, but it’s also quiet, blissfully quiet and far away from anything that might turn into a battle or an ambush or a skirmish or even a brawl. ✦ Let me be that I am by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/anakin & cast, eventual NSFW, omegaverse, male pregnancy, 5.2k wip A year after the war is won and Sidious defeated, the galaxy limps on and recovers, though many find healing a difficult thing. Anakin most of all, until the impossible becomes possible, and he discovers something more terrifying than war, the unknown of what he thought he could never have. ✦ Satellite Mind by intermundia, septemberist, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 19.3k Five times Obi-Wan heard Anakin’s thoughts, and one time Anakin heard Obi-Wan’s. ✦ Significant Bother by obiwanobi, obi-wan/anakin & qui-gon, 4.8k wip Qui-Gon Jinn lives to train Anakin, and it somehow turns Anakin and Obi-Wan into lifelong enemies. It’s a shame they work so well together anyway. ✦ there is no heart for me like yours by RexIsMyCopilot, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 4.3k Anakin wasn’t even aware what he was doing, but everything Anakin did was turning Obi-Wan on like a switch. When they are finally alone, Obi-Wan makes sure he knows the effect he has on Obi-Wan. ✦ respect to speak, and trust by treescape, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, ~1k Or, after one too many acts of insolence in public, Obi-Wan sets a punishment. ✦ nothing compares to you by RagnarLothcat, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & rex & palpatine & mace & padme & yoda & cast, time loop, 30.2k wip Sometimes you only get one chance to make things right. But when you’re Anakin Skywalker, Chosen One, sometimes the Force intervenes to give you a second chance. Or a third. Or a fourth. ✦ pretty bird and the blanket thief by tennessoui, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & cody & rex, NSFW, modern au, d/s, read the tags, 14.5k A stupid, petty fight between stupid, petty people leads to Anakin banning sex for however long it takes to get Obi-Wan to see reason. Definitely telling Obi-Wan he can’t touch his own pretty bird is going to first of all, work, and second of all, end well for everyone involved. Sure. Totally. ✦ Run Away With Me by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, omegaverse, 8k Several months after their mating, Obi-Wan and Anakin have left the Jedi and the war to travel the galaxy. Busy nesting for his upcoming heat, Anakin has been complaining of a sense of danger in the Force, and his nightmares have been getting worse. Is it just pre-heat anxiety as Obi-Wan suspects, or something more sinister? ✦ to love is to burn, to be on fire by RexIsMyCopilot, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 5.8k Anakin and Obi-Wan attend the coronation of a queen on Naboo. Or: fancy clothes go on, fancy clothes come off. ✦ cute guy, fast car, i’m all yours by wanderlove, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, 7.3k In which Anakin saves a rich lawyer from a low-level Hutt enforcer and gets himself railed as a reward. ✦ à la carte by RagnarLothcat, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & mace & satine & quinlan & cast, NSFW, modern au, 13k Anakin Skywalker is a perfectly normal grad student. He spends his days at the robotics lab, his evenings working at an upscale restaurant and his weekends on inadvisable hookups. That is, until Obi-Wan Kenobi saunters into his workplace and sweeps him off his feet. ✦ immortal and divine by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, sith!obi-wan, sith!anakin, 4.3k In which Obi-Wan and Anakin fall to the dark and swear their allegiances to Sidious and Dooku.Obi-Wan hates the boy he blames his master’s death for,and he hates and hates and hates.But for the strangest reason that boy grows into a man,and never wavers in his allegiance to a Sith he might have called master. ✦ disobedience is a demand for change by RexIsMyCopilot, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, dom/sub, daddy kink, 4.5k Anakin acts like a brat for feeling guilty about something. Obi-Wan gives Anakin what he’s looking for. ✦ Lux Æterna by obiwanobi, obi-wan/anakin, author chose not to use warnings, 4k There is no braid in his hair, —there has never been a braid in his hair,— masters bow too low in front of him and padawans’ whispers are always louder when he’s close by. ✦ we’ll make it to the other side by beetlesacquired, obi-wan/anakin, nsfw, omegaverse, read the tags, 1.5k All he could think about was Anakin, the fear Anakin must’ve felt even as he masked it with anger, the worry that he’d been abandoned as a casualty of war, that Obi-Wan wasn’t coming for him. ✦ Prompted | Ventrobikin by intermundia, obi-wan/ventress & obi-wan/anakin & obi-wan/anakin/ventress, NSFW, 9.5k wip A collection of short smutty oneshots written in response to prompts :) ✦ deception: epilogue by RexIsMyCopilot, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 6.2k Anakin and Obi-Wan renew the physical part of their relationship after Rako Hardeen ✦ holy hands by Demi_Fae, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, omegaverse, 1.1k Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker love each other and always will, through a hundred lifetimes and a thousand years. ✦ Vows and Promises by lowstandards, obi-wan/anakin & padme & satine & quinlan/asajj & palpatine & cast, NSFW, modern au, 11.2k Or: the resulting AU of watching Four Weddings and a Funeral for the millionth time but there’s only one wedding and no funeral in this ✦ Fine Pearls & Bad Leather by SingManyFaces, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, bodyguard au, 1.6k Lord Kenobi spends the night in with the captain of his personal guard while abroad in the Lake Country. ✦ O Trespass Sweetly Urged by Artemis_Unbound, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 8.6k Anakin and Obi-Wan witness a sex ritual while on a mission. Obi-Wan doesn’t understand why Anakin is so scandalized by this, until Anakin admits that he’s never had sex. Obi-Wan…might need a minute to process that. ✦ touch of heaven with a wild side by Demi_Fae, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, sex pollen, 1.3k “That was one of the things we were able to figure out while you were…” Anakin gestured to Obi-Wan who nodded for him to continue. “You would have to ask Kix about the specifics, but it’s some sort of combination reproductive and defense feature, and at this point it’s basically orgasm or…” ✦ marks for excellence by treescape, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, professor!obi-wan, 2.1k Or, Anakin helps his husband, Professor Kenobi, with his grading. ✦ Snap, Crackle, Pop by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, spanking, 5.2k Several months into the Clones Wars, Anakin disobeys Obi-Wan’s orders during the Battle of Muunilinst and puts himself in grave danger. Returning to his Master, he finds him at his wits end. Obi-Wan asks if Anakin can think of any consequences that would actually work in teaching him a lesson, and is surprised by the answer. ✦ color me by Demi_Fae, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 2.5k Obi-Wan had never seen such a bright color, on himself or on anyone else. ✦ blue, for you by y0u_idjits, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 2.6k “What do you think?” he asks, a touch breathless. “Would it suit me?” Obi-Wan is utterly frozen. He swallows loudly and starts, “Anakin-” ✦ Prompted - Chapter 14: #BinGate by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, mild d/s, modern au, 3.9k Bake Off AU, judge/former contestant, light scolding kink. ✦ perks of promotion by treescape, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, professor!obi-wan, 2k Obi-Wan and Anakin celebrate Obi-Wan’s promotion. ✦ me and my man, we get on like a house on fire by tennessoui, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & cast, NSFW, modern au, 14.8k Obi-Wan had just wanted to relax in a nice bath, get away from the pressures of international stardom. Just for a night. A few hours. Too bad he accidentally starts a kitchen fire instead. REBELS RECS: ✦ Living memory. by outpastthemoat, kanan/hera & depa & ezra, 1.1k wip Kanan has been on the run for the majority of his life. And danger has become merely another tool he wields, as much as his blaster or saber. At night, Kanan examines his memories. ORIGINAL TRILOGY RECS: ✦ time and time and time again by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & anakin & leia & luke & cast, 9.6k “I know who you are,” she interrupts, staring at his hand suspiciously. “You’re Ben. Luke’s teacher.” He smiles at that. “I have had many titles, but…’Luke’s teacher’ is one I confess to being quite proud of.” ✦ Glimpses by SpyroTF, anakin & han, 1k When Vader steps aboard the Millennium Falcon for the first time, he doesn’t react the way Han expects him to. ✦ Paternal Relations by willowcrowned, obi-wan & anakin & luke, 1.2k Oh shit, Luke thinks, Vader is my dad’s ex-husband. ✦ Mouse Droids and How To Fix Them – A Quick And Easy Guide [Livestream] by loosingletters, luke & leia, 2.3k As the future Queen of Alderaan, Leia is under a lot of pressure and stress. So what if she stays up late to watch a farmboy mechanic fix a droid? FULL DETAILS + RECS HERE!

#obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #luke skywalker #obikin #fic recs #star wars fic recs #long post

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beifongsss · 4 years ago

Text

the boiling rock [zuko]

Pairing: Zuko x reader

Disclaimer!: The reader is Sokka and Katara’s older sister!

Requested?: Yes! By @thegirlwholikestomanythings: “ Hi! I have a Zuko x reader request if you don't mind. Maybe something like the reader being Katara and Sokka's older sister and Zuko having a big crush on her after he joins in S3?”

Summary: Sokka goes to break Hakoda out of The Boiling Rock and is shocked to find you there as well. He’s even more shocked when he figures out that Zuko’s a simp for you.

this is based off of the boiling rock episodes but there are a few changed made! there’s also like a pov change halfway i’m sorry. TIS A LONG ONE!!

.masterlist.

When Zuko defeated Combustion Man, Aang didn’t let him join the group until he gained approval from all of his friends.

“Toph, you're the one that Zuko burned. What do you think?”

The blind earthbender smirked, a sinister look on her face as she pounded her fist into her palm. “Go ahead and let him join. It'll give me plenty of time to get back at him for burning my feet.”

Satisfied with her answer, Aang turned to the Water Tribe boy. “Sokka?”

“Hey, all I want is to defeat the Fire Lord. If you think this is the way to do it, then, I'm all for it,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall near him.

“Katara?” Aang asked uncertainly, noticing the stony look on the Water Tribe girl’s face.

“I'll go along with whatever you think is right,” she replied, glaring at Zuko.

“Great!” Aang said, ignoring Katara’s reaction. “Then that’s settled. Welcome to the group Zuko!”

Zuko paused slightly, looking around as he noticed the absence of the other Water Tribe girl he had always seen with the Gaang.

“Not that I’m complaining,” the prince said, a questioning look in his eyes. “But isn’t there someone else you should be asking? Where’s the other Water Tribe girl?”

The group went silent at Zuko’s words as Katara’s face hardened and Sokka looked away, a sad expression making it’s way onto his face.

“She’s gone,” Sokka said roughly as he began to storm off.

Katara reached out for his arm, grabbing onto him as he passed her. “Sokka, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Not my fault?” Sokka roared, stray tears escaping his eyes as he faced Katara. “It was my invasion plan Katara! I should’ve taken the fall. Not her!”

He shrugged her hand off before walking off deeper into the Air Temple. Katara sent Zuko another glare before hurrying after her brother, leaving him alone with Aang and Toph. Zuko glanced at Aang uneasily, not wanting to ask about what had happened. With a sigh, Aang sat down looking at Zuko expectantly.

The prince sat down across from Aang as Toph sat to his left, the usually loud-mouthed girl abnormally quiet.

“The other Water Tribe girl that would travel with us is (Y/N),” Aang explained quietly. “She’s Sokka and Katara’s older sister.”

Zuko nodded in response before speaking. “W-What happened to her?”

“She got captured by the Fire Nation on the Day of Black Sun,” Aang replied, looking down at his lap. “You know about the invasion right?”

Zuko nodded once more.

“Well it was Sokka’s invasion plan,” Aang continued. Zuko’s eyebrows rose up in surprise, going unnoticed by Aang. “He came up with it and (Y/N) and Hakoda, that’s their dad, fine tuned it. They thought of everything that could possibly go wrong and when the day came, Sokka was the one leading it.”

Aang’s face suddenly turned into one full of guilt. “I-It was actually my fault that she got captured. If I hadn’t gotten distracted by Azula, we could’ve gotten away before the eclipse was over. Instead, they caught up to us before we could get back to the beach. Hakoda told us all to leave on Appa and to take the youngest members of the group but (Y/N) didn’t fit because we had Teo, Haru, and The Duke with us. So she decided to stay behind and take the blame for the invasion so that they wouldn’t go out and look for us. She said that they’d believe her because she was traveling with the Avatar and because she was the daughter of the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe and she had a reason to want to attack the Fire Nation.”

Aang couldn’t stop the tear that slipped out. “I guess she was right because we weren’t followed after we escaped.”

“C’mon Twinkletoes,” Toph said, leaning back on her hands. “(Y/N) knew what she was getting into. She’s not dumb. She’s strong, smart, and patient. In fact, I’m willing to bet she’s making those Fire Nation guard’s lives hell.”

Zuko observed Toph as she spoke about the missing Water Tribe girl. “How are you so sure?”

“Please,” Toph scoffed, cracking her knuckles. “She’s the only idiot here that can beat me in a fight. She’ll be fine.”

“Oh,” Zuko said, slightly surprised. “Is she a waterbender too?”

“Nope,” Toph said. “That’s how I know she’s okay. She can beat me in a fight, and I’m the greatest earthbender in the world! I invented metalbending.”

Zuko’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at Toph’s words. “She beat you without any bending?”

“She did,” Sokka’s voice rang out. The group (except Toph) turned around to find Sokka walking towards them. “Which is why we needed her here, not in prison. She shouldn’t be paying for my mistakes.”

Without another word Sokka climbed onto Appa, shooting Aang a look when the Air Nomad shot him a worried glance. “Don’t worry Aang. I’m just gonna clear my head. Yip yip.”

The conversation ended with Sokka’s departure and silently, Aang showed Zuko to his room.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” Sokka asked, catching Zuko’s attention as he handed him a cup of tea. Zuko set down the tea and followed Sokka to where he was standing, softly petting Appa when he opened his eyes to look at them.

“So, what’s up?” Zuko asked, looking back over at the group before focusing on Sokka.

“If someone was captured by the Fire Nation, where would they be taken?” the Water Tribe boy asked, trying to look nonchalant. At Zuko’s suspicious look, he spoke again. “When the invasion plan failed, some of our troops were taken. I just want to know where they might be.”

“We both know this is about your sister, Sokka,” Zuko replied. “I can’t tell you.”

“What? Why not?” Sokka asked, mildly irritated.

“Trust me,” Zuko said, turning to leave. “Knowing will just make you feel worse.”

“It’s not just about (Y/N)!” Sokka hissed, causing Zuko to stop in his tracks. “It’s my dad. He was captured too. I need to know what I put them through.”

“It’s not good Sokka,” the prince replied, not meeting his eyes.

“Please.”

Sighing deeply, Zuko gave in. “My guess is, they were taken to The Boiling Rock.”

“What’s that?”

“The highest security prison in the Fire Nation,” Zuko ignored Sokka’s horrified look. “It's on an island in the middle of a boiling lake. It's inescapable.”

“So,” Sokka said, trying to appear indifferent. “Where is this place?”

“Why do you need to know?” Zuko asked, eyes narrowing. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing!” Sokka tried reassuring the prince. “Boy, you’re so paranoid.”

Zuko rolled his eyes before replying. “It's in the middle of a volcano between here and the Fire Nation. You guys actually flew right past it on your way here.”

“Thanks Zuko,” Sokka said before letting out a very fake yawn as he stretched. “Just knowing makes me feel better.”

“Sure it does,” Zuko scoffed, watching the Water Tribe boy walk away. Noticing that everyone was getting ready to go to bed, he stealthily climbed up onto Appa’s saddle, gently shushing the sky bison when he once again opened his eyes.

At this moment, Zuko sort of regretted joining Sokka on his journey. After having successfully convinced him to take his war balloon instead of Appa, the two boys found themselves existing in awkward silence.

“Pretty clouds,” Sokka spoke first, slightly startling Zuko.

“Yeah...fluffy,” the Fire Nation prince replied before focusing on the fire again. Sokka began whistling casually, drawing Zuko’s attention. “What?”

“What?” Sokka asked, the awkwardness between the two boys palpable. “Oh, I didn't say anything. You know, a friend of mine actually designed these war balloons.”

“No kidding,” Zuko said with slight surprise.

“Yep. A balloon...but for war,” came the other boy’s reply.

“If there's one thing my dad's good at, it's war.”

“Yeah, it seems to run in the family.”

“Hey, hold on,” Zuko said, slightly offended. “Not everyone in my family is like that.”

“I know, I know,” Sokka replied, hands raised in defense. “You’ve changed.”

“I meant my uncle. He was more of a father to me. And I really let him down.”

“I think your uncle would be proud of you,” Sokka said, looking at Zuko intently. “Leaving your home to come help us? That's hard.”

“It wasn’t that hard.”

“Really?” Sokka asked in disbelief. “You didn't leave behind anyone you cared about?”

“Well I did have a girlfriend,” Zuko replied, smiling slightly. “Mai.”

“That gloomy girl who sighs a lot?” Sokka asked, trying to hold back his smile.

“Yeah. Everyone in the Fire Nation thinks I'm a traitor. I couldn't drag her into it,” Zuko explained before hesitating slightly. “Besides, I didn’t truly like her. Trust me, I know that sounds bad. When we were kids we liked each other, but we’re not kids anymore and we’ve both changed and things just weren’t working out.”

Sokka nodded in understanding before crossing his arms. “My first girlfriend turned into the moon.”

Zuko paused for a few seconds, looking up at the moon and wondering if Sokka was being serious before turning to him. “That’s rough buddy.”

Silence ensued again, the scene almost relaxing if it weren’t for the fact that the two of them were heading for the most high-security prison in the Fire Nation.

“So,” Zuko broke the silence, looking at Sokka uncertainly. “What happens if we get there and (Y/N) isn’t there?

The question caught Sokka off guard, causing him to scowl. “She will be.”

“But,” Zuko pressed, trying to make the boy understand. “What if she isn’t?

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Sokka replied, crossing his arms and looking away as he tried not to think about Zuko’s words.

“Why don’t you just wait until after Aang defeats my father to set everyone free?” Zuko asked softly. “You’d have a much better chance then.”

“You just don’t get it!” Sokka yelled, looking back at Zuko. “See you and your sister might not get along very well but (Y/N) is the most important person in my life. She was the one who took care of me and Katara after our mom died. She was the one who basically led our tribe after the men went off to fight. She always knew what to say and what to do. We need her Zuko. I need her, Katara needs her, Aang definitely needs her, heck even Toph needs her!”

Zuko stayed silent as he focused on the fire, giving Sokka a few minutes to calm down.

“You’re right Sokka,” he finally said. “I don’t get along with Azula. We’ll find her.”

Sokka didn’t reply, instead choosing to look up at the moon, hoping that he had made the right choice.

Soon enough, they had reached The Boiling Rock. Zuko followed after Sokka, a bit disgruntled at the fact that his war balloon had been destroyed. They had somehow managed to get guard uniforms and sneak into the prison, a feat Zuko found impressive considering that Sokka didn’t have a fully thought-out plan.

“I hope these disguises work,” Zuko hissed, shoving Sokka softly with his shoulder.

“We just need to lay low and find (Y/N) and my dad as soon as possible,” Sokka quietly replied, rubbing his shoulder. “Ow!”

“Guards!” another guard ran past Sokka and Zuko, causing them to flinch. “There’s a scuffle in the yard. Come on!”

The two boys exchanged looks before running after the guard, eventually coming to an open space where a guard was harassing a prisoner. The rest of the guards were trying to keep the other prisoners away from the confrontation. Sokka subtly tilted his head, motioning for Zuko to join the other guards. They split up slightly, trying to keep the crowd in control.

“I didn’t do anything,” the prisoner in the middle of the platform stated, walking away from the guard. “I’m going back to my cell.”

“Stop right there Chit Sang,” the guard said, sending a fire whip towards him. “I’ve had it with your unruly behavior.”

One of the prisoners Zuko was trying to hold back began to slip past him and he reached out to grab them. His eyes widened when he made eye contact with the girl, who then promptly proceeded to shove him off of her and onto the ground. Zuko stared at the girl, his heart speeding up slightly and his stomach lurching as she shot him a glare and marched right up to the guard who had created the fire whip.

“Leave him alone!” she growled, stepping in front of Chit Sang. The guard simply laughed before stepping forwards.

“What are you gonna do Water Tribe scum?”

Zuko flinched as Sokka swatted him, tilting his head towards the girl. “That’s her! That’s (Y/N)!”

Sokka grasped Zuko’s arm tightly, knowing that he couldn’t jump to his sister’s defense. The two of them watched in anticipation as the guard shot out a blast of fire, aiming it at you. Zuko’s eyes widened at the sight. You weren’t a bender, you were going to get burned.

His jaw dropped as you gracefully slid underneath the blast before coming up and swatting the guard’s hand away. When the guard tried to aim at you again, you swept your leg in a graceful arc, knocking him down. You were amazing.

“Cuff her!” the guard barked, embarrassment clear on his face as all the other prisoners cheered. Two of the other guards grabbed you roughly, cuffing your hands behind your back and shoving you roughly in front of the guard you had knocked down.

“You think you’re tough, don’t you?” the guard asked. You didn’t look at him.

“Look at me when I speak to you!” the guard screamed. The yard went silent as everyone waited to see what you would do. Slowly, you lifted your head and met the guard’s eyes. His face held a smug expression, which was soon wiped off when you leaned forward and spit in his face.

The yard went wild again, the guards struggling to keep the prisoners under control. The bully guard lunged forwards, gripping your face tightly in his hand. He stared you down for a few seconds before tossing you to the ground. Scowling, he turned to Sokka and Zuko, who seemed to be the only guards not busy at the moment. “You two! Take her to her cell.”

Sokka picked you up and Zuko led them inside, stealing glances at you as you walked. At one point Sokka caught his gaze, giving him a confused look before his eyes widened in realization. He looked between you and Zuko before glaring at the prince and shaking his head furiously. Zuko avoided his gaze after that. They found your cell quickly enough and Sokka softly pushed you in before stepping inside and pulling Zuko with him.

He took off your cuffs easily enough and you stepped away from him, rubbing your wrists gently.

“What do you want?” you snarled, eyes shifting from one guard to another.

“(Y/N)!” one of them cried out, moving towards you. You sidestepped quickly, grabbing his arm and shoving him up against the wall. He groaned in pain as you pulled his arm back.

“What do you want?” you hissed, not taking your eyes off of the other guard.

“(Y/N/N),” the one you were holding squeaked. “It’s me!”

Your eyes widened at the voice and you stepped back, still keeping your hand on the guard’s arm. “Sokka?”

Sokka used his free hand to take off his helmet, a large grin on his face as he turned to look at you. “Yes! It’s m-”

His words were cut off when you yanked on his arm, pulling him close to you as you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. Sokka melted into the hug, wrapping his arms around you tightly as he held tears back.

“Spirits,” you whispered, pulling back and looking at your baby brother. “Sokka what are you doing here? How did you get here?”

“Uh, we took my war balloon,” the other guard replied. You froze slightly at the familiar voice, turning to find Prince Zuko standing there, waving awkwardly.

“You,” you snarled, stomping up to the prince and pushing him up against the wall. You held your forearm against his throat, staring him down. Zuko didn’t do anything in return, a dazed smile on his face as he stared back at you.

“(Y/N) what are you doing?” Sokka yelped, placing a hand on your shoulder. You looked away from Zuko, glancing at your brother in disbelief.

“What do you mean? Have you forgotten that he’s tracked us all over the world? Or that he’s tried to kill us? Multiple times!” you glanced at Zuko again, noticing that he was still smiling. “Why are you smiling at me? Sokka, why is he smiling at me?”

Sokka snorted softly, the scene in front of him reminding him of the first time Aang had met him and Katara. Shooting a tired look at Zuko, he gently pulled you away from the scarred prince. “I don’t know why he’s smiling at you but I do know that he’s part of the team now, so lay off okay?”

You looked at him in disbelief before whirling around and facing Sokka. “Alright but that still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“We’re here to break you out?” Sokka said, rubbing the back of his neck as he turned his gaze to the floor.

“Seriously?” you hissed, stepping closer to him and causing him to stumble back. “This couldn’t have waited until after Aang defeated Ozai?”

“I told you so,” Zuko mumbled, shooting a pointed look at Sokka.

“Stay out of this,” you whisper-yelled, pushing him back up against the wall with one hand. “You have to leave. Both of you.“

“Well you see,” Sokka said, chuckling slightly as he met your gaze. “We can’t exactly do that.”

“Yes you can,” you replied, grabbing Sokka and proceeding to push the two boys towards the door. “Just get back on your little war balloon and leave.”

Zuko and Sokka exchanged nervous glances at the mention of the war balloon, causing you to narrow your eyes at them.

“Don’t say it.”

“It popped!” Sokka squealed, bouncing away from you as he noticed your expression. “But we’ll get out of here, and you’re coming with us.”

You couldn’t help but facepalm at your brother’s words.

The guards had only released you from your cell when it was your turn to do the cleaning. You hadn’t heard from Sokka since he had left you, and you were worried that he had gotten caught. You were so distracted by your thoughts that you didn’t notice the other prisoner who was mopping, resulting in you bumping into them and falling down.

“I’m sorry,” the other prisoner said, extending a hand to help you up. You glanced up, making eye contact with Zuko. Your eyes widened almost comically and you grabbed his hand, simultaneously pulling yourself up and pulling him closer to you.

“Where is my brother?” you asked as you leaned in close, panic in your voice as you whispered in his ear. Zuko tried to ignore the blush on his cheeks as your close proximity, focusing on your question.

“He’s fine,” he whispered back. “It was just me who got caught.”

You let his hand go, stepping back and nodding subtly before going back to mopping. Zuko stayed close to you, pretending to be focused on his mopping as he stole glances at you. Feeling his gaze, you looked up and arched an eyebrow as you made eye contact. The prince flushed when he realized he had been caught, looking back down before speaking.

“I-I never introduced myself,” he spoke softly. “I’m Zuko.”

“I know,” you replied flatly, walking further away from him. Zuko stood awkwardly for a moment before inching closer to you again.

“So you’re (Y/N),” he spoke again. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

You snorted at his words, your eyes not leaving the ground. “Yeah I’m sure it is.”

“You’re a really good fighter,” Zuko continued, still trying to make conversation. “Even back when I was still hunting the Avatar you were the one that I was most worried about holding off.”

“Good to know,” you said drily, finally looking up at Zuko. “Look, Sokka may trust you but I don’t, okay? First of all, you haven’t really done anything but cause trouble for us. Second of all, you actually brought my brother here. I appreciate the sentiment but I’m not exactly thrilled at the idea of my baby brother breaking into a Fire Nation prison.”

Zuko swallowed harshly, looking away. “I’m sorry. But he was really adamant about rescuing you and your dad and-”

“Wait,” you interrupted Zuko. ��I’m the only Water Tribe member here. My dad is still being held somewhere in the Fire Nation capital.”

Zuko’s eyes widened briefly before he composed himself. “Oh. Alright then I guess that means we can leave as soon as Sokka comes back to meet us.”

The two of you continued to mop in silence before someone suddenly grabbed your upper arm, causing you to stiffen and causing Zuko to get into a defensive stance.

“Calm down, it’s just me.”

“You really have to stop doing that Sokka,” you hissed, yanking your arm away from him. “Zuko told me about why you’re here. I hope you know we can leave now. Dad isn’t here.”

Sokka’s face fell briefly before he forced a smile onto his face. “He may not be but guess who is? Suki! Why didn’t you tell me she was here (Y/N)?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you whispered. “Maybe because I was too busy freaking out about the fact that my kid brother and the Fire Nation prince broke into prison and don’t have a way to get out!”

“Shh!” Sokka hissed, putting his hand over your mouth. “Be quiet! And I’m not your ‘kid brother’, you’re only a year older than I am.”

Zuko stayed quiet as the two of you stared each other down before Sokka let out a yelp and took his hand off your mouth. “Did you just lick me?”

You didn’t reply, a smirk on your face as you crossed your arms. Zuko stifled a laugh at the scene in front of him, coughing quietly when you shot a look at him. The three of you stood still as a new voice interrupted.

“So, what’s the plan?” Suki stood near you, hiding in the shadows that the staircase provided. You exchanged a glance with Sokka, nodding in encouragement.

“So, listen, I think I have an escape plan,” Sokka began, a little nervous at being in charge of the escape plan. “I checked out the coolers again, and the point of them is to keep firebenders contained, right?”

“Yeah,” Zuko replied, unsure as to where this was going.

“So, they're completely insulated and sealed to keep the cold in. Well, to keep the cold in, it also has to keep the heat out, right?”

Zuko and Suki exchanged confused looks before looking over at you, only to see you smiling widely as you caught on.

“Just get to the point Sokka,” Suki said, glancing around nervously.

“It's a perfect boat for getting through the boiling water!” you said, eyes sparkling as you looked at Sokka proudly. Despite the situation, Zuko found himself smiling at the sight of your smile.

“Sokka,” you said, leaning in close to your brother while keeping your eyes on Zuko. “He’s doing it again.”

Sokka scowled and smacked Zuko’s head, causing the boy to straighten up and ignore Suki’s smirk. “The cooler as a boat? Are you sure?”

“I’m telling you, it’ll work,” Sokka said, giving them each a serious glance. “I walked around the perimeter. There's a blind spot between two guard towers. It's the perfect launching point. I already tested it out. We'll roll the cooler into the water and just float with the current. It'll take us straight across. As long as we don't make a sound, no one will notice. And bing-bang-boom, we're home free.”

“But how are you going to get the cooler out?” Suki asked, a worried frown on her face.

“Yeah. How are you gonna get the cooler out?”

The four of you turned as Chit Sang landed next to you, causing Sokka and Zuko to stutter as they tried to tell Chit Sang that they weren’t planning anything. You rolled your eyes, stepping closer to Chit Sang before speaking. “That’s easy, isn’t it? We just need to get a firebender into the cooler.”

Sokka and Zuko gaped at you, shocked that you had given them away.

“Calm down,” you scoffed, patting Chit Sang’s back. “Chit Sang and I go way back. He’s the one who made all the other firebenders leave me alone.”

Chit Sang nodded before turning back to the group. “Look I won’t tell the warden about your plan if you let me come along.”

Sokka stared at you intently, the two of you having a silent conversation before turning back to the group. “Fine! But we need to get someone into the cooler.”

Sokka handed Zuko a wrench. “Here. You’re going to unbolt the cooler, from the inside.”

Zuko looked back at Sokka, confused. “How am I going to get in there?”

You grinned widely, patting Zuko’s chest as you walked past him. “I got this. Follow my lead.”

You picked up your mop, motioning for Zuko to do the same. You began mopping, casually walking around as you kept Zuko in your periphery. The prince didn’t dare look at you so he was caught by surprise when you bumped into him from behind.

“Hey!” you snapped, turning around and glaring at him. “Watch where you’re going.”

Zuko froze for a split second before realizing this was your plan. “You’re the one who bumped into me. How about you watch where you’re going?”

A smile played at the corner of your lips as you stared each other down. Zuko noticed and felt his cheeks grow warm as he tried to hold back a smile of his own. The two of you stood there for a few seconds, staring at each other until Sokka coughed loudly.

Tearing your eyes away from the prince, you lunged at him. He easily dodged your swing before throwing a halfhearted punch back at you. You rolled your eyes as you kicked at him, losing your balance slightly as he swatted your leg away. You recovered quickly and threw another punch, a soft gasp leaving your mouth when he grasped your wrist and twirled you around, your back pressed against his chest as his arm held you tightly in place.

You struggled for a moment, sighing in defeat when you realized just how strong he was. You tilted your head back slightly, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered into it. “You have to firebend at me Zuko.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he mumbled back, causing you to roll your eyes again.

“I’m a big girl. I can handle myself,” you replied. With a grunt, you elbowed him in the stomach. He let out a soft ‘oof’ and you took that chance to break out of his hold. You dropped down and spun, your leg outstretched as you tried to knock him down. He jumped over your leg easily before shooting out a blast of fire at you. He held his breath for a second, sighing in relief as he noticed you roll out of the way.

“No firebending!” a guard shouted, roughly grabbing Zuko from behind. You sent him a soft smile, receiving a smirk in return. As he was led away, Suki came up to you, a big smile on her face.

“So,” she said, her tone teasing. “What was that?”

“Yeah (Y/N),” Sokka said, crossing his arms as he came up to you. “What was that?”

You rolled your eyes before walking past the two of them. “It was a fight.”

“That’s not what it looked like from my point of view,” Suki called out after you, causing Sokka to send a glare at her. You simply chuckled at her words.

“(Y/N)?”

You stood up from the floor of your cell, looking at Sokka as he stood outside your cell. “Yeah?”

“It’s time.”

Sokka opened your cell and threw you a guard’s uniform before quickly closing the door and allowing you to change. When you were done, you knocked on the door three times, fixing your helmet as you waited for him to open the door.

Together, the two of you made your way towards the cooler, trying to avoid any guards on your way.

You opened the door to the cooler, a small frown making its way onto your face when you noticed that Zuko was shivering.

“I can take you back to your cell if you’ve learned your lesson,” Sokka said, looking way too smug. You rolled our eyes and focused on Zuko as he looked up at the two of you. His eyes met yours as he let out a breath of fire, his shivering stopping completely. He sent you a cocky smirk and you ignored the flopping you felt in your stomach at the sight of it. (A/N: y’all know what smirk i’m talkin bout)

“Yes I have,” he breathed, showing you both all the bolts and screws he had removed. “Completely.”

“I got Suki and Chit Sang out of their cells a few minutes ago,” Sokka whispered. “They'll be waiting for us at the shore.”

“Someone’s coming!” you whisper yelled, letting out a small yelp when you were pulled into the cooler. The three of you barely fit into the cooler but that didn’t make it any less cold. Even though you had grown up in the South Pole, you found yourself shivering at the temperature, your breath coming out in icy clouds.

Zuko glanced down at you, a frown appearing on his face as he noticed you shivering. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around you, bringing you in close as your expression changed into a bewildered one. You opened your mouth to say something, but quickly shut it when you realized just how warm he was. Sokka, unfortunately, didn’t stay quiet at the scene playing out in front of him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he screeched quietly, trying to pry the two of you apart. You quickly pushed him away.

“Sokka, shut up,” you mumbled as you wrapped your arms around Zuko, your teeth still chattering. “He’s warm and I’m freezing.”

Sokka’s jaw dropped as you casually buried your face into Zuko’s chest, a content sigh escaping you as you got warmer by the second. Sokka stayed quiet as the voices outside got closer, instead miming a throat slitting motion as he stared Zuko down, causing the prince to swallow harshly.

“...Yeah. new arrivals coming in at dawn,” a male voice sounded, catching your attention.

“Anybody interesting?” a female voice asked in reply.

“Nah, just the usual. Some robbers, a couple traitors, some war prisoners,” you and Sokka exchanged a disbelieving look. “Though I did hear there might be a pirate.”

“No fooling!”

The voices faded as they walked away and you all took that chance to leave the cooler.

“War prisoners,” Zuko stated, his eyes not leaving Sokka’s. “Could be your father.”

“I know.”

“Well, what should we do?” Zuko asked. “Are we going ahead with the plan or are we waiting another night?”

“I don't know!” Sokka cried out, looking distraught. “Is it right for me to risk Suki and (Y/N)’s freedom, all of our freedom, on the slim chance that my dad is gonna show up?”

You stayed quiet, not knowing what to say.

“It’s your call Sokka,” Zuko finally said, trying to let the other boy know he was there for him.

Sokka thought about it for a moment, eyes focused on the ground. After a few seconds he looked up and scowled, crossing his arms as he glared at you. “You can let go of him now (Y/N).”

A bright blush erupted on your cheeks as you looked at Zuko, an embarrassed expression spreading across your face as you realized you were still holding onto each other. You stepped away from him quickly, clearing your throat as you did so.

The three of you had somehow managed to get the cooler down to the shore, not that it mattered considering the fact that Chit Sang had just taken your only means of escape. It wasn’t his fault really; it was you and Sokka who had been extremely hesitant to leave, not wanting to risk the chance of your dad being on the gondola the next morning.

Suki and Zuko had stayed behind with you, the four of you waiting in the blind spot for the gondola to arrive. It had almost been light out when alarms were set off, causing all of you to whip your heads to where the cooler had been floating off.

“The plan failed!” Sokka said sadly. “They got caught.”

“I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t go along with them huh?” you said, earning a dull look from your brother.

“The gondola's moving,” Sokka said suddenly, grasping your hand. “This is it. If my dad's not there, we've risked everything for nothing.”

“We had to,” you whispered back, squeezing his hand. The four of you now stood in the yard as you waited in anticipation, looking up as the gondola doors opened.

“Is that him?” Zuko asked as the first prisoner got out.

“My dad doesn’t have a nose ring!” both you and Sokka exclaimed, looking at the prince weirdly. More men came off the gondola, both you and Sokka shaking with anxiety as you kept an eye out for Hakoda.

“Where is he?” Sokka asked as the last man stepped off. “Is that it? That can’t be it.”

“I’m sorry,” Suki whispered, rubbing both of your backs.

“Hey you!” the guard called out, drawing your attention. “Get off the gondola.”

You waited with bated breath for the last person to emerge, your hand tightening around Sokka’s and causing him to wince. Your eyes widened as you watched the final prisoner get off, dark jaw-length hair surrounding a face that held tired blue eyes. You immediately turned to Sokka, tears threatening to spill.

“Sokka,” you whispered. “It’s dad.”

You had been pacing back and forth worriedly ever since Sokka had gone to join the other guards and quite frankly, both Suki and Zuko were tired of it.

“Please just stand still (Y/N),” Suki said, gently reaching out and grabbing you. “If something was wrong, we would’ve heard it already. Your brother isn’t exactly the quietest.”

You nodded in agreement and sat down, nervously biting your lip as you waited for Sokka to return. You barely flinched as Zuko sat next to you, Suki giving him a knowing glance as she wandered off slowly.

“Look,” he began, staring straight ahead. “I know you don’t like me, but I need to tell you this okay? As much as you can’t help but worry, you shouldn’t. Sokka’s smart and he knows what he’s doing...sort of.”

He chuckled at the halfhearted glare you directed at him. “I’m kidding. But really, Sokka’s smart and brave and he was so set on coming up here and breaking you out and I know he’s going to do it because he has heart. Plus he has you helping him out. So stop worrying so much okay? Also, never repeat any of what I just said to him”

You snorted at Zuko’s words before bumping his shoulder with your. “Thanks Zuko. You know what? Maybe you’re not as bad as I thought.”

The prince’s eyes widened in shock and he smiled down at you, blushing slightly when you smiled back. Your moment was ruined when Sokka came sprinting back, causing Suki to join you as well.

“(Y/N), c’mon! I found him,” Sokka exclaimed. Without another word, he grabbed your arm and dragged you away from the group. A wide smile was on his face and you felt yourself smile as well when you came to a stop in front of a cell.

Sokka slid the door open, looking around before ducking inside and draging you with him. “Thank goodness you’re okay!”

“Oh you’ll see just how ‘okay’ I am,” Hakoda replied, swinging at what he believed to be a guard. You stepped in front of Sokka before pushing Hakoda’s arm out of the way, ducking under it and pushing him softly before pulling Sokka out of the way.

Hakoda’s eyes widened at the familiar movements,searching the faces of the two guards standing before him. “Sokka? (Y/N)?”

"Dad!” you cried out in unison with Sokka, the two of you removing your masks as you smiled at Hakoda. His eyes filled with tears as he brought you into a hug and you couldn’t help but let a few tears slip as well.

“Where’s Katara? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine dad,” you said, tightening your hold on Hakoda. “She’s not here.”

“Where’s Bato?” Sokka asked, pulling away. “Where’s everyone else from the invasion?”

“The others are being held at a prison near the Fire Nation palace,” Hakoda replied. “They sent me here because I kept being difficult after they singled (Y/N) out as the leader and sent her here. But before I left, I met some young women who said they knew you. The...Oshinama Fighters? ”

“You mean the Kyoshi Warriors?” you asked.

“That’s right.”

“Their leader Suki is here,” Sokka said, a blush visible on his face. “She’s gonna escape with us too!”

“Good. We'll need all the help we can get.”

“And you know Prince Zuko?” Sokka asked, getting excited at the thought of finally leaving.

“The son of the Fire Lord?” Hakoda asked hesitantly. “I don't know him, but I know of him.”

"Well he’s here too!” Sokka exclaimed.

“That sounds like a major problem,” Hakoda replied, crossing his arms as his face hardened.

“Actually,” Sokka said, smiling nervously. “He’s on our side now.”

Hakoda shot him a disbelieving look, causing you to step in.

“I had the same reaction dad,” you said, putting a hand on Hakoda’s shoulder. “But he really has changed. He came here with Soka to break me out. He’s been a big help.”

Hakoda’s face softened at your words. You had always been a good judge of character, so if you approved of the prince, then he did too. “So, do you have a plan?”

“We had one,” Sokka said, looking down sadly. “But some of the other prisoners got involved and ruined it. I dunno if there's another way off this island.”

“Sokka, there's no prison in the world that can hold three Water Tribe geniuses.”

“Then I guess we’d better find two more to help me plan something,” you teased, making Hakoda laugh and earning a dull look from Sokka.

You sprinted towards the yard, having been distracted by another guard for a few minutes before all the prisoners had been let out. When you reached your dad, Suki, and Sokka, you were surprised to see Chit Sang speaking with them.

“Hey you! You're lucky I didn't rat you out,” Chit Sang said, staring Sokka down. “But my generosity comes with a price. I know you're planning another escape attempt, and I want in.”

You nodded at Sokka, telling him to go along with it. He sighed softly before facing Chit Sang. “Actually, we're trying to escape right now, but we need a riot. You wouldn't happen to know how to start one, would you?”

“You seriously couldn’t start a prison riot?” you asked in disbelief, looking at the three of them in disappointment. “C’mon Chit Sang, let’s show them how it’s done.”

The two of you stepped forwards, Chit Sang picking up another prisoner as you strutted up to one of them.

“Hey everybody!” you yelled, the yard going quiet as you spoke. Without hesitation, you punched the prisoner closest to you. “Riot!”

The yard exploded into chaos as people began fighting and throwing stuff around. You quickly fought off the prisoner that you had punched before returning to your friends.

“Impressive,” Hakoda said, looking around at all the chaos.

You turned and swung as you felt someone bump into you, the person letting out a loud grunt as your fist met their face. Your jaw dropped as your eyes met piercing gold ones, your hands coming up to your face in slight horror as you realized that you had just punched Zuko.

“Yep,” he said, clutching his face. “I probably deserved that after everything I’ve done to you.”

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out in between giggles, earning a smile from the prince.

“Zuko! Good, we’re all here,” Sokka said, drawing you all into a huddle. “Now all we need to do is grab the warden, and get to the gondolas!”

“And how do we do that?” Zuko asked.

Sokka hesitated for a few seconds. “I’m not sure.”

Zuko groaned, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I thought you thought this through!”

“I thought you told me it's okay not to think everything through”

“Maybe not everything, but this is kind of important!” Zuko cried out.

“Hey fella,” Chit Sang interrupted, tapping Zuko’s shoulder before pointing at you. “I think your girlfriend’s taking care of it.”

“You’re dating my daughter?” Hakoda asked, glaring at Zuko.

“W-What? No!” Zuko cried out, slightly fearful of the Water Tribe Chief.

“Damn right you’re not,“ Sokka said, crossing his arms before Chit Sang spun him around.

“Your girlfriend too buddy.”

All four males went silent as they observed both you and Suki. You swiftly made your way up the tower, effortlessly taking guards down as you inched towards the warden. Suki took a stance at the base of the tower, fighting off any other guards who attempted to rush to the warden’s rescue. She was a truly impressive sight, her training as a Kyoshi Warrior shining through as she took down every guard that came at her effortlessly. Sokka stood a few yards away, awestruck at the sight in front of him.

Meanwhile, you had successfully made your way up to the top of the tower. You made quick work of the remaining guards before finally facing the warden.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he snarled, getting into a defensive position.

“Watch me,” you quipped, lunging at him. You avoided his punch, grabbing his wrist and spinning him around before shoving him up against the railing. You grabbed his sash, tying his hands before knocking him down and making sure he was tied securely before smiling over at your dad. “You’re my prisoner now warden.”

Down in the yard, Hakoda, Zuko, and Chit Sang all stared at you in awe, Sokka still focused on Suki.

“That’s my girl,” Hakoda stated, a proud look on his face as he looked up at you.

“Do you think she’d want to be my girl?” Zuko muttered dazedly, unintentionally speaking louder than he meant to. When he realized what he had said, he looked up in embarrassment, being met with an amused glance from Chit Sang, a harsh scowl from Hakoda, and a sharp slap from Sokka.

“Shut up!” Sokka hissed before grabbing Zuko’s arm and rushing to join you and Suki.

You all ran to the gondola, making sure that the warden was still tied up as you dragged him with you.

“We’re almost there!” Suki cried out.

“Spoke too soon,” you groaned as a group of guards came across your path, immediately sending two blasts of fire at you. You yelped as Zuko pulled you out of the way before stepping in front of you and dissipating the blasts. He sent a series of blasts back at them before grabbing the warden from you.

“Back off! We've got the warden!“ he shouted, successfully stopping the guards. When they didn’t make any movements he grabbed your hand and tugged you along. “Let's go”

Suki was the first to make it to the gondola, holding the door open for everyone else. “Everyone in!”

You all clambered on and you glanced around, realizing that someone was missing.

“Zuko!” you yelled, looking back at the prince. He started the gondola and you felt yourself panic as the guards closed in on him. “What are you doing? Hurry up!”

“I’m making it so that they can’t stop us!” With a few kicks, Zuko managed to break the lever that controlled the gondola before sprinting towards you. You leaned out of the door slightly, watching him in anticipation.

“C’mon Zuko,” you whispered to yourself, biting your lip as the gondola left the platform, now hanging freely. Zuko sped up and jumped, his feet landing on the edge of the gondola. He wobbled for a bit before you grasped his arm, fully pulling him into the gondola and into your arms. Zuko looked at you in confusion before wrapping his arms around you as well.

“Are you sure they’re not dating?” Hakoda asked, his voice quiet as he addressed Sokka. Sokka sent Zuko a menacing glare, the scarred prince gulping and loosening his hold on you when he noticed.

“What were you thinking?” you cried out, finally pulling away from Zuko and slapping his head.

“Ow!” Zuko hissed, rubbing the spot you had hit. “I was thinking ‘let me get rid of this lever real quick so that they don’t catch us’.”

“You could’ve gotten captured!” you yelled at him, taking a step towards him.

“Way to think ahead,” Sokka commented, saving Zuko from another slap.

“We’re finally on our way.” Suki sighed, sharing a soft smile with Sokka.

“Wait,” Hakoda said, leaning out of the window. “Who’s that?”

You leaned out of the window on the other side of the gondola, resisting the urge to blush as you felt Zuko’s chest press up against your back as he tried to get a good look at the platform.

“That’s a problem,” Zuko groaned. “It’s my sister and her friend.”

“This is a rematch I’ve been waiting for,” Suki growled, cracking her knuckles.

“Get in line,” you scoffed, your eyes narrowing as you watched the princess approach. You climbed out of the gondola and onto the roof, being followed by Sokka, Suki, and Zuko.

Suki and Sokka turned to face Ty Lee as she landed onto the roof gracefully, quickly becoming preoccupied with the chi-blocker. You carefully observed Azula as she landed a few feet away from you, staring you down as she stalked closer.

“Well, well, well,” she spoke, her voice taunting. “If it isn’t the Water Tribe scum.”

“Don’t speak to her like that,” Zuko barked, stepping slightly in front of you.

“Aww, does Zuzu have a little crush?” Azula teased, pouting as she shifted her gaze to Zuko. “Snap out of it Zuko. We raided her village multiple times. She’ll never see you as anything other than a monster.”

“Still not over what your mother used to say about you huh?” you shot back, missing the hurt look in Azula’s eyes as she shot lightning at you. You swiftly dodged the blast and ran at her, sliding onto the ground when she let out another blast.

Zuko watched as you stood up, landing a solid hit on his sister before bouncing back and dodging the hit she sent your way. He tried to find an opening to attack Azula but eventually gave up for fear of hurting you. Instead he chose to jump into the fight and wipe out the blasts Azula kept sending at you, even if you were expertly dodging them.

Azula soon grew tired of the fight, and knowing that she couldn’t beat you in the moment decided to send a blast of fire at Zuko. She caught him off guard and although he managed to wipe out the blast, he ended up tumbling back and landing dangerously close to the gondola’s edge.

“Zuko!” you yelled, momentarily distracted from the fight. Azula took this chance to kick you down, punching you before kicking you once more when you tried to scramble to your feet. You were sent stumbling against the metal handle that attached the gondola to the cable, gasping in pain as you crashed against it. She grinned widely when your head hit the metal.

You blew your hair out of your face, wincing as you reached up to touch the sore spot on your head and sighing when you noticed the blood on your fingertips.

“You have nowhere to go,” Azula stated, stalking towards you. Blue fire danced at her fingertips, her eyes hungry with anticipation as you struggled to stand. “Such a shame, you could’ve been a great asset to me.”

“I would rather die than join you,” you shot back, finally managing to stand up.

“Fine,” Azula spat, the fire growing as she narrowed her eyes. “Have it your way.”

You closed your eyes and braced yourself, knowing that you were in no shape to block her attack. You felt the heat approaching before it disappeared. Opening your eyes, you gasped softly as you saw Zuko standing in front of you. He sent blasts of fire back at Azula before the gondola swung dangerously, sending them both stumbling.

“They’re about to cut the line!” Ty Lee shouted at Azula.

“Then it’s time to leave,” the princess smirked. “Goodbye Zuko.”

Azula blasted away as Ty Lee backflipped gracefully onto the other gondola. Zuko glared at Azula briefly before rushing to your side, reaching down and gently picking you up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his face twisting with concern as you stumbled.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Just peachy.”

You tried to walk on your own only to stumble once more and fall right into Zuko’s arms. You shook your head slightly, trying to walk off once more.

“(Y/N), stop,” Zuko said, scooping your legs up and fully carrying you.

“P-Put me down!” you yelled, drawing Sokka and Suki’s attention.

“Hey! Put her down,” Sokka cried, rushing over to your side. He was stopped when the gondola swayed again.

“Stop struggling,” Zuko hissed, tightening his grip on you. “You can’t walk without stumbling. You probably have a concussion.”

You pouted but stayed silent, knowing that the prince was right. Carefully, he made his way over to the edge of the gondola, noticing that Hakoda was leaning out of the window. Carefully, he handed you down to him, making sure that you were safely inside before swinging himself in as well. Sokka and Suki quickly followed.

“They’re cutting the line,” Zuko stated, exchanging glances with everyone else. “The gondola’s about to go!”

“I hope this thing floats,” Hakoda said, fussing over your head wound as you tried to push him away.

“Hey!” you suddenly cried as the gondola began to move. You glanced out the window. “Who’s that?”

“That’s Mai!” Zuko exclaimed, his eyebrows furrowing as he observed her fighting with the guards.

The gondola made it to the other side without any other mishaps. When you got there, Zuko carefully picked you up once again, making his way out of the gondola. Sokka kept his gaze on him, only looking away when he felt Suki grab his hand. She shook her head at him before looking at you and Zuko. “Calm down. There are worse people she could be with.”

Sokka rolled his eyes at her words before trailing after Zuko, a barely visible smile appearing on his face as he noticed how Zuko was fussing over you as well. Hakoda and Chit Sang tossed the warden back into the gondola before joining the group. They all walked for a while before Zuko paused, standing on the cliff that was overlooking the rest of the volcano.

“What’s wrong Zuko?” you asked quietly, your eyes not leaving his face as he scanned the landscape in front of him. At this point, everyone else had backtracked to where you were standing.

“My sister was on that island,” was his only response.

“Yeah, and she's probably right behind us, so let's not stop!” Sokka said, trying to convince Zuko to keep moving.

“What I mean is she must have come here somehow,” he replied, his eyes still looking around.

“There!” you exclaimed, pointing at a large airship. “That's our way out of here!“

The six of you all managed to make it to the airship quickly enough and Zuko quickly lit the fire and guided it away from The Boiling Rock. The atmosphere was lively as everyone tried to catch up with each other, the excitement from the day eventually leaving everyone as the sun began setting. One by one, everyone fell asleep until it was just you and Zuko awake.

You had been looking around the ship, smirking in victory when you found a first aid kit. Silently you wandered out to where Zuko was, trying not to startle him.

“Long night?” you asked, leaning on the wall next to him.

“Someone has to keep the fire going,” he retorted, a faint smile present on his handsome face.

“Can you help me?” you asked quietly, meeting his eyes as he turned to face you. He nodded and you handed him the first aid kit before sitting down in front of him. You flinched slightly as his hand grabbed your jaw, closing your eyes as you reveled in his touch, remaining oblivious to the way his heart was racing at the close proximity. His touch was feather light in comparison to the guard who had grasped your jaw in a similar way back at the Boiling Rock. You snorted softly as you recalled the incident that had taken place a mere day ago; it seemed like it had happened ages ago.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko whispered, tilting your head to get better access to the cut on your head.

“It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt,” you murmured back, eyes still closed.

“Not about that,” Zuko replied, cleaning the wound as best as he could with the supplies you had given him. You hissed softly as he tried to place the bandage on, breathing deeply to try and ignore the pain. “I’m sorry about everything. I’m sorry for hunting the Avatar down and chasing you all around the world. I’m sorry about your mother. I’m sorry for the raids that tore your village apart. I’m sorry that I kept causing you harm even when I had the chance to do good.”

You opened your eyes at his words, reaching up and gently grabbing his hand to bring his attention to you. He could’ve sworn his heart skipped a beat. You stared at him in silence, his golden eyes never leaving yours even as he fidgeted uncomfortably under your gaze. Your face softened as you realized just how full of guilt Zuko really was, your heart aching as you realized that you couldn’t spend any more time hating him. Not when he had already done so much to try and make up for his mistakes.

“No Zuko,” you finally spoke, guiding him to take a seat in front of you. “I’m sorry for being so harsh towards you. You did more than enough to prove that you aren’t the same bratty prince you were when we first met but I wasn’t willing to look past the fact that you were once our enemy. You left the Fire Nation to help Aang and I can’t imagine how hard that was-”

“Trust me,” Zuko interjected, laughing humorlessly. “It wasn’t that hard. My father and sister are horrible people.”

“Still,” you said, leaning in a bit. “They’re your family. Betraying your family isn’t easy, even if you don’t get along with them.”

Silence ensued as Zuko stood up and carefully finished bandaging your cut. He took his seat in front of you once more, watching the fire as you watched him.

“What?” Zuko asked, his cheeks heating up he realized that you were still staring at him.

“Thank you Zuko,” you stated, finally looking away from the golden-eyed boy.

“Don’t thank me,” Zuko replied. “It was Sokka’s idea to break you out.”

“I mean for saving me from Azula,” you whispered, looking back up at him. “She really had me backed into a corner.”

“I wasn’t going to let her hurt you,” Zuko stated, staring into your eyes. “Sokka would’ve killed me if we came all this way just to lose you to her.”

You giggled at his words, causing him to smirk in satisfaction as he realized that he had made you laugh. “He would’ve, wouldn’t he?”

There was another silence before you spoke up again. “In all seriousness, thank you. I never thought that I’d be calling Prince Zuko my hero.”

Zuko gulped as he realized just how close the two of you were. Neither of you made a move to back away and you flushed when you caught yourself glancing at the prince’s lips.

You blushed harder when you realized he had caught you in the act.

“Zuko,” you whispered, squeaking softly when said boy leaned forwards and connected his lips with yours. The kiss was soft and hesitant, with both of you holding your breath as you realized you were kissing each other.

Pulling away, Zuko’s eyes widened. “Oh spirits. I-I’m sorry. I can’t believe I just did th-”

You cut Zuko’s apology off with another kiss, this one a little less awkward. His hand came up and grabbed your waist, pulling you a little closer as his other hand cupped your cheek. Your hand came up to grab his forearm, your brain trying to comprehend the fact that you were kissing Zuko and wondering how in the world he was such a good kisser.

“I thought you said you weren’t dating my daughter.”

The two of you flew apart as you heard Hakoda’s voice.

“D-Dad!” you exclaimed. “We weren’t- I wasn’t-”

Hakoda held up a hand to stop your stuttering. “It doesn’t matter. He risked his life to help your brother break you out of prison which means he’s good in my books. Just please don’t kiss in front of me. And maybe don’t let Sokka find out about this just yet. Good night.”

You turned to Zuko in embarrassment as Hakoda walked away, making eye contact with him before the two of you dissolved into laughter.

“Well that’s one way to get the parent’s approval,” you muttered, smiling at Zuko as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into him.

The two of you spent the rest of the night awake, talking about everything and nothing, stargazing as Zuko kept the flame alive.

“You know, I used to know the moon spirit when she was alive,” you said smugly, glancing up at Zuko as he smiled widely at you.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah! In fact, she was Sokka’s first girlfriend.”

Zuko smiled and pressed another kiss to your lips, smiling softly when he felt your hand come up to his chest.

And in that moment, Zuko knew he had made the right decision by deciding to join the Avatar. After all, if he hadn’t then why would the universe have chosen to reward him with something as amazing as you.

taglist!

@musicalkeys, @mywigglybaby, @bubblebars, @iguessthefloorislava

7K notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt 1) NMJ is the son of the concubine, NHS is the son of the legal wife, who had difficulty conceiving because of an old night hunting injury, and picked out a concubine for her husband who was big and strong and healthy as on ox - the strength got passed on, her more even temperament didn't. The legal wife conceived later, with much difficulty and they weren't entirely sure NHS would live at first

ao3

“Are you well?” Nie Mingjue asked Jin Guangyao, his voice stiff, and Jin Guangyao looked at him sidelong, surprised by the question, as well as the fact that Nie Mingjue was talking to him at all.

Normally, he would assume that Nie Mingjue was doing it because Lan Xichen was encouraging him to get along with Jin Guangyao again, but Lan Xichen was in the Cloud Recesses, had been in the Cloud Recesses for quite some time. Officially, he was helping oversee the rebuilding; unofficially he was caring for his brother, who had officially entered seclusion and unofficially was healing from a punishment so grievously terrible that Jin Guangyao was reminded all over again why one could not trust the righteous facades of the wealthy and powerful Great Sects.

Not that he needed much reminding, here in Jinlin Tower…

At any rate, Lan Xichen couldn’t be the reason Nie Mingjue was asking Jin Guangyao about his well-being, and that meant that his stern, grim-faced oldest sworn brother was doing it on his own, for reasons of his own.

Naturally, Jin Guangyao mistrusted that even more.

“Of course, da-ge,” he said with a practiced smile. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, somehow, impossibly, even stiffer than before. “No, I just – I meant – with Jin Zixuan’s death. It must have made it – hard. Here. For you.”

That was a staggeringly perceptive insight, and the fact that it came from Nie Mingjue, who thought ignoring rumors until they went away was a valid strategy, was something of an uncomfortable surprise. Even Lan Xichen hadn’t really thought of Jin Guangyao in the aftermath of Jin Zixuan’s death and the ensuing calamity, with the Nightless City and Wei Wuxian’s final downfall and everything with Lan Wangji taking away his attention; at best, he’d penned a careless letter belatedly expressing that he was sad that Jin Guangyao hadn’t had more of an opportunity to get to know Jin Zixuan better before his untimely demise.

Not even Su She had said anything, taking Jin Zixuan’s death as an unmitigated good – an obstacle out of their way, and nothing more. Easy enough for him to think as sect leader of his own sect, however small.

Not so easy for Jin Guangyao.

Not so easy when Madame Jin’s dislike of him had turned to full-blown maddened hatred, when his father looked at him like filth on his shoe, when they wouldn’t let him anywhere near Jin Ling as if his mere touch were some sort of toxic poison…

“…thank you,” he said cautiously. “I’ve been doing fine.”

Nie Mingjue jerked his head in a nod. “Avoid the sect elders for a time,” he said, and when Jin Guangyao looked at him, he was staring straight ahead, not looking at him at all. “Be careful with what you eat and drink. Some people don’t like to take chances.”

Was Nie Mingjue – Nie Mingjue – warning him about a possible assassination attempt? The man who had barely consented to using spies during wartime, who thought politics could be conducted through above-board dealings, who thought bribery and blackmail were unacceptable crimes? Him?

The world had truly turned upside down.

“I’ll be careful,” Jin Guangyao said, and found to his embarrassment that his tone had unconsciously softened, revealing the sudden fondness he was feeling for no good reason. He could rationalize it as a deliberate move, because allowing Nie Mingjue to do him a favor and sounding touched about it was a good way to get closer to him, to get back through those iron defenses of his. The problem was that it wasn’t a stratagem, not really, and that was dangerous.

Nie Mingjue nodded again, and Jin Guangyao expected him to move on – he and Nie Mingjue might be sworn brothers, but they didn’t chat – but he didn’t. He lingered, instead, clearly wanting to say something, something he was chewing over and not quite able to spit out.

Unusual, for someone who normally prided himself on being straightforward and direct.

“Is there something else?” Jin Guangyao eventually asked when Nie Mingjue didn’t seem to be actually making any progress towards saying anything.

Nie Mingjue grimaced and took a step – off to the side, to a corner of the path that was a little more secluded than most. Interestingly, he didn’t make the amateur mistake of going for one of the obviously secluded alcoves, which of course had all sorts of hiding-holes for eavesdroppers, but rather ended up in one of the few areas where the architecture created a natural dead space for sound.

Intrigued, Jin Guangyao followed him there.

Once they were there, Nie Mingjue still looked awkward – he was still refusing to look directly at Jin Guangyao, as if they wouldn’t be talking in hushed tones in a secluded corner if he didn’t admit that that was what they were doing – but finally said, “Would it help or hurt if I said anything?”

Jin Guangyao frowned a little, not following. “Said anything?”

“About the inheritance,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangyao’s eyes widened. “You’re the only recognized son left; you ought to be named heir until Jin Ling is full grown. But that doesn’t mean people will let that happen so easily.”

Jin Guangyao would have been less surprised if Wen Ruohan had spontaneously resurrected himself from the dead and performed a brothel fan dance on the front lawn of Jinlin Tower.

It had not even remotely entered his calculations that Nie Mingjue would be anything but an obstacle to his ambitions for power over the Lanling Jin sect – at best, he had hoped only that Nie Mingjue would be convinced that Jin Zixuan’s death was wholly Wei Wuxian’s fault and not find some way to blame Jin Guangyao for it, and that he wouldn’t immediately suspect that Jin Guangyao of scheming to kill Jin Ling and take the whole thing for himself.

He’d never dreamed that Nie Mingjue might think that he deserved it.

“I’ll support you, of course,” Nie Mingjue said, as if it were obvious, when it was the least obvious thing that had ever happened in Jin Guangyao’s life. “But I’m not actually any good at this sort of thing, you know – playing politics with the internal affairs of other sects. I don’t want to make things worse for you just because I don’t know what the right approach is, especially not here.”

Jin Guangyao stared at him.

Nie Mingjue, not hearing a response, glanced at him and scowled. Lowering his voice still more, he said, “Think on it carefully. Sect Leader Jin hates me personally, but my Nie sect isn’t nothing, not even in Lanling. It’s still more so after the war, after all those battles I won to save the Jin sect’s rotten – that is, after everything I did to help. Even if your father doesn’t like it, he still has to give my sect face, and his sect elders know it. You’re a war hero, and my sworn brother; if a public stand on my part would help make things easier for you…”

“I’ll think on it carefully,” Jin Guangyao assured him, his mind already racing over the possibilities. Nie Mingjue underestimated himself – he wasn’t just a war hero, he was the war hero, the righteous and unyielding war god that had won an impossible war for the rest of them. He was Jin Guangshan’s chief rival for the position of Chief Cultivator and he wasn’t even trying to get the position; he probably wanted nothing more than to go home to Qinghe and sleep for three months and yet practically every single sect leader that Jin Guangshan felt out on the subject invariably dropped his name as the possible alternative. Assuming he was serious, and Nie Mingjue was always serious, his public support would make it extremely tricky for Jin Guangshan to refuse to name Jin Guangyao as the official heir, even if he tried to claim that this was a private matter. The rest of the sect would force him to do it, even against his will.

Moreover, Lan Xichen would follow Nie Mingjue’s lead, or at least could be easily encouraged into doing so. He was so distracted with his brother, if Jin Guangyao went to him and pointed out that Nie Mingjue thought it was a good idea to stand behind him…no, he wouldn’t even need to do that. Everyone knew how much better his relationship with Lan Xichen was in comparison to Nie Mingjue; if Nie Mingjue stood behind him, everyone would assume that Lan Xichen did as well, and then he would have two of the remaining Great Sects backing his right to inherit – even if only in the interim – the seat of power for Lanling Jin, as the only recognized son…

Except, of course, Jin Guangshan had already accounted for that.

Jin Guangyao’s eyes flickered. Perhaps there was a way to test Nie Mingjue’s sincerity.

“There is one issue,” he said, and Nie Mingjue turned his head to look at him directly. “My father has – decided to bring home another son.”

Nie Mingjue stared at him. “Another son?”

“From a minor noble family of commoners –”

“He brought one home now?” Nie Mingjue said, and he sounded angry. He always sounded angry, but this time he sounded angry on Jin Guangyao’s behalf, something he hadn’t been since Langya, since Qinghe, and it thrilled Jin Guangyao’s heart to hear it. He’d always secretly enjoyed having someone as physically and politically strong as Nie Mingjue in his corner, the power of it going to his head; it was even more so now, when he was finally in a position where he could really use it. “That’s a deliberate insult to you, and for what? Some untried boy…”

One who isn’t the son of a prostitute, Jin Guangyao thought, but of course Nie Mingjue wouldn’t think about it that way. He never had, not from the beginning.

“Father is of course within his rights to bring home whoever he wishes, for the best interest of the sect,” he said diplomatically, and Nie Mingjue huffed and rolled his eyes. “Da-ge…”

“It doesn’t change anything,” Nie Mingjue said curtly. “Think on it, and tell me what you want me to do.”

With that he turned away and strode off towards the main hall, a scowl firmly on his face.

Jin Guangyao watched him go, pleased – Nie Mingjue was really too easy to manipulate, if you knew him well enough. He’d keep quiet during the opening ceremony of the conference, but if he was really sincere about standing up for Jin Guangyao’s right to inherit, there would be no way he’d be able to refrain from expressing his views to Jin Guangshan at some point later that evening.

Sure enough, Nie Mingjue seethed throughout most of the complex and beautiful ceremony Jin Guangyao had arranged to show off Lanling Jin’s wealth and strength and taste – all wasted on him, naturally, so Jin Guangyao didn’t take any offense – and through dinner as well, and afterwards found a reason to make his way over to Jin Guangshan. After a few words, they both retreated to one of the receiving rooms.

Jin Guangyao made his excuses very shortly thereafter and slipped away: the receiving rooms, at least, were not dead spaces, and he knew all the ways to listen in there.

By the time he arrived, they were already arguing.

“ – what business of yours?” Jin Guangshan was snarling. “These are my private family matters!”

“He is my sworn brother,” Nie Mingjue said in return, his voice stiff as always. It was interesting to Jin Guangyao that he still didn’t seem happy about admitting that fact; he was still resentful of Jin Guangyao, still suspicious, and yet he supported him regardless, just because he thought it was his right. Ah, the foolishness of good people! “When you refuse to give him face, that becomes my business.”

Jin Guangshan spat, audibly. Jin Guangyao, still carefully moving into a position where he could see as well as hear, hoped he’d aimed it at the floor and not at Nie Mingjue’s face.

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Jin Guangshan said. “I suppose I really shouldn’t be so surprised to find you supporting him, should I?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nie Mingjue demanded, and Jin Guangyao wondered the same.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Jin Guangshan said. Jin Guangyao had never heard his father sound so cruel – and he had quite a bit to compare it to. “They do say like calls to like, don’t they?”

Jin Guangyao had just finally gotten into view position, which meant he was just in time to see all the blood drain out of Nie Mingjue’s face as if he’d just been stabbed.

“You may have won some merit,” Jin Guangshan said, and he was smirking now. “But they do say blood always tells – or did you think that people would forget that it’s your brother that’s the true-born son, and you merely a concubine’s get?”

He was what?

Nie Mingjue was –

It was impossible. Surely, it was impossible.

And yet Nie Mingjue was not denying Jin Guangshan’s words, was not getting angry at the slander, was standing there stiff-backed and grim-faced –

“I still remember how disappointed your father was when his beautiful, beloved, delicate wife couldn’t get a pregnancy to last the term,” Jin Guangshan said, picking up one of the jars of wine and taking a swig. “He didn’t want to take a concubine at all, thought it’d be disrespectful to his wife, but what could he do? He was the sole heir, with an obligation to continue his lineage…they bought your mother for the breeding, like bringing in a cow for the farmyard bull.”

He laughed.

Nie Mingjue said nothing.

“Healthy, I think he said about her. Healthy and big, good hips for bearing children, good tits to nurse them – that was all he cared about, squeezing a few sons out of her, and she didn’t even manage that. Ran away after the first one, didn’t she? You ever figure out where she went, whether she ended up married to some dumb farmer as illiterate as her, or else lying on her back in a brothel? Dead in a beggar’s grave somewhere, perhaps?”

Nie Mingjue said nothing.

“No, it’s no surprise: of course you’d back the little son of a whore for the position of rightful heir, as if letting him take it would help cover up for the way you stole your own brother’s –”

“Watch your words,” Nie Mingjue said, his heavy voice slicing through the air like a saber.

“Still pretending it wasn’t theft, then?” Jin Guangshan laughed again, pacing the room back and forth, prowling like some sort of beast. “You were supposed to step down when he was ready – you had to swear never to have children, never to marry, all so you could warm the sect leader seat until he was grown up and ready to take it himself. But a weakling wastrel like that, he’s never going to be ready, is he? Very clever of you. I bet your sect elders hadn’t thought of you getting around it like that.”

“You dare –”

“Oh, I dare! And I’d dare more, if you think you can push me around!” Jin Guangshan bared his teeth. “Let me tell you now, Sect Leader Nie, if you dare make a public statement of support for Guangyao, I’ll remind the whole world that you’re no better than him, that you ought to be one of the Nie sect’s servants, not its sect leader –”

“Go ahead.”

Jin Guangshan stopped.

“Go ahead,” Nie Mingjue said again, stepping forward, and Jin Guangyao had never actually seen him purposefully use his height against someone, wield it like a weapon to remind the other party which of them was the more terrifying. “I’ve already had half a dozen public arguments with Huaisang about the fact that he needs to take the role of Sect Leader; everyone in my sect knows that he’s the one who keeps refusing. Do you really think everyone is like you? Scrabbling for every scrap of power you can get, like a rat in the rubbish bin?”

Jin Guangshan took an involuntary step backwards as Nie Mingjue continued to advance.

“When there are those who speak against you, you must do so well that they have no choice but to shut their mouths,” Nie Mingjue said, and it was the very same words he had spoken in encouragement to Jin Guangyao, all those years ago when they had first met. At the time, and thereafter, Jin Guangyao had thought him naïve, of not knowing of which he spoke. “Tell me, Sect Leader Jin, if you go out and spew your poison to your sycophants, do you really think any but the most loyal and brainless will open their mouths to condemn me now? Now, when I’ve just won the cultivation world a war, when I saved Lanling Jin a dozen times or more? Do you really think people will remember my mother instead of my saber?”

“You’d be amazed what people remember,” Jin Guangshan said, even if his voice was weaker, more desperate than it had been before. Less mighty and more pathetic than before, as if Jin Guangyao were suddenly seeing him in a brand new light: seeing him as what he was, as a man who would never looked beyond a person’s birth, no matter what their merits. “In the end, public arguments or not, you were the one who raised Nie Huaisang, now a good-for-nothing, a waste, and you sit in his throne, managing his Nie sect. People will remember that! Your sect will still lose face, be dishonored!”

“Fine. Then I’ll just kill you,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangshan gaped at him. “Why not? You’re right. To protect my brother’s birthright, I vowed never to have children, never to marry; the only ambitions in my life were to allow Huaisang to live well as he grew older and to avenge my father, and I’ve accomplished both. Even if they execute me for your murder, what’s it to me? What will I have lost?”

Jin Guangshan’s mouth moved open and closed, mute in his shock, and Jin Guangyao couldn’t blame him.

Nie Mingjue’s lips twisted into a sneer of his own.

“For once in your life, Sect Leader Jin, just do the right thing,” he said, sounding tired, and Jin Guangyao felt something loosen inside of him that had gone inexplicably frozen and pained at the idea of Nie Mingjue breaking all those morals and principles he always seemed to hold so dear.

It was strange. Not a day earlier, Jin Guangyao would have sworn that he would’ve liked nothing more than to see Nie Mingjue pushed too far, forced down into the muck and mud that the rest of them trudged their way through, and now that he saw a hint of it, he’d never wanted anything less.

“Name Meng Yao your heir until Jin Ling is grown,” Nie Mingjue continued. “Reap the benefits of the alliance he brings with him and have us all honor you as an elder, if that’s what you want. But playing games like this…I’d say it’s beneath you, but I’d need a shovel to get that deep. So don’t think about it. Just do it. Or I’ll make you.”

He left, Jin Guangshan still gaping after him. It wasn’t long before he finally started moving, throwing around expensive teacups and furnishings and shouting for servants to bring him a drink and a whore, even though it was early; Jin Guangyao returned to the party, knowing there would be nothing more for him to learn, not when his father was in a mood like that.

Later that night, when the party was over and all cleaned up, he went to the quarters assigned for their guests from the Nie sect and was unsurprised to see a light still lit within the one assigned to the sect leader.

He knocked, and a familiar voice beckoned him to enter.

Nie Mingjue was dressed in a sleeping robe, but he was at his desk, writing a letter; he’d clearly been unable to sleep. He looked up when Jin Guangyao entered.

“What?” he asked, short and sharp and rude as always.

These days, Jin Guangyao usually planned out his encounters with Nie Mingjue in advance, hoping to minimize awkwardness and achieve his goals without too much of a scolding. He’d done that at the very beginning of knowing him, only to rapidly give up during his time at Qinghe – Nie Mingjue was both predictable and yet somehow an utter mystery, and it was easier to just go with the flow, adapt to the circumstances, than it was to plan in advance. Only after he’d left did he start planning once again.

He wasn’t planning now.

“Your mother,” he said, and Nie Mingjue barked a laugh, reaching up with a hand to rub at his eyes.

“Did your father tell you?” he asked. “Or did you just listen in?”

Jin Guangyao shrugged, and Nie Mingjue for once did not seem inclined to demand an answer.

“Is it true?” he asked instead, even though he already knew. “That she was…”

Like mine.

Not exactly like, of course. Jin Guangshan wouldn’t have hesitated to call Nie Mingjue the son of a whore directly if he thought he could get away with claiming it was merely fact, and had managed to imply as much nonetheless. Jin Guangyao’s mother’s shame could never be washed away, not in his lifetime; Nie Mingjue’s birth, being merely low, was not the same.

And yet.

“Oh, it’s true,” Nie Mingjue said mirthlessly. “Right down to the fact that they all but bought her based on how fertile she looked, for all that my father later pretended it wasn’t that, and the fact that she ran away.”

Jin Guangyao blinked. If he was playacting, he might have bitten his lip, averted his eyes, and he still considered doing it, but for the moment he was still feeling too off-balance to really commit to it. “Is she – still alive?”

Nie Mingjue shrugged.

“Have you looked for her?”

“I’ve been sect leader for over a decade,” he said, which wasn’t a denial. “If she wanted to find me, she knows where I am.”

That was a good point, Jin Guangyao supposed.

“Was it hard?” he asked, and Nie Mingjue frowned, clearly not understanding the question. “For you, when it was you. Was it hard to convince them to let you inherit?”

Nie Mingjue’s eyes slid half-shut in pained memory. “Yes.”

Jin Guangyao nodded, and went to sit down next to Nie Mingjue, who allowed it, returning to his work. He didn’t say anything.

It was rather atypical for Jin Guangyao – he was always thinking of something to say, when it came to Nie Mingjue, trying to bridge the gap between them with clever words. Perhaps it was only that the gap had shrunk, or had never been as large as he had thought.

After a while, Nie Mingjue said, “You know I wish you were better than you are,” and Jin Guangyao looked at him sidelong. “But in the end, you’re my brother. Isn’t that what matters?”

“Yes,” Jin Guangyao said, and there was that uncalled-for fondness again. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

#mdzs #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #jin guangshan #my fic #my fics #alternative backstory #dead spaces #jessaramine

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joz-yyh · 2 years ago

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Fanning the Flame - Preview

SUMMARY: Part of my Japanese Deity AU (click the link for more info). Ichigo is the reincarnated Fire God Kagu-Tsuchi and Shiro is the Sea Dragon Watatsumi that watches over him. Ichigo reaches the age of maturity and as a result, begins to develop romantic interests in his long-time guardian spirit. In an effort to dispose of these annoying feelings, Ichigo grows reclusive and distant until an irritated Shiro finally confronts him about it. Sexy times ensue. No beta. Read at your own risk.

RATING: T (PREVIEW ONLY for swearing). The rest of the fic is rated E (for sexual themes / mutual handjobs)

PAIRING: Ichihichi/ShiroIchi (IchigoxShirosaki)

WORD COUNT: 1,810

A/N: Sorry, I am late. This was supposed to be for Day 4 of Ichihichi week for the theme, “Underwater,” but seeing how it has taken me far longer than expected, I am going to post the middle portion of the fic that’s been completed so far. Hopefully, I get the rest done and upload to Ao3 sometime soon.

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Ichigo cards through the dense foliage, hidden from sight, silently spying on his immortal counterpart from afar. He finds Shiro in one of his usual spots along the shoreline, the sapphire dragonlord contorted into a miserable posture of crossed limbs, his scowling face elevated by the brunt of his knuckles.

He's jabbing the small fire he's built with a stick, muttering vague obscenities at it, two skewered fish planted in the sand around the flames, seared brown and ready to eat, but remain suspiciously untouched, as if waiting for someone who is inexcusably late to arrive.

The wind carries the smoky vapors towards the man lurking in the camouflage of bushes and it smells delicious, one of his favorites most likely, and even though there's no way Shiro could have known that he was coming tonight, Ichigo has a feeling those twin gifts moored around the fire pit were delicacies intended for him.

For as angry as Ichigo was, all of his misplaced aggression drains away, replaced by feelings of longing, recognizing this dejected scene as a looking glass into his own perpetuated misery.

The organette shrinks further into the shadows of the forest, distracted, his retreating steps rustling the dense, oversized leaves that he's crouched behind.

Shiro's webbed ears suddenly twitch, his sensitive nose huffing the moisture in the air, picking up Ichigo's scent.

Shit, he's been found out.

Ichigo turns his back, about to flee to the safety of his secluded bungalow, but the dragonlord finds him before he even has a chance to blink. The organette gasps, brown eyes going wide because he never knew Shiro capable of such agility outside of the water.

"Ichigo," Shiro hollers far louder than necessary, the scorn evident in his voice, "Just where the hell have you been?!"

"Che, "Ichigo sneers scathingly, "I am my own man now. I am free to go wherever I please. Get used to it."

Shiro's hands ball into fists, black nails digging into the skin of his palms. They've been through too much, shared too much and the elder god wasn't about to let his stubborn upstart throw all those years away just for a poorly constructed bluff of impertinence.

"You're not going anywhere, not without an explanation," Shiro snarls, determination broadening his stance.

"Don't try to get in my way," Ichigo warns, gathering up his energy in wicked flare of power.

"I won't have to try," Shiro boasts, immune to the cheap tricks of bravado the organette is putting on.

"I said move aside," Ichigo growls with desperation, incensed. There's a dangerous leer in his eyes, a war of emotions that says he's being forced to do something he'll regret, pleading with the other man to stand down.

It's clear to Shiro that Ichigo doesn't have the heart to fight him, but the sea god wasn't the type to turn down the opportunity to knock some sense into the insolent boy, not after all the heedless trouble he caused him.

"The hell I will," Shiro roars, venom clinging to his every word, bearing the burden of his frustration for the other male to see.

In a hurricane of surf and sparks, the guardian deity transforms into the staggering presence of his true self, a 50 foot long sea serpent that held commanded over vicious thunder and treacherous waves.

They may have sparred in the past, but Ichigo has never fought his mentor in this state, not to this degree, not seriously. He was certain that if they were both in the water, there would be no contest of strength, but this was sand under their feet and the dragon's massive, lumbering body wasn't suited for battle here. At least Ichigo had the advantage of terrain, and while it might be easier for Shiro to maneuver on something more amorphous than solid ground, it was enough of an edge for Ichigo to formulate a plan of escape.

The fire god sends a blast of fire in the dragon's direction (although diluted) to create an opening and buy himself some time, aiming to keep those jaws from getting too close.

To his dismay, Shiro doesn't bother to defend himself from the attack, instead ramming through the whirl of flames head-on, sacrificing his flesh for the sake of speed.

Ichigo falters, missing his chance, his getaway attempt impeded by the impressive rows of teeth blocking his path. Ichigo jumps back to avoid being mauled, extending the span of neutral space between them.

The dragon's talons dig deep into the sifting white sand to anchor himself in place, his fins shivering as he summons a ring of electricity to surround them, trapping Ichigo inside a magical barrier.

Shiro is quaking, expanding his bulk with unbridled anger, the lighting surrounding his impressive length cracking like a whip, his whole being devoted to subduing the other into submission no matter what the cost.

The dragon knows that foolish look veiled in the depths of those amber eyes, a look that told him that the naive youth was going to attempt something stupid, like trying to break free of his prison.

"Stop Ichi," Shiro roars, teeth bared, "I won't let you run away! Tell me what's wrong! Don't make me force it out of you."

The dragon's voice is altered, spoken in an ancient tongue, but Ichigo understands the words all the same. The organette's face is one of shock and disclosure, quickly fading into something tormented and disgraced.

Ichigo has no choice, but to stare down those piercing, exotic eyes, witness the dark discoloration of scales singed and burned across the dragon's face, a wound he'd caused with his own two hands, however well-meaning his intentions might have been at the start.

The fire god reaches out towards Shiro's snout, a slow and telegraphed action that was easy enough to avoid, but the dragon finds himself flinching, startled by this approach.

A tanned hand treads lightly over the collection of injured scales, and Shiro hisses, thinking that this was perhaps a feint, a ploy to penetrate his guard by targeting his weak point, but as his electric waves zap up Ichigo's arm, the dragon realizes it's something much more bittersweet.

Ichigo squints, enduring the surge of lightning, a look of remorse choking his expression as teardrops fall, dotting the tiny scales lining the sea serpent's sharp cheeks.

It finally occurs to Shiro that the young man is crying, mourning the damage he'd done. Such a discovery wracks the dragon to his core. His aura of magic falls, dispelled and exiled, the will to fight sapped from him, powerless in the face of Ichigo's grief.

His massive body shifts, surrendering entirely, wrapping the fire god’s smaller frame against his in large snake-like bands. The dragon's eyes close, nuzzling the young man who was clinging to his snout like a temple of salvation.

"It's alright," the dragon soothes, grumbling lowly in his throat to hush the young man's sorrows, "I am here. You have me."

"I am sorry Ichi," Shiro continues after a long, sobering moment, "I lost my temper. One day you were just gone and I couldn't sense you anywhere. I was so worried something had happened to you, but I am glad you're OK, that you came back to me."

No, this wasn't right. Shiro shouldn't be the one apologizing to him. It was Ichigo who was all wrong, and it made the orangette feel even worse about the seemingly thick, impenetrable wall he had erected between them.

"We've lived peacefully all this time...," Ichigo sniffles, trying to form the words that were so hard to admit, "... and it's because of me ... I changed -- I changed everything."

Shiro listens diligently, offering the same consoling gestures and sounds he used when Ichigo was just a squabbling child full of mischief and tears. He let's the fire god find his thoughts, his voice, knowing better than to dissuade him.

"I ... I hate myself for having these impure thoughts about you," Ichigo grounds out, smothering his words against cerulean scales, "I ... I don't understand them. I am scared of what I might do, of ruining whatever it is that we have left," the organette’s voice wavers, overflowing like a broken dam.

"Ichi...," Shiro begins softly, "...what's happening to you ... it's a natural change. You need to accept that even someone as exalted and powerful as you cannot suppress an instinct that is simply beyond your control."

Shiro understand the concept of what he's trying to teach the younger god all too well. He'd stolen Ichigo away from his birthplace on a whim, intertwining their fates, claiming the child's destiny as his own when the judgement wasn't his to make.

The love he held for Ichigo was as grand and as infinite as the ocean, evolving over time, becoming something else when the young magician of flames had grown into his godhood, matured into the handsome man before him.

"I chose to stand by your side all those years ago and nothing you could do will ever change how I feel about you," Shiro resolves, content to stay this way forever, "I am yours, now and always."

Ichigo's tears have slowed their descent, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he kisses the scales closest to his lips. They've shared platonic kisses before, but this one held a promise stripped of innocence, a token reserved for lovers.

"It hurt being away from you ..." Ichigo says, finding the courage to confess, "... I thought that I could bare it if it meant saving you from this pain, but I made it worse."

"Ichi, you could never hurt me," Shiro assures him, his long tail nudging the youth closer, coiling around the small silhoutte as tight as he could possibly be.

It had been a clear night mere minutes ago, as most of the evenings on the island were, but now the sky was grey with overcast, the faint downpour of rain staining the beach around them with dark freckles, the dreary weather a reflection of Shiro's own inner world.

"Come, let's get inside, out of the storm," Shiro offers, coddling the boy as if he was too delicate and might suffer from the gentle patter of raindrops on his skin.

"But the fire," Ichigo squeaks weakly, glancing over at the doused flames of the forgotten campfire, the wasted meal rendered soggy and unsalvageable thanks to the sudden shower of rain.

It was just like Ichigo to worry over something so inconsequential, to put trivial things before himself.

"Forget it. I can always make more," Shiro says dismissively, ruling Ichigo as his first and only priority.

The vulnerable spellcaster gives a subtle nod, his hand tracing along the curves of the dragon's sinewy body as Shiro lowers himself down, allowing Ichigo access to his back. The orangette climbs on, reining in the sturdy set of horns as they ride off into the crash of tides, seeking the shelter of their nest.

{End Preview}

#my writing #shiroichi week #shiroichi week 2022 #ichihichi #ichihichi week 2022 #japanese deity au #bleach fanfiction #shiroichi fanfiction #ichigo kurosaki #shirosaki #hollow ichigo #hichigo #white ichigo #shiroichi #ichihichi fanfiction #ichihichi week

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captainadwen · 2 years ago

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Whatever happened to Mae reverted his temporal-state to that of a kid. it’s irreversible, as far as any of the house of Finwe’s members and healers can tell (once they manage to re-establish contact). surviving the bragollach is probably overall harder, without Mae’s deeds of great valor (rip, Azaghal). Popular wisdom is that Maedhros alone of Feanor’s sons fell in the Bragollach, trying to hold the front. It is bad for morale and makes Fingolfin unhappier, and so it is High King Fingon that gets hush-hush told about what actually happened to Maedhros

- Fingon has to deal with trying to hold the Noldor together without his best friend and close, powerful ally. Maglor is a good commander, but he can’t make up for the hole Mae leaves. On the other hand, a tiny little version of Maedhros of the likes he had never seen before (on account of either being a baby or not yet born when Mae was last this age) is a pretty okay distraction

- The world’s pissiest custody battles ensue. No one can deny that Mae is a Feanorian, but also calling him ‘Maedhros’ was out of the question now, as was Maitimo, and definitely not Nelyafinwe, and the closest they get to anything is Artanaro/Rodnor, and oops, his eyes shine like stars not the trees don’t be ridiculous. Also, isn’t Barad Etheid a much better place for a child to be in compared to Himring?

- Most of the soldiers of Himring know what’s up. They would rather die than explain why they are loyal to a tiny child. There are rumors he is Maedhros’ child, but no one can produce a mother to prove them.

- Mae ends up at Barad Etheid, when the travel ways are made a bit safe again. The Ereinion Gil-Galad persona is born here. Maedhros’ sindarin gains a distinctly Nolofinwian tint.

- Finrod is called on account of being good at magic. He also cannot figure things out. It is pointed out that Barad Etheid is also like, basically the frontlines now. An argument ensues. Fingon argues that if they send Mae-Galad to Nargothrond they might as well just send him all the way to Cirdan, where he will be safest. Belatedly, they all realize this is actually a good idea, because a lot of the Noldor are starting to ask pointed questions about whether Fingon had a red-headed wife

- Honestly, there are probably more kingdoms the Noldor lost than the ones they hold. The Feanorians probably can’t make any arguments whatsover to keep mae around, which makes them bitter on principle. Maglor is head of the house again, but no one is really happy with this (definitely not Maglor, who would 1. like his big brother back 2. if that is not possible, at least have the tiny big brother in his care).

- without mae around, there is no union of anyone, and therefore no nirnaeth. this probably doesn’t improve the situation, since the flipside is a less united noldor and also the loss of a good warlord.

- fingon and barad etheid survive longer than in canon, but doubtfully long enough to see the war of the wrath

- that said, the beren and luthien story probably happens exactly the same. maybe there is some question of whether the silmaril can help restore maedhros as he once was - but between celegorm and curufin’s actions and the first kinslaying still around

... or not, because other fun changes might happen but:

- as Mae grows, he slowly starts regaining memories. However, as dear pearl calculated, he could arguably be 2700+ years old by the Bragollach, so his full regaining memories takes thousands of years. by the time annatar appears he has started to remember the initial unrest of the noldor, and is suspicious of this guy that acts a lot like Nice Personal Melkor

- he still dies of fire

was reading sweetteaanddragons’ bad timing au and in line with the recent thoughts about funny gil-galad origins it got me thinking…

Mae-Galad

#silmarillion #fic ideas #hehe #mae-galad #have not gone full in to what this au could be #but i am writing this to recover from groip project meeting so not at my best

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gryffindors-weasley · 4 years ago

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Closed For Business

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: When an unexpected visitor arrives at your bookstore, jealousy ensues.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: flirting, jealousy, fluff, kissing

Your shift at William and Bette’s Bookstore hadn’t been too terrible that day. It most certainly had been a busy one, the rather inclement weather not deterring anyone from stopping in, but you suppose a little foot traffic wasn’t quite so bad when you worked a job that you loved. It was a sweet little place, lined floor to ceilings with a variety of books so vast it was impossible to browse through in just one visit. The wooden bookshelves were organized A-Z, winding and curving around the one-floor shop, lamps littering about as a station for hot chocolate and tea resides in the very far corner.

You’d started working there about a year after the second wizarding war had concluded its disastrous rampage. You were in need of something, anything to busy yourself with. It was a cozy little place, tucked warmly and welcomingly next to your favorite bakery; needless to say it always smelled of cinnamon and old books.

You found it when you were in town with Draco, Narcissa having sent him out to a shop you hadn’t entirely known what for. Perhaps it was for new floral arrangements to have around the Manor—it was absolutely that actually. She’d wanted to liven up the otherwise bleak and somber estate, flowers always having been something to brighten her spirits with her husband having been away in Azkaban for a number of years to come. It was then that you spotted it, the ‘help wanted’ sign taped just inside the old window of the little shop. It’d been Draco who nudged you to go for it, both literally and figuratively as he pulled you along by the hand, so you did. You took the leap and they hired you on the spot much to your delighted surprise.

Long story short, you had been working there since you were nineteen, now twenty-four. The owners, William and Bette, had been and continue to be endlessly welcoming and jovial, and you found you hadn’t wanted to work just anywhere else. It was perfect, in a small town of one of a kind shops and equally one of a kind cottages—one of which you resided in with the love of your life. It was a fairytale, as much as it could have been for two magically inclined lovers who’d been put through more than most could even fathom before the age of twenty-five. Most people thought magic had just been a trick of the eye.

Presently, you were helping your very last customer of the day, relief settling upon you only minutely. Granted, he was someone you hadn’t expected to show up to a bookstore, not even remotely nor the one in your tiny town but you suppose books had their charm. It’d been nearly ten minutes since you’d rung up Cormac’s book, ten minutes since the shop was set to close and he still stood before you with a grin that was telltale to his flirting.

He’d been trying valiantly to win your affections ever since your sixth year, and even more so when a certain blonde in particular had been far more successful at it than him. You never cared for the boy then, always far too full of himself to see things with any sort of rationality. He’d been too self absorbed to capture any sort of attention from you. You supposed Draco hadn’t been vastly different, he’d certainly had the tendency to be so arrogant, but he was far changed from that now. Leaps and bounds different.

He’d come in what had to be nearly half an hour ago, and surely he hadn’t been as interested in the books he’d been looking at as he’d tried to be. Not with the way you’d met his gaze on more than one occasion. It was laughable, really, to be so flirtatious was something that seemed to be rather tiring after a while. In fact, he’d been so caught up in trying to impress you he’d just about knocked over the newly added display for new arrivals. Perhaps he didn’t know your heart belonged to someone else, to the very same person it belonged to the last time you were in each other’s company. Surely he didn’t know that otherwise he wouldn’t be making a fool of himself.

You sigh at the ever so distinct sound of the bell over the door ringing out, effectively cutting him short of his words momentarily and signaling the entrance of someone else to tend to. Someone that should have read the sign on the door much like the one rapidly overstaying his welcome as the clock had struck seven. The sign on the door had been flipped, it was obvious as the lone four letter word stared back at you and ‘closed’ faced boldly towards the town in red cursive letters. You didn’t take the time to look for just who it’d been that came in, however, continuing to wipe the counter with a sigh.

“We’re closed,” you call out around Cormac’s shoulder, offering him a polite smile. A silence fell over the small store as you purse your lips, and he was quick to continue the conversation just where he’d left off minutes prior.

“We’re going to be traveling across the country next month. It’s the most important match of the season,” he says, his chin in his hand as he leans with his elbow against the counter. His eyes sparkled as he looked at you and you tried your hardest to suppress your giggle; he looked absolutely ridiculous, his heart eyes for you beyond comical.

“Oh really?” You inquire then, completely amused at the sheer effort he’d been so desperately putting into impressing you. Little did he know there’d been a brilliant Healer, the best of his time, that had stolen your heart since the day he’d healed you after a clumsy mishap. Cormac hadn’t changed one bit as you readily expected, and it felt as though you were back at Slughorn’s Christmas party once more.

He nods, fingers tapping against his lip as the corner of his mouth quirked up into a grin. “Perhaps you’d like to join me?”

You had to stop yourself from letting your jaw drop, from allowing the snort that was ready to sound from falling past your lips. Had he always been so bold? You suppose so, you know so.

It hadn’t been terribly hard to stifle your shocked and utterly amused laughter when a newfound distraction arises mere moments later, the clatter of a book or two falling to the floor well heard across the entirety of the space. You frowned at the sound of it, unaware that it wasn’t just some other customer who hadn’t abided by shop hours that’d done it, rather a certain platinum blonde had been responsible for it instead. You were most entirely unaware of the way he’d been plucking miscellaneous books from their shelves and shoving them back into their spots in a pitiful attempt to busy himself all while jealousy brewed deeply within him. Not to mention the way he’d been staring daggers into the quidditch player’s back all the same. He’d gone ahead and dropped the very books in his hand upon hearing the brazen question, his eyes falling closed as his jaw tenses.

He promised you to not get so terribly jealous as he once had as a teen, as he once had most notably with the very same wizard who’d been fawning over you in that very moment. While he was far different from the boy who’d once put harmless jinxes and hexes just to be insufferable, he was strongly considering setting his maturity aside for just this once. With the way he’d been looking at you, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. But, instead he settles for dragging the tip of his finger along the spines of the books before him as if he was interested in their titles, trailing absentmindedly as his cheeks still burned from his clumsy blunder.

That brief moment for distraction and distance from the ridiculous offer put forth to you was rapidly coming to an end, his attention focused on you once more. You sprayed a bit too much cleaner on the already well polished countertop, wiping it down vigorously as you felt his gaze on you. You were starting to wonder just how you ever escaped conversation with him in the past.

“I’m afraid I have to decline your offer,” you say, tossing the paper towel in the trash as you bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smiling as you thought to the love of your life. The one you so desperately wanted to return home to in that very moment, as you had longed to the whole day. The very man who’d been brooding grumpily just behind the mahogany bookshelves mere paces from you.

Cormac frowns only slightly as his head tilts to the left, his gaze holding yours. “Might I at least ask you to dinner then?”

That was it. That had been the absolute last straw. He hadn’t planned on making his presence known just yet, wanted to hear him make an absolute fool of himself if only for a few moments longer. But he knows there’s absolutely no way he could refrain from chiming in. No, not after that.

You open your mouth to speak, to answer his question despite being at a loss for words—though someone else beats you to it.

“Did you not hear? Shop is closed.” The voice is ever so familiar, holding a certain bite to it that one just couldn’t miss even from a mile away. You could hardly withhold your smile as Draco hopped up on the scuffed wooden counter, his brow raised tauntingly before he turned to look at you. “Right, love?”

You nod, meeting his gaze with a soft smile you tried to keep from growing. The look on his face was nothing short of adoring, but the fond expression held solely for you quickly hardens as it returns to the man in question. He straightens his posture and stands tall in Draco’s presence, the smirk on his lips since dissolving in favor of a tense jaw. He played with the ring on his finger, twirling it round and round as he crossed his ankles nonchalantly and fixed his stare on him rather than uttering the spell that sat so temptingly on his lips.

“Malfoy,” he greets coldly, a short nod to follow as he huffs through his nose.

“McLaggen,” Draco starts, sliding his book across the counter hastily. “I believe this is yours. Is it not?”

He huffs out a humorless laugh as he nods, swiping the book from beneath Draco’s fingertips. He holds his stare for a few fleeting moments, the corner of Draco’s mouth quirking up as he watches him sulk to the door and leave with a not so subtle thud. It was a brief interchange, however, one that spoke volumes of his displeasure and filled the small shop with a tension too thick to ignore.

You exhale a sigh then, brow raised quizzically as you cross your arms and try your hardest to be displeased with his behavior. Granted, he hadn’t turned his hair a rich shade of purple or muted him for the next week with a simple incantation, but you weren’t blind to the way his cheeks flushed pink. Nor did you miss the way his knuckles turned ivory, no matter how brief it may have been.

“Just what are you doing here?” You ask as he swivels in his spot, dipping down to kiss you sweetly.

“Can I not walk you home?” He asks in faux offense, the words pressed into your lips before he kisses you once more. Your smile quickly betrays you at the brush of his lips on yours, more so when they travel upwards to kiss the tip of your nose.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here from St. Mungo’s, you know. I could have apparated, love,” you sigh, your smile still lingering on your lips.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He asks, hopping down from the counter completely. His hands settle on your wrists, uncrossing your arms gingerly before sliding down to envelop your hands. “Besides,” he starts, his lips pressing to your cheek, “that was rather entertaining.”

You roll your eyes immediately, ready to pull your hands from his grasp until he tugged you closer with a laugh. You looked up at him with a beaming smile, one that held a certain mischief he was all too familiar with as you tilted your head. “Not nearly as entertaining as your clumsiness, especially not as much as the blush on your cheeks.”

He quiets the very factual statements falling from your lips with his own, the giggle of yours that sounded against his lips enough to make his blush deepen a shade. You were the only one in history to make his cheeks burn and flush like a fool, the only one in the world to make his heart flutter and pull a genuine smile from him. He supposes, he knows, that it’s always been you. Even when he didn’t realize it, even when he was far too unaware of true love for his own good.

He releases your hands in favor of enveloping you in his arms, your own wrapping around his neck. Any bit of jealousy, no matter how trivial and insignificant it may have been had since dissolved as he lifted you off your feet and spun you. The sheer adoration beaming bright on his face went unseen in the close proximity, your laughter filling the empty shop as his lips trailed from your cheek to the corner of your jaw. His breath was warm and broken against your skin as he laughed softly against it, the mere feeling sending a shiver to run through you.

His hair dipped over his forehead when he found it in him to pull from you, the platinum nearly mingling with his lashes. The look in his eyes, the way they sparkled pale blue and loving was a look far different than the one given to you more than a few moments prior. It just might’ve spoken his feelings more intensely than speaking those very three words aloud to you, it’s loving intensity something he never believed he’d be capable of holding for something, to be capable of having. Yet he’s got it all the same.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous, you know,” you say, smile bright as you run your thumb over his kiss swollen lip and to the pale scarlet dusting his cheeks.

“I don’t believe I ever said I was jealous, darling,” he defends, your smile widening as you reluctantly slip from his arms to retrieve your coat from its hook on the wall. He’d missed the feeling of you so close already, his hand only having just now fallen back to his side only briefly as he watches after you in awe.

“Didn’t have to,” you quip lightheartedly, returning to him to lean on your tiptoes and kiss him sweetly. “You’re terribly obvious, Malfoy.”

He didn’t find it in him to form any sort of witty remark to say, he couldn’t, not with the way your kisses left him breathless and more lovestruck with each passing second. He barely even notices when you grab his hand, switching off each and every lamp in the shop with a simple flick of your finger before tugging him out the door. When the lock clicks behind you, you set off down the cracked sidewalk, the sun dipping deeper in the sky.

“Love?” He asks, hand squeezing yours as he keeps you close.

“Yeah?”

“Since when does he read Shakespeare anyway?” He frowns, brows furrowed to accompany his grumbling as he looks ahead.

You only laugh and lean up to press a kiss on his cheek, the near tumble you almost took from your distraction far too worth it to be embarrassed. Not to mention the smile on his lips. In that moment, you were right where you wanted to be. Hand in hand with the true love of your life as you walk back to your very own home. That was all you needed.

“I love you,” you murmur, “more than anything.”

He huffs out a soft laugh, his heart fluttering. “I love you, more than everything.”

—

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