#( had i been able to muster a single coherent thought )

[livelaughlovesubs]

I have a small request which you can totally ignore if yous wants but-

Imagine Poe (bsd) feeling he isn't good enough and making a self-deprecating comment and reader fucking him while making him say (or until he says) he's worth it 💖

Ohhhh, that’s kinda sweet~ I like it heh

Dom!reader x sub!poe

Warning: pegging (can be read as a dick), praise kink, overstimulation, marking, fucked dumb

“Who’s my good boy? Who’s doing such a good job right now?”

There was only one right answer. It was him. Of course it was your dear partner. He’s been obeying you so nicely, bouncing up and down on top of you without taking a break. His back was facing you, giving you a nice view of his ass, as well as how your dick gets hurried inside him each time he slumps back into your lap. These shaking hands grabbed yours, making you hold onto his waist harder and leaving bruises behind.

You leaned against him, lips hovering above his neck as your hot breath tickled his skin. A shiver ran down his spine when you whispered something again, “answer me, pretty boy.” That’s what you said, but you wouldn’t give him time to speak and think! Relentlessly pounding him while kissing and sucking on his back, painting his body with marks and hickeys. Who would under such circumstances be able to speak properly? All he could let out were soft sobs paired with high-pitched whimpers. Back arched away from you, hands bawled into fists as he slams himself against your crotch.

His hair was a messy nest, flying around and obstructing his view, not that he could have registered anything anyway since he was only focused on the stretching feeling inside him. Every time he slows down for what reason ever, you’d run your hip upwards to meet his, hitting his prostate with such pinpoint accuracy that it makes him see stars. Electricity would course through his body like huge waves of pleasure, rendering him unable to even form a single coherent word. One of poe’s hands was wrapped around his dick to jerk himself off. But poor baby has been too distracted by the feeling of getting fucked dumb, so much that he forgot to move his hand. Now only holding it like it’s some kind of broken decoration that’s leaking its filth everywhere.

Really, everywhere. His precum spread to the sheets, his thighs, and even his belly. Now everything became sticky because of him. What a naughty boy he was, creating such a chaos. When Poe still didn’t muster enough energy to answer your questions, you squeezed down on his hips, getting a better grip before forcing him up and down your cock in a rough pace. “Hu- ah..aAAHHhHNHgG wait- y/n..!! Too much oh <3 too much!” He’d complain, but due to the moans it doesn’t sound very convincing. Watching his muscles tighten as more tears roll down his body, along with droplets of sweat. His rosy cheeks were so adorable, his body too, so perfect for you. A perfect little toy for you to adore.

Once again you groaned into his ear, “tell me, Poe, who’s my good boy?” After you finished your sentence, you noticed how his rim clenched down on you, holding onto you without wanting to let go. “Mhmm..! I- I…” he tried to answer you, he really did, yet whenever he opens his mouth only more whines would spill out. “Go on baby, take your time.” You smirked at him, a comforting smile that told him everything will be alright. Poe closed his eyes in an attempt to collect his thoughts, but it backfired and made him focus only on the way you stretched his walls. God it was heavenly, it was ecstasy he never experienced before. Whenever you just meekly brushed against his sweet spot, he’d mewl and squeak like a little slut.

This is no good, he was close, he had to answer you or else he might receive a punishment. Why do you want him to praise himself anyway? It’s so embarrassing! When you once again drove your dick deep inside him, hitting spots he never knew existed, he lost all energy and slumped back against your chest. A melting expression on his face as drool dripped down his chin, body sore from all the overstimulation already. His legs twitched around as a poor attempt to balance out the pleasure he received. He was exhausted, he couldn’t keep going anymore, all he did in that moment was giving himself to you completely, letting you use him like a toy.

“This won’t do, you have to speak, pretty boy.” You reminded him, while clasping one hand over his, the one pathetically trying to play with his own member. “Uhh.. it feels ah, hNng too good.” He gave out, barely able to register the meaning of your words. “Hmm, but you can speak right? Need me to repeat my question?” Even now you didn’t give up, fucking his brains out while giving him orders. “Hic, hmm… m-me… ah, I’m your go- uhHnn good boy..<3” Poe answered eventually, after that his tongue stuck out and his eyes rolled back. As if you milking his prostate wasn’t enough, you were forcing his hand to pump his length up and down now as well! He was going to break at this point!

“Good job, that’s right, you are my loveliest good boy, so be proud of it alright?” You said, before pointing into him faster and harder as a reward. “AhhHHHHh!! OohhH! Too much- too deep!!! Y/n HngHh, too fasttt!!” Aww, he’s crying about how he can’t handle this again, such an adorable thing. Since he’s encouraging you so feverishly, you had to respond to his pleads, right? Grinning from ear as to ear as you mumbled, “Shh, don’t worry, you won’t break that quick, I want to make this moment last.”

[heartcereql]

blue jeans

☆ neteyam sully x fem!na’vi! reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒- even now that your relationship has forever changed, neteyam can’t help his desires of a better life for the two of you.

𝐂𝐖 - minor angst, domestic, pregnancy themes, english is not my first language lol, aged up characters (like 20)

𝐀/𝐍 - classes are over omg (relieved and nostalgic at the same time)

mo’at knew way before the single thought of it even crossed your mind. the silent signals your body gave couldn’t have gone unnoticed by someone of her experience. mo’at had considered the idea of blatantly confronting you about it, but she decided to wait and observe. yet, seeing as you remained oblivious, she finally chose to tell you. 

“isn’t this paste too thick?” you asked the elder woman. “i feel like i may not have added the adequate proportions”

mo’at sighed. again. your apparently new lack of concentration was stressing her out. and so, that was the last straw. 

“that’s not important. come” she signaled for you to sit besides her. “do you really have no clue, ‘eveng?” (child)

“about what?” you looked mo’at in the eye. had you done something wrong? did this have something to do with-

“you are with a child” 

oh. oh. that certainly explained the sudden morning nausea, the fatigue, and the late changes you had been experiencing. 

the news were so out of the blue you couldn’t even react at first. after excruciatingly long instants, you tried to form a coherent sentence, or even a word.

“i- uh- i- em” nothing. while trying to elaborate something, you looked at mo’at for help, comfort, reassurance, you didn’t know. but she got ahold of your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 

and, whether you wanted it or not, neteyam and you were afloat in this life-changing experience. 

walking into the room, neteyam made your eyes burn with adoration. he fit you better than your favorite jewels. your face instantly illuminated by a smile as he walked over to you. 

“hey” he greeted softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead and rubbing your growing belly, his touch fresh to your skin. “how are you two?”

“as good as an exhausted future mom and an exhausting future baby can be” you hummed “which is great. how was your day?”

as neteyam procceeded to talk about clan campaigns, you mentally sighed. he had been obsessing over a “better life” for his growing family, aiming to obtain more power. 

you understood his perspective, and fully supported his projects and ambitions, but you feared the corruption power could bring. you knew love was mean, you knew love hurt. but you’d manage to see through the tears. 

“y/n, it’s for the better.” neteyam said, lacing his fingers with yours. “c’mon, you’ll barely notice i’ve left, and when i come back, i’ll be able to offer the two people i love most a worthy life”

“we already have a worthy life.” you said. you didn’t want him to leave. his power obsession had only grown over the past weeks, and now he wanted to leave home? yeah you had your limits. 

“the project is already in motion, i can’t stop it now. you know how hard i’ve worked” 

“but we don’t need anything more. being here, together is what matters isn’t it?” you tugged at his hands. nothing. “isn’t it?” he looked away

“y/n it’ll be no longer than a month, i swear” now you were the one looking away.

“postpone it then. i��m sure you can do at least that.”

“the campaign is working too well, i can’t put a halt to it, i can’t just stop it”

“you can’t stop it? or are you too blinded with power to stop it?”

“it’s not like that, and you know that. but i’m leaving, that’s final, y/n”

you mustered up the courage to look at him.

“no, please. stay here” 

“i can’t” he brought your hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to them. “i’m sorry” he mumbled. 

days later, he and the crew were gone. you were left with a bitter feeling and a good deal of promises. you had told him you’d always be by his side, in hopes that would help you convince him, but it didn’t seem to stop him from leaving. 

you stayed up waiting, anticipating his arrival, but he was too caught up chasing strenght. but, having all that time to yourself, you concluded that you wouldn’t let power get in between you both. you’d love him to the end of times. and you’d wait a million years for this project to be finished if that meant you could be together again. hoping he’d remember his promises, praying he’d remember.

inevitably, resentment started to grow. as did your belly. and neteyam hadn’t returned.

whether you wanted it or not, you had developed a routine in neteyam’s abscence. and some other things, too. the part of the crew who had stayed home tried to approach you at first. but you were hostile towards them. how could you not? they stole neteyam out of your life, after all.

though you’d be assaulted by intrusive thoughts, you remembered his promise. and yours. he would come back. 

you weren’t able to perform many of the tasks you used to, because of your state, though you did as much as you could. as of now, you were picking some berries, tossing them in a net. the sounds of the forest and your own thoughts often engulfed you, plunging you into a daydream. nevertheless, you noticed the sudden rustling of leaves. 

you turned around, hands holding a berry, trying to identify the source of the noise. you were about to turn around, dismissing the sound as wind, when something really convinced you not to. 

the fruit dropped from your hands.

“neteyam?” you were in utter and complete shock. finally, you reacted “oh, thank eywa”

you ran to his side, arms embracing you, like they were made for doing so.

“it’s me, baby”

“so how’d everything work out?”

he looked away. you’d guess.

“well, i told you that no matter what you did, i’d be by your side, and i plan to stand by that” you pressed a kiss to his temple.

“forgive me, y/n. i told you i wanted more, but that wasn’t what i had in mind. amidst the corruption, i realised i wanted it like before”

“hey” you cupped his face, pecking his lips before looking into his eyes. every last dash of possible resentment disappeared for good. “i’ll love you till the end of times, remember?”

“yeah” he chuckled, looking back at your first months of pregnancy. “yeah, and believe me, there wasn’t a day where i didn’t think of you two”

his hands moved to trace patterns on your belly.

“‘m sorry, i really am”

“don’t, okay? you’re here now”

“i just missed you so unbelievably much”

“missed you too, mighty warrior. and he did too” you slyly slided mo’at’s most recent diagnosis about your child.

[nix-rose]

Rocket's Little Girl (Part 1)

White rooms. 

That's what laboratories are always portrayed with. 

The sterile halls, the fluorescent lights, hushed experiments gone wrong.

It sounds like a horrible place on paper, but living through it is another whole monstrosity. Not a single depiction has described how loud it always feels. The hallways tower above you like mountains, the ceiling an unreachable and manufactured sky. Every small noise from a pin dropping to a featherlight footstep was made into a loud roar. It echoed and echoed until your skull started to rattle, and it never faded, because your own breathing would become warped and echo back to you in a garbled voice. Your own body soon became your enemy, as it betrayed you day in and day out. 

Nothing felt private. Nothing felt sacred. Nothing was your own. Even if you spent a lifetime in this sterile prison, you would never feel comfortable. You’d never feel warm or at peace. The floors would always remain cold and sticky to your bare feet, which would always make your feet sore when you finally sat back down. Instead of your clothing becoming comfortable and molding to your body over time, the fabric would always feel coarse. Sometimes, after you woke up, you would have a rash from where the fabric was pressed on too tightly. Breathing even felt like an action that wasn’t even your own. The air tasted stale and recycled, after a few days indoors you forget what a breeze felt like. It was all so sickening bright, so sickeningly clean, and so sickeningly loud. The fluorescent lights would always taunt you and remind you of a sun, but lack the warmth, and always let out a loud droning hum. It was always too bright. 

 "Too bright… " Phoenix thought. 

She tried to blink in an attempt to get used to the light burning into her eyes. Her efforts were in vain, and all she got in return was dry eyes. The sleep in her eyes only added to her discomfort. With a whine, the little girl attempted to rub her eyes, nothing happened, so she tried it again. As her consciousness was slowly being regained, she could feel the pressure of some metallic edges digging into her wrists. 

Phoenix then turned her head to the side, trying to get some respite from the bright lights, only to be met with the torsos of strangers in green. The clothes they wore were familiar but completely void of wear and tare. A wave of realization washed over the 9 year old. She remembered this place. This was the place they would take her and- 

A sense of dread filled her gut, making her throat dry up. She started to tug on her restraints, ignoring the pain against her bone.

"No-no… I don't want… here." She muttered out, her voice shaking. She was still being affected by whatever they were pumping into her, so she could hardly make a coherent sentence. A sense of helplessness caused her to try to suck up as much air as she could, only to just let it all out at once, and soon this process began to repeat. 

The people in green walked around her, taking notes and checking the distant screens. If Phoenix's eyes weren't being clouded with tears she would have probably been able to read them. She started to shake her head in an attempt to distract herself, to get away, or something similar. 

Her small voice choked out “i wa-nt to go hom-me." 

A faint sense of accomplishment flooded her mind when her weak struggling got some attention. She let out a small wail when the pain in her wrists became too much to handle. With a frustrated groan, she eased up on struggling, soon resorting to speaking since she had their attention. A larger person in green scurried over and quickly inspected her. 

"The chemicals wore off, subject is conscious"

"Put it under again." 

Phoenix didn't like the way these people talked about her. It made her feel small, well, smaller. She felt the tears begin to run down her cheeks. She hated feeling as if she were an animal unworthy of interaction or consideration. She voiced this with the most strength she could muster in her current state. 

"nO- I D-DON'T LIKE THIS-" 

Her moment of strength seemed to only make it worse, because she then caught a glimpse of a needle nearing her. Her mind was soon clear of any Haze, and she became aware of the fact she couldn't feel her legs. She couldn't stop herself from beginning to tremble and shake, afraid to even glance down.

" Yes ma'am. " The bigger person in green responded. 

The person came near and grabbed her left forearm holding it still, their grip too tight, and the gloves irritating her skin even more. 

  Phoenix attempted to thrash, but felt like her limbs weighed a hundred pounds. She couldn't handle another needle or injection. She couldn't handle falling asleep again. To aid her objection she let out a broken scream, which began to sting her throat. But it didn't matter how much thrashing or yelling she did because in the end, she was still a prisoner. She still wasn't her own. She was their object. She didn't have a single choice in her life that wasn't made by someone else and in moments like these, that reality made itself incredibly clear. 

The ice cold needle slid into her arm and the doctor pushed the sedative into her frail body.

A final desperate scream tore through before the girl's eyes shut, her world going dark and her body going numb. 

……

She missed her family more than anything. Her daddy would know what to do. Her mommy would find her. They loved her, they told her so every day. They would find her. She was certain of it. She had to be. 

And so, every day she would wait. Eyes glued to the door, waiting for her parents. Always waiting only to always be heartbroken and devastated when she was met with a man in strange armor placing a tray of food. In moments like those she was reminded that she, in fact, was very hungry. So she would eat, fall asleep, then wake up with a new bandage or a new ache in her body. It was maddening, and months of this passed by with her still hoping, longing, and believing that her parents would come for her. 

She would always begin to remember the time she spent when she would play with her family. She would try to remember what her mom and dad would sound like when they laughed, but as time passed, doing that made her feel worse. She would never admit it, but she had forgotten what they sounded like, and soon couldn't remember the details of their faces. all good things must come to an end so they say.

 Phoenix didn't even know when she broke, but she knew it happened. She was forced to realize her family wasn't coming back. She realized she didn't even know how long she had been left there. She didn't even know if her birthday had passed… She was alone. Alone… Alone…  Alone… 

Sitting and waiting was quickly replaced with screaming, crying, and hitting the walls. Day after day, Phoenix would scream and yell but no change ever came. She even tried to attack the man who gave her food, which resulted in a nasty bruise on her eye that swelled. She learned very quickly that it was more trouble than it was worth to throw tantrums. Soon she became tired of crying, she became tired of tantrums, and so she began to become hopelessly docile. The silence was deafening, but the echo if she did speak was painful. The noise of her own voice was sickening to her now.

  She soon began to try to get used to her schedule. She would sit and sit, alone and unbearingly uncomfortable, they would feed her mush, she would fall asleep, and when they were done with whatever they did, back into her room Phoenix would go. Never a toy or something like it to keep her company. Not a single thing to distract herself from the place she remained. The walls were far too empty and clean to even make shapes out. The only company was the all too bright lights above her. Always on, always looming, always cold.

……

At this point Phoenix lost count how many days, weeks, or months passed. It could've been years for all she knew, but she hadn't really grown much, so she doubts it. Today was just like any other day, the same silence and drone of the lights above, she stared at her legs, tracing over the scars on them, not really noticing that her skin didn't feel her own fingers on some particular spots. She flexed her toes and began to try to move one at a time. A dull sense of pride caused the slightest of smiles to grace her features because she realized she has improved her control over her toes. 

She heard footsteps approaching her room. She let her hands drop to her sides and she stared at the door expectantly, her smile dissipating. Another meal, she curiously wondered where her new scar would be. Instead of her usual meal of mush that greeted her, she instead saw the man in the armor holding nothing but his weapon. A newfound terror found its way into Phoenix's gut as she scrambled into the corner. 

"Wh-what did I do??!!" She yelled at the man. Her body began to tremble and shake without her being able to control it. 

In response the guard began to walk over to her, causing Phoenix to cover her face with her hands, curling up. Instead of a hit of pain, she felt the person's hand grab her upper arm and practically rip it out of its socket. She let out an involuntary wail of terror as she was yanked to her feet. Before she could comprehend what was happening the person began to drag her out of the room at a faster pace than Phoenix had walked in who knows how long. 

Phoenix could barely stand let alone walk, so she was constantly stumbling over her own feet. She could honestly admit she was too scared to see where she was being dragged. All that she could comprehend is that she was being taken to some horrific place and that she would be awake during one of the experiments, or worse, she could've lost her use. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks and all she could do was bury her face into her free hand, blindly being dragged through the halls. 

The noise was too loud, her feet painfully dragged on the ground as it clung to her flesh. The noise leaving a squeaking echo, making her want to puke. The distant wails and screams made louder the farther she was dragged. Her hands soon went from her eyes to her ear, trying to block them out. She hadn't even noticed the fact she had started to hyperventilate. 

Then, all at once, she was tossed onto some metal floor haphazardly. She hit the ground with a loud thud, it was all she could do to not open her eyes. Instead, she just curled up as she heard the sound of a latch closing. The ache on her skin where she was dragged was already beginning to bruise. She didn't want to open her eyes. She just wanted to get out of this place. She didn’t even remember where she wanted to go, just someplace not sterile. All she could continue to do was cry. So she remained curled up, hoping to just fall asleep.

“Some of us are trying to sleep in here!” a raspy voice called out. 

Phoenix instinctively flinched at the sudden voice. Another voice? Not just a voice, this one was different from the usual monotone voices that plagued her thoughts. Not even similar to the voices that would drone on and on behind closed doors, or when a sedative would wear off. 

"Oh my god, there's a kid now." another voice mumbled, seemingly to themself.

“People?” Phoenix thought. In a moment of hesitant hope, she took a chance to glance up, not sure what she was expecting to see. What greeted her were mats on the floor that lined each unbearingly white wall. Each held Animals, Creatures, and a few humans, none seemed to be her age, making Phoenix feel embarrassed that she had been on the floor crying seconds earlier. 

She glanced around the room, trying to gather more of her barings. Not many stared at the small girl for long, seeming to not want to accept her presence. Some of the ones that would meet her gaze soon turned away in what seemed like disgust or irritation. Phoenix wiped a tear track from her face, trying to calm her beating heart. She hadn’t realized she was still crying. With a resounding sniff, she sat on her knees. 

Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as her old room. At least she isn’t alone anymore. Phoenix attempted to ignore the gnawing in the back of her mind that it was going to get much worse, somehow. After spotting an open mat in the farest corner of the room, Phoenix shakily stood up, making her way to the unoccupied space. While she attempted to stumble to the back of the room, growls and snarls would  greet her if she tripped too close to an individual. 

Their eyes followed her every move. Phoenix felt exposed, the hair on the back of her neck standing, she felt as if one wrong move would have her killed. Not that she hadn't before but now, with all these creatures looking at her like prey, it made her heart race. As she neared the back of the room the girl stumbled to the mat in the corner. As far away as possible from the beings. The mat was just as stiff as the one in her old room. The pillow case was quite literally a burlap sack and the blanket was no more than a thin sheet. 

“At least I have a blanket.” she optimistically thought.  The second her knees touched the cushion she heard the sound of a strong electricity surge around her, causing her to involuntarily yelp. She frantically glanced around the room, no one seemed phased. She did manage to pick up on the slight discoloration of the white around her. Curiosity that she had forgotten she still had immediately gave her a wide eyed expression. She scooched close to the edge of the discoloration and stared at it. She blew on it and felt her own breath blow back. A smile graced her feature as she went to poke it. Her joy only increased, her hand felt fuzzy when she touched it. A part of hew realized she now had a smaller space to exist, but now she had a tingly wall, which was a decent trade off. She soon let her hand sprawl out over the barrier, seeing it grow slightly glitchy, but she enjoyed the tickling on her hand. Most of the other experiments had gone back to ignoring her at this point, but a few glares had returned because she was becoming an irritant.

Noticing the tension in the air, her smile immediately retreated as she looked down at her lap. Phoenix turned away hoping they would go back to trying to sleep. She decided today she wouldn’t focus on the barrier, instead she would cover herself with a sheet she never had before. After scampering on top of the mat, Phoenix took a glance around the room. As long as she stayed quiet and out of the way, no one would bother her. With a delicate maneuver, she snuggled herself under the sheet. Somehow, in the large, cold, and echoing room, Phoenix found herself just relieved she is no longer alone. Even if the people around her weren’t kind, they were like her.

……

Phoenix never wanted the silence ever again. She never wanted to go back to being alone ever again, but in moments like these she second guessed herself. The hallways outside of the doors echoed loud enough into the room where she was curled up. A scream far too violent to result in anything good. It was all the little girl could do to hide herself under the sheet and cover her ears as tightly as she could, but it could never block it out. “ kid.” She fainty heard a familiar voice call, but she didn’t make a move. The screaming continued to fill the room, it made her want to throw up. Her stomach churned as she heard a loud crash. Phoenix began to shake her head violently, then began to hit her head, trying to distract herself. “Kid!” the voice repeated, louder and angrier than before. It apparently was enough because it caused phoenix to peek out from under the thin sheet at the creature across from her. “I was worried you knocked yourself out or somethin'.” Phoenix didn’t smile at this, she instead flinched at the yells from the guards. Nothing the creature had said to her in the past ever seemed to help her. He snapped at her when she asked about the strange men, telling her that they were actually called the security. He always seemed to be angry with her, the more and more people disappeared the more frightened she would feel, and the meaner he would get. 

She faintly heard a tired sigh from the creature. “You got a name?” he sounded like he was straining to remove the growl from his voice. Phoenix looked at the creature and took a slow breath “...Phoenix?” “gee kid do you not even know your own-” just as he began, he stopped, took a deep breath, then started over “That’s a nice name… “ 

"Thank you…What's- what's your name?" 

Phoenix spoke hesitantly to not anger him again, she wasn’t sure how this snappy creature would react to her in general. The creature looked at Phoenix with an expression akin to bewilderment or frustration. After a few seconds of him gauging her expression his mouth twitched as he looked at the wall to his side, crossing his arms casually

 " 89P13."

 Phoenix scrunched her nose at this. "That's not a name.. that's just a lot of numbers."

The small creature took a deep breath in and closed his eyes. His ear twitched before  opening his mouth to explain.

"Well-"

"What's something you like?" 

Subject 89P13 didn't know how to respond to this small child. She was genuinely curious, he could see it but he knew he couldn't play into her little game. Getting to know people didn't help anyone here. He honestly had no idea why he even tried to spark up a conversation anyway.

"Doesn't matter. " He ended the conversation as quickly as it had started. Padding back to his mat, he sat down, back facing the small girl. It wouldn't help to talk to her. 

Phoenix stared at the angry little creature's back. That was her first conversation that had lasted over a minute. A newfound determination and desperation to not let it end filled her chest, her fingers twitched with eagerness, because this was also the first time 89P13 hadn't completely snapped at her.

“You know your fur is really pretty” she spoke louder than before, determined to keep his attention. 

Subject 89P13’s fur bristled instantly, his head snapped to look at her with the most shocked face phoenix had ever seen. “What!?” he croaked out.

Phoenix couldn't help but giggle at this, “your fur! It looks soft! The color is also the opposite of the walls.” A matter of fact tone laced her words as she perked up.

Subject 89P13 genuinely was bewildered. “The walls?” he echoed. All he got was a curt nod from the little girl. 

"They sometimes hurt my eyes. They get too bright. The lights hurt sometimes too. But they tell me to not talk about it. They used to say I talk too much.  I learned that they won't hurt me as much if I stay quiet " Phoenix took a moment to actually breathe. 

Subject 89P13 stared dumbfounded at the little girl. He honestly felt like he just opened a can of worms he wouldn’t be able to close again. 

"That's why I said your fur is pretty. It's nice to look at and doesn't hurt my eyes. And it looks warm. Are you always warm? Or do you get cold? "

The small creature had no idea how to respond to this. The fact that someone, this tiny girl nonetheless, was trying to continue a conversation. She was clueless, she had to be. Phoenix was staring at him with a hopeful expression on her face. A part of him couldn’t actually conjure the energy to snap at her, so with a resounding huff, he responded.

"Uh- I don't get cold. "

Phoenix grinned at his answer and tried again at her first question " What do you like? "

Subject 89P13 found himself answering even though he'd have a better time not even acknowledging the runt.

"I like sleeping." he answered shortly, only to catch the girl’s excitement dull. He growled to himself before giving a better answer. “ I like making things. “ 

He felt his stomach churn as he heard an excited gasp, he had to close his eyes to try and hide his grimace. A soft pitter-patter of Phoenix's feet echoed throughout the room as she got close to the barrier.

" What kind of things? " She asked in wonder.

“Great,” Subject 89P13 groaned to himself.

“ I build things like… “ Subject 89P13 looked for the simplest of words to describe his ‘hobby’ “remotes..?”

“ remotes? “ Phoenix scrunched her nose. "That doesn't sound exciting" she thought. "For what?" 

" For- things. "

"What kind of things?" 

Subject 89P13 was growing annoyed with her never ending curiosity. " Bomb things. Now stop asking questions." 

Phoenix tried to stay quiet, she really did but she just needed to ask one more little question.

"What do you need bombs for? Are you a spy-" 

" Just Shut UP! " he barked at Phoenix. 

The young girl flinched at his raised tone, her expression immediately falling. She looked away and shuffled back to her mat. She ducked under her sheet and turned to the wall, she would’ve apologized but decided being quiet was better. She attempted to not let it get to her, but of course, her shaky breathing echoed through the room. After a little bit she quieted down, her eyelids growing heavy. She welcomed sleep the second it came.

…… 

At some point, Phoenix had become old enough to be awake during the testing. She didn't know what marked her ready for that, but over the last 15 times, Phoenix had been poked, prodded, and injected with a wide arrangement of needles and liquids. On some special days she would be knocked unconscious, then wake up with a large bandage somewhere with stitched. Today was one of those days.

She was now laying on her bed already tracing the bruises forming across her body. The damage most definitely internal this time. There was a new pain behind her eyes, almost that akin to a migraine. The more she thought about it the worse it got, so she tried to turn her attention to other things. 

People began to disappear a short while after she arrived. She didn't really understand where they were taken, subject 89P13 never seemed to tell her, so she decided not to pry. As of now, the room she once felt threatened in was now becoming an empty cage like the one she was trapped in for as long as she could remember.  Subject 89P13 was still around and every once in a while they would have a small conversation, his patience for her seeming to improve the older she got. There seemed to be a moment that neither one was going anywhere, and neither one wanted to. 

Today seemed to be one of subject 89P13's test days, due to his absence. So it was silent, the stuffy and loud silence she had grown to despise. The one that haunted her every waking moment. She hated it more than she could comprehend. Phoenix huffed and diverted her attention to a way to keep the silence to a minimum. Humming to herself she discovered seemed to work. For better or for worse, there wasn't anyone in here to be bothered by it anyway… 

So little Phoenix sat there humming out different tunes, building upon her previous works. In the end she started coming up with lyrics too, none of which made much sense but that wasn't the point. It was a shred of happiness and she grasped on to it. One of the few things she truly believes is her own. One of the only things that they don't own.

A loud screech of the door interrupted her song, making Phoenix jump. On instinct she scooted herself onto her mat and pulled her pillow close, keeping her gaze on the ground. 

The loud footsteps of the guards were a silent promise of her companion returning, so despite her fear of them, their presence was welcome. 

There was a pained grunt and a loud thud coming from across the room, then the all familiar whir of electricity. Then the footsteps faded, and their presence was gone with a resounded slam of the door. 

The sound still echoing a few seconds after they disappeared. Once it was silent, Phoenix could just about make out and strained breathing from across the room.

Slowly, Phoenix looked up from the ground and was greeted with the all familiar brown creature in a fetal position. Her gut seemed to weigh thousands of pounds at the sight of  new electrical attachments littering his back; the fur was freshly shaved and the skin was grotesquely raw. She set her pillow to the side as delicately as possible and crawled to the edge of her barrier. All she could do for a while was stare in horror, her eyes watering.  

"Are you ok?" She barely whispered out. 

The room took her voice and easily carried it to the creature despite her initial volume. In return, he growled out something Incoherent, his back still to her. The strain in his voice was palpable, and seemed to end with a stunted wail in pain. He clearly wasn't able to speak even if he wanted to. 

Phoenix shut her mouth and felt helpless. This was worse than she had ever even imagined. Her own aches seemed to disappear and were replaced with dread. Or was it anger?

Silence filled the air, consistently being broken with a strained groan from 89P13. It was all she could do to try to look for something to help him. All she could do was draw a blank. And so she remained sitting at the edge of her barrier, feeling small, well, smaller. 

…

…

…

" a…at least your fur is still pretty…?"

A bark of a laugh that sounded more like a gasp of pain was the response she got. " you.. and your thing with fur- Gah- !"

89P13 could hardly speak without it feeling like his insides were being ripped apart. Yet somehow he managed to laugh. His grimace was practically a sneer, but the corners of it turned up. "This kid" he silently laughed to himself. 

Phoenix's frown turned into a look of horror as she saw the small creature force himself to roll over. She got the smaller glimpse of parts of his skin breaking and red peaking out. Then she met his eyes. " your… your back was red " she spoke as softly as she could. 

89P13 couldn't help but slightly grin at this. " what's n-new… " he strained through clenched teeth. 

Phoenix scowled at the creature, which honestly amused him. "Are you going to lecture me-?" He quirked a brow, as his body started to sweat. 

"Please, don't disappear." She spoke just as softly as she usually did. 

And there it was. The thing 89P13 wanted to avoid, attachment. Be it the strain it was to speak, or the sudden shock, he honestly couldn't tell, but he just stared. 

"I don't want to be alone again." Phoenix was unashamed to admit it. It was more selfish than she wanted to acknowledge, but it was true. Right now, she didn't know what else she wanted to say anyway. 

On 89P13's side, he was practically a statue. He swallowed dryly and soon winced in pain.

Taking a shaky breath, " me neither, kid " he barely muttered out. 

They met each other's gaze, in a silent promise. Phoenix wanted to say much more, but she knew nothing would've really mattered. 89P13's gaze softened and after a few seconds, he blinked slowly before rolling onto his stomach, shutting his eyes fully. The blood now clearly staining the edges of his fur. 

With that she turned back to her wall and layed down. Her aches weren’t gone but thinking about his injuries made Phoenix feel oddly numb to her own ailments. She didn't have metal in her body, well there was none that she knew of, and here she was being sad about it when he was in a lot more pain then her. 

As she snuggled onto her mat she thought of all the ways to make him feel better. Maybe she could make a remote. He liked remotes. 

Phoenix decided that someday, she would make a remote for 89P13.

[skoolbully-a]

.

[dollwritesarchive]

𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓂𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒 ⎹ 𝓜.𝓜.

fandom ; marvel / the defenders masterlist

featuring ; dark!matt murdock x reader (f)

rating ; nsfw; none of my work is meant to be viewed by minors ( anyone under the age of eighteen ), and i will happily block any that interact with my posts or my blog.

content warning ; all smut, forced breeding, noncon, somewhat implied age gap if you squint (reader is 18+), dark fic / i am not responsible for your media consumption

summary ; matt murdock didn’t want money when he won your father’s case for him; all he wanted was ownership of you.

word count ; 1.1k / mini musing

attention ; do not repost or translate, even with ‘credit’. just don’t do it. reblog instead of like. leave feedback if you enjoyed.

the naughty list writing event

you never expected to find yourself like this— inverted with your legs kicked up and spread wide. you didn’t even know that it was possible to see your calves parallel to your face, but Matt Murdock had made it possible, forced you into the most vulnerable position you’d ever been in, so he could take everything he wanted from you. your mind has gone blank; you can’t find a single, coherent thought to fill the void because he keeps pounding them out of you. you’ve no choice but to watch as his manhood, thick and riddled with bulging veins and wrapped in a thin and clear prophylactic, forces its way into your abused core, relentless and repetitive. you grit your teeth, tasting the lace of your panties stuffed into your mouth, and squeal (albeit muffled), and ball your helpless hands into fists above your head, but it doesn’t relieve any of the pressure built up in your abdomen.

“What’s the matter, princess, huh?” he teases, through tight lips as his jaw works. he’s worked himself into a sweat, and you can feel droplets of it rain down on to your skin. “Don’t like being fucking ruined?”

you whimper a defiant, “Nn—nn!” from behind the gag and shake your head fervently.

Matt only chortles. “Then why are you gripping me so tight, like you never want me coming outta this fucking cunt—” your face heats up with humiliation, but he doesn’t stop there. one hand bracing himself against your ass cheek, the other flees to find your swollen clit and rub in furious circles that has you mewling and trembling under him. “Sweet, little pussy is really sensitive for someone who isn’t enjoying herself. You’re not lying to me, are you?”

your head lolls to the side, cheek resting against the cold, hard floor and you stare up at him through a hazy gaze. it feels too good to pretend it doesn’t, so you moan for him. it drives him mad, his rhythm becoming erratic.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he grunts in between mind-numbing, full thrusts into your spent, limp frame, “a broken whore that loves her owner’s cock. Whining and moaning while I’m balls deep in you because you know you were made to take it good. Fuck, yes…!” Matt delivers a cruel slap to your thigh, the sickening sound of his palm against your slick skin making you dizzy before the sting sets in, but he’s fucking you so goddamn hard and deep that you hardly notice the pain at all.

your thighs are quivering, toes curled tight, and for all the noises you can make, none are more than cock-drunk babbling, but Matt doesn’t seem to mind. if anything, he’s eating it up— grinning whilst baring his gritted teeth while he decimates your body from above, gifting your shaking thigh with another, brutal slap.

“Goddamn, you’re going to make me cum, princess—“ he’s hardly able to get the words out, voice strained and breathing labored. “I bet you want it, don’t you? Deep in that fertile womb of yours? Tell me, beg me to breed you like a bitch in heat.”

you’re lost in a raging storm of euphoria, but that’s still enough to sober you, albeit only slightly. “No, no…” pushing at the gag with your tongue, you try to pronounce the most audible and distinguished No you can muster, shaking your head. you know he hears it, because you can see the corner of his mouth twitching, as if disappointed that you didn’t beg for him to finish inside of you. “Please, Mr. Murdock…”

his teeth sink into his lip and he grips himself at the base, pulling himself free from your body and leaving a miserable, barren feeling where he’d previously stretched you, he takes a couple of deep breaths. “I know you’re scared, princess, you’ve never been knocked up, before.” chuckling under his breath, one hand rubs your sore, inner thigh whilst the other toys with the elastic band of the condom. your heart pounds so hard that you’re certain it’s going to leap into your throat, but you just keep shaking your head. “But, see, I won your daddy’s big, bad legal case for him, and the only thing I required as payment is you— to be able to make you my personal fucktoy, do whatever I want to you.”

carefully, and dauntingly slowly, Matt begins to work the rubber off of him, and you struggle harder. your legs try to snap together, but are impossible to close from this angle. “And what I want right now is to put a little bastard in your belly.” he smirks, and it’s a terribly wicked sight, holding the condom up for you to see, before he tosses it on to you. either his aim was impeccable or if by some terrible coincidence, the condom hits your cheek and stays there, slick with lubricant and the smell of your sex.

“Please, don’t—“ you beg, fruitless, of course. “Please!”

“Just lay there like a good, little cumslut, and take it.”

he plunges himself back into you, wasting no time in resuming the merciless rhythm as if he’d never even paused. hilt deep with every thrust. it feels so much different when he’s raw inside of you, warm and sinful. you can feel him, throbbing, as he ruts into you. you whine and beg and cry out, but your eyes are rolling back, your walls are fluttering around his cock, elated spasms milking him for all he’s worth. you’re getting off on it; coming undone while Matt Murdock breeds you like a beast.

a couple more, deep and powerful bucks of his hips and he’s forced himself as deep into you as possible, both palms on your thighs to keep them wide open so as not to deter him from reaching such depths, and he moans when he cums, voice shaky and jaw slack. “How does that feel, huh?” hardly louder than a whisper, his hips twitch, manhood pulsating as he splatters your insides with his seed. a growing warmth, no matter how wrong you know it to be, elicits a flustered whine from your lips; it’s the only form of response you can give him, but it seems to be enough to gain his approval. “See? All that begging for nothing, you were just being a little drama queen, weren’t you? Now, I’ve got you all fucked out and full, and you fucking love it.” one of his palms finds your forehead, somewhat unceremonious, and pushes your hair back in a surprisingly soft gesture, rocking his hips against you in two, experimental, soft thrusts to work himself around your depths.

you gasp, choking on the gag, your eyes wide but glassy. you’ve already cum, so all he was doing now was teasing, torturing your body because he can.

because he owns it.

[221bshrlocked]

I. Be My First

Shiny & New Masterlist

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader

Words: 4546 (welp)

Warnings: Awkward convos. Oral sex (female receiving). Slight overstimulation. Penetrative, Unprotected sex (wrap the shlong before you king kong my dudes). 

A/N: This is all because @pastel-0-princess​ decided to whore around on my blog and tell me that Pedro would probably help out a friend lose her virginity. Blame (or thank) her. Also, this was supposed to be a short drabble but what the fuck?? Not sorry yall. So not sorry. And this isn’t beta’d. Please let me know how I’m doing in the comments my dudes :)

You were spiraling down. There was no doubt about it. It's not like this was ever a huge deal but now that everyone was sharing their best and worst one-night stands, you couldn't not think about it. You were thankful, though, that no one asked you about your obviously non-existent experiences because that would have been awkward. As the night went on, you got quieter and less enthusiastic about finally being able to hang out with everyone. It didn't help either that this fucking pandemic made it harder to start dating, let alone remotely get with anyone for a night. You wanted to have sex but not to the point where you might get the stupid virus from some asshole who would probably lie just to get laid.

So busy drinking your fourth, no, maybe fifth glass of wine, you didn't realize that everyone already went home and it was just you left. You zoned out again, staring at the clock ticking on the wall as you continued to think of your lack of experience, not noticing the weight falling on the couch next to you until there a nudge to your side.

"Huh what?" You turned around and saw Pedro eyeing you suspiciously, blinking at him in confusion until he took the glass of wine from you and placed it on the table.

"You've been quiet all day long. What's going on with you?" You hated how worried he sounded.

"What're you talking about?" You tried to play stupid, hoping he would just drop it because this was not the kind of chat you wanted to have, especially with someone like him.

God. Not him.

"Sweetheart, don't pull that shit with me. It works on friends your age but it doesn't work on me. The fuck is going on?" He raised an eyebrow at you and you hated how intimidating he suddenly looked when not an hour ago, he was laughing at the most childish jokes ever.

"I'm not young!!" You thought he said something about you being young to him but you didn't pay it any mind, leaning forward to take the wine again. He pulled you back by your shoulder, scooting closer to you and taking your hand in his before he started tracing down your fingers.

"All jokes aside, you know you can tell me anything right? I can keep a secret."

"I know you can...you work for Disney." You smiled when he laughed at the comment, feeling goosebumps erupt on your skin the more he touched you.

"Hermosa..." It was more of a warning than an endearment and you rolled your eyes before hiding your face between his shoulder and the couch.

"Pedro, it's so embarrassing and you're going to think I'm stupid." You mumbled into the cushions and felt him laugh at you before trying to move away.

"Never. Everyone's going through something and it might not be a big deal for me but it's totally fine if it is for you. Come on, tell me. I've never seen you like this and I want to help out. Please." It was the last plea that pushed you to tell him and you hoped that he wouldn't laugh at you.

"It's...ugh, it's just that...everyone was talking about their best and worst experiences in bed and I- I felt like...god damn it. Can you let this go please?"

"No, tell me." He was adamant, never once breaking eye contact. Had he not been rubbing your hands, you would chickened out.

"I felt a little left out...a little I don't know, ridiculous." You looked away from him and stared at his hands, feeling something strange in the pit of your stomach when you saw how much larger his were than yours.

"Why?"

"I've- I've never had...you know." You whispered the confession and prayed that he didn't hear you, that this was all a really awkward dream and you'd wake up any moment.

"You've never had sex before?" Pedro's voice squeaked a little and you dropped his hands, attempting to stand up and move away from him. But he was pulling you back to the couch, not bothering to get you off of him when you fell across his lap.

"Sorry sorry, I didn't mean to react that way. It's just...I find that a little weird." Pedro's grip tightened around you when you tried to move off of him again.

"Ugh see this is exactly why I didn't want to tell you anything. Please can we just drop it." You rubbed your face and didn't dare look at him, afraid to find something hurtful in his eyes.

"No no sweetheart that's not...god, I didn't fucking mean it that way. I- listen. I'm not going to lie, I've known you for a while now and I find that hard to believe." Pedro's voice was overwhelmingly soothing and you peeked through your fingers to look at him and try to see if he was just pulling you leg.

"W-why?"

"Well, you're this really smart, successful, pretty young thing and- it doesn't add up sweetheart. Are you waiting for marriage or something?" You could tell he was choosing his words so you didn't misunderstand him again, the expression on his face more inviting and calming than you originally thought. Come to think of it, this conversation wasn't as awkward as you thought it would be.

"No. There was never a time for it you know. And...and no one was ever interested."

"Now I know for sure that's a fucking lie." Pedro took his glasses off and threw them on the table before meeting your gaze. He saw the look you were giving him and shook his head in annoyance. "Sweetheart, I've seen tons of people flirting with you whenever we go out."

"Uhhh, you might need to get new prescriptions because I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"Goddamn, and here I thought you were never interested...you were just clueless." You smacked his chest when he whispered the teasing comment, unable to hold back from giggling when he threw you back and laid on top of you.

It was quiet for a few moments and your smile faltered when you noticed the way his eyes shifted to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

"P-pedro..." You whispered his name, mustering up all the courage in the world before asking him what has been on your mind since the beginning of this little chat.

"Yeah sweetheart?"

"Can you...would you- could you be my first?" The question was out now and there was no taking it back. You hoped this wouldn't ruin whatever friendship you had because losing him would break you.

Your stomach dropped when he sat up and moved away from you.

"I- oh god...Pedro please, forget I said anything. Fuck fuck, I don't know what came over me and-"

"Stop." One word from him and you instantly grew quiet. He finally turned to look at you and you swore his eyes were more dilated than a few seconds ago.

"You drank a lot tonight and-"

"Please spare me the fucking excuses. I'm a big girl Pedro you can tell me if you don't want to fuck me. But don't start with the bullshit-" He was on you in the blink of an eye, pushing you into his couch and settling between your thighs. Your eyes widened in surprise as soon as you felt his hard cock rubbing deliciously at your heated core.

"The mouth you got on you...filthy little girl." He smiled when your breath hitched and before you could respond, Pedro leaned down and captured your lips with his in a soft kiss. You didn't dare move let alone try to fight his dominance. He pressed his lips harder against yours and you parted them as soon as he bucked his hips into you. A moan rose from throat as soon as Pedro snuck his tongue into your mouth and swirled it around your tongue.

His grip tightened around your wrists, and you felt your panties dampen the harder he pushed against you. Pedro was pleased with the soft sounds you were making, pulling away for a second to catch his breath.

"Is this okay sweetheart?" Pedro asked as he licked and nipped at your jaw, biting down a little harshly when you didn't respond to him right away.

"Y-yeah...yes. It's good. So good. You feel...oh fuck." You couldn't care less about your lack of coherence but from the sounds of it, Pedro enjoyed the effect he was having on you immensely.

"Please...oh god, Pedro-" You managed to loosen one hand from his grasp, digging it into his back when you felt him move against you.

"Come on." Pedro rolled off of you and stood up, pulling you along with you and waiting until you could stand properly on your feet before pushing you through the living room.

"What- where are we-"

"I'm not about to fuck you on my couch querida...the first time you have sex will be in a proper bed. You deserve that at the very least...and so much more." He squeezed your waist and you swore beneath your breath, wondering how this man could still be single.

You felt out of place when he walked you into his room. But as you looked around, you realized that the style and the colors were totally him. He left you standing in front of his bed and your eyes followed him around as he turned on the three lamps around the room. The bed was cloaked with the dim lights and you thanked God that he didn't turn on the ceiling lights.

Pedro must have noticed your nervousness because he took your hands in his and kissed both of them.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to baby? We could forget we ever had this conversation and you can just sleep over in the other room." His voice was soothing and you found it difficult to look away from his lips as he continued to whisper his assurances to you.

"I- I'm just nervous. You're probably really experienced and I'm going to be bad at this and then you're not going to talk to me anymore and-" You started mumbling again and bit your lower lip nervously when Pedro let go of your hands and grabbed your neck.

"Stop stop stop. Please. I need you to breathe, okay. You're going to be fine, and I'm going to take my time with you. I'll take care of you baby I promise. We'll take it nice and slow, and if you want to stop at any point, you tell me. I'm going to trust you to tell me if it gets too much okay?"

"Y-yes."

"I'll get you ready for me baby don't worry." Pedro noticed the way you gulped at the pet name and he couldn't hold back from smiling mischievously at you. "Do you like it when I call you 'baby'?" He asked as he walked you back until your legs hit the edge of his bed.

"Yes."

"Goddamn baby, the way you're looking at me...I'm so fucking hard for you right now. Knowing that I get to be the first to touch this body...kiss it...mark it...pleasure every inch of it. You've no idea the things I want to do to you. So sweet, so fucking innocent." His words shot straight to your cunt and you felt adrenaline rush through your veins the lower his hands moved.

"May I?" Pedro pulled at the edge of your shirt and you nodded in approval, not trusting your voice to speak any time soon.

"You're doing so good baby...so so good." His voice was hoarse and you sighed when he finally lifted the shirt and threw it away. Pedro didn't waste any time, grabbing the button of your pants and asking you once again if he could take them off.

"Please."

He smiled at you before he unzipped your pants and rolled them down your legs, kneeling down in the process to help you take them off. You've kept your hands to yourself all this time but as soon as you felt his stubble brush your inner thigh, you leaned forward and grabbed his shoulders to support your weight, afraid you'd fall from how intimate the gesture felt.

Pedro trailed his lips across your hips, leaving a wet kiss at the center of your stomach before standing up again.

"Baby...you're shaking." He snaked his hands across your back and pulled you into his chest, nuzzling in the crook of your neck and breathing in deeply. You wrapped your arms around his neck and allowed him to do whatever he wanted.

"It's because it's you..."

At the response, Pedro pulled away and tilted his head to the side, the reaction making you smile nervously before resting your forehead against his chest.

"What do you mean?"

"You- you must know of the effect you have on people." You prayed he didn't read between the lines because it would make things way more emotional and you weren't sure if you could deal with that right now.

"You mean this effect?" Without warning, Pedro unwrapped one arm from around you, pushing the palm of his hand against your cunt and rubbing your wet panties until he felt your knees almost give out.

"P-pedro....fuck, oh god. Don't stop, please...feels so good." You threw your head back and choked on air when you felt his teeth dig into your neck as he continued to put more pressure on your pussy. "You're so wet for me baby...could smell how much this sweet, innocent cunt wants me. Mierda, and those damn noises. Go on baby, moan for me. Moan for me...tell me how much you want me."

"Yes, yes...please. Want more, n-need more Pedro. Please just-"

"Fucking hell...I need to taste you. Will you let me put my mouth on this pretty cunt? Please baby...wanna pleasure you." You weren't sure who sounded more desperate and you held onto Pedro as he lowered you down on his bed. You barely managed to open your eyes when you felt his weight lift off of you and you watched as he took his shirt off before aggressively pulling down his jeans. Your eyes widened when you saw the impressive bulge on his boxer briefs.

"Don't worry baby, I'll get you nice and wet for me." He winked at you right as pushed open your thighs and you said nothing as he slowly rolled down your panties. You watched as he eyed them for a few seconds before throwing them to the floor.

"Aren't you the prettiest thing in the world." You heart skipped a beat every time he moaned those sweet words to you and it wasn't until he lowered himself down and kissed just below your belly that you finally snapped back to reality.

"Fuck...you're killing me Y/N. Knowing I'm the first guy to touch this pussy makes me so fucking hard for you." Pedro rubbed softly at your slit and he licked his lower lip when he saw slick seeping out of your cunt and wetting his fingers. Looking at you one last time, he made sure you were holding his gaze before he leaned forward and licked a long stripe across your outer lips.

"Oh fffuck..Pedro-"

"That's it...scream for me baby. Let me hear what I do to you." He growled and bit your inner thigh before diving back in, tongue swirling around your engorged clit until your back arched off the bed. Forcing yourself to pay more attention to him, you opened your eyes and looked down, feeling your stomach erupt with butterflies when you saw the feral look he had in his eyes as he ate you out. His gaze never faltered and he continued to stare at you as he slowly pushed two fingers into your wet pussy. You combed your fingers through his hair and pulled, almost coming right then and there when you felt his hand squeeze your waist and pull you impossibly closer to his mouth. He pushed his fingers until you could feel the palm of his hand, releasing a deep breath when he began to move them in and out of you.

"Pedro...pedro- you're...oh god, y-your tongue- I...I'm-"

He somehow knew what you were trying to ask for, pushing down on one of your thighs to make more room for him as he leaned forward and took your clit between his teeth, sucking harshly on it and passing his fingers roughly against your inner walls until he felt you shaking under his touch. You pulled off the bed completely, scratching his head and begging him for more as you came on his lips. He didn't slow down, continuing to assault your cunt and rub his mustache against your slit until you fell back on the bed and pleaded for him to give you a moment of respite.

But something snapped in him and before he knew it, he was kissing his way up your body as he began to push his fingers in and out of you at a rough pace. You bit into his pillow when you felt a second orgasm creeping up on you, losing all sense of time when Pedro pushed down your bra and spat on your hardened peak before pinching it between his teeth.

Your legs began to shake, and you screamed his name over and over again like a prayer as he brought you to your release once more. You dug your nails into his neck and pulled him up to you, smashing your lips with his and tasting yourself just as he began to slow down his touches.

By the time you collected your thoughts, Pedro was leaning on his elbow next to you and drawing patterns across your skin. You didn't know when exactly he managed to take off your bra and you didn't care.

"How was that baby?" Pedro cooed at you, massaging and dipping his fingers into the curves of your skin until you looked at him.

"L-like you don't know...oh fuck, I think I blacked out for a hot second." You rubbed at your forehead and blinked a few times to clear your sight.

"That good huh?" You could hear the smirk in his voice and rolled over to hide in his chest. Pedro leaned down and began to kiss down your jaw, making you sigh heavily against him before you wrapped your arms around his back and brought him flush to you. You felt something hard nudge at your thighs and giggled when he bucked his hips against you some more.

"Pedro...I- I want to taste you." You pleaded with him, hoping he'd teach you how to pleasure him.

"Nuh uh...tonight's about you baby." He replied immediately, continuing to leave a trail of wet kisses across your heated skin.

"But I want to-" You whined at him, yelping in surprise when you felt his teeth dig into the top of your breasts.

"Sweetheart, I'm not sure I'm going to last if I feel those pretty lips wrapped around my cock." It was such a blunt confession and you felt your cunt flutter around nothing at the thought of having this much of an effect on this man.

"Fuck...okay. I'm ready...I'm ready for you. Please, wanna feel you inside me Pedro. Wanna feel this cock in my pussy.  Please." You grew impatient, almost clawing at his smooth skin the longer he took to give you what you wanted, what you craved for.

"I got you hermosa, I got you...relax for me." Pedro mouthed at your jaw and you hated how good it felt to have his mustache skimming over your skin.

He momentarily pulled away from you, pushing down his boxers and kicking them off before returning to rest between your thighs. You looked down for a second and saw how hard and thick he was, unable to mask your nervousness when the head of his cock nudged at your entrance.

"Fuck...you're so- so big. What if you don't fit?" Pedro was sure you weren't aware of the effect you were having on him just by saying those few words. It was almost as if his brain switched off and let the caveman side of him take over.

"Mierda...you keep talking like that and I might just cum before we get started. Shit...it'll fit baby, it'll fit. You've been such a good girl for me...don't you want to know what it feels like being filled up?" You nodded immediately, grabbing his hand when you felt him move off of you.

"I'm just grabbing a condom Y/N."

"Wait- is it...I mean, you know I obviously don't have anything. If- I want to feel you, without anything...if you're clean that is, and you don't mind. Or maybe you do? Fuck, what am I asking right now, I-" Pedro fell back against you and shut you up with his lips, rubbing your arms up and down until you melted into the sheets.

"There's nothing I want more than to fuck you raw baby...I'm as clean as a whistle. Are you sure though?" Pedro reassured you, and you

"Yes. Y-yes. I am, I- I want to feel you...every inch of you." You were frantic in your answer, hoping he wasn't too turned off by your over-excitement.

"Jesus fucking Christ okay...you're killing me sweetheart. Are you ready for me querida?" Pedro asked and you felt him slip one hand between the two of you right before he rubbed your wet slit with the head of his cock. He was painfully hard and hot and you whimpered at the thought of knowing what was about to happen.

"Please."

With that one word, Pedro pecked you on the lips and kept close to you as he slowly pushed into your pussy. You furrowed your eyebrows at the painful intrusion, shutting your eyes and pushing your head back to focus on feeling him.

"Fuck..fffuck- you're so goddamn tight baby. Relax for me, go no...breathe and relax your muscles for me. Let me in Y/N...let me in. Shit, so tight and wet and warm around my dick. That's it...you feel so good sweetheart." Pedro continued to whisper sweet words against your skin, waiting until you finally relaxed your muscles around him before snapping his hips forward and sheathing himself completely inside you.

You felt the breathe get knocked out of you for a moment right before his lips met yours in an intimate kiss. He didn't move and you swore you could feel his muscles buzz with energy. But fuck if it wasn't the sexiest thing ever knowing that he was holding back for your sake. He kept you in his arms and hissed when you clenched around him.

"Pedro...move, I- I need to feel you move. Please." He couldn't deny you such a request even if he tried, not when you were begging him to take his pleasure from you. Slowly, Pedro pulled back and thrust in again, and you moaned his name as he set a soft pace. You could feel every ridge and vein of his cock passing against your tight walls, the head of his dick hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. Neither of you said anything as he held himself up and pushed into you over and over again. You threw your hands around his neck and watched as he lost himself in you. The man was more handsome than ever with sweat dripping down his forehead and his hair sticking out in all places. His bronze skin was damp and shined in the dim light of the room, and you wondered if he really didn't know of the effect he had on people.

To know that you were the one bringing him this much pleasure twisted your chest with pride and you shut your eyes to enjoy feeling him move against you.

"Tightest fucking cunt ever...you feel so good baby. So so good, squeezing the fuck out of me. Shit shit, I'm- god damn it I'm already close." He picked up the pace, finding the sounds of his skin slapping against yours way sexier than it should be. Looking down, Pedro watched as your lips parted and your eyes shut in ecstasy.

What a sight.

"C-cum for me Pedro." You groaned, about to reach down to rub at your clit when Pedro beat you to it. As soon as you felt his thumb violently push against the hardened nub, you were coming around his cock, cunt fluttering around him as he continued to fuck into you. Pedro swore and yelled into the night air, throwing his head back and continuing to rub at where you were joined until he felt the familiar pressure growing in his balls.

"W-where?"

"Inside ple-" You didn't have to finish your words, sighing heavily as you felt an unfamiliar warmth fill you up. Pedro fell against you, breathing harshly into the crook of your neck as he came in hot strings of cum and filled your pussy. You were shaking beneath him, pulling him closer as he moaned and licked at your flushed skin until he came down from his high.

The two of you spent a couple of minutes basking in pleasure and you hissed when he finally pulled out and rolled to the side. His eyes never once left you and he waited until your breathing was back to normal before standing up and walking to his bathroom. Your thoughts almost ran away with you but you saw him come out of the bathroom with a damp cloth and felt your heart rest immediately.

"Here, let me do that." You tried to take the small towel from him but he shook his head and asked you to rest back. As softly as possible so as to not hurt you, Pedro dabbed the skin between your thighs with immense focus, avoiding any part of your skin that made you hiss when he passed over it. When he was done, he got up and threw the towel in the laundry basket before slithering back into the bed and pulling you into his arms.

You didn't question once, knowing that if he was uncomfortable with this, he would definitely tell you.

"So...how was it?" Pedro asked after a while, looking down at you with a huge smile on his face.

"I'm pretty sure this was probably the best sex I'll ever have," you didn't shy away from telling him the truth, frowning when he laughed and rolled his eyes at you.

"I'm serious...I highly doubt every guy out there will ever prioritize my pleasure, let alone be this careful with me." He leaned back against his chest and began to draw patterns on his soft belly.

"I didn't hurt you?" Pedro asked again and you shook your head against him before kissing his side.

"No...you were perfect." You smiled when you saw his dimples appear at your admission.

"So were you..."

"Thank you...for all of this."

"Thank you for trusting me with this...now come on, you need to get some rest." He pulled the covers on top of you and kissed your forehead before shutting off the nightstand lamp.

"Night Pedro."

"Good night baby."

Tagging some peeps that might be interested: @pastel-0-princess​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @libbymouse​ @its--fandom--darling​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​ @princess76179​ @cheekygeek05​ @miraclesoflove​  @sleep-tight1​ @bananer62​  @mothandpidgeon​

[michaelgovehateblog]

Piggy in the Middle

Queen Elizabeth x Michael Gove, Michael Gove x Matt Hancock, 1500 words

“Michael Gove and Sarah Vine to divorce.” She knew it was bad, but Elizabeth’s heart couldn’t help but skip a beat when she saw the headlines. She had spent years forcing herself to ignore how she really felt about Michael and pretending the flirty looks and comments they shared were meaningless or all in her head; after all, they were both married, and publicly at that, especially in the case of her and Philip. And it’s not that she didn’t love Philip, because she of course did, but there was something about Gove and his pig-like face that just drew her in. And now she was rid of Philip, and Michael and Sarah were splitting up – maybe there was a chance for them.

Not that they would be able to go public with it if anything even did happen between them. As far as the country knew, Elizabeth was still mourning Philip, just putting on a brave face and soldiering on without him. The public probably wouldn’t be able to deal with her moving on so soon. She sighed – her life as a parasite was so difficult.

Elizabeth was so lost in her thoughts she almost didn’t hear the knock at her door, and subsequent voice.

“Your Majesty? It’s 12, we’re scheduled to leave now.”

“Of course, I’m coming now.” She responded, and stood up to leave, making sure to glance in the mirror to check she still looked presentable. Everything was still pristine: icy white grey hairs all perfectly in place and nude lipstick completely un-smudged. She was wearing a long royal blue (her signature colour) coat with large buttons of a slightly softer blue colour, all of which were done up. This was worn over a classy floral-patterned dress, which wasn’t visible under the jacket. Perched on top of her head was an elaborate hat made from material the exact same colour as the coat and adorned with white and blue flowers. The shoes she wore were a standard pair of elegant black heels and the look was finished off with a pair of black gloves.

Satisfied the outfit was perfectly uncreased as always, Elizabeth left the room to head to the whatever event it was this time, she didn’t really care. Mostly she just showed up at these things for a bit of good PR and so people would continue believe she works hard and really cares about the common people (Which she didn’t obviously. Why would she.) Although, she was certain that someone had told her that this event would have many politicians also in attendance, so she was hopeful that she might encounter a certain cabinet member.

As per usual, Elizabeth was finding the event mind-numbingly boring, just endless shaking hands with forgettable people she was supposed to pretend to be interested in. But then she spotted him. And at the same moment she saw him, Michael glanced in her direction and they were making direct eye contact. She gave him a shy smile, which he returned as he started walking towards her, not breaking eye contact.

“Your Majesty,” said Michael, extending his arm to shake hands, “How are you today?” They shook hands, Michael noticing how dry and wrinkly Elizabeth’s felt, and her in turn mentally noting the bizarre clamminess of his, both of which only increased each person’s attraction to the other.

“I’m doing wonderfully,” she responded, “And thoroughly enjoying this lovely event.” she made sure to add, aware of how many people were probably in earshot. “But what about yourself? I heard the news. It must be a difficult time for you.”

Michael’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing this; he couldn’t believe that the Queen actually cared enough about him to pay attention to the news about him and his (soon to be ex) wife. He had always felt there was some kind of connection between the two of them but told himself he was imagining it – what other option did he have. But unusually for his cowardly personality, he got a sudden burst of confidence, and was shocked to hear himself talking.

“Ma’am, I think I need to step outside to get some fresh air. Would you be interested in joining me for a walk?” He hadn’t had confidence to do anything like that since his coked-up days of 20 years ago. Well, he always said 20 years ago, but those close to him, such as Matt Hancock, knew he was prone to enjoy a smidge of the substance of an evening.

“Yes, I would enjoy that a lot.” replied Elizabeth, much to Michael’s delight. He offered out his elbow, purely out of politeness, of course, which she accepted, outwardly calmly but very eagerly inside. A walk outside would probably mean time properly alone, where other people couldn’t hear them, something they had probably never had before.

They continued small talk for a while, about the event and such, until they were far enough away from the general crowds for more intimate conversation.

"How have you been coping, Ma'am, without the Prince? Such an unexpected shame, his untimely demise like that. It was truly a shock to all of us."

Right, 'untimely'. Elizabeth often forgot that Philip's death was supposed to be something entirely unexpected for her, not something she knew would happen down to the exact time and place.

"Missing him, of course, but life has to go on. And it's strange to remember that I am single again, after all these years. That's not been the case since I was 13 and Philip was an adult."

"Yes, it's the same for me, minus the questionable age difference. I’ve been married to Sarah for so long that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to meet other people - and be with other people...” at these words the two made eye contact, neither knowing what to say aloud but having an entire unspoken conversation.

“Mr Gove… Or Michael, may I call you Michael? Would you be interested in visiting the Palace for dinner sometime soon? I could give you a personal tour of the grounds.”

“Yes, Ma’am, of course you can call me Michael,” Almost unthinkingly, the pair faced each other and reached for each other's hands. “And I would be honoured to visit the palace, Ma’am.”

Elizabeth let out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding, “Please, no need to bother with the formalities, at least not whilst nobody else is listening. Call me Elizabeth. Now, we should probably head back inside to the event, we’ve been out here a while, people will be missing me. They basically worship me. But I’ll get someone to contact you about your visit to the palace - I’d do it myself, only that sort of thing is far beneath me.” A smile spread over Michael’s pig-mannequin hybrid face as they made their way back inside.

What they hadn’t realised during their encounter, was that it wasn’t as private as they had thought; in fact another politician had been lurking and watching the entire scene.And he wasn’t happy about what he saw. As soon as Elizabeth and Michael walked off in separate directions, Matt Hancock quickly grabbed Gove by the arm and dragged him into a quiet corridor.

“Hancock.”

“Gove. I saw you outside just now, heard you talking with a certain monarch. The two of you seemed quite friendly.”

“Oh. Right. I hadn’t thought anyone else had been outside. You won’t - you won’t tell anyone what you saw or heard, will you?”

“I won’t. But only because it’s you, if it had been anybody else, I would be telling the sun immediately. The queen’s new love interest, I couldn’t hope for anything better to get the tabloids off my back. But because it’s you - I couldn’t hurt you like that.”

“Matt, what do you mean? Why are you making an exception for me?”

“Govey, as if you don’t know. You must have realised how I feel about you.” Hancock stepped closer to Gove and in his mind’s eye, imagined the Sims social interactions menu, and pictured selecting ‘kiss’. (It was from looking at the characters in the game, after all, that he learnt to kiss in the first place. The mindset and techniques stuck with him.) To his delight, he felt Michael kissing him back. Matt deepened the kiss and their tongues battled for dominance. Suddenly, Michael pulled away and stared, speechless, at Matt.

After about half a minute unable to muster any coherent thoughts (not even coherent by conservative standards) Gove turned away and briskly walked to an empty room, where he could sit alone and process all of what just happened. Not only was he certain now that Elizabeth felt the same spark that he did, but Hancock, whom he had secretly had a low-level affection for for many years, had just snogged him out of jealousy? He didn’t expect to be wrapped up in a love triangle the very day his divorce was announced, and yet it seemed that was what was happening. His years of being an incompetent and sleazy politician had clearly earned him some admirers.

~~

If you made it to the end, I'm only partly sorry for what you just read. I would be willing to write a second chapter if for some godforsaken reason somebody actually would want to read one. This took me far too long to write for something that is honestly not that many words but I feel like it's understandable, given the subject matter. k bye

[siriuslydisturbed]

'Nonsense' - F.W.

summary: Fred Weasley doesn't understand what all the fuss over his older brother Bill's wedding is about...until he sees Y/N L/N

a/n: this is my first ever imagine, so please be kind! that being said, feedback is appreciated! i'm considering making this a series, explaining their backstory and where the night leads...if anyone actually reads this!

The Burrow - 1 August, 1997

Standing outside of the tent that had been set up in the backyard at the burrow, Fred, George, and Bill Weasley were waiting for the wedding festivities to begin. Fred was growing impatient, cursing the collar of his dress robes for causing an apparently unscratchable itch on his neck that he couldn't seem to satiate, no matter how hard he tried.

"When I get married," Fred said while tugging at the collar of his robes, "I won't be bothering with any of this nonsense. You can all wear what you like, and I'll put a full body-bind curse on mum until it's all over."

"That's assuming you could ever find someone who would agree to marry you, Fred Weasley," a familiar, playfully sarcastic voice said from behind him. A voice that caused his heart to drop straight into his stomach and sweat to prickle at the palms of his hands, a voice he could recognize in an instant, despite the amount of time that had passed since he'd heard it last, the voice of Y/N L/N.

He turned around, his jaw falling slack as his eyes met hers, taking in the emerald green velvet slip dress that flowed perfectly off of her curves. In that moment, he began to realize exactly what all this "nonsense" was about. Because in that moment, he knew he would go to the ends of the earth and back again just to be the cause of the smile that was gracing her lips.

"What, do I have something on my face?" she asked while raising a hand to hide behind, snapping Fred out of his daze. A head shake was all he was able to respond with, as he simply couldn't seem find a single word in the english language, let alone multiple words to string together and form any sort of coherent sentence - his mind felt like it had gone to mush, he was completely and utterly awestruck.

"I, uh-" he panicked, feeling his throat go dry. It was not often that Fred Weasley was at a loss for words, but, in his defense, it was certainly even less often that he'd come across someone as beautiful as Y/N L/N. In fact, he was sure he had never come across someone as beautiful as Y/N L/N.

"I think what my brother means to say," George jumped in, unable to bear the secondhand embarrassment he was feeling over how flustered his slightly older brother had become in your presence, "is that you look beautiful tonight, Y/N."

Her cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink at the compliment as her smile shifted to the ground, and Fred mentally kicked himself for not being the one to elicit such an absolutely adorable reaction.

"Oh stop it, you're too sweet, George...or Fred, I suppose, if he's actually speaking on your behalf," Y/N said with a slight giggle - there's that laugh again, Fred thought, feeling butterflies flutter through his stomach as if dancing to the sound.

Once again, all Fred could muster was a head nod, which made Y/N smile, as she was finding his nervousness quite endearing. "Well, I'll see you guys in there," she said with a smile, breaking the silence as she walked past them into the tent. Fred didn’t dare blink and miss a second of her beauty, her dress flowing behind her with each of her movements.

"That has to have been the most painful thing I've ever witnessed," George jested, earning a swift punch to the shoulder from his older twin.

"I think little Freddie might have just realized exactly what makes all of this 'nonsense' worth doing," Bill chimed in with a chuckle.

Fred just rolled his eyes, but he knew Bill was right - he knew, deep down, there wasn’t a thing in the world that would seem nonsensical if he was doing it for Y/N L/N.

[junghelioseok]

apricity.

�� the northern water tribe is offering a massive reward for the safe return of the tribal princess, and yoongi is determined to collect.

◇ yoongi x reader ◇ fluff | adventure | angst | atla!au ◇ 20.1k [1/1]

⇢ apricity (n): the warmth of the sun in winter.

⇢ the avatar: the last airbender meets anastasia fic that no one asked for.

notes: no lie, this fic nearly broke me. it’s twice as long as i thought it would originally be, and i spent at least two hours total scrutinizing a map of the avatar world planning their journey. i really, genuinely don’t know if this is even any good at this point. i feel like i’ve never written a coherent sentence in my life. i’ve read this over four times and words have lost all meaning, so please. let me know if you enjoy it! 🙏💕

warnings: welcome to trope city i’m lia the mayor, sope are con men, yoongi says “fuck” one (1) time, there’s a zhao in this fic and he’s not intended to be admiral zhao but he *is* based off of him because admiral zhao is a big fat turd, on second thought it is entirely possible that yoongi actually says “fuck” twice, liberties were Taken and i have no regrets!!!

When you dream, you dream of fire.

Violent flames paint the horizon, ashy plumes of smoke rising up into the darkened sky. Soot rains down from the heavens, turning the snow black beneath your feet, and every breath you take fills your lungs with burning, putrid air. Everywhere you look, you see smoke. Your hands shake and your eyes sting, unbidden tears spilling forth to wet your cheeks. Off in the distance, you hear people screaming, their voices laced with desperation and anguish.

Vaguely, you think you hear someone shouting your name.

You knew this place, once upon a time. You’ve seen it when the snow was still pristine and white, walked these paths before they were darkened with ash. You’re certain of it. But your mind is hazy and your memories are shrouded, and try as you might, you cannot dispel the fog.

When you wake, you wake in a cold sweat—tangled in your blankets with tears that you can’t explain streaming down your face.

///

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Hoseok asks for the third time. The auburn-haired man is fidgeting with his chopsticks again, and Yoongi sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. The bowl of noodles in front of him is still steaming, the delicious aroma wafting upward, but he can’t focus on eating despite his stomach’s grumbling protests.

No, his focus is on you, and you alone.

“It’ll work,” he mutters, watching as you make your rounds with a fresh pot of tea and a warm smile. “We’ll make it work.”

We can’t afford to fail, he adds silently in his head. The coin purse in his pocket is getting far too light for his liking, and Yoongi knows that they won’t be able to stay in Ba Sing Se for much longer. As far as he can tell, this meal is going to be their last decent one in a while. Pensively, he scoops up some broth and brings it to his mouth, savoring the bits of stewed meat and vegetables that made their way into the bite.

“And how is everything going here? Can I get you gentlemen anything else?”

Yoongi swallows so quickly he nearly chokes. Grabbing his teacup, he downs it in a single swallow, before straightening up and meeting your gaze with the most genuine smile he can muster. “A little more tea wouldn’t hurt,” he says, gesturing at his empty cup. “And, maybe a minute of your time, too, if you’re willing.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion, and Yoongi can’t blame you for that. He’s seen the way some of the men here behave—their eyes and hands wandering too much and too often. The teapot in your hands looks heavy though, and he wonders, vaguely, if you’ve ever been tempted to dump its contents over someone’s head.

He wouldn’t blame you for that either, if you had.

“I’m a little busy at the moment,” you say after a moment’s pause, and Yoongi doesn’t miss the way your grip on the teapot tightens. “What exactly do you need a minute for?”

“A business proposal.” Hoseok speaks for the first time, flashing his brightest, friendliest grin, and Yoongi remembers again why they work best as a team. Your expression changes—shifting from blatant distrust to something akin to curiosity—and Yoongi seizes on the opportunity.

“One minute,” he says. “No more, no less. I can promise you that. What do you say?”

You frown. “I don’t know you. How am I supposed to know if your promises are worth anything?” Nonetheless, you glance around surreptitiously to make sure your boss isn’t watching before taking a cautious seat and setting down the pot of tea. “One minute,” you reiterate.

“One,” Yoongi confirms, exchanging a look with Hoseok, who props his chin atop his folded hands.

“I guess we should start off with introductions, huh?” He flashes you another winning smile, bright as the sun. “My name’s Hoseok. The grumpy fellow over there’s Yoongi. And like we said, we have a proposal for you.”

“{Name},” Yoongi says, double-checking the name tag on your chest. “Did you grow up here in Ba Sing Se?”

You squint suspiciously at him. “I hardly see how that matters,” you begin slowly. “But… yeah. I’ve been here as long as I can remember.”

Hoseok perks up and leans forward. “As long as you can remember?”

You nod, staring down at a damp spot darkening the wood grain of the table. “I don’t remember much of my early life. I was orphaned when I was young.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hoseok says genuinely. His hand twitches forward, as if he wants to lay it atop yours, but he seems to think better of it at the last second and picks at a loose thread on his sleeve instead. “How old were you when—?” He pauses. “Sorry. You probably don’t want to talk about it. I totally understand.“

“No, it’s fine.” You fiddle with the handle of the teapot, your gaze riveted on the drop of tea that has escaped from the spout and is now dribbling down the side. “I must’ve been seven or eight when I arrived at the orphanage. I don’t really remember anything before that.”

Hoseok exhales softly. “It must’ve been hard,” he murmurs.

Listlessly, you shrug. “I suppose so. But I never knew anything else.”

There’s a pause. Hoseok pours himself a fresh cup of tea, and Yoongi chooses that moment to speak up again. “What if you could change things? Would you do it?”

The wary glint returns as you turn to face him, brows furrowed and lips downturned into a frown. “You’re going to have to give me more than that,” you tell him flatly. “What are you saying, exactly? Did my parents suddenly decide they want to be parents again?”

Yoongi shakes his head, sending his ashy silver hair across his forehead in messy waves. “If we’re right about this, then they never had a choice in the matter. You remember the war, right?”

“The war that just ended a couple years ago? I’m not stupid, so yeah. I remember.”

Hoseok hides his laughter in his sleeve. Yoongi glares at him, but continues on nonetheless.

“Then you remember how the Fire Nation raided places all over the world. The smallest villages and the biggest cities—none of them were left untouched. Things were lost, people were displaced… and I think you may have been one of them.” Reaching into his pocket, Yoongi pulls out a scroll, unfurling it so you can look at the contents. He holds his breath while you read the lines of text, and sees the way your eyes widen when you spot the hefty prize being offered. Your gaze flits over the text again, then drops down to the picture at the bottom.

And then you snort—so loudly that the neighboring table shoots you a dirty look.

“You think I’m the tribal princess?” you ask, disbelief and amusement etching across your face in equal parts. “From the Northern Water Tribe? Are you kidding?”

“You could be,” Yoongi replies softly. “You saw the picture. And you share the same name, do you not?”

Your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth as you glance down at the scroll again, taking in the painted face of the child that stares back at you. Despite the age difference, you can see parts of yourself in the picture—the angle of the nose, the color of the hair, the shape of the eyes. But at the same time…

“That could be anyone,” you say dismissively, tearing your gaze away from the picture. “My name’s not that uncommon. Lots of people have that hair color, too. And besides—I’m not a waterbender.”

Hoseok pushes his teacup toward you and raises an expectant brow. “Are you sure?”

You push it back toward him, the ceramic scraping against the wood. Some of the liquid within sloshes over the rim, leaving another damp streak across the table, and you grimace inwardly at the thought of cleaning it up later. “Don’t you think I’d know if I were?”

Yoongi rolls up the scroll and replaces it in his pocket. “Okay, fine. Maybe you aren’t the tribal princess. But what if you pretended to be?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Is that a joke? It’s not funny, if it is.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “It’s not a joke.” Leaning in, he lowers his voice to a whisper, and your breath hitches when you realize you can feel his body heat radiating off of him. “We could pull it off. You could pull it off. With some proper instruction and the right direction, we could—”

You cut him off by rising to your feet, your chair scraping across the floor with a screech. “Look,” you huff, annoyed. “This has been fun and all, but I have work to do. I don’t know what kind of scam you’re trying to pull here, but you can count me out.”

Yoongi grabs the handle of your teapot before you can snatch it up and stomp away. “You’d never have to serve anyone again,” he murmurs, in a voice so soft that only you can hear him. “We’ll split the money three ways. You saw how much it was, didn’t you? Enough to change your life. Enough to change all of our lives. And once we have it, you can go on your merry little way. You can see the world. It’s a big place out there, and you’ve seen very little of it—isn’t that right?” Slowly, he lowers the pot into your waiting hands, noting the way they tremble. “Just think about it,” he says gently. “We’re staying at the Lotus Inn tonight, but we’re heading out first thing tomorrow morning. It’s up to you now, whether or not you want to come with us.”

You frown. “Do you expect me to trust anything you’ve said? Seriously?”

“No, I don’t. But I’m telling the truth, and I know you want something more out of life than this. You’re in control, you know. You make your own destiny.”

Your frown deepens. Closing your fingers around the handle of the pot, you narrow your eyes at him before whirling on your heel and walking off. “Well,” Hoseok sighs, watching you depart. “You had to know that was a long shot.”

Yoongi shrugs and picks up his chopsticks, digging into his noodles at last. “She’ll come around. Wait and see.”

///

Surely, you’ve gone mad.

There’s no other reason you would do this—no other reason you would leave behind the only life you’ve ever known to travel across the world with two strangers. You’re barely even aware of what you’re doing as you pack up your modest belongings, scanning the room you rent above the noodle shop one last time for anything you may have missed.

“This is crazy,” you mutter, reaching up to rub the little silver key that dangles from a chain around your neck. The metal is smooth beneath your fingertips, warmed by your skin and the orange glow of the setting sun. Quietly, you approach the open window, watching as the sun dips lower and lower on the horizon, the painted sky fading into dusky blue twilight.

You don’t sleep well that night. No matter how much you toss and turn, you can’t seem to escape the lumps in your mattress or the brewing anxiety in your belly. You’re wide awake by the time the sun begins to rise again, watching as it brings in a fresh, new day.

It’s almost too easy—picking up your bags and heading out the door. It’s almost surreal, how your entire life in Ba Sing Se can be packed up into one rucksack and a small coin purse. You’ve already told your boss about your intent to depart, and left a note thanking her for her hospitality over the years. The streets are deserted this early in the morning, and the short walk to the Lotus Inn takes almost no time at all.

You’re in the midst of debating whether or not to knock when the front door swings open, revealing Yoongi and a drowsy looking Hoseok, both dressed in the signature greens and browns of the Earth Kingdom. The latter’s eyes go wide when he catches sight of you, freezing mid-yawn, but Yoongi doesn’t seem surprised and simply offers you a crooked smile. “Welcome aboard,” he says as he brushes past you with his own bag in tow.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” Hoseok falls into step beside you, beaming, and together, the two of you follow after Yoongi. “What changed your mind?”

You bite your lip, thinking back to Yoongi’s words the day before. “I’m ready to leave Ba Sing Se behind,” you finally reply. “I’m ready for something new.”

Hoseok hefts his bag over his shoulder and flashes you a grin. “Well, you’ll certainly find something new with us! But really—this is going to be great, {Name}. I’m glad you’re here.”

Tentatively, you smile back. “Me too.”

Up above, the sky lightens into a clear, crystalline blue, streaked through with wispy white clouds. Yoongi leads you to the closest monorail station and ushers you aboard a train, and you watch as the landscape rushes by, illuminated by the golden morning sun.

“It’s weird, seeing the whole city laid out like this,” you mumble to Hoseok, who’s sitting on your right. Yoongi sits on your other side, immersed in a book that he’s pulled from one of his numerous pockets, but your sole focus is on the view outside. Stone houses with green roofs flash by, the golden trim shining bright. Blue canals weave among the buildings, dotted with boats and occasional smaller specks that you can only assume are turtle ducks. “It feels like I’ve only seen a little part of it all.”

“Ba Sing Se’s a big place,” Hoseok agrees. “I think it’d be impossible to see it all in a lifetime.”

You turn to face him. “You’ve traveled a lot, haven’t you, Hoseok?”

“I have,” he confirms, letting his head fall back against the wall. “Yoongi and I—we’ve been all over the place. Feels like we’ve been to every corner of the Earth Kingdom by this point. We’ve been to both Water Tribes, and seen a couple of the Air Temples, too.”

You finger the silver key at your throat. “So you’ve never been to the Fire Nation?”

Hoseok’s answering smile is distant, and doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “No, I have. Once. Many years ago.” He doesn’t say anything further, and when you spot the sudden tension in his jaw, you decide not to press the issue.

The train arrives at the next station, and you watch as more passengers get on board. A visibly pregnant woman enters your car with a hand on her belly, and you’re just about to offer her your seat when Yoongi stands without looking up from his book and gestures for her to take his spot, waving off her gratitude with a small smile and a quiet reassurance.

Outside the window, the low, stocky buildings of the Lower Ring come into view. Most of your adult life was spent in the Middle Ring, making your way from restaurant to restaurant to find the best-paying jobs and cheapest housing, but you still vividly remember your childhood in the Lower Ring, contained in the walled-off district of the city that houses refugees and the poor. The orphanage that had been kind enough to take you in is near the Inner Wall, and you distinctly remember how large and threatening the wall had seemed as a child. Even now, it’s no less daunting. The towering structure stretches for miles in either direction, a looming stone behemoth, and your breath hitches a little at the sight.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Hoseok is staring at the wall in awe, his jaw slack. “No matter how many times I see it, I still can’t help but think about how long it must have taken to build.”

“Ba Sing Se has a long history,” you murmur. “And not all of it good.”

Hoseok hums in agreement. “I think most things in life are like that, though. Nothing’s really just black or just white, you know?”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye before your gaze flits over to Yoongi, who has migrated over to the door of the train car and is gripping one of the many handrails while he continues to read with his free hand. “Yeah. I know.”

The train stops yet again at the station on the Inner Wall, and you watch as passengers shuffle on and off. From your vantage point high above the ground, you can see the stark difference between the low, stocky buildings of the Lower Ring and the lush green fields and farmland just outside the wall. With a groan, the train begins to move once more, powered by the earthbenders you know are stationed at the rearmost car. Up ahead, you can see the Outer Wall rising up—a thin white line in the distance—and your heart does a funny little backflip in your chest when you turn and see the city retreating farther and farther away.

“Don’t think of it as goodbye.” Yoongi’s voice comes from behind you suddenly, and you whirl, coming face-to-face with his stoic expression. “Think of it as see you later, or until next time. It makes leaving easier.”

You can only nod, taken aback by his astuteness. Then you turn back toward the city you once called home, pressing a hand against the windowpane. “See you later,” you whisper.

Until next time.

///

“First things first,” Yoongi says, raising his hand and ticking off on his fingers one by one. “We have to get across Full Moon Bay. Hoseok is already over there checking the ferry times, so we’re off to a good start. Next, we’re going to have to hike north through the forest. It’ll probably take us a couple days to make it all the way through.”

“I’m on my feet all day at work,” you say with a shrug. “Hiking won’t be a problem.”

Yoongi nods in approval. “The next part’s going to be a bit tricky. We’ll have to cross the Great Divide, which is near impossible without an earthbender who knows the way. I’m hoping that we can convince an old friend to help us, but he can be hard to find sometimes.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t like you very much. Honestly, I can’t blame him,” you reply, earning yourself a snort from your companion.

“You still haven’t gotten all that sarcasm out of your system yet?”

It’s hard to resist the urge to stick your tongue out at him. “Not a chance. I think you’ll find that all this sarcasm is what keeps me going.”

Yoongi opens his mouth—no doubt to quip back—when Hoseok shouts your names and bounces back over to where the two of you are seated on a bench. “Ferry should be here in five minutes!” he says, slightly out of breath. “Trust the Earth Kingdom to never stray off schedule. Good timing, Yoongi.”

The other man merely raises a brow. “Why are you breathing so hard?”

Hoseok scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “I may have nicked some buns from the cart over there. No one’s noticed yet, but I wanted to get out of there as fast as I could.” Opening up his bag, he shows you the pile of jam-filled buns inside.

“You stole them?” you ask, gaping at the auburn-haired man. “Don’t you have money to, oh, I don’t know, pay for them?”

Yoongi, despite his lethargic appearance, moves quickly. He clamps a hand over your mouth and hisses for you to lower your voice, urgently gesturing for Hoseok to close up his bag again. “We’re a bit strapped for cash, in case you haven’t figured that out already,” he whispers. “The last of it went toward supplies and the ferry fare. Why else do you think we want the prize money from the Water Tribe so badly?”

“I... I don’t know,” you admit. “I guess I thought you were looking for the tribal princess out of the goodness of your hearts or something. Excuse me for thinking kindly of you.”

Yoongi sighs and releases his grip. “Fine,” he says. “We con people and steal for a living. Is that what you want to hear?”

To your left, Hoseok mutters something that sounds like, borrow, but it goes unheard.

“I don’t think that’s what anyone ever wants to hear,” you say dryly. “But I guess I can respect your honesty. It’s… it’s hard to survive in this world sometimes. But even so—” You reach into your coin purse and pull out a few copper pieces. “Will this cover the buns?”

Hoseok counts the coins silently before nodding, and you close your palm over them with a satisfied grin. “Looks like the ferry’s boarding,” you say, standing up and hefting your bags. “Let’s go.” And as you pass by the vendor’s cart, you drop the coins surreptitiously on the edge of the counter, waiting until his back is turned.

Yoongi and Hoseok board the ferry first, and you quietly slip into the seat they’ve saved for you next to the railing. With a blare of the horn, the ferry pulls away from the dock. A cool breeze fans your cheeks as the boat begins to glide across the lake, the water a clear aquamarine that glitters like diamonds in the morning sun. Peering over the edge, you watch as ripples fan out from the ferry’s path, smiling when you spot a school of silvery fish darting about below the surface. Curiously, you reach over the edge and dip your fingers in, relishing the coolness.

It doesn’t take long to reach the other side of Full Moon Bay. Hoseok disembarks first, and Yoongi ushers for you to go ahead of him as he hefts his pack over his shoulders. “We’ll follow the river for now,” he decides. “We need to get farther south anyway.”

“You said you had a friend who may be able to help us, right?” you ask. “Is that where we’re heading?”

Yoongi nods. “He lives on the other side of the forest. It’ll probably take the better part of two days to cross at the narrowest point, so that’s where we’re headed.”

On your left, the river burbles merrily, tumbling over gray rocks worn smooth by the passage of time. To your right is the treeline, warm golden sunlight piercing through the green canopy. You think back to the maps you’ve seen of the Earth Kingdom, and try to visualize exactly where you’re standing. “Omashu,” you begin slowly. “Home of Avatar Jungkook. That’s farther south, isn’t it?”

Hoseok hums in acknowledgment, his arms crossed behind his head. “Sure is.”

“Have you been?”

“A couple times, yeah. We’ve got some friends there, so we always have a place to stay. It’s a nice city.”

You smile. “That’s what I’ve heard too. I’d love to visit someday.”

“Soon, you’ll be able to.” Hoseok flashes you a grin and a mischievous wink. “A third of that Water Tribe prize money will go a long way. You’ll be able to go anywhere you want.”

Hours pass. The sun crawls past its highest point in the sky, and Hoseok distributes his jam-filled buns between the three of you as a quick lunch. You eat as you walk, with your cheeks full and your heart light as air, and despite the fact that you’re traveling with virtual strangers, the feeling in your chest feels dangerously akin to happiness.

At nightfall, Yoongi finally calls for you to come to a stop. The first stars are just beginning to peek out—silver and diamond pinpricks scattered across the velvet tapestry of sky. A bend in the river has created the perfect campsite, and Hoseok sighs deeply as he lets his pack fall off his shoulders and onto the rocky ground.

It’s clear that Yoongi and Hoseok have set up camp together many times before. Hoseok is quick to unpack the cooking utensils in his bag, grabbing a pot and heading to the river as Yoongi gathers some brush and pulls out a set of spark rocks to start a fire. Quietly, you collect a few large tree branches and bring them over, setting them down when he clears out a spot.

“How’s your cooking?” he asks without even glancing up.

You consider the question. “Passable, I think.”

“Passable is better than inedible,” Yoongi says, casting a pointed look at Hoseok, who’s just now returning with a pot full of water and pulls a face at the jab. “Care to cut up the cabbage over there?”

You oblige, accepting the knife he hands over. Hoseok, despite his alleged lack of culinary talent, is an adept fisherman, and catches several fish that he gives to Yoongi to debone. Before long, there’s a pot of stew simmering merrily over the fire, and Hoseok is passing around bowls and spoons.

“This is a Water Tribe classic,” he says as he ladles some stew into your bowl. “It’s a little too fishy for me, personally, but maybe you’ll like it.”

Curiously, you bring a spoonful to your lips, inhaling deeply before taking a bite. “It’s good,” you say after a few seconds of chewing. “I don’t think it’s too fishy at all.”

Hoseok chuckles. “You have the tastebuds of someone from the Water Tribe, at least. That’s a plus.”

“For your scheme, you mean,” you remark, taking another bite of stew. “I still think you’re crazy, just for the record.”

He raises his brows playfully and tosses you a jam-filled bun. “Hey, now. You’re here, aren’t you?”

Dinner draws to a close with a promise from Yoongi that your lessons will begin tomorrow. “We’ll teach you everything a tribal princess needs to know about the Northern Water Tribe,” he says as he hammers down the last pin on his tent . “But for now, we all need a good night’s rest.”

You glance over at Hoseok, who’s struggling to drape a tarp on his own tent. “I… I don’t have a tent. I didn’t think to buy one back in Ba Sing Se, so I guess I can just—”

“This one’s yours,” Yoongi says shortly, standing up and dusting off his palms. “We have two, anyway. And Hoseok’s is bigger, so the two of us can share.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly. “Thank you. That’s—that’s really kind.”

“It’s no big deal,” Yoongi says, waving off your gratitude. “Get some rest.”

He walks away without another word. Hoseok waves from across the campground, calling out a goodnight, and you wave back before crouching down and entering the tent. The flaps fall shut behind you, and you gingerly lay down your blanket and unroll your sleeping mat. Exhaustion seeps into your bones as soon as your head hits the pillow—all the whirlwind events of the past twenty-four hours striking you at once.

And for the first time in a long time, you drift off into a rare, dreamless slumber.

///

Morning dawns cool and bright, with a breeze that rustles through the treetops and whips through your hair. After a quick breakfast, you find yourself on the road again, walking beside a whistling Hoseok and staring at the back of Yoongi’s ashy hair as he leads the way. Warm sunlight filters through the green canopy, casting your surroundings in a soft golden haze. Distantly, you can hear birdsong and chirring crickets. The peaceful forest is a stark contrast to the clamorous squalor of Ba Sing Se, and you’re more than content to bask in the quiet, letting the warmth of the day sink into your skin and lull your senses.

Beside you, Hoseok suddenly perks up, sniffing the air curiously. “It smells like rain,” he remarks, holding out a hand as if to catch any stray raindrops that may fall.

You blink. “Really? The sun’s shining.”

Hoseok shrugs. Up ahead, Yoongi slows down, peering up at the forest canopy with pursed lips. “Hoseok’s usually right about these kinds of things,” he says. “Let’s keep going for now. If I’m remembering right, there should be a hill up ahead. We can shelter there if we need to.”

Hoseok’s prediction, as it turns out, is spot on. The first few drops of rain begin to fall as you continue down the path, dripping off the leaves and onto your exposed heads. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and you glance around nervously as it grows progressively darker.

“Let’s start looking for higher ground,” Yoongi says, as if reading your thoughts.

Luck seems to be with you, for the hill Yoongi mentioned is just a short distance away. It’s a gentle slope, littered with rocks and covered in brush, but Yoongi clears out a sizable space and gestures for Hoseok to help him set up one of the tents just as the rain starts coming down in earnest. “Let’s stay here for now,” Yoongi says. “There’s no point in pressing on and putting anyone at risk of catching a cold. I’m going to try and find some dry wood to start a fire. You two get in the tent.”

The rain worsens as you take shelter, transforming quickly into a full-fledged thunderstorm. You watch it come down in torrential sheets around Yoongi’s retreating figure, quickly saturating the ground and turning it into black mud. “Is he going to be okay out there?” you ask.

“He’ll be fine. Yoongi’s tougher than he looks.” Hoseok leans back on his hands, chuckling. “Although there’s really nothing quite like a storm in the Earth Kingdom. The thunder almost sounds like the ground is being split apart. It’s incredible.”

“Like two earthbenders having a rumble,” you muse. “That’s what we would say in Ba Sing Se whenever a storm hit. The earthbenders are having a spat again.”

Hoseok grins. “That’s funny—the Water Tribes have a saying like that too. It’s raining so hard, even the waterbenders are wet. That’s what they say.”

You laugh. “Tell me more about where we’re going. The Northern Water Tribe—I’ve heard that it’s all made of ice. The buildings, the walls—everything. Is that true?”

“Ice and snow, yeah” Hoseok confirms. “When the sky’s blue and the sun’s shining, it’s easily the most beautiful city I’ve ever seen.”

“It sounds wonderful,” you murmur. “I wonder what it would’ve been like to grow up there.”

“Probably the same as it would’ve been anywhere else.” Yoongi’s voice comes from behind you, and you belatedly realize he’s returned to the tent. He shuffles inside, pulling off his damp hood and shaking out his hair, and you watch as he tosses a pile of wet branches into the corner. “Some good, some bad. You would have had a hard time there, though.”

You frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yoongi doesn’t look up from where he’s carefully begun stacking stones to create a makeshift firepit, filling it with some of the wood he’s gathered. “Traditionally, the Northern Water Tribe has always been on the conservative side,” he explains. “Women weren’t allowed to fight, and could only use their bending for healing. That’s been changing in recent years, especially with the war and all, but men are still the ones who are expected to fight most of the time.” Then he chuckles. “And good thing, too. Means you probably won’t be asked to bend when we get there.”

“Well, isn’t that convenient. You must be so relieved.” Your voice comes out harsher than intended, but Yoongi doesn’t react. Instead, he hums lowly and rights a piece of fallen wood, rearranging the twigs and dead leaves on top as kindling.

“It is convenient,” he replies after a few long seconds. His gaze drags up to meet yours, his dark eyes unreadable in the dim light. “We have to consider this from all angles, and we especially have to consider what we have to do in order to make sure we get that prize money. It’s what we’re all here for. And that means there’s no room for hurt feelings.”

As much as you hate to admit it, his rationalization does make sense. The portion of the prize that Yoongi and Hoseok have promised to you is more than enough to change your life. And despite your lingering reluctance to lie to the people of the Northern Water Tribe, you’d be a fool to turn down that kind of money. Yoongi may be hard to get along with, but your partnership is only temporary. To him, you are a means to an end.

He’s a means to an end for you, as well.

“Hurt my feelings? Please. It was my choice to come with you, and I’ll see it through to the end.” You level a cool glance at him. “Even if that means I have to put up with you and whatever nonsense you throw my way.”

Yoongi pulls his spark rocks from his pocket, a sardonic smile creasing his face. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

The tent descends into silence, and for a few minutes, all is quiet aside from the occasional muttered curse from Yoongi as he tries and fails to light the fire. “I think the wood is too wet,” you call, watching with perverse satisfaction as he scowls and furiously scrapes the spark rocks together in a final, desperate attempt.

“Oh, really? You think?”

Giggling, you return to where Hoseok is sitting. He’s stayed silent this whole time, opting to stare out into the torrential downpour, but smiles wanly as you sit down beside him. The cold is beginning to settle in—a damp chill that pierces through your clothes and sinks deep into your skin—and you shiver. Behind you, the scraping of the spark rocks has stopped.

“It’s really coming down out there,” you remark, drawing your knees to your chest. “Kind of relaxing, isn’t it?”

“Hmm. I always preferred snow, myself. If it’s going to be cold, it may as well snow.” Hoseok lets his head fall back, staring up at the sloped ceiling of the tent. “Plus, then you get to have snow forts and snowball fights. And plenty of hot cocoa afterward. That’s the life.”

You hum in agreement. “I’m guessing you played in the snow a lot as a kid.”

“Not really.” He shrugs. “It never snowed much where I grew up.”

“Really? Where did you grow up?”

The faraway look returns to his eyes, and you wonder for a moment if you’ve struck a nerve. It almost seems like Hoseok isn’t going to answer your question—but then he speaks, his voice soft and sad. “Far away from here,” he mutters. “A little south, a little west. But I haven’t been back there in a long time.”

“I’m sorry.” You scoot a little closer to him, laying a hand on his shoulder in quiet solidarity. “I know what it’s like not having a place to call home.”

He smiles, this one is a little brighter and more genuine than the last. “Here’s to hoping that changes soon, huh?”

Thunder rumbles overhead, followed closely by a flash of lightning that pierces through the treetops in a brilliant burst of white. You shiver at the sight of the forest illuminated so starkly, and start when you realize that you’re no longer cold. Whirling around, you see Yoongi nursing the fire, adding a handful of twigs that spark and snap in the blaze.

Hoseok inches closer to the flames, leveling Yoongi with a look that you can’t decipher. “You got this started pretty quickly,” he remarks, an edge of reprimand in his voice.

Yoongi fixes Hoseok with a cool stare. “Would you rather we all freeze?”

You get the feeling that you’re missing something—and something important, nonetheless. But neither man seems particularly keen on filling you in, so you decide to dismiss it for the time being. Reaching for your bag, you’re about to open it when a sudden movement catches your eye. Cautiously, you push your bag aside, your eyes widening when a small reddish brown creature pokes its head out, its black nose twitching and its mouth full of one of Hoseok’s jam-filled buns.

“Why hello there,” you greet, extending a hand for the critter to sniff. “You’re a fire ferret, aren’t you? Have you found your way into our food, little guy?”

“Who are you talking to?” Yoongi grumbles, leaning over to get a better look. His brows shoot up when he sees the little fire ferret, his mouth curling into a displeased frown, and you cry out in protest when he stands and raises a hand to shoo it away.

The fire ferret doesn’t even flinch. Instead, it jumps onto Yoongi’s outstretched arm, drawing a surprised yelp from the man, and scurries up onto his shoulder before finding its way to the top of his head. Proudly, it perches atop his tousled hair, still chewing on the pilfered bun.

You coo at the sight. “Oh, cute! Hoseok, look!”

“This is not cute,” Yoongi grouses, reaching up to try and grab the evasive critter. “Get it off of me.”

“Leave him alone,” you chide. “He likes you, for whatever reason.”

“Well, I don’t like him! He’s a rodent, and he’s eating our food. I want him gone.”

Hoseok bursts into laughter as the fire ferret settles more comfortably onto Yoongi’s head, nestling into his ashy gray hair. The sound of his mirth drowns out even the torrential rain outside, and you start giggling right alongside him. “I don’t think he’s going anywhere,” Hoseok says, trying and failing to hide his grin behind his hand.

“I think we should name him,” you add. “Any ideas?”

“Don’t you dare,” Yoongi says, but his protest goes unheard.

“Lee?” Hoseok suggests. “Or maybe we can work Yoongi’s name in there somehow. He can’t toss him out if he’s named after him. Yoon-lee?”

Yoongi scowls and crosses his arms. “If that’s the case, why don’t we use your name instead? Ho-lee sounds just as stupid as Yoon-lee.”

You hum thoughtfully. “Ho-lee… Hollee… Holly. I kind of like that.”

Hoseok beams. “Holly it is, then! Welcome to the team, Holly!”

Yoongi’s frown deepens. “Don’t I get any say in this?”

“Nope,” you and Hoseok say at the same time, earning yourselves an even deeper scowl from your companion. Atop his head, Holly lets out a little yawn. His striped tail swings back and forth beside Yoongi’s left ear, and you burst into a fresh round of giggles when Yoongi nearly rolls his eyes into the back of his head trying to look up at the obstinate critter on his head.

“All right,” you say when Yoongi’s glare enters murderous territory. “Come here, Holly.” Gently, you lift the fire ferret off of Yoongi’s head, plopping down by the fire and settling him comfortably in your lap. Holly immediately curls up, relishing in your body heat and the added warmth of the flames. You stroke his silky fur as his eyes fall shut, and smile as Hoseok sits down beside you and picks some dried mud from his tail. “Poor thing. It looks like he just wanted somewhere warm to shelter from the storm.”

“I doubt my head was the best place to do that,” Yoongi says, rejoining you at the makeshift firepit with a frown still etched across his face. He’s brought his pack with him, a loaf of bread in his free hand, and you gratefully accept the third of the loaf that he hands over. “Now eat, before the rodent gets into anything else.”

///

Night has well and truly fallen by the time the worst of the storm passes. The rain has settled into a mere drizzle, pattering gently against the roof as the fire burns lower and the ashes at the bottom of the firepit turn white and begin to curl and disintegrate.

Holly has found his way back into Yoongi’s lap. He’s fast asleep with his tail curled around his body, and Yoongi has seemingly accepted his fate as he sighs and tosses another log onto the dying flames. Beside you, Hoseok stirs awake at the sound, bleary eyes blinking open for a few seconds before he realizes you’re not under attack and drifts off once more.

“Sorry,” Yoongi says suddenly. “I think I was harsh earlier, about the Northern Water Tribe’s waterbending traditions. They were shut off from the rest of the world for decades, and sexism and misogyny were essentially normalized during that time. It’s unfortunate, but it’s the truth.”

You hum, dragging a finger through the dirt at your feet. “Sounds like it isn’t so different from the rest of the world,” you murmur. “I worked in a noodle shop, remember? I’ve encountered all sorts.” Then you pause. “And I forgive you, by the way. I think I owe you an apology too, for being so snippy. All of this is a lot to take in at once.”

“No kidding.”

For a few moments, a comfortable silence falls between you. Yoongi picks up the blackened stick he’s been using as a makeshift poker, prodding at the fire and watching orange sparks fly.

“How do you know so much about the Northern Water Tribe?” you ask after a few long seconds. “It seems like you know more than the average person.”

Yoongi nods. “A friend of ours—Jimin—used to live in Agna Qel’a. The capital city.”

“Used to?”

“Used to. Jimin was always more of a healer than a fighter.” A dry chuckle escapes him. “Don’t get me wrong; he could throw down if he needed to. But he always preferred to avoid conflict if he could help it, and that’s why he left. Right after the war ended, he started traveling around the world, doing what he could to help people with his healing abilities.”

“Wow. That’s amazing.”

Your companion hums. “He’s a good man.”

Quiet settles over you once more, broken only by the crackling flames. You reach over to give Holly’s head a gentle pat, smiling when the little fire ferret stretches in his sleep.

“So,” you begin slowly, once Holly has settled back into Yoongi’s lap. “What else does a tribal princess need to know about her tribe?” You pick up his charred stick and wave it around. “Should I take notes?”

That earns you a grin. “You might want to. Now let’s start from the beginning…”

///

The next day brings with it cooler temperatures and a brisk breeze. Despite Yoongi’s persistent protests, Holly has found his way onto his shoulders, draped around his nape like a striped scarf. Every now and then, he flicks his tail and hits Yoongi’s cheek, and you giggle when he wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“He’s comfortable with you,” you tell him.

“Too comfortable,” is the grumbled response.

Gradually, the forest begins to thin out. The sun is bright overhead, filtering through the leaves, and you tilt your face back to enjoy the warmth. Nearby, you can hear the babble of a brook, and it comes into view a moment later when the path curves, spanned by a wooden footbridge that arches gracefully over the flowing water.

“This is beautiful,” you remark, laying a hand on the bridge’s intricately carved railing. The posts are etched with vines and flowers, and you run a fingertip across a blooming water lily.

“This is nothing compared to the bridges in the Northern Water Tribe,” Yoongi says, dunking his water bottle into the brook. “There are three hundred and ninety bridges in Agna Qel’a alone.”

“Three hundred and ninety-one,” you correct without thinking. It’s only when your companions turn to stare at you, jaws hanging open in identical expressions of shock, that you realize what you’ve said.

Yoongi recovers first. “How do you know that?”

“I… I don’t know,” you admit. “I guess I must’ve read it somewhere.”

Hoseok frowns, but Yoongi hums and hefts his pack back onto his shoulders. “Let’s keep going,” he says. “We’re almost there.”

“And where exactly is there?” you query, following after him as he begins to walk again.

A new voice answers you. “There is here, and here is there,” it says, and you jump when a young man lands on the path in front of you, sending up a flurry of dust. He’s wearing a deep red tunic, the material billowing out around him in the wind, and he grins as he straightens to his full height and rakes a hand through his wavy black hair. “Long time no see, Yoongi. Hey, Hoseok.” Then he steps closer, his grin widening. “And you—you, I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting just yet. What’s your name?”

“I-I’m {Name},” you stammer, having not quite recovered from the shock of a person falling out of the sky. “And you are…?”

“Taehyung,” the young man replies, stretching out a hand for you to shake. “But cute girls like you can call me Tae.”

Years of working in customer service puts an automatic, stilted smile on your face, but before you can respond, Yoongi is stepping in and swatting Taehyung in the shoulder. “I see you haven’t changed one bit,” he sighs. “Save it, Tae. Leave her alone.”

“Testy,” Taehyung says, clicking his tongue and fixing you with a curious look. “What, is she your girlfriend?”

Your jaw drops, and Yoongi seems to be equally at a loss, stunned into silence. Eventually, he manages to sputter out a denial, and Taehyung relents with a deep chuckle. Turning, the two turn and begin heading down the path again. You vaguely hear Taehyung introducing himself to Holly, giving the fire ferret a welcoming scratch behind the ears. On your left, Hoseok falls into step beside you with a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry about Tae,” he says. “He’s a little peculiar, but he means well.”

“He fell out of the sky,” you say, glancing up at the wide blue expanse overhead, as if that will lend some clarity to the situation. “I don’t understand how—unless he—”

Hoseok’s smile widens, waiting for you to put the pieces together.

“—he’s an airbender?”

“Bingo!” Hoseok gestures at Taehyung’s back. “I bet you anything he was gliding around. It’s hard to see right now, but he actually has wings built into most of his clothes. Kind of like a sugar glider—that’s how he came up with the idea!”

“That’s brilliant,” you admit, taking a closer look at the way Taehyung’s tunic drapes across his shoulders and arms. There’s some stiffness and structure to the sleeves that you hadn’t noticed before, and you assume that those details must make up the wings of his glider. “I’ve never met an airbender before.”

“No surprises there,” Hoseok remarks. “They tend to stay around the Air Temples, and those are pretty hard to get to if you aren’t one of them.”

Up ahead, a small village comes into view, just beyond the crest of a gently sloping hill. The white stone buildings remind you of Ba Sing Se with their green roofs and gold trim, but there’s something noticeably different in the air—something lighter. You see it in the smiles of the passersby and hear it in the laughter of the children playing in the street. Taehyung waves and greets everyone by name, and they do the same. The only time you see him frown is when he crouches down to tell a disappointed group of young boys and girls that he won’t be able to join their game of foot volleyball today.

Taehyung’s house is at the very edge of the village, bordering the forest on one side and a wide grassy field on the other. A low, rumbling growl fills the air as you approach, and you tentatively glance at your companions to see if any of them are going to comment on the sound.

“Um,” you begin. “What exactly is—?”

“Yeontan!” Taehyung exclaims, taking off into a sprint. “You better not be eating Mr. Zhang’s hay again!”

Brows furrowing, you lean toward Hoseok. “Who’s Yeontan?”

Hoseok chuckles and points up at the sky, where the sun has suddenly been blocked out by a massive, shadowy shape. “That’s Yeontan.”

You’re fairly certain that your jaw is going to end up dislocated by the end of your journey. The flying shape lands, shaking out its shaggy white fur, and your eyes trace the arrow on its head before dropping down to its six legs and wide, flat tail. “But that’s…” You struggle to find the words. “...that’s an air bison.”

“Sure is!” Taehyung pats Yeontan’s furry side, chuckling when the air bison lets out a rumble of contentment. “This fellow was the runt of his litter when we first met. He’s almost as old as I am!”

You gape at him. “The runt of his litter?”

Holly, now wide awake, unfurls from Yoongi’s neck and scampers over to Yeontan, who lowers his head to sniff at the little fire ferret. Holly sniffs right back, before standing up on his hind legs and giving Yeontan’s nose a lick of approval.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Taehyung gestures at the front door of his house, painted a pale lavender shade and adorned with trailing green ivy on either side. “Let’s go inside. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving.”

Yeontan and Holly dart off, and you follow Yoongi and Hoseok into the house. Taehyung shuts the door and gestures for you to make yourself at home, and when he disappears into the kitchen, you take the opportunity to glance around your surroundings. The front door opens into a wide room, decorated in warm browns and cheery yellows. A dining table sits at one end, near the kitchen entrance, while the other end is occupied by piles of soft cushions and a lounging sofa. A small hallway branches off the main room, presumably leading to the bedroom and washroom. Gingerly, you take a seat at the dining table as Taehyung returns with a platter piled high with food and a steaming pot of tea.

“So, Yoongi tells me you’re the long lost tribal princess,” he says, picking up your cup so that he can pour you some tea. “I hope my humble home is to your liking, Your Majesty.”

You blink, glancing between him and an unamused looking Yoongi on the other side of the table. There’s a beat of silence, before Taehyung bursts into hysterical laughter.

“I’m kidding! Although you may want to get used to people calling you ‘Your Majesty” if you’re going to pull this princess thing off. And you’re not even a waterbender?” Thoughtfully, he gazes down at the cup of hot tea in his hands. Time stands still for a brief moment—even the breeze blowing through the open window seems to settle—and then he lets the cup fall. It shatters upon impact, splashing hot liquid against the aging wooden floorboards and sending shards of ceramic every which way. Everyone flinches—Hoseok lets out a startled little squeak—and you nearly upend your chair in surprise.

“Tae,” Yoongi says, and his voice is laced with warning.

The younger man ignores him. “Just try,” he implores, gesturing down at the liquid pooling near your toes. “You can feel it, can’t you? A connection to the water?”

Dubiously, you glance down at the tea that’s now beginning to seep through the cracks in the floor. The wood is darker where the liquid has stained it, and you will your mind to focus only on those spots. Vaguely, you’re aware of the others staring, and the hush that’s fallen over the room is palpable. Thinking back to the earthbenders you’ve seen in Ba Sing Se, you narrow your eyes and wave your hand, willing the tea to rise up out of the floorboards. On your right, Hoseok tenses. Yoongi leans closer, and—

—nothing.

“Damn,” Taehyung sighs, deflating. “I really thought that would work for a second.”

You don’t dare say it aloud, but the thought still floats through your mind.

So did I.

///

Taehyung, as it turns out, has a guest bedroom that he kindly offers to you for the night. Hoseok and Yoongi set up camp in the main room, making themselves comfortable in the plethora of cushions, and you retire to your room early, the promise of an actual mattress an irresistible siren song for your tired limbs.

You’re just about to crawl beneath the covers when a voice catches your attention. The speaker is clearly trying to maintain a hushed tone, and that alone is enough to pique your interest. Quietly, you make your way to the bedroom door, wincing when you step on a creaky floorboard. Pressing your ear to the wood, you listen as the voice you now recognize as Yoongi’s, curses and urges another to hush.

“Will you keep it down? It’s like you’re trying to let the whole damn village what we’re up to.”

“Sorry.” Taehyung sounds abashed. “To be completely honest, though, I still can’t believe you convinced her to do this. It’s all a little far fetched, isn’t it? Especially since she can’t even waterbend.”

Hoseok chooses that moment to speak up. “I can’t really believe it either,” he says. “But we’ve already come this far.”

“And what happens when you get caught?”

Even without seeing him, you know that Yoongi is frowning. “If we get caught. And it won’t be an issue, because we won’t. {Name} looks like the princess. And even if they do find out that she’s a fraud, we’ll be long gone with the money.”

Taehyung hums. “Sounds risky, bringing the wrath of the entire Northern Water Tribe down onto yourselves.”

“We can handle ourselves. We’ve gotten out of scrapes before, and we’ll do it again. Besides, you know how the Northern Water Tribe is. She probably won’t even be asked to bend.”

“Probably is a dangerous word to hedge your bets on. And you’re risking everyone’s safety, not just your own. Hoseok’s, {Name}’s—even mine and Yeontan’s, if we do decide to help you out. It’s a big ask, Yoongi.”

A sigh. “I know. But what else can I do?”

You can’t listen any longer. Your heart is in your throat and your stomach has dropped to somewhere near your toes, and every breath you take sounds too loud in the stillness of your room. Sitting back down on the bed, your hand finds the silver key at your throat, rubbing the burnished metal between your fingertips. The repetition is soothing, and you sigh as your heartbeat calms.

That night, you dream again of fire. Flames paint the horizon orange, and soot rains down on a city made of ice, coating all three hundred and ninety-one bridges in a layer of black.

///

“Ready?”

Taehyung looks over his shoulder expectantly, leather reins grasped tightly in his hands. He’s perched atop Yeontan’s head, square between his horns, and looking perfectly at home. You, on the other hand, are seated in the saddle strapped to Yeontan’s back with the rest of your companions. Hoseok is gripping Yoongi’s shoulders like his life depends on it, and the scowl on Yoongi’s face is enough to dim the otherwise sunny morning. Your nerves are on edge as well, and you can’t help the apprehension brewing in your belly as you look over the side. It’s an awfully long way down, and you aren’t even in the air yet.

“This seemed like a much better idea yesterday,” you say, glancing back up at Taehyung. “Are you sure Yeontan can carry this much weight?”

“Easy-peasy,” Taehyung replies, waving a hand dismissively. “Right, boy?”

Yeontan lets out a sound that you can only assume is agreement, and Taehyung grins widely at you before giving the reins a shake.

“That’s the spirit. Yip yip!”

You look questioningly at Yoongi, who’s idly petting the napping fire ferret in his lap. “Yip yip?”

“Don’t ask,” he grunts.

Beneath you, Yeontan tenses up, and for one agonizingly long second, all is deathly still. Then his tail comes down onto the packed earth with a thunderous slap. The sound jolts Holly from his slumber, and nearly sends a flailing Hoseok careening over the side of the saddle.

And then, you’re in the air.

The ground falls away, receding rapidly until the people and even the houses look like toys. A cool breeze caresses your cheeks, and you let your eyes flutter shut for a moment before tilting your head back to gaze at the periwinkle blue sky that now seems closer than ever.

“Look,” Yoongi murmurs. “We’re coming up on the Great Divide.”

Glancing down, you feel your mouth fall open. Gone are the lush green fields and trees, replaced instead with rocks and sandstone. A wide rift has split the land in two, and even from this height, it stretches as far as the eye can see. Golden sunlight illuminates some craggy formations while throwing others into shadow, and you stare, awestruck, as Yeontan dips lower so you can make out the layers of rusty orange and sandy beige that make up the canyon cliffs.

“It’s incredible,” you whisper. “I knew the Great Divide existed, but I never could’ve imagined how beautiful it truly is.”

“Stories don’t do it justice,” Yoongi agrees. “It’s something everyone should see at least once in their life.”

“Yeah? And how many times have you seen it?”

He grins. “Six.”

“Fifty-six, for me,” Taehyung pipes up from his perch between Yeontan’s horns. “But I swear, it looks different each time.”

Slowly, the canyon recedes into the distance, and Yeontan rises back up to his previous cruising altitude. A few low-hanging clouds float overhead, and you reach up to let your hand trail through the wispy white tendrils. “Pretty,” you remark.

Yoongi’s gaze doesn’t leave you, not even for a second. “Yeah. Beautiful.”

///

Late afternoon is fading into early evening by the time you arrive at your destination. As the name suggests, Harbor Town is situated right on the water, bordering the mouth of a wide river that flows out into the azure sea. The local fishermen are just returning from a long day’s work, and you admire the colorful array of sails rippling in the wind as they dock their boats.

“You should go on ahead to Jin’s,” Taehyung says, sliding off of Yeontan. He stands by to make sure the rest of you disembark safely, and as soon as you’re on solid ground, he hops back onto the air bison and grabs the reins once more. “I’m going to find a place for Tannie to stay, but I’ll meet you there once I’m done.”

Yoongi nods. “See you soon.”

With that settled, the three of you head into Harbor Town. Holly has elected to perch on your shoulder, and sniffs around curiously as you walk. People mill about, enjoying the cool evening air, and you smile when you spot a group of children skipping rope. A young woman plays the lute on a corner, and you stop to listen for a while before dropping a coin in her case and returning her grateful nod with a smile.

“I hope Jin’s got something good for us today,” Hoseok says as you continue on your way. “Have I mentioned how good of a cook he is, {Name}? Just you wait. He makes the best roasted turkey duck in the entire Earth Kingdom—no, the entire world.”

Yoongi snorts—part derision, part amusement. “Everything tastes good to Hoseok, because he’s a terrible cook. Manage your expectations, {Name}.”

“Are you jealous?” Hoseok snickers. “Your cooking’s pretty good too, Yoongi. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Shut u—” Yoongi starts to say, when he’s suddenly sent stumbling backward a few steps. He recovers quickly though, straightening up and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before fixing the man who’d shoved him—a tall, stocky man with a lecherous leer and arms the size of tree trunks—with a glare. “Hey. You got a problem?”

The man snickers and crosses his burly arms over his chest, exchanging a look with the four other men who flank him on either side. “You hear that, boys? This beansprout here wants to know if I have a problem.”

Yoongi cocks his head, unfazed, a strand of ashy hair falling into his eyes. “Are you going to answer me? It’s a simple enough question, isn’t it?”

One of the cronies jeers, shaking a fist, and another lets out a loud scoff. “You can’t let him talk to you like that, Zhao!”

“Yeah, show him who’s boss, Zhao!”

Yoongi sighs heavily and takes a step back, putting up his hands. “Look, I’m not looking for trouble. There’s no reason to escalate this, so just let us by.”

The man named Zhao lets loose a hearty laugh, his gaze flitting over to you before settling on Yoongi once more. “You think you can run away that easily? How about we make a bet, hmm? If you win, you and your friends can go on your merry little way. But if I win—” He smirks. “—I get your pretty little girlfriend.”

Hoseok stiffens at your side, and Yoongi’s back tenses. “Hey, wh—” Hoseok begins to say, but Yoongi thrusts out a hand, preventing him from getting any closer.

“She’s not property,” Yoongi says, his voice soft with menace. “And I’m warning you now—you really don’t want to do this.”

“Really?” Zhao raises a grizzled brow and barks out a derisive laugh. “You’ve got a big mouth, kid. But I bet you can’t take the heat!”

His last word is punctuated with a sharp jab, directed right at the center of Yoongi’s chest. Bright orange fire bursts forth from his closed fist, and the heat of the flames is so strong that even you can feel it. Your lips part—you aren’t sure whether it’s to gasp or scream or call out a warning—but before you can do anything, Yoongi steps to the side. The flames blaze past him, leaving you and Hoseok—quite literally—in the direct line of fire.

Yoongi’s gaze flits back to you, your eyes meeting for a second that seems to last for several eternities. Emotion burns in his irises—worry, fear, anger, conflict.

And then he thrusts out his hands, palms up, sending the stream of flames soaring into the sky where they burn bright for a few seconds before dissipating into thin air.

You’re fairly certain that you’re mirroring the dumbfounded expression on Zhao’s face. He recovers quickly, however, and a slow smirk crawls back onto his lips as he adopts a defensive stance. “A fellow firebender, huh?” He chuckles, cracking his knuckles. “Good. It’s been too long since I’ve had a good fight.”

“Keep waiting,” Yoongi replies, dropping down into an offensive crouch. “This won’t take long at all.”

Zhao only laughs again, long and loud. “Whoa there, kid—hold your ostrich horses. I think we should do this thing like civilized folks. And look, it’s even sunset so we can keep with tradition.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen. Zhao smirks.

“Agni Kai, for the girl.” Zhao’s gaze lands on you once more, his smirk transforming into something dangerously predatory. “How about it, sweetheart?”

Yoongi’s eyes narrow into slits, and you swear the air gets a few degrees colder as he straightens up to his full height. “For fuck’s sake,” he growls, glancing between you and Zhao. The four cronies step closer, blocking off any hope of escape, and Yoongi sighs in resignation. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

The promise of a fight clears the streets in seconds, with only a few daring bystanders hanging around the sidelines. Faces both young and old peer through the windows of the neighboring houses, wearing expressions that are equal parts curious and concerned. Despite the end of the war, distrust of the Fire Nation remains prominent. Even you, with all your years living in a city as diverse as Ba Sing Se, aren’t immune to the lingering resentments and fears. Unease bubbles up in your stomach as you watch Yoongi and Zhao turn and head for opposite ends of the street, their figures silhouetted by the setting sun.

Hoseok is standing beside you protectively, glaring whenever one of Zhao’s buddies gets a little too close. Once Yoongi and Zhao have both lowered themselves down onto one knee, a single fist planted into the dirt, he clears his throat awkwardly and raises a hand, his voice loud in the hush that has fallen.

“Uh. Start, I guess?”

Zhao jumps to his feet and lets out a guttural yell, flames bursting from his mouth in a raging inferno that ravages half the street and scorches the dirt. But Yoongi is quick, and dodges out of the way just in time. He uses the momentum to roll to his feet and take the offensive, launching a flurry of fiery bursts from his fists. Zhao is forced into defensive mode, crossing his forearms over his face as he sidesteps each successive jab. Yoongi stalks closer, no doubt planning to deliver the final blow.

His plan doesn’t work. Zhao spins with an agility that belies a man of his size and stature, and rapidly begins conjuring a wall-like shield of bright orange flames. Yoongi retreats to a safe distance, and the two men slowly begin circling each other as they look for another opportunity to attack.

Yoongi makes the first move this time, a whiplike stream of fire exploding from his raised fist like a coiled snake. Zhao drops to the ground to evade, and sweeps his leg out in a low kick that sends a flaming arc toward his opponent. In the same movement, he leaps back to his feet and barks out a laugh, something crazed and manic entering his gaze. Slowly, he brings his arms down and across his body in long, circular movements, his index and middle fingers outstretched. Next to you, Hoseok inhales sharply.

You don’t get the opportunity to question his reaction. Pale blue-white sparks begin to form at Zhao’s fingertips, arcing through the air until they grow and merge into a crackling, dancing ball of electricity. The air is so still, you can practically feel the static, the hair on your arms standing on end. Silence falls, and even Zhao’s buddies stop their jeering to watch the attack unfold.

It happens in an instant. Zhao releases the lightning, and it soars toward Yoongi in a searing blaze of white-hot heat. But Yoongi remains deathly calm, his gaze dark and solemn from beneath his ashy fringe. Slowly—deliberately—he raises his arms, and your breath catches when you see that his fingers are pointed just as Zhao’s were, mere moments ago.

“Can he—?” you ask, unable to finish the question and almost afraid to hear the answer.

“He can,” Hoseok replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

The lightning strikes Yoongi’s fingertips, burning bright and coiling around his forearm. You watch as it travels down past his shoulders and through to the fingers on the other hand, sparks flying. The smirk has been wiped clean off of Zhao’s face. His brow furrows, his expression creasing into an outraged snarl.

And then Yoongi lunges forward, bringing both of his hands to the front with his fingers outstretched. The redirected lightning surges forth and arcs through the air once again, headed straight for Zhao’s exposed chest.

At the very last second, Yoongi shifts. The blaze of electricity soars past Zhao’s left ear, burning silver for a few long seconds before fizzling out.

Calmly, Yoongi straightens back up and wipes his palms on his shirt. “Are we done here?” he drawls.

For a moment, it looks as though Zhao isn’t going to relent. Now that the shock of having his attack turned against him has worn off, his expression contorts and his fists clench once more. Yoongi plants his feet a little more firmly and raises his hands again, flames igniting in his palms. And then Zhao lets out a derisive snort and crosses his arms, turning to walk away.

“You ain’t worth my time, kid,” he says. “Let’s go, boys.”

Hoseok sticks his tongue out at Zhao’s back as he walks past with his cronies. “Are you okay?” he asks as Yoongi rejoins you. Holly scrambles down your shoulder and hops over to his, snuffling worriedly at his face, and Yoongi scratches the little fire ferret mindlessly behind the ears before shrugging off Hoseok’s concern.

“Fine,” he says brusquely. Then his gaze flickers over to you, slow hesitance settling across his features. “You must have questions.”

He’s right, but you aren’t sure that you know how to ask them just yet. Instead, you shake your head, watching as the townspeople slowly begin to make their way outside again now that the fight is over.

“Let’s just go to dinner.”

///

Dinner is a quiet affair. Jin’s food, as Hoseok promised, is delicious, and the man himself is nothing but kind and hospitable to your little group. There’s no doubt in your mind that the four men know each other well, but despite all of Jin’s pun-filled jokes and attempts to include you in the conversation, you find yourself unable to focus on anything but pushing your rice around the bowl.

“Tae couldn’t even stay still long enough to get all of his tattoos,” Jin says with a chuckle, showing you the blue arrows that adorn his wrists and sweeping aside his hair so you can see the one on his forehead.

“Don’t think that means I can’t kick your ass, though,” Taehyung retorts, brandishing a singular tattooed fist at the older airbender. “Who mastered the air scooter first, huh?”

After the meal, Jin brews some tea and invites everyone out to the back terrace. You politely excuse yourself, citing your weariness from the long day of travel, and make your way to the spare bedroom that Jin has offered you for the night. Your bag is already waiting on a table in the corner, and although most of your belongings consist of clothing, tucked away at the very bottom of the bag and rolled into a pair of socks, is a small wooden box. Painted blue and coated in resin, it’s just large enough to sit comfortably in the palm of your hand. Silently, you tug aside your collar and fish out the silvery key that dangles from your neck, unclasping the chain and inserting it into the lock.

With a dull click, the box opens. Gingerly, you pull out the item within: a small, flat piece of polished blue-green stone. One edge is broken and jagged, but you have no doubt that it was once a perfect disc. Carved on the surface are a few wavy lines, merging with another that ends in a curved point, and you instinctively trace them with an outstretched fingertip just as you have done so many times before. The repetitive movement calms your heart and soothes your soul, and you release the pent-up breath that you feel like you’ve been holding ever since the impromptu Agni Kai in the street.

“Hey. Mind if I come in?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of Yoongi’s voice. The broken stone falls out of your hand and clatters to the wooden floor, and you turn to see your firebending companion slouched against the doorframe with mussed hair and hesitance etched across his face. “Good heavens,” you manage once your heart rate settles. “Don’t you knock?”

“I asked if I could come in, didn’t I?” he asks dryly. At your expression, he sighs and rakes a hand through his ashy hair, tousling it further. “Sorry, let me try again. Can I come in? I know I probably gave you a nasty shock earlier.”

“You did,” you admit, gesturing for him to enter. He glances around awkwardly for a few seconds before taking a seat on the wooden chair by the window, and you lean down to pick up your fallen stone before sitting down on the bed opposite him.

“What’s that?” Yoongi asks curiously.

Protectively, you close your fist around the blue-green stone. “I thought you were going to let me ask the questions.”

“Fair point. Go on, then—ask away.”

Your lip finds its way between your teeth as you take a second to gather your thoughts. “Why did you hide the fact that you’re Fire Nation?” you ask at last.

Yoongi sighs and lets his head fall back, his gaze roving across the hairline crack in the ceiling. “People still don’t trust firebenders around here. Can you blame us for wanting to travel, unharassed?”

“I guess not,” you murmur. “So does that mean Hoseok is a firebender too? I mean, who exactly are you?”

Yoongi’s expression grows thoughtful. “Yeah,” he says after a moment’s deliberation. “Hoseok’s a firebender too. We both—well, I guess you’d call us nobles. My father was an admiral in the navy, and Hoseok’s from a high-ranking family. We left together when the war started escalating seven years ago, and we’ve been on the road ever since.”

“Seven years is a long time to be away from home,” you say, glancing up at him and taking in the way his pale skin seems to glimmer in the candlelight beneath the gossamer threads of his silver hair. He’s handsome, you realize with a start. You wonder how you never noticed it before.

If Yoongi notices your lingering gaze, he keeps it to himself. “It is what it is,” he says with a shrug. “I have no desire to go back.”

“Not even a little bit?” you ask.

That seems to give him pause. “Honestly? I don’t know,” he admits after a moment’s silence. “My mother passed away when I was young, and my father and I were never close. He came out pretty strongly in favor of the war, as you can probably imagine. But my brother, I do miss.”

You smile. “Older or younger?”

“Older.” Yoongi’s lips twitch upward. “Only by two years, but that didn’t stop him from rubbing it in my face.”

A laugh escapes you at the idea of him getting pushed around by his sibling, and he chuckles right alongside you. “I’m with him, there. Respect your elders, Yoongi.”

The silence that follows your laughter is an odd one—neither comfortable nor awkward. It’s one that’s been born out of necessity—neither of you knowing quite how to break it, and both of you perfectly content to let it continue. Slowly, your grip around the carved stone loosens, and you peer down at the way it sits snugly in your palm. Your thumb traces idly across the etched pattern, memorizing the way the lines flow seamlessly into each other.

“It must be important to you.” Yoongi’s voice is low, and you nod, once, in affirmation.

“It is.”

“May I?”

You stare at him, taking in his outstretched palm. There’s no compulsion in his tone—no ill will or malevolence—just an open, honest curiosity. Gingerly, you hand over the stone and watch as he admires the way the color shifts in the dim light, running the pad of his thumb along the jagged edge.

“This looks familiar,” he says after a few seconds of careful scrutiny. Holding it up to his eye, he squints in concentration before craning his head back and examining it from an arm’s length away. “Where did you get it?”

“I’ve had it for as long as I can remember,” you reply. “I’m not sure when it broke, exactly, but it brings me comfort whenever I’m feeling down.”

“Comfort,” Yoongi repeats, turning the broken stone over in his palm. His gaze flits up to yours, and you watch as realization slowly dawns on his face. “This is a pendant—it must have snapped off a necklace at some point. And this carving… it’s the emblem of the Water Tribe. I’m sure of it.”

You can’t help it—you scoff. “Are you serious, Yoongi? There’s no way. I’ve seen the Water Tribe emblem. It doesn’t look like that.”

“It does, though.” Yoongi walks over and sits down on the bed beside you, holding up the stone so that you can take a closer look. “It’s broken off here, but these two lines look like the bottom point of the crescent moon. And this...” He traces the wavy line with a fingertip. “I’m not a betting man, but I’d wager anything that this represents the ocean. See?”

“I—” The word dies in your throat. Swallowing, you try again. “I guess you could be right. But why? Why would I have a pendant with the Water Tribe’s emblem on it? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’m not sure,” Yoongi admits. “But we’re halfway to the Northern Water Tribe now. Maybe we’ll find the answers we’re looking for there.”

You hesitate. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“And if not, we’ll keep looking.” Yoongi adds, pressing the broken pendant back into your hand. His fingers brush briefly against yours, and your cheeks heat up at the contact.

“Thanks.”

Yoongi nods. “You should get some rest. We have an early start tomorrow.”

“You too,” you tell him, and stand to walk him to the door. “Goodnight, Yoongi.”

He returns your smile with one of his own, gummy and warm. “Goodnight, {Name}.” The door shuts behind him, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Leaning back, you let your head fall against the wood, your heartbeat thudding in your ears.

-

On the other side of the door, Yoongi stares up at the ceiling and wills his own racing heart to calm.

///

You depart from Jin’s house just after sunrise the next morning, bellies and packs full of the food he’s so generously provided. Taehyung, who’d originally only planned to take you as far as Harbor Town, has decided to stay with you for another day. You chat with him as you load your bags onto Yeontan’s back, watching in amusement as Holly pounces playfully onto the air bison’s nose and gets buffeted back by a single exhale from the much larger creature.

“I’m happy you’re staying, of course,” you tell him. “But I thought you needed to get back to your village. Weren’t you saying something about that the other day?”

Taehyung shrugs and flashes you a boxy grin—something you’ve grown accustomed to seeing every day, even in the short amount of time you’ve spent together. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to travel,” he admits. “Guess I kind of forgot what I was missing. Besides, I’m curious to see what happens with you, princess.”

“Hey.” Yoongi’s irritated voice cuts in. “More packing, less talking.”

Taehyung’s grin widens.“Someone got out on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” he says in a conspiratorial whisper, drawing a laugh from you and a withering glare from Yoongi.

With all your belongings packed, you bid farewell to Jin. The morning air is pleasantly warm, but promises to get hotter as the day wears on, and Taehyung decides that it would benefit all of you if Yeontan were to float along with the river's current instead of taking to the skies.

“We would have been following the river, anyway,” he says with a shrug. “Why not cruise in style instead?”

“I like that plan,” Hoseok says, and you belatedly remember that he’s afraid of heights. “I like that plan a lot.”

Yeontan, as it turns out, is an agile swimmer and a welcome presence on the river. People wave happily at the air bison as he dodges around fishing boats, and several children lean overboard to try and pet him. Holly draws a fair amount of attention as well, perched atop Yeontan’s head like a little red beacon and preening whenever a child points at him.

The river narrows as you leave the harbor behind. The fishing boats become more sparse, and the current grows in strength and speed. Peering over the edge of Yeontan’s saddle, you watch the water eddy and whir, the morning sun glittering off the surface like diamonds. Along the shore, several families are washing clothes and fishing. A few children splash around in the shallows under the watchful eye of their parents, laughing and shouting as they toss a ball around. Holly watches raptly, standing on his back legs with his fluffy tail laid flat for support, and Taehyung gives the fire ferret a pat as he climbs out of the saddle and returns to his seat atop Yeontan’s head.

“It must have rained recently,” he says, glancing over at the shoreline. “Water level’s higher than it usually is. I wonder if they’ve seen any floo—”

He never gets to finish his sentence. A scream interrupts him, high-pitched and desperate, before it abruptly cuts off. The families on the shore have erupted into chaos, pointing into the water, and that’s when you see her. One of the little girls playing ball has wandered too far into the river, and is quickly being carried downstream by the rapid current.

“Help!” she cries, finally managing to break the surface of the water again, her arms flailing. “Help me, please!”

Taehyung’s eyes go wide. “Yeontan, can you bring us closer?”

Obediently, Yeontan speeds up, swimming forward until the little girl is just a stone’s throw away. “Do we have a rope?” Hoseok asks frantically, flapping his hands.

“I don’t know,” Yoongi hisses, digging through his pack. “We may have used the last of ours in Ba Sing Se, fuck—”

You aren’t listening anymore. Your companions’ voices fade into the background as your focus zeroes in on the rushing water and the helpless cries of the little girl caught in the current. Her hair is pulled up into twin pigtails on either side of her head, dampened black by the water, and her little face is contorted in fear. She can’t be any older than six or seven. and something surges in you as her cries grow increasingly desperate and pained.

It’s as if an instinct that has been long since buried in the depths of your mind has suddenly resurfaced. The memories come unbidden, and your arms rise of their own accord, your hands outstretched. The motion comes so naturally, you’re barely even aware you’re doing it. A wave of your arms, a twist of your hands. The river water rises skyward in a long, rippling stream, carrying the little girl with it, and deposits her safely into the saddle between Yoongi and Hoseok. Both men are stunned into silence, twin expressions of shock riveted on you, and you snap back to attention when Yoongi calls your name.

“{Name},” he begins, his voice wavering. “What… how…?”

Your arms fall back down to your sides. “I—I don’t know,” you murmur in amazement, gazing down at your palms. They don’t look or feel any different, but when you look up again, Taehyung is grinning broadly.

“Do you feel it now? The connection to the water?” he asks.

And you do. The river calls out to you, burbling gently like a song that you’ve always known. “You were right,” you whisper. “I can’t believe it.”

The little girl’s cries slowly die down, and Hoseok pats her back gently as she hiccups and wipes her eyes. “Thank you, Miss Waterbender,” she says, glancing at you shyly from beneath wet eyelashes. Yeontan swims to shore, and you help her disembark, watching as her family greets her with open arms and relief etched across their faces.

“How can we ever repay you?” her father asks, glassy-eyed. “You saved our little Keiko’s life.”

“It was nothing, really,” you assure. “We were just in the right place at the right time. Anyone would have done the same thing.”

Bidding Keiko and her family a warm goodbye, you and your companions climb back aboard Yeontan’s back. “You did good, buddy,” Taehyung says, stroking his bison’s nose. “I’ll get you all the hay you want when we get home, okay?”

Yeontan snorts happily, licking Taehyung from his toes all the way to his crown, and the airbender laughingly dries himself off with a gust of air. Another burst of air sends him skyward, his sleeves billowing out around him as he lands gracefully on Yeontan’s head. “Everyone ready to go?” he asks. “Yes? Great. Yip yip, Tannie!”

With one last bellowing farewell, Yeontan lurches back into the river. You wave at Keiko and her family until you round a bend, then settle back in between Yoongi and Hoseok. Holly has made himself comfortable around Yoongi’s neck again, and you giggle and pat him on the head before reaching for your water bottle and taking a sip. Then you pour some into your open palm, staring at the shimmering surface and relishing in the unmistakable connection you now feel to the water. At your command, the liquid coalesces into a perfect sphere, hovering in the air just above your outstretched fingertips.

Hoseok whistles. “Wow, that’s incredible. Look at you, {Name}. You’ll have them all fooled now that you’re actually a waterbender.”

You let the water fall, splashing back into your cupped palm once more. “I don’t think there’s a need to fool anyone anymore,” you murmur. “I...I think I remember.”

Hoseok’s eyes widen. “Do you mean…?”

Shakily, you nod. “I’m starting to remember things. How I wound up in Ba Sing Se, and why. It’s odd, really. As soon as I found my connection to the water, everything else resurfaced. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Hoseok leans forward. “Does that mean you’re the tribal princess? The real, actual tribal princess?”

“I… yes. Yes, I think so.” Tentatively, you turn to Yoongi, who still has yet to speak. He’s gazing back at you, his face unreadable, but you think you catch a flicker of something almost melancholy before he wipes it away and schools his expression into something neutral.

“So?” he asks. “How did it happen? How did you end up in Ba Sing Se?”

“It was the raids,” you tell him. “You called it, didn’t you? Right when we first met, you said that I might have been one of the people displaced by the Fire Nation. And you were right.”

With your new knowledge of your past, your dreams now make perfect sense. You can almost feel the heat of the flames, can almost reach out and touch the blackened snow that rains down every time you close your eyes. As if sensing your distress, Holly unwinds himself from Yoongi’s neck and crawls into your lap instead, nudging your elbow in silent solidarity. Gently, you scratch behind his ears.

“It happened when I was seven,” you begin slowly. “The Fire Nation launched their first big raid in the war, targeting Agna Qel’a directly. They were after the waterbenders—rounding up our warriors and healers to slowly weaken our defenses. It was a bloody battle, and even though the city didn’t fall, the Fire Nation took plenty of prisoners.”

Yoongi exhales softly. “And you were one of them.”

“I was one of them,” you confirm. “I wanted to help my parents. I wanted to defend my people. So I snuck out from the palace where the elderly and children were sheltering, and I went to go find my mother and father. But the Fire Nation… they found me first. They dragged me away and threw me into a cell full of other waterbenders. I don’t think they knew who I was, otherwise they probably would’ve been more careful.”

“So how did you escape?” Taehyung asks, his brow furrowed. “It can’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t.” Memories from that night flit to the forefront of your mind—the way the cell bars creaked and groaned as you sailed farther from home. “The Fire Nation ships needed some kind of maintenance. They stopped somewhere along the northern coast of the Earth Kingdom, so we started to plan. Some of the waterbenders pulled moisture from the air to make keys out of ice. A few of the earthbenders imprisoned with us said that we should head for Ba Sing Se, so that’s what we tried to do. We ran into the forest and hid in the trees, but the Fire Nation found us again. But I… I was lucky. I was small, and it was the middle of the night. They didn’t notice me.”

“There’s no way you were anywhere near Ba Sing Se, though.” Hoseok frowns. “How did you get there?”

“You know the old adage—all roads lead to Ba Sing Se, don’t they?” You chuckle ruefully. “But I got lucky again, in all honesty. I picked a direction and started walking, and by daybreak, I found a village. A traveling group of musicians were headed to Ba Sing Se, and let me travel with them on their cart. It took weeks to get there, but we made it in one piece. Once we got there, though…” You sigh. “My memory’s a little fuzzy here, but I think I fell off the cart. Might have hit my head too—I’m not sure—but you’ve seen the Lower Ring. You’ve seen how crowded it is. Someone must’ve found me and dropped me off at the orphanage. My memories… they faded. And, well, you know the rest.”

A hush falls as your words fade into silence. Hoseok is the first to break it, and you smile wanly at him when he lays a hand on your shoulder. “That’s terrible,” he says. “I’m so sorry, {Name}.”

“Don’t be,” you reply, shrugging. “You weren’t the ones who tore me away from my home.”

“Still,” Hoseok presses. “It’s horrible, what happened to you.”

You shrug again and take another sip of water, meeting Yoongi’s gaze over the rim of your bottle. “It’s all right,” you murmur. “It is what it is.”

///

By nightfall, you’ve reached the northernmost shore of the Earth Kingdom. The river splits in two before dropping off into a cascading waterfall, and Yeontan soars in a wide loop before landing on the natural island that’s formed right at the cliff’s edge. It’s home to a resort village that draws visitors from all over the world with its lavish spas, and flooded with cherry blossom trees that bloom almost year-round. The soft pink blossoms have an almost silvery luminescence in the moonlight, petals blowing gently in the breeze. You inhale deeply, and the delicate floral scent fills your nostrils.

“We can’t afford to stay in the resort itself, I’m afraid.” Yoongi glances toward the far shore, where a grove of white-petaled cherry blossom trees is flourishing, the branches hanging low over the rushing river. “There may be room to make camp over there, though. Can you fly us over, Tan?”

Yeontan rumbles in affirmation, and within seconds, you’re on the ground on the other side of the river. Together, the four of you set up camp—pitching tents and gathering wood. Yoongi kneels before a pile of twigs and kindling, arranging it to his liking, and you watch as he lights it with an open palmed thrust of his hand.

You’re polishing off the last of your dinner when you hear music off in the distance. The island in the middle of the river is lit up with colorful lanterns, and even the sound of the crackling fire and rushing water can’t drown out the sounds of laughter and cheer. “What’s going on?” you ask Yoongi, who’s sitting beside you. “Is there some kind of event happening over there?”

He hums. “It must be the cherry blossom festival—the village has one every year. Should we go take a look?”

Eagerly, you nod. Hoseok and Taehyung voice their hearty approval, and even Holly perks up from his spot in Yoongi’s lap. As soon as the food is gone and the fire is extinguished, the four of you head across the bridge and back over to the island in the middle of the river.

Street vendors have set up shop all along the main road. Their stalls are strung with colorful lanterns, and you stop to admire a delicate vase decorated with cherry blossoms that have been painted in painstaking detail. Another vendor boasts a variety of floral teas that claim to cure all ailments—a detail he repeats loudly and often. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Yoongi shaking his head in disapproval.

Up ahead, where the street opens up into the village square, you come across a cluster of game stalls. Taehyung challenges Hoseok to a game of darts, and Yoongi sighs heavily when the two immediately run off to play. “It’s like babysitting actual children,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You laugh, casting a look back at where the two are now engrossed in the game. “Let’s take a break, then,” you whisper. “Come on!” Grabbing his hand, you pull him around a nearby corner and down a smaller, narrower street. It’s less crowded here, with fewer vendors and stalls, but the cherry blossom trees lining the lane are no less magnificent. The red and gold lanterns stringing between the trees cast your surroundings in a warm glow, and, together, you stroll farther from the raucous main square.

“Hey,” Yoongi murmurs suddenly. “Look.”

You follow the trajectory of his index finger, your gaze alighting on a modest shop tucked between a restaurant and an inn. And though it’s far from the first shop you’ve seen that boasts clothes in the front window, it’s the style of the clothing that catches your attention and keeps it.

“Those are Water Tribe colors,” you breathe. “Those are Water Tribe clothes.”

Instinct moves your feet forward, and with a start, you realize that you’re still holding onto Yoongi’s hand. He hasn’t moved to pull away yet, his palm warm and solid against yours, and you feel your cheeks heat up when he gives you a quizzical glance. “Well? Don’t you want to take a closer look?”

Hurriedly, you nod, letting him tug you into the shop. The owner is an older woman with silver streaking her dark hair, her genial smile growing as you approach. “Welcome! Are you looking for anything in particular today?”

You glance shyly at Yoongi. “I-I think we’re just browsing for now, if that’s all right.”

“Of course—take your time. I’ll be here if you need me.”

Thanking her, you begin browsing through the shop. There seems to be a little bit of everything lining the shelves—from woven baskets to rugs to war helmets. Each one sparks something within you, dawning a new realization or resurfacing another memory. You remember the way your mother used to remind you to put your toys back into the basket when you were done playing, or how you admired your father’s intricate helmet proudly on display in the war room.

You don’t realize you’re crying until Yoongi hands you a little scrap of cloth from his pocket. Sniffling, you pull your hand out of his, turning away to wipe hastily at your eyes. “Sorry,” you mumble. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he replies, just as softly. “This is a lot, right? I get it. Do you want to leave?”

You shake your head. “No, no, we can stay. I just need a second.”

As you wipe at your eyes again, your gaze alights on a dress in the corner of the shop. Made out of deep blue material and lined at the edges with white, there’s no doubt that it’s one of the most beautiful pieces of clothing you’ve ever seen. Despite the relative thickness of the cloth, the dress still drapes over the curves of the mannequin, flowing down until it almost reaches the floor.

“You have a good eye.” The shopkeeper materializes beside you with a smile. “Would you like to try it on?”

“Could I?’ you blurt. The excitement in your voice is unmistakable, and the shopkeeper hides a laugh behind her hand. Nodding, she reaches up to unfasten the dress from the mannequin and presses it into your arms.

“Go on, dear,” she says, pulling aside a curtain you hadn’t noticed before. “You can change in here.”

You step inside the little room and draw the curtain closed. The opposite wall houses a reflective pane of glass, and you blink when you catch sight of your reflection. Stepping closer, you hold the dress up to your shoulders and let the fabric fall, watching it billow down to your ankles.

Yoongi and the shopkeeper are waiting outside when you exit the changing room, engaged in conversation. At your arrival, they turn, and you shyly smooth down the folds of your dress. “Well? Does it look okay?”

The shopkeeper beams, stepping forward to fuss with the collar and straighten out your skirt. “You look absolutely beautiful, dear. Doesn’t she?”

Yoongi balks at the attention, gazing anywhere but at you. “Yeah. You, uh. You look nice.”

You smile. “And the price isn’t bad either. Do you think I should buy it, Yoongi?”

He shrugs awkwardly. “If you want. It’s none of my business.”

You consider it for a few more moments before nodding decisively at the shopkeeper. “I’ll take it,” you say. “Just let me go change—“

She stops you in your tracks, grasping your arm with a laugh. “Wear it out, dear! There’s a festival, after all—you’ll be turning heads left and right. Your boyfriend will have to spend the whole night fighting them off!”

Your cheeks heat up at her assumption, and when you glance over at Yoongi, his ears are flushed bright pink. “We aren’t—I mean, we’re not—“ you stammer, but the shopkeeper is already walking back toward the front of the shop. You’re left with no choice but to follow her, with Yoongi trailing on your heels.

You and Yoongi leave the shop with slightly lighter pockets and a standing invitation to return any time. Together, you wander through the village, following the road as it winds down toward the cliff’s edge. It comes to an end at a stone pagoda that overlooks the waterfall, and you stop to listen to the cascading water and the waves down below crashing against the rocky shoreline.

Silently, you and Yoongi ascend the steps to the pagoda, coming to a stop at the railing. The stone is cool beneath your fingertips as you peer over the edge to get a better look at the waterfall, and Yoongi inhales sharply when you lean a little too far.

“Careful,” he cautions.

You smile at him. “I know. Don’t worry.” Nonetheless, you straighten back up, watching out of the corner of your eye as Yoongi takes a seat on the long bench lining the wall. He’s abandoned his usual earth tones for an all-black ensemble tonight, and you silently admire the way the lanterns strung along the roof bathe him in a soft golden glow.

“You must be looking forward to returning home,” he says suddenly, his voice soft.

You let your gaze wander back out to the open ocean, the black water streaked through with white-capped waves. The horizon would have been near invisible in the velvety darkness of nighttime, if not for the scattered diamond pinpricks of starlight and the nearly full moon. And somewhere beyond that horizon lies the Northern Water Tribe. Somewhere beyond the horizon, lies your home. The thought is terrifying and thrilling, all at once.

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” you tell him honestly. “What if I’m not what they expect? What if… what if they don’t like me?”

Yoongi snorts out a laugh. “Look, we haven’t known each other for very long, but that’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.” He stands and joins you at the railing, his shoulder brushing yours. “They’re your family. They’ve been looking for you for years. And they’re going to love you.”

He looks like he wants to say something else, but his words fade into silence and you don’t try to break it. Instead, you let your head fall against his shoulder, smiling when he tentatively wraps an arm around your waist. And that’s how you remain, until Hoseok and Taehyung finally manage to track you down to return back to camp.

-

When you dream that night, you don’t dream of fire. Instead, you dream of Yoongi, and the comforting warmth of his embrace.

///

You don’t recall the last time you set foot in the ocean, but stepping into it now feels as natural as breathing. Hoseok is loading your bags into a newly acquired boat, while Yoongi climbs aboard to check the masts and rigging one last time. Taehyung, much to your disappointment, made the decision to leave just after sunrise, citing his hatred of the cold as all the more reason he can’t stay for the last stretch of your journey. As much as I’d like to stay, we really should be getting home, he’d said, tapping your nose in farewell. Wishing you the best of luck princess. Come visit me and Tannie any time, okay?

Holly draws you out of your thoughts. The little fire ferret is clearly already beginning to miss Yeontan, perched on your shoulder and nuzzling into your neck. Gently, you reach up to give him a pat, smiling when he lets out a low squeak of contentment. “Do you want to see something neat?” you ask. Taking his nose crinkle as assent, you stretch your hand out, palm down, and slowly curl your fingers inward. A stream of water begins to rise out of the waves, and Holly perks up in interest as you begin to narrow your focus—the stream thinning out and lengthening until it’s level with your shoulder. Curiously, the little fire ferret licks it, and you’re about to chide him for swallowing the saltwater when Hoseok’s voice catches your attention.

“I still can’t believe it,” he says, a little winded from moving all the bags. “We’re bringing the actual tribal princess back home. It’s going to be amazing.”

You aren’t sure if you imagine it, but Yoongi seems to hesitate before responding. “Yeah. Amazing.”

“Hey, {Name}!” Hoseok’s head of auburn hair pops up from the starboard. “You ready to go home?”

You nod, letting the water fall with a splash. You’re wearing the blue dress from last night again, and Hoseok whistles as he helps you board the boat. “Wow, you look great!” he enthuses, coaxing you into a twirl. “Every bit the princess—the Water Tribe won’t know what hit them. Doesn’t she look great, Yoongi?”

Yoongi barely even looks at you, feigning interest in a large knot in one of the ropes. “Yeah. Really great.”

Hoseok is seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air. He claps Yoongi on the back and moves to man the rudder, nodding at you as he passes. “Take a seat. Yoongi’ll push us off, and then we’ll be on our way to the Northern Water Tribe. I hope you brought an extra coat!”

“Can I help?” you ask. “I think I can bend us into deeper water. That would be easier, wouldn’t it? No one will have to get off the boat.”

Hoseok beams. “I am so glad you’re a waterbender. Go for it!”

With Hoseok steering and Yoongi manning the ropes, you make your way to the back of the boat and begin your task. Reaching out, you let the connection to the water flood through your fingertips, surging through your veins until it almost feels like you are one with the ocean. Slowly, you begin to push at the waves—forcing them ashore before pulling them back. Broadening your movements, the water begins to swell higher, raising the hull of the boat off the sandy shore. Within a minute, you’re fully afloat. The sea breeze picks up, filling the sails.

And with that, you’re off.

“The first half of the trip shouldn’t be too bad,” Yoongi says, pulling his map from his pocket and unfurling it. “The second half is going to be a little tougher with the ice. We’ve only done this trip once before, and nearly ended up wrecking the boat on an iceberg.”

“But we didn’t have a waterbender with us last time,” Hoseok points out, wagging a finger.

“Fair point.” Yoongi’s gaze flits up to you. “Think you can bend us around a few icebergs?”

You grin at him. “I can try my best.”

He grins back. The shoreline recedes in the distance until you’re surrounded on all sides by open aquamarine ocean, stretching endlessly to the pale blue horizon. Hoseok jams the rudder in place to maintain a straight course ahead, and Yoongi fiddles with the sails until he’s satisfied. Around midday, you come together for a quick meal, munching on the sandwiches Jin prepared for the remainder of your journey.

The first icebergs come into view a few hours after lunch. Hoseok darts back to the rudder to steer, and Yoongi loosens the sail. “Bear right,” he calls, eyeing the chunk of floating ice. “Steady, now.”

Up ahead, you can see more icebergs, larger than the first and slowly converging upon your vessel. “Look out!” you cry. Yoongi glances up and takes in the situation in an instant, barking out orders as the boat gets caught up in a riptide and swerves closer to the ice.

“Steer us to the left, Hoseok! Now hang a right, and—{Name}, can you bend as much water as you can between us and that ice on our left?”

You jump to obey, sweeping your arms up in an overhead arc that sends up a swell of rippling water. The boat twists and turns, but with Yoongi’s careful guidance and Hoseok’s impeccable steering, you manage to make it through the treacherous field of ice. Hoseok guides your vessel between the last two icebergs, rising up on either side like silent sentinels.

And as you float back out into the open blue ocean, the Northern Water Tribe comes into view.

You see the wall first—a massive, towering structure crafted of ice and snow that gleams gold in the setting sun. Just beyond it, the capital city of Agna Qel’a rises up, shimmering like a mirage that’s simultaneously familiar and foreign.

Armed guards greet you at the gate, dressed in waterbender blues that match your own. “What business do you have in the capital?” they begin to ask, before their eyes slowly widen. You hear their murmurs of incredulity, no matter how they try to keep their voices hushed. Is that the princess? Could it be?

The gates open—a yawning, icy maw that Hoseok smoothly guides your boat into. You spot the waterbenders atop the wall who control the gate, and watch in amazement as they close it back up behind you, their movements synchronized in perfect unison.

One of the guards meets up with you once you are within the walls, boarding your boat to guide you through the canals that lead to the palace. Like all the other buildings in the city, the palace is carefully constructed out of ice and densely packed snow, with grandiose steps that lead up to where the chief and his wife are waiting.

“You may proceed,” the guard says, inclining his head as you moor the boat. Yoongi lends you his arm as you disembark, and you shyly follow him as he takes the lead. Coming to a stop in front of the chief, the three of you respectfully bow your heads.

“Please, rise.” The chief’s voice is deep and pleasant, resonating within your mind as something you’ve heard long ago. Slowly, you look up.

“Chieftain,” Yoongi begins, but he’s cut off with a wave.

“I know your face,” the chief says, the wonder on his face unmistakable. “I would know your face anywhere. My child. My dear daughter—you’ve finally returned home.”

“Dad,” you whisper, your throat tight. “Mom.”

Your mother is holding back tears, wiping at her eyes hastily as she stands and takes a few steps closer. “It’s you,” she murmurs in amazement. “You’ve finally come back to us.”

From there, everything is a blur. Your mother calls for attendants to sweep you away to the bath house while your father stays behind to speak to Yoongi and Hoseok. “I was beginning to lose hope,” he says. “I didn’t think we’d ever see our daughter again. How ever can we repay you?”

“We were just doing our duty,” Yoongi says.

Hoseok raises his hand. “But, um. There was mention of a monetary reward, sir, and we certainly aren’t going to say no to that…”

You don’t hear the rest of the conversation. You’re led to a room with a large tub, which is quickly filled with hot water and an assortment of sweet-smelling oils. The attendants leave you to bathe alone, and your muscles groan in relief as you slip into the water.

Home, you think to yourself. I’m finally home.

///

“Does it look okay?” you ask, for what must be the umpteenth time.

Maya—a dark-haired girl with bright blue eyes who serves as one of your attendants—giggles and adjusts your sleeves one last time. A fresh dress was laid out for you after your bath, made of a shimmery, sheer white material that slowly deepens into a deep royal blue at the hem. Your feet have been shoved into uncomfortably tight shoes, and your hair corralled into something presentable. Silver shines at your throat and wrists, glinting in the light, and you fiddle nervously with the multitude of bangles.

“You look lovely, princess,” Maya assures. “Honest.”

You blanch at the title. “Please, there’s no need to call me that,” you tell her. “Just go ahead and call me {Name}, okay?”

She offers you a shy smile. “Okay. {Name}, then. Are you ready to head down to the party?”

You take in a deep breath, releasing it again in a long stream. “Not really. But does it matter?”

Maya shrugs and opens the door leading out into the hallway. “I suppose not. Shall we, prin—I mean, {Name}?”

You take another steadying breath to quash your nerves. Then you nod and walk through the door, your heels clicking against the smooth floor. Already, you can hear distant music and chatter, and follow after Maya who is undoubtedly a more dependable guide than your own limited memories. She leads you down the hallway and around a few corners, until you’re standing in front of another door—this one taller and wider than the last.

“They’re all through there,” she murmurs. “Ready?”

One breath in, another breath out. You hesitate—wonder for a second where Yoongi and Hoseok have wound up—and then nod again. “Yeah. I’m ready. Let’s go.”

The doors open, revealing a magnificent ballroom within. You’re standing at the top of a grand staircase, carpeted in royal blue, and your heart jumps into your throat as all attention turns to you. A voice announces your arrival—welcoming back the long lost tribal princess—and every head in the room bows out of respect as you slowly begin to make your descent.

Your father and mother meet you at the bottom of the staircase, wearing clothing made of the same shimmery white and blue material. Your mother embraces you tightly before ushering you toward your father, who offers you his arm with a warm smile. “How about a dance, hmm?”

Tentatively, you return the smile and take his proffered arm. The music swells, and your father sweeps you into the center of the dance floor. “You must have had many adventures while you were away,” he says as he twirls you in a circle.

You laugh. “A few, I suppose.”

He grins, and you’re suddenly struck by how similar it is to your own. “Well, we’ll have plenty of time to catch up later. But for now—” He nods, and you turn to follow the trajectory of his gaze.

Yoongi is standing there, mere feet away. He’s wearing deep tribal blues and sturdy black boots, and has clearly washed up since the last time you saw him. His ashy hair has been styled, falling across his forehead in soft waves, and your fingers itch to reach out and brush them back.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hi,” he replies. “Care for a dance?”

You turn to look at your father, but he’s already disappeared amongst the other dancers. Yoongi extends a hand, palm upward, and you take it, allowing him to pull you in until you’re nearly chest to chest. Your free hand finds his shoulder, and his finds purchase in the curve of your waist. The song changes—transforms into something softer and more intimate—and slowly, you begin to dance.

It’s easy to lose yourself in the music—in Yoongi. He’s gazing down at you with something unspeakably fond glimmering in his dark eyes, and you’re certain you’re mirroring his expression. Dance after dance, around and around in dizzying circles you go. Yoongi’s grip on your waist is firm but gentle, and you can’t help but nestle closer to the warmth radiating off his chest.

“So, how has it been?” Yoongi murmurs into your ear. “Is it everything you dreamed it would be?”

“It’s amazing,” you tell him honestly. “Even though things have changed, and I don’t remember that much from before... it all feels so familiar. It’s the strangest thing.”

“Have you had a chance to walk around yet? Get reacquainted with the grounds?”

You shake your head. “No, not yet. It’s been a whirlwind of a day.”

He smiles. “Should we go get some air then?”

Your nod is automatic and immediate, relief flooding through you at the suggestion. Yoongi offers you his arm in true gentlemanly fashion, and together, the two of you make your way out of the ballroom and into the darker, quieter corridors of the palace.

Your aimless wandering eventually leads you outside. The moon is full, shining brightly down on the city from her lofty throne in the heavens. The streets of Agna Qel’a are near deserted, and you surmise that everyone in the city is either at the party or already asleep. You and Yoongi stroll down a wide boulevard, admiring the way the moon shines off the snow and turns the canal water into liquid silver. Up ahead lies a bridge, and you wordlessly come to a stop at the highest point, leaning against the railing and gazing down into the canal below.

“It’s a nice night,” you murmur.

“It is,” Yoongi agrees, joining you at the edge.

“You aren’t cold?”

His mouth tilts up into a grin. “Firebender, remember? I’ve got my breath of fire to keep me warm.”

You laugh and glance over at him, taking in his profile silhouetted against the stark white buildings. “You know, I never did thank you properly for any of this. I never would have left Ba Sing Se if it weren’t for you—never would have gotten back here. So, thank you, Yoongi. Truly.”

Yoongi exhales heavily, a whorling cloud of misty white floating up and dissipating into the night air. “I don’t deserve your gratitude—not really. My motivation for bringing you here was completely selfish.”

“Selfish or not, you still did it.” You grin at him. “Just let me thank you, Yoongi.”

Yoongi grins back, straightening up and reaching into his pocket. “I have something for you,” he says, and you watch as he pulls out a small bundle of cloth. He takes your hand, placing it in your open palm, and you unwrap the cloth to find a necklace nestled within. The pendant is made of the same blue-green stone as your broken one, etched with the delicate outline of what you recognize is a moonflower. It hangs from a deep blue ribbon, smooth and silky, and Yoongi scratches the back of his neck sheepishly as you run your fingertip across the carving. “It’s a little rough,” he says. “I’ve never worked with this kind of stone before, and—”

You’re pulling him in before he can even finish his sentence, your hands settling on his nape and tugging him down until your lips are a hair’s breadth apart. “Yoongi,” you breathe. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

And then you lean in and press your lips to his.

Everything else falls away when Yoongi’s hands find their way to your hips, tugging you flush against his chest. He’s warm beneath your fingertips, warm against your lips, and you part for him willingly when his tongue seeks entrance.

By the time you separate, both of you are a little breathless, puffs of misty white dispelling in the chilly air as you regain control over your lungs. He doesn’t let you stray far, though, and you don’t want to. Gently, he reaches up, stroking across the curve of your cheek with a calloused thumb, and you lean into the touch with a smile that grows even wider when he presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“How long are you staying?” you murmur when he pulls away. “I heard you talking to my father about the reward.”

His expression sobers somewhat. “Yes—he’s a generous man, your father. But I’m afraid we can’t stay.”

“You can’t?”

He shakes his head. “We’re headed to Omashu to visit an old friend. And then...” He pauses. “Hoseok and I talked, and... I think we’re going to go back to the Fire Nation for a little while.”

“You’ll be able to see your brother again.” Your eyes are beginning to sting, and you aren’t sure whether it’s from the cold or something else. You swallow, hard, before continuing. “That’s wonderful.”

Yoongi nods and looks away. “Yeah.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“Princess!”

Startled, you break away from Yoongi, backing up a few steps for good measure. A guard in blue is standing in a boat below the bridge, his gaze politely averted.

“I’ve been sent to search for you,” he says. “The chief requests your presence.”

You hesitate, glancing back at Yoongi, but he shakes his head and offers you a crooked little smile. “You look beautiful tonight,” he murmurs, taking your hand and pressing a chaste kiss on the back of it. “Go on. Go to your people, princess.”

Reluctantly, you allow the guard to take your arm, accepting the help he offers as you step into the boat. You cast one last glance back at Yoongi as the water carries you away, though—his lone figure silhouetted on the bridge beneath the silvery moonlight.

///

“You’re joking.”

Hoseok stares at Yoongi, open-mouthed. “You kissed her? And now you’re leaving? Just like that?”

Yoongi sighs heavily and tosses another bag into the bottom of the boat. “She’s back home. That’s why we traveled all this way.”

“But you like her.” Hoseok lays a hand on his friend’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks when he goes to pick up another bag of supplies that the chief—your father—has so generously provided for their trip back to the Earth Kingdom.

Yoongi shrugs him off. “So?”

“So?“ Hoseok throws his hands up in exasperation. “Stay! Talk to her! I’ve never seen you look so happy, not as long as I’ve known you. Come on, Yoongi, you have to—“

“I don’t have to do anything,” Yoongi snaps. “Look, I don’t expect you to understand, okay? Can we just go?”

Hoseok reluctantly shuts his mouth with an audible click, and together, they push the boat into the waves lapping at the icy shore of the harbor. Hoseok hops aboard, and Yoongi goes to do the same when a voice speaks from behind him.

“Have room for one more?”

Both men freeze, turning to face you with twin expressions of shock. “You—“ Yoongi stammers. “What are you doing here?”

“What, not going to welcome me aboard this time?” you tease, stepping past him and dropping your pack into the boat. Your new necklace glints at your throat, the delicately etched moonflower shining silver in the light.

“I don’t understand,” Yoongi says dumbly.

You tilt your head. “I think you do, though. I think you picked up on it right when we met—how unhappy I was stuck in Ba Sing Se. This—“ you gesture at the shimmering city of ice and snow behind you, “—wouldn’t be any different. Not really. And as much as I loved seeing my parents and my nation again… I think I love you more.”

Yoongi swallows. His throat bobs a few times, and you’re just beginning to doubt your boldness when he grabs both your hands and pulls you into his chest.

“I think I love you too,” he half-whispers, half-laughs against your lips. And then he’s kissing you, and Hoseok is cheering in the background, but you can’t even find it in yourself to care that you have an audience.

Because sometimes, home isn’t a place. Sometimes home is a person. And Min Yoongi, you realize, is yours.

also set in this universe:

[jhs]

[star-spangledstud]

SELF-DEFENSE

Request: Um can I request something with steeb🥺🥺👉👈 Maybe him teaching a reader to fight or drive or work out! Thank you❤❤ @donutloverxo​

Pairing: Steve Rogers x (female!) reader

Warnings: smut (18+), PIV, lil bit of slapping, nothing crazy. 

Word Count: 3062.

Note: Thank you for the request. Sorry it’s taken me so long, I’ve been afk from Tumblr for a while. Hope you still like it!

It’s entirely too early in the morning when your phone rings. Shrill, high tones jolt you out of peaceful slumber. The sound forces you to open your eyes, brain ripped from the dream you were having but already can no longer remember.

With a groan, you roll over in bed, body tangled in pink satin sheets that you’ve managed to wrap entirely around yourself during the night. Blindly, you reach for your phone. Your hand slaps across the wooden nightstand next to your bed until you finally feel the vibrating device cramped between your stiff fingers. 

Ready to curse at whoever dares to call you at this ungodly hour, you don’t bother looking at the screen to see who’s calling you. A single swipe and the phone is pressed up against your ear, breath coming out through your nose in short bursts of annoyance while you purse your lips in preparation for what’s to come. 

“Good morning, peach,” you hear on the other end of the line.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you instantly swallow the curses you were ready to spit at the caller down. A smile you didn’t know you were capable of this early in the morning blossoms on your face instead, anger long forgotten by the time you manage to form a coherent reply. 

“Good morning, stud,” you say with a raspy voice, followed by a soft, sleepy chuckle.

“Did I wake you up?” he asks, a hint of amusement in his tone when he hears you yawn on his end of the line.

“Nah. I always get up at,” you look at your alarm clock, “five in the morning.”

“I’m sorry peachy,” he doesn’t mean it; If it were up to him, you’d never sleep, “I just wanted to hear my girl’s beautiful voice.” 

With cheeks heating up quickly, you smooth out the soft fabric of your red nightgown. Buying it was, of course, Natasha’s idea. It’s not really your style, but somehow, she managed to convince you it is.

“How was your run?” you ask as you lay back down on the bed and take a moment to stretch your limbs. 

“Wet,” he’s grinning, you can tell, “it’s raining.” 

“It always rains in New York, big guy. You leaving tonight?”

The silence on the other end of the line confirms it; Steve leaves for another mission tonight. You’re used to it by now, but worrying about his safety sucks nonetheless, and a lump forms in your throat at the thought of missing him again.

“I was going to ask you what time you get off work. I want to see you before I leave.”

“One, I think.. two if it’s busy. Why?” 

Steve sighs and shifts in his chair, “you know I don’t want you walking home alone at night.” 

“Steve, I’ll be fine. I do it all the time. I’ve lived here my whole life, remember? I’m no stranger to this city.”

“I know you have, but I feel better if I walk you home. I’ll send an agent to pick you up. I have to go now, gotta get ready. I’ll call you tonight to make sure you’re home safe.” 

Before he has a chance to hang up the phone, you interject, “you could teach me self-defense.” 

It’s silent on the other end. For a brief moment, all you can hear is Steve’s quiet breathing and the clinking of coffee cups in the sink. You’ve suggested a self-defense class to him before, but the reply is always the same.

 “We’ll talk about it when I get back, okay? Be safe, peach. I’ll call you.”

  “Fine,” you sigh, “if you don’t wanna teach me, then guess I’ll just sign up somewhere in the city.”

  “Don’t say that,” he groans audibly, “you know why I don’t want to teach you these things.”

  “Steve, you can’t stay by my side every minute of every day. I don’t expect that from you. Nobody does. If something happens while you’re away, I need to be able to defend myself, and let’s face it, nobody is better at this than you.”

  “I know,” he admits finally, “I just don’t want you to get involved in any of this stuff.”

  “I’m not. I just want to be able to protect myself. Promise you’ll think about it?”

  “Okay,” he says finally, “I promise I’ll consider it.”

Two weeks pass after that phone call. Steve gets back from his mission with only a few scrapes and cuts, but all of them heal before he’s even had a chance to see you. He’s glad because he knows you hate seeing him hurt, and you worry too much about him as is. 

The sound of distant thunder outside the walls that currently surround you alerts you that Thor is in town again. Still, the raging storm outside isn’t the reason why you’re shaking in your boots. 

You tug on the sleeves of your t-shirt and straighten the hem, wondering for a moment if you should’ve picked something more... baggy. In this giant room, you feel very exposed. The gym is a lot bigger than you thought it would be. Granted, you’ve never had a reason to come down here before, but knowing Steve spends so much of his spare time here makes you feel only a little bit at ease. 

Steve watches you standing next to the shoulder press machine with your arms crossed when he enters the gym, duffel bag slung over his broad shoulders. He’s carrying two bottles of icy cold water in his hands; one for himself and one for you. He smiles when he sees you’re wearing the Tiffany’s necklace he got you for your birthday, and he can’t help but think you look adorable in your pink t-shirt and ruby work-out leggings. 

“Hey peach,” he greets you with a small peck on your lips, “you ready for this?” 

You nod and smile gently to assure him, but he can tell you’re nervous. A pang of guilt hits him deep in the chest when he eyes you carefully, afraid he’s pushed you too far this time. It’s one thing to expect his civilian girlfriend of one year to wait for him while he’s out kicking ass for sometimes months at a time. Still, it’s another to immerse you into the lifestyle, much less teach you fighting techniques. 

“Born ready, stud,” you respond, sending him a playful wink.

He takes some time to go over general self-defense rules. He tells you to watch your feet, be aware of your attacker’s arms, and to keep your fists as close to your face as possible at all times. He touches your bare skin when he adjusts your posture a few times, and each time his heart twitches because the thought alone of you fighting off a mugger nearly has him losing his fucking mind. 

He’s careful with you when you spar for the first time. Even though he would have absolutely no trouble sending you flying to the mat with only one hand, his touches are feather-light and soft. He allows you to hit him a few times, but he can tell he’s not the only one holding back. Steve wants to take it slow, but the sensical part of his brain knows he can’t teach you anything if he doesn’t apply any brute force.

“Peach,” he breathes after taking a break to think, “I need you to hit me.” 

“What?” you gulp and bite your lip, doe-eyes widening when Steve places his hands on his hips. 

“Is this how you’re going to fend off an attacker? By swatting their hands away from you? By pouting your pretty lips and batting your eyelashes?”

“N..no, but,” you stammer, “I don’t..”

“Come on then,” he urges you to step forward, “take a swing at me. Take me down if you can.” 

You take a deep breath, mustering all the courage you have to swing back your fist. Before it connects with Steve’s jaw, he blocks it, twisting your arm behind your back until you’re facing away from him.

The sensical part of your brain quickly realizes you’re never going to win a fair fight, not against Captain America. Then again, you muse, he never told you you can’t fight dirty.

You think quickly, taking only a few seconds to concoct a plan that would make even Natasha proud if she saw it unfold before her eyes. Steve’s already tense, you can tell by how his jaw is clenched tight, and his grip on your arm is firm.

“That all you got, peach?”

He breathes down your neck, causing goosebumps to rise along your heated skin. In a desperate attempt to prove him wrong, you hook your leg under his and bend forward, trying your hardest to pull him down to the ground. Your ponytail flies in his face, allowing him to take in the scent of your shampoo while his rough, calloused palms find their way around your waist to steady you on the mat. Suddenly, you can feel it, pressing up against your lower back. You smirk for a split second, afraid he might see and realize what you’re trying to do, before pursing your lips again into a thin line.

Steve momentarily forgets what he’s doing when he feels you arch your back. His mind trails off, away from the objective of staying upright in position. You turn your head slightly sideways, hot breath fanning against his exposed neck in another attempt to distract him.

You sigh audibly when Steve’s lips press firmly against your throat, lips parting when the feeling of Steve’s muscles pressed tightly against your back becomes a sensation you’re both hyper-aware of. His t-shirt is thin. You can feel every ripple of muscle underneath the tight fabric that is stretched so thin you wonder how the fuck it hasn’t ripped.

The hammering of his heart and the rapid rise and fall of his chest causes your own heartbeat to speed up. In a final attempt to take him out, you once again shove him, sending all your weight into his trembling body. With a loud grunt, Steve loses his balance. His grip on your hips tightens when he allows himself to fall down onto the mat, taking you down with him in the process. The two of you wrestle for a moment. Still, Steve finds himself on top of you before you can protest, left hand tightly gripping both of your wrists while the other gently brushes a strand of loose hair from your forehead.

He leans down, lips ghosting your collar bones and neck before settling on your earlobe. You turn your head, but Steve grabs your chin with his free hand. Your entire body tenses up when his voice coats your skin in more goosebumps, and you wiggle against his iron grip when he whispers in your ear.

“Do you think this is fair?” he mutters, “wearing these tight leggings in front of me. You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

Your pupils dilate, eyes darkening at the deliciously deep grumble in his voice.

“No,” you lie, “I swear.”

He’s needy. You can tell by the way he’s subconsciously grinding his hips into yours. You can feel every inch of his cock through his sweatpants through the thin material of your leggings, and the sheer size of it nearly sends you over the edge then and there.

Steve roughly kisses your lips. Teeth and tongues mash together harshly for the first time in over two weeks. He doesn’t usually kiss you like this. Still, you welcome it, lifting your head off the mat instead into a bruising competition of lips.

Your eyes glance towards the door, and you push against Steve’s heaving chest. He’s already grabbing for the hem of your t-shirt, warm fingers grazing your bare skin when you build up the courage to stop him.

“Wait,” you say, pulling away just as Steve’s hand glides underneath your top, “here?”

“I’m gonna take you right here, peach,” he says while groping your left breast and fondling with your nipple, “right on this mat.”

“What if someone comes in?” you ask, back arching when Steve’s lips once again latch onto your neck.

The warm, wet sensation of his mouth against the most delicate spot on your bare neck has your mind drawing a blank. Suddenly, you can’t remember why you even questioned him. Who the fuck cares if someone walks in, anyway?

“Fuck it,” you reply to your own question, “want you, Steve.”

His hand releases your wrists, allowing you to reach down to the hem of your top. You rip it over your head in one swift motion and toss it next to you, followed by your sports bra. Your tits spring free, bounce in his face. The moment the fabric lifts over your head, Steve’s mouth is on your already tweaked nipple, licking and sucking it how you like it best while you wiggle your way out of your leggings.

“Leave them on,” he orders, grabbing hold of the smooth fabric before you can pull them down all the way.

With your leggings and dampened panties stuck around your knees, your movement is limited. You struggle to open your legs when Steve’s fingers run along your wet folds and groan in frustration when he dips two fingers into your throbbing pussy.

You yelp when he takes his fingers out again and softly slaps your cunt twice with the palm of his hand. He takes his fingers and pushes them into your mouth, chest swelling when he realizes he doesn’t have to tell you to suck on them because you do it instantly.

Three fingers disappear into your pussy now, coated in your saliva and sweet, delicious juices.

“You’re so wet already,” he comments before claiming your mouth with his again so he can taste you on your own tongue, “tell me what you want.”

“I want,” you gasp when he curls his stroking fingers, “your dick inside of me, Steve.”

Your fingers grab at his sweatpants. You yank down the soft, grey material that separates his flesh from you until it falls past his hips and under his toned ass. Steve’s cock, fiery red at the tip and hard like granite, springs free from its confinement and twitches when you allow your fingertips to graze its entire length slowly up and down. Steve bites his lip and holds his tongue to stop himself from cursing, but a small fuck escapes his throat when you fist his dick and guide the tip to your entrance.

“Put it in,” he commands through clenched teeth.

You don’t waste time giving Steve what he desires. After quickly wetting his cock with your slick, you plunge it inside of yourself with a fiery need. A sinful moan escapes your pink, swollen lips, and Steve presses another hard kiss to your open mouth when your hands grab hold of his ass.

He thrusts slowly at first to get your walls stretched nicely around him. No matter how many times the two of you have sex, it always feels like the first time, tight and warm, and oh so delicious. His dick pulsates when he picks up the speed, relishing in the feeling of your fingernails digging painfully into the plump skin of his perfectly round ass.

“You like that, peach?” he locks his hand around your throat, “like it when I fuck you like this?”

“Y-yes,” you manage when he begins to squeeze, “feels so good, Steve.”

“Anyone can walk in and see you like this,” he moans, “you like that, don’t you?”

You arch your back into his chest, eyes screwing shut at the feeling of his weight nearly crushing you. When he reaches down to rub your clit, you almost lose your fucking mind, and he has to bury his head between your tits to stop himself from cumming before you do.

Your bodies are beginning to stick together. The scent of sex is now heavy in the air. If anyone enters the gym looking for a late-night run, they’ll find something they can never unsee—the unmistakable thrill of getting caught red-handed drives both of you nearly over the edge. However, at this point, neither of you can stop if that were to happen. Nothing exists except for the sound of rough breathing, explicit moaning, and skin slapping against skin.

Every sense in Steve’s body is on high alert. He can feel it every time your walls flutter around his aching cock. You can feel it too. His weight on top of you feels amazing. The soft, blonde hair that grazes your neck while his tongue swirls around your nipple feels even better. The sheen of sweat that drips from his chest onto you, you want nothing more. You never want this feeling to end.

“You gonna cum for me, peachy?” he mumbles against your bare skin.

You whine at the knowledge it will end because you feel the coil inside of your underbelly is close to snapping. His thrusts become sloppier, less consistent, and it feels as if he does deeper and deeper with every snap of his hips. There are marks on his ass from where your nails dug into the delicate skin, but it’ll heal quickly.

Your cheeks are red with heat when you cum, lips deliciously parted, and eliciting the most beautiful moans Steve has ever heard. Your entire body vibrates when the orgasm flows through you, breasts glistening with sweat as they bounce while Steve fucks you through it. He fucks you, continues to fuck you until his own orgasm rips through him. Hot spurts of cum cover your insides, and he nearly collapses on top of you, barely careful enough not to actually crush you with his bodyweight.

He stays inside of you for a moment while both of you catch your breath. After he pulls out, he hoists his sweatpants back up over his hips. He kisses you softly while he pulls up your leggings. They snap against your skin when they reach your waist, and he grabs your hand to pull you up off the floor. His cum is still inside of you, dripping into your underwear when you take his hand and follow him out of the gym.

It’s fine, you think, I’ll learn self-defense some other time.    

[twiceinadream]

“Trust me.”

Requested: Yup

Request: Dahyun and reader have been best friends for as long as the both of them can remember. When Valentine's Day is nearing but Dahyun's date bails on her at the last minute, reader offers to be the one spending Valentine's Day with Dahyun instead(maybe because there was already so much planned/prepared or something, also to cheer Dahyun up). At the end of the day, Dahyun admits that she'd much rather spend any and every day with reader than with a guy, and in the heat of the moment, reader confesses that she's been in love with Dahyun for forever

a/u: Hey, guys! So I’m back and I hope you enjoy the first fic of my Valentine’s Day prompts along with my first Dahyun fic. I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you all like it too. I love you guys!

Background: “The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” (In Japanese, is a way of saying “I love you” or expressing your love) and you respond with, “I can die happy.” (If this is wrong, I’m sorry in advance I learned everything off Google)

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 3.1k

The cool spring breeze blew the scent of fresh flowers and fried food throughout the market as you and Dahyun walked by the various stalls. And by the look of all the roses and pink hearts you could definitely sense the love in the air since Valentine’s Day was tomorrow after all and just like before, you would be spending it alone. However your best friend wouldn’t be joining you this year like in the past when the both of you would watch cheesy rom-coms and gorge on overpriced chocolates. She had been asked on a date and you were equal parts excited and annoyed.

You loved Dahyun and wished her nothing but happiness, but the thought of really spending the “day of love” alone in your apartment stung a bit. That’s when you felt a poke at your shoulder before turning to face the brunette, “What's wrong?”

You raised an eyebrow to feign confusion, “What do you mean?”

She frowned, looking you in the eyes as she looked you over, “Don’t play stupid with me Y/N, I know you too well for that.” You shrugged as you turned away from her, not wanting to answer her question when you felt her grab your sleeve; stopping you in your tracks.

“It’s nothing really, so please drop it.” You gave her the best smile you could muster as you felt your heart seize in your chest, looking at the way she wanted to help you but you continued pushing her away. Clearing your throat to change the subject as you continued walking, “So...what do you and your date have planned for tomorrow?” At the question you could instantly see the way your best friend’s mood perked up as a wide smile spread over her lips as you felt your heart drop in your stomach, ‘And I thought I was the only one who could make her smile like that.’

But you quickly steeled your emotions as you tilted your head towards the brunette to talk, “We’re gonna go to an art museum, then go check out a traditional Japanese garden, then go to dinner at some fancy restaurant they really like.” At the list of activities she had planned with her date you couldn’t help but wonder if she was more excited about the date itself or the fact she wouldn’t be single for Valentine’s, because for the entirety of the lifetime you had known Dahyun she didn’t really like any of those things.

You pursed your lips as you looked up to the sky, “Sounds fun, Dahyunnie.” A cool breeze blew across your face as you inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the pounding in your head as you tried to calculate how much ice cream could mend your breaking heart, “I hope you have fun with them.”

—

-The Next Morning-

It was a nearly perfect spring morning, the sun was barely peeking over the tops of the buildings as the sky remained a beautiful blue, free of any stray clouds. It seemed just a little too perfect.

But, that was none of your concern as you cuddled into your comforter, content on just staying in bed till the afternoon before moving to your living room to binge on every rom-com Hollywood had ever produced along with a tub of ice cream and takeout for dinner.

You face-planted into your pillow as you groaned at your own plan, “God, I'm single.” But your small pity-party didn’t last for much longer as your phone suddenly began ringing, you reached blindly onto your nightstand not even bothering to see who was calling as you answered, “Hello?”

The sound of crying met your ears as your eyebrows knitted in confusion pulling your phone away from your ear to look at the caller ID. Your eyes immediately widen at the name, “Dahyun?”

“Y/N?” Her voice sounded broken and shaky - you could tell she’s been crying and it broke your heart that she hadn’t called you sooner - she sniffed hard, “They canceled, they said they found another girl to go out with. I saw the text this morning.”

You gritted your teeth, not wanting any creative insults to slip from your mouth as you were already getting out of bed, “That bastard, I’ll be over in fifteen.” Dahyun hummed into the phone as you hung up. Standing in front of your closet as you grabbed a comfortable pair of jeans and a soft sweatshirt Dahyun had given to you for your birthday that you knew she loved to borrow - steal - from you. Before moving to the bathroom to brush your teeth and touch up on your appearance before heading to the door to slip on a pair of sensible shoes before walking out of your apartment and locking the door. Dead set on giving your best friend the best Valentine’s Day of her life.

—

-Dahyun’s Place-

True to your word you had arrived at your best friend’s apartment in a little under fifteen minutes as you used the spare key she had given you to enter the home. Quickly kicking off your shoes by the door as you made your way down the hall to her bedroom, sighing as you lifted a fist to knock. Immediately after your knuckles hit the wood Dahyun was already beckoning you inside, “Come in!”

You could tell she was still crying by the crack her voice made when she yelled, a sad smile painting your features as you entered the room. Noticing how the brunette looked smaller than usual swaddled in blankets and a sweatshirt, stray tissues littering her bed as you could see that her eyes were red and puffy. You quickly sat on the bed beside her and waited for Dahyun to either climb into your arms or not, not wanting to force any physical affection on her. To your slight relief she quickly made her way into your arms, sitting between your legs as she leaned into your hold. Both of you sitting in silence as you rocked the two of you slightly, her tears eventually subsiding as she let out a deep breath. “Th..thanks for coming.”

She pulled away from your grasp to look at you directly as you smiled at her crookedly, “Of course. I would rather spend my morning comforting my best friend than going to jail for manslaughter, I always have time for that later.” Dahyun laughed wetly as she hit your shoulder, you grabbed it in mock pain as you pouted, “Wow, Dahyun-ah, I come here to make you feel better and you wound me.”

The brunette rolled her eyes as she turned around to tackle you to the bed, “Crybaby.” You raised an eyebrow as you rolled the two of you over.

“You’re one to talk.” Dahyun stuck her tongue out and for a second you almost kissed her, almost. You noticed your staring had gone for a little too long as you released her from beneath, clearing your throat as you sat back against her headboard. “So, any plans for the rest of the day?”

Your best friend deadpanned, “I just got dumped Y/N. What do you think?” You held up your hands in surrender.

“Sorry, sorry. Token single person here, but is there anything in particular you were thinking of doing?” Dahyun shrugged as she played with the corner of her pillow.

“I don’t know, I was really excited to go out today. I even bought a new outfit for the occasion, but I guess we just stay in and watch movies.” You could hear the dejection in her voice as you stood from the bed, looking from her to the outfit hanging by the bathroom.

“I have an idea, but I need you to get ready.” Dahyun looked at you questioningly.

“Why?” You smiled brightly as you pulled out your phone.

“Because. I’m gonna give you the best Valentine’s date of your life.” The brunette seemed unconvinced as you moved to physically drag her out of bed and shove her towards the bathroom, “Trust me.”

Dahyun shrugged, as she began closing the bathroom door. Shaking her head to herself, “Why not, I’ve got nothing to lose.”

A grin broke out across your face as you left the room, doing a small victory dance in the hallway as you let out a giddy laugh, ‘Yes!’ You cheered to yourself as you settled down on the couch to research a place to end the night, smiling as you read that there was going to be fireworks later and you had a perfect place in mind to watch them.

—

It took Dahyun an additional half hour before she was finally ready and you were starting to think she had climbed out her bathroom window to ditch you. But the sound of her bedroom door opening quelled your fears as you stood from the sofa, smoothing down your outfit as she rounded the corner. Your jaw dropping as you saw her.

Her hair was done up in a bun, she wore a brown cable knit sweater, and a flowy beige skirt. She laughed at your reaction as a light blush dusted your cheeks as she twirled, the skirt lifting around her ankles as she smiled at you, “How do I look?”

You were at a loss for words as you opened and closed your mouth like a goldfish before finally being able to form a coherent word, “Stunning.”

Dahyun laughed lightly as she walked past you to the door, “Well, are you just going to stand there or are you going to give me the ‘best Valentine’s date of your life’?”

You quickly followed after her as she threw you words back in your face, leaving the apartment as you both stepped out onto the street, “You bet I am.”

—

The two of you sat in comfortable silence as you drove, the radio playing quietly as the new song by 3Mix played in the background. You couldn’t help but smile as you kept stealing glances of Dahyun beside you, your long time crush and best friend looked beautiful and you just couldn’t help but keep looking as you pulled up to a market. It was busier than it normally was with most people spending the day out with their significant other, leaving the place more packed as you opened the passenger for Dahyun to get out.

A teasing smile on her lips as she slung her bag back over her shoulder as you both entered the street market. Couples walking all around you as Dahyun threaded her arm through yours, holding onto you as you weaved through the crowd to her favorite tteokbokki stall, it was farther back in the market leaving it less busy than the ones near the front as you both went up to the counter to order. The old man working the stall immediately recognized the both of you as he smiled, “Same as always?” You both nodded as he scooped the rice cakes and sauce onto a plate, noticing Dahyun’s arms wrapped around yours, “I didn’t know you were two dating.” He said fondly as you handed him the money, shaking your head.

“Oh um, we’re just friends.” You said shyly as he apologized immediately.

“I’m so sorry, you two just look good together.” You and Dahyun just blushed as you thanked him before moving to sit.

The brunette dug in immediately as you watched her eat, “Do we really look like a couple?”

Dahyun looked up from her plate, “I mean, it’s Valentine’s and we’re out together Y/N, of course we look like a couple.”

The amount of sarcasm in her voice made you roll your eyes playfully, “Seems like Cupid got his arrow stuck somewhere other than your heart.”

Your best friend let out a scandalized gasp as she reached over the table to hit your head, “L/N Y/N!” You cackled loudly as you avoided her attempts to hit you, as you stuck your tongue out.

From behind the counter the old man watched the two of you from the corner of his eye, ‘And they’re so convinced they’re ‘not dating’.”

—

When the two of you finished you thanked the man one more time as you returned the plates, before walking to the main portion of the market that seemed busier than when you had arrived. Neither of you wanted to enter the fray until you got a whiff of the smell of freshly made hotteok hitting your nose. Did you grab hold of Dahyun’s hand and rush in the direction of the smell.

Smiling like a little kid as you located the stall and quickly got into line behind a few couples, waiting for a few minutes before you and Dahyun made it to the front. A lady in her mid-40s greeted the two of you as you placed your order, “Hi, can I get two honey hotteok please.” You gave the woman a small smile as Dahyun leaned her head against your shoulder, watching as the lady began making the fried pancakes on a griddle beside her.

It didn’t take long for the batter to cook as she wrapped in paper and handed it to the both of you, “That’ll be ₩2,000 please. And I have to say, you two make a very cute couple.”

Before you could open your mouth, Dahyun was already handing her the money, “Thank you, have a nice evening.” You looked at the brunette in confusion as she shrugged, handing you your pancake.

“It’s easier to just say, ‘thank you’. They stop asking questions or looking at us like we’re weird.” You shrugged as the two of you made it back to your car, noticing the setting sun as the sky was a mix of yellow and orange.

“Hey,” You looked over to Dahyun to catch her attention, “I have one more place I want to go if you don’t mind.”

The brunette shook her head, “Of course I don’t mind, you’re the one planning the date after all. I’m just enjoying the ride.” She added a wink at the end that made your heart flutter as you pulled out onto the street.

“You should probably nap, it’s a bit of a drive.”

—

Getting through the city during rush hour was a nightmare and a half that you had forgotten to account for as it took an additional hour to finally make it out towards the mountains that surrounded Seoul. The road up was filled with soft curves that eventually woke Dahyun as she noticed that the two of you had left the city and were heading up, the sky was beginning to darken as the moon began making its presence known.

You continued driving past the usual lookouts till you turned onto a dirt path, a questioning look on the brunette’s face, “Where are we going?”

It was now your turn to deadpan Dahyun, “Just trust me, okay?” Your best friend shrugged as she sat back in her seat, looking out the window till you stopped the car. “We need to hike a bit.”

The unkempt grass brushed against yours and Dahyun’s ankles as you navigate your way through the overgrown foliage. Along the way the brunette’s hand found yours as you helped her down the steep path till you came to an open cliff that gave a perfect outlook to the skyline of Seoul. Night had blanked the sky as stars glittered against the dark, a look of awe on the Korean girl’s face as she couldn’t believe her eyes. She had lived her entire life here and she had never seen the city as beautiful as it looked now.

You couldn’t help but smirk as you noticed the lost look in your crush’s eyes, “Beautiful isn’t it.”

Dahyun nodded as she tore her eyes away from the lights to look at you, “I didn’t even know this place existed, thank you for taking me here.” The brunette’s eyes softened as she felt something in her change as she looked at you, a feeling she never felt before. “But I have to ask, why are we…”

Before she could ask, the sound of an explosion sounded as you both turned to see the remains of fireworks. Her eyes widened as more lit up the sky, the sound of the explosions barely reaching your ears as she watched the show. Vibrant colors danced across the night sky as she continued to stare, “Beautiful.”

Your eyes had left the sky long ago as your gaze was focused solely on Dahyun, a wistful look on your face, “More than.”

It didn’t take the brunette long to have the feeling she was being stared at as she looked away from the fireworks. She quirked an eyebrow as she took in your expression, “You okay, Y/N-ah?” You shook your head as you blinked, clearing your throat as you quickly turned to look back to the sky, looking at the moon as you remembered a saying yours and Dahyun’s friend Sana had once said, “The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” At the sudden Japanese leaving your mouth it Dahyun took a moment to decipher what you had just said, when the saying clicked as you looked back at her.

A small smile forming on her lips as she understood what you were telling her before she answered you back in Japanese, “I can die happy.”

In that moment it felt as though the whole world was silent, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears was the only noise that seemed to exist as you and Dahyun stared at each other. A mutual feeling seemed to pass between the both of you as you moved in closer, her hand reaching out to cup your cheek ever so gently as you leaned in slowly. Your hands finding her hips as you pulled her forward slightly as she met you halfway, your lips meeting hers in a soft kiss as your eyes fluttered close. Your heart did a somersault in your chest as the world seemed to resume around you again as the sound of the grand finale of the firework show exploded behind the two of you.

A light laugh leaving your lips as you pulled away to breathe, your foreheads resting against each other as you held your girlfriend(?) closer. A cocky smile on your face as you rubbed your thumb along her cheek, “So. Was this the best Valentine’s date of your life?”

The Korean girl couldn’t help but laugh at your question as she shrugged, “Eh, it was okay.” You felt your smile quickly fade as the brunette giggled at the look on your face, “Maybe you’ll do better for me next year...Jagiya.”

[wing-ed-thing]

Fraternizing and Spineless (Kabuto x Reader, FINALE)

Synopsis: Kabuto has a fixation and you sometimes apologize to inanimate objects. Ever since one fateful day, you’ve been drawn to each other from opposite sides of the battlefield.

Word Count: 3,169

Warnings/Tags: Angst, Language Probably, Canon Divergence, Alcohol, Implied Torture, Espionage, Fem!Reader @tiktoktheclockisticking​

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Finale

Notes: I can’t believe it’s over. Damn... okay.

Kabuto sat at the bar. He fiddled with the neck of his near-empty bottle.

You hadn’t been home for about three days.

Even in a village full of trained shinobi, no one seemed to notice him. But with all his years in espionage, Kabuto would be surprised if anyone did. The bartender came over, motioning to take the glassware, but Kabuto held up a hand with the shake of his head. The bottle stayed. He originally intended for the bottle to be more of a prop than an actual drink, but the more he asked about you and the more people didn’t seem to know, the less decorative the liquid became. No one seemed to know your name and if they did, they certainly didn’t acknowledge it. Kabuto only heard the same story and not much more: that a terror attack was carried out on the Leaf by the Sound. While Orochimaru did send men after you, Kabuto saw that crater with his own eyes. He knew two things for sure: your chakra signature and that the Leaf was trying to cover it up. Kabuto took a deep breath, assuring himself that he just hadn’t found the right person to talk to yet.

“That was a pretty deep sigh there.” Kabuto turned to his right. The man next to him leaned on his elbows, slightly hunched over the counter. A few wisps of hair fell from his high ponytail. He took a sip of his drink, nose scrunching at the strength. The scar across his face flexed with his red-tinted cheeks. The man met Kabuto’s gaze. He motioned to Kabuto’s, unknown to him, stolen vest. “Are they working you Jounin as hard as I’ve heard?” Kabuto faked a slight laugh.

“Oh yes they are,” he answered, bobbing his head a few times. Kabuto fully intended on leaving the conversation there, but he took a momentary pause and studied the man out of the corner of his eye. Kabuto bit the inside of his lip before turning fully on his stool to offer his hand to the stranger. “Asai Takehiko,” he lied. The man grabbed his hand without a moment of hesitation.

“Umino Iruka.” The Leaf ninja introduced himself before downing the rest of his drink before waving the bartender over for another. Iruka motioned towards Kabuto. “I’ve never seen you around.”

“I graduated to Jounin recently. You know how it is with new meat on the battlefield. I suppose being thrown in at the deep end is one way to gain experience.” Iruka chuckled.

“So you must not have been home for a while then. I’ll cheers to that.” He lifted his glass and Kabuto fingers wrapped around the neck of his own bottle. The glasses clinked together. Kabuto held his to his lips, pretending to take a sip as he studied the dwindling liquid of Iruka’s cup. After a few seconds, Iruka came up for air. “Not taking the Jounin exam is definitely something I don’t regret.” Kabuto quirked an eyebrow.

“What are they having you do?”

“I teach.” Kabuto’s eyes flickered in amusement. He restrained the corners of his lips from turning upward, covering his mouth with one hand in order to not give himself away.

“You teach? I’m assuming at the Academy?” Iruka nodded and Kabuto snorted, hitting Iruka playfully on the arm. “You work with kids and you’re day drinking on a weekday?” The mocking tone translated nicely into playfulness.

“It’s been that kind of week, my friend.” Iruka’s smile faltered, his gaze focused on blank space as he seemed to recall a particularly bitter memory. Kabuto’s expression narrowed. He had a hunch, but he wasn’t about to reveal his hand yet. Perhaps luck shone down on him after all. Kabuto took another swig from his drink with a casual shrug.

“I think everyone’s been kinda on edge. You know, with what happened. An attack in the middle of the village is some real scary stuff.” Iruka pursed his lips, a subtle display of body language that was not lost on Kabuto. He went on. “You know, just being a new rank in this line of work. I have family around where it happened. I’m afraid that I won’t be there to protect them if something like this happens again.” Iruka shook his head.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said with a fair amount of hesitation. He gulped, running a palm across his face. “With all the precautions being taken by the Hokage I’m sure that it won’t happen again any time soon.” Kabuto crossed his legs and tilted his head.

“You seem to have more information than I do. And you seem pretty upset.” Iruka let out a bitter huff.

“Yeah, I think that’s an understatement.” Kabuto paused, giving time for his victim to marinate in his thoughts before he probed further. Iruka’s chest puffed out as he filled his lungs with air. Another heavy huff. “It’s all just… very confusing and conflicting and I haven’t been able to get proper sleep for a while because for some weird reason I feel responsible.” Iruka didn’t bat an eye at his own confession or at the fact that he was venting to a stranger. Kabuto’s interest, however, was piqued.

“Responsible, huh?” He put a hand on Iruka’s shoulder and pointed a finger at his chest with the other. “You sound like you’re being way too hard on yourself.”

“I wish I was.” Yet another sigh from Iruka. “I really do…” Kabuto frowned, faux confusion washing over his features.

“It was the Sound Village, my man. I think you’ve had one too many to be thinking that kinda stuff.” Iruka hesitated as he looked around wildly. The bar had, for the most part, cleared out to leave Kabuto, Iruka, and a single stranger at the very end of the bar. The bartender had stepped out at some point during their conversation. Iruka leaned in a bit closer.

“Okay, you promise that this stays between you and me?” Kabuto inwardly celebrated his victory but kept his expression concerned and humble. Demeanor sympathetic, he nodded. Iruka looked around again before whispering, “The Hidden Sound didn’t attack the Leaf. At least not directly.” Kabuto blinked, mouth agape in faux surprise.

“What does that mean?” He started to grow just the slightest bit impatient, but Kabuto reminded himself that after days of information gathering, he had struck gold. He was going to find you, no matter what it took.

“It means that the Hokage is investigating one of our own for conspiracy and treason.” Kabuto covered his mouth before letting his wrist fall back onto his lap.

“No. Conspiracy against the village?” Kabuto couldn’t help the slightest bit of guilt gnaw at him. Maybe he hadn’t been as careful visiting you as he thought he had been, but for the moment he pushed those thoughts from his mind. He tilted his head towards the ceiling, eyes moving back and forth in pretend thought. “This wouldn’t be a friend of yours would it?” Kabuto met Iruka’s surprised eyes.

“How did you know?” Iruka’s guard was officially down. Kabuto offered a friendly smile.

“Well because you’re so distraught! Anyone could take a guess. Have you at least gotten a chance to talk to her?” Iruka recognized something off about his new friend’s statement, but he couldn’t pinpoint it in his intoxication. He nodded, describing the journey to your cell and your painful conversation.

But Kabuto didn’t care much for the bit about your conversation. Rather, he sat in quiet, victorious awe as the building you were in and the floor number slipped from Iruka’s lips. In the end, that’s all he would need. Iruka, at least at the moment, didn’t suspect a thing.

***

The blood remained smeared across your skin despite your injuries healing hours before. The Leaf had gotten creative.

You were certain that Iruka didn’t believe your story, so you were confident that the Torture and Interrigation Force didn’t either. Even if it was the truth. You steadied yourself and slowly leaned back to lay down on your cot. In spite of your closed wounds, your muscles stretched in soreness. You shifted to one side, spine cracking along your back. The taste of your own blood lingered in your mouth.

The moon shone through the sliver of a window near the ceiling of your cell. Looking up, you couldn’t help but wonder what Kabuto was doing. You wondered if he was looking for you. You cringed at the memory of your last conversation. The night where you practically threw yourself at him in desperation, spouting feelings that perhaps should have gone unspoken. Maybe Iruka was right. Maybe you really weren’t making any sense. You sighed aloud to yourself. Yeah, you sure scared him off alright.

You let your eyes flutter shut. You hadn’t been allowed to enjoy a full night of sleep and you knew that it would only be a matter of time before someone came to drag you away again. You didn’t suppose that many fraternized with Sound ninja just for the companionship. The Leaf expected a grander plot. Part of you considered making up a lie, that maybe you’d be let go if you told them what they wanted to hear, but you knew no matter what you said you’d be stuck. Your breathing slowed quickly and for once since you had been locked up, a semblance of peace overcame you.

By the time you heard the door open, you didn’t even know whether or not you had actually had any time to rest. You were still exhausted, but the moment you heard the tinkering of keys at your cell door you bolted straight up. Out of it, you didn’t even register standing until after the fact. Two shinobi entered your confines. You could hardly muster a coherent thought and you certainly couldn’t process the body of the unconscious guard that fell at your feet.

“You weren’t away that long that you forgot about me, were you, dear?”

You dragged your eyes up, heart beating faster and faster. Kabuto stood before you. He still held his kunai. The Konoha Jounin uniform fit him nicely, a vision of what might have been in another world. He grinned ear to ear, smug smirk plastered onto his lips. Your eyes widened. Without a moment's hesitation, you went to him and he accepted you with open arms. His weapon clattered to the floor. Your lips crashed into one another’s like waves on the shore. Kabuto held you close. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and your fingers tangled in his hair. Kabuto’s stolen hitai-ate fell down around his eyes. He pushed it back up and you both parted. He was there, right there under your fingertips. You couldn’t stop shaking. You buried your face in his shoulder and he caressed the back of your head. Hot tears ran down your cheeks and down his vest. You didn’t even realize that you were crying.

“I wasn’t that bad, was I? I know this wasn’t really my style, but they’re really stingy with the keys around here.” And Kabuto laughed, blinking back the drops that threatened to spill over his own waterline. He wasn’t ever one to cry and he’d be damned if he looked like anything less than a hero during your rescue. You snickered with him and clenched your eyes shut, further staining your cheeks. The side of your face melted into his palm and Kabuto leaned his forehead against yours.

“You came back for me,” You breathed, inhaling his familiar scent. He smelled like the village, something akin to mornings in the forest. “H-h-how, how did you? What did, did you?” You could hardly find the words. Kabuto grasped your hand.

“Doesn’t matter.” He breathed in. He wasn’t too late.

***

Konoha, despite its strength, was in many ways a dated nation. The alarm bells didn’t even begin to ring until you and Kabuto were half way across town. You had to hurry. Leaf shinobi acted quickly and every second a new set of peering eyes were being awakened from their beds.

You followed Kabuto closely. You didn’t get to ask any questions, you didn’t have time. All that you knew for sure is that Kabuto, once again, came to your rescue. What that meant, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t about to question it.

Kabuto stopped in front of you and knelt down.

“You go ahead.” You became very aware of the bags under your eyes and the bolt of adrenaline in your veins. He began to unpack a few items from his equipment, attaching paper bombs to kunai and preparing traps that you couldn’t process properly in your tired haze.

“What are you going to do?” The corners of Kabuto’s lips tugged into a sly grin. He took a bit too much pleasure in moments like these. Nimble fingers pulled knots tightly. By the time he rose back up again, he could’ve easily been mistaken for a walking arsonal.

“Buy us a little more time… and little insurance,” he said, not even bothering to hide the glee in his eyes, “It’s a straight shot from here. You know where to meet me. Wait for me there.” As he turned away you grasped onto his sleeve.

“Wait,” You gulped, casting your eyes downward with hot cheeks. Kabuto let out an amused scoff before leaning to plant a quick kiss on your lips.

“As much as I appreciate the concern, we’re getting low on time, dear.” He dragged a finger across the outline of your ear, tucking a few strands on hair back. “I’ve got this handled. Go, I’ll be there before you even know I’m gone.”

And with one last squeeze of his wrist, he went. You let out a shaky breath before facing the opposite direction. You had started to build up some nerve a while ago. It was recent, but nonetheless you’ve started… so you supposed you shouldn’t stop now. Jumping from your place, you began running across the rooftops. Your eyes locked onto the forest. You sped to your top speed, darting into the woods. Free. The branches and leaves blurred together as you continued on. You took a sharp inhale. You knew that you wouldn’t be back here anytime soon.

You ran until the exhaustion caught up with you. Your back felt drenched with sweat, you stopped at a small clearing among the trees. Leaning up against the bark, you forced air into your lungs in an attempt to sate the burning within them. Your head pounded as fatigue gripped your muscles. The meeting spot wasn’t too far ahead. An often overlooked piece of the forest, you were sure that no one would find you here.

A rustling came from nearby.

“You know, when you said that you’d be back before I knew you were gone I didn’t think you’d be back that…” You trailed off. The man that stood in front of you was not Kabuto, but Iruka. He wore half civilian clothes. The scar on his face and his hitai-ate were the only articles that could have truly signified that he was a shinobi. His determined eyes met yours unyieldingly as he panted from his travel. You were in no shape to fight him. “How did you find me?”

“You’re leaving,” he noted, exasperated. His eyes were opened slightly wider than usual. Perhaps even he didn’t know what he was seeing. The trees rustled above you. Quiet overtook the landscape. It was only you and Iruka. “This was the only direction you could have taken and not have gotten caught. Direct path from the compound...”

“Yeah,” You answered, heart beating rapidly in your chest. “I…” Your features softened. Your shoulders slumped and you let out a heavy sigh. Iruka remained silent. “You know I can’t stay here. I-I can’t just stay locked up like that.” He hung his head, arms coming to cross in front of his chest. He nodded, bobbing his head a few times. Iruka’s hand came to run through his hair.

“I… I know.” He pursed his lips, stammering over his words. “You didn’t, uh…”

“I didn’t kill anyone.” You defended yourself quickly. A shiver worked its way down your spine. “Anyone else I should say.” You mirrored him and crossed your arms.

A pause. Iruka could have taken you in, but something told you that he wasn’t going to.

“I’m sorry for not having more faith in you. I’m sorry if I could have done something to prevent all of this.” The honesty in his admission shot straight to your heart. You weren’t leaving behind a lot that you would miss in the Leaf, but Iruka was most definitely one of them.

“This was inevitable. You… thought what anyone would think. I can’t blame you for that.” You gestured to yourself. “I’m sorry for what I said and I just want you to know that I’ve always appreciated our friendship.”

“No,” Iruka waved a hand before it returned back to the crook of his elbow. “I—”

“Why don’t you tell me next time?” Iruka’s gaze snapped up to meet yours. You shrugged with a smile. “There’s a lot to talk about. A lot to apologize for. Let’s just… save it for the next time we see each other. Because you’re not losing me for good. We’ll just… catch up a lot later than we meant to.” Iruka’s expression melted into something resembling sentiment.

“Yeah. For sure. We’ll catch up later.” You approached him and you enveloped each other in a sweaty hug. You took him in, the last of your life in Konohagakure. He rested his chin on your head. “He better treat you right.”

“He will. He does. You don’t have to worry about that.” You parted, Iruka’s hands remained on your shoulders. A rustling came from behind you and both of you turned to look as Kabuto appeared at the other end of the small clearing. He had two bags slung over his shoulders. He gave a respectful nod towards Iruka who gave a small wave back.

“Umino Iruka, nice seeing you again.” Iruka pointed a finger towards the rogue ninja with playfulness in his voice.

“You, sir, are a menace to spies everywhere.” Kabuto cracked a smile with a snort.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

And with one last contrite look, you and Iruka parted ways. He jumped out into the wilderness and you turned to Kabuto. Leaflitter crunched under your feet as you made your way over. You wrapped your arms around him. He murmured a few sweet words into your ear and your lips brushed against his cheek.

“So where are we going?” You asked as you took one of the bags with the assumption that it was for you.

“Wherever you’d like to go.” Kabuto’s fingers laced between yours. “I don’t know. I don’t have a plan from here if you’d believe that, my dear.” You gave his hand a squeeze.

“Perfect.”

Notes: Does anyone else smell a sequel series ‘cause, uh, I left things very open for a reason? Like any finale I’d love to hear what you have to say!

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[captains-simp]

Carol Danvers ~ Two Sides Of The Same Coin

Chapter 2: Owe Me

One

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The explosion on your left was far too close for comfort. The shock sent your body hurling forward a few feet with a distinct ringing in your ears. The high pitched sound was all you could focus on for a few precious moments.

When the dust started to settle and the ringing got slightly quieter, you knew you needed to get up. You were vulnerable. And you were outnumbered.

You could handle something like four or five-to-one, but twenty was a little more than you had been prepared for. The fact that they were a heavily armed twenty made it worse. You were pretty sure you had seen Owen's logo on one of those weapons.

You turned onto your side to try to take in your surroundings better but visibility was still limited. The shoulder you had landed on protested against your movements but you were forced ignore it. There was no way you were going to get out of there without using it again.

You groaned as you finally got yourself onto your knees and pushed off of the ground to stand. You were extremely disorientated and unsteady but you continued to look around until you could make out distant shapes amongst the dust.

You shook your head and raised your hands in closed fists infront of you in hopes of it preparing you even a little.

Just as you managed to narrow your focus onto those infront of you, heavy footsteps were heard from behind.

You spun around to meet whoever was charging towards you only to stumble sideways. Much to your luck, the exact moment you moved to the side the attacker had swing his fist and ended up stumbling forward too from having not landed his punch.

You noticed this just in time and managed to swipe his legs out from under him while maintaining your own balance. The victory, no matter how small, made you feel more confident about the situation. Maybe you would be able to get out of there in one piece.

Just as you had that optimistic thought bullets went whizzing by the side of your head. You were grateful for the attacker's terrible aim as you ducked behind a large cluster of debris.

Your gun had been thrown from your grasp in the blast and to get it back you would have to run a few feet away from the safety of your temporary cover. Bullets continued to smack against the debris, the frequency and the amplitude both increasing to warn you they were getting closer.

It would hard - near impossible - to get your gun, shoot every attacker with the few bullets you had and avoid getting seriously injured, but it was that or wait behind the debris for a bullet to finally find you.

Your eyes locked onto your unharmed gun as you sat up gradually. Now or never.

You sprang up from your position and sprinted towards your weapon as the bullets relentlessly followed you. You swiped it in your hand and instantly aimed your gun towards the attackers.

They may have had bigger, much more intimidating guns, and there may have been a lot more of them, but they had no idea what to do with those guns or how to work coherently together. That made it easier for you to hit each target perfectly without a single bullet even skimming you.

But there was only ten of them down. The blast had disorientated you so much you hadn't noticed them scatter to surround you. Panic rose in your chest when you saw the remaining attackers spaced out in the distance.

That same panic was amplified when a small object came hurtling towards you, the small blinking light was enough for you to figure out what it was.

With all the energy you could muster, you put as much distance between you and the explosive device as your legs could give you. Your hands instinctively covered your head when your feet left the ground and the defeaning boom filled your ears.

You expected to feel bullets rain down on you. You expected everything to go completly dark. You expected the worst. Nothing happened.

You glanced up at the nearest attacker, your ears ringing once again, and saw him staring up at the sky. He was looking around frantically. You couldn't really make out his face, but you could tell he was scared.

You couldn't see anything in the sky either, leading you to wonder what they were all trying to look at. That was very quickly answered when something bright dropped down infront of you.

You were dazed for a brief moment until the familiarity of the bright light hit you.

The energy around Carol was far stronger than it was the last couple of times you had a demonstration. It was flowing over her entire body and although you couldn't see her face because her back was turned to you, the confidence and power she emitted was something you couldn't help but be in awe of.

The attackers backed away slightly however this seemingly wasn't enough for Carol. She shot her photon blasts faster than anyone could comprehend or get away from. Swirls of blue, yellow and red light was fired in every direction and it was over so quickly.

When Carol turned around to face you her powers were fading yet the soft glow around her made her look angelic, you would never admit that to her of course.

"You look like you need some help." The blonde smiled knowingly down to you.

"I'm perfectly fine on my own." You defied stubbornly.

"On the floor?" She gave a smug grin as you huffed and got off of the floor. You patted the dust of your clothes and tried to assess your next move while you tried even harder to ignore the hero and the fact she may have just saved your life.

"You could say thank you." The smirk was still present in Carol's voice.

"Are they dead?" You asked, avoiding the statement like the bullets you had just encountered. You walked towards the nearest attacker with Carol close behind.

"Just knocked out." As she said that, the nearest man groaned and tried to sit up. "I guess not all of them." The man startled when he heard Carol's voice and sat bolt upright as he legs kicked out to try and back himself away, it didn't work very well.

"Can we go back to our convosation before you started shooting at me?" You asked as you stood over him.

"I don't know anything." He stammered as he looked between the two of you.

"You're awful defensive for someone who doesn't have anything to hide."

"I've noticed that with a lot of people." Carol added. You didn't object to her presence this time.

"I don't, I swear! We were just told that if anyone came looking for Daexire we had to kill them." The man explained with a pleading look.

You smiled at his answer and nodded slowly, taking a step away from the two and glancing around at the other attackers, non of which moved.

"You're happy with that?" Carol questioned as her brows furrowed. Confused by your apparent contentment.

"It's actually quite relieving to hear. It means I'm on the right track. I much prefer people trying to kill me over people misleading me." You explained as you started to wander away.

You had been in that situation before, it always happened with the biggest bounties who had a lot of people defending them. The misleading happened first, and then the paranoia kicked in and everyone was told to go into full defense. It also meant you were getting closer, but with Daexire you were sure you had a way to go before you could truly celebrate any progress.

"So you know where to go next?" You cringed slightly at that. It did help, but the next place you had in mind was one you never thought you would return to. You had wanted to put it off for longer, but seeing how defensive the people in that area had been made it the logical place to go.

You didn't answer Carol, knowing what she was going to suggest. She seemed to know what your silence meant.

"You know...you kind of owe me now." She said slowly. You turned to her sharply and met her searching gaze. You hated that she was right. You also hates being in people's debt. "And don't say you had it under control because we both know you didn't." You still stayed silent but avoided her gaze this time, pretending to survey your surroundings.

"We're on the same side, you know?" She said. There was no arrogant tone to her voice this time. No superiority. She spoke as though it was genuinely something she wanted you to understand. You did.

"I have rules." You stated, looking back at her. Carol smiled hopefully, it suited her. "You follow my lead when we're talking to people." Carol instantly opened her mouth to oppose but you stopped her by speaking louder. "I know these people, you don't. I know how they work, how they think. You can fight, Danvers, I'll give you that. I know that you're a superhero and all, but what we're doing now is bounty hunting. That's my world. It'll only work if you follow my lead." You explained to her as best you could. You needed her to understand that. Carol considered your words as she searched your face for...well you weren't entirely sure what she was looking. So you took a guess.

"I know I'm getting money out of this when it's done. But it's about more than that with Daexire, I know what he's done, what he'll continue to do. He needs to be stopped, and we can only stop him if this is done right. I'm not even going to attempt to boss you around, you're far too stubborn, just trust that I know this better."

She continued to look at you carefully until, you weren't sure you even wanted to hazard a guess as to know what she was thinking. Finally, Carol nodded tightly, you knew she was still unsure. It must have been a while since someone had asked that of her, you just hoped she would understand early on.

"Great." You released a breath you didn't know you had been holding and ran a hand through your hair as you stepped back.

"Do I at least get to fly your ship?" Carol asked as a mischievous twinkle emerged in her eyes. You rolled your eyes to stop the smile that threatened to form as you walked back to your ship.

"Don't push it, Danvers."

[the-currian]

T7!

lmao this entire fic is full of inside jokes. originally made for the Filo A3!/Genshin discord I’m a part of as part of the server bang. it’s already been uploaded there, so i decided to fix it up a bit and upload it here as well^^

i may not be active anymore in the server; i’m more of a lurker now, but i’d like to dedicate this to the server members. you guys gave me lots of good times and things to smile about & look forward to during a time when i was trying to pick myself up. thank you <3

--

One event that Izumi brushes off as the daily shenanigans that come along with being the director of the Mankai Company has a bigger impact on her actors than she thought.

or:

The director is clueless to the thirst/advances of the company. The troupes struggle. The director remains oblivious.

--

It all started with a towel.

Living in a dorm along with over twenty young men, surely there would be no shortage of needs for day-to-day life… or so Izumi thought. Staring at her reflection in the bathroom’s mirror has made her realize that perhaps she’d overestimated the dorm’s supplies.

‘Maybe if I’m quiet enough, no one will notice me sneaking back to my room.’ She thinks to herself in dismay, tugging at the bath towel that just barely covered the more…indecent parts of her body.

‘It’s just my luck that my bathroom sprung a leak.’

Thus, Izumi was forced to use one of the communal bathrooms shared by the actors. Of course, she’d made it abundantly clear that no one was allowed to go in while she made use of the actors’ facilities (Izumi’s also fairly sure that Sakyo had stressed that no one was allowed even remotely near the communal bathroom while she were there) but the thought of walking back to her room with nothing but a towel on made her anxiety skyrocket.

‘I should’ve just waited for my own shower to be fixed.’

Being too used to having her own private bathroom, Izumi had developed the habit of only grabbing a towel from a cabinet before heading off into the showers since it’s directly connected to her room. Why bother bringing new clothes into the bathroom and risk getting them wet when she could just change in her own bedroom?

Obviously that logic was null in this scenario – what with the trek she now has to make back to her room from the communal showers, and only in a towel! Moreover, the towel was obviously intended for only covering the lower half of men, if the short length was anything to go by.

Mulling it over, Izumi weighs the pros and cons of walking through the dorm’s corridors in only a towel to shield herself, then allows herself a few minutes to sulk over the decision made. Taking a deep breath, Izumi steels herself before slowly creaking open the bathroom door, peeking for any bystanders. Seeing none, she carefully tiptoes back to her room. 

Thud. Thud. Thud.

As she makes her way through, Izumi feel like every step echoes throughout the halls and she instinctively tightens her grip on the towel, desperately trying to draw it tighter and more securely around her. Thankfully, Izumi is able to make it to her room without incident – she really needs to thank Sakyo for clearing the area later – when suddenly, as her room is less than a meter away, a shadow darts into her field of vision.

Already tense and on edge from the situation she found herself in, Izumi lets out an ear-splitting shriek and all hell breaks loose.

Footsteps come thundering her way and Izumi’s brain short-circuits as the whole company suddenly appears in the corridors, all of them calling out “director” or various other namesakes in worried tones.

Izumi struggles to form a coherent sentence to tell them that she’s fine and for all of them to stay the hell away please and thank you, when the shadow from earlier who she now identifies as Misumi in the middle of a triangle hunt cheerfully calls out,

“Oh, director! Did you have a nice bath?”

The corridor goes eerily quiet, and Izumi feel several pairs of eyes focused on her state of dress – or lack thereof, rather.

Masumi and several other of the younger members faint almost instantly. Most of the adults’ faces flush bright red as they stammer out apologies, while some others politely avert their eyes.

One thing is for certain.

The entire company is suddenly reminded that their director is in fact a very attractive, very single, woman.

As all the men seem to be distracted by their own mental turmoil, Izumi takes the opportunity to slip into her room. After making sure the door is securely locked, she deflates and slides down against the door. The shuffling of footsteps fades away, signaling the company members’ retreat, and Izumi’s mind takes its sweet time to process what just occurred.

Once again, the Mankai dorms are filled with Izumi’s ear-splitting shriek, only this time the members are wise enough to leave her be.

--

By dinnertime, Izumi figures she’s calmed down enough to let bygones be bygones.

“Thanks for the food!” she forces herself to say in a cheery manner, tight-lipped smile giving her away.

She’s honestly still feeling a bit apprehensive by the stares she receives over the dining table, but her actors fall back into an easy conversation. Izumi, on the other hand, finds herself half-heartedly poking the eggplant tempura that she normally eats with gusto as a side dish to her beloved curry. Something about the atmosphere makes her feel uneasy as if there’s some sort of unspoken tension that everyone but she has figured out.

Again, Izumi feels everyone’s eyes on her as she abruptly stands up. In her haste, the chair screeches against the floor and her tableware clatters noisily, making herself the unwanted center of attention.

“I…I’m not feeling that hungry tonight.” Izumi mutters, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Mustering up the last of her dignity, Izumi shuffles out of the room and goes straight to her bedroom, making sure the door locks.

Unbeknownst to her, mere minutes after she’d cleared the vicinity, Sakyo abruptly calls for an all-troupes-on-deck meeting. After clearing the dining area, the large group of young men make their way over to the living room and try their best to get comfortable amongst one another, the room suddenly feeling very cramped with everyone in the room at the same time.

In front of them all, the only one standing, Sakyo paces back and forth as he strategizes the best course of action to approach the situation. He comes to a sudden halt and the group’s attention is immediately focused on Sakyo, with the younger ones’ backs stiffening as they straighten up in an unconscious sign of deference.

“We do not speak of the incident that happened earlier this morning.” Sakyo’s voice comes out quietly but threateningly as he levels a glare at each and every occupant of the room. “We make the director feel as safe as possible in our presence. Got it?”

Not bothering to wait for a response, Sakyo stalks out of the room. Slowly, the actors disperse and go about their usual nightly activities, but fuelled by the reminder of the spectacle that had occurred that morning gave them some other plans in mind.

--

“Tangina mo, Banri.” Itaru swears under his breath as his character is suddenly left for dead in the middle of a space station. The culprit was none other than Banri, who had Itaru and the other players in the server fooled.

“What was that, Chigasaki?” Chikage questions with mild interest from his side of the room.

Itaru takes out his phone and opens up another game to play as he waits for Banri to inevitably win as the impostor in the game.

“Playing a game with some strangers online. Picked up some lingo from these Filo players that Banri and I happen to clash against a lot.” Itaru elaborates with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

“Hm. I do wonder how you or Settsu intend to win the director over when all you do is mess around in those games of yours.”

Itaru’s fingers hover over his phone screen for a split second as he processes the older man’s words.

“…Excuse me?”

“You are aware of what the... ah, towel incident this morning has caused, aren’t you?”

“Sakyo already told us to not bring it up.” Itaru says calmly, but Chikage notices his roommate’s ears redden at the reminder, and is pleased to see that his goading has its intended effect.

“Of course.” Chikage concedes. “However, the younger members of the troupe can be quite rash.”

Itaru lightly drops his phone onto his desk and runs his fingers through his hair as he grudgingly turns to his roommate. Itaru hastily ties his bangs away from his face and levels what he hopes is a neutral stare at Chikage. 

“Not my job to keep the kids’ thirsting under control.” He says, then turns back to face his monitor.

“I suppose…”

With that, Itaru starts playing his game again as the subject matter is dropped.

“But perhaps it’s not the kids you should be worrying about.”

…or so he thought.

Again, Itaru takes the bait and bites out, “What exactly are you trying to say, senpai?”

Chikage changes his expression into one of feigned innocence. “Nothing, really. Ah, I do hope you don’t mind having curry for lunch tomorrow. The director and I will be cooking together all morning.”

Itaru is about to stand up and retort, fed up with Chikage’s subtle remarks, when a loud noise blares from Itaru’s computer, causing him to curse and swiftly turn back to his screen. “Shit, you’re distracting me from my game. Do me a favor and go back to being the absentee roommate for a while.”

With an amused chuckle, Chikage acquiesces to his roommate’s request and heads out, closing the door behind him.

Itaru slumps back against his chair as soon as the older man is gone and puts on his headset. Taking a quick glance back before clicking it on, he speaks in a low voice,

“Hey, director, sorry for muting my mici. Let’s get back to the game, shall we?”

--

The next morning, Chikage walks into the kitchen with a special bag of spices in hand. However, seeing another member of the company already in the kitchen with the director has him narrowing his eyes and his mouth curving down in displeasure.

“So first we have to roast the eggplant before we dip it in the egg?” Izumi asks her companion.

Chikage takes in the sight of Omi leaning in quite close behind the director with the excuse of supervising her work, and a twinge of annoyance bothers him.

“That’s right.” Omi confirms, drawing even closer to Izumi as he points to the long, purple fruit. “But before that, we peel the skin off after it’s done roasting.”

The tall college student is practically caging Izumi as both hands reach from either side of her to demonstrate how to peel the eggplant. At this, Chikage decides to make his presence known.

“I was under the impression that it would only be the two of us making lunch, director.” he butts in, frown replaced with a sharp smile.

“Oh, Chikage!” Izumi calls out as she casually slips out of Omi’s arms, oblivious to the pout on Omi’s face as she does so. “Don’t worry! We’re still making curry for lunch. It’s just that Tasuku got a bunch of eggplants from helping out at a farm, so we’ve been trying to figure out different ways to cook them. I believe this dish is called tortang talong? Anyway, Omi insisted that he help me out with lunch today! I hope you don’t mind.”

“Yes, I hope you don’t mind the intrusion, Chikage.” Omi echoes, looking completely unapologetic as he says so.

Not one to back down, Chikage completely ignores the younger man’s backhanded apology and instead turns his attention to the director.

“Here.” he says, holding the bag of spices out to Izumi. As she takes the bag from Chikage, his hands linger on hers for much longer than strictly necessary, causing her grip on the bag to fumble. A blush quickly creeps onto Izumi’s face.

“Th-thanks.” She stammers, hastily pulling her hands back as soon as she’s gotten a firm hold on the bag of spices.

The three adults cook in the kitchen with an awkward silence that Izumi just can’t figure out the root of. An unspoken tension looms over and she can’t bring herself to speak up. Lost in her thoughts, Izumi picks up a roasted eggplant then yelps at the heat of the newly roasted fruit, burning herself. Before Izumi can act, Omi grasps her wrist, inspecting her hand.

“Be careful, alright?” he says gently, guiding Izumi over to the sink and sticking her hand under the running faucet.

Izumi involuntarily shivers, and she’s not so sure if it’s because of the temperature of the cold water or if it’s because of the tender way that Omi handles her.

“Let Omi and I take care of the rest, director.” Chikage’s voice comes out harshly, snapping Izumi out of her thoughts. He hands her an ice pack and she takes it with a grateful smile.

“That’s probably for the best.” Izumi agrees, then turns off the faucet. As she leaves the kitchen and heads over to the living room, Izumi can feel the tension from earlier return tenfold and quickly hightails it out of there, deciding that she didn’t want to know, nor did she want to get caught up in the crossfire.

--

“So it’s curry again today, huh.” Tenma says dejectedly as he settles at the dining table.

Most of the other company members mumble the same sentiment but ultimately sit down.

Citron’s eyes light up as he spots the other food dish on the table. “Not to worry, everyone! It appears we are also having Tasuku’s eggplant for lunch!”

Several of the actors give Citron a blank stare.

“Somehow, that just doesn’t sound right.” Taichi says, and Juza nods in agreement.

“Oh, director! What happened to your hand?” Tsumugi blurts out, immediately picking up on the strange way Izumi held her chopsticks.

Izumi blanches and reflexively cradles her hand to her chest, closing herself off from the young men to spare them from worry. “It’s nothi–“

“Izumi accidentally burned herself while preparing lunch.” Chikage immediately speaks over her.

“Uwah!” Muku cries out. “Director, you shouldn’t be using your hand, then! You might irritate the wound and then it might get worse and then you’ll have to retire from being director because your–“

“Hey, hey, chillax!” Kazunari reins in Muku before he can start spiralling into catastrophizing Izumi’s minor dilemma. “The solution is obvious, Mukkun! All I have to do is feed Izumi her lunch! Her dinner, too, probs!”

“If anyone is feeding the director, it’s gonna be me.” Masumi asserts.

“Now hold on a minute. “ Izumi begins to protest.

“Fufufu~ How about it, director?” Azuma says, offering his own eggplant to Izumi with his chopsticks.

The dining room is quickly filled with the clamor of various members insisting that they be the one to feed the director her lunch.

“Boys, settle down!” Izumi yells over the cacophony of voices. At the authority in her tone, the young men back down and turn their attention to Izumi. “No one is going to be feeding me my lunch but myself.”

“But director, I must insist that we protect your hand from–“ Homare insists, then cuts himself off as he shrinks back from Izumi’s intense glare.

“I’ll just eat with my other hand using a fork.” She says before turning to Sakyo. “Sakyo, if you’d be so kind, could you cut my food into smaller pieces for me?”

“What a kid.” He grouses, but obliges to Izumi’s request, a triumphant glow in his eyes as he challengingly looks at the other members who are about to protest.

With the problem solved and the members (relatively) under control, lunch proceeds as normal – well, as normal as possible – for the Mankai Company.

--

“I’m really sorry to bother you two like this.” Izumi addresses the two men in her room later that afternoon. “I know I should probably get a professional to do this, but I just don’t want a repeat of yesterday happening anytime soon.”

All three occupants of the room’s faces heat up at the reminder.

“It’s fine.” Tasuku mumbles, determinedly looking at anywhere but Izumi.

“Right!” Tsuzuru chimes in, eyebrow twitching in betrayal of his true emotions. “Since Tasuku and I are both used to doing odd jobs, this’ll be a cinch.”

“Alright, then.” Izumi says, then opens the door to her bathroom, ushering the two young men inside. Tasuku and Tsuzuru take wary steps, toolboxes in hand, feeling a bit apprehensive about invading Izumi’s private space.

“Go ahead.” Izumi encourages, noticing their stiff posture. “I have nothing to hide! No dead bodies or horses or any other weird things like that.” She jokes, hoping to lighten up the atmosphere.

Neither of the actors deign to give her a response, and instead set down their toolboxes, pulling out wrenches, screwdrivers, flashlights, and the like to figure out and solve the leakage.

Izumi silently watches as the two men deftly handle the tools. She finds herself entranced by the way their arms slightly flex while their fingers nimbly maneuver their tools as they tinker away at her shower.

Realizing her train of thought, Izumi lightly slaps her cheeks as she feels a blush rising to her face.

‘Get a hold of yourself! They’re just here to fix your shower–‘

Izumi’s mind comes to a screeching halt as Tasuku lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe some sweat off of his brow, unknowingly (?) allowing her to catch a glimpse of his abs. Similarly affected by the heat as they work, Tsuzuru rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, showing off his lean arm muscles along with the veins that slightly protrude from his forearms as they flex whilst working.

“I-I’ll leave you to it, then!” Izumi barely manages to squeak out, face glowing bright red, before fleeing the bathroom.

Tasuku and Tsuzuru spare a quick glance back at her retreating figure before going back to work, identical smirks on their smug faces.

--

Later that evening, Izumi’s shower is fixed without incident and she’s ready to relax after all the shenanigans of the day.

‘Nothing like a hot shower to wash the stress away before going to bed.’

This time, she makes sure to check the towel’s length, ensuring it’s long enough to cover all the important bits. After a few seconds of contemplation, she also grabs a bathrobe.

‘Just in case…’

Izumi lazily undresses herself before settling under the stream of warm, steaming water. A satisfied mewl escapes her lips as she feels herself unwind, her body relaxing in the warmth of the shower.

She allows herself a few minutes of comfortable silence in the shower before grabbing her shampoo to start lathering when the water suddenly turns ice cold. Her eyes widen at the sensation as she instinctively jumps away and lets out a screech.

Within seconds, the actors’ footsteps thunder down the corridor over to Izumi’s room. A sense of déjà vu comes over her as she hears several shouts of, “Director, are you okay?!” and “What’s going on?!”, coupled with loud banging on her (thankfully) locked door.

Izumi lets out an exasperated groan.

‘I knew I should’ve just gotten a professional to fix the shower.’

[stopeatingwhales]

mirage x john taylor

i wrote this a while ago, but for some reason i didn't post it lmao, its one of my favourite things that i've ever written, so i really hoep you enjoy it! also john taylor omfgggjja

Pairing: 82! john taylor x reader

Warnings: none at all

Word count: 2.602

༉‧₊˚✧

Admiring the earth in the early hours of dawn was as if an angel had blessed you with the first sightings of heaven. It’s a glimpse of life at its true peak, demonstrating the true meaning of what living is and what it should be: beauty at its finest resort. At this hour, you’re able to catch the sight of earth in total fragility, a mere ghost-town without a soul in sight. There was little to no irritations echoing out of any residences aligned by the coast (as there usually would be until 4 in the morning), just the mere accompaniment of the exuberant sounds of eloquent waves, crashing aimlessly into the golden landscape of the beach. There was also an occasional chirp of the cicadas scattered around the atmosphere, putting my mind at ease as though I wasn’t the only person on earth awake at this celestial hour. I constantly cherished moments like these; they were, surprisingly, the only times I was able to simply breathe. No distractions, no one coming up to me questioning whether I was going to go to the amazing-party-down-town that everyone is somehow going to, it was just me. Life plays by so quickly, people seem to forget the beauty in which is constantly surrounding them. A party doesn't mean anything, a one-night-stand doesn’t mean much but a potential orgasm. This, however, being alone, admiring the world in all its might and eccentricity, produces a euphoria not even drugs can obtain a level to. This place undeniably fixated a meandering caprice on me — like a blanket of unknown being poured on each side of my body, indulging me with a time of self-discovery and meaning. There were constant thoughts echoing through my mind frivolously, so loud and so ripe, but quiet, dimmed, as if they were too loud for me to even muster, resulting in a forceful crumble of a delighted whisper. As I gazed at the land that lay ahead of me, I examined every little detail that I could set my eyes upon. Palm trees danced with the wind, cavorting in their own, personal fantasies as if they each occupied an individual mind. Their movements were graceful, almost completely orchestrated, yet sloppy, like a drunken collapse of a newly-wedded couple in the centre of the dancefloor of their service they’ve jointly paid life savings on, a moment so inebriated in love, adoration, and commitment. I envied their joy, their casual sways, their attempted defiance against the power of nature, for they probably felt contentment every single day of their existence by such an uncanny resort.

As my eyes began to slowly trail off the dazzling trees, I looked up to gawk at the alluring illustrations painted on the ceiling of the nirvana that rested forth from me. There was not a single whiff of cloud in sight, the atmosphere simply pencilling an array of warm shades, ranging from the deep, murderous blood oranges, to royal delicacies of periwinkle. The view was unfathomable. As the waves began to pick up, I felt the light gusts of wind that accompanied me previously begin to cement. The air calloused my hair, marvelling in the deeply coated locks, attempting to carry them to its next destination. It almost felt the same way as someone brushing their fingers through my roots, all the way down to the aged, lifeless tips. I felt my skin begin to draw goosebumps, an indication that it was time for me to head inside. However, I wanted to occupy the time I had. I didn’t mind painfully tormenting my body when coming into contact with such a meandering view. I was holding a moment, capturing a memory, taking panoramic snaps to engrave in my mind because I was fully aware that this would be the only chance of true life I’d have. I compelled my body to stay put, even though I was practically ice, forcing my eyes continuing their glimmer at the picturesque skies — I simply was unable to get enough of it all. Every few minutes, just when I was feeling my eyes get heavy and my eyebags pull at my face, I’d notice a new, fresh colour contrast in the empyrean, my eyes widening at the serendipity that had laid out, once again. Simply inhaling the sweet taste of purified air and having my eyes fixate on such pictorial demises, was causing me to lose my grip with reality. The oxygen, the sunlight, the entire concept of life, is all somehow always so much more tranquil yet augmented when you’re situated by the coastline.

After what felt like a million years and a million different shades of colours verging from reds, to yellows, to blues, I felt two arms slowly slider around my shoulders. Snapping me out of my trance, I felt my heart skip a beat, until I came to the rational realisation that it was him.Turning my head, I instantly came into contact with the face of a tired, smiley John, tailgated by a whiff of messy hair sloppily covering his forehead. I attempted to hold back my smile by forcing my teeth on my bottom lip, yet I was seemingly unsuccessful. Our faces were merely centimetres apart, our noses very nearly brushing against one anothers, though it felt like they already were. My eyes, which were once so focused and enthralled by the view above, were trapped in the stare that was reciprocated by the man whose arms were adorned by my torso at this moment. I studied his features intently for the short period of time our stare was consumed in, analyzing anything and everything I could identify — his perfectly shaped nose, so accurately proportionalized in all areas; his thin, flawlessly drawn eyebrows — eyebrows women would pay so much for to get done; his pink, puffy, paradisiacal lips, lips you would seemingly never get enough of; and not to forget his seraphical eyes, eyes that would draw you in instantaneously, eyes that would pierce daggers to your soul and make it ache in rapture. Whenever he would stare at me, I felt intimidated by the adoration that seeped out of his beautifully drawn pupils. His eyes were a visage to his soul, his emotions; it wasn’t hard to determine his feelings when coming into contact with his gaze. His face was a dream to look at, and sometimes I felt that he wasn’t real, just a conjured up scenario I’ve placed myself into, a product of my own fantasy, the looks in which he conveyed of pure gorgeousness and idyllicism seemed like they were sculpted in the garden of Eden. He seemed like he came from the garden of Eden. “Good morning,” he chirped, the gravelly sound exhibited from his larynx was yet to fade off, proof that he hadn’t been up for that long. “Why’re you out here?”

Beaming at him, I turned my head to watch the ardent waves repetitively douse themselves onto the soft ground. No matter how many times I watched it, the same feeling of relaxation and relief released itself from my veins as I had felt the very first time I held my admiration towards it. Sighing, I felt I was silenced by the grace of the water, grabbing onto one of John’s hands as a form of support to allow me to speak. “It’s so pretty out here, can’t you see?” I answered lightly with all the courage I was able to muster, feeling a sudden throb disperse itself in my heart. My eyes gazing at the view forth caused a feeling of not only elementary joy, which made me feel like a child again, but heavy nostalgia and emptiness, the type of emotion that washes over you when you’re reminiscing over memories shared with your lost ones — your facial expressions show you smiling sweetly, but inside your body is crumbling. It’s bittersweet. Clutching onto his hand made me feel secure, content, wanting to cherish this moment and hold it accountable for all its might, though I felt like a creep trying to explain myself to John. These thoughts, these emotions I cohered in my mind made me feel like I was a complete lunatic, that I was looking too in-between-the-lines, too in-depth. I couldn’t help it though, it came naturally, like how overthinking possesses one’s brain in the most cruel and unpleasant mannerisms.

I heard a small hum rumble out of John’s throat. Moving to sit beside me, I felt his arms detach themselves slowly, the slowness of his movements almost indicated that he didn’t want to move, though he was moving closer to me. I was sitting on the wooden bench situated in the centre of the medium-sized patio, and as time passed on, it began to get lonely with it just being me and the coastline. However, once he sat the closest he could without practically throwing himself on me, I felt full again. No matter what happened, no matter what I thought or felt, having him beside me as our bodies were enveloped in a cordial embrace made me realise that it’s not just the admiration of the place that put me in such a beautified mood, seeing the trueness in all that surrounded me, but it’s also the people I surround myself, my days, my life with. And I’m sure by now, by feeling this exact same feeling with John, I know I would adore spending the rest of my life with him.

“How are you?” I attempted to change the subject, turning my head to admire the side of his genial face. His right arm was now stretched out, resting on my shoulders whilst his free hand began lightly gripping the bone of my shoulder in an attempt to cold onto me, as if I was going to vanish and flutter off into the abyss of the crystal blue ocean, as if the grip I enamoured his palm in wasn’t enough. His head immediately swung to gaze at me as soon as I spoke. A small smile formed on his face, almost exact to the little smile he threw at me when he first came up to me a couple of minutes ago, portraying his deprived self. My heart felt warm staring back at John’s eyes, the simple doing birthing millions of butterflies in my stomach, though it was contrasted against an emotion of complete elation and bliss in my mind. I couldn’t help but smile back at him as he abruptly cleared his throat before speaking, the intimidation and nervousness pooled in my body now taken off guard from trying to murder my insides.

“I’m decent,” he mumbled, his fingers now relaxing on my flesh as he softly drew patterns on my shoulder. The childlike action was seemingly able to captivate my stomach with butterflies once again, a small beam creeping on my face as I felt a blush creep on my cheeks. I avoided looking at him, though I knew he knew exactly what he was doing to me; he always did. He knew me exactly like the back of his hand, hell, even better than that. “What time did you get up?”

A small laugh rang through my throat before I spoke. It almost came across as me mimicking his own throat soundings, though I wasn’t. “At the crack of dawn, my dear,” I smiled at him, my body lacking resistance to not lock eyes with the boy situated next to me any longer. His stare was infatuating, his deep, brown, ethereal orbs that somehow brought the light I never knew I needed in my life, were like the angels granting you blessings through the stairway to heaven. “You know me, I’ve always been like this.”

The everlasting stare that fell onto my face from his eyes felt like my pores being deep fried by the sun. A small smile insinuated itself onto his dishevelled face, a diligent one. “That is in fact true,” he began, moving his stare into the glamorous empyrean that laid forth the pair of us. He took my hand, the frost that formed on the outlines of my skin sending feelings of shock to my nerves as the warmth of his palm enraptured itself with mine. “I simply wonder how you do it.”

After those words easily fell from his lips, I turned my head to look at him — specifically his side profile — as he enamoured himself in the transience of the colours. I spent a few moments — moments not too long, yet not too short to make the dissonance of time to deplete — to take in the scenario playing out currently. “If I were to tell you how, I would be defying my own self.”

He turned to me, curious and confused, pulling away from our shared embrace lightly to look me deeply in the eyes. “Reiterate?”

A short laugh escaped my body at his sudden reaction. We shared a moment of complete silence, a build-up to the words that I found myself beginning to slide off my tongue. A short intake of crisp oxygen and I was off, speaking my mind out of earnest discernment. “By telling you how I do such things, it almost exposes the wirings of my mind, what makes me who I am. And perhaps it’s a self-indulged fear, like everything comes to be, of revealing too much of myself that makes me think like this, but it is always the element of mystery that draws those who are curious towards that void that is unknown, hoping they find out enough that dishevels that scarcely pit of wonder,” I began, us now sharing an intense stare with one another, the earth completely silent, as if it were listening to every word that left my lips. “Or maybe that is just my secret attempt of keeping you with me for much longer than this sunrise can elongate.” I finished, attempting to brighten the atmosphere from my mind’s most destructive and aimless thoughts.

It is true bravery, to speak your mind, more so it is to reveal your true identity, and to be able to do that, dictates the idea that the fear of living is nothing but the mind’s own manacles. We kept soft, meaningful smiles on our faces as our eyes melted together. The little grimace grew all the more wider after my little try for a joke played through. “We are who we are, having secretly decided who we’d like to be, no?” He asked, his head cocked to the side, almost mocking my words previously.

It’s an unexplainable feeling, love. It disregards all aspects of morality, for you find yourself in a want, a greed to present yourself to them in ways unexplainable. There isn’t much you can do, that is. Either let the fire in your heart, pumping twice the amount of usual speed it would do per minute, simply fade out into an abyss of your recall, or contain its cancerous feelings, for all you muster your ability to do is fall more and more in love with them each day. As cancerous as it is however, you willingly choose to delve yourself deeper, until you manage to get injured horribly, or sometimes you come to a simple jurisdiction that the water is too sour for you to swallow. My smile grew wider at the quote that rolled off so delicately off his tongue, a feeling of euphoria that clashed in unison with the tide poured over my body from head to toe. “Yes, exactly that, my love.”

[apageinthecastle]

A Quarantined Reunion - Chapter two: Chosen Wars

Painful reminders of the past plague both Frank Castle and Karen Page when they find themselves within the walls of Frank's apartment.

It didn’t take long to get her back to his place, something he was grateful for. He shut and locked the door behind them, still supporting Karen’s weight as he walked her to his couch, setting her down gently. Her eyes lingered on him for another moment before slowly looking around. She swallowed, clearing her throat and pressing her hands - still shaking - against her knees. It was the nudging of a wet nose under her arm that finally broke her out of her haze. Her lips barely curled into the hint of a smile as she looked down to see a friendly-faced pit bull, running her hand over his head.

"Max," Frank offered as explanation. The dog's ears perked up at the sound of his name.

“You… I, um. Where did you, I mean…” Karen's thoughts were still jumbled and trying to find the words she wanted was even more difficult than usual for the woman. “Thank you.” she finally settled on the simple phrase. Her body was tense and she still felt like she couldn’t catch her breath. She had been completely defenseless, and she shuddered to think what might have happened had Frank not shown up precisely when he had. She swallowed again, running a shaky hand through her hair. “Do you, um...beer?”

He fought a smile and nodded. “I, um, beer.”

Frank fidgeted as he made his way to the kitchen, rolling his eyes at himself. It was hardly the time for it, but the playful retort had fallen out of his mouth before he could think. Falling into banter with Karen was instinctual, easy as breathing. Time and place, Marine, time and place. ‘I, um, beer’, Jesus Christ.

He sighed as popped the caps from two bottles, walking back to the living room and pressing one into her trembling hands. He had never seen her like this. Not when she recounted her past or the stories about Fisk. Not when she’d been all but begging him to look for an After. Not even when she’d been held hostage by that kid, Wilson. What was his name? Lewis.

A fragile, unfamiliar silence settled like dust between them, and Frank found himself tapping against the cool glass of the beer bottle he held. She was coherent enough to speak, obviously, but he had no way of guessing at the things left unsaid. If given half a chance and enough beer, even in the state she was in, she would probably tear into him. He probably - no, definitely - deserved it.

With a quiet sigh and still unsteady hand, Karen raised the bottle to her lips as Max took a firm seat beside her, leaning his weight against her slightly. One long drink later, she looked back over at Frank. Other than the small mark on his cheek, he looked… well, he looked good. No bruises, no cuts, nothing to allude to the wars that had been his home for as long as she had actively known him. The wars he’d chosen over her.

Not that she would ever tell him that. Not that she would ever share with him that her choice to visit Frank in the hospital those two years ago had been the end of her relationship with Matt. She hadn’t been able to respond when he had asked her if Matt knew that she was there - a silence he’d taken as a no. In reality, her silence had come from the fact that with that choice to once again help Frank Castle, Matthew Murdock - ever unable to understand her own past and why she saw the Punisher as something more than his actions - had ended things.

Since then, they had barely spoken.

Karen couldn’t bring herself to regret her choice. She had cared about Matt, that much was a certainty. Hell, even Frank had been able to see it shortly after meeting her, telling her as much in that diner where he had effectively used her as bait. She did care, of course she did, but it paled in comparison to the way she felt about the short haired man in front of her. She hadn’t just wanted him to choose to love someone instead of choosing another war. She had wanted him to choose to love her. She certainly loved him.

None of that mattered anymore, though. He had said no. He had once again chosen war over the After she so desperately wanted for him. The After he deserved, even if he couldn’t see it himself.

Seeing him now, relatively unscathed compared to how he usually showed up, almost took what little breath she had away. Was he actually staying out of trouble? No. Even if he is, it doesn’t matter, Karen, she told herself. He had made his choice and she very much wasn’t it.

Whatever words had been about to come from her lips were lost before they ever found their way there and she instead brought the bottle back to her mouth. She took another long drink, staring at the green glass in her hands.

Across from her, Frank nodded, though he didn’t know why or to what. There seemed to be, as there often was, an unspoken agreement between them. Something understood without any need for explanation. This time, however, it made him anxious. He'd lost track of the things they were agreeing to. I should apologize. I should ask her how she’s feeling. I should explain how and why I showed up when I did, let her know I wasn’t following her, or-- he cut his train of thought short by clearing his throat, setting his untouched beer aside and running his hands unsteadily along his thighs as he stood.

“Karen, I…”

What the fuck are you even trying to say, Castle? He shook his head and gestured vaguely. There wasn’t a goddamn thing he could think of that would make any of the shit between them any better, any different. When he heard her voice fill the silence, he was grateful.

“So, how long have you been back in Hell’s Kitchen?” she asked quietly, looking over at him.

“Oh, um. Close to a year now,” he admitted, shifting his weight between his feet. He was only able to meet her eyes for small moments at a time, flicking them away and back again.

She pressed her lips together, nodding once and taking another drink from her beer. “Without a goddamn war, huh?”

A muscle in Frank’s jaw ticked and he fought to keep his expression even, nodding slowly. It wasn't a question, it was an accusation. He turned away and watched any hope he’d had of meeting her gaze fly through the crack in his living room window. His voice was soft and distant in response.

“Yeah. Yeah, without a goddamn war, or… something like that, I guess.”

Her hand tightening on the bottle as she fought off the rising tide of emotion she felt, she raised it to her lips again, draining the beer. She pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the godawful jolt of pain through her wrist.

"I should go."

Instinctively, he took a step toward her, putting his hands up and taking a step back again once he noticed. “No, uh…” He sighed, running a hand over his head and mustering the courage to meet her gaze. He studied her. Even coherent enough to speak, hold conversation, make long-overdue digs at him, he could see from the barely-concealed shakes wracking her frame that she was in no position to be going back out there alone.

“Stay.”

She stared at him for a moment, letting the word echo around in her head. The last words he’d spoken to her in that god forsaken hospital room played alongside it. I gotta walk out of here, and you can’t do it with me.

Without another word, she set the bottle down and started toward the door. It was another, singular syllable that stopped her in her tracks.

“Please.” Goddamn him and the way he wielded that weapon against her like a bullet to the heart.

Frank could see the gears turning in her head, even from across the room. The slight tensing of her shoulders as she took a deep breath and the slow, uneven shift of her weight from foot to foot, option to option. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding when she turned, sharply drawing it back in as her eyes fell on his. There was nothing uncertain about them. Everything that had been a near-impossible read just moments ago had fallen away. Karen was livid, and rightfully so. He braced himself for the years of… well, anything and everything his absence had been filled with.

“I told you we would figure it out together.” Her voice was low. She was angry beyond the point of shouting. All the hurt and frustration and long abandoned hope for the man in front of her was boiling over, but it was a quiet rage. She moved her hands between them. “Us, together. Just like with your family, just like with David Lieberman.

“I told you that you could choose to love someone instead of another war, and you told me it wasn’t what you wanted. You told me what your life was and you asked me if I wanted to be a part of it and you never, not for a single goddamn second, actually gave me a chance to answer you. And don’t you dare sit there and say that you did, that the silence between us wasn’t full of your stubborn bullshit. That’s all I ever was to you, wasn’t it? Just someone whose life you could walk in and out of as it was convenient for you.”

He took another step back, looking down and licking his lips. His fingers twitched incessantly at his side. He wanted to tell her no. He wanted to tell her it was never about convenience, that the silence between them was more often full of regret than bullshit. That she had never been ‘just’ anything to him. He opened his mouth to speak, and all of his words turned to ash on his tongue as he stammered. He shook his head before daring to meet her eyes again, hoping his own might say the things he couldn’t.

“No. No… you know that.” Her expectant stare and his rising panic prompted a weak response from his throat. His late wife’s voice rang like a bell through his head, their last one-on-one conversation replaying as it so often did. “I don’t know that.” Maria's voice had been broken, desperate. Hurt. Frank closed his eyes, forcing the memory to dissipate as he hung on the edge of the moment for a response.

“Do I, Frank? Do I?” She started pacing his living room, crossing her arms as she watched him. “I mean, you never said goodbye when you left. You looked down at me from a damn tower. The next time I see you it’s because you needed my help figuring out who Micro was, and then it was because of Lewis and we said goodbye, and then at the hospital, and I haven’t seen or heard a damn word from you in two years. I’m just another pawn in your war for you to move around and the second you decided you didn’t want another one, well, I guess that’s the end of that.” She knew her words weren’t true, and she regretted them the second they came out of her mouth as she saw the hurt flash deep in his eyes.

Frank knew when to keep his mouth shut, but it wasn’t often - if ever, now that he was forced to think of it - that he was rendered speechless. All the air had been sucked out of his lungs, any words along with it. He found himself frozen, unable to even look away from her prying gaze. Slowly, and with all the energy he could muster, his response was still whispered.

“You’re right.” He focused on flexing and releasing his muscles, one group at a time, willing himself into being able to move again. “Not about…” He shook his head, stiffly. Arguing was pointless. Whether the specifics of what she said were true or not, she had a point. He’d done little to maintain any connections that weren’t useful to him once he had decided he was feeling too much. The people he allowed to get close to him were only given so much room, so much opportunity, and then he cut them loose. He could never find it in himself to let them make their own decisions. He had to keep them safe, couldn’t have them on his conscience… however he wanted to word it, it was always the same.

“I, uh…” There wasn’t anything he could say. Apologies fell short and were too far out of date to make a dent. In lieu of apology, he reached blindly behind him for the arm of the couch and sat down on it. He exhaled any breath that might have been wasted on explanation, nodding again.

She squeezed her own arms slightly, hoping he couldn’t see that she’d started shaking again. Conflicting emotions barreled through her. She was genuinely angry - how could she not be? It didn’t change the things she’d always thought about him. Frank Castle was a man with a history, a man doing the best he could. A man who had been robbed of his family. A man that was a good man, not the monster the world had made him out to be. In this moment, in the wrinkles around his eyes and the fluttering of his fingers as he struggled with the warring emotions inside of him, that was the man she saw.

With a sigh, she slowly walked over to him, meeting his eyes. Her hand dropped from her arm, coming inches away from resting on his shoulder before she pulled back, letting it rest by her side instead. “Why?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Why do you want me to stay?”

Frank looked at her, then. Really looked at her. His eyes searched hers, and he wondered to himself if he looked as desperate for her continued company as he felt. Even in this pain, even with the anger and their shared past thickening the air between them, he didn’t want to lose her. He couldn’t. It had been a choice he’d made - a few times over, as she had reminded him tonight - only out of necessity. A choice he had made to keep her safe, because he was sure she was safer away from him… and despite that nagging thought being ever-present at the back of his mind, Karen had just proven to him that she, like anyone and everyone else, was capable of finding trouble or straying from safety whether or not he was in the picture. Wouldn’t it be better t--. He shook his head away, looking away from her.

“To make sure you’re okay,” Was the response he settled on, hoping it would say enough.

Her heart dropped at his words. Not because it was bad, but because it wasn’t the answer she had wanted. Not really. She swallowed and ran her hands through her hair again, closing her eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath. “I’m fine.” she said, voice tight. She hated the waver that existed between the two syllables. “And even if I’m not, what then? I stay for now, you decide for yourself I’m fine, and then what? You disappear again?” She didn’t know that she could handle it again, the man in front of her becoming a ghost of her past again.

"Not if I can avoid it."

Even as he said them, he knew the words meant little. Karen had always seen it as avoidable, even with full knowledge of the dangers at hand. She had made the choice to stand by him, time and time again, eyes wide open. It was admirable and absolutely infuriating.

He sighed, running his hands over his head. "I'm really trying to turn things around, here, Karen. I'm not… I'm not there, yet, you know, but it's better. Things are… quiet."

She stared at him for a long moment. She wasn’t entirely sure what to think. He was trying to turn things around. Things were quiet. What did those words even mean when it came to Frank Castle? Slowly, each foot a deliberate step in front of her, she sat back down on the couch. A wince crossed her face as she put pressure on her wrist.

“I’ll stay for tonight.” She said after another pause. “We can talk about the rest tomorrow.”