#she should be learning to seize the day and STOP being anxious and trying to control everything

[doverstar]

in the final episode of the show, Vanessa tells Doofenshmirtz "you're basically a nice guy who's pretending to be evil" and it changes his entire view on his life. she points out it's not actually making him happier to be "evil". that end to his character is something I think about almost every week. Doof is such an unexpectedly-popular part of this zany cartoon and they chose to point out the most obvious thing about his character only in the last episode, and it makes you look at every rewatch differently with him. it's so great. it's great that Doofenshmirtz stops being evil at the end of Phineas and Ferb. growth is essential to characters. Candace had to grow, and Doof had to grow, and they were the true main characters of the show. the only ones who needed to learn, and they learned. and now in this new season they're choosing to retcon that for the sake of the formula? weak. weak. I hate that

[beifongsss]

firebending [zuko]

Pairing: Zuko x reader

Requested?: Yes! By a wonderful anon: “your zuko fics are all so well-written! I have a request for a firebender reader who hates the fire nation and was never trained in the art of fighting. then she/they join the gaang and learns firebending with aang from zuko. it’s awkward between them at first but cue ~ romance ~”

Summary: If someone told you that you’d end up dating the Fire Nation prince one day, you would’ve laughed in their face. If only you knew how right they were.

wc. ~5.2k

.masterlist.

~

When you first joined the Gaang, everyone expected you and Katara to hate each other. After all, you were from the Fire Nation and everybody knew Katara was the biggest anti-Fire Nation enthusiast there ever was.

They were quickly proven wrong when you didn’t fight against Katara’s harsh remarks, instead agreeing with them and even adding more scathing words of your own to show your distaste towards the Fire Nation. Since joining them, you never wore anything related to the Fire Nation. Nothing that is, with the exception of an elaborate hairpiece that your mother had left you. The hairpiece never left your body, the sunstone in the middle of it shining from its place on your head.

Escaping Ba Sing Se (and therefore the Earth Kingdom) had simultaneously been the best and worst thing that had happened to you. You were glad that Aang was alive, obviously, but being back in Fire Nation clothing was making you anxious.

Ever since the battle in the catacombs, you had been avoiding everyone. You had revealed your firebending in a panic, shooting a strong blast of fire at the banished prince as he snuck up on Katara. He had been taken off guard just long enough for you to subdue him before he realized that you didn’t know what you were doing.

There had been no time for Katara to question you after that. You had all fled and met up with her father, Hakoda, before seizing a Fire Nation ship to use as a disguise. As soon as you stepped foot on the ship, you had scrambled to an empty room and locked yourself inside. You had ignored Katara’s pleas for you to open the door, never once moving from your spot unless it was to use the bathroom or to get the tray of food that you knew had been placed at your door.

No one had known you were a firebender, and the initial shock eventually wore off as everyone found themselves missing your presence. It wasn’t until Aang woke up that you finally emerged.

~

“(Y/N)?” Sokka asked hesitantly, knocking softly on your door.

“Go away!” was the muffled reply that came from your room.

“Nope. I think Aang wants to see you.”

Sokka waited for a few seconds before the door swung open, reveling you standing there. You were wearing your Earth Kingdom clothes, trying to delay the inevitable. You looked up at him, making his heart hurt when he noticed the exhaustion in your eyes.

“Is he really awake?” you asked, your voice small. Sokka nodded.

“Hurry up and get changed. He’s on the deck.”

You nodded softly before closing the door. You opened it again a few minutes later, now dressed in red. As much as Sokka hated to admit it, you looked good in red. The Fire Nation was your home, after all. You followed him up to the deck, your finger nimbly twisting part of your hair into a knot big enough for your hairpiece.

“(Y/N)!” Aang yelled when you came into view. He launched himself at you and you caught him with a small “oof”. You giggled softly as you rubbed his head, making his hair stick up in all directions.

“Aang!” you cried in reply. “You have hair!”

Aang made a funny face at your words before fixing his hair. “Yeah, I guess I was out longer than I thought.”

You leaned down and swept the boy up into another hug, pulling him close as you held tears back. “I’m so glad you’re okay Aang. I don’t know what we would’ve done if you-”

“Don’t worry! Look at me, I’m fine!” Aang said, trying to make you feel better. He led you over to where everyone else was, Katara looking up and smiling softly as you glanced at her. “They also told me about your firebending! How come you never told us?’

You reeled back in shock, looking around wildly as everyone heard Aang’s word. When there were no negative reactions, you relaxed slightly.

“Everyone already knows huh?” you asked drily, being met with nods from everyone on board. You sighed and tapped your foot before speaking. “Okay, yes I’m a firebender. The reason I never told you guys is because I never wanted to use it. I was young when I fled and I never got a chance to learn anything other than the basics.”

Aang nodded in understanding. “But you could’ve built your skills that time we met Jeong Jeong.”

“No. After my family...” you trailed off, thinking about why you never became a master bender. Aang gave you an encouraging look and you breathed in deeply. “I promised myself I wouldn’t firebend ever again. Not after that.”

Aang nodded in understanding as you fell silent, thinking about your past. The Fire Nation was the reason why you had been all alone. They had killed your family with the weapon you now hated: firebending.

The silence engulfed the entire ship, everyone lost in their own thoughts. There was a peaceful atmosphere as the ship drifted along, but of course it didn’t last long.

Soon enough, you found yourself chasing after Aang, eventually being forced to hide in the Fire Nation as the Day Of Black Sun loomed closer and closer.

~

The promise that you had made to yourself to never firebend again was still intact. You hadn’t let any bursts of fire out, not even when you had found yourself surrounded by Fire Nation troops on the Day of Black Sun. The eclipse was a blessing to you, the brief eight minutes just long enough to make you feel normal.

Of course, you soon found yourselves fleeing to the Western Air Temple, silently mourning the loss the rest of the invasion army. Once you all settled in, you kept wearing the red top you had acquired in the Fire Nation. You don’t know why; it just brought you some type of comfort. Aang had grinned when he noticed, wondering if all your adventures in the Fire Nation had lessened your hatred towards the nation.

It had.

But not by much. Wearing the color red weighed heavily on your soul and you spent many of your waking hours debating whether or not keeping the red clothes was the right choice. It frustrated you to no end, how a simply piece of cloth could jumble your thoughts so easily. The red reminded you of the pain and grief you had experienced when you had lost your family, but in a twisted way it also reminded you of them. It reminded you of the days back when you still had them, back when you still had a home and you were happy. Deep down, you knew that you were Fire Nation but that knowledge didn’t stop your inner turmoil. And over the next few days, it only got worse with the arrival of a certain someone.

“Hello, Zuko here.”

You tried to hold back your groan, you really did. But it was as though the universe wanted to test you and had decided to do so by sending the Fire Nation prince your way. Zuko’s soft smile had dropped at your reaction, the corners of his lips quirking downward.

“Hey, I heard you guys flying around down there, so, I just thought I'd wait for you here,” he continued. Appa walked up to the prince and sniffed him before proceeding to lick him. Zuko’s face twisted up in disgust. “I know you must be surprised to see me here.”

"Not really,” Sokka said. “Since you've followed us all over the world!”

“Right,” Zuko said, wincing slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, uh, anyway, what I wanted to tell you about is that I've changed, and I, uh, I'm good now, and well I think I should join your group, oh, and I can teach firebending to you. See, I, uh-”

“You want to what now?” you asked sharply, exchanging a look with Katara.

“You can't possibly think that any of us would trust you, can you?” she asked, opening her water skin. “I mean, how stupid do you think we are?!”

Zuko’s eyes shifted to you before he answered. “You trust her. She’s a firebender.”

Your eyes widened in anger and you began to march up to the prince, only stopping when Katara held you back.

“I am not, a firebender,” you hissed, staring Zuko down. “And I am not Fire Nation.”

Zuko stayed quiet, his eyes drifting from your red shirt to the hairpiece on your head. You followed his line of sight, eyes widening when you realized he was staring at the sunstone. You yanked your arm out of Katara’s grip, angrily stomping out of the room. You quickly stripped yourself of your red top as soon as you were out of sight before sighing deeply and pulling your hairpiece out. You arrived at the sleeping chamber and sat down on your sleeping bag quietly, holding the hairpiece in your hand tightly.

You stared at it sadly, the sunstone glinting in the dim light. Without hesitation, you pulled your arm back and flung it away, watching the sunstone glint in the sunlight as it rolled towards the edge. It was gone in a second, tumbling over the edge of the temple.

Now you were truly no longer Fire Nation.

~

Your life had just gotten ten times harder now that Zuko had been allowed to join the group. The defeat of Combustion Man had been intense and you had found injured when it was all over. Unlike Sokka, you had never been good with fighting, always relying on your intelligence to get you out of dire situations. With Combustion Man however, that proved to be a problem, and you had found yourself caught in the middle of a fight with no protection whatsoever.

In addition to the pain of your injury, you found yourself dealing with the prince’s presence. You found yourself avoiding the group entirely, taking on the more tedious chores (like laundry) to avoid spending time with the group and even hanging out with Haru, Teo, and The Duke as they explored the temple.

Tensions didn’t rise until a few days later, beginning when Aang approached you with an idea. After your tragic failure with Combustion Man, Aang believed that you needed to learn how to protect yourself and he thought that the right way to do that was by learning how to firebend. You had vehemently refused, accidentally yelling at the Air Nomad as everyone else watched in silence.

The argument was put on pause for a few days when Aang and Zuko traveled to the Sun Warriors’ ruins but when they came back, Toph had sided with him as well. You felt slightly betrayed by the small earthbender but still refused, stating that there was no way you would willingly learn how to firebend. At least you still had Sokka and Katara on your side.

At least you did until Sokka and Zuko took a trip to The Boiling Rock the next day. When they got back two days later, Sokka was on Aang’s side as well. The fight with Azula on the gondola had left him shaken as he realized just how hard it was to fight a bender with just a sword. You didn’t know how to use a sword, but you could firebend and so Sokka became one of Aang’s supporters. Katara was the only one who was still on your side, but that changed when Azula raided the temple.

Everyone had been woken up suddenly, reacting a bit slower than normal as Azula appeared. She immediately lunged at you, shooting blasts of blue fire as she stalked closer to you. Your eyes were wide with fear, dodging her attacks as much as you could.

“Watch out!” Zuko yelled, tackling you from the side, a pillar crashing down where you had been standing as a result of Azula’s lightning. You grunted softly as you landed, the breath leaving your lungs as Zuko landed on top of you. You opened your eyes immediately, meeting bright gold irises before they looked away as Zuko began to scan you for any visible injuries. Zuko’s hands rested on either side of your head as he tried to keep his weight off of you, not that it helped considering you were still struggling to catch your breath.

Or maybe you were struggling to catch your breath because of how close he was.

“Are you okay?” Zuko asked, drawing your attention back to him. Scowling, you threw him off of you before scrambling to your feet, rushing to help Katara when you heard her yelp. Zuko noticed Toph earthbend a tunnel into the side of the temple, and rushed to join the others. His eyes landed on you as you threw yourself to the side, narrowly dodging another one of Azula’s deadly blasts. The princess grabbed you by the hair, laughing maniacally before dragging you to the airships.

“What are you doing?” Aang yelled, noticing that Zuko had stopped in his path.

“Azula has (Y/N)!” Zuko replied, turning around and facing the airships. “I’m gonna go get her.”

Katara rushed to Aang’s side, exchanging a worried look with him before getting on top of Appa. The rest of the Gaang joined them, holding on tight as they tried to maneuver the sky bison through all the debris. 

Zuko ran and launched himself onto the airship, landing safely on top of one. He glared at his sister, noticing that she was still holding onto you.

“Let her go, Azula!” Zuko yelled, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Hmm, I don’t think I will,” Azula replied, the blue flame in her palm growing brighter as she held it up to your face. “I think I’ll get rid of her instead. Then I’ll get rid of you. I can’t wait to celebrate being an only child.”

She inched the flame closer to your face, prompting Zuko to shoot a fire blast near her head. Growling, Azula tossed you to the side before confronting Zuko. The two siblings fought for a few minutes and you tried your best to avoid any wayward blasts. The fight stopped when they both struck at the same time, the resulting blast blowing both of them backwards.

“Zuko!” you cried, sprinting to grab the boy before he fell. You managed to grab onto his hand but his momentum sent you both tumbling into the chasm, a scream getting stuck in your throat as you plummeted. You were so overcome with fear that you didn’t notice Zuko pulling you into him, holding you close as you fell.

The fall didn’t last long, Appa managing to swoop in and save the two of you. You sat quietly on Appa’s saddle, both you and Zuko watching Azula as she kept falling.

“She’s...not gonna make it,” Zuko said softly, his arms tightening around you slightly. You watched with wide eyes as Azula used firebending to propel herself to the cliffside, sliding down a bit further before she took out her hairpin and stuck it into the side of the cliff, effectively ending her fall. “Of course she did.”

The seven of you sat in silence for a few minutes before Katara spoke up, tears in her eyes as she looked at you. “(Y/N), seeing Azula capture you got me thinking. I think...I think that you should learn how to firebend. You need to know how to defend yourself.”

“And I think that you can let go of each other now,” Sokka said cheekily, trying to diffuse the tension that had settled upon the group at Katara’s words. You shimmied out of Zuko’s hold, walking up to the Water Tribe girl and looking at her in disbelief.

“You’re supposed to be on my side Katara,” you hissed, flinching when she tried to reach for your hand. Without another words, you walked away and took Appa’s reins. The rest of the flight was silent, everybody knowing that now was not the time to be chatty.

~

Once again, you had retreated from the group. It wasn’t exactly hard considering the fact that now it was Katara and Zuko who had disappeared, gone on a quest to find her mother’s murderer. After a few days, Zuko reappeared alone and you found yourselves traveling to Ember Island.

Upon your arrival, you made your way over to Katara, who was standing quietly on the deck.

“I heard what you did,” you spoke first. “I’m glad you didn’t kill him.”

“I couldn’t bring myself to do it,” she whispered back, still looking straight ahead.

“Why?”

She turned slightly, facing you before speaking. “It’s not in my nature to kill. I couldn’t bring myself to use my bending for that. I have the chance to prevent other’s from going through what I went through; from going through what you went through. I want to use my bending for good.”

You mulled over her words for a few seconds before sighing deeply and walking away. Aang watched you quietly as he walked over to Katara, his eyes widening slightly when you walked up to Zuko.

“Ok,” you said quietly, looking up at the prince. “Teach me how to firebend.”

Zuko’s eyes widened briefly before he crossed his arms and composed himself. “Tomorrow at dawn. Be ready.”

And ready you were. Every day. Firebending was a lot easier than you expected, and you found yourself breezing though the basics and the intermediate moves. It wasn’t until you got to the advanced moves that you began to have some trouble.

“No!” Zuko barked. “That’s not how it’s done. Again!”

Your eye twitched before you took your stance again, launching yourself into the move that you were currently working on. You sighed deeply when you realized you had done it wrong again.

“Wrong. Again.”

“If you’re so good at it then come and show me,” you snapped, fed up with his attitude. Zuko straightened up before walking over to you, motioning for you to take your stance once more. You rolled your eyes, blowing the hair out of your eyes before complying.

“I will,” he said, moving your arms into the right position. He walked around you and you opened your mouth to make another comment, stopping when his hand came around from behind and gently shut your jaw. “Don’t say anything.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as he spoke. He was closer than you thought, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. You shivered when his hands landed on your back, fixing your posture before they made their way to your waist. He gripped your waist firmly, shifting you into position before leaning forwards slightly, whispering in your ear once more. “Do it again.”

Fighting a blush, you did as you were told. You chuckled breathlessly when you did it correctly this time, a blast of fire leaving your hand at the right moment.

“See? You did it,” Zuko said, a faint smirk on his lips. “You’re a natural.”

You bounced up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck in excitement. His arms immediately wrapped around your waist, enjoying the closeness of the hug. You leaned back slightly, meeting his eyes as you smiled cheesily. “It’s only because I have such a great teacher.”

The two of you walked back to the beach house, joking around after a long day of training. Upon entering the beach house, Katara pulled you aside. “(Y/N)! Thank goodness. I need your help in the kitchen!”

You gave Zuko an apologetic smile as you followed Katara, being met with an understanding nod as he went off on his own. Katara handed you a tray of cups, smirking slightly before speaking. “So, you and Zuko huh?”

“What? N-No,” you replied immediately.

“I’m talking about firebending. How’s that going?” Katara said, filling the cups with watermelon juice as she arched an eyebrow.

A bright blush spread across your cheeks as you realized what she was talking about. “O-Oh. It’s going great. Zuko’s been teaching me some advanced moves now!”

Katara hummed in reply, waving you away now that the cups were full. You headed out of the kitchen in a hurry, loosing your footing when you heard Katara speak yet again.

“I bet the next move he makes is gonna be on you.”

~

The conversation between you and Katara was basically forgotten as the days went by. 

Zuko had informed the Gaang about his father’s plan to destroy the Earth Kingdom, causing you all to worry greatly. In addition, Aang had disappeared overnight and all attempts to find him had been futile.

And that’s how you found yourselves following June and her shirshu as she led you to Ba Sing Se, where Zuko’s Uncle Iroh was supposed to be. You had been warmly welcomed by the Order of the White Lotus and Zuko and Iroh had made up, leaving you with only a day to plan out what you were going to do before Sozin’s comet arrived.

It was quickly decided that the Order of the White Lotus would stay behind and reclaim Ba Sing Se while Sokka, Suki, and Toph would set out to destroy the airship fleet. Zuko had asked you and Katara to join him in defeating Azula and although Katara had agreed immediately, you were a bit hesitant. Of course, Zuko noticed and he decided to confront you about it.

“(Y/N),” Zuko said, coming up to you when you were prepping Appa for the ride. Katara was a few yards away, giving the two of you privacy. You glanced at Zuko before climbing onto Appa’s saddle, the prince following closely behind you. “What’s wrong?”

“Zuko, I,” you paused, breathing deeply. “I shouldn’t go. I just started bending and what is something goes wrong? I don’t want to be a liability to y-”

“Hey,” Zuko whispered, ducking his head to make eye contact with you. “I meant what I said on Ember Island. You’re a natural. You’ll be fine.”

You sighed before hugging your knees to your chest. “I just can’t believe that I’m actually returning to the Fire Nation, even if it’s to help you reclaim your throne. I’m just glad that maybe under your rule, things might finally change.”

Zuko stayed quiet before standing up and reaching for his bag. He shuffled around for a moment before kneeling behind you, his fingers gently grabbing your hair.

“What are you-”

“Shh,” Zuko cut you off. “Give me a second.”

His fingers weaved through your hair, putting it up into a style you were all too familiar with. He was gentle with his actions, letting his hands fall to your shoulders when he was done. “There.”

You reached up, your fingers trembling slightly as they brushed over the sunstone that you had known your whole life.

“M-My hairpiece,” you gasped, tears springing to your eyes as you realized how much you had missed it. “How did you-”

“I found it at the Western Air Temple,” Zuko interrupted quietly. “It was after I came to you guys the first time. Katara sent me away and when I was walking under a balcony, it fell onto the ground. I recognized it so I picked it up. I assumed you would want it back at some point.”

Zuko fell backwards when you threw yourself at him, wrapping him up in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek. A tiny gasp escaped him and you pulled back, meeting his eyes as he stared down at you. The two of you stared at each other for a few tense seconds before you both leaned forwards rapidly, your lips meeting in the middle.

Maybe it was a spur of the moment decision, kissing Zuko. Maybe it was due to to the anxiety bubbling up in you, your emotions hard to control as you prepared to end of the war in one way or another. Or maybe, it was simply two teenagers too shy to tell each other how they felt, finally sharing a tender moment.

“So, are we ready to go?” Katara asked. The two of you sprung apart, blushes on both of your faces as the Water Tribe girl smirked at you. Zuko nodded and you looked away, taking your place at Appa’s reins.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Yip yip.”

~

The fight had been a blur to you. You didn’t remember much other than the fact that Zuko had taken a bolt of lightning meant for you. After Zuko had been injured, you and Katara had teamed up to take Azula down. She had challenged you to an Agni Kai after striking Zuko and you had accepted in order to lure her away from his body. To say she had been surprised when you actually fought back with fire was an understatement.

With Katara’s help, you managed to chain her to an old grate before rushing over to aid Zuko. After Katara had done all she could, you helped Zuko into the palace where he had been taken to the infirmary. You hadn’t seen him since.

You had however, met back up with Aang, Sokka, Toph, and Suki. They informed the two of you of what they had done and in turn you had told them about Zuko’s injury. They were all worried about him but after hearing that Katara had healed him, they were slightly relieved.

The next time you saw the prince was on the day of his coronation. Some of the palace guards had come for you, stating that Zuko was requesting your presence. You felt your heart jump into your throat as you nodded, allowing them to lead you through the palace until you came to a pair of gilded doors.

“He’s in there,” one of the guards said. “Would you like us to announce your arrival?”

“No, it’s fine. I can just knock,” you said meekly, causing the guards to smile amusedly. You bowed shortly to them before turning to face the door, gently knocking and waiting for a response.

“Come in!”

The door swung open at your touch and you awkwardly stepped inside, still standing near the doorway as your gaze landed on Zuko.

“Close it,” he said, his voice quiet yet rough. You complied, stepping aside and shutting the door before inching closer. He was shirtless, thick bandages covering his torso. Covering the new scar he had earned because of you. He turned around, his face softening when his eyes met yours.

“Hey,” he said softly, his eyes scanning you for injuries the way he did back when Azula raided the Western Air Temple.

“Hi, how are you?” you squeaked, shuffling awkwardly. You winced at your words, blushing in embarrassment as Zuko’s lips quirked up. He walked over to his bed before picking up the shirt he was going to wear.

“I’m fine. How are you?” he asked, a teasing smile on his lips as he began to put it on. His smile dropped as he moved too harshly, pain shooting through his torso as he struggled to pull the fabric on.

“Spirits! Be careful,” you said, all embarrassment leaving you as you rushed forwards and took the shirt from his hands. “Here, let me.”

You helped him slide one arm in before slipping it over his shoulders and guiding his other arm in as well. You grabbed the belt used to hold it in place before standing in front of him. Your breath caught in your throat as you eyed the bandages, guilt settling in your stomach as you softly placed a hand on his chest. Zuko’s hands automatically went to your waist, pulling you closer to him as he stared at you worriedly.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, still looking at his chest. “This was my fault.”

“Hey,” Zuko replied, one of hands leaving your waist to lift your chin. You shivered softly at the action, your eyes finally meeting his bright gold ones. “It wasn’t your fault. Azula shouldn’t have done it in the first place. She challenged me to an Agni Kai, not you.”

“You should’ve let it hit me,” you said, looking at him sadly. “I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if Katara hadn’t been there. Zuko, you could’ve d-”

Your eyes widened and your words died on your throat when Zuko leant down, softly pressing his lips to yours. The hand that was still on your waist wrapped around you, pulling you closer as Zuko kissed you gently. He began to pull away after a few seconds, noticing your lack of response. Mentally kicking yourself, you began to kiss back, closing your eyes as you wrapped your free arm around his neck to keep him close. Zuko couldn’t help but smile at your response.

“I took that hit because I love you, (Y/N),” Zuko whispered, finally pulling away and leaning his forehead against yours. “I couldn’t let Azula hurt you.”

“Zuko, I-I love you too,” you confessed, your eyes still closed. Suddenly, you pulled away before gently swatting his head. “But that doesn’t make what you did any less stupid.”

“Hey! I saved your life!” he exclaimed, rubbing his head.

“I know,” you said, rolling your eyes before hugging him close once again. “And I love you for it. But never, and I mean never, do that again.”

“No promises,” Zuko replied, guiding your lips to his once more. This kiss was different, full of trust and love and peace.

You pulled away reluctantly, fixing his shirt and looping the belt around him before taking his hand. “Now let’s go. You have a coronation to get to.”

Zuko stopped for a second, pulling you back to him as he looked at you uncertainly. You looked up at him curiously, prompting him to speak.

“Are you-” Zuko stopped abruptly, trying to get his thoughts in order. “Will you stay with me? Here? Even after everyone else leaves?”

You hesitated for a split second, remembering everything that you had suffered at the hands of the Fire Nation. You opened your mouth to reply, looking up to meet Zuko’s gaze. You faltered for a moment, taking in the way he was looking at you. Here in front of you stood the crown prince, the very symbol of the nation that you had spent the majority of your life hating. But he was also just a teen, and he was willing to put in the work to fix the Fire Nation’s past mistakes.

Your heart swelled in your chest as you thought about the golden-eyed boy , and everything he had done to help the Avatar. Because of him, the Fire Nation now had a chance at redemption, and you knew it wouldn’t be easy to undo centuries of imperialism and pain. Especially not when it was so deeply rooted in the nation. And so you answered his question, confident that you were making the right decision.

“Of course I’ll stay, Zuko. And I’ll be here to help you every step of the way.”

~

taglist!

@musicalkeys, @mywigglybaby​, @bubblebars​, @iguessthefloorislava​, @dekahg​, @boxofteenageideas​, @bottledcotscowater, @butterflycore​, @coldlilheart​, @the-firebender-girl​, @ajediherowitchrunner​, @lammello​, @astroninaaa​, @samsmultifandomblogs​, @sadskater25, @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak​, @duh-dobrik​

[flightfoot]

Friendship and Uncertainty

AO3 Thanks to @oblivionhold for betaing!

Marinette really didn't have a lot of great options in Prime Queen. She couldn't tell Nadja and her parents "Oh yeah, sorry, I double-booked myself as Ladybug, my bad! Guess my parents are gonna have to babysit instead!" And if she'd tried to make up an excuse about being busy, with how last-minute it was and how urgently Nadja needed childcare, I don't think her parents would've accepted it.

Her only viable alternative option would've been to cancel her interview with Nadja at the last-minute, citing some last-minute conflict with her civilian schedule. She could've transformed during a bathroom break, texted Chat, and told him as much, leaving him to interview with Nadja alone. I'd argue that this would've been the most responsible option, but not necessarily the best one. With how much the network was pressuring her, Nadja may have landed in hot water if she couldn't get one of her guests on, and Chat would've been disappointed as well.

The plan Marinette came up with in canon was her best shot at fulfilling all her responsibilities without anyone being mad or disappointed or hung out to dry. Manon got looked after by someone Marinette knew was a good babysitter, she got to go to the interview, and no one would have any clue things were remiss... at least, that was her plan. In canon, things got dicey for a bit with Alya calling into the show, but ultimately no one discovered Marinette had left the premises, and everyone was mostly happy.

But it was risky, and things could easily have gone wrong. Hence, this story.

It gives me a good reason to explore Alya feeling hurt and exploring her emotions while sticking closely to canon. There aren't a lot of fics that do that.

--------

“Where is she?” 

Alya looked down at Manon. Nadja was worried about Marinette not being in the picture when she called, and she couldn’t blame her. Bringing over a friend to help babysit as well, or taking over babysitting momentarily while the hired babysitter was busy was one thing, but this was getting ridiculous.

Marinette had seemed weirdly anxious about talking to her parents. She’d chalked it up to Marinette being nervous about whatever she’d needed to tell them, but…

She let out a frustrated sigh. Marinette hadn’t even told her why she needed to talk to them so urgently. It almost felt like she was making up an excuse to ditch her with Manon.

“Marinette wouldn’t do that,” Alya murmured to herself. “She’d tell me if she needed me to cover for her, right?”

But the thought wouldn’t leave her brain.

Manon yawned.

Gears turned in Alya’s head. “Hey Manon, before you fall asleep, how about we go downstairs so you can use the bathroom?”

“I’m not gonna fall asleep!” Manon said, yawning again. But she stood up shakily and headed for the stairs, following Alya.

-----

As Alya waited for Manon to finish in the bathroom near the kitchen, she heard a soft humming coming from the kitchen. Seizing on the opportunity, she hurried over (while keeping near enough that she could still hear when Manon opened the bathroom door).

“Ah, Alya!” Tom greeted her. “Did you kids need some snacks?”

“No, but-” Oh what the hell, why not? “Actually, that sounds great.”

“Anything for my daughter! And her friends of course,” he said, cheerily grabbing a few of hers and Marinette’s favorite cookies. 

“Speaking of Marinette, what’d she want to talk to you about?” she said, as casually as she could manage.

“She wanted to talk to me about something?” Tom asked, sounding perplexed.

“Maybe I just misheard her,” Alya said hastily. “I was playing with Manon and things got a little loud.”

Tom looked troubled. “Well, just let her know that if she needs to talk to me about anything, her papa is always willing to lend an ear.” She could almost see a lightbulb turn on above Tom’s head. “Oh! I’ve got a batch of Marinette’s favorite cookies in the oven right now! They should be ready in about twenty minutes. If you can send her down then, we can talk this out, see what’s troubling her! And if it was a mistake, well, I’ll never say no to watching her face when she bites into a strawberry macaron.”

Alya slapped on a smile. “Will do!”

The toilet flushed. 

“That’s my cue to leave. Thanks, Mr. Dupain!”

“Anytime!”

She walked to the bathroom on autopilot.

Marinette had lied.

------

“I’m so sorry Alya! I had no idea it would take so long to talk to my parents!” 

Alya didn’t look at her. “What did you guys talk about?” she asked tonelessly.

“Uh, you know… family stuff,” Marinette sounded nervous. 

Alya turned to her. “Marinette, I know you weren’t with your parents.”

“I- uh-”

“I went downstairs earlier and asked your dad what you two talked about, but he said he didn’t talk to you at all. Your dad wanted me to tell you that if you need to talk with him about anything, he’s willing to lend an ear. The batch of strawberry macarons he was making should be ready by now.” Her voice sounded dead, even to her own ears.

“Alya, I’m- I’m really sorry-”

She took a deep breath. “I’m not ready to talk with you about it right now,” she said evenly. “If I do, I might raise my voice, and I don’t want Manon to see us fighting.”

Marinette winced, glancing at the sleeping girl.

“Um… could we talk tomorrow…?” Marinette asked, sounding small. 

Alya nodded stiffly. Not like she could avoid it, tomorrow was a school day. 

As she headed down the ladder, she paused and looked up, “Oh, and Marinette?”

“Yes?”

“I didn’t let anyone know you left. I’m still not happy you ditched me, but I didn’t rat you out.”

Marinette’s eyes widened and she started to stammer something. Alya shut the hatch.

Alya squeezed her eyes tight, letting out a small sob.

At that last moment, she’d been tempted to stay. To hear Marinette out. To see whether maybe, maybe, she had a good explanation. Some sort of excuse.

But she couldn’t.

If she stayed, with Marinette looking at her like that, clearly hurting… she wouldn’t be able to stay mad at her. Not when she felt worse than Alya herself did.

Alya wasn’t ready to let go of her anger and hurt yet. Not so soon.

Pausing only to text Nora that she was heading home, she hurried out the door.

------

“Little sis?”

Alya quickly wiped her eyes, trying to compose herself before Nora saw her.

It didn’t work.

“What happened? Who hurt you?” Nora asked, grabbing her shoulders. 

“No one!”

Even to her own ears, it sounded false.

Nora frowned. “Really? Your eyes are red, and I can see the tear streaks on your cheeks. You really expect me to believe that?”

She looked away.

“Hey, look, little sis-” Nora said softly.

“Don’t call me that.” She couldn’t muster up the energy to put any heat behind her words. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Promise not to go after her?”

Nora blinked. “Her? ...wait, you were just at Baguette’s place- did something happen with Marinette?”

“Promise me,” she insisted.

Nora grimaced, before sighing. “Fiiiiine. Can I at least yell at her?”

“No. I want to handle this myself.”

“If you’re sure, little sis.”

Alya made a face, but explained what’d happened. How Marinette had called her over, ditched her with an excuse about her parents, how she’d learned Marinette was lying, everything.

“-and I just. I don’t understand why,” she finished. “I help her out all the time! Heck, I’ve even helped babysit Manon before! Why’d she lie to me?” She looked down at her lap, her fists tightening as she squeezed her pants legs, needing to get energy out. “I just- I feel used.”

Nora pulled her into a tight hug. She leaned into the pressure, listening to her sister’s heartbeat.

“Remember back in Martinique, with Maya?” Alya murmured.

“The neighbor girl?”

Alya nodded. “We played together a lot when I was a little. But sometimes… sometimes she’d get demanding, saying that if I didn’t do what she wanted - play some game she wanted, pick a role she wanted me to, whatever - she’d say that if I didn’t do it, she wouldn’t be friends with me anymore. There weren’t a lot of other kids my age in the area, so I agreed.” She gave a small smile. “Until one time she went too far. I stormed home in tears, scared that she wouldn’t play with me anymore, but not able to take it anymore.” Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, she continued. “You know what Mom did when she heard? When I told her how afraid I was that Maya wouldn’t want to play with me anymore? She told me to just wait. Less than an hour later Maya was knocking at the door, asking if I would come out to play. I stopped being afraid of her threat after that, and she stopped using it. I could say no.”

“I’m guessing this feels similar?” Nora said.

Alya nodded. “But it’s also weird! With Maya I understood what she was after. With Marinette, I don’t. Did she just really not want to babysit? Where’d she even go? And why-” Alya hesitated. “Why did she risk this? What was so important? Marinette, she- she doesn’t always think through other people’s feelings, but she DOES care about people! She doesn’t like hurting others! So why-”

Nora shook her head. “It’s no use speculating, you’ll just get your head turning ‘round and ‘round in circles ‘til you don’t know up from down. Just ask her tomorrow.”

Biting her lip, Alya sighed. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. I just don’t know how I’ll sleep tonight after all this.”

Nora smiled, pulling out a DVD from… okay she really wanted to know when Nora had hollowed out a copy of the Lord of the Rings trilogy collection, because on the one hand that was SUPER cool, and on the other hand it physically hurt her to see a book damaged like that. 

“I was saving this for your birthday,” Nora said, oblivious to Alya’s crisis, “But I think you need it now.”

She looked at the movie, letting out an inhumanly high-pitched squeal. “Majestia’s Early Days - Collector’s Edition?! How’d you even get this? I camped out on the website all day trying to snag a copy! They sold out in seconds,” she scowled, “Damn scalpers.”

Nora laughed. “Having fans can really come in handy. After one of my matches, I mentioned how bummed out my little sis was about not being able to get her hands on a copy. The next day one of my regular fans handed this to me, said he hoped you’d enjoy it.”

“If you see him again, tell him that he’s a wonderful person with excellent taste in boxers!”

Nora laughed, grinning from ear-to-ear. Alya bet her own grin dwarfed even Nora’s. 

“Let’s watch Majestia kick some ass.”

-----

“Alya? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” 

Nino lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve been staring down at the floor for the past minute, looking like your dogs just got kidnapped by subterranean monsters and you’re trying to figure out how to get them back and why they’d want them in the first place.”

She stifled a laugh. “You come up with that for one of your movie scripts?”

He adjusted his cap, grinning proudly. “No, but now that you mention it…”

“Do you even know anyone with a dog?”

“Maybe a shelter would help out? They’re always looking for more exposure. We could put a note during the credits that the pups are available for adoption!”

Hm… she could advertise their film on her blog too, maybe ask whether any of her readers worked at a local dog shelter…

“We could talk to Marinette, see whether she’d be up for making a monster costume! Or if she’s too busy, Halloween’s coming up and- Alya?”

She blinked, only just now noticing how tightly she’d been squeezing her shirt in her hands. “I’m- I’m fine.”

Nino frowned. “No, you’re not.”

She looked away. 

Nino slid into the seat next to her. “Look. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s clearly hurting you. If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand. If you just want to go back to talking about something unrelated to it, something fun, to keep your mind off it, I’m happy to oblige. But I’m always here to lend an ear if you need it.”

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Marinette called me over last night, wanted me to watch the Ladybug and Chat Noir interview with her. She also happened to be babysitting Manon, and thought it’d be more fun if we were all there together. Everything was fine at first,” she said, fidgeting. “I played around with Manon for a bit, Marinette got some pillows to lay on, and we got set up to watch the interview. Then Marinette said she needed to talk to her parents and that she might be gone for a while.”

She let out a humorless chuckle. “I waited for a while, but… no Marinette. Finally, I went downstairs and checked with her dad. He didn’t know anything about it. As far as he knew, she’d been upstairs in her room with me the entire time. Marinette came back a little while later, pretending that her talk with her parents had gone super long and I just… I couldn’t deal with it. I left. I said I’d talk with her about it today, but…”

“But you don’t feel ready now either?” Nino guessed.

She nodded. “I just keep on turning it around and around in my head. It doesn’t make sense. Sure, Marinette makes up excuses and disappears sometimes, but…” Something niggled in the back of her brain. “Hey Nino,” she asked carefully, trying to catch the strand of thought. “Has Marinette always been like this? Running off at a moment’s notice with fake-sounding reasons?”

Nino scratched his head. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “We’ve been in classes before, but we weren’t exactly close. I don’t think so? I think I would’ve noticed that. Not like we had akuma attacks distracting us last year.”

“Akuma attacks...” she murmured to herself.

There it was again. That niggling sensation, but even stronger this time. 

*Slam*

Marinette threw the classroom door open, pinwheeling her arms as she struggled to regain her balance. 

“AAAAAAH-”

At the last second as she fell backwards, Adrien seemed to almost teleport through the door, catching her.

Nino smiled. “I swear Adrien has a ‘Marinette falling’ sense. He always arrives just in time to catch her.”

Alya snorted. “Now if only he had a ‘Marinette feeling’ sense.”

Frowning, Alya tried to grasp onto the threads of thought from before, but they’d scampered with the distraction. 

“...Can I sit here?” a soft voice asked.

Alya jumped a little, then scolded herself. She’d just seen Marinette arrive, she shouldn’t be able to startle her less than a minute later.

Nino got up slowly, giving Marinette a hard look, but moving to his regular seat without comment.

Marinette didn’t move. 

Oh. Marinette was waiting for her permission, not just for Nino to leave.

“Sure. I mean, you sat here first,” Alya said. “I’m not the Queen of Seats.”

Marinette snorted at the reference, the edges of her mouth twitching upwards.

Alya narrowed her eyes. She hadn’t noticed before, but from this close, she could see the bags under eyes, along with a slight puffiness.

Guilt settled in her stomach. She was pretty sure she knew why Marinette wouldn’t have gotten enough sleep, why she would’ve been crying.

“But she broke my trust!” part of her screamed. “She lied to me, used me!”

She still didn’t like seeing her friend hurt.

“So?” She asked as Marinette slid into her seat.

“So what?” Marinette asked nervously.

Alya narrowed her eyes. 

Marinette bit her lip. “I- I’m not sure what to say. I- I lied to you. You’re right. I called you over because I’d accidentally double-booked myself, but I couldn’t just TELL Nadja that and I couldn’t cancel on no notice, so I just… came up with what I thought was the best solution. Manon would get taken care of, Nadja, Mom, and Dad wouldn’t know anything unusual had happened, and I’d be back before you noticed anything was wrong. Everyone would be happy! At least, that’s what I planned…” she petered off, looking away.

She could get what Marinette was thinking now, when she called her over. Sometimes you couldn’t do the things you wanted without disappointing someone, without someone being upset with you. But if you lined things up just right, you might not need to upset anyone - so long as they never found out what you’d done. 

It still stung that Alya had been the tool she used to solve her problem, but at least she understood Marinette’s thought process. 

“What was so important?” she asked. “What was so vital that you had to sneak out, even if it meant lying to your friends and family?”

Marinette flinched. “I- I have to,” she whispered. “I don’t have a choice.”

Alarm bells rang in Alya’s head. “What do you mean?” she said urgently. “Is someone threatening you? Marinette, are you in danger?”

“No!” She thought for a moment. “Yes? Kind of? Not- not the way you’re thinking of!” she added hastily.

She didn’t know what she was thinking. Drugs? Gangs? A cult that’d ensnared Marinette in its clutches?

“Can I have your attention please?” Ms. Bustier said.

Alya turned to the front of the class, head still spinning. She still wasn’t totally sure how she felt about what Marinette had done, but she had bigger worries.

Something was wrong with Marinette. 

-----

That girl could be slippery when she wanted to be. 

She managed to avoid talking to Alya for the rest of Bustier’s class, not responding to any note-passing and hurrying out of the classroom the second the bell rang. With Marinette going home for lunch she had little opportunity to talk to her then, and as for their next period… Alya may be brave, but she wasn’t stupid. No talking in Ms. Mendeleiv’s class.

With a sigh, she watched Marinette run out of Francois-Dupont, somehow managing to take the stairs two at a time without falling. Clearly whatever it was, Marinette didn’t want to talk about it. 

But if it was hurting her…

She shook her head. She’d been thinking about this all day. It was time to get her mind off it, do something else. 

Nodding, she turned towards the park. Maybe some time climbing trees would help take her mind off things. And if it didn’t, it’d at least give her practice catching her siblings when they inevitably got themselves stuck in some high-up area. She could swear they had teleportation skills that they’d been hiding their whole lives just to prank the rest of the family with.

Chuckling to herself, she almost missed the flash of red out of the corner of her eye.

She whipped around. “Ladybug?!” 

The superhero froze, looking caught out. “Alya!” she said, sounding strangled. “What’re you doing here?” 

She shrugged. “Just enjoying the weather,” she said, pulling out her phone. “Would you be up for another interview?”

Ladybug started shaking her head before she even finished the sentence. “No, NOPE, nada, absolutely not!” she said, making an “X” with her arms for emphasis. “Not after yesterday. Not happening.”

She stashed her phone. “You just want to talk off the record then?”

The superheroine’s eyes widened a fraction. She nodded. “There’s… there’s something I could use your advice on.”

Something fluttered in Alya’s chest. Her idol needed her help? “I’ll do what I can,” she said, more confidently than she felt.

After going to a secluded part of the park, Ladybug turned to her. “You know a lot about superheroes right? About how we have to maintain a double life?”

Alya nodded. “It’s a comic book staple. Often causes a lot of trouble for the hero, but not as much as having their identity leaked to the world.”

“Yeah, I know what that trouble’s like,” Ladybug muttered to herself. Speaking more loudly, she looked at Alya. “I- I messed up. Badly. I forgot that I’d-” She paused. “Sorry, I need to be careful about this. I don’t want to expose myself.”

Alya nodded. 

After a minute, Ladybug tried again. “I needed to do something as Ladybug, but as a civilian, I’d already agreed to another responsibility at the same time,” she said carefully. “I couldn’t tell anyone that I needed to do something Ladybug-related without spilling my secret identity, but I also couldn’t get out of my civilian responsibility so I- I tricked someone into doing it instead. And they found out and they’re mad at me and I can’t BLAME them but I can’t tell them everything and I just don’t know what to do!” She looked at Alya pleadingly.

Her stomach twisted. “Seems to be a lot of deception going on lately,” she muttered, surprising even herself with how bitter she sounded. She blinked as Ladybug winced. 

Stop projecting your feelings about the sleepover onto Ladybug’s situation, they’re not the same! She scolded herself.

What would she do in Ladybug’s shoes? She couldn’t tell anyone her identity. She’d still want to be friends with this person. Just heaping on lies would make it worse when those came to light, alienating the friend (or former friend) even further.

“Have you explained as much as you could why you did it without giving away your secret identity?” Alya asked slowly. “Just… let them know that you do care about them, that you didn’t lie to them lightly, that you care about your feelings and you didn’t have a lot of options.” Ah, screw it. Maybe it was just because it’d been recent and she was still hurting and worried, but perhaps hearing it would help Ladybug with her own friend problems. “One of my friends recently tricked me into covering for her,” she said. “I’m still not sure why.”

“O-oh, really?” Ladybug said… nervously? Probably because it reminded her of her own friend.

“She vaguely explained to me why,” she continued. “What she was thinking and feeling at the time. She had another commitment too, but she didn’t tell me what it was.” She let out a deep sigh. “At least she didn’t lie about it - I think. I’d rather she not tell me, than lie about it.” A pebble sat near her shoe. Absentmindedly, she kicked it. “With how distraught she was when she explained it... I think she was sincere. That she doesn’t view me as a tool. That she was just in a tough spot,” she said. “That helps a lot.”

“I- I did explain,” Ladybug said, hope lifting her voice. “I think she believed me.”

Alya nodded. “In that case… I don’t think there’s much more you can do. Give her space, and try to avoid doing it again if you can.” She bit her lip. “Which might not be totally under your control considering Hawkbutt.” 

Ladybug stifled a giggle. 

She gave a small smile, snorting at her own joke. “Anyway, could I ask you a favor? So long as you don’t have any other commitments already, I don’t want to land you in hot water with anyone else,” she added hastily.

“Nothing to do with the Ladyblog, right?” Ladybug asked suspiciously.

As much as she’d like that… “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Actually, it has to do with a friend of mine. You know Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

“Uh- NOPE never heard that name in my life! Who’s Marinette?” Ladybug said hastily, gesticulating wildly.

Huh. Weird. She could’ve sworn that Marinette had mentioned meeting Ladybug before, but come to think of it, she couldn’t remember a single instance of Marinette and Ladybug being in the same place at the same time-

Never mind, there was that time with Alix’s race. But if that was the only time, no wonder Ladybug didn’t remember her. She wasn’t even sure that anyone had said Marinette’s name while Ladybug was within earshot.

Aaaaaand there was that niggling sensation again. She wished it’d either divulge what it was getting at or leave her alone. 

She whipped out her phone, pulling up a picture she and Marinette had taken together a couple months ago. “Marinette’s my best friend,” she said, surprising herself with how sure she sounded. “We’re going through a bit of a rough patch right now, but… well, I’m still worried about her. She was the one who lied to me yesterday, and when I confronted her about it, she said something about not having a choice. It sounds like she’s in danger but she won’t tell me from what, and I’m not sure what could be the problem and… I’m just worried.” Looking up from her phone, she locked eyes with the superhero. “Could you check up on her, please? Maybe she’d talk to you even if she wouldn’t talk to me. And- and even if she doesn’t, I’d feel better if a superhero was looking out for her.”

“You really care about her, huh?,” Ladybug said, giving her a soft smile. “Even though you’re fighting.”

She nodded. “I’m not happy with her, and there are some things we still need to work out, but- yeah. I want to make sure she’s okay.”

“You’re a good friend, Alya. I’m sure she’s fine, but I’ll look after her as best I can.”

“Buginette?” a boy’s voice called. A black figure landed next to Ladybug, crouched in the classic superhero landing pose, one knee bent, one hand punching the ground.

Oooh, new Ladyblog idea! Top ten Chat Noir poses! Seriously, that cat could be a model with the way he effortlessly mugged for the camera.

Ladybug groaned. “Did I forget the time already?” 

“It’s fine,” Chat said, resting his stick on his shoulders. “Waiting made seeing you all the sweeter.”

The spotted heroine groaned again, for a different reason this time. Alya saw the corners of her lips quirk upwards ever-so-slightly, belying her annoyance. “Come on, you alley cat. Race you to the Tower!”

“Oh, you’re on!” 

Alya watched them run off. Well, pole vault and swing off, but you know. Semantics.

Turning around, she headed back home.

She had an article to write.

-----

Alya hummed as she walked into class, glancing at her phone. The Chat article had been a major hit, garnering several dozen comments within a few hours of posting, including from a user called “TheCatsMeow” who seemed weirdly invested in convincing everyone that Chat definitely had no experience modeling and his on-point posing was entirely due to natural talent and charisma. People picked the weirdest hills to die on. She’d been joking when she proposed that he was secretly a supermodel, but after having defended the possibility in a ten-commment-long exchange, she was starting to seriously consider it. Hm, maybe Adrien would have an idea of a possible identity lead…

“Oooof!”

“Augh!”

Note to self: Don’t walk while looking at your phone. Sure she never listened when Mom told her that, but maybe this time she’d have the self-control to hold off! Optimism!

“Sorry,” she said instinctively. And blinked. “Marinette? You’re EARLY?!”

She should text her mom to buy a lottery ticket.

“Yeah,” Marinette said, chuckling nervously. She seemed to be in much better shape this time. A little down, but it looked like she’d gotten some decent sleep. “I- I just thought- if you wanted to talk- never mind. You need space.”

Suspicions percolated in her mind. “I should go to the restroom before class starts. How about you?”

Marinette’s head whipped up. “Yeah, sure, better to be safe than sorry. You know me, always needing to race to the toilet!” She rubbed the back of her neck.

“Every other akuma attack it seems like,” Alya said, walking down the hallway with her friend. “I swear, something about it being an inconvenient time makes you need to go even more.”

“Yep, that’s totally the reason!” Marinette agreed.

They walked for a moment in silence while she tried to gather her thoughts. “You know about my advice to Ladybug, don’t you?” she said at last.

“Ack-!” Marinette tripped on air, but managed to save herself at the last second. “Uh, no, that’s ridiculous, how could I know about that? It’s not like I was there or anything.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Uh huh. And it’s pure coincidence that you concluded I needed space the day after I gave that advice to Ladybug to help with her own friend problem?”

“Uuuuuh…” Marinette looked off to the side, before releasing a long sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. Ladybug talked to me last night, and well… your conversation came up. I figured our problems were similar enough, and you were the one giving the advice, so… maybe if I followed it, we could make up?”

Marinette wanted to go back to normal, to laugh and joke and just.. enjoy each other’s company again. And Alya… she wanted that too. 

She knew Marinette hadn’t meant to hurt her. And she understood why Marinette had done what she’d done. 

Well, except for what prompted Marinette to need to lie in the first place. She just had a gut feeling it was a cult, some sort of secret society. She was sure Miraculous had been around for awhile, that several historical figures had used them, and she could just bet that there was some sort of secret group watching over them from the shadows. She just needed a thread to follow, something that could lead her back to the guardians-

NOT THE TIME, BRAIN.

Abruptly, she stopped. “I- I want that too,” she said softly. “I don’t like fighting. I want my friend back.” She gave Marinette a hard look. “If Ladybug told you my advice, then you already know what I’m about to say. I don’t like being lied to - not like that. Not as part of a manipulation. You had your reasons, I get that, but I don’t think I could take that a second time. Unless someone’s in danger if you don’t, please, don’t lie to me. If you can’t tell me something or why you’re asking me to do a thing, just tell me that. I can’t promise to like it, but it’s better than being tricked.”

Marinette bit her lip and nodded. “I think- yeah. Yeah, I can do that,” she said, gaining confidence.

Alya smiled. “In that case…” she took off. “Race you to the bathrooms!”

“Hey, no running in the halls!” Marinette said, but her laughter undercut her words. As did her immediately overtaking Alya.

Girl could move fast when she wanted to.

------

(Several months later)

“And I… I’m Ladybug”

“This makes everything make so much more sense.”

[ilomilodailystuff]

If You Love Me || Sylki Fanfic

...really love me

Loki x Sylvie fanfiction

[LOKI FINALE SPOILERS]

dt @entertainmentforgods

(every mean comments about this ship will be deleted. If you don't like this ship, please just ignore.)

They did it, it was over. The impossible had come true.

Their heart beating wildly, the anguish of their uncertainty gradually fades as they understand the finality of it all.

Loki and Sylvie had joined forces to destroy the true mastermind of the TVA. The overpowered individual who pulled the strings behind the curtain.

The Goddess of Mischief dropped her bloodstained sword on the dark ground, making a loud metallic sound. He Who Remains had just gave his last breath.

Sylvie took a deep breath while staring at the inert body of the one who called himself The Conqueror. As Loki stood behind her, he watched her worriedly. She had just accomplished what she had fought for all her life. So many years feeding a justified anger towards one man, for it turned out that the Time Keepers were nothing but a sham. So many years of hiding, of surviving in the midst of so many apocalypses instead of just living fearlessly. Instead of living happily, instead of laughing, smiling, dancing, singing, enjoying the present moment, observing the universe and its many wonders without them being destroyed around her, loving and being loved in return... All of that was taken away from her, because The Ruler had decided to do so. Because only one man had made the decision to sacrifice her timeline and her family and those she loved. She had lost everything as a child, because a human had condemned her existence.

And now, the latter had just died. He had lived millions of lives, and the last had just ended, killed by the vengeful hand of an innocent orphan.

Slowly, Loki moved closer to her as he kept his eyes on her. Then when he was right behind her, he gently took her hand to try to get her out of her torpor. Her face turned to him as her gaze was drawn to the ground. She was still trying to regulate her breathing and realize the previous events.

"Come with me…" He half-murmurs, his blue eyes tinted with green watching his partner's reaction carefully, anxious to see her breaking down despite her strength to contain her emotions.

It was then that she nodded softly, still too absorbed by this decisive moment in her life. Sylvie turns to him with the intention of following him, no matter where he wanted to take her.

A few seconds later, both found themselves outside the entrance to the Citadel.

Loki went down the few steps, before sitting quietly on one of them. His teammate was not far away and she watched him get comfortable, while thousands of thoughts jostled in her mind. Curious, Loki brought his attention to her. When their eyes met, she began her steps to him to sit beside him on the step.

A deep sigh escaped her lips as she sat down comfortably, her eyes fixed in front of her, finally noticing the awe-inspiring beauty of the sacred timeline they both would have admired sooner if it were in a less disastrous context. But now as they ran after time, it was as if it has just stopped.

The variants observed this painting before them, this masterpiece born from space and the end of the universe. For a moment, a pleasant silence rocked them in a surreal dream. Their eyes shine brightly, illuminated by the cosmos and time materialised in a perfectly fluid and sparkling line. But also, their intense feelings took over and tears had formed.

Hesitant but at the same time strangely confident, Loki turned to Sylvie, only able to imagine how she felt now.

"You're okay ?" He dares to ask softly.

Suffering of an internal conflict, Sylvie keeps her eyes wide open and try to look indifferent.

"I accomplished my mission, how do you think I feel ?" She replies naturally, almost on the defensive.

"Relieved ?"

"Yeah, among other things." She confirms with obviousness.

Amused by her slightly aggressive responses which, according to him, are what make her what she is, the god of mischief ends up stretching a tender smirk, realizing that this tone will never leave her no matter the situations in which they find themselves, as dramatic and catastrophic as they may be.

Innocently, Sylvie ends up looking at her partner.

"Why do you smile ?" She asks.

He smiles a little more.

"The real question is... why don’t you ?" Loki retorts, eyebrows raised.

The Enchantress raised her eyebrows in turn, that desperate, lonely look that makes her charm appearing on her face. What to answer to that? She had learned that Loki was insightful about her, but she wasn't used to being the center of attention that much.

"Why seek answers to trivial questions." She asks rhetorically as she looks away from him.

After a while, Loki also turned away, dissatisfied with her answer but still preferring to let go.

"So this is it..." He starts. "It's done."

"It's done." Sylvie asserts, nodding her head a little.

His eyes going here and there, Odin's son was asking himself lots of questions. Including one in particular.

"What do we do now ?" He wonders, seeming lost.

Sylvie took a deep breath again, ignoring like him the future of events.

"Should we go back to the TVA ?" Loki continues, bringing his gaze back to the one person he trusted.

"Why ?" She asks softly. "They don't need us anymore."

"But we don't have to hide." He responds with a comforting smile. "We are their allies."

"Is that what you want, to go back to the TVA ? But to do what ?" She asks again, looking into his eyes.

He thought for a moment, trying to unravel this enigmatic knot, stepping into the unknown.

"The Sacred Timeline is free" He said, emphasizing the first words in an exaggerated and caricatural way. "Maybe once we get there, we can look for another timeline where we can... fit in ?"

A silence took hold of them, leaving for only words the looks they exchanged.

Sylvie then ends up lowering her gaze in the direction of her own hands, revealing between her fingers the object that the Conqueror kept around his hand. The tempad.

"How about we take a break, until one of us finds a place to go ?" She offers softly, lost in thought as she doesn't take her eyes off the object.

"What, here ?" Loki asks, uncertain and surprised by her answer.

"Why not..?" She replies, her eyebrows raised, her mind being elsewhere. "When you've seen thousands of apocalypses, The Void isn't as bad as it seems."

Loki takes the time to consider this idea, thinking about everything else. The members of the TVA, the sacred timeline that has become completely independent, the very few people to which he is attached. They had just accomplished something huge, should they just ignore the multitudes of consequences their act caused ?

"It's over, Loki." Sylvie said, looking up at him.

Again, his gaze plunged deeply into her eyes

"We did what we had to do." She continues, looking serene.

"What if they still need us ?" He asks, referring to the TVA, specifically Mobius and hunter B-15, the only two people who believed in them and offered their precious help.

Sylvie watched the sacred timeline as it gradually divided, and she sighed.

"I am tired." She admits, ignoring Loki's question. "And you ?"

Loki admired the many timelines that continued to split, before taking a deep breath.

"Yes, me too..." He answers softly, releasing his breath, releasing the pressure he had been holding since his arrival at the TVA and which he hadn't known he had kept in him all this time until now.

However, he couldn't shake off his negative thoughts and all his apprehensions about the completion of their mission and the impact it will have on the trillions of people the universe can create. The god of mischief had, against all odds, developed a conscience and a moral code. Yes, they had delivered the world by giving it back its free will. But for some reason that he didn't quite understand, he began to doubt.

And buried into his torment, Sylvie brought a comforting hand to his.

Loki laid his eyes on this delicate hand, yet belonging to that of a warrior, his heart missing a beat at the gentle contact of the one he had become crazy about. In this moment of complexity, in this major turning point for the multiverse, he almost forgot his feelings. He almost forgot the way they looked at each other in the Citadel as they walked into the darkness. He almost forgot the moment she had gripped his hand in the Void, in front of Alioth, hoping to help him unleash his enchantment powers.

Suddenly caught up in his emotions, he looked up uncertainly in the direction of his partner. Then, she gave him a brief smile, but oh so genuine. The same smile she had given him on Lamentis, while everything around them was death and destruction. Apparently everything was written. But he decided to ignore this detail that the conqueror had shared with too much pride.

Still confused by these unusual feelings, Loki returned that affectionate and heartwarming smile. Only, looking into her expressive eyes - but in the greatest secret, a loving gaze- he realized that the very thing he wanted above all now was to never leave her again. To stay by her side, as long as possible, even forever, better than that : beyond death. His desires made him all the more nervous. He never thought he would be so consumed by his moods, let alone by a loving emotion that possesses him more and more after each day he spends in her company. Nevertheless he wanted to seize this desire and make it come true.

This time, it is the TVA that he forgets, it is the universe that he neglect, it is the time that he ignores.

It is his glorious purpose that he gave up, because he found a new one...

"Sylvie..." He said, drunk with love for her. "I..."

"No, Loki, wait." Sylvie interrupts him, being totally lost and frightened at the same time. "I have to tell you something..."

"Yes ?" He asks, innocent, patient, in love.

She looked at him intensely, trying to express herself. Something seemed to upset her. Loki was trying to read into her eyes, to read her face, when no word could break the barrier of her lips. Disturbed by this confession, it turned out that it was getting stuck between the walls of her throat.

So the Prince of Asgard frowned, intrigued by the torture she was inflicting on herself through this mysterious revelation.

"I..." She starts before her lips instantly seal.

She took a deep breath, bracing herself for another attempt, as Loki's piercing, loving gaze dug into her pupils until it consumed her whole being.

When finally, in complete disarray, she ends up throwing herself at his neck.

Her lips crashed against his, tenderly, passionately but mostly timidly. Surprised but more than grateful for this proof of unexpected love, Loki was not long in returning her kiss with just as much fervor.

Sylvie had never been attached to anyone. She never wanted to be weak because of her feelings. She would never have dedicated herself to someone body and soul, for trusting and breaking down the imposing and solid walls she had built around her was inconceivable. And yet, faced with the many selfless acts of the one who had irrupted into her plan, she had found herself giving him importance. She hated knowing that she was only considering trusting him. She hated the fact that he could climb these walls she had locked herself between.

Worse yet, she was terrified to find herself reaching out to help him climb.

Eyes closed, they kissed each other with fragility, embarrassed to feel such intense emotions but oh how much they surrendered to them.

Sitting side by side, they relished this moment of sincerity and calm after all they had endured. The highlight of their journey. The completion of a battle for freedom, the same cause that the rightful king of Asgard fought against to make it inaccessible to the people of the earth. This cause that he finally chose to defend ; for him at the beginning, but for her on the way, and for the others at the end of their fight.

Slowly, they parted. Loki then dared to rest his forehead tenderly against hers. They kept their eyes closed, as if to immortalized this moment in their memories, for who knows what might happen to them tomorrow.

That's why he whispered these few words :

"You're right, I... I'm a little tired..." He admitted again hesitantly, unsettled by this moment of pure sincerity.

Keeping her forehead against his, Sylvie nodded gently, not daring to open her eyes to face the truth she still had trouble swallowing.

"Let's stay here..." Loki continues.

"Only for a little while." She continues nervously, muttering her desires like him, probably too afraid that someone will hear them or too embarrassed to admit she is weak in front of him, while he is weak in front of her.

"Yes, after all... If something goes wrong, they know where to find us, right ?" He responds with a raised eyebrow as he still kept his eyes closed, trying to reassure himself by making excuses to stay.

"Yeah, of course, nothing prevents Mobius from coming back here." She confirmed casually.

"Well, unless... Unless he had to prune himself." He said worriedly. "But it’s not as if we have no way to reach them !" He adds anyway, optimistic and trying not to feel guilty.

“Yes ! We have the--” She mimics his optimism, as she pulls away from his forehead to observe the object in her free hand.

"T-the tempad..." He confirms by muttering and nodding his head, bringing in turn his attention to the latter.

The taste of her lips was still too present on Loki's for him to think properly. However, he was trying.

Shyly, he finally looked at her again, a quiet smile displayed on his face.

Of course, Sylvie had noticed it. How to ignore him ? So, embarrassed, she gave him an uncertain look, having no idea how they should react now. After all, despite their thousand years of life, the variants had never really been devoted to feelings or romance that seemed more than superfluous and unnecessary at the time. Although they were aware of their emotions, repressed or not, knowing how to react to them was still an area to be explored.

The landscape around them gradually brought her back to reality. Then, looking worried, she turned her gaze to the entrance to the Citadel. She remembered the corpse of the He Who Remains, the one who had wiped out her timeline and certainly thousands more.

Loki frowned, noticing the change in expression on his partner's face.

"Are you sure you’re okay ?" He asks once more with patience.

Lost in thought, Sylvie continued to look at the place where everything had changed with a blank stare.

"No..." she sighs slowly.

The god of mischief was envious to possess the complicated mind of his variant for the sole purpose of finding the source of her ill-being. It would be enough for him to touch her to enchant her, now that he knows the secrets of enchantment. However, would he dare ? He hesitated for a fraction of a second, before totally rejecting the idea away from him. He was incapable of defying her trust, for he knew full well that he would risk a lot if he tried. Especially since he was still cruelly lacking in experience concerning enchantments.

"But when I wake up tomorrow knowing that the one responsible for all this horror is only a memory, then I could savor every second of my life." She asserts returning her attention to Loki as if nothing had happened, speaking with confidence and lightness.

Perplexed but somewhat reassured, he just nodded briefly, straining to accept her answer. However, something in him told him that she wasn't being entirely truthful.

"...Glorious purpose." He said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Mh..." She only answers, a quiet smirk nestling in the corner of her lips.

Calm eventually took over. Neither of them spoke, only watching the story of trillions of lives forming before their eyes in those many fluorescent lines.

"We're not leaving." He speaks up, his statement sounding more like a question mark.

"We're not leaving." She repeats with a little more conviction than him.

Slowly, he finally took a light breath, before sighing in contentment.

After an extremely difficult journey that could have cost them their lives, even though the Ruler had decided that they would be spared so that they could both achieve their goal, they were going to be able to rest, they were going to be able to breathe. Because even if the gods have more ability than humans to resist fatigue and pain, they could do nothing before the effervescence of their emotions. And as tough as they could be, they were tired, mentally and physically.

Thereupon, on this mutual agreement, the two variants had decided that it was time for them to rest for a while. They didn’t know what they were going to do. But they had decided to figure this out…

Together.

[thebakingqueen5]

KW 2021: Tease

Day 6 for Kataang Week 2021 hosted by @kataang-week with the prompt Tease!

I might have stuffed up the use of this word and its definition in context but shhhh it’s fine and this is cute.

Links: FF.net | AO3

Summary: Another year, another summer, another week of prompts celebrating our favorite couple. Kataang Week 2021 Day 6. Tease (verb): gently pull or comb (tangled wool, hair, etc.) into separate strands. Aka the take on the “tease” prompt that no one (not even me) expected.

Word Count: 1.8K

It had been a tiring, tension-filled day.

The war ended five, maybe six months prior, and the four nations were still partaking in the grueling process of learning to work together after a century’s worth of fighting. Considering that a group of teenagers were the reason there was any hope of amity in the first place, it came as little surprise that most of the pressure to arrange and facilitate treaties and peace talks fell on the Gaang, much to their chagrin.

And so here they were, utterly exhausted after a long day of trying to convince the Earth King and Zuko that violence was, in fact, bad, and stressed out of their minds, aching for a distraction.

It certainly didn’t help that tonight, of all nights, Katara’s long, dark hair was refusing to cooperate despite her having just stepped out of the shower a mere 10 minutes past. No matter how many times she ran the whalebone comb through her thick locks, nothing seemed to help, and her patience was quickly dissipating.

“Spirits, Zuko and Kuei are going to drive me absolutely crazy, sweetie.” Aang ranted as he entered her room, closing the door shut behind him as he made wild gestures with his hands.

“They’re both so… stubborn! And self-righteous and it’s getting us nowhere!” he huffed in frustration. “I wish they could just- oh.”

The airbender immediately faltered, finally noticing the appearance, or rather the clothing, of his girlfriend seated in front of a square mirror, nightgown riding quite high up her thigh.

“Sorry,” he blushed, eyes darting around the room to look anywhere, absolutely anywhere except at her to keep what little modesty they had left between them. “I didn’t know you had already showered and changed- I really should have knocked.”

Katara rolled her eyes, a slight pink tint rising to her cheeks as she returned to the task at hand: attempting to tame the lion’s mane she called her hair resting atop her head at that very moment.

“It’s fine, Aang,” she laughed, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. “No need to be embarrassed, really. Besides, it’s nothing you haven’t already seen.”

The waterbender snuck a quick glance at her boyfriend, and, quite frankly, she wasn’t sure he could get any redder if he tried. A tomato would have been jealous of the vibrant hue of Aang’s face, and he couldn’t stop staring at the floor, gaze entirely focused on the wooden boards beneath him.

The boy remained silent, and guilt began to fill Katara’s stomach.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” she frowned, standing up. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I can go change if you want-”

Aang instantly looked up from the ground, quick to clarify his thoughts. “No, sweetie. It’s not that! It’s just- you look absolutely beautiful, and I don’t want me subconsciously staring at you to make you feel uncomfortable or uneasy around me.”

Katara’s eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise, and she patted a spot on the edge of the mattress, beckoning for him to come sit near her before turning back and glaring at herself in the mirror.

“Believe me, sweetie, there is very little you can do to make me feel uncomfortable around you. Honestly, it’s a bit of a compliment knowing that’s how I seem in your eyes,” she said shyly.

The airbender grinned and walked up to her. Feeling a little emboldened, he tenderly wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to her cheek, chin barely reaching an inch above her shoulder.

“You could be wearing a potato sack and you’d still be the most beautiful woman in the world to me,” he murmured as his stormy eyes met her cerulean ones through the mirror.

“Really?” she raised an eyebrow and gestured to the mess on her head. “Even with this bird’s nest?”

“Always,” Aang smiled earnestly. “Speaking of, though, do you need some help with that?”

“I appreciate the offer, Aang, but I’ve been trying for the last half hour now and you aren’t exactly the most experienced with hair.”

“Well, maybe a new perspective is just what you need.”

He gently pulled her back towards the mattress a few feet away from the dresser with the mirror and sat her down in front of him. Rolling her eyes, the waterbender handed him her comb, but he simply cast it aside, instead using his nimble fingers to work through the knots and tangles in her hair.

Katara was right- he did have minimal experience with hair, not having much of his own, but he often played with hers when they spent time together. He knew what relaxed her and what didn't, which gave him the perfect means to seize this opportunity and prove her wrong, while also, of course, helping the two unwind and spend some time with one another.

The waterbender had already been quite frustrated when she had started working through her hair, and her movements had reflected that. She was stressed and antsy, and she combed harshly and roughly, only compressing the knotted hair to the end of the strand and making it harder to get out. Between that and the day she had, she had been close to tears and Aang’s gentle touch was just what she needed.

Much of Aang’s stress had been alleviated when he had entered the room earlier in simply being able to see and embrace his girlfriend. Because of this, he was able to take his time and the change of pace was nice for the both of them.

He worked slowly and methodically, fingers lightly massaging the top of her scalp before moving down to dampen and separate her wavy tresses into individual strips of hair with the help of some waterbending. He took care to not tug too hard on any one strand, having heard many a horror story from Katara in the past with her unable to tolerate anyone else handling her sensitive locks. The airbender was determined to make it a pleasant experience for the both of them, and it was.

In fact, Katara had been mildly shocked by the sheer love and effort she felt Aang direct into detangling her hair. It was sweet seeing him put so much energy towards trying something new just to help her, and the tension in her mind that had been knotted up began to unravel as well.

“Halfway,” Aang whispered, breaking her out of her thoughts. His gaze was still intense and focused on her unruly strands as she sighed softly and leaned ever so slightly back into him.

“I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” she murmured back. She closed her eyes as Aang’s rhythmic yet feathery touches to her scalp soothed her and then gave herself a quick look in the mirror through her peripheral vision- her hair was already looking a lot better and far more tame than it had been 15 minutes ago.

“That’s alright, just have a little more faith in your amazing boyfriend next time, yeah?” he winked with a smile, hands moving the hair he had untangled to the front as he directed his concentration to the last section.

This section was by far going to be the hardest-  most of the strands were embedded into a few large and messy knots creating quite a complex network. Nevertheless, Aang was up to the challenge. He began humming an old Air Nomad folk tune, one of the many they’d perform at Yangchen’s Festival, causing Katara to hum along with him as he spread apart the last few unruly waves of hair.

After finishing, he steadily ran his fingers through her hair like a comb, taking extra care to caress the nape of her neck and back of her head as she sighed happily, and gave it one last sweep with the whale-bone comb.

“All done,” he said, tucking a lock behind her ear when she turned around to face him.

The waterbender beamed before lightly pushing him down on the bed as they both sank into the mattress.

“I take it you enjoyed it?” Aang laughed, looking up at her.

“Very much so,” Katara responded. She then carefully angled herself so that she was lying pressed up against Aang’s side, head resting in the crook of his neck.

“It was pretty relaxing for me too,” Aang blushed. “You know I love playing with your hair and this just kinda took it to another level. I’d be happy to do it for you in the future if you ever find yourself fighting with that comb again, that is.”

“I’d like that, Aang. A lot,” she smiled shyly. “It was great to just… unwind. Have you there with me and just relax. I was basically about to cry when you came in and you just melted all my worries away with those magical hands of yours.”

The airbender chuckled, snaking his arm around her shoulders and leaning his head against hers. “Glad to hear it, sweetie. It’s getting late though, and we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Time for some rest?”

Katara wordlessly nodded, sighing and closing her eyes as Aang did the same and blew out the candles lighting up the room.

“Thank you for this, sweetie. I love you.”

“I love you too, Tara. Good night.”

The two were taken away into the dream realm, but an unspoken custom was crafted that night. It became a ritual, a way for both of them to calm down and escape the high stress levels of their everyday lives.

When Katara found her dad kissing Malina and it felt like her whole world was crumbling down around her, Aang had snuck into her room that night and combed and plaited her hair until they drifted off into each other’s arms.

When Aang had confided in the waterbender about feeling anxious and insecure about becoming a new father after she had informed him of her pregnancy, Katara had shown up to the stables with a comb and some apples for Appa in tow. The two ended up assuaging each other’s concerns while leaning back against the fluffy bison, much to their attention-seeking flying lemur’s annoyance.

Whether they were stressing over not being able to find an old book from the Southern Water Tribe after moving to Air Temple Island or had just come home after a near-death experience with the most dangerous bloodbender in the world, one of the two would always sit the stressed one down and grab a comb.

It never became a chore or something they dreaded; it was almost a secret love language for the couple. It was a way of reminding each other that no matter what was going on in their lives, they would always find time for each other and help one another. It pulled Aang and Katara out of some of their lowest, darkest moments, and it only accentuated their highs.

Such a simple, pure act born out of nothing but love and a desire to help- it should’ve been insignificant, a one-time thing, but it became so much more. To Katara and Aang, it meant the world.

[ficforce]

Apples and Oranges Part 1

Konro x Reader x Obi SFW (this part)

“Are you sure about this, Konro?” He caught her looking at herself in the mirror again and smiled before heading over and wrapping his arms around her middle, pressing kisses to the side of her neck as their eyes met in the reflection, “I won’t be upset, I swear…” He had been watching her for most of the day, the moment she seemed to realise what day it was she seemed on edge, he had watched her fumble with the hairpins and drop them multiple times whilst trying to do the twins hair. She had been restless, cleaning everything in sight and fussing over the girls far more than usual, her finger and thumb caught her earring to turn it distractedly every time he saw her, “Y/N,” Konro caught her wrist gently and pulled it away, he knew her well enough to see the signs she was getting anxious and it was the last thing he wanted for her, “I’m sure, if you are, it’s not the first time we’ve had someone join us.” Konro had to wonder at her nervousness. “This is the first time another man has joined us, Kon, before it’s just been other women,” she felt him shrug and then he turned her around to hold her close, “I don’t want you to think I want someone else more than I want you, you’re more than enough for me -” His hands came up to cup her face so that he could look her in the eye, “You don’t have to explain anything to me.” Konro brushed his lips to hers, his eyes closed as he savoured her closeness to him and he almost wanted to call it off, “Do you feel like you’re not enough when we’re with those other women?” This was something she wanted though and he wanted to give it to her, “When I’m making another woman moan under me while you watch?”

“No…” she mumbled, “It gets me kinda hot,” Konro always made sure she knew he loved her, even as he was thrusting into their playmate for the night he somehow made her feel like she was his whole world with a simple look. They adored each other and their relationship was solid, it had been like that ever since they were young, and it wasn’t that they felt they were lacking something in their sex life but that they enjoyed the occasional threesome. This would be the first time they would invite another man to join them and Y/N could feel her stomach doing flips - what if she wasn’t attractive enough to him and he refused?

Konro could tempt nearly any woman they wanted with relative ease. “And don’t forget that we actually know this person, it’s not a nameless visitor to Asakusa that we’ll likely never see again… I don’t want to ruin your friendship because you take his head off in a jealous rage.” Konro kissed her nose, “Since when have I ever gotten jealous?” “Last week you knocked that guy through the window because he whistled at me, there was the time you broke someone’s fingers for touching me, that punk from block seven pissed himself he was so scared - oh, then that time when I turned twenty-five and you nearly burned down the bar because I was being flirted with.” She counted them off on her fingers and then she let out a delighted squeal when he tickled her sides to stop her recounting his less than best moments with her. “I’m not gonna hurt Obi unless you want me to.” When he had first seen her look at Obi he had felt that spike of jealousy seize him, the man had still been a stranger in Asakusa and for Y/N to see him and for Konro to witness the way her pupils dilated and her teeth scrape over her bottom lip… it had made him a little mad. Then he got to know the Captain of the 8th, got to see that he was a good man and come to respect him, that made the second time he caught Y/N looking at him a bit more bearable and Konro had asked her if she wanted Obi. Of course, she had denied it and Konro had had to calm her down so that she knew he wasn’t accusing her of anything. It had been his idea for them to seduce Obi and he had invited the Captain to visit Asakusa for the fireworks festival. “Let’s see how it goes and if you’re still unsure,” he found her hands and gave them a squeeze, “We’ll enjoy each other instead.” Y/N smiled up at him and let out a relieved breath, “When did you get so wise?” “Nah, I’m still the same dumb punk who tripped over his own feet at the sight of you.” Obi had arrived in Asakusa mid-afternoon and he was frisked immediately by Hinata and Hikage for candy, the twins nearly had him face-first in the dirt as they went through his pockets before finally finding the treats he had brought them. Benimaru barely got out of their way as they ran past him, “They’re real excited about the festival,” he sighed, “You still alive?” Benimaru helped Obi get off his knees and called Y/N’s name to let her know that their guest was there, “She’s gonna get you geared up for tonight, can’t have you looking like you’re from the Empire for this kinda thing.” Obi patted down his knees and gave a half-grin, “Thanks for the invite,” Benimaru shrugged one shoulder and then he grumbled a little when he felt Y/N ruffle his hair as she appeared behind him, it was her way of telling him to be nicer to others and he crossed his arms with a huff, Obi gave her a little nod when their eyes met, he stood a little taller and his chest puffed out, “Long time no see, Y/N, I hear you’re looking after me.” She could feel her stomach fluttering and tried to squash it down, “There’s a guest room all set up and I picked a few Yukatas I thought might suit you.” Y/N’s fingers interlocked and she told herself to relax, “Ready to look the part of a proper Asakusian man?” “I appreciate the trouble.” Obi followed her through to his room, pointedly keeping his eyes off of her figure and telling himself to concentrate on his breathing instead; she had a habit of getting him excited. “Oh, this is nice!” There was a large futon set out and he noticed a separate room with an en-suite, “I wouldn’t have minded bunking with everyone else, I’m not that important you need to give me my own bathroom… “ “You’re an invited guest, Obi, we’re gonna give you the full hospitality you deserve,” she picked up a black yukata and held it up to his chest, “Too dark… navy would really suit you but that’s Konro’s colour for tonight, if you wear the same it’ll make it look like I have two bodyguards.” The thought made her laugh and she picked up another yukata, this one was a beautiful, rich chocolate colour with strong white lines about the bottom hem, “This one

goes with your eyes, what do you think?” Obi had been a little distracted by the way her hand had been stroking over his chest as she smoothed the cotton over him, “I… I don’t think my eyes are as nice as this - you think it looks good?” He rubbed the back of his head and cleared his throat a little at her compliment, he had to remind himself that she was Konro’s girlfriend and not to flirt with her. Y/N spotted the light flush on his cheeks and barely suppressed bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement, “I think you’ll look handsome, maybe you’ll attract a few of the girls out tonight.” Y/N folded the robe neatly and placed it to the side, “Do you have a girlfriend, Captain?” “No girlfriend.” “Boyfriend? I don’t mind,” her head tilted a little and she continued to force herself to be still as she waited, it would be worth knowing if she was wasting her time. Obi laughed a little and shook his head, “No boyfriend either. Just me, Y/N. You think I should look for a partner whilst I’m here? I suppose I’m getting on a bit.” “You’re still a baby!” she gave his arm a little punch and her breath hitched at how solid the muscle beneath was, “A really… strong baby.” “He’s the same age as you, Y/N” They both looked up as Konro entered the room and Y/N was quick to go to him, her arms curling around one of his before tiptoeing a little to kiss his cheek, Konro could feel the slight tremble in her and smiled, “Glad you could make it, Obi.” They caught up a little on work and then Y/N was eager to show Konro what she had chosen for the other, he approved of the colour but softened his gaze as he noticed his lover begin to fidget with her earring again, Konro decided to change the plan a little for her sake, “You should come to our room before the festival begins for a few drinks, call it a warm-up for the chaos later - some people are already drunk.” The Captain of the 8th gave a nod, “Y/N can make sure you look proper too.” Once he had agreed they left Obi to relax a little. Y/N leaned into Konro and he wondered, again if she was having second thoughts. They headed for their room and she let out an almost shaky exhale as she sat down on the cushion by their small table, “I… I don’t think I can do this, Kon. You’re the only man I’ve ever been with and I’m so nervous I could be sick!” His arms went around her and his hand stroked down her back soothingly, there was a satisfaction in the way she relaxed against him, Konro enjoyed how she took comfort in his warmth and the way he made her feel so secure, “I’m worried I won’t like it. That it’ll feel too different and then it’ll get awkward and… “ “I’m confident that Obi most likely knows what he’s doing. He’s a big guy but he’s soft, you’ve seen how he is with the kids and he’s not the kind of guy who would take advantage of someone. Just see how you feel throughout the night and if you don’t want to then it’s no skin off my nose.” She’d always had a habit of working herself up, part of the reason Konro had learned to be more patient and think before he acted was because he wanted to support her, she wasn’t a coward by any means and she gave as good as she got but sometimes Y/N got anxious and doubted herself. He had learned early on that she needed him to listen and offer a little encouragement. It was rare she ever asked him for something and he knew it had taken a lot for her to admit that she found Obi attractive and would like to play with him sometime, anyone else and Konro might not have liked the idea so much but he trusted Obi and considered him a friend. “Just don’t go too mad on the sake, if you or him get too drunk then I’m not letting anything happen, got it? I want you to be certain before leaping into anything.” Y/N nodded at his firm warning and asked him to help her pick out something to wear. — - Obi arrived an hour before they were due to head out and he blamed the alcohol for the flush on his cheeks as Y/N fussed with the collar of his Yukata, her fingertips brushed over his bare neck and along his collarbone as she made sure it sat right,

with her being so close he could smell the perfume on her skin and he unconsciously held his breath when their chests pressed together for her to reach the back of the collar. He had glanced nervously at Konro but the man either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the proximity as he poured another round of sake, Obi’s gaze was caught by the red kanzashi hairpin decorating her hair and without thinking he reached for it, noticing that it was coming loose and not wanting it to be damaged, he brushed some of her hair from her cheek and made sure the pin was secure. Their eyes met and they both froze as electric ran up their spines - the Captain wondered if her lips were as soft as they looked… What was he thinking?! This was his friend’s long-time partner. Obi put a little distance between them and grabbed his cup of sake, he was oblivious to the shared look between Y/N and Konro as the Lieutenant raised his eyebrows at her. Obi sat down cross-legged and let Konro fill his cup once more, they were ready but as with most things, Y/N was taking a little longer to get ready. It was then that Obi noticed her playing with her earring and swirling her sake around in the cup a little, at first he thought she was concentrated on picking a pair of geta to wear but she wasn’t particularly focussed on anything, he had seen her play with her earring a few times and he figured it must be a nervous habit so he leaned in to whisper to Konro, “Is Y/N okay?” “Hmm?” Konro made a show of looking at her with concern, seeing a new opportunity he nodded, “She doesn’t like when the streets get too crowded, she’s probably working herself up. Help me out a little tonight, stay close to her and if things get a little busy don’t be afraid to get her somewhere quiet.” It wasn’t a complete lie, Y/N didn’t like crowds but she was capable of getting herself out of one, maybe with his permission for Obi to put his hands on her if needed, it might push things along a little. “I didn’t think Y/N would be an anxious person… she always seems so prepared and level headed.” The woman was capable of getting Shinra and Arthur to behave whilst at the same time putting Benimaru and the twins in their place without an issue, “That’s… kinda cute…” Obi’s eyes widened and he straightened up, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud and he hadn’t expected Konro to smirk and nod in agreement. He didn’t seem angry about it - more proud that Obi had noticed something nice about his girlfriend. “Uh… I meant that, you know… I’ll keep an eye on her.” “Appreciate it.” Finally, Y/N seemed to be ready and the three headed out toward the centre of town, already it was a sea of people and the streets were noisy with vendors offering food and drink. Obi smiled as he spotted Hinata and Hikage up ahead with Benimaru, the other Captain was in his regular clothing whilst the little girls sported flowery kimonos, he held one hand with each girl and they were squealing happily as they played with their sparklers. Obi felt Y/N lean into his side and he tensed at the feel of her body against his arm, it was an innocent gesture and he silently scolded himself after she explained that Benimaru was on duty but the girls wanted him to enjoy the festival with them. Her warmth lingered even after she took Konro’s arm again, leaning up to his ear the same way she had to him just a second ago to speak - it made sense she had to get so close for him to hear her over the crowd. There were several more incidents where she had pressed against him and the man had barely caught himself from placing his hand on her waist to keep her there, at one point Konro offered to grab them all a drink and Obi was left alone with Y/N. “Are you okay, Captain?” “Ah, yeah… you know you don’t have to be so formal with me. It’s not like I’m on duty or your Captain.” He felt his face flush again as she stepped closer to him, his hand rested on the small of her back and he brought her against him, the crowd had gotten a little thick and he’d been conscious she could be knocked; another innocent move that made him

feel oddly warm, “I don’t mind if you call me ‘Obi’ or… I mean, well, uh… everyone’s on first name basis it seems so ‘Akitaru’ would be fine too.” Y/N’s hold tightened a little around his arm and she smiled up at him, “Okay then, Akitaru, you need to loosen up a little too - you’re kind of tense. It’s a festival! When Kon gets back we’ll see how good you are at some of the games!” It turned out that Obi was pretty good at the games, he got really into some of them and Y/N swallowed hard as he rolled his sleeves up to his shoulders, he was fitting right in with the rowdy atmosphere and she wasn’t surprised when Konro stepped in and obliterated Obi’s high score on one of the games… he never was one to be shown up in front of her. It was nice to have the attention of two men, they were similar in height and build, both kind too but she saw them as individuals. Obi wasn’t Konro and she could never compare them. Apples and Oranges. At some point, Y/N found herself alone in the crowd and she called Konro’s name out in hopes he was close by, she could hear his reply from a little way off and she raised her arm so that he would spot her. Everyone was heading towards their favourite spots to view the fireworks and they had been separated in the thick of it. An arm went around her middle and Y/N found herself lifted off her feet and away to a side street away from the sea of people, “I didn’t think there would be a surge like this.” Obi watched the rush and looked down at her. “It’s nearly time for the main event so they’re not thinking…” Y/N inhaled sharply as she realised how close their faces were when she tilted her face up, he had picked up like a princess and her hand had accidentally slipped just inside his yukata onto bare skin, he was warm and his heartbeat against her hand harder than she thought it should be. Y/N’s breath caught enough that it took her a moment to force her words out, “Y-you can put me down now if you like, I’m probably heavy, right?” “You don’t weigh a thing,” his skin tingled where her hand rested and he knew she was aware of the contact but he didn’t know if she was feeling it the same way as he was,, “I should get you back to Konro…” Her fingertips traced along his collarbone and up his throat lightly, “He told you to look after me, right? I’m sure Konro knows I’m safe with you,” leaning in just so, she brushed her lips to his and Obi jerked his head back in shock, he’d nearly dropped her then and there. “Y/N!” Obi placed her on her feet gently and cleared his throat as he stepped back uncomfortably, he looked up and down the alley with a panicked expression, had she drank too much? “If you weren’t with Konro then I would kiss you in a second but… he’s my friend, Y/N, I…” Obi’s hands fisted and he tried to keep calm, “Come on, let’s get out of here and forget about this…” She had to be drunk, he would put it down to that and he would pretend that he hadn’t felt a thrill of electric when their lips had touched, he gestured for her to head out before him but then he noticed the tall, broad figure ahead. He glanced back at Y/N and he noticed she looked suddenly nervous, her hands clasped together and she seemed to be holding her breath. Konro walked toward them and he noticed Obi straighten up so stiff he looked ready to snap, as the Lieutenant approached Obi took a step back and Konro snorted before letting out a chuckle, “I think we better give him a clue, Y/N,” He reached for her and she tucked herself into his side shyly, “Listen, Obi,” Konro saw the Captain flinch, “Y/N has a bit of a crush on you and part of the reason for inviting you was to see if maybe you wanted to join us for some fun.” “…You want me…” He was kind of relieved that Konro wasn’t going to beat him to death but at the same time kind of dumbfounded, “I uh, well, is, is this-” “We like the occasional threesome.” Y/N answered quickly, her cheeks were hot and she was finding it hard to look at the other in the eye, “It’s just that you’d be the first man we ever invited…” She felt Konro give her a light push and she

stepped up to Obi, her hands rested on his belt and she looked up at him through her lashes, “I would really like it if you’d play with us, Akitaru.” Obi was still tense as he looked over at Konro, the man didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered and gave him a small nod. A tug at his waist brought his gaze back to Y/N and she tiptoed up as she leaned against him, the Captain would be lying if he said he didn’t want to. He gave one more hesitant look over to Konro before bending down to press a soft kiss to her waiting mouth, he felt a little awkward with her lover just a few feet away and pulled away before he really started. Y/N smiled softly at him before she took his hand and began pulling him away toward the street, “Let’s go watch the fireworks a little,” she grabbed Konro’s hand too and lead them out, “There’s no pressure, Akitaru, if you don’t feel right about it then we can still enjoy the festival.”

[arcadian-asgardian]

Rescue from Jerusalem

A very late gift from the Christmas Winter Whumperland exchange 2017 (😅) for the gracious and ever-patient @collapse-and-comfort​!

Also available on Ao3

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed I

Tags: Gen, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Altaïr/Maria, Malik, OC Villain, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Fever, + 1 x bonus fanart

Summary: After Altaïr mysteriously vanishes whilst on a mission in Jerusalem, Maria Thorpe sets out for the city, determined to find him and bring him home. But it seems the hand of an old enemy is still at play, and Maria is horrified by what has become of Altaïr when she finally discovers him.

Words: 5,997

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It had been more than a week since Altaïr was last heard from.

Maria Thorpe crouched on the sandy rooftop, her blades ready at her wrists and fingers itching with worry and anticipation. Below her, a group of Crusader guardsmen were dragging several figures through the shaded alleyway towards the building she had come to infiltrate. It was too dark to see the victims’ properly, but Maria could hear frightened whimpers and sniffling from underneath the bags that covered their faces. As they reached the building, the doorway was unlocked from the inside by two more guards, and the prisoners were ushered roughly inside. Straining closer, Maria thought she heard a voice with an unusual accent - something European, but unfamiliar - but then the door was slammed shut. Even from the rooftop, the clank of the key in the lock and thump as the door was barred from the inside were clear to hear. She would not get in this way.

Cursing, Maria retreated from the edge of the rooftop. What now? Perhaps she should return to the Bureau and seek Malik’s advice. Two days had passed since they had arrived in Jerusalem from Masyaf, having ridden as quickly as their horses could manage, fear for Altaïr’s safety spurring them on. That made it a total of nine days since Altaïr had vanished. The first morning in the city, they hastened straight to the Bureau to question the new rafiq. He knew little of Altaïr’s mission - only that it was in some way connected with the Knights Hospitalier, and with one of Altaïr’s previous Templar targets - Garnier de Naplouse. Altaïr had rested at the Bureau when not out investigating, and then one day had not returned. That gave the rafiq little cause for alarm, but when several days had passed and Altaïr neither appeared nor was there any talk in the city of the hooded man or any suspicious deaths, he had become worried and sent word to Maria and Malik at Masyaf. The following two days were spent scouring the city for clues to Altaïr’s whereabouts.

Maria crept over to her bags and reached inside for the map Malik had found in the Bureau’s archives. Mingling with the people, she had soon learned that something - though it was not clear precisely what - was going on in this fairly innocuous-seeming compound. Disappearances, they had said. Those who went in never seen again. And occasionally, some swore, screams. She shuddered.

The map detailed the layout of the building and the surrounding streets. With frustration, she marked a cross against the entrance in the alleyway below her. Access from the ground would not be possible. She could enter via the roof, but archers patrolled it at all hours of the day - to take them out without alerting the guards inside would be difficult.

She frowned. There was no simple option. This would need cunning, resourcefulness, and all of her skills as an assassin. She placed the map back into her bag and shouldered it, and then began to quietly clamber back down the side of the building to the deserted city streets. As she climbed, a plan began to form in the back of her mind.

*             *             *

“Assassin! Heretic!”

Maria almost laughed as she sprinted ahead of the Saracen guards, dodging and weaving expertly through the crowds in the direction of the compound. These men were faster than many she’d encountered - not quite the typical middle-aged ex-soliders, invalided back from war and just looking for an easy living, that she was used to - but they weren’t as fast as her. Her feet pounded the dirt as she began to approach her target. The guards, a small group, were about twenty paces behind her, though she was widening the distance with every second. She had to be careful not to lose them until the exact correct moment.

She rounded the corner with the agility of a wild gazelle, and the main entrance to the compound suddenly loomed in front of her. There were four guards on the gate, wearing unmarked armour yet still unmistakably Crusaders. She hoped the men pursuing her would be an even match for them.

She dashed past the door guards before they properly had a chance to register her, though a faint cry of “Another assassin!” reached her ears as she darted off down a side alley. She heard the metallic slice of swords being drawn, but then- just as she’d hoped: cries of alarm and Saracen shouts, followed by the clashing of blades and the sound of a struggle. She didn’t stop, fearing that one or two of the group wouldn’t have taken the distraction and could still be chasing her. Instead, she sprung sideways, leaping nimbly up a pile of crates that had been left against the outer wall, grabbing the closest window ledge and beginning to haul herself rapidly upwards. She heard more yells coming from above as she ascended - the archers on the roof running to join the fight. This was her chance.

As she reached the rooftop, she paused, trying to figure out exactly where each man was from the sound alone. There were curses and the panicked sound of arrows being knocked to bows, all coming from her right side. Dangling from the roof edge, she carefully shimmied her way around a corner in the building, the ground far below her, and then peeked her head over the parapet. They were all distracted, facing away from her. Good.

Close to silently, she lifted herself up and then quickly slunk her way over to the centre of the roof where the access hatch was, watching the archers warily the whole way. They were too preoccupied with the fight - which seemed to be going badly for the poor Saracen soldiers - to notice as she lifted the hatch and dropped noiselessly inside.

Inside the building was considerably darker than the sunny streets had been, and far quieter too. Maria paused as her eyes adjusted, relying on her other senses to assess the situation. The air was heavy and smelt… well, frankly, foul, not unlike the scent from the slaughterhouses behind the butcher’s market, but mixed with all manner of strange herbal and spiced aromas. There was little detectable movement in the air, so the building had to be well and truly sealed off from the outside. As the darkness ebbed away, she realised she was standing in a storeroom, surrounded by shelves of bottles, jars and odd-looking equipment. Altaïr wasn’t here. In the distance, the sound of the fight she’d started seemed to be petering out. She couldn’t hear anyone in the rest of the building, but it was still best to be cautious.

As she crept through the maze of rooms, her heart began to pound and her stomach grew more and more anxious as the buildings’ secrets were revealed. The place wasn’t as unoccupied as she’d assumed. Everywhere there were beds and raised tables, and on these lay the sorriest forms of humanity she’d ever encountered. Most were drenched in filthy bandages, many stained with blood, and their skin as grey and loose as the tatters of cloth. A few looked up as she passed, their sunken eyes pleading, but Maria regretfully had to push on past them. Occasional cries of anguish echoed out from hidden corners.

She needed to find Altaïr. Her worry for him had tripled now that she saw what horrors had been occurring here.

She went to round another corner but stopped sharply as a tall figure passed immediately in front of her. Pressing herself flat against the wall, she held her breath as the man walked unknowingly past, and then stopped at the end of the corridor. He turned to inspect the contents of a cabinet, and Maria got a first decent look at his face.

She knew this man from her Templar days. His name was Baldwin de Carreo. He was an associate of Garnier de Naplouse, and also a member of the Knights Hospitalier, though not, she believed, a Templar himself. She had never personally interacted with the man, but from what she had overheard, he was devoted student of de Naplouse’s, and tended to the doctor’s work with a zeal and eagerness that was known to put even the other Templars on edge. The doctor’s death at the hands of the Assassin Order - at the hands of her beloved, in fact - probably only pushed him further in that evil, twisted fanaticism. She could well understand why Altaïr would have considered even rumours of the man’s presence in the Holy Land to be an urgent concern worth dealing with personally. Now, it seemed, it was up to her to deal with him.

De Carreo turned and continued along the corridor, still unaware of Maria’s presence. Slowly, Maria peeled away from the wall and began to stalk him through the space, crouching low, like a leopard fixed on its prey. Suddenly he stopped. She froze. He didn’t turn around, but his head cocked slightly to the side. Had he heard her? Should she attack now, while there was still perhaps a chance to catch him unawares? He outweighed her, and was taller, broader, and likely at least a decently skilled fighter. A scuffle between them might alert the other guards, or he could call for help. Maria had only seconds to make a decision.

She sensed de Carreo begin to turn towards her, and seized her chance. She leapt forward, swiftly grabbing his nearest arm and twisting it high against his back, then used the leverage to drag him closer, forcing him to bend his knees. He tried to struggle but her hidden blade flashed quickly to his throat. That stilled him. He seemed surprised at first but the shock on his face was quickly replaced with a sinister confidence.

“Where is the assassin?” Maria growled at his ear.

“Assassin?” he began to chuckle, but the noise became strangled as Maria squeezed her blade tighter against his throat. “I don’t know what you mean. None of my patients is a killer.”

“A man in a hood,” she pressed. “With a blade, just like this. Altaïr.”

“And if I tell you, you will let me live?” de Carreo asked.

“I don’t see that you deserve to.”

“How so?” he said.

Maria scoffed. “What you’re doing here is unholy. You are torturing innocents!”

“I am trying to help mankind!” responded de Carreo, his voice suddenly full of anger. “To advance the understanding of healing, to save countless lives in the future! That a few lives should be sacrificed for the good of the world is surely something you Assassins understand.”

Maria paused, her blade still held against his throat.

“Your ‘brother’ was equally ignorant,” de Carreo added, with a twisted smile.

Fury filled Maria. She tightened her grip on his arm. “Where. Is. He?” she repeated.

“If I may not bargain for my life, I do not see why I should help you,” he said casually.

“Very well,” replied Maria darkly, and then she dug her blade into the flesh of his throat and drew it sharply to the side, ripping through the tissue and sending a cascade of red hot blood spilling to the ground. De Carreo made a strangled cry and clutched at the wound, sinking to his knees as she let him go, but his hands could do nothing to stem the flow and he soon folded to the ground into the puddle of his own blood, the light quickly fading from his wide eyes. He twitched a few times, and then was still.

Maria regarded his body coldly, with nothing but stern conviction in her heart. Then she shook herself and returned to the search. She peered into every room as she passed, hoping, pleading, to find her beloved in one of them. Panic was beginning to set in. She had to find Altaïr soon, before the guards discovered either her or de Carreo’s body, or this would all have been for nothing. Where was he? She entered an alcove, and was suddenly greeted with a sight that both filled her with relief and horror.

Altaïr lay limply on top of the table. His wrists and ankles were bound with coarse strips of leather, so tight that she could see sharp cuts in the red, raw skin around each restraint. His eyes were closed but as she stepped closer she could make out the shaky rise and fall of his chest, and breathed a sigh of relief. Alive. She gently swept the hair from his sweaty forehead and cupped his face. “Altaïr? Can you hear me?” His eyelids fluttered in response but remained closed. At his side, however, his fist clenched and he began to pull against the restraints. Quickly, Maria cut each of the bonds with her hidden blade and laced her fingers in his, squeezing his hand tenderly. “I’m here. It’s me, it’s Maria. Oh, my love,” her voice cracked. “What have they done to you?”

From outside there came a muffled voice. Maria froze. One of the guards from the gate was walking towards the room, calling back to someone else in the building. She could hear each heavy footstep thudding closer and closer. Altaïr mumbled something faintly. She squeezed his hand again, silently begging him not to rouse now, not when they were at their most vulnerable. The guard was getting closer. If she killed him, the others would soon wonder where he had gone and she could not move Altaïr in time to avoid a confrontation. But suddenly there was a cry of pain from another part of the building, and then the sound of the guard’s footsteps fading away as he went to investigate that instead. Maria exhaled shakily. They needed to leave, now.

Turning back to Altaïr, she saw that his eyes were open, but clouded with pain and unfocused, gazing blankly at the ceiling. “Altaïr?” she whispered again, leaning close over him. His eyes moved hazily towards the sound of her voice, but his gaze was blank and soon drifted away. What was wrong with him? Looking round in confusion, Maria now noticed several bottles and jars of dried leaves next to his bedside. She didn’t recognise the concoctions but there was a strong smell, like hemp or maybe poppy. Combined with the general odour of death and blood, it was nearly enough to make her gag.

She shook her head to clear it and then leant over Altaïr’s body and slid her hands underneath his shoulders and heaved. He cried out in pain as she hauled him off the table and his legs buckled, dragging them both to their knees. Maria’s hands shot to his sides to steady him, but she was shocked to feel something hot and wet beneath her fingers. She pulled them away with a sickening feeling and glanced slowly down. Her fingers were stained with crimson blood. It was starting to seep from beneath Altaïr’s robes, from some wound in his side. She swore violently. Altaïr slumped forwards against her, his breath laboured at her ear. For a moment she just knelt there, holding him closely in her arms and trying to think what to do. There was no time to try to stop the bleeding; another guard was bound to come through at any minute. If they could make it back to the Bureau they could treat Altaïr’s wounds and everything would be alright.

Decided, she pushed Altaïr away and wrapped his arm around her neck, trying to ignore his wince as she gripped the band of damaged skin around his wrist. Taking his weight on her, she staggered to her feet. His blood had begun to trail down his leg and drip onto the floor. With her free hand she tried to clasp at the wound, causing him to groan in pain and flinch away from her. No time for comfort - she began to stumble towards the exit, half-dragging Altaïr whose head still hung limply. His breathing was ragged as he limped along beside her, but he seemed to be conscious enough now to understand the need for silence, each groan he made muffled through gritted teeth.

The other patients seemed to understand as well, many of them staring pleadingly at Maria as they passed their beds, but remaining silent. Maria only wished there was time to rescue them as well. But Altaïr could not wait - when he was healed they could return and liberate all of de Carreo’s prisoners, but not now as blood continued to drip from his side.

They reached the door, unlocked it, and awkwardly negotiated their way through. Outside, Altaïr recoiled at the blinding sunlight, almost trying to push Maria away in his attempt to shield his eyes. She gripped his arms tightly. “Come on,” she whispered, and firmly but gently guided him out into the street.

Navigating their way back to the Bureau was challenging. Where possible, Maria kept them to the back alleys, away from prying eyes. Altaïr soon struggled to stay on his feet, trailing his free hand along each wall as they passed to support himself. Between his moans of pain, he had begun to murmur something, but Maria couldn’t make out what. On several occasions, Maria had to carefully set him down in the shadows, hating herself for it as he grimaced with pain, and eliminate a number of guardsmen who were blocking their path. By the time they arrived at the Bureau they had garnered far too much attention and she was exhausted.

“Altaïr!” Malik shouted. He ran forward to help as Altaïr finally slipped from Maria’s grasp and sunk to his knees. “What has happened?” Malik said breathlessly, alarmed to see the red staining Altaïr’s robes. Altaïr looked up at him as he firmly clasped his shoulder. His eyes were brighter now but still hazy and uncomprehending.

“Inside,” was all Maria replied. Malik nodded. Together they lifted Altaïr back to his feet and carried him inside the Bureau’s sanctuary.

“Lay him on the counter,” Malik instructed as he swept the books and quills hastily to the floor. Altaïr grunted and clawed at his side as Maria did so. His forehead shone with sweat.

“Water,” Malik gestured to the rafiq, who darted off.

“Who did this to you, brother?” Malik asked softly, his hand back on Altaïr’s shoulder. Altaïr was too weak to reply.

“Later,” snapped Maria. She drew her hidden blade and used it to slice open the sodden, bloody fabric around Altaïr’s wound. Malik nodded and helped her as they peeled away the robes to reveal Altaïr’s chest.

“By God…” Malik whispered. Criss-crossing Altaïr’s torso were at least five deep cuts, all quite fresh and unbandaged. A few had crude stitches holding them shut, including that at his side, where the threads had been broken by the movement of the last few hours. Several looked badly inflamed. Each was at a different stage of healing, and there was an awful precision to the sharpness of their edges. This had been deliberate.

The rafiq returned with a large jug of water. As Maria stepped back, stroking her hand across Altaïr’s forehead, Malik carefully poured the water onto the wounds. Altaïr started at the sensation, and Maria had to press his shoulders firmly back to the table. Again he mumbled something, his head rolling from side to side, but she couldn’t make out what it was. As the blood caked around his side washed, away the worst injury became clear. Malik examined it closely.

“This will require stitches. But first we must stop the bleeding.”

He motioned Maria to pass him a clean section of fabric. Folding it, he placed it carefully over Altaïr’s side and then positioned his hand on top and leant down with all of his weight.

Altaïr’s reaction was immediate. He cried out - in fear as well as pain - and his bleary eyes shot open and darted around wildly. “No no no. Not again. Stop this. Not again!” he gasped. His hands were gripping the edges of the table, knuckles shining and muscles shaking. Startled, Malik and Maria leapt back. As the pressure relented, Altaïr relaxed and fell back, his chest heaving.

“Altaïr?” Maria said uncertainly, taking his hand. “It’s us. We’re trying to help you. You’re safe. It’s alright.”

Altaïr made no reply, once again turning towards the sound of her voice but not seeming to be able to focus on anything around him. She squeezed his hand but got no reply.

Dismayed, Malik picked up the material and hesitantly pressed it back against Altaïr’s side. Altaïr cried out again and his legs kicked out, knocking the jug of water off the edge of the table top.

“Hold him down!” instructed Malik. The rafiq scurried to Altaïr’s legs and gripped both of his ankles where the restraints had cut into them, pressing them down hard. Altaïr writhed and fought even harder. Maria gripped his shoulders and leant over him, forcing him flat. She could feel his whole body trembling under her palms. He continued to moan “No no no no…” over and over.

“It’s alright, my love,” she whispered soothingly down at him. He didn’t seem to hear her.

Malik pressed down on the cloth again and Altaïr let out a strangled cry. His breath was coming in short, panicky gasps, and his body jerked as he tried to fight off whatever foes he was seeing through his clouded eyes. His cries and murmurs grew gradually louder as the others stood around anxiously and waited for the pressure to stop the bleeding. It seemed that whatever potions de Carreo had inflicted on him were beginning to wear off.

The fabric slowly stained red as it soaked up Altaïr’s blood. Eventually, the bleeding appeared to slow enough for Malik to cease the pressure and remove the cloth. He began to prepare a needle and thread for the stitches. Altaïr quietened and relaxed a little, giving Maria a chance to stretch her arms. They were already aching with the exertion of holding him down. And the worst was yet to come.

Malik managed to thread the needle and turned apprehensively to Altaïr. He steadied himself, and then reached down towards the edge of the wound.

“Forgive me,” he murmured. Then he pierced the needle point into the flesh.

Altaïr screamed. A raw, guttural howl of agony and horror, tearing out of him as his body bucked and thrashed against their grip. Tears pricked in Maria’s eyes. This was awful. What had de Carreo done to him to make him so frantic to escape?  If it wasn’t taking all of her strength to hold him down against the table, she longed to cup his face, to do whatever it would take to make him realise that he was safe and with friends, and that - whatever horrible things had been done to him - it was all over now. They weren’t trying to hurt him. A teardrop dripped from her eye and fell down onto Altaïr’s chest.

Malik continued with the stitches, staring intently and grim-faced at his work and obviously trying to block out all the other distractions. Maria wondered how he could manage it. At least the quicker the wound was stitched, the sooner Altaïr’s pain would be over. A broken whimper escaped from Altaïr’s mouth amidst the roars and gasps of pain. His struggles were growing weaker, though it still needed both Maria and the rafiq to hold him still enough for Malik to work. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and every inch of his face was contorted with agony, his eyes screwed tight.

“Stop. Please stop,” he managed to plead, his voice beginning to break. Maria’s heart twisted at the desperation in his voice. She’d never seen him like this before. He was always so strong. Seeing him like this… it hurt more than she could bear.

“Nearly done,” Malik muttered. He pulled the last of the stitches through Altaïr’s blood-stained side - eliciting another gurgled cry - and snapped the thread off at the end. Altaïr’s body slowly slackened as the pain ceased, and he collapsed exhausted against the table, eyes still closed and panting heavily. Maria removed her shaking hands from his arms and went to stroke his face again. He flinched weakly away from her touch at first, but seemed too weary to keep fighting. His skin was as hot as ash underneath her hand.

“It’s finished, my love. Rest now,” she whispered.

“I will prepare somewhere for him to rest,” said the rafiq, and vanished into the courtyard.

Malik fetched clean bandages and began to carefully wrap them around Altaïr’s chest, concealing the horrible wounds. Maria breathed a small sigh of relief as she lifted Altaïr’s now-limp form up so that the cloth could be passed underneath. His head lolled weakly against her, eyelid fluttering, but he remained silent as they worked, and only let out a faint moan as she set him down again.

Once the bandages were done, Malik warily reached for Altaïr’s wrist and inspected the damage. The skin there had been rubbed raw to the point of bleeding, and cut into by the edges of the restraints. Altaïr flinched ever so slightly away. Saying nothing, but with a grave expression, Malik poured out two bowls of water, and clean pieces of cloth to go with them. He handed one to Maria, and then, taking a wrist each, they began to slowly wash away the blood from Altaïr’s skin. The depth of the cuts and bruised skin around them was gradually revealed, but it still looked better, cleaner, without days’ worth of crusted redness. Altaïr lay still, exhausted.

“How could we have allowed this to happen?” Malik murmured quietly, not looking up.

Maria shook her head. They could never have foreseen something like this.

“I take it the one responsible is-”

“-Dealt with,” Maria finished, her voice cold. Dead by her blade. As he goddamn deserved. “He will never lay hands on an innocent again,” she said.

Malik nodded, seeming satisfied.

They cleaned, dried and bandaged both of Altaïr’s wrists and then his ankles. Altaïr barely stirred as they worked, though Maria could tell by the heavy rhythm of his breaths that he was still conscious. Then the rafiq returned and together he and Maria lifted Altaïr’s listless form off of the table and carried him out to the courtyard, where the rafiq had arranged rugs and cushions for him to rest on. Bowing respectfully, the rafiq returned indoors, and after offering a consoling hand on her shoulder, Malik followed him, leaving Maria and Altaïr alone.

Maria sighed deeply and gazed at Altaïr with sorrow as she stroked his forehead. His brow furrowed slightly into a frown and she watched intently as his eyes slid blearily open. They were glazed with pain and confusion, but not as worryingly blank as they had been before.

“…Maria?” he whispered weakly.

“It’s me, my love. I’m here,” she squeezed his hand.

His gaze flickered around the empty courtyard. “…W-Where…?” he croaked.

“You’re safe, you’re back at the Bureau.” She ran a hand through his tangled hair and smiled softly. “It’s all over.”

Seeming relieved to hear it, Altaïr slumped back into the cushions and his eyes fluttered slowly closed again. She gazed down tenderly at him as his breathing settled and the last of the tension drained out of his body. His forehead was still very hot and clammy to the touch, which aroused a wave of concern in her, but seeing him almost peaceful and back with them, safe, was enough to dampen the worry for now. She leant over and placed a quiet kiss on his forehead, and then left him to his rest.

*             *             *

Altaïr’s fever broke on the third day.

It had been a horrific ordeal for Maria to watch as he suffered and burnt up from the inside out, and there were dark moments in the dead of night when she honestly didn’t know if he was going to pull through. She had barely slept since they had brought him back. Though she and Malik took it in shifts to stay by Altaïr’s side, she found that not even the bone-deep exhaustion was enough to steal her away from fear for him when she tried to get some rest.

Malik, likewise, seemed grey with tiredness, bitten with worry, and constantly uneasy. When it had become apparent that the fever ravaging Altaïr’s body wasn’t abating, he’d sent the rafiq out to seemingly every apothecary in the city for any poultices and tinctures that might help calm the infection. Maria got the sense that he didn’t really know what to do for Altaïr much better than she did.

They applied fresh poultices to Altaïr’s wounds often. At first, it needed both of them, as Altaïr continued to try to fight them off, but as he grew weaker and more delirious in the grip of the fever, Maria found she could manage alone. She still couldn’t stand to look directly at the cruel incisions as she carefully peeled away the old bandages and replaced them with fresh cloth. Altaïr would still stir whenever anyone touched him. He was too feverish to be fully conscious - when his eyes were open, they were dull and distant, and never managed to stay open for long. During the worst of the waves, he began to writhe underneath his blankets. His head would toss from side to side, his face twisted with anguish, and his hands clutched emptily at the air or sometimes at his bandages. Maria had to gently pry his clawing hands away, and often sat for many hours holding them at the wrists and trying to soothe him back into sleep.

He also shied away when she tried to help him drink the potions they’d acquired. Whether that was because of the foul taste, or because of associations with whatever had happened to him during his captivity, she didn’t know. It broke her heart, but she still patiently cradled his head and poured each dose down his unwilling throat.

What distressed her the most, however, were the quiet cries that constantly slipped from his lips. He would call out through the delirium with muffled curses or pleas as he tried to fight against whatever invisible demons he was imagining around him, or sometimes mumble strange things she didn’t understand, about mankind or science or morality, apparently arguing with people who weren’t there.

On one occasion he seemed to ask after her, and for a moment her heart was lifted, thinking he had finally returned to them, but when she leant close over him and whispered “I’m here”, he just continued to repeat the same breathless murmurs - “Maria… w-where are… where are you…” - eyes unseeing. Eventually she tried to harden her heart to his cries, and just stayed for hours by his side, tending to his injuries and wiping gently at his clammy forehead with a damp cloth.

On the third day, she was almost dozing off with Altaïr’s head cradled in her lap, when suddenly she heard him speak. “Maria?” His voice was croaky, but sounded more his own than it had since he first descended into the haze of the fever. Hope leapt in her heart and she looked down at him. His eyes were fully open, bright and alive and gazing up at her. He moved to sit up, and though he grimaced and pressed a hand to his chest, with Maria’s help he managed to get upright. He looked around the courtyard and then turned back to her.

“How long have I been out?”

Her face broke into a smile as relief flooded her. “Three days, my love. I thought- …I worried you would not return to us.”

She rubbed at the back of his hand. He squeezed back hers back.

“I dreamt… ” - he frowned - “…strange things.” A dark look crossed his face like a cloud eclipsing the sun. Maria held his hand tighter.

“De Carreo is dead,” she announced. “And the rest of his patients have been liberated.”

Altaïr nodded, but Maria could see in his eyes that his mind was still elsewhere, doubtless dwelling on the last clear memories he had. He shuddered ever so slightly, but then he blinked and turned to smile at her, this time consciously.

“Did you come alone?” he asked, surprised.

Maria shook her head quickly, suddenly remembering. “Malik!” she called out loudly.

There was the sound of movement from inside the Bureau, followed by a loud thump and muffled cursing, and then Malik appeared in the doorway. His hair was dishevelled and he looked dazed, but his eyes shone as he noticed Altaïr.

“Brother, you’re awake!” he cried, smiling widely.

He rushed to kneel beside them, and grasped Altaïr’s shoulder firmly.

“It is good to have back with us,” he said. His voice was warm with sincerity and relief.

Altaïr bowed his head and lifted a hand weakly to his chest in acknowledgement. The shift in position made him wince and Maria felt his weight suddenly pressing back on her again as he faltered. “Easy, my love,” Maria calmed him. Malik quickly caught Altaïr by his other shoulder and they lowered him back against the cushions. A few beads of sweat had reappeared on his forehead and his eyes were outlined with frown-lines as his face twisted with pain.

Maria picked up the wet cloth and dabbed gently at his face. He leant subtly into the cool of the cloth as Malik unfastened his robes and began to unbandage his chest. “Just breathe,” Maria whispered. Removing the bandages, Malik examined the injuries underneath.

“Argh! Son of a jackal…” Altaïr flinched and cursed beneath his breath as Malik pressed carefully at the edges of the cuts.

“Apologies, brother,” Malik responded, but with a wry smile. He finished his examination and straightened up. “Your wounds are healing well,” he declared happily. “In a few days, we should be able to return to Masyaf. It will be better for you to finish healing there.”

*             *             *

Two days later, the three assassins sat aside their heavily-burdened horses, the road ahead winding into the parched mountains and Jerusalem slowly disappearing into the sand-haze behind them. Maria rode behind Altaïr, keeping a watchful eye on him. His injuries were not yet fully healed and she knew the jostling of riding had to be paining him, but he seemed to handle his steed confidently on the rocky path. The strength of this man she called her beloved never ceased to amaze her.

She paused and turned to look back at the city. She hoped it would be a long time before they ever had to return to Jerusalem. She felt no doubt that they would both be plagued by the memories of what had happened there for some time to come. But for now at least, they could put it behind them and focus on returning Altaïr to his full strength.

“What is it, my love?” Altaïr’s voice cut across her senses. She turned back around. He and Malik had halted their steeds, and were waiting for her. Altaïr’s face was lined with concern as he gazed at her. Another pang of love for him blossomed in her heart. She drew her horse alongside his, and leant over to him.

“Nothing, my love,” she smiled, and kissed him deeply, feeling his lips soften beneath hers as he ardently returned the kiss.

Malik sighed with feigned impatience ahead of them. Altaïr’s mouth rose into a smirk as he and Maria slowly parted and settled back into their saddles. Then, spurring their horses on, they continued together along the path towards home.

[bitter-sweet-farmgirl]

Labour in Laketown

Fili’s beloved goes into labour in laketown and he delivers his own child.

MASTERLIST

OC(s) Used:  Loka

Word Count:  1,390

Translation(s):  Amrâlimê: My love 

Amrâlizi:  I love you

Âzyungal:  My One

~~~~

I stood beside Kílí, speechless at what Thorin was saying.  "Kílí, Loka, you must stay here and rest.  You would only slow us down on our journey."  He said, smiling benevolently.

Kílí began to protest wildly, "Uncle!  I want to be beside you when we see the halls of our Fathers!  Please Uncle!"  He pleaded, and I joined him.

"Thorin, I too wish to see the halls of my Father.  I can promise you I won't slow you down."  I said, a pleading gaze upon my face.  

Thorin shook his head slowly.  "No.  I will not allow an expectant dwarrowdame on this dangerous part of the journey.  Especially when the child could arrive any day.  Rest, Loka."  He said, motioning for the rest of the company to follow him.

"Fílí!  Come, we need to go now!"  He called, but Fílí did not move from his place beside us.  "Fílí?"

"I will not leave my brother or my One."  Fílí said, his handsome face solemn, acting as though he didn't care, that we were more important.  But I knew the decision hurt him.  All he had talked about on the journey was seeing the halls of his ancestors for the first time.  To be one of the first to gaze upon them.

Oin stepped back, stating that his place was with the injured.  Thorin nodded silently before he gave the order to sail, the boat gliding smoothly away from the wooden dock.

I watched it go, feeling frustrated about being left behind since I was pregnant.  It wasn't like it was entirely my fault.  

My thoughts were interrupted by Bofur appearing, and Kílí collapsing against Fílí, his face pale.  They all crowded around Kílí, making the decision to head back to Bard's so Kílí could be healed.

I followed wearily, anxious about Kílí's condition.  The morgul arrows were poison, and Mahal knew Kílí hadn't told us until it was too late.

We gained entrance to Bard's house, where only his children were since Bard had become a prisoner of the Master of Laketown.  

Kílí was settled, and Bofur sent off to find Kingsfoil.  I watched from a distance as Fílí sat by his brother's side, trying desperately to keep him still while Oin tried all he knew to bring the fever down.

Bustling by me, Oin glanced at me, then stopped and turned back.  "The child has dropped, Loka."  He said, his eyes searching my face.  

I laughed softly.  "That means nothing, Oin.  I feel fit as a fiddle!  Focus on Kílí, this baby isn't going to appear anytime soon."  I smiled, rubbing my swollen abdomen.

Oin just narrowed his eyes, hurrying past me.  Once he was busy again, I let my cheerful façade drop, exhaling softly as I shifted my feet.  I was in-labour, I knew that since my water had broken while we were heading to Bard's.  But Kílí was in a more serious condition that I, and so needed as much help as he could get.  I would be fine until after everything was over.

I figured I would have hours until the baby finally made an appearance since this was my first child, and I'd always been told that the first labour was the longest.

But I learned rather fast that there are always exceptions to the rule.  Within minutes I found myself on the edge of a bench within the house, panting softly as another contraction washed over me.  

Kílí was growing worse, and Bofur still hadn't returned with the herbs yet.  Just as I figured things couldn't get any worse, the orcs arrived.  

They swarmed the house, attacking anything and everyone.  I screamed as one appeared in front of me, and Fílí sprinted over, quickly removing it of the burden of its head.

"Are you alright, Amrâlimê?"  He asked, blue eyes scanning my shaky figure.  I was about to answer when a contraction seized me, and I groaned, my hands grasping at my knees, bunching the fabric of my dress as I gasped for breath.

"Amrâlimê, why didn't you tell me?"  Fílí asked, his voice becoming panicked.  

"Kílí needed you.  I can wait until he has been healed."  I whispered, but Fílí shook his head.  

"The she-elf is here with Kingsfoil.  She will heal him.  You need my attentions now."  He said, gently lifting me into his arms.  

"Tilda!  Loka is in-labour, do you have a bed for her?"  He asked, and Tilda pointed down a hallway, hurrying over to Kílí's side to hold him down as the she-elf healed him.

Fílí headed down the hallway, murmuring to me as I shuddered in his arms, the pain increasing tenfold with each contraction.

He lay me on the bed, brushing the hair out of my eyes as I panted, my hands clutching at the sheets.  "Fee."  I gasped out, my body doubling over as I bore down, desperate to relieve the

pain.

Fílí hurriedly pulled my skirt to my knees, his battle-roughened hands gentle.  "You're alright, Loka.  I've got you."  He soothed as I cried out, feeling as if I was being chopped in-two.  "I'm going to get Oin."

"No!"  I yelped, grabbing his hand.  "Don't leave me here."  Fílí swallowed, nodding.

"Alright, Amrâlimê."  

The experience felt like it would go on forever, my screams mingling with Kílí's as we both fought through our own battles.  I noticed that within minutes, Kílí had became quiet, but my screams continued to reverberate through the wooden walls.  Then the last groaning scream left my lips as the baby emerged.  

I fell back against the pillows, gasping for breath as I blinked the sweat out of my eyes.  The first cry of the baby pierced the silent house, Fílí holding it up in shaking hands.

"I have a daughter.  Amrâlimê, we have a daughter."  He whispered, his blue eyes sparkling as he lay the child upon my heaving chest.  

I cooed to the little thing, hushing its cries as it recognized my voice.  Fílí sat down beside me on the bed, brushing his damp hair out of his eyes.  "What should we name her?"  He asked softly, his lips upturned in a tired smile.

"I was thinking of the name Maeth..."  I said, watching him closely to gauge his reaction.  His smile grew wider.  

"That fits her perfectly, Amrâlimê."  He said, leaning down to kiss me.  

But then the door flew open, Bofur and Oin hurrying through.  Bofur stopped suddenly upon seeing me lying on the bed, but Oin continued forward, scolding like a mother hen.  Fílí drew back, a disappointed sigh escaping his lips.  

We didn't have much time alone these days, and Fílí missed the privacy we had in Rivendell for those few nights when he could just pull me away to kiss me in a corner.  

Oin bustled around me, alternating between observations and scolding.  "I told you the child had dropped, but you wouldn't listen.  Why did no one call for me?"  He grumbled, and Fílí breathed another soft sigh.  

"You were busy with Kílí, and she didn't wish me to leave her alone with the child so close at hand."  Fílí said, and Oin nodded distractedly while he examined the baby.

Fílí gently pulled my skirt down, providing my nether regions with a more secure covering while other men where in the room.  

Bofur hesitantly stepped forward.  "How are ya feelin' lass?"  He asked, making me smile.

"Exhausted."

Bofur nodded, a smile crossing his face as he watched me take Maeth from Oin, cradling it close to my chest.  

"Would ya like some water?"  He asked suddenly, and I nodded gratefully.  I was parched.

"That would be wonderful."  I murmured, and he slipped out of the room.  Oin followed him, saying he needed to check on Kílí.  

Fílí stood up upon hearing Kílí's name.  He called after Oin, who turned back at the doorway.  "Oin, how is he?"  

"The she-elf healed him.  He's resting now, if you'd like to see him."  Oin answered, continuing walking.

Fílí glanced back at me, and I nodded to him.  "Go check on Kílí, I'll be fine until you return."  I said, smiling.

He grinned back, leaning down to press a kiss to my lips.  "I'm so proud of you, Amrâlimê.  You were amazing.  Amrâlizi, Âzyungal."  He murmured, then hurried out of the room as I watched him fondly.

[triptychexe]

TITLE: Days and Nights SUMMARY: Jin’s on house arrest and it’s harder to handle than she thought it would be. Van makes everything a little bit better by giving Soojin a much-needed pep talk.  WORD COUNT: 2.3k GENRE: angst? some soft moments too. PAIRING: Platonic!Jin + Van, Platonic!Triplex 

WARNINGS: mentions of stalking, mentions of declining mental health, I think there’s a few swears? If any other warnings should be made, please let me know! 

A/N: This piece does follow up Escalation  if you are interested! If you don’t feel like reading that, basically all you gotta know for this is that Soojin has a stalker still out there & while her company is looking for him, she’s not supposed to leave her building without supervision for safety reasons <3

WINTER 2018 

It took Jin only two weeks to come to the conclusion that time was just a social construct. Days and nights were nothing but the sun setting and rising. There was no difference between three o’clock and four o’clock. And sometimes days felt like a familiar film that replays in an infinite loop, except there was no plot, and nothing ever happened.

The only excitement in the singer's new routine was when she would get calls from her manager or Hak Bonghwa himself. Before every call, her heart would skip an irregular beat, the nagging fear that her stalker might have found her phone number again. But everytime she checked the caller ID, the rest of the interaction was always familiar.  Whoever called would inform her that no new leads have been found, that they’re still looking, and that things will be resolved as soon as they can. Then she hung up, and went back to her dull existence. 

For a while, she was fine with everything being mundane and regular. She needed some time to let herself bounce back and to relax. This relaxation period only lasted about two days. Then she started overthinking everything that has happened up until now, the thoughts making her more anxious than soothed.

The only thing to stop her from thinking too much was to stay busy. Even though Trois’ promotional period ended prematurely, HBH was gearing up for Triplex to make their debut. As the self-proclaimed leader of the second generation, she felt the urge to assist in any way she could.

“Chaewon, your hair is a mess.” Jin scolded one morning as she placed a homemade omelette in front of the younger girl. It was the second successful omelette Soojin has ever made. Her daily breakfast routine was finally starting to result in some cooking skills. 

“Chaewon, your hair is a mess.” Chaewon mimicked a pitched sing-songy voice. “I don’t need to do my hair perfectly, we have stylists on set that can do it for me.” 

Soojin arched her eyebrow at the younger girl. “And I don’t need your attitude. Mock me again and you’ll get bruises your stylists will have trouble covering.” Her harsh words would have been intimidating, if it wasn’t for the small grin on her lips. Chaewon chuckled, shoveling a piece of eggs with peppers into her mouth.

“Good one, Soojin. I’d love to see you try to batter me up.” Chaewon teased. 

“No talking while eating.” Soojin playfully narrowed her eyes before turning away to glance at the clock. It was nearing eight and Sunhee hadn’t come out of her room for breakfast yet. Soojin sighed before taking a deep inhale, inflating her lungs. 

“Sunhee! Let’s go! Breakfast is getting cold!” Soojin hollered towards the direction of Sunhee’s room. She was sure she heard a groan of annoyance in response, but she chose to ignore it. 

In a few minutes, Sunhee was sulking into the kitchen, her eyes still bloodshot and heavy. Soojin sighed, as she placed a second omelette in front of her.

“Good morning, Sunhee.” Soojin greeted. She got a guttural grunt in response. 

“Why do we have to be up so fucking early to take pictures?” Sunhee complained. Jin frowned at the vocalist, unimpressed with her attitude. 

“Be grateful that you have a sponsorship like this so early into your career.” Soojin reminded them. “Innisfree is a popular company, and the fact that they wanted you three out of all the idols they could have hired means a lot.” 

Sunhee didn’t respond. She silently shoveled food into her mouth. Chaewon giggled and poked one of Sunhee’s puffed cheeks. Sunhee grinned and swatted the hand away, but Chaewon wasn’t done teasing her friend. Eventually, the two were nudging each other and trying to knock each other off their stools. Soojin learned when they first moved in together that interrupting SunWon’s rough housing only resulted in two sulky girls. It was better for them to get their playtime in.

Right before Chaewon was about to topple over in her seat, the doorbell rang. Soojin rushed to the door, opening it to reveal a well-groomed Kit. 

“Aw, Heshen! You look so handsome!” Soojin cooed, opening the door further for the younger boy to enter the apartment. Kit’s cheeks flushed as he looked down at his outfit. He was wearing a button-up shirt under a soft cardigan, cuffed pants, and shiny loafers. To Soojin, he looked like the perfect representative for Innisfree products. 

“Thanks, Soojin.” He smiled. Sunhee and Chaewon hopped off their seats when they heard their friends voice, rounding the corner and sliding in their socks against the wooden floor.

“Woah, Heshen. You look…” Sunhee’s eyebrows shot up.

“Presentable!” Chaewon completed Sunhee’s thought, a teasing grin on her face. “You usually dress so bummy, I forget that you’re actually attractive!” 

Heshen’s smile faded. “How the hell am I supposed to respond to that?” “By thanking me.” Chaewon wrinkled her nose playfully. “That-” Heshen started to argue but Soojin intervened after she got a text on her phone.

“How about you guys continue this in the car? Hyungjung says she’s downstairs waiting.” Soojin said. 

The three teenagers gathered their things and filed out the door. Soojin waved goodbye from the doorway, smiling as the trio of them waved from the elevator. When the elevator doors closed, Soojin felt the weight of loneliness again.

Now that she was alone, she started to remember the last time she was alone in the dorm. The night she received that infamous phone call.  Soojin shivered at the memory, an irrational worry that someone might pop out behind the couch seized her consciousness. Before she let herself think about all the horrible things that could happen unsupervised, her doorbell buzzed.

Jin peeked through the peephole cautiously. Through the fish-eye lens, she saw a smiling Van rocking back and forth on his heels. Van and Jin weren’t exactly the closest members of Triptych, given their scheduling. Maybe he was here to give her updates on her sasaeng. 

With a shred of hope, she opened the door, peeking her head out cautiously. Van’s smile was still present as ever, his eyes squinting ever so slightly with the curve of his cheek.

“Hi!” Van smiled. “Hey.” Soojin returned the smile kindly. “What’s going on?” “Nothing. I don’t have anything to do today, so I thought I’d come over to check on you.” Changmin said, his expression changed into one that was slightly sheepish. “But I totally understand if you wanted space.” 

Soojin’s chest felt lighter, like a weight has been lifted.

“Yeah! I could use some company. Come in.” She smiled, thanking the stars above that she wouldn’t have to brave the lonesomeness of the dorm alone right now. She eagerly stepped aside, allowing Changmin to enter her dorm. 

“You’re alone?” Changmin frowned, looking around the dorm. “Shouldn’t someone be here with you?” 

Soojin shrugged. “The others have schedules today. Plus, I can take care of myself, you know?” 

Changmin nodded. “Of course, of course.” Soojin couldn’t tell if he was saying that genuinely or to comfort her. 

“Um, can I make you tea or something?” Soojin asked politely, swaying her arms back and forth to fill up the awkwardness that had settled over the pair. 

Changmin smiled. “I’ll make us some tea. How about you sit down?” 

Soojin arched an eyebrow. The offer caught her off guard. Changmin chuckled at the expression on the girl’s face. “Kit mentioned that you have been helping Triplex prepare for debut and making him breakfast and stuff. Let me repay you for taking care of our maknae.” Changmin insisted.

The gentle finality in Changmin’s voice told Jin that there was no use in arguing with him. Instead, she led him to the kitchen and sat herself down at the table. She watched as Changmin moved around the kitchen, finding the materials he needed to make them both a hot beverage.

“So,” Changmin spoke as he turned the oven on to boil some water. “Kit hasn’t been bothering you, has he? I know he’s over here a lot.” 

Soojin shook her head. “I like the company. Keeps me busy.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” Changmin arched an eyebrow. Soojin couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “I tried that, but I realized that resting goes hand in hand with reflecting and…” Soojin let her voice trail off. She stared down at the kitchen floor, licking her teeth. She didn’t need to continue, Changmin understood the rest. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Changmin asked, furrowing his eyebrows in worry. Jin hesitated. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to talk about it or not. HBH already made her go to two therapy sessions. After the second session, Jin decided that reliving one of the most traumatic nights of her life with a woman she’s never met didn’t help her in the slightest. She didn’t want someone psycho-analysing her, she didn’t want to feel like she was put under a microscope. 

“Not really.” Jin answered honestly. Changmin nodded in understanding. “Well, if anything changes, you know where to find me.” Changmin angled his head towards the wall, gesturing in the general direction of his own dorm. Jin hummed in appreciation. 

“What about you? Anything on your mind lately?” Jin asked, the pad of her finger tracing the ceramic lip of her cup in a lazy circle. Changmin sucked on his bottom lip, shrugging.

“Nothing’s really been going on.” He responded. “I guess I’m just anticipating the second generation’s debut.” 

“Trois already debuted.” Jin reminded him. Their debut was short, but was it really that forgettable?  “I mean like… You know. The other subunits.” Van shrugged. The tightness in his tone helped Jin piece together the hidden emotions that her older groupmate had towards the additional members of the group.

“You’re skeptical.” Jin inferred. 

Changmin sucked on his teeth. “The word ‘skeptical’ seems really judgemental…” “But you do have concerns?” Jin arched her eyebrow. 

“I mean, yeah. Nothing major, of course.” Changmin held a hand up in surrender. “But you know… It’s just kinda nerve wracking thinking that your career in this group could be snuffed out by a teenager who has more charisma than you.” 

Soojin’s eyebrow arched even higher, the corners of her lips settling into an unpleasant frown. What was he implying? 

Suddenly, the corner of Changmin’s lips quirked before he quickly straightened out his face. A small chuckle slipped between Changmin’s lips.

“What?” Jin asked, finding a small smile quirking on her own lips at the sight of Changmin trying to keep himself composed. An identical smile mirrored on Van’s face as he shook his head.

“Sometimes you act just like Yerin.” He confessed. “The amount of times she’s given me that face… You’re gonna have to develop a stronger gaze if you wanna intimidate anyone in our group.” 

Soojin pressed her lips together. The Yerin comparison. It was bound to happen. Despite not being close, Yerin and Soojin’s name had been strung together since Soojin’s trainee days. Even after making an attempt to give herself her own name, Yerin’s identity seemed to stick to her more than ever. 

“Looks like someone else has their own concerns.” Van noted. The playfulness in his tone was gone, replaced by curiosity.

“It’s just… Comparisons get dull.” Jin shrugged. Changmin nodded in understanding. “I didn’t mean it like that. You and Yerin are two very different people.” 

Jin managed a dull, mirthless chuckle. “Yeah. I’m her but if she had two left feet and a stalker.” 

“Not funny.” Changmin frowned. 

“It kinda is though.” “No, it’s not.” “I’m coping, let me have this.” Soojin’s lips quirked, bringing her mug up to her lips, although the drink had lost its warmth.

“You have a darker sense of humor than Yerin, that’s for sure.” Changmin shook his head, taking a drink himself. He hesitated before speaking. “Don’t mention any of this to Yerin, but… You’re not like her in the best way possible. You seem more… human.”

Jin let out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s…” Jin quirked her head, looking down at her cup and trying not to laugh at the bluntness of Changmin’s statement. Changmin let out an air of a chuckle.

“No, listen,” He pleaded. “Yerin’s great but Yerin’s never had the general public go against her like you have. You’ve gone through hell these past few weeks and you still are a kind person. Yerin kinda loses it when someone so much as steps a toenail out of line.” 

Soojin searched Changmin’s face skeptically. “I thought you were friends with Yerin.” 

“I am, but working with people closely makes you realize their flaws in high definition.” Changmin mused, a small smirk on his lips. “If you’re not getting under each other’s skin at least a few times a month, you’re not getting the full Triptych experience.” 

Soojin pursed her lips and nodded. “Good to know.” 

“But hey,” Changmin spread his arms with a smile on his face. “We’re still one big, slightly-dysfunctional family. We support each other just as frequently as we bicker with one another. Which is why I’m here! I’m like… The brother you never asked for.” 

Soojin’s heart clenched. She hasn’t had a ‘family’ in so long. Not since she stopped talking to her parents. The trainees were the closest she’s gotten to a home. Now with everything going on and promotional schedules being so frequent, she felt like there was no structure anymore. Maybe that’s why her days and nights bled together, because there was no one there to help her keep track of them.

Tears formed on her waterline as she placed the mug down on the counter. Without thinking much of it, Jin walked straight into Changmin’s open arms, pressing her cheek against his chest as she hugged him.

“Oh.” Changmin let out a small exclamation of surprise. Gently, his arms came down to hug Soojin back.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Shadows in the dark

A/N: this was requested by anon, I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think! If anyone has any requests, please let me know! 

Summary: can you do a reddie x teen daughter where she thinks she sees a shadow figure but it’s just bc she watched a horror movie, n she screams so richie n eddie come n automatically assume it’s IT n go into fight mode but she reassures them she was just seeing things, but then she’s suspicious af bc of their reactions so they try to like explain the whole pennywise thing but rlly vague and like half bs so tht they don’t scare her n they acc get away w it.  

The thunderstorm pours heavily outside of Raina’s bedroom window, drenching everything in sight. It was the first night of the year that this happened, and she had forgotten just how scary it is, to be faced with this kind of . The horror movie she watched a few hours prior doesn’t help her case either, the images of dark figures stalking girls outside in their backyards flashing through her mind every time a bolt goes off.

The window is located on the left side of her bed, above a cozy seating arrangement Rania uses to read and indicate that she requires alone time. Though it usually symbolizes her calm, it now appears ominously, something she should be scared off.  

She fumbles with her phone, trembling impatiently until the screen lights up, illuminating the room so she can see. She groans in frustration when she looks at the time, barely three am, falling back into the bed and burying her head in her pillow.

The storm croaks outside, loud and un-bothered in it’s intensity, making Rania wonder if anyone else is awaken by the weather phenomenon.  ‘Shut up’, she mumbles stupidly, as if it’s going to listen to her, but it reminds her of the times when her pops used to stay up with her when she was little and afraid of the storm, and that causes her to chuckle.

She’s older now, and not so easily spooked, except when she watches a scary movie. This particular movie was called hush, and even in the light of day it frightened her. The idea of not being able to hear whether or not someone was breathing down your neck, or calling out for you seemed manifested straight out of one of her nightmares.

The storm rings loud enough to drown out any other sound that might emit, but that’s only her brain talking, tricking her into being queasy of nothing. There’s not a thing that’s going to happen, and logically she knows that, so she tries to shut her eyes and will herself to sleep.

It’s not going to happen, the three am hour sign burned on the back of her eyelids. She taps her fingers against the edge of the bed restlessly, shifting and twisting in her blankets until sweat starts to build above her eyebrows and she frustratingly kicks the comforter off of her.

Glancing at the window, firmly shut and the curtains drawn over it, Rania debates if it worth opening her window to let some cool air in. The hot summer sun is unforgiving these days, so scorning hot that it feels like your skin will burn right off the flesh if you stay outside for too long.

A bit of relief of the heat would be welcome, yet she almost falters, then curses herself with how foolish she’s being. Her pops is famous, and they’re living in an expensive neighborhood with a security guard, no one can harm her. She opens the window up an inch, and before heading back to bed, Rania shuffles towards the living room to grab a glace of water.

It isn’t uncommon for her to wake up, usually around the same time too, so she learns to deal with it, eating or drinking something or trying things like yoga. Though rarely helpful, Rania does discover new things and interests, so she takes it as a win.

An explosion of lightning brightens up the room, so she leaves the lights off as she shambles towards the fridge. It’s dead quiet, everyone having gone to bed, which makes her feel like she’s alone in the house. Another thunder crack causes her head to whip up from where she was ducked down to grab the water, eyeing the room twice, but coming up empty handed.

Rania hurries to pluck a water bottle and run up the stairs back to the safety of her room, peeking over her shoulder multiple times to ensure that there’s no one watching her. When she reaches her door, she throws it open, duks into the room, and then promptly shoves it closed with a loud bang.

She winces, the noise way too loud, though thankfully neither her dad, nor her pops stir. The rain ticks away on her window, some of it slipping through the opening and spattering in her room, resulting in a wet puddle being formed.

‘Fucking great’, Rania mutters when she notices, the pool extending right before her eyes. She turns halfway to her closet on the right side of the room, a wooden terra cotta colored one that uncle Bill got for her when they moved in, searching for an item that is allowed to get wet.

Towels aren’t at her disposal right now, and she’s not jumping at the idea of leaving her room again to go get one, so she improvises, by using a cloth that will be washed in the morning.

She takes hold of an old sweater that’s non usable right now anyway, and then circles in the direction of the window. A scream tears from her lips as she does, a shadow looming by the window leering at her as he sits on the window seat.

Screeching, Rania trips over her feet and falls on the ground, the sweater dropping from her hands, then scrambles back towards the door in an effort to get away from the silhouette. Her hands cover her face, like she wants to protect herself even if there were no visible weapons or the person preparing to attack her.

With burning eyes, tears that threaten to push themselves over the edge, she squints one eyelid open at the lack of movement. The room is empty.

Rania’s heart beats a mile a minute, her breathing fast and erratic, yet she manages to laugh manically. It was only a catch of the light, induced by her own imagination, petrifying her within an inch of her life.

She inhales and holds, then exhales slowly, controlling her breathing so she calms down. Several footsteps thunder on the laminate flooring in the hallway. Not fast enough to dodge the unlatching door, she receives a blow to the head, knocking her down once again.

‘Auw’, she complains, cupping the back of head in one hand and rubbing over the bump.

‘Rania, are you okay?’ Her dads pile into the room, switching the light on, searching frantic until they see her, and scurry beside her.

‘Rania talk to us, are you hurt? What happened?’ Eddie, her dad, clutches her body, half hanging over her, and pulling her as close as possible.

Richie, her pops, is standing on her other side, holding a lamp tightly in his one hand, while the other one latches on to her shoulder.

‘Nothing dad, I thought I saw something, but it’s not real.’

Up close, she can detect the tremors originating from her dad, and the hand of her pops shakes too.

‘You need to tell us alright, even if you think we won’t believe you, we will,’ Eddie promises, Richie nodding along vigorously.

The strangeness of their responses causes an alarm bell to go off in the back of Rania’s brain. She tilts her head sideways, peering up at her dad’s with a quizzical look in her eyes.

‘Okayy..’, she draws up, her voice taking on a questionable tone. She makes an attempt to inquire why they’re acting the way they do, but Richie and Eddie engage in their own conversation now.

‘She won’t tell us, we never told anyone either.’ Eddie says, still keeping Rania close at bay.

‘Well Eds, all the adults in our town fucking sucked, especially your mom.’

‘Fuck off Richie. Do you honestly want to joke about this right now? What if it’s IT asshole? What if the clown returned?’ They’re rushing through the sentences like they are hunted on by the devil himself, complete with wild gestures and raising voices as panic and hysteria seem to control them more and more.

‘I didn’t intend for it be a joke Eddie, I mean it. She was a fucking bitch so yeah, you obviously weren’t going to tell her shit,’ Richie responds irritated.

This wasn’t the usual bickering her parents did on a day to day bases, this time both were annoyed with the other, and Richie being vexed was a rare thing.

The storm rages on outside, three crying out thanks to the wind that blows strongly, but entirely the last thing on Rania’s mind right now.

‘Dad, pops it’s fine, leave it.’

‘It’s not fine, stop saying it’s fine.’ Eddie snapped, staring at Rania with poorly concealed terror. Her dad never snaps at her, ever, furthering suspicion in Rania that something was really, really wrong.

‘Sorry, sorry’, he relented, ‘that was rude.’ It is, but Rania is more concerned than angry anyway. She’s anxious that her dad might have a panic attack, even if he hadn’t had one in years. His face is red, and his hand digs in his pockets, aiming to find his inhaler.

‘We have to call Stan’, Richie distracts, seizing both Eddie’s, and Rania’s hand.

‘Wait what? why?’ Rania asks, pulling her hand out of his grip. Uncle Stan lives in Atlanta, which is a plain ride away, he’s not easily accessible.

‘And Bill. Maybe Mike too.’

‘Guys’, Rania yells out, frustration getting the upper hand. Why won’t anyone listen to what she has to say?

‘I watched a horror movie, I just got spooked. Nothing happened. I opened the window and the curtains moved in a way that looked like there was someone sitting there. But there wasn’t.’ She pointedly fixes her gaze on both Eddie and Richie, to get her point across.

‘Is someone going to tell me what this is all about? Why would we need anyone to come here?’ The tension dibs out of Richie and Eddie, albeit slowly, and they nervously communicate in silence.

‘Hello, is anyone gonna fill me in?’ Rania repeated, as she is not used to being kept in the dark. She thought Eddie and Richie told her everything, so it comes as a shock now she reckons that there’s something hidden.

‘There was a clown.’ Eddie starts, despite the shaking of Richie’s head. ‘And every year at the carnival, he scared us half to death by mean pranks.’

Rania blinks once, then twice. ‘That’s it? That’s what terrified you guys enough to want to call your friends?’

‘I guess we’re just traumatized’, Eddie chuckled uneasy, flatting a curl on the top of her head to keep his hands busy.

‘Psst,’ Richie draws her attention, ‘your dad is spooked because we’re the clowns in high school too. He’s just afraid to admit it.’

Rania giggles, always counting on her pops to make light of a situation, making her instantly more calm.

She misses the thumb Eddie gestures at Richie, gratitude flowing through him that the topic has been avoided, mostly.

They’re both still on high alert, the trouble Pennywise cost then a long way from forgotten, but outwardly they come across as composed.  

A tree branch slaps against the window, starling all three people of the family, although they all pretend that it didn’t.

‘Is anyone up for watching a movie?’ Richie suggests, shoulder shimmying to draw the attention his way.

Rania wisps her head towards her dad, applying the puppy dog eyes her pops had taught her to convince Eddie to do something he most likely won’t approve of.

This time, he relents without any type of resistance.

‘Yeah, come on, I’ll get the hot chocolate milk.’  With a last, lingering hug, Eddie releases his hold on Rania, getting up from where he’s sitting on the floor.

Richie hugs Rania as well, smiling brightly at her with the giant smile. ‘Come on,’ he says, then ushers Rania out of the room.

The suspicion still lingers, the story her dad made up not making much sense, but Rania allows herself to follow them downstairs anyway. It’s late, and though she’s aware that no one hung around her room, she’s apprehensive all the same.

She’ll find out what all of this is about, for example by exploring and question one of her uncles or her aunts, but that can wait. Right now, all she’ll watch a movie, and slip off to sleep under the watchful eye of her parents, who outside of her knowledge, don’t dare the blink away from her once.  

[lovelahela]

❛ high road ❜ ─ mother of the year.

⇢ entry for choices march challenge ! @choicesmarchchallenge

⇢ pairing: hailey young + astra young, thomas mendez x mc (hailey young)

⇢ genre: fluff, humour

⇢ prompt: high road ++ kindness

⇢ description: in which astra is paired up with ajax for a school project and seeks life lessons from her mother on how to deal with it.

⇢ word count: 1597

⇢ notes: i’m going to try my best to participate at least every other day if not every day for the rest of the month in hope of spreading positivity during these difficult times. i really do hope i'll manage to put a smile on someone's face and these dark moments just a little bit easier.

if you want to be put on my moty tag list, tell me!

❛ it's my way or the high way! ❜

❛ that... is not what i meant when i told you to take the high road, sweetie. ❜

Soft laughter and the aromatic scent that insinuated the presence of baked goods in the outdated oven filled the quaint apartment on a sunny Sunday afternoon. A brunette with a petite frame struggled against the hold of a noticeably taller and broader man wearing the goofiest grin on his handsome face. Hailey shrieked in surprise when Thomas smeared the coccoa filled batter across her rosy cheeks.

"You've crossed a line! THIS MEANS WAR!" She emitted a surprisingly powerful battlecry for such a small woman, shocking her captor into released her from his arms. He stared at her for a few seconds, dumbfounded, before he burst into laughter so genuine that Hailey's feigned angry expression softened into one of admiration and awe.

Thomas braced himself against the counter and his shoulders and entire body shook as sounds of joy interrupted the short period of silence. A small smile stretched her small, plump lips and eyes the colour of rich soil sparkled with fondness. Once his laughter died down, he coughed awkwardly upon noticing her staring and their closeness, and he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Uh — you have a pretty strong battlecry for someone so tiny." He grinned yet again, a playful glint in his steel blue-gray eyes.

Hailey whacked his shoulder jokingly. "Rude! I'm not that short, for a Korean woman."

"Emphasis on the for a Korean part." She poked his ribs, receiving a surprised yelp as a response. He raised his arms defensively. "Okay, okay, I'll stop teasing. Wouldn't wanna lose you — people of your stature are in short supply."

Hailey gasped, but couldn't fight the wide smile that practically stretched from ear to ear. "You did not!"

"You're right, I didn't." He looked at her with a wicked expression. "I wouldn't dare insult you — you're a little intimidating — and yet very good at small talk!"

She squealed in mocked offense and slapped his rather muscular arm multiple times, ignoring the fact that he showed little to no reaction to her attempted physical attacks. "You're just jealous you'd never be able to measure up to someone as amazing as me!"

Thomas cackled evilly at her choice of words. "You know what, Hailey Bear? You're right. I might need to knock myself down a few inches. Maybe lower my expectations a little bit."

At that point, she couldn't fight the giggles that bubbled out of her lips against her will. "I walked myself into that one!" Her laughter bounced off the words, chaotic and jovial, but like a melody to his ears. While he appeared distracted with her, she seized the opportunity to smear batter across his cheeks in retaliation. He gasped, pointing an accusatory finger at her.

"Traitor!" He lunged at her menacingly, and with a surprised squeal, Hailey attempted to flee from impending doom. However, he was too fast for her, and grabbed her arm with a satisfied "aha!"

Without realizing his own strength, he pulled her body up against his own, suddenly putting mere centimetres between their faces. Granted, she had to tilt her head upwards to fully look him in his widened eyes — which she realized were rather gorgeous up close. His lips were parted, shocked by the sudden turn of events, and his breathing was laboured as his heart hammered against his ribcage.

A fuzzy feeling that, as much as she hated to admit it, only ever showed up around the adorable yet dorky lawyer settled in Hailey's stomach. Blood rushed to her already reddened cheeks and ears as she tried to ignore the feeling of her chest pressed against hers. They were either too shocked to move, or they didn't want to — maybe a little bit of both.

The sound of a door being flung open snapped them back into reality, and they sprung apart from each other. The two dissolved into a fit of embarased coughs, each avoiding the other's gaze. Two small girls shuffled into the living room, oblivious to the tension between their parents. Luz, Thomas's fiesty daughter with lovely, curly hair had her arms crossed across her chest defiantly with a determined look on her adorably scrunched up face. However, Hailey's daughter Astraea, whose messy bangs shielded her eyes shamefully and gloomily, had her shoulders slumped in defeat. Hailey's motherly instincts kicked in almost immediately, completely forgetting her previous interactions with Thomas.

She rushed forward and kneeled down, gently placing her hands on her petite child's shoulders. A frown distorted her gentle features. "Hey, hey, what's wrong, sweetie?"

Though her voice was calm, it was laced with concern. Thomas furrowed his eyebrows worriedly and glanced at Luz for an explanation.

"Astra's still sad that she got partnered with that buttface August for our science project."

"Luz! Language!"

"Hey! You weren't supposed to tell!" Astraea pouted at her best friend's betrayal, bottom lip quivering inconspicuously. Hailey almost didn't notice it.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier, Rocket?" The corners of Astraea's lips quirked upwards at the use of the nickname her mother and her beloved neighbour Levi began calling her, but the smile faded as quickly as it came.

"I didn't want you to talk to the teachers, or anything. People will think I'm a snitch — and snitches get stitches," she whimpered, ashamed of keeping it a secret from her mother.

"That — that assbutt will get stitches if he doesn't watch out!" yelled Luz angrily.

Hailey bit down her laugh when Thomas choked on thin air behind her, imagining the horrified look on his face. "WHERE ARE YOU LEARNING THOSE WORDS?"

"Look, August may be a little mean — " she ignored the scoff from Luz, knowing she couldn't truly express what she thought about that little twerp " — but he wouldn't risk failing to bully you. If he tries to annoy or tease you, just take the high road. Do you know what that means?"

Astraea thought back to the time she heard her mother use a similar phrase when talking to someone on the phone, and scrunched up her face in determination with an exaggerated nod. "Yep! Thanks, mom!"

Hailey ruffled her daughter's shoulder-blade-length, jet black hair and fixed the bangs so she could see her beautiful irises, a warm brown with specks of a soft blue you could spot if you looked hard enough. After her messy divorce with her ex-husband Guy Ledford, those blue specks reminded her of his despicable eyes until Astraea made them her own.

Once the duo rushed back into Astra's bedroom, Hailey stood up and absentmindedly turned to face Thomas. Nervous butterflies ate at her insides as memories of their exchanged flooded her mind.

"I — Uh — We — "

" I mean — Um — We could — "

Upon accepting that neither of them could formulate a full, coherent sentence, they let out a single cough simultaneously and resumed their baking activities, subtly smiling to themselves despite their flaming cheeks.

The following day, Hailey drived to Bernhardt academy, anxious about seeing how Astraea handled her day with the pompous child that made her put up with incessant teasing and occasional bullying. Her blood boiled whenever she thought of him and his mother, Vanessa Blackwood, who had been throwing comments with underlying hints of racism and homophobia at her. Although his twin brother Ajax was more bearable, he was too meek.

The students began filing out of the school and ran into their parents' waiting arms. Hailey stood on her tiptoes, her eyes scanning the crowd of little ones to find her own. Finally, she spotted Astraea walking out in a fast pace, arguing with a familiar boy while clutching her books against her chest in a knuckle-whitening grip. Hailey frowned at the sight of the two bickering heatedly and waited for them to get closer to listen to their conversation. Luz and Thomas walked up beside her.

"Everything okay, Hails?" asked Thomas gently, his arm around his child's shoulder. Said child cracked her knuckles menacingly while glaring at the bully walking beside her approaching best friend. "Time to kick some butt!"

He sighed, but decided against scolding her for the time being.

"You're wrong! That would be totally uncool! We should build an airplane!" argued August relentlessly as his brother trailed behind him nervously.

Finally, Astraea whirled around and glared at him fiercly, very red-faced and teeth clenched.

"For the last time, the theme isn't aerodynamics!" The volume of her voice heightened with each uttered word, drawing the fleeting attention of near parents and children. Hailey gaped at the sight of her sweet little daughter snapping at someone, and despite the proud feeling that welled up inside of her, she warned her like any other responsible adult would do, in theory. "Astra! Inside voices!"

Even August appeared shocked at her outburst. "You can't talk to me like that!"

"Yes, I... I can!" Her voice and resolve wavered at his equally furious and intimidating gaze, worrying her mother. However, she squared her shoulders and retorted confidently. "It's... It's my way or the high way!"

No one spoke for the following seconds, unsure of what to say at her uncharacteristic choice of words. Upon processing the context behind them, Hailey snorted, earning a look of disapproval from Thomas while Luz whooped in approval at Astraea's decision to stand up for herself aggressively.

She cracked an involuntary smile, beaming proudly at her daughter. "That... is not what I meant when I told you to take the high road, sweetie."

[mystic-kitten-writer]

Limerence [M] ︳27

Pairing: Zuko x OC

AU: Adult-Verse

Genre: Romance, mainly fluff with smut, and if you squint hard enough - you’ll find some angst.

Rating: SFW

Words: 6500+

Notes: Thank you, everyone, for the lovely comments, follows, and just overall support. Take care everyone, and stay safe!

Masterlist ︳26 ︳ 28 ½

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

Limerence: (English/n.) the state of being infatuated with another person. The moment their eyes locked they knew - the flames within him twisted while the water within her turned. It was a connection, a connection that would lead to love, adventure, and drama.

Appetence

(French/n.) a longing or desire; a natural tendency or affinity.

~ Ying Yue Jiang ~

            My hands were trembling, so much so, one would have thought a damn earthquake was happening. A small huff left my lips, frantically seizing whatever laid on the vanity and dresser; and throwing it in the suitcases. Whatever my eyes fell upon fell into the bags – and quite chaotically might I add.

            Zuko’s stern voice resonated in the unfinished house, speaking with the guards outside in the kitchen. Even with the door closed, I could make out a few words, their soft mutters as they discussed amongst each other. His voice was different, no hint of compassion or warmth – taciturn.

            And I found myself stopping, just remembering the look on Zuko’s face when he took in what I said. It was Mai – she was snitch, and I knew it killed him to hear that. She was a childhood friend, and for someone that close to turn against you…I could only imagine how hurt he must be. My eyes lined up with the floor, looking at the mess I left.

            Photos scattered of Azula, Zuko, Mai and Ty Lee. They were children, innocent. Smiling away with not the slightest idea of how things would have turned out in the future. That now, they were at war with each other. I sighed. The pain, of fighting with your flesh and blood…

            I let the remainder of things drop from my hands, picking up the scattered photos. I should probably put these away before Zuko sees these…another droned out sigh fleed my lips as my fingers drew along the images. I was a fool – how did I not clue in that the maid wasn’t a maid but Zuko’s sister? But how was I supposed to know that his sister was crazy…?

            Crawling on my hands and knees, I picked up the rest of the photos, tossing them to the bottom of the box. A few stuffed animals laid at the top of the box, I wanted to wash them, place them in the children room. A plan for a later day…

            The door creaked - opening slowly. It caught me off guard, rushing to get back on my feet, brushing my curtain of hair behind my shoulders. Zuko stepped inside, the door sliding shut as he studied my frazzled posture and suitcases, “What are you doing?” He enquired, voice low.

            “I-I was packing to head back home…” I whispered, anxious. The way his face seemed pale, eyes dim as he huffed, “Don’t bother.”

            “What?”

            But he didn’t speak.

            With shaky steps, Zuko walked over to the side of the bed, sitting down with shoulders slumped. The bed dipped, a drained sigh escaping him and I hesitantly stepped forward, eager to ask more.

            But as I inched my way towards him, he weakly patted the plush sheets of the bed, “Come.” He muttered under his breath, and my brows pinched together. I strolled over, ready to take a seat next to him, but as I made a move, Zuko shook his head, “Sit in the middle of the bed.”

            I frowned, what’s going on with him?

            But I didn’t utter a word, the way his head hung low, voice gruff – he wasn’t in the mood to argue, and I wasn’t going to test him. I lifted up my light summer dress, deciding that since the romantic vacation of ours is long gone, might as well put on decent clothes and brush my hair.

            I sat with my knees bent in the center of the bed, staring at Zuko’s broad back with uncertainty, “Uh, now what?” I awkwardly muttered, expecting some damn magic trick to happen, but instead, he dropped like a rag doll.

            Zuko’s raven hair spilled over my lap, his head dropping flawlessly between my legs as he squeezed my knees like a teddy bear – my cheeks turning a bright red at the gesture. The way he groaned, eyes closed as he snuggled closer to me, legs pulled tight into a ball.

            My eyes softened, hands instinctively falling over his head and combing through his locks, “Zuko…” I whispered as he sighed achingly. Zuko wanted comfort, to feel safe – and I smiled because it was heartwarming to know that Zuko trusted me this much. To be so exposed as he was now. “I should’ve known Azula was involved in this.”

            “How? You thought she was gone…”

            “No, I wished she was gone, gone for good. But now she’s back, and Mai-” I found myself cringing at the mere mention of her name, “I knew we weren’t on good terms, but-but I didn’t think…her brother almost got hurt in that incident, why join Azula? It just doesn’t make sense.” Zuko hissed, hands covering his face as he vented.

            I sighed listening to him rant before I let my hands fall over his and pull them down. His eyes were dark, lips chapped as he fumed underneath me, “None of this makes sense Zuko. Why would Mai join Azula? Why is Azula targeting me if she’s trying to get at you? There are so many unanswered questions…” I huffed, letting Zuko’s hands rest on his chest as he gazed upwards to me.

            My fingers stroking through his hair once again, watching as his silky strands of hair slipped through my fingers with ease.

            “Because the best way to get to me is through you.”

            I stopped. My eyes fluttering back to Zuko, our eyes locking.

            Defeat – that was the look that painted his face. I lamented and closed my eyes, letting myself fall into his figure, feeling his warmth as his hand brushed through my hair, “I promise after everything is done, I’ll take time off. A week, a month, as much as you want.  I owe you.”

            A soft smile flickered, pulling away slightly and looking down at Zuko, determination in his statement, “A month, me and you. We could start working on that baby.” I teased. And for the first time since he walked through that door, Zuko chuckled. Shaking his head as his hand trailed down my face, his thumb brushing my lips.

            His touch was divine, a calming effect that made my breathing ease and heart relax. “Zuko…”

            “Yes, love?’

            “Why did you tell me not to pack?”

            “Cause we aren’t leaving.”

            I frowned, brows pinched together as I looked down at him with a look of bewilderment. Not leaving? What? That makes no sense-

            “I don’t understand…” I muttered, trying to study Zuko’s expression, “It’s risky. We don’t know who is helping Azula and how many people. If we try to leave, and we get caught mid-way through transport, we’re at a disadvantage. So the gang is meeting us here, at Ember Island.”

            “The gang is coming?” I blurted, jumping up as my eyes widen in shock. Zuko nodded, “I need them, they know how dangerous Azula is. I sent word to them, they should arrive in a few days.”

            It was a horrible mixture of emotions – happiness to see everyone again, but how I wish it were on better terms, “Is…Azula that dangerous?”

            “It’s her lack of moral boundaries that’s the most terrifying.” To think that I met her far too many times without realizing her strength, her power. But if she was so mighty…why did she seem frightened by me the other night? She could have easily overpowered me if she was indeed powerful.

            “Yue…” My head snapped downwards, surprised to hear Zuko refer to me by my name. At this point, it was always pet names, names I’ve learned to love and respond to. His lips were pressed tight, thinking about something, struggling to form the words. “What’s wrong, Zuko? Spill it.”

            “I-It’s just…”

            What does he want to ask? Why does he seem hesitant? Fearful?

            “How did you know it was Mai? You said you got into an argument, but I don’t remember you telling me this…” Zuko muttered, and I lowered.

            Not so much at the fact that I may have to come clean soon about the whole fist in the face thing, despite Iroh’s efforts of keeping it under the radar. But because that wasn’t the question Zuko wanted to ask. I could tell.

            The way Zuko’s eyes shifted shouted curiosity – and I would know that look, it, unfortunately, has been the cause of my many downfalls. He’ll ask me his real question… eventually, I won’t pressure him.

            I let my hand run down Zuko’s face, tracing his lips. “Zuko, you need to rest, don’t worry about it.”

            “If she tried to start something with you…” Oh, she did start something, but he doesn’t need to know that I dealt with it.

            “Zuko, close your eyes, rest…you’ve had a rough day…” I cooed, letting my hand caress his face. And although he wore a scowl, I grinned, because his eyes did flutter close, “I can’t – there is so much to do, to plan-”

            “Zuko…” I whispered, letting my fingers fall over his closed eyes, humming the same tune he has hummed to me countless of times. And just like his breathing evened out, his chest rising and falling at a steady pace, his lips parting. And I smiled, he looked at peace – finally.

            And I sat there, with Zuko fast asleep on my lap, watching him so at ease. I’m such a creep, I’m literally watching Zuko sleep. But I couldn’t help it – it was rare for him to snuggle up to me. Usually, it was me cradled in his arms. I kind of like being the bigger spoon for once…“I love you so much…” I hummed softly, studying his features. I can stare at him forever-

            A soft knock on the door caught my attention, speaking softly as I covered Zuko’s ears, “Come in…”

            The door slowly opened, a head peeking through, it was the head construction worker. His wrinkled eyes fell upon Zuko’s relaxed figure, his expression soft, “You got a magic touch.” He chuckled, nudging his head to Zuko, and I smiled, “Do you mind passing me the blanket over there?”

            He nodded, carefully waltzing in the room and letting the blanket slip from his grip and onto the bed, “Is there something you need?” I asked, and he shook his head, “I actually came to ask you for permission.”

            “For what?”

            “The maids and workers were thinking of leaving early, the guards will stay put, but we think you two need some time alone. I can imagine this is a tough time, for you both…” He muttered, and I sighed. Both of our eyes falling upon Zuko, “Was their relationship that bad?” I asked.

            He winced, “You can’t pick family.”

            I nodded, I knew what he meant by that.

            “Thank you for giving us space. It means a lot…” I whispered, and the man nodded, “We’ll leave, the guards are in their posts, something about formation 12 and 17…” He grumbled, a hint of confusion in his voice, “Don’t worry, I’m just as lost as you are.” He sniffled in a laugh, walking back to the door, “Have a wonderful evening, Ying Yue – make sure you two eat dinner.”

            “We will - see you tomorrow.”

            He shut the door behind him, my hands leaving Zuko’s ears as I started placing the light blanket over his body. I could hear a bit of shuffling, the front door closing, meaning it was just Zuko and me, and a few guards at position 12 and 17 – whatever that means.

            Carefully, I got Zuko’s head off my lap, swiftly grabbing my teddy bear and placing it over Zuko’s chest. I giggled tenderly, watching the way Zuko instinctively hugged the bear to himself. My eyes gazed around the room, what to do now.

            I was torn.

            We were stuck here for a few days. What are we supposed to do? Carefully, I got out of the bed, making sure to shut the bedroom door delicately to not disturb Zuko. And with a successful click sound, I let out a long huff.

            The house was empty.

            What do I do now? Do I sit for the rest of these days, waiting for the gang to come? Do I act like nothing is wrong, continue on in vacation mode – we’re here anyway. I frowned, running my hands through my hair as I waltzed into the kitchen, noticing the maids left behind seasoned meat. They’re literal spirits.

            I could cook the meat in the oven, cook some vegetables…yeah, I can probably do that without setting the whole house on fire. And without a second thought, I grabbed the cutting board, washing a few vegetables before mincing. “What do I do…” I hummed.

            Zuko and I dealt with stress differently.

            Zuko indulged in more work when stressed, while I tried to meditate, take time to myself to think. And if we were back at the kingdom, and this happened, I would’ve had an idea as to what do. But it was different, we were at a vacation house. I can’t sit here, waiting, for something to happen. Gosh, I would go insane. But it feels wrong to relax, go to the beach and swim like nothings wrong.

            I stopped chopping, huffing as I stared at the raw vegetables, “If only you could talk and give me an answer…” I grumbled but quickly chuckled, “Actually…good thing you don’t talk, I’m literally butchering you at the moment. Oh my gosh, am I actually talking to vegetables?” The knife slipped out of my hands, and I slapped my face. I’m going insane. I’m talking to vegetables.

            A large pot sat over the stove, and I began filling it with water, ready to boil the vegetables. The water dripped from the tap, the liquid splashing about as I absent-mindedly watched. Water…

            That was another issue. I had to train – genuinely train.

            I couldn’t avoid it like the plague anymore. I had the skills, and my confidence has grown. The thought of bending didn’t frighten me as much anymore, and I had to thank Zuko for that. He was patient, and whenever I did bend, he cheered me on. I smiled softly, shutting the tap and turned on the burner.

            Zuko would help me train, I knew he would – he told me countless times how he would help me. I knew what I was doing, but I needed to refine my skills. I was rusty, and while I could definitely untangle my way out of a sticky situation – it would be better if I were prepared. If Azula was as strong as people said she was, I needed to be ready.

            I slipped the roast into the oven, letting the vegetables slowly cook as I grabbed the nearest baking ingredients – a simple plan coming to mind. I could cook dinner, train with Zuko for a bit, and have a few sweets ready for us for the night. A delicate balance between work and relaxing. And I smiled to myself, I got this.

            The smell of the meat cooking, the soft sounds of the boiling water while I whisked away. So lost with what I was doing, I didn’t hear the bedroom door opening, and a grumpy Zuko waltzing into the kitchen. His gruff voice caused me to jump, not realizing that a bit of time already passed between baking, setting the table, and washing a few dishes, “Are you baking?” Zuko asked. A hint of exasperation in his voice.

            I pouted, placing the batter to the side to rise while we eat, “Sweets for later tonight. Dinner is almost set, I figured after dinner we could train for a bit?”

            But the look on Zuko’s face wasn’t what I expected.

            The way he scratched his head, still a bit drowsy as he had just woken up, “What are you making for dinner? We don’t need a feast.” He fussed, and I grimaced. Zuko had a certain attitude in his voice, and I could feel my skin itch. He’s stressed Yue – don’t let it get to you.

            “It’s just a roast the maids left for us and a few vegetables. It’ll be ready in a few more minutes-”

            “And that’s time wasted. Something simple would’ve been enough. We have things to do.”

            “I don’t think three minutes of waiting is going to be a life or death situation.”

            Zuko rolled his eyes, snickering at my words and I bit my tongue. “You aren’t taking this seriously at all.” He snarled under his breath, but loud enough for me to hear. My eyes widen, letting my hands rest on the counter, “I am. And if we’re going to train, we need to eat. A good meal.”

            “And we need sweets too?” Zuko seethed, chining the bowl I set to the side. My fingers pressed against the marble countertop, relax. Zuko is just under pressure. Breath. “I figured after training it would be a nice treat. To unwind.”

            “I can’t believe you’re actually in vacation mode after finding out that my sister may hurt you,” Zuko growled with crossed arms. I bit my lips, nails digging into the palms of my hands as I glared, what is wrong with him? Why is he such an ass? “I’m not. But I also know we can’t lock ourselves up inside this damn house and just wait for something to happen.”

            “Obviously you are if you’re baking.”

            “It’s a damn treat Zuko for after we train! I’m sorry for wanting to help you de-stress from a stressful day with a damn muffin!”

            “I’m stressed because you aren’t taking anything seriously!” Zuko shouted back, and my breath hitched. He was furious at me at the moment, and I didn’t understand why. “What are you trying to say Zuko?”

            Zuko stomped forward, breathing uneven as he narrowed his eyes, “I’m saying I’d appreciate if you’d fucking stop playing house for a minute and realize we have more important things to do than fucking baking!”

            “Playing house? It’s DINNER Zuko and a damn SNACK. We can train after we eat.”

            “We need to train now. I don’t want to babysit you during a damn battle.”

            My body trembled. Hands into fists. “Babysit?” I hissed, moving away from the counter. Breath Yue, just breath. He didn’t mean it, he’s under stress. Don’t let him-

            “You’re weak Yue. I can’t always come running to your damn rescue all the damn time.”

            I lost it.

            “Come to my rescue? I’m sorry confiding in you is me being weak!” I cried.

            Zuko’s eyes widen at my tone. The way his face paled, seemingly recognizing how out of hand this bitter argument has gotten. But I was passed the point of being understanding – he said things that he knew would trigger me. “Yue you know I didn’t mean it like that-”

            “No Zuko, you did. And you know what, you’re wrong. Because the truth is; I punched Mai in the face, and I loved it. I almost killed Kayto during our damn walk, but I kept it a secret. And last night, I had your sister cowering away from me. So if you want to be next on my list, keep on talking.”

            Zuko rose his hands, a grimace on his face as he dubiously stepped forward, “Baby, I didn’t mean it-”

            I pulled away from his reach, my chest heaving as I shuddered. His eyes were soft, almost pleading, and it was then I realized I was crying. Fuck me and being such a damn crybaby, no wonder he thinks I’m weak. Maybe he’s right – I’m just a damn burden to everyone. “Leave me alone, Zuko. Dinner’s almost made, eat by yourself-”

            “Babe no, I’m sorry, I’m stressed and-”

            I shook my head, turning on my heel - storming away as I flung the door open, “Where are you going? Yue!” I ignored Zuko’s shouts, and also ignored the fact that I wore nothing but damn house slippers. The sand stuck to my bare feet, a few random pebbles jabbing into my skin, “Come back, please-”

            The sound of his heavy footsteps on the wooden floors behind me, as I furiously kicked the sand underneath me, “Yue, where are you going?”

            “Away from you!” I shrieked, turning around to face him. Zuko stood at the front entrance, face dropped, and I irritably wiped my tears, “I just wanted to help you relax while getting things done, and all you do is get mad!”

            At this point, a few guards heard my shout, hesitantly watching, unsure whether to get me back into the house. “I’ll do anything for you, Zuko – I just want you to be happy!”

            “You do make me happy-”

            “Obviously not if I’m stressing you out!” And with that, I turned on my heel and stomped away.

            I didn’t know where in the world I was going, and I didn’t care. I needed to get away, get from this crazy life I ran myself into.

            I could hear Zuko shout after me, but he didn’t dare chase me, and for that – I was grateful.

            The setting sun cast mellow dramatic hues of red and yellow along the water, the foam sticking to my feet as I savagely kicked the ground over and over. I knew he was stressed, I knew he didn’t mean those things, but it hurt.

            And it didn’t hurt the same way when Mai said it or his sister, even Kayto – it hurt more. Because Zuko meant everything to me.

            Another sob bubbled up, and I dropped to my knees. Crying in my hands as my body quivered. My eyes hurt, nose runny as I wailed like dying animal. He’s right – I’m weak. I cry over everything. I cry whenever I get frustrated or happy or angry. And sitting here alone as I wept made a longing that I’ve pushed away for years come back.

            I wanted mom and dad.

            Their touch, their laughter, everything – I missed it all.

            Dad’s terrible jokes, mom’s stubborn attitude. If only I didn’t listen to dad that day –running away like how he told me to, and I stayed with them. If I fought.

            Would they be alive? Would I still be living in the Earth Nation – with them, happy? But I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to meet Zuko-

            I hissed under my breath.

            “Why did you say those things to me?” I hiccupped, only then raising my head to look around. The beautiful white house of ours long in the distance. How long did I walk for? I sighed, my feet hurt and it’s getting dark out…

            “Here-”

            A white handkerchief appeared right in my face, catching me off guard as I tumbled backwards. My eyes widen, sniffling as the hand followed my fall. I sat on the ground, speechless, meeting a pair of stunning blue eyes, “You need it more than I do.” A man murmured under his breath – voice rough and strained.

            He was older, skin tanned and brown hair pulled back into a tight bun, “Take it.” He hissed, and instinctively, I grabbed the napkin from him – his tone demanding.

            My fingers brushed against his coarse skin, bringing the clean cloth to my face as I wiped my tears, “T-thank you.” I muttered, still taken off guard. I didn’t hear him come in front of me. Was I crying that loud? Gosh, I probably look terrible.

            The man sighed, stopping my thoughts as he sat down next to me, looking conflicted with himself. The way he tapped his stubby fingers on his knees, watching the waves ease up the sand, and then back into the vast body of water. Stealing a few seashells along the way.

            And being myself, I shamelessly studied him. His dark coloured blue robes. He didn’t dress particularly fancy – rather plain. Simple slacks and shirt, no accessories on him or any ink or piercings. Maybe he lives in the town? Going for an evening stroll…I would do that same if I lived in such a lovely town. But it was his eyes that really had me mesmerized.

            They were a deep blue, and they lacked life.

            Void of emotions – and based on the wrinkles and scars that ran across his exposed skin, I could tell he lived a hard life. He couldn’t be old – maybe early thirties? But his indifferent expression made him seem older. He abruptly turned to face me, his thin lips pressed together as he stared at me.

            His gaze was intense, having me cowering away internally, “What happened?” He blurted. My eyes widen, frowning as I shrugged my shoulders, “N-nothing.”

            “I ain’t stupid little girl. Boyfriend issues?” I coloured, looking at the water, was it that obvious? He let out a long sigh, running his hands against his pronounced jawline as he watched me, “Y-you like nature?”

            But this time his tone was a bit different. He stuttered for a minute before finishing his sentence. I smiled, nodding my head, “Y-yeah…my mom used to take me sightseeing.” His expression hardened, nodding at my words.

            Silence…

            My breathing relaxed, playing with the fabric between my fingers. I knew Zuko would kill me if he found out I was sitting on the beach with some random man and his handkerchief. But…he didn’t seem like a threat. Just scary looking.

            And I laughed under my breath.

            “You’re right…” I wheezed, bringing my knees closer to my chest, the breeze kissing my skin and causing goosebumps to appear. The man snickered, shaking his head, “What did he do?”

            “What makes you think it was his fault?”

            “Something tells me your boyfriend is an idiot.” I snorted. Whoever this man was – had no idea who I was. If only he knew that he was insulting the Fire Lord. “He’s not an idiot…he’s just…”

            “An idiot?”

            We both snorted, laughing softly as he bared a soft smile. A smile that oddly suited him. “Well – it’s not like I have anything better to do with my life. So enlighten me – what happened.”

            I looked at him, “You want to hear about my relationship problems?”

            “Like I said; I have nothing better to do at the moment. So amuse me, little girl.”

            “I’m not little…” I grumbled under my breath, and the man rolled his eyes, “Yet you cried like a child.”

            “H-hey!” I gasped, and the man grinned, seemingly enjoying the rose he got out of me. “Just because I show how I feel doesn’t make me a child.”

            “Wouldn’t know, I don’t do emotions.”

            “You can’t not not do emotions. They just come.”

            “Does this face look like a face filled with emotions.”

            The way he looked at me, face stone cold with narrowed eyes, and I giggled. “You know, just because you don’t show your emotions so obviously, doesn’t mean you have none. You seem like someone who cares…but…they’re good at hiding it.” I spoke, not really taking account that I just met this stranger.

            He scoffed, rolling his crystal coloured eyes as he picked up a few tiny seashells. The way he flicked them off his palm, like some sort of game, “Do you pick apart your boyfriend the same way?” I smiled, looking at the water as I thought of Zuko.

            Zuko was probably one of the frustrating and fascinating people I’ve ever had the honour of knowing.

            He was sweet and harsh, handsome and cute, just the embodiment of opposites. You never did know what you were getting. And while most people would get annoyed dealing with someone, someone who couldn’t go a damn hour without running off to attend some political matter – I could.

            Because now that I saw through that façade of Zuko’s – I realize Aang was right. Zuko was rough along the edges, but Zuko was a good guy. The things he said, the way his eyes glazed over and screamed my name as I stormed off, “He said mean things to me…he’s stressed and I know he didn’t mean it but…”

            My voice trailed off. Looking at the different tones of white sand that we sat on. I knew Zuko didn’t mean those words, but I was still upset. Just with everything going on, a large pout formed on my lips as I huffed.

            “You love him?” The man beside me grumbled, shaking his head as if loving someone was something to be disappointed about.

            I nodded, biting my lip as I brushed my hair behind my ear, “I love him a lot…” The man snickered, shaking his head at my words. “Do you love someone?” I asked, curious to learn about this strange man. He scoffed, and I rolled my eyes, “Let me guess – you don’t do love.”

            The man glanced at me with an amused look as he scratched his chin, “Depends. Some would say I’m driven by love, while others would say I’m driven by everything but love.”

            He watched the way I pouted, ready to ask more questions, but he glared, “You’re a curious one.” I reddened, looking back at the water. “Yeah…my boyfriend tells me all the time.”

            In fact, Zuko tells me tons of things.

            He always says how smart I am, how beautiful I am and how he wants a family with me and- “Thank you.”

            The man turned his head to me once again, brows pinched together as he looked at me with a puzzled look, “For what? I gave you a napkin.”

            “For helping me feel better about the fight with my boyfriend.”

            The man rolled his eyes, starting to shift in the sand as he stood. I followed his lead, dusting off the sand that stuck to my summer dress. I have to wash my feet for sure, I hate the feeling of sand between my toes.

            I held the napkin, turning to the man, “Your handkerchief…” I mumbled, and the man scrunched his nose. “Keep it…” And I realized why. It was kinda dirty because of me. I pouted, pulling the fabric to my chest, “If you come tomorrow in the morning, I can give it to you washed-”

            “Don’t bother.” He mumbled, crossing his arms as he huffed, “Go, little girl. It’s late.”

            I nodded. But despite knowing that the sun was almost set and I had a bit of walking to do, my feet didn’t leave. I studied the man in front of me. He was tall, a large build, sharp features, but I was once again absorbed in his eyes. His blue eyes, they reminded me of someone, and I smiled softly.

            “You’re a really good person.” I hummed, and the man’s eyes widen. The way his thin lips parted, shaking his head, “Only for today.” I tilted my head at his words, puzzled. He seemed to be speaking in code this whole time. “Why only for today…?”

            “It’s my birthday.”

            My eyes widen, jumping upwards as I clapped, “Happy birthday! I hope you got to spend it with family and friends.” He nodded, shrugging his shoulders, “…I did – family.”

            I took a few steps back, smiling and waving, “I’m glad, and don’t forget – everyone has a bit of good and bad in them, but it’s up to us to decide what side we want people to see.” The man smiled, arms crossed as he nodded his head. A smile, it really did suit that grumpy face of his.

            “Hope to see you soon, mister!” I chirped, before turning on my heel to go back to Zuko.

            I didn’t know who that man was, but he had some good in him. He looked scary, and he spoke roughly, but he seemed kind. I held the handkerchief closer to my chest, skipping back to my beacon, home.

            The lights from inside the house glistened against the white stone, the sky dark and the moon shining. A few guards spotted me, their faces bearing soft smiles and relief. But they never approached me, just gave me hidden smiles. I really shouldn’t have left like that, I probably made everyone worry.

            My hand reached forward, turning the knob with ease, surprised it was left unlocked. I pushed the door slowly, my head peeking through and letting my body slip inside with ease. The house was eerily quiet, but it didn’t take long for my eyes to spot Zuko. It was like a natural skill of mine, being able to detect that man from miles away.

            He slouched in the couch, face in hands, grumbling to himself and I frowned. No matter how upset I was, it hurt seeing him like that. My fingers glided along the door edge, trying to shut the door soundlessly, but the clicking sound caught Zuko’s attention.

            His head shot upwards, eyes wide the moment he spotted me.

            I didn’t get a chance to breathe, let alone think.

            Zuko jumped from his seat, hastily running to me. The way his arms wrapped around my body, pressing me so close to his chest, stuffing his face into my neck. I gasped, wincing at his tight grip but he didn’t loosen – instead, he hugged me tighter.

            “Z-Zuko I can’t breath.” I groaned, but he just scoffed, ignoring my pleas as his hands ran up my hair and back, “I thought you left me.”

            My body stiffen, inching away slightly to look at his face. His eyes were glossy and red, and it clicked. Was he crying? I really frightened him- “Zuko,” I whispered, my hands reaching to cradle his face. Was he insane? He thought I would leave him? Sure we fought, but I wouldn’t leave him over a damn argument.

            I wouldn’t leave him because things in life were starting to get tough. I loved him – and that meant through the good and bad times. Because that was what love was.

            “I shouldn’t have said those things – I just took everything out on you for no reason and-”

            “No Zuko I’m sorry for leaving like that. I know you’re stressed and I’m sorry for-”

            But Zuko pulled away, a scowl on his face as he looked at me with bewilderment, “Why are you apologizing? You did nothing wrong! It was literally all me.” He huffed, staring at me with such disbelief. I frowned, biting my lip, “Because I know you didn’t mean anything you said, but I let it get to me and-”

            “There’s no and Yue. I hurt you, I should be the one on my knees begging for you to stay, for your forgiveness.” And I grimaced because the look on Zuko’s face killed me.

            He looked so worn out, hands running through his hair as he stared at me. “I just get so fucking scared. I know you can handle yourself, everyone tells me how strong you are but just the thought of something happening makes me sick to my stomach.”

            I opened my mouth to calm him, but he was faster. The way Zuko’s hands grabbed my hips, pressing me up against the front door. His forehead against mine, cheeks flushed, as we stared into each other’s golden eyes. “I don’t know why I said those things, I just get so overwhelmed whenever things involve you. I-it’s like I change. I ruled this Nation for years without an issue, and you come along, and the thought of tying my damn shoes overwhelms me.”

            The way Zuko spoke, words flowing out of his mouth in a jumble. His cheeks were glowing, forehead scrunched upwards as he struggled to breathe. “I love you – and I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you. For when Mai said whatever she said to you. When you fought with Kayto and my sister-”

            My hands cupped his face, feeling his fair skin underneath my fingers. “And Yue…you’re not weak. I never meant that. You’re the strongest person I’ve met. The most patient and beautiful woman I know.” My cheeks flushed hearing his words, trying to look away as I bit my lips, tears threatening to pool over. Because hearing those words slip out of those precious lips made my stomach flutter and heart pound.

            But Zuko's hands trailed upwards, cupping my face in his hands and forcing me to gaze at him once again. The way his thumb trailed along my lips, my lips parting as we stood so close to each other. “I promise, tomorrow, we train. And you can kick my ass all fucking day.” I cracked a smile, laughing softly. The way Zuko chuckled, his breath tickling my lips.

             I let my fingers trail along Zuko’s jaw, his eyes studying my lips, and my eyes staring at his. The way Zuko’s chest rose, his thumb rubbing my bottom lip tenderly. “I love you, please don’t leave again. I-I’ve had so many people walk out of my life, and if you walk out to I-” With an affectionate peck, I shut Zuko up.

            I knew of the pain.

            The loss.

            The want.

            My eyes fluttered close, feeling him press me up against the front door as I hummed softly. His plush lips against mine, the way we danced to a sweet tune – a single song that only we shared. Zuko groaned, his hands intertwining with mine, spreading them against the wall behind us. I gasped, the kiss turning from a sweet dance to a possessive want – a need.

            “I love you, Zuko.” I gasped, hands held against the wall, loving the feeling of being completely engulfed by Zuko. His lips turned upwards, my eyes fluttering open as he playfully rubbed the tip of his nose against mine, “Go wash up, I’ll heat up dinner to eat.”

            “You didn’t eat yet?”

            The way Zuko looked at me, surprised that I would even ask such a question. “Of course not, not without you. I’ll set the bath and heat the water for you, and while you bathe, I’ll set up dinner.” I smiled, his hands untangling from mine, watching him step back. And before I knew it, my mouth opened. Asking him a question that had been itching my mind the moment I got here, “Zuko…were you crying?”

            The way Zuko tensed, looking over his shoulder with the brightest red tinge. He looked like he got caught red-handed, holding a flustered look as he struggled to speak, “Hurry up and get that cute little ass of yours inside that bathtub before I change my mind of heating up the water for you.” He grumbled, shyly walking away while rubbing his head.

            A grin painted my face, giggling as I eagerly skipped behind him.

            I got my answer.

Copyright © 2019 Mystic-Kitten, inc. all rights reserved. No reposting, modifying, or translations of any kind allowed. Thank you for your cooperation.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters portrayed in this story besides Ying Yue Jiang, Lia, Kima, and any future creations.

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

[demialwrites]

Torn Between Frost and Flame Ch 2

When it was time for the baby to come, you purposely omitted sending someone to fetch Aglovale. You still felt guilty. He appeared at your side regardless, with a hand for you to hold.

"If your grip strength is any indication of how healthy the baby is, we won't have to worry," he joked.

He stuck with you through this ordeal just as he had during conception. When told the baby was born healthy, he glowed proudly. He didn't falter when learning it was a girl

"You did well," he praised you. "I hope you don't mind when I say I hope she takes after my mother."

"Oh, no! It's fine. That would be great." You had never met her, but based on what Percival told you and the stories you had heard, she was the gentlest, kindest woman.

He placed his hand on your shoulder. "May she take after you if not."

You smiled wearily up at him. A nurse handed you your new baby girl. You were busy inspecting her squishy little face so you didn't notice her hair colour at first. She only had wispies but they were definitely...red. Like Percival's. Aglovale asked to hold her next and you wordlessly let him take her.

You did love your baby girl. That feeling was definitely there. But you were mainly seized by shock and your thoughts were racing, trying to figure out what the consequences of this would be. You didn't notice Aglovale ask a nurse for some formula to give the girl her first meal.

You threw yourself into taking care of the baby like you had done so with your job. Your husband didn't mention her suspicious hair colour and you were afraid to bring it up yourself; would he love her less because of it? Instead, he kept pressing you about the tiny girl's name. It was obvious why right away. He really wanted to name her after his late mother. Herzeloyde. Your only gripe was that it was a mouthful so he had his way, of course. You decided to just give her the nickname, "Herza."

Percival rushed home as soon as he heard the good news, that you had birthed a healthy baby girl. He was even more anxious to get home when he heard about the girl's name. He very much agreed with his older brother. If Aglovale hadn't named his daughter after their mother, Percival would have. He wished very much to feel like he still had a connection to her.

Aglovale was busy with state business so Percival met you alone to see his new niece. Was it him, or were you hesitating to show him the new baby? He exchanged glances with you, and you seemed to realize you had to and decided to get it over with. Which was even more concerning to him. You pulled the blanket back from the top of the baby's head.

No, it couldn't be.

The baby had fine hair but it was obvious that it was red. Percival was simultaneously hot and cold. He didn't want to believe it but his twisting gut told him otherwise.

"Do you want to...?" you asked.

He took the baby from your arms to cradle her in his. Holding her up, closer to his face, he was enchanted. He gazed into the face of who might be his baby girl. His tiny, precious daughter. With the one love he wished he didn't have to give up. You. All the discipline he had since you become engaged to his brother crumbled in the face of this baby. His body language reflected this; he stood close, blocking the baby girl from anyone else's view. The only moment he could pretend the three of you were a family.

"Isn't she beautiful?"

Aglovale had approached you both, unseen. Reluctantly, Percival stepped back in deference to signal to Aglovale could join. Aglovale smiled like normal but with an edge. There was a tension in the air but it was most heated between the two brothers. Percival faced his brother proudly but his expression was stiff like he was keeping himself from crumbling again. You felt like the outsider and took a small step back, hoping they didn't notice.

Aglovale held out his arms and Percival immediately handed the baby over.

"Isn't your daughter beautiful?" Aglovale said evenly to Percival.

Percival's lips parted in awe. "You knew?"

"Herza was born eight and half months after the wedding," said Aglovale.

Percival hesitated, letting that sink in, then nodded. "Yes, Brother."

Aglovale cradled your daughter closer, smiling softly down at her. "I told anyone who asked that we couldn't wait for the wedding day to consummate."

You took a controlled, deep breath. You couldn't imagine many people questioning a man like Aglovale but that he made up an excuse for something you did...you didn't know what to think about that. Your daughter should have been born to a union between you and Percival. Instead, you were married to his older brother and he was wonderful to you. You couldn't fault either of them but it was clear that your daughter was Percival's.

"I have duties," Aglovale announced after some silence.

Percival nodded. He couldn't think of anything to say before and he couldn't now. Aglovale handed the baby back to you. You didn't realize you felt incomplete in that short time until you were holding her again. You closed your eyes, cuddled Herza really close, and inhaled her scent. No matter what happened, you couldn't live without her.

You parted from Percival. Aglovale walked with you partway back to the nursery. You were still conflicted, like you wanted to apologize to him but should you have to? He gave you a parting kiss, which you took as a good sign. Not to mention, the butterflies fluttering whenever he showed you affection. He walked away and you stayed glued to the spot. You sighed. Who did you love more? Your husband or the father of your child?

Apart from a few people coming to ask some last questions about your previous job to tidy things, you had some peaceful time with your daughter for the next few days. Your feelings for Percival had you flying higher than usual. He was nearby and you could sort of pretend he could be a father to Herza.

You convinced yourself that he should spend time with her so you went to his rooms. You nearly dropped your baby when you saw him packing.

"Where are you going!?" you asked, not bothering to conceal your disappointment.

"I don't know why you're asking me that." He continued to pack. "I must go. I can't be near you. If anyone notices that Herza looks like me, it will look bad for my brother."

You huffed. "Why should it be about him? What about you? And Herza?!"

Percival stopped to face you with a soft, sad expression. "Her father is Aglovale. We must maintain that illusion." He resumed packing.

You took a step forward. "Did he put you up to this?"

"Yes but I agree."

You wanted to yell at him about the unfairness of him leaving and without either of them asking your opinion.

"Let me hold her," he said.

You gave her to him quickly, then hovered. Or tried not to. You were really, really hoping seeing her face would trigger a change of heart. Looking at her gave him that stiff expression like at the wedding.

He looked at you. "She needs a stable life. Not being dragged around by me. You wouldn't want to take care of a baby while travelling."

He carefully passed her back. You teetered on the edge of knowing he was right. Your heart was in your stomach and the pain of separation poisoned the edges. Percival felt long gone, even though he was still within arms' length.

[elsaclack]

the smell of coffee runs through my veins

or,

five times jake smells like fresh coffee grounds (and one time he doesn’t)

hi @winnietherpooh!!! so i wasn’t originally your assigned writer for the @b99fandomevents summer 2019 fic exchange, but they unfortunately had to drop out due to some unforeseen circumstances, so i stepped in!! i loved all of your ideas, but i decided to go with a jake/amy coffee shop au (with a liiiiiiiittle bit of jake/rosa friendship thrown in for good measure). it’s also the first time i’ve successfully finished a 5 times fic ahhh!!! i hope you like it!!! 

He smells like fresh coffee grounds.

She isn’t sure what to do with that, at first. She just honestly wasn’t that into coffee. It always played the role of a last-resource fuel to keep her awake when all else failed - never something to be independently enjoyed in an otherwise leisurely setting.

It makes sense, then, that she falls in love with a man who loves coffee.

He smells like fresh coffee grounds on the morning she meets him, looking haggard and disheveled at five in the morning, the stains on his flannel shirt just visible in the early morning light. Shattered glass litters the sidewalk just outside of his coffee shop’s door, catching the flickering street lights above them like urban diamonds forgotten in the rough. There’s another man, a shorter, older-looking man, pacing back and forth in the street just beyond the curb, looking more like a worried first-time father outside of a delivery room than a man whose place of business was robbed overnight.

Rosa is busy examining the busted windowpane in the door, so Amy turns to the shop-owner - whose stained flannel shirt smells like fresh coffee grounds despite him not even entering the store yet that morning.

“My name is Detective Santiago, and I’ll be the lead detective on this case.” 

He shakes her hand and manages to flash a smile - albeit a shaky one. “I’m Jake,” he says, “Jake Peralta.”

His hand is warm, and when she pulls her hand back to her side, the faintest scent of coffee grounds wafts toward her.

It’s a B&E - security cameras from the flower shop across the alley caught images of three perps hauling off through the back door with armfuls of merchandise and a particularly heavy-looking espresso machine - and within four hours Amy and Rosa are cuffing all three and calling in assistance to recover the merchandise from an apartment in the Bronx. The espresso machine is toast - apparently they dropped it three times in their attempt to escape unseen - but other than the general stench of cigarettes clinging to the merchandise, everything else is relatively unscathed.

The open sign hanging in the shop window is turned off, the front door is locked, but Amy manages to spot Jake through the window inside the shop as she approaches. He darts to the door immediately to let her in, looking anxious and hopeful in a way that makes her stomach bottom out despite her best efforts to remain unaffected. He up and hugs her when she tells him they solved it - and it’s like the scent of fine Colombian coffee has come to life and enveloped her fully.

(She wonders, briefly, if this is the kind of sensation Manny gets when he talks about food being so good that it’s all-consuming.)

“Do you like coffee?” he asks once they’ve parted.

“I love it,” she hears herself say.

His grin is brilliant, nearly blinding, and he trips over his own shoelaces as he quickly backs away from her. “Great,” he says as he rounds the far end of the front counter. “This one’s on the house. In fact, all of ‘em are. Forever.”

“Oh - you’re very generous, but I can’t accept -”

“Sure, you can,” he interrupts loudly. “Your money’s no good here, detective.”

She stares for a beat, biting the inside of her cheek to tamp down her smile. “It’s, uh, Amy,” she finally says - and some of the frenetic energy that overtook him moments earlier seems to dissipate, if only slightly.

“Amy,” he repeats, voice low and warm in a way that sends a thrill down her spine.

He smells like fresh coffee grounds every morning she returns - which is often, for a person who doesn’t drink coffee. The windowpane is replaced after a few days and the shop is reopened for business, and every morning she stops by on her way to work, he greets her loudly by name and introduces her to every other customer in the shop as the detective who saved the store.

“I’m just sorry I couldn’t save the espresso machine,” she says on the fourth morning, pointing up to the chalk-written menu hanging behind the counter - at the COMING SOON written over the line that advertised espressos before.

“It’s fine, it’s why I’ve got insurance,” he shrugs. “New machine should be here by Thursday of next week, which means we’ll  have it up and running for the Friday morning rush. Here, try this one - I added a couple of shots of cinnamon. I think you’re gonna really like it.”

(She does.)

Charles, Jake’s cook, takes a shining to Amy right away - in addition to the free coffee, she often finds herself juggling several pastry bags on her walk to her car. Some are certainly better than others; while Jake seems to be learning about what Amy likes and dislikes and customizing her drink accordingly, Charles tends to be a far more adventurous eater and seizes any opportunity to expand Amy’s palate.

“It’s a poppy seed bagel with a wasabi-infused cream cheese, drizzled with a caramelized citrus simple syrup,” he tells her proudly one morning while loading the bagel into a pastry bag. He’s pressed up against the edge of the counter, leaning toward Amy as he speaks; it’s how he misses Jake’s exaggerated gag from by the register, earning a nervous laugh from Amy. “I know the flavors don’t sound like they’ll go together, but trust me, it’s delicious. You’ll love it.”

(She doesn’t.)

“You can tell him you hate it, y’know,” Jake tells her after Charles walks away.

She shoots him a look as she straightens her blazer. “I don’t wanna break his heart,” she sighs, and he nods in understanding. “Besides, not everything he gives me is inedible. I like poppy seed bagels. And the citrus stuff actually sounded kind of good -”

“It’s really adorable that you’re trying to be gentle with him, but I hired him to make, like, blueberry scones and chocolate chip muffins. Stuff that normal people want to eat when they go to a coffee shop. If you don’t nip this in the bud, he’s gonna want to try to sell that stuff again and I’m not about to have that fight for the fourth time -”

“Alright, alright,” she interrupts, briefly raising both hands in defeat before snatching her briefcase, the pastry bag, and the to-go cup of coffee from the counter. “I’ll tell him the next time I’m in.”

“So, tomorrow,” Jake says.

Heat drips from the tips of her ears, but there is no judgement or derision in his expression - just expectancy, as if her presence is a given. “Actually, it’s - tomorrow is, um, my day off,” she stammers, “so I don’t know if -”

“Oh.” She’s fairly certain there’s disappointment in his voice - his shoulders definitely dropped, his gaze definitely lowered to the countertop between them. “Sorry, that was presumptuous -”

“No, no, it’s - I mean, I’ve been in here every other morning this week, so -”

“Well, uh, hey, have a good day off -”

“I might still -”

“You don’t have to -”

“I’ll be here.”

He pauses, a crease appearing between his brows. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll be here,” she repeats, “but maybe not ‘til after the morning rush.”

He smiles, the dimples in his cheek flashing. “I’ll see you then,” he says with a two-fingered salute.

He smells like fresh coffee grounds at the end of the day, battle-worn and weary but smiling and groaning in all the right places as she recounts her harrowing arrest of a man with a bag of human ears on the subway earlier that day. The hysteria of it all had taken up most of her day - she was only able to break away from paperwork at eight o’clock this evening, putting her on the coffee shop’s front stoop at precisely nine-oh-three, three minutes after closing.

Which of course didn’t stop Jake from holding the door open for her as he insisted she come inside. It turns out he had quite the day as well - his afternoon barista called in sick, leaving him with a sixteen-hour workday she unwittingly extended. “Stop apologizing,” he tells her as he passes her a mug full of steaming decaf coffee. “This isn’t work.”

His eyes are bloodshot and his eyelids seem to stick together every time he blinks, but he’s awake, he’s invested in her story, and there’s something a little different about the way he smells tonight - like the fresh coffee ground scent infused in his very atoms has blended with something spicier, something tangier. He’s slouching in his seat, legs splayed out wildly beneath the table, and even with one leg bouncing he’s practically emanating exhaustion.

“I should go,” Amy says for the third time. “You’re practically falling asleep over there.”

“You don’t have to,” he says, voice quiet and worn. “I think I have some stuff here to help me stay awake.”

She laughs, and he grins, eyes twinkling in the low light. “You’ve had a really long day, Jake.”

“So have you,” he reminds her, tone taking on the faintest edge of a disgruntled toddler refusing to nap. “You don’t see me trying to kick you out.”

“I don’t have to be at work at five in the morning,” she reminds him, and he rolls his eyes, a strangled grunt escaping his throat. “You really, really should go get some sleep.”

“I don’t wanna,” he mumbles, crossing his arms a little tighter over his chest. “This’s been the best part of my day. I don’t want it to end.”

“I’m the best part of your day?” she asks skeptically, ignoring the now-familiar thrill in the pit of her stomach to focus on the blush igniting in his cheeks. “I didn’t know you loved me so much, Peralta.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles, “I had a bunch of, like, snooty soccer moms come in and bitch me out because I didn’t make their mocha chai lattes with extra whip and extra sprinkles at the exact right temperature, and then they all blasted the shop with one-star reviews on Yelp,” he leans forward to bury his face in his hands. “And then Daisy called out sick, and Charles tried to crucify me over some oregano or something. Today sucked, and you’re, like, super nice, and I like talking to you because you don’t yell at me about coffee or oregano.”

It’s quiet for a beat - and then Amy finds herself leaning forward, her fingers closing over his left forearm. His skin his just as warm as she remembers; his eyes liquid and piercing as he peers at her through his fingers. “I’m sorry today sucked,” she murmurs sincerely. “D’you want me to track all of those soccer moms down and arrest them for disorderly conduct?”

He snorts and drops his hands to the table, and she quickly retracts her hand. “Maybe,” he says with a pseudo-thoughtful nod. He studies her face for a moment, his gaze darting over her face as she pulls a long drink from her coffee. “Thanks, Ames,” he says softy.

It’s quiet enough that she almost misses it, but he holds her gaze when she meets his eyes. “For what?” she asks.

He shrugs. “Being you. You just - you always know what to say.”

“Well that’s definitely not true, but - you’re welcome.”

He hugs her right outside the coffee shop, and she hugs him back - he’s warm and soft in that unique half-asleep way, and she curls her fingers into the loose folds of his flannel shirt, fighting back the urge to squeeze him to her as hard as she can. He’s slow to pull away, slow to retreat; it’s not until he’s a good ten feet away that he finally raises his hand in farewell, nearly tripping over a stray cafe table from the bistro next door to the shop before turning his back and walking away in earnest.

She can still smell that spicy, tangy something wafting off of her blazer when she gets home.

He smells like fresh coffee grounds when Amy finally convinces Rosa to come back to the coffee shop with her - a good four months after the case officially ended. By then Jake’s perfected Amy’s entirely unique order and has had it added to the menu; The Santiago Special now graces the bottom of the left hand side of the chalkboard, written in Daisy’s perfect looping scrawl.

“Detective Diaz!” Jake leans across the counter to shake Rosa’s hand as they approach, looking every bit as thrilled as Amy hoped he would be. “Welcome back! It’s good to see you again, how have you been?”

“Fine.” Rosa grunts, already scanning the menu over Jake’s head. “What d’you recommend?”

“Well, what do you like?”

“Coffee.”

It’s silent for a beat - and then Jake seems to realize she won’t be expanding any further. “I can respect that.” he says, casting beneath the counter for the already-opened bags of coffee grounds they keep stored there. “Sweet or savory?”

She ponders it a moment, lips pursing slightly. “Sweet.” she finally says.

“You got it. Regular for you, Ames?”

“Obviously.”

He flashes her a grin over the countertop before setting about working, and Rosa leans against the edge of the counter, seemingly taking in the rest of the shop. “It’s nice,” she finally says as she returns her attention to Amy’s face. “I can see why you like it so much. Is all of this artwork local?”

“The paintings are,” Jake confirms as he measures out coffee grounds. “The photography isn’t. A lot of those are stock photos that came with the frames - I just needed to fill empty space when I first moved in here, but I didn’t have the budget for legitimate photography. I’ve been meaning to take them down, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“There’s a farmer’s market not too far from here that sometimes has a photographer selling in a booth,” says Rosa. “She’s pretty good. You should check her out.”

“You go to a farmer’s market?” Amy asks incredulously.

Jake snorts as Rosa rolls her eyes. “I’ll definitely check her out. Are there any painters there? Like, murialists, I should say?”

Rosa frowns thoughtfully. “I don’t know,” she says. “I mean I’ve seen some people selling paintings, but I’ve never stopped and asked. I usually go for the fruit, the locally sourced honey, and the pottery.”

“You’re into pottery?”

“No.”

Jake pauses, a peculiar grin on his face. “Aren’t you partners? Shouldn’t you guys know, like, everything about each other? Or did the cop movies lie to me about that, too?”

“Well up until about sixty seconds ago, I thought we did know everything about each other,” Amy sniffs. Slowly, Rosa shakes her head, eyes never leaving the corner of the menu board. “Is your name even Rosa?”

Rosa turns her head, holding Amy’s gaze. “No. It’s Emily Goldfinch.”

“Oh, ha-ha, very funny.”

“I’m not kidding.” Before Amy can get another word in, Rosa returns her attention to Jake. “Are you thinking of putting a mural on that wall?”

“Yeah, but I really want to find a local artist who won’t charge out the ass for it, y’know?”

“Amy paints.”

“Wha- I don’t - I mean -”

Amy splutters as they both turn to look at her. “You paint?” Jake asks, the corners of his lips quirked upwards.

“I mean I - I sort of - I’m not that good -”

“She’s excellent,” Rosa interrupts, “I’ve seen some of her stuff. I think it would fit in with the vibe you’ve got going in here.”

“Well, I’d probably pay out the ass for you to paint a mural in here,” Jake says, abandoning the coffee grounds to plant both hands on the counter. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course, but I’d love to talk to you about it.”

“Um - I mean -”

“Take some time to think about it,” he says, moving to resume making their coffees. “I’ll ask again later.”

Amy’s still staring when Jake slides their cups across the counter - on Amy’s sleeve, he’s written Ames, and on Rosa’s, he’s written Emily??

“I like him.” Rosa says once they’re back in Amy’s car. “He’s funny. You should paint the mural.”

“I don’t know if I’m good enough to paint an entire mural,” she mutters, tucking her cup into her cupholder and starting the car.

“You won’t ever know until you try. And I think that this is the place where you should really try.”

There’s something significant to Rosa’s tone, something meaningful in the slant of her head and the angle of her brows, but there’s traffic coming, and they’re three minutes late coming back from their break, so Amy just heaves a sigh as she pulls out of her parking spot.

He smells like fresh coffee grounds when he hands her a shirt with the shop’s logo on it - a simple, minimalist drawing of a coffee mug on a plate in side profile, thin white lines against dark blue material - and he’s grinning like a fool when she pulls it on over her ratty painting clothes.

“You’re officially on payroll,” he declares, dragging a table backward to make more room. “Welcome aboard.”

“Thank god, I was really struggling to make ends meet.”

He laughs outright at that, pausing halfway through dragging two chairs away. “Please,” he says once he’s recovered, “you probably have, like, eight savings accounts.”

“I have one, thank you very much.”

He’s still chortling as he drags the last table away - leaving an empty stretch of wall sprawled before her, a slate-grey canvas that stretches from floor to ceiling. She’s got sketches taped around the outer edges of her work space and a respectable collection of paints and brushes clustered together on the floor to her left; from the corner of her eye she sees Jake draw even with her to her right as she studies the space, staring at the wall as well. “It’s gonna look great,” he assures her.

“I just feel bad that you have to be closed for two full days.” she says as she turns toward him. “That’s a lot of money you’re losing out on.”

“I’d rather miss out on two days of business and have an incredible piece of artwork done by an incredible person than be open for one more day with lame stock photos on the wall.” he says earnestly, and the tips of her ears burn. “This is gonna bring more people in, Ames. We’ll make our money back in a week.”

“What if the painting sucks?”

“We paint over it with the stuff I have in storage and you start over.”

“That’s another day wasted, though.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t have to deal with any annoying Brooklyn hipsters and I get to hang out with you. That’s not what I’d call a wasted day.”

She bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling too broadly as she turns back toward the wall. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” she reminds him, voice small.

He touches her shoulder, fingers curving over the upper ridge and squeezing as his thumb sweeps down her arm several times. “It’s gonna look great.” he says again. “I’m really, really excited.”

He retreats to a chair dragged to the opposite wall and sits, and Amy inhales deeply, praying he can’t read her nerves despite her shaking hands. It’s a painting, Amy, she reminds herself. Relax.

The first touch of paint to the wall is agonizing, but a split-second later she’s liberated; Jake kicks on music over the shop’s speakers from his phone and she’s back in the groove, like she never left her last college painting class. She pauses only occasionally over the next several hours - for bathroom breaks and lunch and once, briefly, when paint dripped into her coffee - and by the end of the day she’s studying a nearly-completed mural, taking notes on her sketch for areas that need touch-ups when she comes back tomorrow.

“Okay,” Amy says, folding her sketch and tucking it into her pocket with one hand while tucking her pencil behind her ear with the other. “It’s not all-the-way done yet, but it’s mostly done. I just need to do a couple of touch-ups in some spots once the paint is dry, but that’ll take less than an hour tomorrow. What do you think?”

Jake’s silent, an unreadable expression on his face, when Amy turns toward him. He seems almost winded as he slowly stands; his eyes follow each line of the mural, sweeping up and over and down and up again. It’s pretty abstract, considering her penchant for still-lifes, more of an explosion of muted pastels in sharp geometric shapes that fade back into the grey of the wall along the outermost edges. “I love it,” he breathes.

There isn’t a single modicum of insincerity about him, so she tamps down a smile and turns back toward the mural. “I wanted it to feel like Brooklyn, and like the shop itself, which is why it’s kind of modern-looking and has a lot of sharp edges and clean lines, but...I also wanted it to feel the way that I feel when I’m here. Which is why I used pastels.”

From the corner of her eye, she sees him draw up even with her; he’s no longer looking at the mural. “What’s important about pastels?” he murmurs.

“Well, they’re - they’re soft. Cool, but not cold - they’re refreshing, like an oasis. It’s like an unexpected bright spot in the midst of a lot of sameness. They’re sweet, and calming, and - and I just - I really, really, really like them.”

She can’t bring herself to look him in the eye, but she can hear his sharp intake of breath. Tension radiates off of him in waves, and it’s suddenly near-impossible to draw a breath. “I love it,” he repeats, softer than before, and the too-familiar thrill bottoming out in her belly feels like the opening of a bottomless cavern and the smell of coffee grounds grows stronger as he leans closer -

A sharp knock on the window behind her has them both jumping backwards - an unfamiliar face is pressed against the glass, peering inside. “Are you open?” she asks as she jiggles the locked doorknob.

“No.” Jake says back loudly, stepping around Amy to point to the darkened open sign. Amy watches him go, one hand over her heart, the other pressed to her suddenly burning cheek. “We’re not open again until day after tomorrow.”

“Can I get a coffee to go, then?”

“What? No, we’re closed. We’re not making coffee today.”

“There are two of you in there, why can’t one of you make me a coffee?”

“Because we’re closed and we don’t have any coffee to make today. Come back on Tuesday and we’ll have some for you.”

“This is ridiculous, I thought this place was supposed to have good service!”

“It does. When it’s open.”

The would-be customer rolls her eyes and storms off, shouting obscenities and promises to drink only Starbucks moving forward as she goes, and Jake watches her go with his hands on his hips. “There goes another one-star review. You see what I deal with every day?” he mutters as he turns back to Amy.

“Well, at least your place has a reputation for good service,” she tries.

“Oh, you and your silver linings,” he says with an affectionate smile.

The heat still burning in the tips of her ears has spilled down to her cheeks now; slowly, eyes never leaving his face, she steps backwards. “I should - I should let you go -”

“Right, yeah, it’s nine,” he murmurs, glancing at the clock above the front door to confirm. “I’ll, uh, walk you to your car?”

“You’re parked way further away, I should be offering to walk you to your car.”

They both laugh, Amy’s filtered with nerves, and in the dim lighting she can see his throat moving as he swallows. “Maybe - maybe I could walk you to your car, and then you can give me a ride to mine?”

“That’s fair,” she concedes with a nod.

They’re in the front seat of her car ten minutes later, parked behind his beat up old Mustang four blocks away from the shop. He’s in the midst of recounting an exchange not unlike the one they just had with another customer, imitating a high-pitched Long Island accent perfectly with a comically distorted face, a smile twitching across his face with each new peal of laughter from Amy. The tension from earlier has not dissipated, but she finds she doesn’t mind it here - not with him sitting so close, smelling so good, smiling at her like that.

“It’s late,” he finally sighs, patting his palms against his thighs.

It’s not, not really. She’s off tomorrow. “A little,” she murmurs, hoping her reluctance to leave isn’t as evident in her voice as it feels.

He smiles, warm and affectionate, and lets his head fall back against the seat. “The mural is really beautiful,” he says softly. “I can’t wait to see it again tomorrow.”

It’s hard to tell with what limited light is spilling into the cab of her car, but she’s fairly certain he’s looking at her lips; she swallows thickly, and his eyes dart back up to meet hers. “Me either,” she whispers.

She’s not sure if it’s him, or her, or the gravitational pull tugging at her very heart, but the next thing she knows is his lips on hers and his fingers in her hair. He tastes like cocoa and indulgence, like every sweet thing in her life; he sighs against her and shifts closer, and the familiar scent of fresh coffee grounds envelopes her every sense.

He smells like soap, like clean earth, like fresh rain falling on grass and trees, like something spicy and tangy. He’s awake when she opens her eyes - he’s been watching her sleep, she realizes with a touch of embarrassment.

The look of awe-struck wonder in his eyes doesn’t allow the embarrassment to last for long.

“Hi,” he murmurs as she shifts her head on her pillow to look at him more directly.

She laughs and he flushes pink, head dropping down just far enough that the still-damp curls at his hairline brush against her arm. She bites down on the inside of her cheek to keep from reaching out to touch his hair - before realizing that she can do that now, probably.

So she does.

He lifts his head just slightly the moment she cards her fingers through, and his expression is so soft and so affectionate she’s certain her knees would have given out from under her were she standing. “You smell different,” she whispers.

“Different...bad different?”

“No, good. But different. You usually smell like coffee.”

“Well, I typically try not to bathe in it,” he mutters, and his fingers gently close over her elbow bent up against the mattress. “But it’s hard not to smell like coffee all the time when you own a coffee shop.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” she says, grinning as she ruffles his hair. “I’ve actually always loved the way coffee smelled, even if the taste is kind of so-so.”

He furrows his brow, and a split-second later she feels her stomach bottom out. “The taste is kind of so-so?” he repeats, and she retracts her hand to pull his comforter up over her head. “Amy, do you not like coffee?”

There’s laughter in his voice and the mattress beneath them is quaking, and she lets out a groan she’s sure is comically muffled on the other side of the comforter. “I’m - it’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just - before we met, I never really - I mean I did, but only when I was, like, on the verge of passing out asleep at work - I just never really -”

“You said - on the day we met - that you love coffee.”

She flips the comforter down with enough force to bounce them both slightly, earning another volley of giggles from Jake. “Well, I do now!” she half-shouts.

“But you didn’t then?”

“What was I supposed to do? You were really cute and you were being so sweet and I had no idea we’d - that you and I would -”

“Oh, my god, you are so cute when you’re all flustered,” he interrupts, lightly poking her upper arm before curling his fingers around her bicep in earnest. “I’m really glad you lied about liking coffee.”

She rolls her eyes, but can’t fight back the smile spreading across her face. “Me, too. Even though I have a feeling I’ll never live it down.”

“You definitely won’t.”

He leans down before she can retort, and his lips are as soft and warm as they were the night before. His kiss is warm and sweet, thorough and electric, and before long she forgets her embarrassment and instead focuses only on the way his hair feels thick and soft between her fingers.

She’s practically panting by the time he pulls away, her eyelids fluttering open to find him looking down at her with an undeniably satisfied expression on his face, his kiss-bruised lips parted as his own chest heaves. “So glad you lied,” he murmurs before leaning down to quickly nip at her chin.

“I need to take a shower before we go back to the shop,” she says as he rolls out of bed and arches his back. “Do you mind if I use your stuff?”

“Do I mind if you smell like me for the rest of the day? Uh, no,” he winks cheekily as she rolls her eyes. “Towels are in the cabinet to the right of the toilet. I’m gonna make a breakfast run while you’re in there - muffins okay?”

“As long as Charles didn’t make them.”

He laughs as he tugs his shirt on, eyes twinkling with mirth. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t get within a city block of them,” he assures her as she sits up in bed. “Can I get you something other than coffee to drink? Like maybe tea or apple juice?”

Despite his obvious joking tone, she senses the note of sincerity beneath the question - like if she really wanted something other than coffee, he’d take no personal offense. And it’s like all of a sudden, every insecurity of his is laid out bare before her - and she knows he’s not only asking about coffee. “I want coffee,” she assures him, pouring every ounce of conviction into the words. “I’ve been wanting coffee for a long time now.”

He smiles, small and shy, and steps toward the bed to kiss her soundly once more. “You’ve only been up for five minutes,” he murmurs against her lips.

She smacks his shoulders and he laughs, recoiling backwards. “Go get breakfast and I’ll shower and then we can go straight to the shop to finish this mural up. I want to be done before ten.”

“You have other plans today?”

“Yeah, I’m spending the whole day with you, and I’d rather not fight self-entitled hipsters through the shop windows.”

“Fair enough!” he shouts through a broad grin, yanking his jeans up his legs and bounding out the bedroom door. “I’ll be right back!”

It isn’t until well after the front door has slammed shut, after the water has begun pouring out of his showerhead and the steam has enveloped her body, that the scent wafting off of her own skin reaches her consciousness -

She smells like fresh coffee grounds.

[7deadlycinderellas]

If the summer of our lives could just come again, ch31

Ao3 link

 Winterfell

Everyone was beyond exhausted. Bags under the eyes, sluggish movements and dim conversation had become the norm.

Then the mammoth showed up. It’s stride barely even notices the trench, now widened the earth shaking.

The Free Folk all hope that the Night King did not count any of the giants among his soldiers.

Ygritte’s arm shakes as she looses arrow after arrow trying to fell the beast. All the others in line do the same. The arm she took the arrow in has begun to feel warm, but she does not fear corruption so much as reopening the wound.

It’s just as the beast over the castle walls has been hit enough to stumble, that Rowan comes behind the archers to warn of an impending call to the trees, so that they could kneel and brace themselves.

The first time they had had an archer fall clear over the ramparts, his neck broken. He’d risen far too quickly, and they’d been forced to burn him. Remembering it made the hair on the back of Ygritte’s neck stand up. They still hadn’t seen any sign of the Night King.

Close to the pull of sleep, Arya had told her once about it before, muttering with her eyes half closed about how she had stabbed him with her little dagger and he had shattered as if made of glass.

This time, Arya is woken from sleep by the shaking of the earth. She sputters a bit before turning to Ygritte.

“Do they need me back?”

Ygritte shakes her head. Better to let her sleep. Arya was a damn good archer, but there wasn’t much that could be done until the snow let up and the visibility improved.

Other than trying to keep them from climbing the walls.

In the Great Hall, Ned’s shoulder still burned, even as he left his cot. He went against Maester Luwin’s advice the minute he’d heard.

The Hunter’s gate was overrun. Val and the other Free Folk were cutting down all they could see, slashing and cutting down the wights left and right.

“Best we’re trying is to let the bodies pile up and block the opening,” she tells him, hacking at a wight dragging along the ground with her dragon glass axe. “And once they do, we’ll set fire to the lot.”

The plan works, to Ned’s shock. Once the fire is burning and the pile stops twitching, several of the largest of the Free Folk make to block the broken gate with empty wagons full of whatever they can find to weigh them down.

But while they are doing this, a cluster of wights have made their way inside the keep.

The one Ned sees used to be a woman, he thinks. She lumbers, jumping on a young squire from behind, before one of the other squires slices her skull from the rest of her, and scooping her remains into the fire.

With a start, Ned realizes the fighter carrying the dismembered wight is Rickon. His youngest son is now a figured smeared in dirt and blood, his hair slicked with sweat and snow.

Ned spins, following the sounds of the screams, the clang of steel, waiting to find a target he could direct them to. Eventually, a scream he recognizes pierces through.

He follows as fast as he can, finding Robb on the ground, a wight’s teeth sunk into one arm, his other flailing, trying to reach his sword where it had fallen. His arm is already beginning to take on an icy hue.

Ned’s muscles snap as he springs as fast as he can. But his movement isn’t necessary, as the wight is seized by one of the Free Folk and pulled away. But even as the threat is gone, Ned sees Robb’s arm, torn to bits, with lines running down it glowing an eerie unworldly blue.

The sight makes him freeze nearly, the sight of his first born child, the sounds of the battle rattling in the back of his head. His stillness is interrupted when Val comes to him, picks up the sword from the cobblestones and in a single quick movement, with barely a grunt of effort and a sickening crack, severs Robb’s arm at the shoulder.

His screams ring out through Winterfell.

“Give me your torch,” she tells one of the Free Folk, and Ned watches as she holds the fire to the wound until it seals and the smell of perverse cooked meat fills the air.

“Help me get him to the Great Hall,” she orders, and though Ned moves to help, he realizes Val’s words were directed at Gendry off beside him, who takes the fallen torch in one hand, and carefully lift’s Robb’s uninjured arm over his shoulder.

Once they are out of sight, that part of the keep is once again quiet of screams, at least for this moment. Ned’s shoulder burns worse than before.

Ned is later glad that he isn’t on the east side when it happens.

Brienne watches later as Gendry pulls two soldiers onto the back of his horse.

“The same fever?” she asks him. An illness of some sort had been passing through those stationed on the east side. With no time for proper food or rest, those who caught it had been dropping like flies. Brienne feared it wouldn’t be too long before it spread to other parts of the keep.

Gendry nods.

“Luwin’s having me quarantine them in one hallway outside the Great Hall. He fears them infecting the injured.”

He doesn’t tell her about the one he’d left a few days ago who had had a violent seizure when he’d come to check on them, his limbs shaking and mumbling fever dreams.

He nods to Brienne before turning to leave with the ill men.

Brienne surveys the meager forces manning the east wall again, as if by going through them again, they might suddenly grow, might suddenly be less haggard and starved.

As if they somehow might stand a chance.

As Brienne dismounts to go and check the archers on this side of the wall, the ground shakes, but not like before. Not like what the trees did.

And she hears the telltale sounds of stone beginning to crumble. The tiny chinks that have built up as the dead continued to slam and pile up against it, until parts of the east wall begin to crack and fall.

In the Godswood, Jon wakes with a start, to find Rowan shaking him.

“Your glove began to peel off,” she tells him, and he rights it. “You must be careful of frostbite.”

Yes, Jon thinks, frostbite.

Even trying to reclaim his tiny bits of sleep, he reaches out to the outside. He sees the second mammoth, the one who rammed the east wall and caused it to begin to crumble, and his eyes snap awake.

The trees don’t know too much of what to make of the Night King, other than he is heading south, fast, far too fast. Jon thanks all the gods that he seems to be limited by normal means of transportation.

The trees speak again to Jon now, unbidden. They say they will help again, but he does not understand their words this time. He feels the touch they would give to him, the assurance. That what they are about to do will take a lot out of him, and that he should brace himself, but not just physically.

Stumbling wildly out of the visions, Jon backs himself to the trunk of the weirwood, and lowers himself to the ground. Rowan presses closer to his side, and with his eyes trailing shut once again, Jon wishes Ygritte could be here with him too.

When the images pass through his mind, images of another him and another battle, he just lets it slip through him.

 Greywater Watch

Sansa and Shireen pour over the harp for days that turn into weeks that turn into months.

“I learned to play in King’s Landing,” Sansa muses, “From Leonette Fossoway. But I was so anxious and frightened all the time, I’m afraid I was quite a poor student.”

“I learned a bit in lessons as a girl,” Shireen adds, “But not too much. I wanted to learn the lute instead.”

And a frozen bog in hiding from the rising dead isn’t quite the best place to try and relearn, but they do what they can.

“Great-grandfather’s fiddle’s around here somewhere,” Meera tells Jojen one afternoon when the soft pings of the plucked strings are ringing out again.

“Waiting for a Reed who’s not an embarrassment to the art of music,” Jojen agrees.

At that moment, the scene is interrupted by Bran sticking his head in from outside and calling out to Sansa. He’s holding a rolled up scroll from the leg of a bird, so Meera and Jojen both follow Sansa to find out what’s going on.

Shireen looks around the table and realizes she’s alone again. Oh well, it never lasts long, there’s not too many places to hide in a keep this size.

It doesn’t even last five minutes, as Lord Reed re-enters from the back end and sits on the opposite side of the table from her.

Shireen nods, and greets him. She never learned too much about House Reed, aside from its allegiance to the north, but they’ve been good enough hosts.

There’s a long bit of silence, when he asks.

“You’re an only child aren’t you Shireen?”

Shireen nods. She remembers having always wanted siblings, but thinking on her parents as nearly an adult, she suspects it might be better that she didn’t.

“I heard about your father at the Wall. I’m sorry.”

Shireen nods again. She’s tried so hard not to think about it.

“With him gone, I guess I should go home to Dragonstone after this. I don’t know if my mother- I should probably just try and do my duty.”

Howland studies her. His gaze isn’t penetrating, but she still feels exposed.

“Is that what you want though?”

She smiles softly.

“I don’t want my house to die out, though I did think I would have a little more time...When I was little, I used to listen to Maester Cressen talk about his training, and I wished I could go to the citadel. I know they don’t let women in, but I always thought maybe I could sneak in at night, or something of the sort. I do at least have a huge stack of writings that I might be able to convince them to be worth reading now.”

Howland’s face has turned serious, and Shireen wonders what it was she’d said. The others have returned from whatever was being carried on the raven, but are on the other side of the room. He watches as Shireen tries to catch Jojen’s eye, hoping for a hint of if the letter was important.

“Are the two of you close?”

Shireen’s face turns pink.

“We’ve found some...very unusual common ground.”

Howland puts his face in his hands. His voice softens so the others don’t over hear, but is unexpectedly rough,

“When this is over, and you leave this place...convince him to go with you, in whatever capacity that is.”

Shireen blinks in shock.

“Don’t you want him home, safe?”

“Of course I do. But I don’t think he will be safe if he’s home. It’s not so bad here in the winter, but come spring...this environment is harsh. Illnesses spread through us like wildfire. In the spring the swamp gas rises. Jojen’s already fallen to Greywater fever once. I don’t worry about Meera, she’s strong-”

Shireen chuckles. A few days prior, Meera had climbed part way onto the roof of the keep to free Una when she had become entangled in a snare, with very little regard to her rapidly swelling abdomen.

“But Jojen never has been. He was always a fragile boy. And even though his mother and I always told him how important his visions were...we all knew that this was not a good place for him. I don’t want him to leave home and die like last time, but I want him to die earlier than he needs to even less.”

Shireen watches the others, solemn.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

The moons go on, and Sansa and her can’t make heads or tails of the harp. Once, when Sansa plays, Shireen notes that one of the runes on the side seems to light up, but despite her scribbling it down as fast as she can, they have yet to get that reaction from any of the other runes.

One morning, one the Reed’s lookouts come to report that men have been spotted marching along the causeway from the south.

“What? What banners are they carrying?” Sansa demands.

The lookout couldn’t see them in the snow, so Bran sends Una south.

When she reaches the men, Bran reports.

“House Tyrell, but they aren’t displaying their banners, I could only tell by their armor. And they’re being led by Jamie Lannister.”

The distaste in his voice is prominent.

“Should we tell the men to try and stop them from getting through?” Meera asks.

There’s a long pause.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Bran says slowly. “They’re not traveling under the banner of the crown. We should at least see what happens if they make it through and encounter the Others.”

There are nods all around. Bran spends the next weeks in and out of Una trying to discover why a company of soldiers, but not from King’s Landing, would be coming north.

One night when he had left her and nearly immediately fallen asleep, he dreams of the Night King coming for him in the Godswood. It wakes him in a cold sweat.

He’s just managed to calm his heart, when he realizes Meera’s sitting up on her side of the bed, hunched over.

“Hey-” he reaches out to touch her on the shoulder. “Is it the babe, should we call for the midwife?”

She shakes her head, and Bran sighs in relief. She should have at least a moon’s turn left.

“It was back before, when I left Winterfell,” her voice shakes. “It was snowing so hard, and I could barely sleep. I hadn’t slept alone, or been alone at all really, in so long…”

He rubs his hand along her shoulder and reaches for his cane beside the bed.

“Come on, lets get some tea.”

But when they reach the table, they aren’t alone.

Shireen’s muttering about fire, and Sansa says something about the crypts. But it’s not just them, but others within the keep, awake and speaking quietly.

Jojen is the last to join them, looking confused at everyone else.

When he sits, his only words are.

“That was a green dream. But I’ve never had one like that before.”

“Doesn’t make sense,” Sansa responds, “The things we saw really happened.”

There’s a long silence, interrupted only by the rustling of the others waking.

“But only you lot remember that these things happened,” Shireen says slowly, “The rest of us see this as new.”

They sit in silence again as this washes over them.

 White Harbour

At White Harbour, Theon sits up with a jolt. They’re still on the ship, surveying before they disembark.

In the dark, he gropes his way out of the cabin before finding Yara on watch. Her eyes meet his, and her terror he feels must be mirrored on his own.

Yara stares at him steadily, before looking back out to the land in front of them.

“We do not sow. Remember our house words. We are here, we are Ironborn. We will not go down with the dead.”

Her words are enough, at least safely at sea.

Gliding on the air above them all, Danaerys jumps when her vision shifts, finding herself aboard Rhaegal again instead of Drogon like she had in the vision, and wonders at what could have made that seemingly small thing different. Much moreso, she is confused by the memory of her own feelings, her nearly arrogant certainty. She steels herself in the darkness, running a hand along Rhaegal’s scales. It would be wrong to admit she has no such certainty now.

 The Kingsroad

Jamie’s arm is too light. This is the first thing that registers when he wakes. His arm is too light and it seems to flop around of its own accord.

But it’s not just his arm weighing him down, but the memory of Cersei’s betrayal.

She had begged him to find a way to stop Father sending her back to Casterly Rock, and he’d been plagued by guilt over it. Now he questions why. His whole life he’d tried to spend in her service, and what did he get in return for it? Now with this memory, though hazy and rapidly fading, his guilt begins to lighten.

When the first light comes, he orders the men on. His guilt does begin to rise, when he recalls what he suspects they will find at the end of the Kingsroad.

 King’s Landing

Margaery had found the necklace among her things ages ago, and she had also noticed the stone that came loose. She had kept it in her personal effects, close, planning to bide her time.

In the moons since she had sent Jamie away, Joffrey had become increasingly paranoid. Rambling on during council meetings about the rumors and correspondences with the Targaryen girl, even lashing out after being reprimanded by his Hand, his own grandfather.

She spends several days observing routines, finding the best time. Night time would be too obvious, too many servants who might take the blame.

The visions that pass over them all don’t even seem to phase Joffrey at all, to Margaery’s disgust. Breakfast provides the perfect distraction. Especially since breakfast today is fried fish, complete with their tiny bones.

Especially since it seems everyone else in the keep awoke in the same fugue state Margaery found herself in. Her maid had looked at her as though she had seen a ghost. She fingers the jewel tucked into her pocket. Her dream did nothing but spur her on.

In the Great Hall, everyone has gathered among the breakfast spread, no one much meeting others eyes and bumbling about, confused. Only Joffrey is already eating, licking the greasy batter of the fried fish from his fingers.

The jewel dropped its way easily into the goblet of red wine. She hasn’t even have the opportunity to sit down before Joffrey’s hand snatches it away.

“Far too early for a queen. Wouldn’t want you ending up like my dearest mother.”

Margaery lets him take the goblet and place it to his lips. And she waits.

 Winterfell

Ned’s shoulder burns anew when he wakes. At least he knows he’s alive.

Robb jerks awake on the cot in the Great Hall. Only an arm, at least there’s that.

Gendry doesn’t even quit moving as he drags a man with a broken leg from the rubble of the east wall.

Brienne grips her sword tighter, the word ‘knight’ echoing in her mind.

Up on the ramparts, Arya stares straight ahead. She squeezes the dagger at her waist, and dares the Night King to come this time.

Beside her, Ygritte rolls on her side and mutters, “Gods, I hope someone killed that fuckin’ kid.”

In the Broken Tower, Benjen stares across the horizon, looking for the figure he imagines must still be coming for him.

In the Godswood, Jon touches his stomach and chest where the stab wounds had been, takes a deep breath, and tells the trees thank you.

“Do you think this will help?” he asks them, the tongue feeling more natural on voice now somehow.

“Unknown. But we’ve done what we can.”

Jon hopes that it’s enough.

[smokedstorybara]

Perchance to Dream(Snufmin Soulmate Dream au) part 2

AN: I’m sorry

tags cause some of y’all asked to be tagged, which thank you I’m very flattered: @screamingyearly @governmentassignedsnufkinkin

“Today I’m here, tomorrow who knows where I’ll be.”

The boy’s words rang through Moomin’s head. He’d heard something very similar once before. He quickly changed the subject to distract himself from the memories. He didn’t like to think about them all that much.

“Well we’re on our way to the observatory to find out about the catastrophe that’s about to occur.”

“Oh right, I heard a rumor about a comet that’s on it’s way. Is that what you meant?”

“A comet??”

It worked.

As the traveler made himself some coffee and told them about the comet, Moomin became completely absorbed in the conversation - imagining what the comet would look like and admiring the boy’s knowledge.

When Snufkin offered to share his tent for the night and to guide them to the observatory in the morning Moomin was ecstatic, though he tried his best not to show it.

~~

The trip up to the observatory had been very eventful and had given Moomin a great deal to think about.

Snufkin was a very patient guide. Even with Sniff’s constant complaining and his run-in with the giant lizard, Little My’s… Little My-ness, and all of Moomin’s questions. And he seemed to know so much about everything! People, places, the stars. Moomin was in awe of him.

Moomin very much wanted to be his friend. Though he wasn’t sure what he had to offer that could get someone like Snufkin to want to be friends with plain old him.

Then there was everything with the ankle bracelet they’d found and what Snufkin had told them about it’s owner. And her brother.

After Snufkin had mentioned that Snork was likely heading towards the same observatory they were, and his sister - who the bracelet belonged to - might be with him, Moomin had climbed down the cliff to fetch it, figuring the girl would probably want it back, and carrying it with him had set his mind a-wandering.

The shine of the bracelet reminded him of the pearl he’d found at the beach not that much more than a day before. And the conversation he’d had with his mamma when he gave it to her.

She tried to tell him that he might meet someone who he’d want to give it to more than her when Little My interrupted with a reminder that Moomin didn’t have a soulmate like other Moomintrolls. His mamma had responded that that didn’t mean he couldn’t meet some nice girl and fall in love, Moomins aren’t meant to be solitary creatures after all - that’s why they have soulmates.

He knew his parents were worried about him. About the toll giving up his soulmate might have taken. How much it hurt him.

He knew they were probably right. He should just find a nice girl and try to move on.

Snufkin had said that Snorkmaiden was very pretty, maybe she would be nice too.

~~

When they reached the observatory, Moomin approached one of the astronomers.

At first the man mistook him for someone else, then said something about a girl who’d been talking about ankle bracelets. Moomin briefly forgot about the comet in his excitement over possibly being able to return the bracelet to Snorkmaiden. But of course his friends were quick to remind him when he returned to the group without the information they’d come for.

Sniff declared that he would try and then approached one of the other astronomers, this one on a tall platform with a very big telescope. From the bottom of the stairs up to the platform, the rest of the group watched Sniff talk to him for about a minute.

When it seemed the astronomer was going to let Sniff look through the telescope, Moomin and Little My rushed up the stairs, hoping to get to look too. Snufkin followed just behind.

Moomin tried to pay close attention as the astronomer corrected Sniff on how to look through the telescope - he didn’t want to get it wrong when he got a turn - and was startled while repeating it in his head by Sniff exclaiming in his anxious way.

“It looks like it’s on fire!”

When the astronomer responded with “It’s burning at a temperature hotter than you could ever imagine!” Moomin knew he had to see it as soon as possible. He may have been a little rude in his eagerness. But the astronomer seemed excited when he said that they wanted to learn everything they could about the comet, so he figured it was fine.

As Moomin looked at the comet, Sniff put voice to the question they’d all been thinking.

“What’s gonna happen if it hits the earth? What’ll happen to us?”

Moomin was shocked when the astronomer admitted he had no idea and claimed it wasn’t in his “field of expertise”. As Little My climbed up his back to reach the telescope, Moomin confessed to himself that he’d grown maybe a little too accustomed to Snufkin’s well rounded intelligence.

“Could you at least tell us when the comet might collide with us?” He asked, a little impatiently.

“Well that I can help you with!” Moomin felt a little bubble of hope rise in his chest; finally they were getting questions answered. “It’s almost certain that the comet will hit the earth, that we can predict with great accuracy.”

Moomin was grateful when Snufkin spoke before he could, as he wasn’t quite sure he could have stopped himself from snapping at the man otherwise.

“Alright,” Snufkin had responded as if that had answered their question at all, “so when is this gonna happen?”

“According to my calculations, the collision will occur on August the seventh at eight forty-two pm, plus or minus four seconds.”

They all stared at him for a moment, processing, before he continued cheerfully.

“That’s right, it’s only two days away!”

“TWO DAYS AWAY?!?”

~~

Moomin woke to the faint sound of a voice calling for help.

He shot up and quickly made his way out of the tent, the others following close behind.

The call came again and they all began running in the direction the voice came from. Snufkin and Moomin ran next to each other with Little My just behind and Sniff trailing reluctantly after. Sniff was shouting something but Moomin ignored him, more focused on helping whoever the voice belonged to - up until a sudden tug on the rope tied around all their waists(for safety) pulled him backwards and he fell to the ground.

Sniff had run right into a tree. He’d been unable to avoid it because Moomin, Snufkin, and Little My had split around it.

Moomin shoved his guilt to the side as soon as the voice called out again. Snufkin cut the rope around his own waist then quickly moved to cut Moomin loose as well.

Moomin barely lingered long enough to hear Snufkin tell Little My and Sniff to stay before he was off again.

Soon, Moomin stumbled into a clearing and was stunned by the sight of a large vined plant attacking a couple of Moomintroll-like people. He rushed to pull the nearer of the two to safety.

“Let me go, oh please! Help!”

Moomin turned to the person still wrapped in the vines at the sound of their cries. The one next to him began to shout.

“Oh no! That plant’s gonna eat my little sister!”

Moomin responded with feigned confidence as he ran toward the plant.

“Hold on to me!” He instructed as he started tugging the person out from the tangle of vines. His continued words of reassurance were interrupted by the loud voice of the first person he’d pulled away from the plant.

“Listen you, my sister is no insect!”

Moomin almost paused in his confusion. What did insects have to do with anything?

“And besides,” the yelling continued, “Snorks are extremely poisonous! Let her go right this second!”

So they were Snorks. Perhaps they were even Snufkin’s Snork friends! Of course, Moomin didn’t want to make any hasty assumptions.

And then Snufkin’s voice called out from much too close for Moomin’s comfort.

“That’s enough you dusty old potted plant! Leave her alone you smelly old mushroom munching vegetable head, do you hear me?!”

There was a pause before the Snork’s voice returned from the same direction as Snufkin’s. “You pathetic plant!” He shouted. “You’re a failure of a geranium!”

Snufkin and the Snork continued to take turns yelling insults at the plant and taunting it until suddenly it was moving away from Moomin and the Snorkmaiden and towards Snufkin and the Snork. Moomin took advantage of it’s distraction to quickly pull the Snorkmaiden entirely out of it’s vines.

Except for her tail.

The vine was too tightly looped around her tail for Moomin to tug her loose and trying only caused her pain. He didn’t know what to do, but he wasn’t about to just abandon her.

“Leave it to me, I’ve got it!”

Little My came leaping out of nowhere, onto the vine, and immediately bit through it. The Snorkmaiden was free.

But now the plant was no longer distracted by Snufkin and the Snork, and it was angry.

Little My jumped it again and got caught in one of the buds at the ends of the vines. It wrapped almost entirely around her, only her head and feet poking out of the top and the bottom.

The panic beginning to seize onto Moomin’s mind was quickly cleared by a welcome voice calling his name and “catch!”. He barely fumbled the pocket knife Snufkin tossed him and immediately turned back to the plant. He felt a new - genuine - confidence fill him, now he had a (somewhat)proper weapon.

He made quick work of the vine trapping Little My. only for her to jump up and get caught again. And again.

Soon they fell into an easy rhythm. Little My gets a bud to close around her. Moomin cuts it off. Rinse, repeat.

Again and again until the plant began to retreat.

“What a performance Moomin!” Snufkin’s praise sent a pleasant, but intense, warmth through Moomin’s chest. He barely refocused on his surroundings on time to hear the Snorkmaiden call him strong.

Struggling to maintain his composure, Moomin directed his attention to berating the plant and warning it away from his friends.

After that, Snufkin introduced the Snorks to Moomin and his friends - Moomin had been right about the two being the Snorks Snufkin had mentioned before - and Moomin told Snorkmaiden about them finding her ankle bracelet.

The Snorks returned to their camp with them so Moomin could give Snorkmaiden back her bracelet, and he found himself inviting them to go back to Moominvalley with them.

It took some convincing with Snork, but eventually they both agreed.

~~

After some time, the group reached the beach. And beyond it…

Where the sea should have been was a great abyss. Large cracks stretched to the depths of the earth, and from the beach a cliff curved down and down deep.

“Moomin!” Snorkmaiden gasped. “The whole sea has dried up!”

As they all stood, processing this development, Snufkin sat down on the ground and placed his head in his hands.

“Oh, dear,” he cried, “oh, dear, the beautiful sea quite gone. No more sailing, no more swimming, no more fishing. No great storms, no transparent ice and gleaming black water reflecting the stars. Finished, lost gone!” He curled further into himself and began to cry into his knees.

“But Snuff,” Moomin responded with confusion and insensitive concern, “you have always been so happy-go-lucky. It’s dreadful to see you despairing like this.”

“I know.” Snufkin replied, face still against his knees causing his voice to be somewhat muffled. “But I’ve always loved the sea more than anything else.” He looked up at Moomin just long enough for one last statement before returning his head to it’s new residence. “This is so sad.” His voice seemed to break on the last word. And that, more than anything, caused Moomin’s heart to hurt.

He had an idea. He didn’t like it, not at all. But he knew it might help his friend and at that moment that was more important.

So he closed his eyes, took a steadying breath, and dug his mind as deep as he dared into the one topic he hated most to think about. And then, carefully, he spoke.

“Sometimes we lose the things we love. And it hurts very much. And it’s ok to hurt, to feel like you’ll never be happy again. But eventually you need to gather all your strength, stand up, and carry on.” He gingerly knelt down next to Snufkin. “We’ll wait here with you until you can.”

Distantly, he registered the sounds of the others following his example, but he kept his focus on Snufkin. They all sat in silence for a minute or ten - none of them much cared to pay attention to the time in that moment. And, eventually, Snufkin began to come back to himself. Unfurling from the tight ball he’d become and wiping the tears from his face.

A little time and a little conversation after that, he suggested they cross the dried-up sea on stilts.

It wasn’t until much later that Moomin realized he felt somewhat lighter than he had in a very long time, despite the circumstances.

~~

Moomin was overjoyed when all his new friends decided to stay in the valley - for the time being - even after the comet had passed.

He was excited to spend more time with Snufkin, getting to know the wanderer and having adventures with him. And having Snorkmaiden living so close would make starting a relationship with her much easier.

Speaking of, he needed to actually talk to her about a relationship.

She definitely seemed interested - and his mamma had assured him he wasn’t reading her interest wrong - and she was a very nice girl. It was just…

Difficult.

Difficult to find the right words. Difficult to think of anyone but his soulmate in such a way.

Then he thought back to what he had told Snufkin that day by the sea, and how much less it hurt when he had the distraction of the comet, and he put the two ideas together in his head. He’d let himself be distracted by Snorkmaiden until he was ready to ‘carry on’ and really give her his heart. He did feel a little guilty for thinking of her as a distraction, but he figured eventually he would move on from his lost soulmate and it would all be fine.

That evening he took her to watch the sunset on the beach and sat in silence as he searched for the words he needed.

But, of course, his mouth decided it had a mind of its own and started the conversation before he was ready, in what he was sure was quite the wrong way.

“Did you know Moomintrolls are supposed to have soulmates?” He fought against the instinct to wince as soon as the words were out, and waited nervously for her response. It didn’t take long.

“Supposed to?”

He figured that was as good a lead-in as he could get. He took a deep breath and braced himself to speak.

“I don’t.” Technically, it was a lie. But his parents were the only to know the truth, and he still wasn’t ready to tell anyone else. Besides, functionally, it was true.

“Oh.” Snorkmaiden’s voice was laced with sympathy. And when Moomin dared to glance over, her eyes seemed sad. She continued after he looked back to the sky. The stars were starting to come out. “How will you know who to be with then?” She asked.

“Well,” Moomin shrugged and looked back at her, this time he let the look fill with meaning. “I suppose I get to choose.”

“Oh.” Snorkmaiden blinked and her eyes brightened. “Oh.” This time her voice carried a breathless happiness. Her paws came up to press against her chest over her heart.

Moomin made himself smile and nod and hoped it was convincing.