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sukifans · 3 years

Note

aahhh I’m so excited I love your writing!!! your sokka “help me” fic is one of my favs ever I seriously think about it at least twice a week. in a similar vein, would you be able to combine prompts 10 & 12 for sokka x fem!reader? thank you!!! :)

SOKKA + “can i try that new chapstick? i wanna have a taste” + “i hadn’t noticed but my sweet, funny, goofy best friend is kind of hot, especially since they’ve been on this fitness kick”

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

“nastiest skank bitches” Group Message

loml: ladies, i need a girls night

loml: desperately

babygorl: god i’m down, this semester blows

fugly slut <3: i’m in!! always here for a girls night 🥰

loml: y/n??

you: gals. pals. as much as i would love to...

fugly slut <3: ughhhhhhhhh

babygorl: you better not be blowing us off for sokka again istg

you: 😅

loml: TRAITOR BITCH

fugly slut <3: HOES BEFORE BROS

babygorl: WHORE

you: bruh.mp3

you: he’s coming by after the gym to help me with my physics homework!!! I NEED THE HELP PLS I PROMISE ILL BE THERE NEXT TIME

babygorl: lying is a sin y/n

babygorl: sinner

loml: if sokka’s gonna b there maybe she’ll be sinning in........ other ways...... ahaha

loml: fuckboy_emoji.jpg

fugly slut <3: when you gonna tap that fr

you: NEVER LITERALLY NO EW

you: HE’S MY BEST FRIEND

you: UNLIKE YOU RATS

fugly slut <3: he do b kinda yummy tho liiiike 👀

you: STOP

loml: yeah he’s hot sorry queen

you: HE’S NOT HOT

babygorl: i almost hate to admit it but...

babygorl: his biceps 🥴

fugly slut <3 emphasized “his biceps 🥴”

loml loved “his biceps 🥴”

you: hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!

fugly slut <3 disliked “hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!”

babygorl disliked “hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!”

loml disliked “hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!”

babygorl: uh huh yeah sure

loml: yall hear sumn?

NEW MESSAGE from sokka :^)

“hey i’m omw up!”

you: whatever you guys suck

you: i gtg

fugly slut <3: AND YOU SWALLOW

babygorl: bye girly!! get that bestie dick!!

loml: save a car, ride an engineering major >:)

you: desgostang.jpg

You dropped your phone onto the bed next to you with a groan. Your friends really and truly could be such freaks about your relationship with Sokka—or lack thereof. They’d been especially adament ever since he started some stupid bet with Zuko about who could get the most “gains” by graduation, incited by Aang making the mistake of commenting on Zuko’s more pronounced muscle mass.

Idiots.

That’s what Sokka was. Your idiotic best friend, who was funny, and sweet, and intelligent. You loved him, of course, but not like that. And he was not hot.

Definitely not.

The pounding on your dorm door interrupted your musings before Sokka let himself in, dropping his gym bag on the floor and kicking off his slides. His hair was loose and still damp from his post-workout shower and he wore slim joggers with a loose muscle tee.

“Hey!” He smiled brightly when he spotted you sitting in your bed. “What’s up?”

“The usual.” You moved your legs out of the way so he could flop down onto your mattress. “How was the gym?”

Sokka groaned. “Cardio. I’m already sore.” He stretched his arms up to fold behind his head, pulling his muscles taut.

Hm. He does kind of have nice biceps...

You shook yourself internally. Thoughts like these had been creeping out of your subconscious for weeks now, no thanks to your rabid friends.

“My leg’s been killing me, though,” he continued, rubbing his opposite foot across the skin that covered that metal pins and plates holding his bones together after a nasty break in high school. The leg often still gave him problems, ranging from the dull ache he could ignore on the day-to-day, to throbbing pain that left him limping.

You frowned, looking away from his arms to meet his eyes. “You should probably rest up before you hurt yourself,” you said.

“I’ll be fine.” He shrugged and propped himself up on his elbows. “Gotta catch up to Zuko, y’know.”

“Why? You’re already taller than him.”

“So? I wanna be more yolked, too.”

You rolled your eyes. “Buncha dumbasses.”

Sokka quirked an eyebrow. “You want this dumbass to help with your physics homework or not?”

“Haha,” you chuckled nervously, “just kidding, buddy! I meant Zuko and Aang. You—definitely not a dumbass. Nope.”

“That’s what I thought.” He shot you a smug look as he pushed up to sit cross-legged across from you on the bed. He held his hand out with a dramatic, world-weary sigh. “Alright, give it here.”

You opened your laptop to pull up the website that hosted your homework practice problems. “You know I love you, right?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, grabbing a notebook and pen from your desk to work out the math as you handed over the computer. He paused before standing to retrieve his bag, plopping it on your desk chair so he could root through it and pull out his glasses case. You felt your cheeks warm a little when he set the frames on the bridge of his nose.

Fine—he was kinda cute. You could concede that without having to dig too deep into your somewhat jumbled feelings for your best friend.

But you would certainly not “tap that.”

Well...

No. You would not.

You watched his eyes flick over the screen as he tapped the pen against his chin, catching the cap between his teeth while he thought about the formulas he’d learned in a past semester. He nodded to himself and started scribbling out a diagram and the math to go with it. You found yourself a little mesmerized by the way he simply just knew what to do, confidently scratching away at the paper as easily as one might write the alphabet. Your eyes trailed from his long fingers and calloused hand sweeping over the page, up his toned arm (lingering on his bicep a little longer), and to his face. He chewed at the inside of his cheek in concentration, sometimes parting his lips to murmur the logic to himself.

For someone who often said a lot of stupid shit, he sure had a pretty mouth.

You considered what he might do if you snatched a fistful of his shirt and yanked him into a kiss. Would he shove you away and leave? Awkwardly but kindly reject you? Or, would he kiss you back—throw the work out of the way and grab your face to coax you in deeper? Maybe push you back onto the bed and—

“Okay, so basically—”

Jesus Christ, get a fucking grip.

“—from the problem and draw it out like this to apply the formula, yeah?”

Sokka looked to you expectantly and you blinked at him as your face burned. “Sorry, I zoned out. What did you say?”

“C’mon, I know you hate physics but you gotta at least pay attention to me if you wanna pass,” he teased, shifting close enough that the sides of your bodies pressed together. Was it getting warmer in your room, or was it just your best friend?

He launched into the explanation again and you nodded along while internally willing the blood to leave your cheeks. Even as your thoughts ricocheted around inside your skull he managed to break it down in a way that somewhat made sense. He sat back and watched as you slowly worked through the next problem. You glanced up when you heard a soft pop to see him applying chapstick.

“Is that a new flavor?” you asked.

“Yeah, chocolate orange or something.” He held the tube out to you. “Wanna try?”

Fuck it.

Before your rationality could catch up you pressed a hand to his cheek to turn his head and pulled him in for a kiss. Your lips only slotted together for a brief moment before you pulled back to stare wide-eyed at each other. You could feel the fire creeping from your cheeks down your neck, mirrored in the reddening of his tanned skin.

He blinked. You blinked.

The chapstick slipped from between his fingers. Rationality arrived late.

You bolted.

“Uh, see ya later!” you shouted as you threw the door open and rushed out of the room.

“Wait, (Y/N)—“

You didn’t stick around to hear the end of his desperate call. Even thought it was your dorm and you were barefoot you still raced down the hall, wincing at the sound of a door slamming behind you.

“(Y/N)!”

Damn that lanky bastard. You were booking it and he was already hot on your heels. You barreled into the door leading to the stairwell and almost made it down the first step when he grabbed you around the waist and yanked you back. Despite your struggles, the arm hooked across your middle was unyielding until he pushed you into the corner and crowded you against the wall, hands caging you in from either side. Your heart was racing and you weren’t sure if it was because of your escape attempt or that he was close enough you could smell his body wash and deodorant. It was almost enough to make your head spin.

“Sokka, I-I don’t know why—I’m sorry, please, I shouldn’t’ve—“

“(Y/N),” he said firmly and your mouth snapped shut. “Why did you run away?”

“Uh, I—well, um...” You shrunk down against the wall and swallowed hard. “I-I don’t know.”

“You didn’t even give me a chance to respond.”

“Look—“ You paused and stared at him once you processed what he said. “What?”

He laughed, dropping one of his hands to brush against your cheek before threading into your hair to cup the base of your skull. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

With that he surged forwards and kissed you enthusiastically, making you gasp into his mouth. You balled your hands into the front of his shirt to keep yourself steady as you melted into him. His free hand pressed into your lower back to bring you in closer. His tongue slipped out to tease at your bottom lip and he chuckled when you had to quickly grab his shoulders as your knees almost buckled.

“Get that,” he murmured against your lips, pressing his forehead to yours as the two of you gasped for air.

“Oh,” you breathed, “that.” You hummed happily when he kissed you again, his stubble scratching against your chin and under your palms when you cupped his face.

You both looked up when a stairwell door somewhere above you slammed open, followed by a group of jostling male voices. Sokka grinned when you glanced at him with wide eyes and shiny, swollen lips. You tried to hide behind him as the clamor bounded closer and closer. The group of guys rounded the next flight and gave shouts of recognition upon seeing you two standing against the wall.

“Sokka!”

“Hey, man!”

“Hey, guys,” Sokka said, holding his hand up in greeting.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, is that (Y/N)?”

“Nice, dude!”

“Ah, yeah...” He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and you raised an eyebrow at his turned head. They all cheered and congratulated him, slapping his back as they passed and disappeared down the next set of stairs. When Sokka met your eyes again you cocked your head.

“Who were they?” you asked.

“Honestly, I’m not sure.”

“Sokka.”

“My reputation precedes me, what can I say?”

“Mine doesn’t.”

“Well—“ he suddenly became very interested in the underside of the stairs above you “—my reputation may or may not involve talking about you. A lot, apparently.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t do it on purpose!” he interjected quickly, taking your hands in his. “It’s just—I dunno, I guess I think about you a lot, so...”

“Oh.”

“Fuck, okay, that sounded weird.” You laughed a little at his embarrassed floundering. “I just mean, like, things that remind me of you or, y’know, stories that involve you...” he trailed off, flushing at your amused smile. “Stop it!”

“Stop what?”

“Making fun of me!”

“I didn’t say anything,” you giggled, hooking your arms around his neck.

“You’re still laughing at me,” he whined, lips turning into a frown. His hands slipped back down to your waist.

“You’re cute.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Without preamble, he ducked down and hoisted you over his shoulder as you shrieked in protest. “Sokka! Put me down!”

“No can do, baby; we have unfinished business to attend to.” He said as he marched you back in the direction of your room.

“You’re gonna finish my physics homework?”

“Nope.”

Oh.

A/N: 2k words bc, again, i have no self control. thank you for the request!

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi @blazedbakugou @protect-remus @akiris @sunflowerazula @wooscottoncandyhair @chewymoustachio @ohno-caroline @sunflowerr-mami @1vitamin @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @u-4iia @nymeria-targaryen @tommy-braccoli @dizzy-miss-lizzieeeeee @a-sloppy-bitch @nomin-rights @siriuslyslyslytherin @starryncn

SOKKA TAGS: @fiantomartell @avatarayeaye @zvkta @sher-lockedmarvel @grandmascottlang @captainshazamerica @yuesallura

#sokka x reader #sokka x you #sokka x y/n #x sokka #sokka fluff #sokka imagine #sokka fic #atla sokka #atla x reader #sokka #mine #requests #atla fic #avatar the last airbender

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koala-otter · 3 years

Text

this is a snippet from my zukka fashion au :)

When he hears the soft patter on the hardwood, Sokka looks up. Izumi stands in the doorway between the living room and the hallway in her footie pajamas, a stuffed rabaroo, worn from four years of cuddling and washing, dangling from her hand. Sokka’s face breaks into a smile.

“What are you doing up?”

Izumi tilts her head at him. “I want another story.”

“Would your dad tell you another story?”

Izumi laughs delightedly, baring all of her little baby teeth, and Sokka grins back at her. Under Zuko’s careful routine, she would have been asleep at least two hours ago.

“All right,” he says. He pats the sofa cushion next to him with his free hand. “Let me finish this first.”

Izumi bounds over to the sofa, pulling herself up by her round, little hands, still clutching her rabaroo, and lands next to Sokka. She curls into his side, like it’s the easiest, most natural thing in the world, and his heart swells.

“What are you doing, Sokka?” she asks.

A few strands of her long, black hair—so much like Zuko’s, Sokka thinks—fall in front of her eyes, and Sokka gently places his needle halfway into the silk to help her tuck it behind her ear. She smiles up at him and cuddles in even closer, the rabaroo’s head landing right beneath her chin.

“I’m embroidering my sister’s wedding dress,” Sokka says, pulling the needle through and then back up through the other side. “You remember Katara, don’t you?”

Izumi nods, now staring at his fingers guiding the needle through another stitch. “What’s embo—embra—embroidering mean?”

“Here,” Sokka says, stilling his hands and bringing the yard of silk closer to Izumi, “you see these little flowers? They’re all made up of little stitches like this one.” He demonstrates quickly. “It’s like drawing, but with sewing.”

Izumi’s eyes widen, and she looks up at Sokka. “Like the dragon?”

“What dragon?” Sokka asks.

“On Dad’s haori,” Izumi replies matter-of-factly, and Sokka doesn’t understand how someone so little can make him feel so overwhelmed.

“You saw that?”

“Yeah,” Izumi says with a gesture resembling an eyeroll, “Dad showed it to me so many times.”

Sokka frees his arm to curl it around her. “Yeah,” he says after swallowing the lump in his throat, “the dragon on your dad’s haori was embroidered. It took me way too many hours to get it done, by the way.”

“How many?” Izumi asks.

“Guess,” Sokka says, grinning down at her.

“Ten jillion hours,” Izumi blurts out, and Sokka laughs loudly in response.

“Hmm,” he says once he’s sobered. His expression turns contemplative. “I don’t think it was ten jillion. Maybe…” He pauses and looks down at her again, nodding once. “Just about a jillion.”

Izumi’s mouth drops open into a perfect little o. “Woah,” she breathes.

The actual number is one-hundred-and-fifteen, but Izumi doesn’t need to know that.

She lifts one of her hands to touch the silk. “Can I do it?” she asks.

“Embroider?” Sokka asks, and Izumi nods. He looks down at her little hands. “You’re four, right? I don’t know—do you have fine motor skills yet?”

“I can try,” Izumi insists, and she rises to her knees to get closer to Sokka’s eyes, her rabaroo cast aside as she grips his forearm. “Please, Sokka?”

He watches her eyes go round and her lip jut out in the beginnings of a pout, and any protestations he might have had—though they were already limited—melt away.

“All right,” he says. He leans over and pulls a silk scrap from his backpack along with a spool of thread and a need. He puts aside Katara’s sleeve and pulls Izumi into his lap. “Do you know how to thread a needle?”

Izumi shakes her head, and Sokka can smell her baby shampoo. She begins grabbing for the needle, but Sokka pulls it away.

“Just a second,” he says.

#zukka #atla #izumi

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awkwardpenguinproductions · 3 years

Text

Perspective

Part 11 of the Dragon of the Yuyan

Read on AO3 | Series Masterpost

Bato usually takes his evening walk a lot earlier than this, so that he can catch the sunset over the water and marvel (two years away from home and he’s still not used to the sun actually rising and setting more than twice a year). Tonight, however, a series of events have conspired to make him late, and the sun has just set when he finally leaves the Abbey and heads down to the beach toward his ship.

A month after the skirmish, and his burns are still tender and stiff, but the sisters are well-versed in healing and Bato knows it’s nearly time to move on. Hakoda and the rest of the Fleet should be somewhere in the Eastern Earth Kingdom by now, and Bato is just waiting for his Chief to send word so that Bato can rejoin his brothers.

As he approaches his ship, a flickering orange light pierces the darkness, and his heart stops for a moment. Firebenders? But the only sounds are the waves of the sea against the sand and the crackling fire, so Bato keeps his hand on his dagger and approaches cautiously.

As he gets closer, he can see the silhouette of someone sitting before a campfire, someone with what looks to be a shaggy wolf-tail. A stick snaps under Bato’s foot, and the person jolts, standing and whirling around with a weapon in hand.

“Who’s there?” Calls out an achingly familiar voice, and Bato can’t believe it.

“Sokka?” He asks, stepping into the circle of firelight. And so it is, his Chief’s son, relaxing from his fighting stance.

“Bato?” His voice has deepened, and cracks on the end where it turns up in question.

“Who the what now?” Another voice asks, male and young, and Bato can see a small body resting on one of the legs belonging to a huge furry creature the size of his ship. Across the campfire from Sokka, Katara sits up in her sleeping bag and calls out, “Bato!”

Bato braces himself as both Sokka and Katara run over to hug him, with the smaller boy and another one, nearly fully grown and shrugging a quiver over his shoulder. “Sokka, Katara! It is so good to see you! You’ve grown so much!”

“Hi, I’m Aang, and this is Zuko,” the small boy says, bowing and indicating his taller companion, who also bows. Bato is about to greet them, but Sokka speaks before he can.

“Where’s Dad?”

“Is he here?” Katara asks eagerly.

Bato hates to disappoint them, but there’s no point in prevaricating, so he tells them where Hakoda and the fleet are and invites them to the Abbey.

His niece and nephew are delighted with his room, while Avatar Aang grimaces in poorly disguised disgust and the silent Zuko glances around with an appreciative air. Bato wants to ask the boy about the massive burn scar on his face, maybe compare battle stories, but Sokka and Katara command his attention, and his relief and delight at seeing them and finding them well overwhelm his instinct to be a good host.

They eat their fill of stewed sea prunes and talk. Aang tries to participate in the conversation, while Zuko doesn’t say a word, but watches everyone keenly, and Bato could swear that his eyes flicker gold in the firelight. That’s impossible, though— Sokka and Katara more than anybody know better than to trust ash-makers . Bato puts the thought out of his mind, and conversation turns to Hakoda and the Southern Water Tribe fleet.

When he tells them about the message he’s expecting from Hakoda, the kids’ faces light up.

“Really?” Katara squeals.

“When?” Sokka demands. Between them, Zuko looks up from the arrows he’s fletching, a small smile on his face.

“Any day now,” Bato replies, almost as excited as them. “Your father said he’d send a message when they found the rendezvous point. If you wait until the message arrives, you can come with me, and see your father again.”

Sokka beams. “It’s been over two years since we’ve seen Dad! That would be so incredible! Katara!”

“I do really miss him,” Katara sighs wistfully. “It would be great to see Dad.”

“It’s been far too long, hasn’t it?” Bato commiserates. He misses his brother warriors like he would miss his limbs. “I’m not sure when word will arrive, but when it does, you’re more than welcome to come along to see your father.”

Both the kids deflate suddenly. “It would be great, but we can’t,” Sokka says gravely. “We have to get Aang to the North Pole.”

“Even if we do have time to wait for the message, who knows how far we’d have to travel?” Katara adds with typical pragmatism. “We don’t have time for a long detour.”

Bato is disappointed, but also immensely proud, and knows that Hakoda will be as well, and says so. Sokka and Katara beam, and Zuko looks a bit relieved.

With the break in conversation, Bato turns his attention to the archer, and now that he has consistent light from the whale oil lamps hanging around the room, realizes that the boy really is just a boy, perhaps a year or so older than Sokka. The burn scar on his left eye dominates his pale face, despite being half hidden under shaggy black hair.

"You've been very quiet, Zuko, I'm sorry we've been so rude," Bato says, shooting a playfully scolding look at Katara and Sokka, who sheepishly smile and smirk respectively. "I'm Bato, first subordinate to Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe Coalition."

Zuko smiles, balls one hand into a loose fist, and taps the fingers against his mouth.

"Zuko doesn't talk," Sokka says with a shrug. "We don't know why––he's teaching us his hand language, but it's kind of slow going. He can write, but he hasn't really told us much of anything about himself. Can we tell him? He's trustworthy, he's basically my dad's common sense." Sokka has turned to Zuko, who is now eyeing Bato thoughtfully, and he can feel himself shiver as that gaze lays him open and reads him like a book. Those eyes glint gold again, and Bato has a bad feeling.

Zuko nods, short and sharp.

"Okay, so Zuko here defected from the Fire Nation, basically," Sokka states, quick and simple, like ripping off a bandage. "Aang had gotten himself captured by this seriously bad news Admiral, and Zuko got him out. As soon as Aang learns Zuko's language, Zuko's going to teach him firebending."

A firebender.

A firebender. Next to his kids. Traveling with the Avatar.

A firebender. In. His. Room.

The smoke from the cookfire is choking. Pain races up and down Bato's arm. The ash-maker is too close. Too close to the cookfire, too close to the kids, too close to Bato . The knife is in his hand before he even thinks to draw it.

"Bato!"

Katara sounds scared. She should be, she's sitting next to a firebender. Ash-makers killed Kya.

"Bato. Stop. Put it down."

Hakoda? But Hakoda's in the East.

"Bato." The voice rings with Hakoda's authority, and it pierces some of the haze that's settled over Bato's mind. "Bato. There is no threat. Put. The knife. Down. "

Bato blinks, and suddenly he's back, in his room at the Abbey, and when had he stood up? The knife falls to the floor beside his foot. Sokka stands before him, tall, so tall when did he get so tall, his own dagger drawn and held at the ready, half in front of a white-faced, kneeling Zuko being comforted by Katara.

"Bato." Sokka has never sounded more like his father than he does in this instance, and Bato almost snaps to attention on instinct. He drags his eyes away from the prostrate firebender to his best friend's son, who is studying him with a hunter's gaze, cool and assessing and sharp. When did Sokka transform from a goofy boy to this warrior?

"Bato," Sokka says again, steel threading his voice. "Zuko is under the protection of the Chieftain's Heir. He is not to be harmed by word or deed. Doing so is an affront to me, and to my father as Chief. Do I have your word as a Warrior of the Water Tribe?"

This man will make a great Chief someday, Bato thinks, as he drops to one knee and says aloud, "I swear by Tui and La as a Warrior of the Water Tribe that Zuko of the Fire Nation shall not be intentionally harmed by word or deed by my hand.”

Sokka nods sharply, sheathes his dagger, and turns to his friend, dropping to one knee and murmuring to him. After a few nods and headshakes, and one odd gesture where Zuko shakily places one loose fist palm out on his forehead and then stretches out the thumb and pinky finger, the firebender slowly gets to his feet and disappears out the door. Sokka and Katara share a look, and Sokka sits back down facing Bato.

“Okay, what in La’s name just happened?” He asks, pinning Bato with a hard look.

Bato shifts uneasily on his mat. “Where is he going?”

“That’s not the question right now, but he’s gonna go hang out with Appa for a while,” Sokka replies, waving a hand as though letting a firebender run around a peaceful Abbey was nothing to worry about. Sokka must have seen something of his worry on Bato’s face, because his blue eyes turned to sharpened ice. “Zuko has my trust. If it weren’t for him, Katara and I would have died, and Aang would be on a ship to the Fire Nation capital as a trophy. You’re on thin ice, though. What. Just. Happened?”

Bato bows his head. “Ever since your father brought me here, I’ve been… struggling,” he says quietly. “Fire is not the comfort it once was. Firebenders figure… prominently… in my nightmares. When you said that Zuko was going to teach the Avatar firebending… I’m afraid I lost my head a little bit.”

Sokka’s lips press into a line. “That’s not a good thing, Bato,” he says. “You need to get a grip on that, because to end this war we’re going to need Fire Nation allies. Including firebenders. We can’t afford to alienate people willing to work with us just because you can’t handle that they bend fire.”

Bato knows he’s right. Every word is exactly as Hakoda would have said, and Bato has every intention of telling his best friend exactly how much his son has grown.

“I suppose I should apologize to Zuko,” Bato sighs, running a hand over his face. He should probably talk to one of the sisters about his reaction, as well. They’re pretty well skilled in healing both bodies and minds, and he does not want a repeat of tonight when and if the issue of …firebending allies… comes up again.

Sokka nods, but Katara pins Bato with a frown. “It can wait until morning,” she declares. “Give him a chance to calm down.”

Aang returns, a bit obnoxiously cheerful in the solemn room, and Bato wonders at the Spirits who had seen fit to grant the world a child Avatar.

Zuko doesn’t return.

The next morning, Bato leaves his room and finds Zuko in the courtyard, practicing what look like bending forms. Aang sits nearby, watching with wide eyes. The older boy is stripped to the waist, even in the chilly morning air, and every movement he makes is controlled, precise, and calculated. There is no fire, most likely in deference to their current location, but Bato can easily imagine the flames bursting from Zuko’s strikes and trailing like ribbons from his kicks.

Zuko finishes his practice, spots Aang, and reaches the Avatar’s side in long strides. He makes a series of gestures, fluid and quick, to which Aang responds with his own slow, clumsy movements. Zuko corrects him, fixing the positioning of fingers and guiding the movement of hands, all with a gentleness that Bato would never have expected to see from a firebender. Aang tries again, and this time gets an approving nod. Aang beams and skips away. Zuko shakes his head, smiling wryly, and Bato takes the opportunity to approach.

As soon as he takes the first step, Zuko’s face snaps in his direction, his entire body going stiff and his expression wiping clear. The boy watches keenly as Bato comes closer, eyes darting here and there as though searching for weapons, but Bato had made sure to leave every weapon he has in his room this morning. No need to make the situation worse. He stops just out of his own arms’ reach, and is gratified to see Zuko relax just a little bit.

“Zuko, I would like to apologize for my behavior last night,” Bato says formally. “I do not know quite what came over me, but I will ensure that it does not happen again. I am sorry; I know I frightened you, and I sincerely apologize.”

Zuko’s posture slowly relaxes, although he never loses the military-erect stance. He forces a half-smile at Bato, shrugs a little, and makes a quick couple of shapes with one hand before striding off in the direction of the bathhouse.

Later that morning, Bato and the kids head back to Bato’s ship, and Bato takes them “ice dodging”, if it can be called such when dodging rocks instead of ice. Despite Zuko’s and Aang’s obvious inexperience with sailing, the kids all work together flawlessly, and Sokka’s use of his crew’s bending abilities is inspired.

When it’s over, Bato takes a bowl of face paint and conducts the Marking ceremony.

“The Spirits of Water bear witness to these Marks!” He intones, and draws the first mark on Sokka’s forehead. “For Sokka, the Mark of the Wise. The same Mark your father earned. For Katara and Zuko, the Mark of the Brave. Your courage inspires us.” When Zuko flinches as Bato reaches to draw the Mark on his forehead, Katara takes the bowl from him and draws it herself. “Your courage is especially inspiring, Zuko,” Bato continues, smiling at the young man. “I know that I didn’t give you much reason to trust me, and your decision to bend despite your fear that I might attack you showed enormous courage and trust in your fellow warriors. That is truly inspiring.”

Bato takes the paint bowl back from Katara and turns to Aang. “And for Aang, the Mark of the Trusted. You are now an honorary member of the Water Tribe, as is Zuko.”

He draws the Mark on Aang’s forehead, over the blue arrow, but instead of looking happy, Aang’s eyes are downcast.

“I can’t,” he says quietly.

“Sure you can!” Katara says brightly, while Zuko and Sokka look confused.

Aang wipes off the Mark and backs away. “No, you can’t trust me,” he asserts.

"What are you talking about?" Katara demands, and Zuko begins to look alarmed as Aang curls in on himself, and pulls a crumpled piece of parchment from his tunic.

"A messenger gave this to me for Bato," he says quietly.

Bato can only watch as the crew that had worked together so well just twenty minutes ago falls apart before his eyes.

Sokka shouts, Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs silently, and Katara stands staring at Aang with a heartbroken expression on her face until Sokka stomps away and demands, "Katara, are you with me?"

She pauses for a moment, but only a moment, and then her shoulders stiffen and she closes her eyes and replies quietly, “I’m with you, Sokka.”

As Sokka leads the way back to the Abbey, Bato glances back to see Zuko cuff Aang across the back of the head.

Everyone is packed and ready to leave within an hour, and after a brief goodbye at the Abbey gates, Aang and Zuko go one way with Appa and Momo, and Bato leads Sokka and Katara in the opposite direction.

They walk in silence for a long time, and Bato doesn’t really know how to lighten the oppressive sadness that surrounds the kids. He’s thrilled to finally be returning to his brother warriors, and he’s so excited to be bringing his niece and nephew to see their father. They’ve both grown so much, and Bato can’t wait to see the look on Hakoda’s face when he sees them.

A wolf howls in misery somewhere in the distance, and Bato feels his spirit howling in answer.

“That wolf sounds so sad," Katara says quietly.

"It's probably wounded," Sokka replies.

"No, it's been separated from the pack," Bato interjects. "I understand that pain. It's how I felt when the Water Tribe warriors had to leave me behind. They were my family, and being apart from them was more painful than my wounds."

Sokka has a pensive expression on his face as he turns to study the path they had just walked.

"Sokka?" Katara asks.

Sokka takes a deep breath, and Bato knows what he's going to say before he says it. "We need to go back. I wanna see Dad, but helping Aang is where we're needed the most. And Zuko… he can probably take care of himself okay, but if he gets to the North Pole and the Tribe doesn't believe Aang when he tells them Zuko's on our side… We need to go back."

Katara smiles. "You're right."

Bato is so, so proud of them he could burst. He strides forward and puts a hand on each of their shoulders. "Your father will understand, and I know he's proud of you."

There's only the slightest shake in Sokka's voice as he says, "Thanks, Bato."

"I know where to go from here," Bato continues, and fishes the map out of his tunic to hand to Sokka. "Take this in case you want to find us. I'll leave a message at the rendezvous point."

The kids each give him a hug, and Bato continues up the path alone.

It takes a month and a half, three weeks of which are spent sailing, but Bato eventually makes it to the cove in Chameleon Bay where the Southern Water Tribe fleet is anchored. During this time, the moon actually disappears for about half an hour or so, and Bato is terrified out of his wits until it reappears. He doesn't want to think about how that could have happened, so he puts it out of his mind until he's reunited with his brother warriors.

Hakoda embraces him with tears in his eyes, the strength of his hug around Bato's middle a testament to his worry. The men tease him about his "vacation", and Bato gives as good as he gets, ecstatic to be back with his brothers.

That night, around the campfire, Bato turns to his Chief.

"Hakoda," he says, "you'll never guess who I ran into."

Previous | Next

#atla #atla fanfic #awkpenproductions presents #dragon of the yuyan #part 11 perspective #full text post

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the-last-cuddlebender · 4 years

Text

Moonpeach Blossoms

Aang is a ~little shit~. Aang is also late.

Katara wants her damn hug.

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A/N: Aang is a wholesome, sassy little shit, and he gives me some very strong Thomas O’Malley Cat vibes. (speedwrite challenge--under an hour)

Rating: G (H for hugs)

Words: 1,335

ArchiveOfOurOwn

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The ground is pink and blanketed by a fluffy sea of moonpeach blossoms. Katara’s pacing carves through it like a knife.

Aang was supposed to be gone for only a few days.

It had been nearly two weeks.

Katara, again, spins on her heel to stride across her little trough of exposed grass. The green and pink contrast would have been pleasant if she wasn’t in such a sour mood.

Her skin crawls like a caged tigerdillo’s. She hugs herself a bit tighter, and her eyes keep to the cloudy sky.

She would have been after him in a heartbeat if he hadn’t taken Appa.

Katara pulls out Aang’s letter and reads it again even though the words were seared in her mind the second she received it.

He said he would be home today.

He promised.

Aang never broke a promise.

“Stupid Avatar, stupid Zuko, stupid dragon—”

Katara nearly growls. She’s grateful that instinct has her folding up Aang’s letter when the heat in her face wants to tear it to shreds. She straightens out a crease before tucking it into the inner pocket of her dress.

“‘It’s just a little search and rescue, sweetie.’ ‘I’ll be home in a few days, sweetie.’ ‘You can’t come because we don’t know what the Masters will think of a waterbender, sweetie.’”

Katara throws her hands up. She storms to the little bench, the one Aang had terraformed for them, under their blooming moonpeach trees.

She grumbles at the wind when it blows by like a glancing kiss. She often talked to it when Aang wasn’t around. He was its last bender, and he and his frustratingly playful element had become synonymous in her mind.

“Go away. I’m mad at you.”

The wind doesn’t go. If anything, it blows harder. Moonpeach blossoms swirl around her like a small hurricane before the wind frolics away.

Katara plops her chin in her hand and bounces her leg. She blows a pink petal and stray hair from her face.

...She’s grumbling a curse that would have impressed even Toph when the wind returns with Aang’s laugh.

Katara freezes, stunned by the relief crawling up every nerve. Warmth blossoms in her somersaulting belly, filling some empty part of her and spilling over like water from an upturned leaf.

More moonpeach blossoms rain down on her.

Katara looks up.

Aang’s smirk reaches his eyes when she finally finds him, not even an arm’s-length above her. He was laying on his branch like a leopard on a warm day, lounging with his face on his fist like he hadn’t been gone for longer than he ever should be (or ever would be again—that Katara would make sure). He lazily shook the branch beside him to sprinkle her with more moonpeach blossoms. He tried singing, but he was smiling so wide that all he could do was hum and try to keep from laughing too hard, especially when Katara puffed her cheeks and crossed her arms.

Katara couldn’t hide her blush, and it makes him laugh all the more.

Aang gives her a calculating look and a nod, approving of the glaze of moonpeach blossoms on his fiancé. His little laugh and half-lidded eyes are satisfied to the brim.

Then, in a few quick moves like he was part lemur, Aang hangs upside down from his perch to kiss her forehead and grumpy cheeks.

“Hi, sweetie~”

His gentle voice is smug and warm—familiar and home—and it turns Katara’s insides to ooze. He kisses her nose and curls her hair behind her ears. Katara puffs her cheeks and purses her lips and tries to look angry even though it only makes his smile wider.

He’s crouching on the arm of the bench before she realizes it. The tree branch faintly shudders, and now they’re both covered in moonpeach blossoms.

He talks some more. Or maybe he was humming? Katara can’t quite tell. She was reading the thousands of ‘I love you’s and ‘I missed you’s that jumped around in his eyes like polarbeardog pups eager to see her. They wrap around her and tug into a cozy waltz the part of her heart that he had made his own.

...Katara glances away twice but is drawn back to him by an unseen force that she only half-hates. She kisses his cheek, and Aang—the brat—swoons and falls back on the ground in a display that would have the Ember Island Players taking notes. Moonpeach blossoms gush up and gently fall like splashed water.

Aang peeks open one eye, his hand clutched over his apparently wounded heart, and grins at her.

Katara is not amused.

He smiles even wider.

He sits next to her on the bench as he chases away the last of his laughs. His hand finds hers, and the tension flees Katara’s shoulders like he had just cut the strings that held her together. He kisses her hand like it was the most valuable thing in the world.

Katara scowls. He was making it increasingly difficult for her to be mad at him.

Aang wraps an arm around her and scoots closer to her just as he tugs her closer to him. Katara was already curling her arms around his torso—almost laying on him in the process—and letting her head find its home under his chin.

He doesn’t smell like dried blood or the sorry excuses for soap he normally used to wash out bloodstains (in the hopes that she won’t notice and worry). He’s not favoring any limb, and there wasn’t any hiccup in the airbending-grace of his movements, but the pads of her fingers find a welt on his two bottom ribs that is large and angry enough to be felt even through his robes.

Katara scowls and holds him tighter. Aang kisses her head and pulls her closer.

Aang leans against the tree’s trunk. He doesn’t stop humming. The sound is a dull rumble against Katara’s ear that digs under her skin and compels her muscles into complacency like his voice was a siren’s song. She gladly drowns herself in him.

The wind kisses her face again; Katara sighs and welcomes it.

“I missed you.”

Katara didn’t know how Aang heard her, but he huffed a small laugh that bounced warmly against her and had her smiling despite herself.

He kissed her temple and spoke into her hair. “If you think missing me is hard, you should try missing you.”

As he speaks, Aang’s hand slips under hers. He pulls it away from examining the injury on his side, and he cradles it close.

Katara threads their fingers on instinct even though his tactic draws a frustrated sound out of her.

“...You and I are going to have a talk about that.”

“A talk?” Aang gasped excitedly. “Is the Mighty Katara asking little ol’ me on a date?”

“Oh, you—You know exactly what I—”

Aang was already littering her face with smirking apology kisses, taking her down from the inside out. A giggle escaped her, and Katara didn’t know if she wanted to smack or kiss him when he laughed and pulled her flush against him. She rolled her eyes even as he plopped his chin on her head.

She grumbled. “...You just—You just hush up and stay still so I can enjoy this. I’ll nag you later.”

“I look forward to it.” He cuddled impossibly closer, and he settled them like he didn’t intend for them to move for a long while.

“I love you.”

He said it like he was sharing a part of his soul with her, and Katara melted to slush in his arms.

“I love you, too.”

Aang hummed some more and petted her hair. The wind stirred the moonpeach blossoms, and the tender petals touched any part of them that they couldn’t hold.

Katara had always appreciated the feeling of returning home.

She loves the feeling of home returning to her even more.

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The sweeties will sweet until all the sweet has been sweeted.

(speedwrite challenge)

#kataang #aang #katara #avatar the last airbender #atla #Aang is a ~little shit~#Katara is ~too tired for this~#sweeties gonna sweet #speed writing #ao3 #myfanfictiontag #post

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angel-squid-trash-ghost · 4 years

Text

Parental Guidance Pt.4

The sled was packed and ready to go. Katara climbed on to make sure their pile did not fall. Zuko, Katara and Kanna had worked their fingers to the bone mending and sewing. Summer had started and by the look of the pile, everyone in the village wanted a new wardrobe. Yise’s baby was also going to get her name soon. The most important delivery was her tiny parka.

Yise insisted on inviting them inside. Her home didn’t look much different besides there being less furs. It had been a while since Katara had seen a marriage bed. Kanna presented the ceremonial dress. It had taken three tireless nights to fix every bead and bone into the intricate designs. On the bottom was a wavy array of blue glass beads and a lining of fox fur. Around the collar was a zig-zag pattern made of shells and bone shards also lined with fox fur. And all around the deep blue garment were threaded embroidery of birds flying. Yise choked up when she held it.

“Kanna, it’s absolutely beautiful. I don’t think Princess Yue’s could have been this fancy. The lamp oil isn’t enough. I have to find something else to repay you.” Yise gushed.

Kanna waved her hand blushing slightly. “Oh you stop now. It will be an important day. She should look her best.” Kanna touched the small nose of the baby on her back.

“Ms. Yise can we hold her?” Katara asked with big eyes.

Yise agreed and took the small body from out the amaut. She sat the children down and carefully placed the baby in Katara’s arms. Katara made sure to hold the baby in all the right places and support her head. She marveled at the new life. The baby’s hair was already thick and curly. She cooed when Katara spoke to her. Zuko was delighted when the baby grabbed his finger. He praised her endlessly on how cute she was. The children laughed when the baby squealed loudly.

“What is her name?” Zuko said unaware of the secrecy that came behind naming ceremonies.

Before Kanna could explain, Yise answered, “Well an Earth sailor said their word for ocean was Temma. I think it would be unique.”

“An Earth name. That would be unique.” Kanna nodded.

“We have a Zuko why not a Temma!”

Kanna smiled. Her heart was warmed in its entirety, “That’s very true. I think Temma is a wonderful name.”

“Can I? Please?” Zuko didn’t move his eyes from the bundle of joy. Yise moved her daughter from one set of arms to the other. “She is so cute! Hi kissy baby! Hi!” Zuko enthused making kissing faces.

“She really likes you Zuko. She’s so small.” Katara laughed with the baby.

“Yeah. Like Lala.”

Katara hadn’t met anyone with that name, “Who’s Lala?”

Zuko thought hard frowning some. “I don’t remember.” Holding the baby suddenly didn’t feel as good as it did a second ago.

Katara sensed his distress, “That’s alright. Maybe later you’ll remember.”

Zuko nodded looking back down at the rosy face, “Yeah. Maybe later. But now I say hi to Kissy baby!” The baby squealed again shaking her chubby arms.

Kanna watched Yise watch the children. Yise was always a sweet girl. She wasn’t one to gossip but she could hold one in a conversation for hours. It came as a surprise when she married the gruff and quiet Danak. But everything seemed to be going well. The new addition to the village was proof of that. Kanna took pride in her role. Her son was chief and led the men in hunts and battles, but she was the leader of the women. She was the one they would go to for advice and counsel. She watched Yise’s face go from content to thoughtful. Yise sighed.

“She’s a beauty. Just like her mother.”

“Oh.” Yise turned back to Kanna, “Thank you. She has her daddy’s stormy eyes and her mommy’s nose. Sometimes I joke that I only married Danak so we can have pretty babies.”

The women chuckled. Yise didn’t keep her smile long before she turned back to the children, “Is everything alright?”

“With Danak? Yes! It was a joke. I know people told me he was a mean one but he’s not at all. He’s truly a gentle giant. May I be swept away if I dared ask for a better husband. And you should see him with the baby. He blubbered when she barely said dada.”

Kanna nodded. That was good to hear. “I’m glad but that is not what I meant, dear.” Kanna had a special skill of drawing information from people. She had to if she was going to keep the women folk safe. “You look to be thinking about something.”

Yise looked at her hands, “I can tell you anything?” She didn’t need an answer when she looked to Kanna’s face. “Well, to be honest with you Kanna, and please take no offense, but I can’t help thinking it’s strange to see a Fire child holding my baby. I never thought I’d see the day! But he’s so well-mannered. And pleasant. Katara likes him too. It’s nice to see her have a friend. After what happened to her mother. Poor girl. Most of us don’t really have a problem with him being here anyway.”

“Most of you? The other women?”

“No, husbands too.” Yise paused, “Danak wasn’t keen to the idea. He was worried the boy would be a firebender. Oh, and do not get me started on Kehana! That old witch has it out for him. I’m surprised she didn’t try to poison him. It was a good thing Katara was there or that poor child would probably be dead!”

“That is troubling. Do people think I made the wrong decision?” Kanna feigned.

“Not me. I knew when you took Zuko into your home that you must have saw something in him. And Hakoda hasn’t made a complaint yet. That has calmed Danak’s concerns down some. It’s all the same to me. The more the merrier.” Yise clapped.

At some point the baby had changed hands again. Katara now had the baby howling in laughter, “I just want to eat you all up! Yum, yum, yum!”

…

Zuko pulled the sled back home. Katara sat in the back holding their basket of traded items. Hakoda had come back early. He had not been feeling well and Kanna put some soup on at the first look of his red nose. Hakoda sat next to the window, against his mother’s wishes and watched the village go on without him.

“Can we go out and play?” Katara pleaded to her grandmother.

“I don’t see why not. It is a beautiful day.”

“Yay!” The children cheered.

“I love you Gran-Gran!” Katara kissed her on the cheek.

“I love you Gran-Gran!” Zuko did the same.

“I love you Dad!” Katara went to leap in her father’s lap.

“Sorry, not today kiddo, Dad’s got the sniffles.” Hakoda stopped her.

“Ok. I love you. Bye!” Katara ran out the door.

“Feel better, Sir. Love you. Bye!” Zuko ran after her.

Hakoda scratched his beard. “Love you too?” He watched them through the window chewing his lip.

“What are you thinking.” Kanna handed him a bowl.

Hakoda blew on his food a few times, “I am not sure about him living with us. You went out today. What are the women saying?”

Hakoda knew it was somewhat inappropriate to have his mother collect information for him. However, it was necessary to be a good chief. He knew some of the men wouldn’t be completely honest with him. But the woman never lied to Kanna. It was a superpower she had possessed since he was a boy. When him and Bato pulled pranks around the village, Kanna was always able to pinpoint who did what, when, where, and why. If there was a why. Just with a few maternal smiles and foreboding stares. She was not a woman to be trifled with.

“What do you mean?” Kanna sat on her stool.

Hakoda squinted, “Like what are they saying about him being here. How do they feel?”

“Most of them do not mind. Although their attitude is less accepting and more like an unusual fascination.”

“That is not so strange.”

“It isn’t right. Zuko isn’t an oddity. He is a little boy.” Kanna snapped.

Hakoda took his eyes out of the window, “I know that, mother.”

"Mm. They all agree that Kehana has the strongest opinion."

Hakoda sucked his teeth, "That miserable hag. Chief Arnook and his shit excuse to send a spy. She does not even bend. I should have been more forceful in my refusal. Anyway, she isn't one of us. She does not have a say." Hakoda ate, “Anything else.”

“About Zuko? Nothing really. They do not know much about him. He is with us all the time.”

A lightbulb went off in Hakoda’s head. “Mother? Have I ever told you how much I enjoy our talks?”

“Oh, hi Dad. What are you guys talking about?” Sokka walked in and threw his practice gear at the entryway.

"Sokka go outside and play." Hakoda said plainly.

"But I'm hungry. Can I have some soup?"

"Did you hear me?" Hakoda raised a brow.

Sokka threw his arms down in disbelief, "I don’t want to play with them. They’re babies. They’re probably playing some stupid baby game."

"Boy, if you do not get your narrow behind-"

Sokka threw his head back, "Argh! Fine!"

“My little boy is getting older.” Hakoda looked to the window.

Zuko hopped in place humming a song he made up. Katara put the finishing touches on their snow castle. Which was really just a six feet high pile. They rebuilt a few times as the weather got warmer. Katara giggled to herself watching Zuko go up and down. Zuko hopped when he was happy. She didn’t know why but she didn’t mind it. She liked to see Zuko happy. His first weeks had been rough. But he was able to say more and he was a lot more comfortable in the house. It was the best thing in the world having your best friend live with you.

"What song is that?" Katara asked him.

"The sun is out, and it is so pretty!" Zuko sang leaping higher.

"Just like me. That's why I'm the princess! Let's go Warrior Zuko. You have to defeat the monster!"

Zuko grabbed his piece of driftwood. "Ok!"

Katara sat atop her snowy throne. She described a giant green winged monster to Zuko. They planned how to defeat it with their many pretend abilities. Zuko was going to make his first attack when Sokka sulked towards them.

"What do you want?" Katara sneered.

"Dad says I have to play with you guys."

Before Katara could say anything Zuko happily agreed. It was strange because Zuko didn't like Sokka that much. It all made sense when Zuko told Sokka he had to be the monster.

"I'm not going to be the monster!" Sokka crossed his arms.

"Yes. You have to." Zuko grinned like a fox.

"Nuh-uh. I'm going to be a real warrior one day. And Katara is my sister so I have to save her."

"But I marry Katara." Zuko scoffed.

“You what!” Sokka bared his teeth. “You will never marry my sister!”

“In the game stupid head!” Katara hands fisted.

“Stupid head?”

“Don't say that Zuko. It's not nice." Katara wagged her finger.

"But you say-"

"No. We don't say mean things."

"Ok." Zuko glanced at the ground and then back up. "Katara!"

"Yes?"

"You stupid head." Zuko cackled.

Katara threw a chunk of castle at him. He laughed anyway. Even Sokka laughed a little.

"We can settle this easy. Stick your feet out." Katara demanded. Sokka stuck his foot out. Zuko mimicked him. "Water, water in a pool. Show me which one is the fool." She pointed back and forth until she landed on Sokka's foot. "Sokka you're the monster." Katara hailed.

"Pfft! Fine Whatever." Her brother griped

Zuko hopped twice and then held his driftwood as mighty as any warrior would.

"Alright. Mighty warrior Zuko! Save me!" Katara put her hand to her forehead.

"Yes Princess! I will defeat you, monster!" Zuko declared.

Sokka quickly got into character. The baby games notion completely disappearing from his mind, "Not if I get you first!"

Zuko and Sokka went back and forth trading blow for imaginary blow. "I use bite power! I bite you!" Zuko open and shut his hand.

"I use my roar power. I knock you back." Sokka yelled towards Zuko.

Zuko put up his arm, "I block it. I use my weapon! Jah!" Zuko swung his stick but not too close to touch Sokka.

"My skin is impenetrable! I use punch power! And hit you directly!" Sokka punched the air over Zuko's head.

Zuko only knew what some of those words meant but dramatically fell back anyway. He held his chest and stuck his tongue out, falling to the ground, “Princess Katara! Help me!"

“She has powers too?” Sokka laughed.

“Of course I do! I’m the princess!” Katara slid down the castle landing to Zuko’s unmoving body. Sokka almost fell over with laughter. “Princess healing powers go! I make the warrior Zuko all better!” She placed a butterfly kiss in his hair.

Zuko bolted up, “I am better! I use my weapon. I hit you on the belly! Jah!”

“Oh no! My only weakness. My stomach!” Sokka fell to his knees, “Ah! My guts!”

“I got the monster!” Zuko celebrated.

“And then we live happily ever after. The end!” Katara hugged him hard.

“What do you want to play now?” Zuko asked Sokka.

“Hey Sokka! What are you doing?” A voice called.

Katara saw the twins Noaluk and Yoton, Moak’s sons, coming up the hill. They were older and boys so Katara didn’t have much to do with them. Sokka knew them though. They would have had to been at training and hunting trips with him. Katara wanted to think that they wanted to join them. But by their faces and contentious gait that they weren’t there to save a princess.

“I’m playing.” Sokka stood up. He put his hands behind his back.

“With the burnt bastard?” Noaluk spoke first.

“Yeah. Aren’t you afraid he’s gonna set you on fire?” Yoton snickered.

“It’s not like that. My dad made me. It’s no big deal.” Sokka rubbed the back of his head.

Yoton walked up on Zuko. Katara instinctively grabbed his hand, “Just go away.”

“Why? We want to play. We can play soldiers. We’ll be Water Tribe and Zuko can be the Fire Nation soldier we kill.”

“That’s not funny. Go away!” Katara balled her fists.

Noaluk smirked, “You’re pretty bossy. Why don’t you be a good little girl and shut up.”

“Hey! Don’t talk to my sister like that.” Sokka took a step forward.

Noaluk pulled Sokka by the collar, “What are you going to do? Are you a traitor like her?”

“Come here, you ugly brat.” Yoton took another step forward.

“Leave them alone!” Sokka kicked Noaluk and tackled Yoton.

Noaluk recovered quick enough to get to Sokka before he could land his first punch. Katara’s reacted quickly and jumped on Noaluk. She wrapped his arms around his neck pulling him away from her brother. She didn’t think she was strong enough to fight the older boy. She knew she wasn’t. But it didn’t stop her from trying to help. Yoton flipped Sokka over onto his back. He belted Sokka relentlessly. Zuko was yelling something in Fire’s tongue, struggling to force him off. Yoton shoved Zuko away. Hard. Zuko hit his head

Katara gasped and lost her grip. Noaluk threw her over himself like a ragdoll. Katara thought hitting the soft snow would hurt less. She felt the sting in her eyes as Noaluk pulled her up. She heard Zuko roar something in Fire’s tongue. The thwack was louder. Zuko had swung the driftwood into Noaluk’s temple.

"Bato mentioned that he heard Zuko talking to Katara in Fire's Tongue. What do you think about that?"

"It'll be good for them."

"In what way other than that my daughter would know a language no one else can speak?" Saying it out loud made waiting for an answer useless. "I will only allow it in the house." His mother did not make a gesture to disagree, so he continued, "What if he turns out to be a bender?"

Kanna nodded slowly, "Well you would have to get a master to teach him."

Hakoda scoffed. “Yeah I will just send a letter to the Fire Lord and ask nicely.”

“A better question is how will you handle it. Do you think he will be a danger? Will you be more likely to let him stay if he was not?”

"If he were, we could use it to our advantage. At the end of it...he is a child. And I..."Hakoda forgot he was speaking aloud and went back into his own head. He peered back out the window. “Shit!” Hakoda leapt up. He rushed to get up, his body protesting with shallow aches.

Kanna put a hand to her chest. “What is the matter?”

“Zuko just hit someone with a stick!” Hakoda made his way outside.

“Oh my! He probably had a good reason.” Kanna followed him out the door. Now Hakoda was running. “Do not be too hard on him!”

Yoton abandoned his assault on Sokka and made for Zuko. “I’ll kill you, Fire Nation scum!”

The blood rushed in Katara’s ears. She watched Yoton sprint for Zuko. He flinched but gripped the wood ready to swing again. And then it was as if time had slowed down. Something pulled in Katara’s heart. Her hands tingled. A strange sensation reverberated through her veins. Like a river surging, flooding everything in it’s path. She screamed at the top of her lungs. Suddenly, their castle, the little world Zuko and her had created together, broke and shot at Yoton. The air around them sparkled as the snow exploded. Yoton was thrown into his brother. She inhaled. The shimmering snow crackled and froze. They both struggled to break the icy cage. Katara was sweating suddenly completely drained. She saw spots and Zuko. Then Sokka. She rocked back. Strong hands caught her. It was her dad. She let herself slip into darkness unable to answer to her own name.

…

Katara felt like she had woken up from a really long nap. She had somehow ended up in her bed. She blinked around the room. She went to rub her eyes but pulled something with her. Zuko had his fingers locked in hers. He sat up. She saw he was crying. His eyes were so red. She instantly cupped his chin. She didn’t like she wasn’t there for him. There was yelling just outside. It had gotten dark. She must have slept for hours. She wondered why he just didn’t wake her.

“Katara? Are you ok?” Zuko’s voice was hoarse.

“I’m sleepy. What happened?”

“You trapped Yoton and Noaluk in a block of ice. They’re out there trying to get them out. Then you wouldn’t wake up.” Sokka answered with his mouthful. He didn’t seem to be as troubled as Zuko was.

“Me?” Katara tilted her head. Zuko hugged her tight.

“Oh, my dear. You’re the first waterbender in the Southern Water Tribe in forty-three years.” Gran-Gran didn’t look as thrilled as Katara was.

#katara #Zuko #sokka #hakoda #zuko x katara #baby zuko #kanna #oc #atla fanfic #Avatar The Last Airbender

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snippychicke · 4 years

Text

NSFW Alphabet

Also posted on AO3; NSFW alphabet for Iroh from ATLA.

Because yes, I have a thing for older men.

A-Aftercare You can bet Iroh is going to be great about aftercare. He'll persuade you into a cup of tea to help hydrate after the workout he undoubtedly put you through, and if you're up to a bath, consider it drawn and warmed to the perfect temperature. More than likely, he will join you, allowing you to relax into him as you soak.

Do you just wanna relax and cuddle? He is happy to indulge, though he will still have a cup of tea waiting just in case.

B- Body part Iroh loves every part of a lady. Their curves, hair, face, laughter, smile, all of it. Beautiful women come in all sorts of sizes and shapes and he can see the beauty in all of them.

But his favorite is having a soft surface to rest his head, whether that be a pair of thick thighs, a soft stomach, or an ample chest. Softness to clutch too and feel.

As for his own body, he is proud to say for his age, he is still quite fit and sufficiently endowed.

C- Cum

While he doesn't see the appeal in painting his partner with cum, he does feel something to see a small trace of it on your lips and chin or having it staining your thighs and stomach.

But he prefers to come deep inside you, feeling you spasm around him and milking him for all he's worth. He loves the thought of filling you up and perhaps implanting a child within your womb.

D- Dirty Secret

Iroh does have a recurring fantasy about getting you pregnant. Though he is quite older in age, having a lover makes him think about having children. And seeing you round with child, breasts full of milk, and that special glow of motherhood can cause him rather aroused and determined to try.

E-Experience

Considering his history, the fact he had a child and was probably quite the ladies man as a prince and general, Iroh has quite a bit of experience. It's one of the benefits of his age, after all. He may not have the stamina of his youth, but that doesn't mean he can't still bring you to multiple orgasms through the night.

F- Favorite Position

While he is fond of many different positions and techniques, one of his favorites would be reclining among a pile of cushions, your knees straddling his hips, your stomach and chest pressed against his. Being able to watch your face as you ride him, allowing his hands to wander as he kisses you, being able to guide your hips down to his or play with your breasts until you come.

G- Goofy

Let's be honest, Iroh would be quite a goof in bed at times. Especially if your mood needs a little help, be it your anxiety, self-consciousness, or whatever else that you struggle with. Expect wet sloppy kisses, tickling, light little kisses scattered about your body (especially odd places to make you laugh), and of course tickling you purposely with his beard. Whatever it takes to make you smile, even if you're not in the mood to have sex, he just wants to make you feel better.

H-Hair

He still has some darker pubic hair down, and he does keep it trimmed when he suspects he might have a bedmate. It's well mixed with grey, of course. and the faint silver trail that leads from his navel down is sparser than in his youth, but still there to tempt his lovers.

I- Intimacy

This man knows full well that sex only makes up a small part of a relationship. He is going to treat you like a queen and shower you with affection so you would never doubt his feelings for you. Expect breakfast in bed, random presents, romantic dinners, spontaneous dates, and kisses throughout the day. As well as a sweet cliche and sometimes elaborate nicknames.

J- Jacking off

Maybe early in the relationship, before the two of you take that step he would take himself in hand. He'd think about finally having you in his bed, or having you kneeling before him, your hands replacing his. Otherwise, if he finds himself rather aroused and you're nearby, he will find a way to draw you away to somewhere private for a quickie. He is a master at planning, after all. He would much rather have you than his own hand.

K- Kink

He loves to edge his lover. To drive them wild and hold that power is as close as dominating as he gets. He is a master of having you on the edge of overstimulation, riding the edge of pleasure and pain. Of course, bondage figures into it. He loves having you tied up at his mercy, begging for his touch, for his cock.

L-Location

He would happily have you just about anywhere. Though he would prefer the privacy of your bedroom, he is not averse to any semi-private place, even if the risk of being found is quite high.

M-Motivation

Honestly, for someone his age he has quite a high sex drive. You might find sweet domestic moments turn into something else without much warning. As stated before, Iroh quite likes the idea of having children with you, so you can bet after seeing children run around the Jasmine dragon, he is going to get rather frisky.

N-No

He isn't interested in causing pain, or humiliating/shaming his partners. That just doesn't appeal to him at all, and actually quickly turns him off. He has seen enough pain and hatred in his life to know it doesn't belong in the bedroom.

O- Oral

You can bet Iroh is going to give his partner oral. He loves being between your legs, one leg over his shoulder as he cups your hip, drinking and teasing you mercilessly. He'll probably comment on how much he enjoys your taste, comparing it to a fine cup of tea.

He isn't against receiving either and will praise you between groans, his fingers threading your hair as he tries to control his breathing. The room will probably become full of steam. But seeing you look up at him, lips wrapped around his cock, tongue sliding along his member, will often be his undoing.

P-Pace

His preferred pace would be slow and tender. Patience is a virtue, and he will take his sweet time building both of you to your mutual climax. Be prepared for long sleepless nights, but they will be well worth it.

He might do hard and rough once in a blue moon but guaranteed you are going to have trouble walking the next day.

Q- Quickie Very rarely, unless he has been subtly teasing you for hours beforehand, building your frustration until he knows a quickie will bring you both to the climax he wants.

R-Risk

He is a pro at calculating risks, so you bet he will be up to daring moves when the mood strikes. Slow sensual kisses in the kitchen of Jasmine Dragon. Being handsy in the dark corners of both the Earth palace and Fire palace during official visits nonetheless. And the classic making love out under the open skies.

S-Stamina

There is no denying Iroh is up there in years. However, he is not out of shape, and his stamina would put most younger men to shame. To the point you'll be kinda happy you didn't know him in his prime. He can keep you going for hours when the mood strikes, leaving you to beg him to come.

T-Toys

He isn't afraid of using blindfolds and ties in the bedroom. And he probably wouldn't be averse to adding food to the mix either. And if there was a way tea could be added in, you know he would find it.

U-Unfair

Iroh can be absolutely unfair. It's the one kind of dominating behavior he enjoys. Watching you yet hot and bothered is a great pleasure to him. Edging you for what seems like all night before giving you your release with his own.

But he will always make sure you come as many times as him, if not more.

V- Volume. He rarely raises his voice, but you can bet he is going to talk and tease you most of the time, his voice deep and husky like woodsmoke. He is going to do his best to make sure your the one who can't stay quiet, doing everything he can to make you scream while teasing you about it.

W- Wild card

If you happen to get pregnant, you can bet he is going to dote on you even more. The thought of having children is precious to him, and you can bet he will be telling everyone and strutting around proudly.

He does confuse Zuko when he bursts into the Fire palace to tell him that he's going to be a big brother, again.

X-Xray

This man is all about girth. Shorter, maybe, but stouter for sure. He is the epitome of the saying length isn't all the counts. And you will quickly grow to enjoy how much he stretches you, rubbing all the right places with every thrust.

Y-Yearning So much. Sure he flirts a lot with almost every woman he meets but most of the time it's not serious. But again, despite his age, he has quite a high sex drive. And when he finds a serious partner, its hard for him to keep his hands, or anything else for that matter, to himself.

Z-Zzzz

After the aftercare, he can fall asleep fairly quickly given the chance. Nothing lulls him to sleep faster than the feeling of being sated, knowing hos partner is sated and sleeping beside him. He also tends to cuddle in his sleep as well, a soft warm furnace to keep you warm no matter how cold it is outside.

#Iroh #atla iroh #avatar the last airbender

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 5 years

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Wrought Iron Machine (Part 23)

I swear to God I spell Ghazan’s name differently every single time but like who needs proofreading. *Shrug*

Azula thinks herself to be recklessly ambitious at best and something of a flat out fool at worst. She dresses herself in tribal wear. Around her neck and in her hair, she wears a splendid plume of bright red and yellow feathers with a dash of orange here and there. Equally adorned in feathers is a gold fringed bra with many beads and dangling gems. It is a risky apparel choice for a high scale event. But Fire Of Agni is high risk--everything about them. In way of a skirt she wears an authentic Sun Warrior piece--all four of them will wear such. They will all perform barefoot and with a simple golden band around their biceps.

Her hair is tied up in a high ponytail, fashioned into a golden cuff. In her bangs are a few wooden beads. Under her eyes are three horizontal finger trails of golden face paint.

Zuko stands at the opposite end of the room, entirely topless, exposing his new chest piercings. Azula had questioned that decisions but ultimately it is up to him what he has pierced. He too has weaved some feathers into his hair. Alongside the vertical face paint over his unscarred eye is a similar trail down his chest.

Trying to use her voice as little as possible, Azula motions TyLee over. The girl skips over. She has gone overboard on the feathers. Azula pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. “You’re going to have to pluck some of those feathers.” She instructs in a whisper. She helps TyLee pick a few feathers from her braid and her outfit. She replaces them with a wood-bead necklace.

“Can you give me a hand?” Mai asks from across the room. She instructs Zuko where to weave the shells into her hair, muttering something about how she’ll have the stylists fix it later. She waves off Zuko’s reluctance with a flick of a wrist decorated with a bamboo and palm leaf bracelet. She fingers the shark tooth necklace Zuko gifted to her.

After fussing a tad more with TyLee’s outfit, Azula turns her attention back to her own appearance. Her stylist finally emerges with overly large gold-plate earrings. With careful hands they fix them into her ears and begin brushing her hair. She watches the other members of their makeup artist team get to work on the other three. She instructs the man doing her hair to give it some waves.

“Oh you look so, so cute, Azula!”

She is going for fierce, perhaps even a little feral. But she doesn’t protest, she has to save her voice for more pressing things. Instead she nods in way of a thank you.

“You all look so cute!” TyLee claps her hands together. She fishes around in her personal bag and snaps a few photos. Azula frowns, she wasn’t picture read. TyLee throws her arms around her and snuggles her.

“Careful with my make up.” Azula says softly. “We don’t have time to do it all over again.”

“Oh sorry.” TyLee loosens her hold.

As soon as she runs up to Mai, Zuko approaches her. “Are you sure you want to do this? You can just play your guitar and TyLee can fill in for you.”

Azula shakes her head. “I need to do this Zuko.”

She sees him bite the inside of his lip. She is worrying him.

“I’ll be fine.” Azula insists as as one of the makeup artists adds a few final touches. “I promise.”

Their crew packs up their tools and Azula motions for her bandmates to stand before her.

When all is said and done, Azula is satisfied. She has worked hard to design their costumes and they have come together just as perfectly as she had planned. Perhaps, better, with their hair and makeup in order.

Her content smile fades.

She can’t help but feel as though they’ve gotten all dressed up for nothing.

.oOo.

Kuvira stands in her dressing room, her stylist just having finished fashioning her hair into a elegant and braided low side bun. It had been tricky to find the perfect outfit so last minute, having something custom made had been out of the question. So instead she wears something she found a second-hand store of all places. Deep forest green in color and with a high, black collar. She had handed it over to the band designer and let the woman and her team make tweaks and adjustments. To make it into something more unique. The woman hasn’t failed her. Her stitchwork is impressive with lovely embroidered patterns. She has taken it upon herself to adorn the hem and sleeves with black gems and sequins. All in all it is a rather ritzy gown.

Baatar chooses to wear the dress suit and top hat from the music video. Their designer pins a few broaches to the left chest area; their logo, a guitar, a saxaphone, and a music note among other small symbols.

She slips into the dress and asks Baatar to help her with the zipper. To her relief it goes up without a hitch. She smooths the fabric down and drapes her arms over Baatar’s shoulders. He kisses her on the cheek, sending her teardrop earrings swaying. “You’re going to do wonderful tonight.”

Kuvira rubs his shoulders. “As long as you’re here I will.”

The man flushes and rubs the back of his head. She intends to draw the small moment out. But P’Li barges in. “Have you seen my monocle anywhere?”

“Have you tried your own dressing room?” Kuvira quirks a brow.

“That’s the first place I checked.” She grumbles, pushing at her conductors hat. The V shaped tail of her suit flap about as she picks her way through the room. Her dress shoes click loudly on the ground.

“I found it!” Ghazan calls. He gives P’Li a second to look over before tossing the eyepiece to her. The man standing in the doorway looks more suave than he has in a long while in his long tailcoat with his beard and long sweep of hair combed and styled nicely for a change. He has a few copper pieces threaded into his hair and beard, she could imagine that Ming fancied it.

The woman appears next to him clad in a pair of over-large goggles and a pair of loose fitting overalls. In the pocket are a faux wrench and a faux hammer, they will serve as her drumsticks tonight.

Fashion-wise they are at their best, they will match well with the mechanic, orchestral atmosphere they are trying to create while Kuvira does her best to represent the jazz side of the band.

With luck, they will bring their crowd into a new world, at least for the twenty or so minutes it takes them to play their introduction and sing their three songs.

Kuvira checks her makeup a final time and asks her stylist to highlight her beauty mark a little more as another works to curl a few more strands of loose hair. She inspects the other three and asks if they have any final requests.

“Make my face look more dusty.” Ming instructs. A good idea if she is going to be playing a mechanic.

The stylists take a step back and Kuvira takes it with them. She observes the band as a whole, finding herself satisfied. She goes to join them and motions for their photographer to do his thing. The camera flashes.

Kuvira picks up her decorative cane and leads them to the designated seating area.

.oOo.

They watched an hour’s worth of bands some of them more pleasing than others. Though she absolutely hated some of them, stylistically--Kyoshi’s Power Fist to name one--but regardless they were all undoubtedly talented. Kyoshi’s Power Fist, if nothing else had been unique with their corpse paint and guttural vocals. They were among the new debuts. It is the very same category Fire Of Agni are about to perform under.

Azula is dissatisfied to know that, that meant she will be among the first few bands to perform. But they are the last of the newer bands. With luck the crowd has been warmed up enough.

Standing behind the curtain she is horrifically nervous, maybe even downright terrified. But they need this. They need this more than anything or they will have nothing. Nothing but a smug Ozai taunting them. She is a mess up away from having to resort to begging the man to take her back.

“You’re gonna do great.” TyLee gives her a quick kiss. On a normal day it would have washed the nerves away.

“I hope so.”

She hears the announcement and they are on stage. It puts a dismal pang in her heart to leave the introduction fully to Zuko. “It took a lot to get here.” He announces. “When we started out we could barely scrape together a simple music mover. We were just a small candle.”

The crowd cheers.

“Now we’re here.” He pauses. “And our Fire Of Agni can’t be extinguished.”

The knot returns to her belly; perhaps water and bad press can’t put them out. But a small cyst can smother them completely.

“Get ready Southern Air Sounds, because we…”

“Are the flame!” The crowd chants over him.

Without missing a beat, Azula tears into the first song that they have written. Normally she would save that one for last, but Agni forbid she can’t make it through the whole show. She wants to start strong.

The guitar wails in her hands, in tune with Mai’s bass. TyLee is surrounded by a collection of drums both standard and tribal. If all went according to plan, her drum display will be surrounded by a ring of dancing flame.

So far things are going well, she is forcing out her screams, powerful as ever while Zuko provides backing vocals and a steady flow of fire. Halfway through she sends a thin trail of flames in the direction of TyLee. The wall dances around their drummer as she wails on the cymbals. With each hit, Azula and Zuko flare the flames higher until the song fades out.

The crowd is frantic with cheers. So much so that Zuko almost can’t announce their second song. One of their newer ones. Azula passes her guitar to him so that she can move through a Sun Warrior traditional belly dance. It is something of a cop out, but she likes to think it a clever one. Fire Of Agni has never performed an instrumental version of any of their songs. Not until now. But it leaves a critical window of rest for Azula’s tortured vocal cords.

She tries not to dwell on the injury as TyLee begins. Instead she sets the scene, trying her best to imitate what her music mover had in terms of the haunting blue lighting. TyLee is doing a stunning job of creating a foreboding sound. It is a low and rhythmic pounding of a large fox-deer hide drum. TyLee beats upon it slow and steady with a single drumstick nearly as large as the drum itself. Next to her stands a newly hired woman. She is draped in a feathered cloak with a shekere. Every few beats, the woman gives it a shake. For herself, Azula occasionally gives her rainstick a shift. With each beat a new cloaked figure emerges. One stands with a kora gitar another stands with a small balafon. TyLee has worked tirelessly to teach others to play djembe drums and bongos among other things. TyLee ends the ominous intro with a hit on a gong. A moment of pause and Zuko and Mai begin with their guitar and bass respectively.

Azula has worked just as tirelessly as TyLee to learn this traditional dance inside and out. The beads in her hair smack against her neck and back as she goes through the twirling parts of the dance. The gems stones glimmer across her middle as she shifts and rolls her waistline. The crowd is wholly quiet, they listen more closely than they have in a long while. Towards the end of the song, the guitar and bass fall silent. The song tapers off into a rhythmic beating of the drums. And Zuko comes to dance with her. A highly intimate dance. Close with his body pressed against hers and his hands trailing over her torso.

That is when she spies Ozai in the crowd. The man crosses his arms, his face the picture of disgust.

Azula ignores the man, her performance is better than it ever has been and she isn’t going to sabotage it just to make the man uncomfortable.

By the end of their dance the room falls into complete silence again. They leave no room for cheers and get right into their final song. The song Azula has been dreading. The one with the shrillest shriek midway through.

Her voice seems to have already reached its limit by the end of the first chorus. Her mind screams at her to cut the show short. But ambition takes over. She moves into the tricky climax of the song. She lets out a scream but it isn’t the one she had in mind. Her voice cracks and pain sears through her throat.

It is instinct to try to cry out in pain.

She fights back tears.

And she makes a mistake.

She looks into the crowd.

The smirk on Ozai’s face is wickedly smug.

Azula’s stomach lurches. He has come to watch her fall and he is getting the show he paid for. Her voices has failed her.

She has failed her band.

Failed herself.

.oOo.

Kuvira cringes at the sound that tears from her rival’s throat. Reflexively, she grips Baatar’s hand. It isn’t normal. It is pained and horrible. And she feels some sort of secondhand agony.

There is something overwhelmingly unsettling about watching the poor girl get escorted by a team of paramedics from the stage. It is a wonder the girl is keeping herself together. Deep down, Kuvira knows that the girl will break behind the curtains.

She looks to Baatar who wears a sympathetic grimace.

But the fire isn’t extinguished. The band pushes on with the girl’s brother taking her parts and the drummer taking his. Kuvira is impressed with their quick thinking. Though it leaves her with a sneaking suspicion that they were well aware that the girl was having vocal trouble.

Kuvira is left with way too much time to dwell on it. She finds it hard to pay attention to any of the following bands. She can’t focus on Tears Of Yue, the new band she had been looking forward to. She hopes that she will calm by the time Wan Shi Tong’s Waltz, the very band that inspired her to start her own, took to the stage. They are on after her band, she is thankful for that. With luck she will be able to watch them and enjoy them in full without having to worry about her nerves.

For the time though, they are frayed and frenzied. She simply can’t get the sound of the Fire Of Agni girl’s faltering scream out of her mind. Out of her ears.

She forces it to the back of her mind as she is beckoned backstage.

Wrought Iron Machine is one of the last bands to perform. It is both intimidating and thrilling. She knows how these shows work, they start with lesser known bands to warm up the crowd and move into the esteemed and renowned ones. She is starstricken to be among them. Only Tui & La, Chong And The Nomads, and Wan Shi Tong’s Waltz perform after them.

It settles her anxiousness some to know that, even if they don’t win, they are famous enough to perform nearly last. They are on in ten minutes. That leaves her with ten minutes to sooth her baby. She is under the impression that her own anxiousness has reached the child-to-be. She rubs circles on her belly in an attempt to get the baby to stop squirming so much. It takes Baatar kissing her belly and murmuring something soft and cooing to sooth the babe. Baatar rests his hands on her waist and presses his forehead to hers until they are called onto the stage.

They have a few extra minutes as their full orchestra plays through an extended version of what will be their newest album.

“Let’s kick some fuckin’ ass everyone!” P’Li shouts, as Ghazan pops a bottle. He fills all of their glasses until he comes to Kuvira, “sorry, none for you.” With a boyish grin he skips over her glass and fills Baatar’s.

“Fuck you too, Gazhan.” Kuvira jests.

“Here.” Ming holds out one of her watery arms. “Drink.”

“Gee, thanks, Ming.”

Baatar chuckles.

They set their glasses to the side. P’Li and Gazhan make their way on stage first. Ming waits for the claps to die down before following them. And then She and Baatar wait for round two to die off. She lets the venue go completely quiet before they walk, hand in hand, onto the stage. Her cane thumps on the floor and echos.

She skips the greetings and goes right into her operatic introduction. After another moment of quiet Baatar and P’Li start in with their lead and rhythm guitar and Ghazan follows with his bass and Ming with her drums. The orchestra doesn’t begin until the chorus.

The set itself is a chaotic flurry of moving cogs, wheels, and spokes. A fully functioning and whirring machine that spits smoke and sparks at designated intervals. It doesn’t take on a particular shape, it is more or less a collection of clanging parts that look aesthetically pleasing.

The crowd is hyper with an energetic buzz that they had lacked since Baatar’s near departure. Kuvira grins at the crowd. Their first song comes to a close and her nervousness give way to exilheration. “It’s wonderful to be here again.” Kuvira leaves a pause for applause. “How long has it been, Baatar?”

“Ten years.” He replies.

“Ten years.” Kuvira repeats. “Ten years since we first came here. We were just a rookie group.” She runs her fingers through her hair. “Raava, I didn’t expect us to get this far.” The smile doesn’t leave her face. Because she has made it, they have made it. She wishes that her childhood self--even her teenage self--could see her. “For a second I thought that…”

Baatar rubs her back. “But we have. And of course we have the lot of you to thank for giving us enough attention to land a spot here.”

“And for supporting us despite our…” she considers her words. “Our mishap.”

The crowd gives another uniformed cheer.

“You guys kick ass!” P’Li announces.

Ghazan pulls out another bottle. “If you got a drink, you better drink with us. Most of us anyways, Kuvira still isn’t invited.”

This time the crowd gives a few light-hearted boo’s.

“Pregnant.” Ming points out.

Another round of cheering. “Congratulations!” She can’t place where in the crowd the booming voice has come from. Kuvira gives a soft laugh, looking down to cover a light blush, and wipes some locks out of her face. “Thank you.”

Ghazan finishes his toast and they enter their second song. She scans the crowd for the frontman of Wan Shi Tong’s Waltz. It sends a pleasant trill up and down her spine to see the man nodding his approval at their new take on jazz. It is surreal to have her idol staring up at her with approval.

She unravels her braid and tosses her head back for the final note.

She doesn’t think too much of it, moving into their final song just feels so natural. She may not be able to dance with her baby bump in the way, but she can still give the crowd a show. She puts extra care into her vocals; working with flawlessly through more difficult vibratos.

She adds a flare of metalbending from shifting platforms up and down for she and her bandmates to stand upon to crafting herself a case of stairs to lean on when the baby started acting up.

Normally with a crowd so energetic and lively she would enter it. But her management and doctors had advised against so she leaves that to Ghazan and P’Li, settling for simply brushing fingers with front row attendees.

Ghazan and P’Li finish out the song from within the crowd. The last note echos about the venue only to be swallowed up by cheering and hollering. Kuvira is grinning rather uncontrollably. Perhaps even laughing. One hand falls to her baby bump and the other holds her microphone to her lips. She manages a few thank you’s before they are motioned off of the stage.

They have made it.

Victory or none, they have left an impression.

#Avatar #Legend Of Korra #Kuvira #Azula #Baatar #Zuko #P'Li #TyLee #Ming-Hua #Mai #Ghazan #Fanfiction

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lykegenia · 5 years

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The Things We Hide Ch. 24

Chapter 1 on AO3 This chapter on AO3 Masterpost here

The arrival of the Kyoshi Warriors at the Northern Air Temple caused a stir long before they crested the path mounted on a flock of dusty, footsore ostrich-horses. Fresh from victory in the southern Earth Kingdom, they brought a sense of hope with them that the rebellion was finally gaining ground against Ozai, but it mingled with the same weariness that was starting to infect the rest of the troops, because only three of them made up the party - the rest were still mired in the countryside, fighting, and could not be spared. That even three came told the guards watching them ride into the courtyard that something was going on, some new plan that might see the end of the war. Just as well. There were rumours that the Water Tribe was readying itself to pull its forces, to better consolidate their defences and prepare for the Fire Nation’s inevitable spring offensive.

Sokka waited in front of the main doors to greet the three warriors as they arrived, arrayed in the ceremonial armour that marked his rank as the General of the Third Fleet, and betraying the air of solemnity he was trying for by bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet.

“Suki!” he cried when the Kyoshi leader dismounted and he could no longer contain himself. He rushed forward and gathered her into a hug. She returned it, squeezing so hard his lungs constricted, even under all the layers of padding.

“Hello you,” she murmured into his shoulder. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise.” He cleared his throat and pulled out of the embrace, squashing down all the feelings trying to spill from his mouth. ”Commander, on behalf of Grand Master Iroh, welcome to the Northern Air Temple. Once you’ve rested, he would like to see you as soon as possible.”

Suki nodded. “Of course, General.”

“This way.”

He glanced at her sidelong as he led the way through the now-familiar corridors of the temple, with her two fellow warriors following at a polite distance. She limped, and favoured her left side, and beneath the perfect lines of her warpaint a slight pinch at the corner of her mouth betrayed her otherwise calm expression. He would have to ask Katara to check in on her later for some healing.

“How are things?” he ventured when the silence stretched too far for his liking.

“Terrible.” She grimaced. “The Fire Nation commander started using prisoners as battle fodder. She has their families working in factories under guard, with the threat that they’ll be killed if their loved ones don’t fight. The royal forces are almost as bad. The requisition gangs sent into the countryside are little more than bandits – they take everything from the peasants, and we spend half our time trying to stop them. If something isn’t done soon there won’t be anything left to fight over.”

“I’m sure there’s a plan,” Sokka reassured. “The grand master knows none of us can hold out much longer.”

“How are your people?” Suki asked.

“They know how to survive on the ice, even without waterbenders, but many won’t make it, and when the spring comes they’ll have no defence against the Fire Navy. This is you,” he added, as they stopped outside an ornately painted archway. “You’ve got bedrooms and a living area, and you’re free to go anywhere in the compound. If you get lost there’s always someone to ask for directions.”

Suki nodded to her warriors to send them ahead, but hung back, rubbing at a knot in her shoulder. “I should go straight to the grand master, get everything straightened out.”

“No you don’t,” Sokka replied. He stretched his hand out for her arm. “We’ve waited this long for a plan, we can wait another hour for you to catch your breath.”

For an instant, Suki looked like she would argue, but then her shoulders slumped and she huffed a sigh that ended in a tired chuckle. ”And when did you become so serious, General?” she asked.

Startled by the sudden teasing lilt in her voice, Sokka rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “Well, uh...”

“And come to think of it, when is it the duty of a general to escort visitors to their rooms?”

“Maybe I just wanted an excuse to talk to you,” he replied, smirking. “And I wanted to ask you... uh, do you want to do something later? I have something to talk to you about.”

“Alright, mystery man,” came the reply. Stifling a giggle, she leaned up on tiptoe and pressed a brief kiss against his lips, then smiled wider at the impression of red paint left behind. “I’ll see you after the debrief.

With a final wave, she retreated into the apartment, leaving Sokka standing in the corridor, face split in a broad, slightly dazed smile. He fumbled in a fold of his tunic and pulled out a small disc attached by tiny threads to a band of woven leather dyed black with maple acorns. The colour might not be traditional, but the images on the betrothal necklace, carved around the tooth of a vanquished unagi, illustrated stories as old as the ice – he had whittled what felt like half a forest trying to get them right – and when he presented it to Suki later he hoped she’d stick around long enough to let him tell her what they meant. He had duties to see to before then, things to distract him from over-worrying about the details of his plan, so he wound the leather cord around the tooth and tucked it away again, already turning his mind to the next problem of his day.

Zuko stepped out into his path.

“Gah!”

The fire prince’s scowl, impressive as it already was, deepened. In the past few days, the healers taking care of his face had declared the wound healed enough to take off the bandage, and the exposed scar, wrinkled and puckered with livid pink flesh, gave him a foreboding, uneven appearance. He had been allowed free rein around the temple by the grand master – some complicated family relation Katara had only half managed to explain – but other than Aang and Haru, nobody had made any particular effort to be friendly. He hadn’t tried very hard to be friendly back, either.

“Do you mind not sneaking up on people?” Sokka demanded now, as the prince’s arms folded across his chest. “Spirits, I know you’re Fire Nation, but there’s no way you’re being this creepy by accident.”

Zuko’s lips thinned. “I didn’t know the Southern Water Tribe was polygamous.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Maybe it’s just you, then,” the prince pressed. “How many women are you stringing along?”

“Keep your voice down,” Sokka snapped, with an uneasy glance towards the Kyoshi warriors’ quarters. “And I’ll repeat – what are you talking about? I’m not stringing Suki along.”

“I’m not talking about her.”

“Now I’m completely lost.”

“Katara,” the prince ground out. “She cares about you.”

Still confused, Sokka shook his head. “Well of course she does,” he tried. “I mean, I know I used to put seaweed in her hair but I’m sure she’s forgiven me for...”

The pieces clicked. He burst out laughing.

“I wouldn’t say this was funny,” Zuko growled, drawing himself up. “It’s dishonourable to toy with her feelings –”

“I’m not –” Sokka wheezed. “I’m definitely not – ew.” He held up a placating hand, doubling over to catch his breath. “Dude, katara is my sister.”

“Sister?” the prince repeated weakly.

“I don’t know what it’s like where you’re from, with all those fancy nobles, but in the Water Tribe sibling relationships are not like that.”

Zuko seemed to be barely listening. His gaze, so sharp before, softened as he turned his mind to this new puzzle. “She’s your sister...”

The change in tone was not lost on Sokka. “Why do you care, anyway?” he asked, stepping closer. “From what I’ve seen you two pretty much hate each other.”

“I don’t care,” came the snapped reply. “And if she’s your sister it’s a moot point anyway.”

But Sokka noticed the uncomfortable shift of the prince’s shoulders, and the way his arms folded across his chest. He narrowed his eyes. “You know,” he ventured, “She’s never told me what happened while you were holding her hostage.”

Zuko looked up sharply, as if to contradict the phrasing, but there was too much truth in it to be denied.

“Sometimes she gets this look in her eye, like she misses it, but she never says anything.”

“She was only there as a spy.”

“Riiiiiight.” Sokka shrugged, and in a flash of compassion, pointed at the scar. “You know she can heal that, right? You should let her.”

Zuko only glared at him as he turned and headed to find his lieutenant.

“Master Katara, do you know who disfigured my nephew?”

Iroh peered at the young waterbender over the rim of his teacup, his brown eyes sharp and clear despite the rheumy edge around his irises. It was not the first time the pair had spoken in confidence; they shared an appreciation of the arts, which was a rarity in such a remote part of the world, and though Katara might not admit it to anyone else, spending an hour or so with someone who did not hold the Fire Nation in complete contempt was an outlet she sorely needed. This, however, was the first time they had spoken since Zuko’s arrival.

“I can imagine who did it,” she growled. “But even I didn’t think he was capable of something that cruel.”

“Are you truly surprised?” Iroh asked. “After everything my brother has done, or has ordered done, what is one more victim?”

“But he’s his son!” She tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear and stared down into her cup. “I can understand him punishing Zuko for being the Blue Spirit, and spirits, even exiling him makes sense in a way, but that burn was deliberate, to the bone. I know he’s your brother but Ozai is a monster.”

Iroh hummed. “And this might be his final mistake.”

When Katara looked up, scowling at the idea that Zuko’s scar might be nothing more than a tactical advantage, he held up his hands to forestall the accusation. With a grunt, he rose from his seat and paced to the window, and looked out over the barren collection of pale spires and halls that had once housed an entire people. His joints creaked as he sighed.

“You must understand, the Fire Lord is a man who mistakes fear for respect. Where respect flourishes like a tree given care and allowed to grow, fear is like water boiling in a lidded pot that will eventually either spill over or be entirely consumed. People cannot live on fear, they get used to it, and so tyrants like my brother must escalate their actions again and again to maintain what they see as control.”

“But that only works so far,” she finished for him. “There’s a point where people won’t take anymore, and they’ll fight back.”

The old man nodded. “An equilibrium, where the consequences of not fighting are worse than the fear of punishment. By burning Zuko’s face, the Fire lord proved he is incapable of any mercy, and that will make them restless for a new voice.”

“You want Zuko to be that voice,” she guessed. “He won’t do it. He’s too hung up on regaining his honour – he thinks Ozai is right.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Iroh replied gently. “He has suffered greatly, and been thrown from everything he has ever known.”

Katara bit her lip, stifling the desire to argue; the old resentment was still there, the disgust drawn from the comparison between her own people, who had suffered so much, and the Fire Nation nobility laughing in a perfumed garden while they sent their soldiers to die for almost no reason at all. It no longer lanced so deeply, however. Her mind drifted back to those times Zuko had been kind, had shielded her from his sister, and had spared the war veteran punishment because she asked it of him. She had kissed him first during that thunderstorm because he had worried about her, and on that last terrible night he had unmasked himself because he refused to hide his true motives from her.

That part still left her confused, angry, wondering how differently the past few months might have gone if they had trusted just a little more and revealed themselves – would he have turned her over, or could they have found a way to work together and make things better for both their peoples? Not that it mattered now; Zuko hated her.

“If you’re hoping to turn him into some kind of rallying point to stand against his father, I don’t think he’ll be very cooperative,” she huffed. “You’ll have to come up with another plan.”

“No. You know as well as anyone, I think, that the best hope for lasting peace is to break the cycle of violence.” Shaking his head, he returned from the window. “If the Earth Kingdom or Water Tribe conquers the Fire Nation, then it will just be another invading army, another imbalance of power to be exploited. Even if I go, the world will see it as nothing more than a jealous struggle for the throne. Zuko, fighting alongside the avatar, is the only one who can overthrow Ozai without appearing self-interested.”

“Only if you can make him agree to do it.”

Iroh didn’t reply. He merely looked at her over the rim of his teacup, his gaze patient as an owl-fox, and her stomach sank into the floor as she realised just what he intended to do.

#zutara #zuko #katara #zuko x katara #katara x zuko #avatar: the last airbender #a:tla #suki #sokai #uncle iroh

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