nsfw [18+] warnings! soft dom Jude, praise, intimate, side position
summary, Jude can’t get enough of you and so it’s no surprise when he wakes up your the first thing on his mind. Soft mornings, slow touches, sleepy whispers. He holds you like you’re everything, and in that moment, you are.
The first thing you noticed was warmth.
Not just the sun bleeding in through the gauzy curtains, but him. Jude was pressed behind you, one arm curled around your waist, chest flush against your back. His body a soft wall of muscle, his breath brushing the nape of your neck.
You smiled before even opening your eyes, instinctively nestling closer. You could feel his heartbeat slow and steady, and the way his fingers had wandered in his sleep, now resting low on your belly, just under the hem of your shirt.
You heard him shift slightly, the beginnings of a hum vibrating in his chest. His lips brushed your shoulder.
“Mm… morning, baby,” he murmured, voice still hoarse and sleep-heavy.
“Morning,” you whispered, not even trying to hide the smile in your voice.
Neither of you moved for a moment.
You felt the way he inhaled deeply, pressing his nose to your shoulder and kissing the bare skin there. One kiss, then another. And another. Slow and aimless, like he had nowhere else to be but wrapped around you.
His hand wandered again, splaying across your stomach and stroking down, over your hip. His fingers traced lazy, absentminded patterns into your skin, but his touch lingered, intentional. You felt him harden slightly behind you.
“You feel so good in the mornings,” he said softly, lips ghosting your ear. “So warm. So soft.”
Your breath hitched as he gently nudged your thighs apart, opening you up just a little more, letting his hand slide between your legs with careful reverence.
“Jude…”
“Shh,” he cooed, already stroking you through your panties with feather-light touches. “I’ve got you. Let me take care of you, baby.”
His voice always did something to you in the mornings , gravelly, deep, laced with affection. And his hands… God, his hands were magic. Slow and unhurried, he mapped you with his fingers like he was trying to memorize you all over again.
“I love touching you,” he murmured, voice reverent. “Every part of you. Every inch.”
You gasped softly as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, tugging them down slowly, brushing his knuckles against your bare skin as he did.
“Can I?” he asked gently, already nudging the tip of his cock against your folds. His hand was stroking up your waist now, thumb brushing under your breast.
You nodded, already aching for him, your hips shifting back against his.
“Please.”
He groaned at that, quiet, deep in his throat, and you felt him line up behind you. He kissed your shoulder, then your neck, then your temple.
And then he pushed in.
You both exhaled at the same time, a shared breath, like you were made for this. He filled you slowly, carefully, one hand gripping your hip to keep you steady as he slid all the way in.
“Fuck,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to your shoulder blade. “You’re always so perfect. So wet for me, baby…”
Your fingers curled into the sheets. The stretch burned in the best way, and the angle, from the side, your back pressed to his chest, let you feel all of him.
His hand slid down to hold your thigh again, lifting it slightly to open you up more as he started to move. Each thrust was deep and deliberate, hips rolling in a slow rhythm. The kind that made your toes curl and your breath catch.
You could feel every inch of him. Every soft exhale. Every whisper against your skin.
“You feel that?” he murmured, moving his hand to your lower stomach, pressing just enough for you to feel where he was inside you. “Right here, baby… I’m so deep in you.”
You whimpered, pressing your face into the pillow.
He kissed the back of your neck, slow and sweet. “You take me so well. Always so good for me.”
His hand drifted upward again, cupping your breast now, thumb brushing softly over your nipple. His other hand stayed curled under your neck, holding you close like he needed to anchor himself to you.
You reached back, fingers tangling in his hair as you moaned, arching against him. He was still moving, long, deep strokes, hips flush to yours each time.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he said, kissing behind your ear. “I wish you could see yourself — the way you look when I’m inside you. When you’re falling apart.”
You trembled, the pleasure building slowly and steadily, wrapping around your spine and sparking in every nerve. He was so gentle with you, every touch full of devotion, like he couldn’t get enough.
“I love waking you up like this,” he whispered, nose buried in your hair. “Love being the first thing you feel in the morning.”
You moaned softly, hips rocking back against him now.
“I’m close,” you breathed, voice shaking. “Jude, I’m—”
“I know, baby,” he soothed, his thrusts getting a little deeper, a little more focused. “Let go for me. I’ve got you.”
He reached down, fingers circling your clit now, expertly guiding you there.
“Come for me, sweet girl.”
You shattered with a soft cry, back arching, his name on your lips. He held you through it, murmuring sweet praise into your skin “That’s it, baby,” and “So fucking good,” and “I love you like this.”
He chased his own release after that, thrusts becoming just a little rougher, breathing ragged now. His hand gripped your waist, and he kissed your shoulder again, lips trembling against your skin.
“Fuck—fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, and then he came, buried deep, holding you as if you’d disappear otherwise.
The room fell into silence after. Heavy breathing. A lazy sunrise peeking through the window. Jude’s arms wrapped tight around you.
He didn’t pull out right away. Just held you there, your bodies still connected, his nose brushing your shoulder.
“You alright?” he asked, softer now. Barely a whisper.
You nodded, a blissful haze still clinging to your body. “Yeah. More than alright.”
He kissed your temple. “Didn’t mean to wake you up like that…”
You looked back at him over your shoulder. “You really think I’m complaining?”
His smile was sleepy, crooked, and gorgeous. “Didn’t think so.”
He finally pulled out slowly, carefully, and reached over you to grab the blanket, tucking it around your body again before settling back in behind you.
His arm draped across your waist, fingers drawing gentle shapes into your skin.
“You’re everything, you know that?” he whispered against your shoulder. “Everything to me.”
You smiled, heart fluttering. “I know.”
He kissed you again, just one last soft kiss against your spine, and pulled you even closer.
After being excluded by your coworkers, Vi reminds you you’re never alone.
The sound of an engine dying announces that Vi is back. You hear the door open, and a second later, her heavy boots echo down the hallway.
“Hey, sweetheart, I’m home,” she calls, voice low and rough, dragging her boots toward the kitchen.
She finds you standing at the stove, apron tied around your waist and an expression that tries to look neutral, but fails. You stir the sauce absentmindedly, shoulders tense. Vi notices immediately.
“Hey,” she murmurs, dropping her keys on the table and stepping up behind you. “What’s with that face, hmm?”
Her arms slip around your waist, warm and solid. Her chin rests on your shoulder as she presses a soft kiss just behind your ear.
“Nothing,” you say, eyes still on the pot.
“‘Nothing,’ huh?” Vi repeats, half teasing, half tender. “Every time you say ‘nothing,’ it means something.”
“It’s really not important.”
Vi sighs and gently turns you around so she can look at you. Her hair’s a mess, her cheeks smudged with grease, and still, her eyes feel like home.
“Look,” she says. “If you tell me something hurts, I’ll take you to a doctor. If someone hurt you, I’ll go break their face. But if you don’t tell me anything, I’ll spend all night trying to guess.”
That earns her a small smile, barely there, but real. Vi catches it and kisses your forehead.
“Come on, tell me, babe.”
“It’s just…” you hesitate, glancing down. “The girls from work went out shopping today. All of them. They didn’t invite me. I found out because they posted pictures.”
Vi goes quiet for a moment. She doesn’t laugh, doesn’t get angry. She just looks at you, eyes soft and sad.
“Oh, sweetheart…” she murmurs, brushing her thumb along your cheek. “I’m sorry.”
“I know it sounds dumb, but it made me feel bad. Like I don’t fit in.”
“It doesn’t sound dumb,” Vi says firmly. “Nobody likes feeling left out.”
You hug her, and Vi pulls you tight against her chest. She smells like metal and motor oil, and somehow, it’s the most comforting scent in the world. Her hand slides through your hair as she murmurs:
“They’re the ones missing out, you know? If they can’t see how amazing you are, they don’t deserve your time.”
“Thanks, love.”
“Nah,” she says with that trademark grin of hers. “Thank you for letting me hold you like this—smelling this good, cooking like heaven itself got hungry.”
You laugh through the tears, burying your face in her neck. Vi lifts you off the ground just enough to spin you around, only to see you smiling again.
“How about we leave dinner for another time?” Vi taps your nose playfully. “Go get dressed. I’m taking you to your favorite restaurant.”
“Just like that? Out of nowhere?”
“Exactly like that.” She winks. “No way I’m letting you go to bed sad.”
You try to protest, but Vi’s already nudging you toward the bedroom.
“And wear that blue dress I like, the one that makes me forget how to speak.”
“The one you said should come with a warning label?”
“That’s the one.” Vi chuckles. “I want the world to see how lovely, radiant, beautiful, gorgeous, and hot my wife is.”
Before letting you go, she steals one last kiss, slow, sweet, like a promise.
“I love you, you know that?” she murmurs against your lips.
“Yeah. But say it again.”
“I love you, my angel. And tonight, dinner’s on me.”
He told himself that as he stood in the doorway, arms crossed, staring at the absolutely ridiculous sight in front of him.
You....his wonderful, beautiful wife was lounging comfortably on the bed, wrapped in one of his robes, the fabric slipping just enough to show soft skin and curves he knew very well……and right in the center of your chest laid...
Momo.
Curled up like he paid rent.
Aang blinked slowly. "That’s my spot, Momo.”
Momo didn’t even look at him.
The little traitor just snuggled in deeper, tail flicking lazily as if to say no, actually, this is mine now.
You bit back a smile, glancing over at Aang. “He was here first.”
Aang scoffed, already walking over. “That doesn’t make it legal.”He reached out, trying to gently scoop Momo up.
Chomp.
Aang jerked his hand back instantly. “Ow—!”
Momo hissed, tiny fangs bared, before settling right back into your chest like nothing happened.
You laughed.Actually laughed because how could you not laugh at something like this.
Aang stared at you, offended. “Did you just see that?! He bit the Avatar!”
“He defended his territory,” you said sweetly.
Aang stared at you for a long second. Then, dramatically, he flopped down beside you with a heavy sigh, resting his head on your stomach instead.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered.
Momo’s tail immediately started swishing.
Right into Aang’s head.
Smack.
Aang froze.
Smack.
He looked up slowly, eyes narrowing. “…He’s doing that on purpose.”
You were absolutely no help, trying and failing not to laugh as Momo continued flicking his tail, each hit perfectly aimed.
Smack.
Aang sat up. “That’s it.”
Before you could stop him, a soft burst of air slipped from his fingers, controlled, precise and suddenly Momo was gently lifted off you, tumbling through the air with an indignant screech as he glided across the room and landed in his little cat hut.
“MEHHH!!”
You gasped. “Aang!”
“He’s fine,” Aang said immediately, brushing his hands off like he’d just handled a minor inconvenience.
Momo screeched again from his hut, clearly offended.
You crossed your arms. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
Aang turned back to you, completely unapologetic and without hesitation, climbed over you, settling right between your legs before lowering himself down.
And then he buried his face right between your breasts.A soft, content exhale left him immediately, smile on his face.
“There,” he muttered. “Much better.”
You blinked. “…Wow.”
His arms wrapped loosely around your waist, holding you in place as he nuzzled slightly, clearly claiming his victory.
“Jealous Avatar,” you muttered under your breath.
“I am not jealous,” he said, voice muffled.
You raised a brow. “You airbent a lemur across the room.”
“He started it.”
From across the room Momo screeched again.
“MEHHHH!!”
Aang didn’t even lift his head. “He knows what he did.”
You laughed, shaking your head as your fingers slid into his skin, tracing the arrow for a moment before, resting there gently.
Aang hummed softly against you, completely relaxed now, like nothing had happened.
Like he hadn’t just declared war on a flying lemur for your attention.
“…You’re ridiculous,” you said fondly.
He smiled, still hidden, still stubborn, still right where he wanted to be.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “But I’m your ridiculous.”
Aang didn’t move right away.
Not when you called him ridiculous. Not when Momo kept screeching from across the room like a tiny, furious gremlin.
He was far too comfortable.
Curled against you, arms loosely wrapped around your waist, his face still buried between your soft breasts like he’d just won something important.
You felt him shift slightly then the press of his lips, warm and slow against your chest.
A soft, lingering kiss.Then another.
“All mine now,” he murmured, voice low and satisfied, like he was staking a claim he had no intention of giving up.
You huffed a quiet laugh, fingers sliding into his skin. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I had to fight for it,” he muttered. “That lemur plays dirty.”
As if summoned by the insult and sheer pettiness.
“MEHHH!”
You barely had time to react before a blur of gray and white launched across the room.
Aang didn’t even lift his head at first. “Momo, don’t—”
Too late.
The lemur landed squarely on Aang’s head with a triumphant chirp, tiny hands gripping his skin as his tail flicked dramatically.
Aang went completely still. “…You’ve got to be kidding me.”
You burst out laughing.
Momo chirped again, loud, proud, completely unbothered as he settled in like he had just reclaimed his throne.
Aang slowly lifted his head, glaring upward. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
Momo chirped again.
Smug.
You were still laughing when Aang carefully reached up, trying to grab him only for Momo to hop just out of reach, still perched, still defiant.
Aang groaned, dropping his head back down onto your chest again in defeat. “This is harassment,” he muttered.
You smiled, running your fingers gently over his scalp careful to avoid Momo’s tiny feet.
“Jealous Avatar,” you teased.
“I’m not jealous,” he insisted immediately.
Momo’s tail smacked his forehead.
Smack.
Aang’s eye twitched. “…I’m slightly jealous.”
You laughed again, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of his head right next to where Momo was perched like a tiny, victorious king.
And despite everything, Aang didn’t move.Didn’t fight it.
Just stayed there, arms around you, grumbling under his breath while Momo chirped happily above him.
SUMMARY: You were born a non-bender, but Aang tries to make you feel included.
WARNING(S): fluff, angst
WORD COUNT: 5,197
PAIRING: Adult!Aang x reader
A/N: Hope you like it! Comments and feedback are always welcome.
MASTERLIST
The first time Aang got you out of the house to teach you, he was all smiles.
Bright and hopeful, excited to share something that mattered to him. You don’t think you’d ever seen him look that happy, especially by the fourth attempt.
Airbending.
The others thought you might pick something up eventually. Water, earth, maybe even fire, but nothing ever came of it. And deep down, you knew nothing ever would.
You weren’t a bender.
You weren’t going to wake up one day and move the ground beneath your feet, or shift water with your hands, or throw fire. It wasn’t something you could learn. It wasn’t something anyone could promise you. You weren't born to be able to bend.
But Aang didn’t let it go.
And you didn’t have the heart to take that from him, no matter how much it pained you.
So you let him pull you out of the tower you’d been calling home for years now and take you to the Southern Air Temple.
You’d been there before, back when it was you, Katara, and Sokka, following him around while he showed you around. You’d seen far greater things, but the temple in ruins always settled heavily in your heart. It felt different now. More overgrown. Quieter.
Still beautiful though.
And you knew how much it meant to him.
You ran your hand along one of the columns as you walked, the stone cool under your fingers. You wondered if he ever thought about what this place used to be. If being here made it harder or easier.
“Okay,” Aang says, clapping his hands together as he turns to you. “Airbending. My area of expertise.”
His grin widens. And just like that, he looks like himself again.
You cross your arms loosely, raising a brow at him. “Confident?”
He moves past you, then circles back, positioning himself a few feet away. His posture shifts without him thinking about it. He looks lighter on his feet, shoulders relaxed, arms loose at his sides.
“I have to be,” Aang says easily. “I’ve only been doing this my whole life.” He steps back a little, giving you space. “Besides, you've made it through three trials. You haven't given up.”
“Three failures,” you correct.
“Three attempts,” he says, like it matters.
You sigh, finding your sandals more interesting, the dirt beneath them crunching with every press-down you make. You're pulled out of the hole you begin making up in your mind when Aang claps loudly again. The crack had made you flinch.
“Okay! Airbending isn’t about forcing anything,” he starts. “That’s why it’s hard to explain. You don’t grab it like the earth beneath your feet, or push it like fire. You… move with it.”
You nod, even if you don’t fully get it.
He gestures for you to stand straighter. “Feet apart. Don't stand too stiffly. You don’t want to lock yourself in place.”
You adjust, trying to copy him.
“Good,” he says. “Now, don’t think about making something happen. Just focus on what’s already there.”
“The air,” you say.
“Yeah.” He gives a small nod. “It’s everywhere. You don’t need to have a source like water or earth. You just… connect to it.”
You take a breath, slower this time.
Behind him, the wind moves through the open temple, brushing past the columns, slipping through broken archways. You can feel it on your skin, faint but constant.
“Okay,” he says. “Follow me.”
He steps into motion, slow and controlled. His arms move in a wide circle, like he’s tracing something invisible.
You mirror him. At least, you try to. Your movements feel heavier. Less natural. Like you’re thinking about every step instead of letting it happen.
“Loosen up,” he says gently. “You’re resisting it.”
“I’m not trying to,” you mutter.
“I know...”
You exhale, forcing yourself to relax your shoulders. Your arms follow his again, slower this time, less rigid. You shift, trying to follow what he’s doing again.
“Better?”
“Yeah. That’s good,” he says. “Now just…move your arms. Slow at first.”
You copy him, lifting your hands and pushing them forward in the same motion he just showed you.
Nothing happens.
You try again.
Still nothing.
Aang doesn’t say anything right away. He just watches on, further heightening the fact that you were aware he was observing your every move.
“Try not to think about it too much,” he says after a second.
You let out a small breath. “That’s kind of hard not to, especially when I’m trying to make something happen.”
“I know,” he says. “But if you focus on making it happen, it won’t.”
You glance at him. “That doesn’t sound very helpful.”
He laughs. “It’s true, though. Don’t think on it too much.”
You shake your head a little, but you try again anyway. This time slower.
Less stiff, more loose.
Going with the flow.
For a second, it almost feels right.
Almost.
“Now shift your weight,” he adds. “Don’t stay rooted. Airbenders don’t stand still if they can help it.”
You step lightly to the side, copying the way he moves. He’s already adjusted, already onto the next move before you've barely finished the previous action.
You’re a step behind. Always a step behind. Never able to keep up with the rest of them.
“Okay,” he says. “Now guide it.”
Your arms move through the air, and for a second, you almost think you feel something pulse within your palms.
But it’s gone before you can figure out what it might be.
Probably nothing to be honest.
You drop your hands with a huff. “Yeah. Still nothing.”
Aang steps closer, not an ounce of discouragement on his face. “That’s okay. It takes time. With more practice, you're bound to get something out of it. It gets easier. Trust me.”
“For you maybe,” you say. “You’ve been doing this since you were a kid.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can’t learn something from it.”
You give him a look. “Aang, I can’t move a leaf, I couldn't shift the water from the stream, I couldn't move the stupid pebble that Toph had me attempt to move. Zuko even tried having me light the fire for the camp we set up. We almost froze. I can't move anything!”
“Not yet,” he corrects. Oh, how you wonder where he gets his patience and his calm from? Something you were surely running out of.
You sigh, but there’s no real frustration behind it. Yet, anyway.
He hesitates for a second, then moves behind you. “Can I?” he asks.
You nod. His hands hover near yours before settling lightly over them. Gentle, warm to the touch.
“Let me guide you,” he says.
You feel him push your arms through the same motions as before. Slower this time. More steady.
“Breathe,” he adds quietly. The warmth of his words tickles your ear.
You try to match his pace, his breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.
The air moves around you, brushing past your arms, your face. You can feel the wind, how it responds to him. The subtle breeze he lets swim in and out through your hair.
“Feel that?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
You almost laugh at the sensation, but you keep going. Letting your hands move with his instead of trying to lead on your own.
For a second, the motions feel easier. Like you’re not working as hard to exert them, act them out.
There's barely anything happening. Most of which is done by Aang. But the air in front of your hands stirs.
You pause.
“Did you—”
“I saw it,” Aang says quickly, a little quieter now. “Keep going.”
Your focus breaks.
And just like that, it’s gone. You let your arms fall.
“Of course.” You huff in defeat.
Aang doesn’t move away right away. “You felt it, though, right?” he asks.
“Barely.”
“It’s still something.”
You turn your head slightly, glancing back at him. “It only worked because you were helping. I’m not even sure that was me just now.”
“Maybe,” he says. “Or maybe you just needed to stop trying so hard.”
You don’t answer that.
After a second, his hands drop away from yours. You miss the warmth of them in an instant. The lack of his touch makes you want to pull him close again.
“Do you want to try again?” he asks. Chin dipping to try and get your eyes to meet his own. They don't. He looks down at the ground before waiting for your response.
You look at your hands, then back at him.
“Maybe later, if that’s okay.”
"It's okay. We can take a break."
-
The hill you found and settled on feels nice and cool underneath your touch as the sun dips.
Long shadows stretch across the mountains, swallowing the land around them, making it quieter. Emptier. At peace.
You and Aang sit side by side, and you disturb a patch of grass by pulling grass stems from the ground. You'd guess your anxiety was to blame for impulsively messing with perfectly good grass. Aang had lain back, eyes darting up at the sky. His thoughts wandering, you'd guess as much, seeing as his fingers stopped tapping against his stomach.
For a while, neither of you speaks.
The wind moves gently through the open air, brushing past softly, reminding you of the reason for being there in the first place. You figured Aang could've been reminded of home. Of everything he lost, but who were you to speak for him?
Aang exhales slowly.
“It’s weird,” he says.
You glance at him. “What is?”
He doesn’t look at you. Just out.
“The sky. The temple, all the antiques we keep finding. Everything.”
His fingers curl slightly against the grass as he sits up.
“I used to think the temples would always feel full,” he admits. “Like, no matter what happened… I could come back, and it’d still feel like home. Still… alive.” There’s a pause. “But it only reminds me of how everyone I've ever known...is gone.”
That lands heavier than anything he’s said all day.
You don’t interrupt. You just listen.
“They’re gone,” he continues, voice quieter now. “The monks. My friends. Gyatso. The stories they all used to tell, the way we used to celebrate, the food we would eat… even the stupid games we played.” A soft, broken laugh slips out of him. “I’m the only one left who remembers any of it.”
Your chest tightens.
“I don’t even know if I remember it right anymore.” He finally looks down at his hands. "I keep thinking that if I die, my culture dies with me. What if I forget something important?” he whispers. “What if it all just… disappears with me? No one but me can carry on my past. My whole life rests in my hands.”
There it is. His fear. It hits you harder than you expected. Because for once, this isn’t about being the Avatar.
This is just a boy, a man now, sitting in the ruins of his home, terrified of being the last voice of his people.
You don’t think. You don’t weigh your next words. You just… say it.
“Then I’ll carry it with you.”
Aang freezes.
You don’t stop.
“I’ll learn it,” you add quickly, heart racing now. “All of it. The stories, the traditions... Whatever you remember, I’ll remember too. I won’t let it disappear.”
He’s staring at you now.
Completely still. Like he’s not sure he heard you right.
“And if you’re worried about it ending…” You hesitate, then push through it anyway, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.
“I’ll give you a legacy.”
The silence falls heavily on you both. You look out into the valley, feeling the wind settle.
And the second it leaves your mouth, you second-guess your words.
Oh.
Oh no.
Your breath catches. “I-I didn’t mean—”
Aang’s expression changes.
“You’d… What?” he asks softly.
You shake your head quickly, heat rushing to your face. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just mean, I mean I did, but not—” you let out a nervous breath, stumbling over yourself. “I just meant I’d help. However you needed, I—”
“You’d give me children?” he interrupts.
That stops you. Your mouth opens agape, then shuts.
His voice is so quiet you almost miss it. You look at him properly now. Really take in the man before you. Give him children? You'd be stupid not to want a family with him.
Something in your chest settles warmly.
“Yeah,” you say, softer this time. “If you wanted me to. The only thing I could really give back.” You release a nervous laugh.
Aang’s eyes search yours, like he’s trying to find any sign of hesitation. Doubt. Anything that screamed that you were just trying to make up for what you lacked in, but you weren't
There isn’t any. Because you meant it. Even if you didn’t take into account how much you did until just now.
“You don’t have to do that,” he says, but there’s no strength behind it. No real push. No malice. Just a hint of genuineness.
“I know,” you reply. A beat. “I want to, though.”
That hits him harder than anything else.
You see it in the way his breath stutters slightly, the way his shoulders drop just a fraction, like something inside him is loosening up for the first time all day.
“You’d really…” he starts, then stops, swallowing. “…you’d learn everything?”
You nod. “Everything you’re willing to teach me.”
For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then his hand reaches for yours. Slowly, hesitant. Like he’s still asking permission to touch you, when he has every right to. When you don’t pull away, his fingers tighten slightly around yours.
“That means a lot to me, Y/n,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. "I never even considered the idea of having children right now.
You smile, just a little. “I figured. It looked like your heart stopped for a second there.”
A soft huff of breath leaves him. almost a laugh, but not quite.
The wind returns, gentle once more, curling around the two of you as if it felt the heaviness settle between you. Like it had listened in.
Aang glances down at your joined hands, then back up at you.
For once, he doesn’t try to turn it into a joke right away. He just looks at you.
Like he’s still catching up to what you said and what it means. Not just the words, but the fact that you meant them. That you said them so easily, like it wasn’t something huge you placed in his lap.
It was.
You can tell by the way he keeps holding your hand, squeezing every now and then, like letting go would break up the moment too fast.
“I don’t know what to say,” he admits after a while.
You let out a small breath through your nose. “You don’t have to say anything.”
“I feel like I should.”
“You don’t have to.”
His mouth twitches a little at that, but it fades just as quickly.
“I just…” He looks away for a second, out at the valley below, at the fading light and shadows. “I’ve spent so much time thinking about what I lost that I never really thought about what could still happen. What I could still have.”
Your thumb brushes lightly over his knuckles before you can think better of it. Aang notices. His shoulders loosen again, but not enough.
“You make it sound simple,” he says.
“It’s not simple.”
This turns his attention back on you.
“It’s just not impossible either,” you say quietly. “There’s a difference.”
He studies your face for a second, and you can almost see the thoughts moving behind his eyes. Aang was never very good at hiding what he felt, but this is different. He's less open. More careful. Like he’s afraid of letting this conversation go in the wrong direction. Of making you angry.
“You'd really give me children?” he asks again.
Not because he didn’t hear you the first time. Because he needs to.
You nod once. “Yeah.”
“And learn all of it?”
“Yes.”
“The stories, the customs, the food, the prayers, the weird games—”
You smile a little. “You’re really trying to sell it now.”
That earns a breath of a laugh. Then he goes quiet again.
“Even if you can’t bend?”
There it is. You had a feeling it would come back to that.
You look down at your lap for a second before answering.
“Especially then.”
Aang frowns. You take a breath.
“I can’t give back from the lack of bending,” you say. “I know that. I know I’ll never be part of your culture in the same way you were born into it.” You pause, picking at a blade of grass near your knee. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t love it because it matters to you. It doesn’t mean I can’t help keep it alive. This could be one of the only things I can give back.”
His face changes at that. Softens. Something about those words gets through to him in a way the other words of the gang couldn't. Maybe it's because he knows you’re not saying it to make him feel better.
You’re saying it because you’ve already decided.
“I don’t want you to think this is all you’re good for,” he says after a moment.
You look at him, caught a little off guard.
“What?”
He turns toward you more fully now, his hand tightening around yours.
“The only thing you could really give back?” he repeats softly, using your own words. “Don’t say it like that.”
Heat crawls up your neck in half embarrassment, and half of something else.
“I just meant—”
“I know what you meant.” His voice stays gentle, but there’s something firmer in it now. “But you make it sound like you have to make up for something.”
You open your mouth, then close it. Because there isn’t a clean lie waiting to spill past your lips. Aang notices that too.
“You don’t owe me a legacy,” he says. “And you don’t owe me children just because you can’t bend.”
Your throat tightens a little.
“I know,” you say, but it comes out softer than you intended.
He watches you for another second, then shifts closer, close enough that your heads are leaning against each other.
“You don’t have to try and even the score for what you think you're lacking in,” he says. “Not for me.”
His words land hard. Too hard.
Because some part of you had thought exactly that, even if you didn’t want to say it out loud. That if you could never stand beside the others in the way they did, through bending, through power, through something useful, then maybe you could still give him something that mattered.
Something lasting.
You stare down at your lap for a second, blinking against the sting behind your eyes.
“I didn’t mean for it to sound like that,” you say quietly. “I’m not trying to make up with children for my lack of bending with you.”
“I know.” He says it immediately. Reassurance following his understanding. “I know you’re not.”
It helps. His words. A little.
You breathe out slowly.
“I just hate that I can’t help out sometimes,” you admit. "Heck, even Sokka is out there being a hero... But what can I do?"
Aang goes still. Because he finally understands what’s underneath all of the hurt you've bottled up inside of yourself.
The discouragement after every attempt. The way you'd look away from everyone's eyes after every attempt. The way you'd say it’s fine, when it clearly wasn't.
He shifts again, this time dipping his head enough that he can see your face better.
“What can you do?” he repeats quietly. And it's just him, sitting with the question instead of brushing it off.
You don’t answer right away because you’ve already answered it a hundred times in your head. Nothing, was always your response. He frowns as though the crease in your forehead gave you away.
“You think being a hero is just about bending?” he asks.
You give a small shrug. “It helps.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
You glance at him, a little caught. He doesn’t look away.
“You think Sokka is a hero, but he can't bend?” Aang presses.
You hesitate. “Yes, but—”
“But what?”
You sigh, frustrated now. “But he still does things, Aang. He fights. He plans. He actually contributes when something goes wrong.” You shake your head a little. “When things get bad, I’m just… there.”
The words come out flatter than you meant them to. Like you’ve said them before. To yourself. Too many times.
Aang’s expression tightens.
“You’re not ‘just there,’” he says.
You don’t argue. You don’t agree either. You just look away again.
“Do you remember the canyon?” he asks suddenly.
You frown slightly. “What about it?”
“You were the one who figured out how to settle the feud between the Gan Jin and the Zhang tribes,” he says. “You made them work together to get us out of being eaten by those canyon crawlers.”
“Wasn't that you—”
“And the village near the volcano?” he continues. “You were the one who convinced the villagers that they needed to evacuate.”
You shake your head. “That’s not—”
“And when Appa got hurt,” he adds, quieter now, “you stayed with him the whole night. You looked over him, you lost sleep over it too.”
You go still because you do remember that memory.
You remember thinking it didn’t count. That it wasn’t enough.
“That’s not fighting, though,” you say, softer now.
“No,” Aang agrees. “It’s not.”
He leans in just slightly, not crowding you, just enough that you can’t ignore him.
“But it’s helping.”
You swallow.
“It’s paying attention,” he continues. “It’s seeing things the rest of us miss because we’re too busy trying to win something.”
His voice softens. “And it matters.”
You look at him again because he’s not trying to make you feel better.
He’s not reaching just to say something nice. He means it.
“But when something actually happens—” you start.
“You’re there,” he says, cutting in gently this time. “You don’t run. You don’t hide. You stay.”
Your chest tightens.
“That’s not nothing.”
The wind shifts around you again. You look down at your interlocked hands.
“It doesn’t feel like enough sometimes,” you admit.
Aang nods. “I know.”
That catches you off guard.
“I get that, trust me,” he adds. “I’ve felt that too.”
You blink at him. “You?”
“Yeah.” A small, almost self-conscious smile tugs at his mouth. “Being the Avatar doesn’t automatically make you feel invincible.”
You let out a quiet breath. That… comforts you more than you expected it to.
Aang studies your face for another second, then reaches out again. This time, slower, more deliberate, as he nudges your right cheek with his left hand, before pressing a gentle kiss on it. You don’t pull away.
“I'm sorry if we made you feel that way. You don’t have to be like the rest of us to matter,” he says.
You let that sit. It doesn’t fix everything. But it settles the war that was waged inside you anyway.
“You really believe that?” you ask.
He nods.
“I wouldn’t be sitting here with you if I didn’t.”
That makes you look at him again. A small, uneven smile pulls at your lips.
“You’re really bad at letting people wallow in their self-pity,” you mutter.
He smiles back, softer now. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ve been told that.”
You huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head.
"Why do you keep talking like bending is the only part worth carrying on?”
That shuts you up again.
He’s not angry. If anything, he sounds a little sad. A little frustrated that you still can’t see what he’s trying to tell you.
“My people weren’t just airbenders,” he says. “They were monks, teachers, healers. They made toys for kids and baked fruit pies and played games and told stories they’d told a hundred times before.” A small smile pulls at his mouth. “They were annoying sometimes. And stubborn. And really nosy.”
A laugh slips out of you before you can stop it. Aang smiles a little wider when he hears it.
“My culture didn’t live in bending alone,” he says. “It lived in how we treated people. What we believed. How we lived.”
He looks down at your joined hands. “And you’ve been trying to understand that part of me since the day we met.”
Your heart settles.
“So no,” he says softly. “You wouldn’t be giving me the only thing you could offer.”
You swallow.
“Aang…”
“You’d just be giving me more of you.”
His words are so simple they almost hurt. You don’t know what to do with them. So for a second, you do nothing. Then your hand tightens around his. His eyes flick down to it, then back to your face.
You shake your head a little, a laugh leaving you, thin and shaky. “You always know how to make me feel stupid in the nicest way possible.”
That finally gets a real laugh out of him.
“You’re not stupid.”
“Mm.”
“You’re not.” He presses firmly, gently.
You look over at him. “I heard you the first time.”
“Good.”
The breeze picks up around the two of you, cooler now that the sun has dropped. It lifts a few strands of your hair and brushes the fabric on his sleeves.
Aang leans back on one hand, still facing you.
“I think I’d like that,” he says after a while.
You blink. “What part?”
He smiles, small and careful. A beat. “All of it.”
Something in you eases. Not all the way, but enough to let you breathe easier.
“Even if I can't bend?”
He tilts his head, brows furrowing in feigned shock. “You can't bend!”
You let out an offended noise and shove at his shoulder.
He laughs, catching your wrist before you can do it again.
“I’m kidding,” he says.
“You’re not.”
“Okay, maybe a little.”
You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling a lot brighter now, and he is too, and the heaviness from a minute ago doesn’t feel quite so sharp in your chest.
He keeps hold of your wrist for a second longer than he needs to. Long enough for the mood to shift again. Just slightly.
His smile fades first, not into sadness, but something more aware. Serious. You felt it too. The tension.
The way he raised his hand and his thumb brushed once, almost absentmindedly, over the side of your face.
“Aang,” you say softly.
His eyes avert from your lips, falling on your softening gaze.
You lost your train of thought, the words you wanted to say falling off the tip of your tongue. Maybe it was nothing. His name just felt easier than everything else sitting between you.
His eyes search your face anyway.
“Yeah?”
You shake your head, but not because you want to take it back.
“Nothing.”
His mouth curves faintly. “You sure?”
“No.”
He studies you for another moment, then glances out at the valley again.
“You want to stay here tonight,” he says. “If you want, of course.”
You lift a brow. “You mean avoid going back and getting interrogated by Katara?”
“That too.”
You smile. “Tempting.”
“Very. It’s quiet here.”
You look around. The grass. The temple in the far distance, worn down but still standing strong, like Aang.
“It is.”
Aang nods, then looks back at you. Letting the quiet air take over as he took in his favorite view. You. Who went back to pulling at the patch of grass you disrupted, he can't help but let his smile grow.
“I love you.”
There it is again. His plain honesty. It always got the best of you. You feel your face heat up, but there’s no point in pretending you didn't hear him.
“I love you too,” you say, expression timid, but still facing the ground.
His heart beats faster. This was it for him. You were it. All he'd ever want, so long as the universe allowed you and him to last. To be.
His shoulders drop. His mouth softens. He looks younger for a second, and older too. Like the boy and the man he’s still becoming are both sitting right here beside you. Making your head spin and your heart full.
The wind curls between you again. Gentle. Familiar.
And this time, when the silence returns, it doesn’t feel empty.
It feels full.
Aang glances at your joined hands once more, then back at you, his expression almost shy despite everything you’ve just said.
"So you really want children with me?"
"Yes, Aang." Your grin grows as you stifle a laugh.
“Do you want to start...on our legacy?” he asks.
You smile.
“Right now?” you ask.
Aang freezes. “Right now?”
You shrug, biting back another laugh. “You’re the one who asked.”
His brain immediately starts short-circuiting.
“Okay, wait, hold on—” he lets go of your hand just to gesture wildly, before stopping again. “I didn’t mean like right now, right now, I meant like, someday right now. Future right now. Not, this exact moment on a hill—”
You’re fully laughing now.
“Aang—”
“No, because there’s—there’s steps!” he insists, pointing at the ground like the steps might appear if he believes hard enough. “There are definitely steps. We skipped all of them.”
“You asked!”
“I didn’t think you’d say yes that fast!”
You tilt your head. “You wanted me to say no?”
“No!” he says immediately. “No, definitely not that either, just, maybe a warning? A little preparation time?”
You grin. “You’re panicking.”
“I am not panicking,” he says, voice an octave higher than usual. “I am calmly evaluating a very big, important, life thing—”
He stops. Looks at you. You’re still smiling at him like this is the best thing that’s ever happened.
“You’re serious, though,” he says, quieter now.
You nod. “Yeah.”
That does it. He exhales, shoulders dropping, all that frantic energy softening just a little.
“Okay.”
A beat.
“Okay,” he repeats, like he’s trying to convince himself he’s got this.
Then.
“Not right now, though,” he adds quickly.
You laugh. “Not right now.”
“Good,” he says, relieved. “Because I think I’d pass out.”
“You’d pass out?”
“Immediately.”
You bump his shoulder. “Avatar, master of all four elements… defeated by the talk of children.”
He points at you. “You’re the one who started it!”
“You asked!”
“And I regret nothing,” he says quickly, then pauses.
You laugh again, leaning your head against him. He relaxes this time, letting your head rest against his shoulder, still a little flustered but smiling anyway.
“We can start with the easy stuff,” he mutters.
“Like what?”
“Like… teaching you those games I used to play here,” he says. “Much safer.”
"What a strenuous career it is that I've chosen! Day in, day out on the road... and on top of that, there's the curse of traveling, worries about making train connections, bad and irregular food, contact with different people all the time so that you can never get to know anyone or become friendly with them."
OH GOD thank you, i’ve been thinking so much about jamie campbell bower and there was NOTHING in here, now i saw two jamie campbell bower x reader 😭 thank you god for the breadcrumbs lol
dailybridgerton
origamiaround
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