you reunite with AANG years later, only to be absolutely lovestruck by his new appearance. and unfortunately for katara, you decide you want him for yourself.
WHEN DID YOU GET HOT ?!
PLOT. years after the war, you reunite with aang in republic city only to realize the boy you once rejected has become impossible to ignore. completely smitten and regretting your decisions, you notice the tension between him and katara, turning you bitter. after overhearing a conversation you weren't supposed to, you decide that their story was never meant to be. so maybe you should stop pretending you do not want him.
WANRINGS. 18+, mdni, smut, angst, dark themes, slight coercion/dubcon, manipulative reader, slight lovesick reader, baby trapping, slightly naïve aang, toxic relationship dynamics, possessive behavior, mentions of past kataang, alcohol consumption, submissive aang, reader is a horrible friend (don't be like her), fingering, oral sex (m. + f. receiving), unprotected sex, riding him, talking him through it, breeding themes, p in v, pregnancy, marriage, mentions of giving birth, fem reader, self indulgent, not proofread.
CHARACTERS. AVATAR AANG.
WC. 15.5k
masterlist
art creds :: cruxifixe_ on x
a/n: i didn't plan for it to become so dark, but i am not changing the title, idc.
i will probably return to edit it more, but i am so sick of coming across this fic in my drafts.
Oh spirits.
Why did it have to be like this?
The last thing you were expecting during your first visit to Republic City was to get smitten by the literal sight of Aang.
The same Aang who had come barging into the Northern Water Tribe, demanding to be trained in the ways of water.
The same Aang who acted like an idiot around you when you first met him, making you second-guess the universe's choice of the Avatar.
The same Aang who you ended up befriending before his leave, leading you to join him on his journey to master all the elements.
Back then, it had been easy to reject him. Taking his idiotic flirty comments as a joke, declaring that your friendship with him would never grow to be something else.
Hell, you had even gained a thing for Sokka for a while, and not once had you ever thought of Aang as a romantic interest, despite his many 'advances'.
You saw it then, in the way he would seek you out, always hanging around you, asking for your advice on waterbending, even though Katara was right there, the one person who actually knew combat waterbending, unlike you, who could only heal.
So you did your best to push him toward Katara, trying to free yourself from the burden of his feelings.
It had worked.
And how you regretted it.
Because the man who stood before you now, grinning ear to ear at the sight of your arrival, was someone you no longer recognized.
After the war had ended, you returned home to the Northern Water Tribe, where you were praised for your contributions in the war.
Which is why you had taken to teaching the younger female generations the beauty of water, passing down your learnings from Katara and Aang.
The elders had not been too pleased at your notion, but they didn't stop you either, reminding themselves of what Katara had changed within the misogynistic hierarchy of the tribe.
You spent those years teaching, learning, advising, not having much contact with your friends other than the letters you all exchanged.
Katara and Sokka would visit now and then, but the Southern Water Tribe girl stopped once her free time was redirected to developing Republic City. Sokka continued to visit with Suki, mostly to pay respect to a certain moon spirit.
You weren't in touch with Zuko, never having gotten too close with him. And Aang would send you letters more often than you had expected. But even those reduced over the years, only showing up on birthdays.
So now, nine years later, you finally decided to give a visit when you received an invitation from Aang, planning a reunion on the occasion that Republic City was an year old and flourishing.
You had agreed, because you wished to see your only actual friend you had made on your journey.
Toph.
The blind bandit had formed an unusual bond with you, mostly built around constant jokes and taunts towards the rest of the group.
So when you saw Toph upon arriving, you hadn't expected Aang to be standing there beside her with the others, towering over everyone else in his newly acquired form.
You couldn't even think straight as Aang and Katara led everyone to the inn all of you could stay in during your time there. After settling your stuff into your rooms, Aang had taken to showing all of you around.
You heard him for everything he had to say, paying more attention to him than you ever had. Your eyes hadn't left him once, watching him light up every time he spoke, waving his hands around animatedly towards all directions.
Fuck. His hands.
Asking what you would do with them was a stupid question, because what wouldn't you do?
You'd have them pressed to your tits all the time. Those warm hands that have mastered every element to the point of second nature, swirling wind, bending the earth, doing everything imaginable with ease.
How trained he would be with those hands. Maybe he would put his learnings to good use on your pussy, mimicking the elegant motion of his fingers over your clit as he kept you stuffed to the hilt, hopefully using his other hand to clamp your mouth shut.
Maybe he'd even let you take his fingers in your mouth, sucking and drooling around them to divert your attention from the fullness of his cock.
Your thoughts didn't let up even as night fell, by which you had completely soaked through the fabric of your underwear. The group had split up to retire for the night, holding a proper get together party at Katara's home the next evening.
The time before the party had been given to everyone for sight seeing, but you could barely make it out of bed, the previous night spent restless as a certain airbender plagued your mind, making your reach for your pussy for most of it.
What's worse is that you had to keep your moans to the lowest, too scared that Toph might sense you out from wherever her room was in the inn.
You never truly understood the extent of her power, you didn't even know if something like this would even be possible for Toph to sense, but you sure as hell didn't want to take any chances.
Before the get together, you had sat in front of the mirror to gather your thoughts. You had chosen to wear a henley much like what Toph had worn the day before, while beneath it you had put on a rather bold choice.
You had first seen Suki wear a miniskirt during her visit with Sokka at the Northern Water Tribe. Her choice of clothing was something you had questioned, trying to understand why she would wear swimwear while visiting such a cold place.
She had only sighed, explaining to you the growing trends of fashion in the newly developing city.
On her next visit, she had brought you your own.
You never wore it before, given the weather, but you had packed it, figuring the warmer weather of the city would make the skirt more bearable.
Arriving at Katara's home was hell, because not only had Aang opened the door on your arrival, he was bare from the waist up as he did so.
The blood had rushed straight to your cunt, trying not to blatantly look at his abdomen, or the hard planes of his chest.
"Wow, did your clothes run away?" You joked, craning your neck to look him in the eyes, not daring to avert your gaze elsewhere.
"I spilled my drink on it." Aang huffs, pouting a little which only made things worse on your end, wanting to bite his cheeks that puffed out a little.
"You didn't think to Air bend and dry it?" You ask, trying to remain composed even as your breath hitched, walking through the door as you stood close to him.
"That doesn't remove wine stains. Katara threw it in the wash." He answered, walking beside you as he led you to the stairs.
"You're drinking?" Your voice came out shocked.
"I was going to, but then Sokka bumped into me." He sulks yet again.
"I thought...Air Nomads do not drink."
"Well...I don't. But everyone has been asking me to try it once, so I agreed to do it today."
"Looks like I came on time." You tease, trying to meets his eyes but failing when he gave you the cutest smile ever.
You both had made your way upstairs, and you were very aware of just how short your skirt was. You wondered if Aang had looked at your ass as you walked in front of him, or had he diverted his gaze out of respect.
Either option had you pressing your thighs together, not daring to turn your head to see where his eyes lingered.
"Hey! You wore it!" Suki's voice had greeted you the moment you entered the room beside Aang.
She was talking about your skirt.
"Yeah. I have no where else to wear this." You had answered with a smile, looking a the spacious room, a low table in the center with food already set on it.
"It looks great!" Katara compliments you, to which you smile.
"Thanks!"
"Yeah, cute outfit!" Aang chimed in from behind you, making you turn to face him.
"...Thanks Aang." You had tried to keep it in, but your heart had practically leapt out of your chest as his voice.
"You're late!" Toph greeted you in her own manner, making you turn back around and roll your eyes at her.
"Oh! I am so sorry, ma'am."
"You just rolled your eyes, didn't you?" She commented, taking a chug of whatever was in her cup.
"Yep. Proudly too." You retorted with a grin walking towards the group.
Toph had taken one of the shorter ends of the table, sprawling comfortably in her spot while Suki, Sokka, and Katara settled along one of the longer sides.
Across from them sat Zuko with an empty place beside him, which you claimed easily, folding your legs beneath you once you sat down.
And a part of you had hoped Aang would occupy the space that had been left empty on your other side, but you should have known better as you watched him take the opposing end of where Toph sat...right beside Katara.
Well, Zuko was technically also seated beside him, but it barely mattered when you watched Katara subtly close the distance between herself and Aang.
No one would have noticed it unless they had been observing closely.
Which you were.
You watched the two as the conversations picked up again around you, watching how Aang too scooched a little closer to Katara each time she said something.
It made you nauseous.
You had done this. You had practically thrown him into her arms all those years ago, and the karma of it had come to bite you in the ass.
It only made things worse that all you could think about in that situation was how gorgeous his abs were.
You could already imagine how nice they would feel against your cunt, rubbing mindlessly on them as those sinful hands of his would keep you pressed to him, grabbing the flesh of your hips to move you even faster, letting you cum on his skin.
You watched as Aang finally took his first sip of whatever alcohol Sokka had poured for him, observing as he gagged at the taste of it, leading him to have a coughing fit.
While the others chuckled at his antics, Katara reached over to rub slow circles against his back, trying to ease him through the coughing fit.
It made you sick.
The sight of her hands against his bare skin. The ease with which he leaned into her touch, comfortable enough to accept it without thought.
And it only got worse when he turned slightly toward her while thanking her softly.
"Are you alright, Aang?" you asked, hoping to interrupt whatever quiet little moment had begun forming between them.
Aang looked over at you immediately, a sheepish smile pulling onto his face.
"Y-yeah. Just need a m-minute," he managed, his voice still rough from coughing as he tried to steady his breathing.
You simply nodded, masking your satisfaction beneath a look of concern when Aang motioned for Katara to stop, quietly insisting he was alright now. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away and settled back into her place beside him.
It was around 10 minutes later when the effects of whatever amount of alcohol had managed to bypass Aang's throat had started to take effect.
A warm flush spread slowly across his skin, staining not only his cheeks but trailing down the length of his neck and across his chest in soft patches of pink.
You tried not to stare at him.
Without the excuse of him talking animatedly or moving around the room, admiring him so openly would have been far too obvious.
But, the sight of his lightweight body unable to withstand a shot of alcohol had you squirming in your seat, knowing your pussy was actively soaking your panties as the conversations continued.
Aang had long since stopped participating in the conversation, now hunched over the table with his face buried into his folded arms while the others continued talking around him.
Every few minutes, Zuko would slide another glass of water toward him, insisting it would help flush the alcohol out of his system.
Aang only mumbled that he was fine, though his words slurred slightly when he complained that he had not expected to feel so "floosy" after a single sip.
You on the other hand, were burning. Your pussy was desperately clenching around nothing, dripping on the flimsy fabric, as you now regretted wearing the skirt.
Aang's drowsy posture had given you something entirely new to admire. The broad slope of his shoulders, the defined muscles shifting faintly beneath his skin whenever he adjusted against the table, the elegant curve of his back disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants.
It took everything in you not to stare openly.
Your thoughts drifted embarrassingly fast, fixating on the sight of his back and imagining what it would feel like beneath your hands.
You fantasized how desperately your nails would claw at his back as he pushed his cock into you, fucking your fervently.
Or maybe he'd let you rest your legs over his shoulders as he ate you out, driving his tongue into you which will make your heels dig into his back, only pushing him closer.
Maybe he would even make you squirt? He was quiet talented at waterbe—
Your thoughts came to an abrupt halt the moment Aang pushed himself upright, mumbling something about needing to use the restroom before slowly making his way out of the room.
You lifted your wine glass toward your lips, eyes instinctively following him until he disappeared down the hallway, turning left once he stepped out.
Only then did you take another sip, absentmindedly humming in agreement to whatever Toph had just said.
Your attention was divided between the room and Aang. And the heat between your thighs had become unbearable to the point you had to take care of it.
A few minutes later, you finished the last of your wine and set the empty glass aside before excusing yourself as well, adjusting your skirt once you rose to your feet.
You followed the same path Aang had taken earlier, slower with your steps this time, though upon reaching the hallway you quickly realized the restroom was empty.
You only shrugged to yourself before slipping inside anyway, locking the door behind you and closing the seat before sitting down, hiking your skirt up around your waist.
You spread your legs wide enough to let your hand slip inside, sliding your panties to the side to bury two fingers deep.
You were so slick and hot, it was almost pathetic.
Your fingers did absolutely nothing in comparison to the fantasies you'd built of Aang doing this to you.
Leaning back, you began pumping your fingers, but the ridiculous amount of wetness made it difficult to find any real friction against your pussy.
It was frustrating, yet amusing; you had drenched yourself to the extent that you could barely feel your own fingers rubbing against you.
Nonetheless, the need to have your cunt filled was somewhat satisfied, letting your fingers curl pathetically against the spot you probed for a quick, desperate orgasm.
The pressure built relentlessly, and with it, your voice. You bit your lip hard, trying to suppress the sounds, but the rising heat was too much; a few desperate whimpers slipped past your teeth despite your best efforts.
It was only when you heard two giggling whispers close by that you froze.
You slapped a hand over your mouth, eyes widening in a flash of panic as you forced your body to go still.
Judging by the voice, one of them was definitely Suki.
Had she and Sokka slipped away for some privacy?
You sat up straighter immediately, halting every movement as you listened more carefully.
"Oh come on! Isn't it time already? You've liked each other longer than Sokka and I have even been together."
"That doesn't mean we're compatible! You've seen him...he's always busy being the Avatar..."
Katara.
You nearly stopped breathing.
Carefully, you stood up and adjusted your skirt, suddenly far more aware of every tiny sound you made while crossing the bathroom floor. Your hand remained clamped tightly over your mouth as you moved closer to the door, pressing your ear lightly against the wood to hear them better.
"So? He's never going to stop being the Avatar! Does that mean you'll wait until he's on his deathbed?"
"No...I just don't want to become a burden. He already has so many responsibilities, I don't want to add myself to them."
"Katara! You've kissed, for Spirits' sake! And...didn't you have that one night..."
"Shh! Suki, Aang is still out here..."
"Sorry," Suki whispered, lowering her voice even further. "But didn't you?"
You could hear Katara hesitate before she answered.
"Yes...we did do that..."
You froze.
Nausea twisted violently in your stomach at the thought of Katara and Aang together like that, tangled together somewhere inside this very house.
"Then why aren't you two together yet? Did he just use you? Because I can absolutely beat some sense into him."
"No! Spirits, no." Katara sounded horrified by the suggestion.
"It's my fault. I asked him not to talk about it again...to just put it behind us."
"Why?!"
"I panicked!" she admitted.
"I really do love Aang, but afterward I just...felt cheap. I couldn't believe we had done something like that before even talking about our feelings properly."
Slowly, you pulled away from the door.
Your hand slipped from your mouth while something sharp and terrible settled into place inside your mind all at once, so sudden it almost felt divine.
That was it.
Your chance.
"What did Aang say?" Suki asked after a moment.
"He agreed," Katara murmured. "Although...now that I think about it, he did seem a little hurt by it."
"Oh Katara, I am so mad at you—"
"Shh!" Katara cut her off quickly. "We've already been gone too long, and we still need to pick up the food from the kitchen."
Katara quickly hushed her again, dragging Suki away before her voice could rise any further.
Their conversation had given you everything you needed to know.
It seemed you had been terribly wrong about whatever existed between them.
They did not belong to each other, and that meant you could still do something about it.
You waited another few minutes before leaving the bathroom, taking the time to clean yourself up while listening carefully for the sound of their footsteps returning from the kitchen.
Only once the hallway had gone quiet again did you finally unlock the door and slip outside.
You did not particularly care that your little trip to the bathroom had left you unsatisfied.
Because in the end, it had not been pointless.
As long as there was still a chance for you to have Aang, you could live with the ache between your thighs.
You quietly made your way back toward the room where everyone had gathered, relieved to find them distracted enough to not notice you lingering briefly behind the doorframe.
You only peeked inside long enough to check whether Aang had returned.
He hadn't.
The realization made a smile threaten at the corners of your mouth.
This was your only opportunity.
So you slipped away again, quieter this time, searching through the massive house floor by floor while the sounds of laughter and conversation faded further beneath you.
Only upon reaching the topmost level did you finally slow.
Just before stepping fully into the room, your attention caught on the open balcony doors inside it.
There he was.
Your expression brightened instantly at finally finding him, eyes fixed on the sight of Aang leaning against the railing alone, letting the cold night air wash over him while the city lights flickered below.
Just as you were about to take a step forward—
"Just what are you plotting?"
Toph's voice came through, although quiet, held her usual fierceness.
You whipped around immediately, barely stopping the startled noise threatening to leave you before finally spotting the blind girl standing further down the hallway.
"Toph!" You hissed under your breath, pressing a hand against your chest before realizing what she had actually asked.
"I...was just making sure Aang was alright..." you answered quickly, which technically was not a lie, hoping it was bypass Toph's instincts.
Toph snorted.
"Yeah. Sure you were. Because you've always cared about him so much."
"Of course I do. He's my friend."
"Exactly," she drawled. "Your friend. Come on, at least try sounding convincing."
"I am not lying."
"Please." Toph folded her arms.
"I may be blind, but even I can sense your desperation from across the house. 'Cute outfit!' 'Thanks, Aanggg.'"
She mockingly pitched her voice higher during the imitation. "You were practically squealing."
Heat rushed straight to your face despite your irritation.
"And following after him?" She continued mercilessly. "Could you make it any more obvious? You're lucky everyone else in this house is dense enough to miss it."
You lowered your head slightly, irritation and embarrassment mixing unpleasantly inside your chest while Toph continued talking without pause.
"But not me. Since I am obviously the greatest Earthbender to ever li—"
Her voice rose noticeably toward the end of the sentence, forcing you to quickly slap a hand over her mouth before she could accidentally alert the entire floor.
"Fine, I get it," you whispered sharply. "Now can you please leave?"
Toph peeled your hand off her face with visible offense.
"Rude."
To your surprise, Toph's presence seemed to grow heavier beside you, the teasing tone disappearing entirely.
"You do know what you're doing is wrong, right?"
You paused, genuinely not expecting an actual lecture from her of all people.
"How is it wrong?"
Toph folded her arms.
"First you reject him. Then you throw him toward Katara. And now that those two finally have something going on, suddenly you want him back?"
"Toph, we were kids," you argued quietly.
"He's not still hung up over some rejection from when we were twelve. We're friends." You hesitated briefly before adding—
"And those two barely even have anything happening between them. I literally heard Katara admit it herself."
"Doesn't matter. It is still wrong."
"You're acting like I'm breaking them apart. They were never together to begin with!"
Toph clicked her tongue.
"You're still meddling. Worse, you're trying to steal him from your own friend."
You exhaled slowly, trying to keep your composure intact.
"Toph," you said carefully, "you're supposed to be the sensible one here. Is it really my fault if, after all these years, Aang ends up choosing me?"
"What makes you so sure he will?"
"Because Katara already had her chance." The words left you more sharply than intended.
"They've spent years dancing around each other and still nothing came out of it. I disappeared from his life completely, and somehow even that wasn't enough to push them together." You glanced toward the balcony again.
"At some point, maybe you have to admit it's simply not meant to be."
"You can't be the judge of that."
"I'm not trying to be." You straightened slightly, smoothing your skirt back into place before lifting your chin.
"Aang will make his own choice. And if he chooses me...then just know I was right." A faint smile touched your mouth.
Toph let out a slow breath through her nose.
You glanced toward her once more before stepping back toward the doorway leading to the balcony.
"Now go, Toph. I'm sure you don't want to become someone who meddles."
She clicked her tongue at that, clearly unimpressed by your attempt at turning her own argument against her, though after another moment she finally sighed and began walking away down the hallway.
Yeah.
She really was a good friend.
Unlike you.
You stepped into the room slowly, making sure your footsteps were loud enough to announce your presence rather than startle him.
Still, you saw Aang's shoulders tense slightly at the first creak of the floorboards behind him.
He turned around quickly. "Katara?"
The name struck harder than you expected.
But the moment he realized it was you instead, surprise softened into a smile.
"Hey..." His voice quieter now, softened by the lingering haze the alcohol had left behind.
You approached carefully as you joined him near the railing, sliding the balcony doors shut behind you to block out the noise from downstairs.
You smile up at him, trying not to show your irritation at the name he had called out.
"Hi, Aang. Are you alright? You've been gone for a while." You kept your tone light, sweet enough to avoid making him cautious.
"Yeah," he answered with a small laugh beneath his breath. "I just needed some air. Clear my head a little."
"I see." You rested your arms lightly against the railing beside him.
"Feeling better now?"
"Much."
He smiled again before glancing back toward the streets below.
"I think we should've predicted you'd be a lightweight."
"Seriously. It felt like my head fell off after one sip." Aang laughed rubbing the back of his neck.
"You head seems to be on right at least." You muse, leaning your back against the railing, having your head turned towards him as you spoke.
"Yup! I feel like myself again! For the most part at least." He jokes, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.
"You certainly look like you do." You tease, your eyes drifting over him once more before returning to his face.
"Come on. Let's go back! You did find me after all...everyone must be waiting." He says, before stepping away from the railing.
He had barely taken more than a couple of steps before your hand reached out instinctively, fingers wrapping around his forearm to stop him.
"Wait, Aang!"
He stopped the moment your hand touched him, turning back toward you almost immediately while you gently pulled him to a halt.
"Everything alright...?" He asked, remaining where he was instead of pulling away from your touch.
"Yeah, I just...I wanted to talk to you about something." You slowly let go of him once he stepped back beside you again.
"Oh." Aang settled against the railing once more, patient as ever.
"What's up?"
"Aang..."
Well fuck. You didn't actually think this through.
You had managed to get yourself up here alone with him, had spent the last twenty minutes convincing yourself this was your perfect opportunity, and now that he stood in front of you waiting so openly for whatever you wanted to say, you realized you had absolutely no idea how to make any of this work without sounding insane.
How exactly were you supposed to convince the boy you once rejected to choose you over the girl he had spent years being smitten with?
The girl he had apparently already shared a bed with.
Your teeth sank unconsciously into your bottom lip while nerves clawed their way through you, your throat tightening with the sudden realization of how pathetically desperate you must have looked tonight.
Toph had been right.
Spirits, she had been completely right.
You tried not to let any of it show on your face, but something must have slipped through regardless, because Aang picked up on it immediately.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
Aang's voice softened immediately with concern as he stepped closer, one hand settling carefully against your shoulder in an attempt to pull you out of whatever spiral you had disappeared into.
The touch snapped you back to reality far too quickly, his touch sending a chill throughout your skin, his newly matured voice doing wonders for your already fuzzy mind.
It completely ruined your ability to think straight.
"Why didn't you ever visit me?" The question slipped out before you could stop it.
Aang blinked in confusion. "What...?"
Well.
You had already said it now.
There was no point trying to take it back.
"Everyone visited me. Or at least wrote to me often. You never did...and eventually your letters stopped showing up too."
Aang looked genuinely taken aback by that.
"Is that why you've been mad at me?"
You frowned slightly. "I've been mad at you?"
"You keep glaring at me, and you've barely talked to me since you got here." He admitted carefully.
Between obsessing over him and trying not to stare at him every five seconds, you may have completely forgotten to behave like a normal person around him.
In hindsight, perhaps openly glaring at Katara every time she touched him had not been particularly subtle either.
The realization made heat crawl straight up your neck, embarrassment settling uncomfortably in your chest at the thought of who else might have noticed your behavior tonight.
Though, considering Toph had described the others as "dense as rocks," perhaps you still had some dignity left intact.
But then again, you figured you could use that to your advantage.
"Yes. I am angry with you." You confirmed, averting your gaze, knowing damn well his absence in your life hadn't been significant either way.
Aang's expression fell almost immediately.
"I'm sorry. You never wrote back and I just thought..." He hesitated briefly before laughing awkwardly under his breath.
"I don't know. I thought maybe you hated me." Aang admits, trying to convince you he didn't do anything deliberately.
"Why would I hate you, Aang?"
Your voice softened deliberately around his name while you turned your face again, grateful for the lingering effects from the wine making your flushed appearance seem far more believable.
"I don't think my heart could ever hate you," you murmured. "No matter what you did."
"That means a lot to me. Really."
You nearly frowned when Aang completely missed the implication behind your words, smiling instead at what he clearly believed was simple affection.
"I know I annoyed you a lot back then," He continued with a sheepish laugh. "Following you around and all. I just thought you didn't like me."
You knew he did not mean 'like' in a romantic sense.
Though even if he had, he would not have been entirely wrong.
"I did like you, Aang," you admitted softly. "I think...I admired you more than I wanted to."
His looked taken aback at that.
"At first, I honestly couldn't stand any of you," you continued with a quiet laugh. "Watching you and Katara run around the North Pole disrespecting centuries of tradition nearly drove me insane."
You shook your head lightly.
"But I'm grateful for it now."
"I heard you started your own academy for women."
The pride in his voice made warmth bloom annoyingly in your chest.
"Yes. Alongside healing, I teach combat to anyone interested in learning." A faint smile crossed your face.
"For that, I only have you and Katara to thank. Which is why..."
You let your voice trail off after that, deliberately avoiding his eyes while your fingers traced absent patterns against the railing, hoping it would make him more curious.
And it does, almost predictably so.
"Which is why?" Aang prompted gently.
You hesitated just long enough.
"Which is why it hurt when you never showed up."
The apology appeared on his face instantly.
You could see it in the subtle stillness that overtook him, in the way his hands loosened against the railing as though guilt had slipped into his bones before he could defend himself.
"I thought you didn't want me there." He admitted quietly.
"You never answered any of my letters, and after a while I just..." He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head once.
"I didn't want to bother you."
A smile touched your mouth, carrying just enough sadness to make him regret the sentence before it had even finished leaving him.
"You could never bother me."
The night air drifted between you both, carrying distant sounds from the streets below, though they hardly reached the balcony anymore.
His attention had settled entirely onto you now, patient and open in the way only Aang could be, and you hated how easy it was to pull him in once he decided to listen.
"I kept thinking you'd visit eventually," You continued.
"Every few months someone would arrive at the tribe and for a moment I'd convince myself it would be you." A quiet laugh escaped you.
"Sokka and Suki came whenever they could. Katara visited enough that the children started asking when she would return. Even Toph showed up once and insulted half the tribe before she left."
That finally earned a laugh from him and you waited for it to fade before looking up again.
"But never you."
The amusement disappeared from his expression so quickly it almost made you feel cruel.
"I didn't know you wanted me to."
"I think I just expected you to know."
You softened the line the moment it landed, turning your head away before it could sound accusatory.
"Aang" and "knowing" had always belonged together.
He noticed every frightened child, every wounded stranger, every person trying too hard to pretend they were alright.
You were counting on that part of him now, feeding it carefully until he began searching your face for things you had not yet said.
"Spirits. This sounds embarrassing now." You say, covering your face with your hands.
"No, it doesn't."
The answer came too quickly, and so did his hands as they rested on yours, pulling them away from your face.
"Back then, you always pushed me away. You never really took me seriously whenever I..." A small laugh escaped him, awkward and fleeting.
"I thought it meant you didn't want me around."
You looked at him for a moment before smiling faintly.
"Aang, we were children."
The embarrassment on his face deepened instantly.
"You were running around the world flirting with every girl who smiled at you."
"That is not true."
"Suki told me you tried to impress the Kiyoshi Warriors by flexing your staff."
"That was one time. I had never been around people who admired me before."
"You asked me if I thought your tattoos made you look mysterious."
"That—! That was Sokka's idea of— Ugh..." Aang groaned quietly into his hand while you laughed under your breath, watching the tension ease from him little by little.
"You were impossible, of course I didn't take you seriously." You chuckled.
"But...you do now?"
There it was.
Just a sliver of hope in his voice.
You waited, hesitating for a good anticipating moment before you spoke.
"I just...I think somewhere along the way...you stopped being a boy I simply found...amusing."
The honesty in that sentence unsettled him. His attention lingered on you, trying to read through your expression and failing each time you softened before giving too much away.
"You still could've written back to me." He muttered, though the guilt had not left him entirely.
"I know." You sighed lightly, searching your head for a believable excuse.
"But after the war ended, everything changed so quickly. You had a city to build. Katara stayed beside you. Sokka had Suki. Zuko was ruling an entire nation. Toph disappeared into whatever cave she crawled out of. " A smile tugged briefly at your mouth.
"I suppose I convinced myself there wasn't really a place left for me."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?" You shot back instantly.
You did not say it bitterly. It was important not to do so. You couldn't show any anger or place blame.
"You all built something together here while I stayed behind in the North teaching children how to heal sprained wrists."
"You did more than that."
"I know," you answered gently. "But it's different hearing about someone's life through letters instead of being part of it. And every time your letters became shorter, I told myself it was normal. You were growing into someone important. But..."
You paused again, and you knew every time you did so was nipping at his curiosity.
"You were important to me, Aang."
His throat shifted around a swallow.
"You were important to me too."
"Were?"
The correction slipped out playfully, but it struck him all the same. You watched realization move through him at once, watched him stumble over himself trying to fix it.
"Are. I meant are."
You let him have the recovery, lowering your eyes with a quiet smile that rewarded him for it.
"I know everyone needs something from you now," you said after a moment. "The council needs the Avatar. Republic City needs its founder. Whole nations probably line up waiting for a piece of your time."
His attention was rooted to you.
"But I didn't miss the Avatar."
He had gone entirely still beneath your words, waiting for you to finish your sentence.
You slowly moved, catching him off guard as you softly took his hands in yours.
"I missed you."
You could practically feel him trying to make sense of it, trying to decide whether this ache blooming inside his chest had always been there or whether you had placed it there yourself.
"You...make it sound like I abandoned you..." He admitted, though there was no defensiveness in it.
You tilted your head slightly, watching him through your lashes.
"Didn't you?"
"Aang!" A voice echoed faintly somewhere inside the house, muffled by walls and distance.
Katara.
You felt the interruption scrape across your nerves, but you did not let it show.
Instead, your thumb brushed once against the inside of his wrist, subtle enough to feel accidental.
His attention remained on you.
Interesting.
"I know you had your reasons." You continued gently, lowering your voice until it almost blended into the wind around you.
"You've always done what everyone else needed first. I think that's why people expect you to wait forever for them."
Something unreadable passed through him then, because he understood exactly what you meant even without hearing her name.
"And what do you need?" He asked.
There it was.
Not the Avatar speaking.
Just Aang.
You let the silence play out for a while before finally moving your hand from his wrist and sliding it slowly into his palm instead, holding it facing up.
"I think, I wanted to know whether you would've chosen me if I had asked you to stay." You said softly,
"...Stay where?" His breath got heavier, very aware of your hand in his. You moved to use both your hands to hold one of his, bringing it closer to yourself with every word you spoke.
"With me? Continue to be a part of my life?" You say with a tilt of you head, brining his hand even closer till his fingers were barely grazed your stomach.
It was only when you slid his hand down, letting it slip under your skirt did he react. His breath hitched a sharp, stifled gasp and a deep flush crept across his face, catching him completely off guard.
"Wait—"
Aang barely managed his protest before you smoothly cut him off with your own plea.
"I needed you, Aang. And I still do."
You really did.
He felt the heat of you, letting out an audible hiss at the touch. You weren't just warm; you were burning, so soaked that the fabric covering you had long since lost its purpose.
To test the waters, you removed your hands from the equation.
To your surprise, Aang does not pull his hand away, resting it right where it was, fingers pressed into the drench fabric.
You shifted, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a deep embrace that forced him to hunch over and rest against you.
As you pulled him close, his face instinctively tucked away, hiding the sheer embarrassment of having his hand still buried between your thighs.
He could have moved. He should have. Yet, he stayed.
And he only melted further into you when your voice added—
"I really need you...Aang."
Apparently it had been enough to set him off, as you felt his fingers slip past the fabric failing to hold your desire, and his touch began experimental movements across the length of your folds, testing just how wet you really were.
"Hahh...!"
A breathless huff escaped you. The sensation of his fingers was far better than any fantasy had led you to expect.
Aang still hid his face against the curve of your neck, but you could feel his warmth radiating against you.
The sweat that had beaded on his forehead, cutting through the arrow, now getting smeared onto you.
It didn't bother you not when you could feel his ragged, confused breaths fanning against your skin.
Dropping one arm from around him, you slid it between your thighs, pressing yourself against his hand to encourage him to dip inside.
He complied, though with a heavy hesitation, taking a few agonizing seconds to decide which finger would breach you first.
A moan escaped you, only to be stifled as you bit down hard on his shoulder. The memory of Katara looking for him just moments ago flashed through your mind.
You silently wished the fellow Water Tribe girl wouldn't ruin this moment for you.
Not when you were so close to having him.
Aang remained pressed against your shoulder, his mind a whirlwind of uncertainty. The frantic beating of his heart was uncontainable, and he knew you could surely feel the thud of it against your own skin.
His mind drifted to Katara. He remembered when they had finally seemed to have something, only for her to put a hold on it never speaking of it again, acting as if nothing had changed.
But you were right here, soaking his hand with a heat that was clearly a desperate need for him.
Sure, you had turned him down, but you were kids! And he was annoying and unserious back then.
And he had insulted your tribe's customs, likely offending you far more than he had ever intended.
He had spent so long thinking you hated him, never realizing that you had been caring for him all along.
And he had denied you that care, never once coming to visit.
He was torn.
He was caught between the woman who had shut him down when they were children, the one he held right here beneath his fingers, and the woman he had spent nearly a decade with, only to be turned away just as they had finally made progress.
Unable to decide, he forced himself to focus on the way you wrapped around his fingers, feeling the warmth of your honeyed walls clinging tightly to him.
"Have you...done this before?"
Your voice came in a breathless rasp, finally pulling away from his shoulder where you had been biting down to muffle your cries.
He couldn't be dishonest with you, but his voice failed him; instead, he answered with a silent nod.
You felt the small, hesitant shake of his head against your shoulder. You already knew his answer, after all you had overheard enough of Katara's words to lead you to this very moment.
"Would you like to...tell me who...it was?"
You pressed the question, struggling to keep your moans contained as your focus drifted from the slow pumping of his fingers.
Fuck...he was doing so good.
Aang still couldn't find his voice; worse, he felt too exposed, too shy to answer.
He found a strange comfort in the way you gave him an option. You hadn't demanded a name or forced him to relive the details; you had simply asked if he wanted to share.
He figured that since you cared for him so deeply, you would never hold his past against him. With that thought, he responded with a small shake of his head.
He disagreed.
If you hadn't already known about him and Katara, his disagreement to sharing the name would have bothered to no extent. But knowing the truth made his hesitation sting.
Still, in this moment, his reluctance only worked in your favor.
You shifted your weight, swapping your arms; you replaced the one draped over his shoulders with the one that had been aiding him, bringing it down to join his hand between your thighs.
Your now free hand reached up to his head, stroking softly against his skin as you whispered—
"Okay. You don't have to tell me."
You spoke softly, a gentle balm intended to soothe his nerves.
Minutes passed as his fingers continued their work, though in the lulls, he opened his eyes to gaze at the city sprawling below.
Even though they were on the topmost floor of Katara's home, they weren't entirely invisible. They weren't high enough to be truly hidden; while a passerby at this hour was rare, it wasn't far from impossible.
If anyone were to look up, they would find the Avatar in a very compromising position.
But he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when it felt like he was searching for the lost puzzle piece of his life inside your cunt.
You on the other hand were thoroughly enjoying yourself, completely dazed under Aang's tentative touch.
But of course, it was only a matter of time before someone had to ruin it.
You didn't see who it was; all you noticed was the sudden creak of the door as the corridor light spilled into the room, a sharp intrusion that made you instinctively push harder against Aang.
"Someone is here, Aang straighten up!" you ordered in a hurried whisper. He barely seemed to register the command, so you pushed against his shoulders with renewed urgency, forcing him to straighten up and take a frantic step back.
"Oh! There they are!" Sokka's voice cut through the silence, muffled and faint behind the balcony door. You knew you only had a few seconds before he made his way over.
Moving with desperate grace, you caught Aang's hand, guiding it out from inside you.
You brought his hand up to your face, and he watched, mesmerized, as you used both hands to direct him.
You pressed his slick fingers against your lips, observing his wide eyes as you slowly dragged the wetness down, your bottom lip bouncing back into place as the finger passed.
His first real reaction came when you took those same fingers into your mouth, cleaning them with a slow, deliberate sweep of your tongue before letting them fall.
His lips pressed together in a tight, pained line as you licked your own, wiping your tongue across your bottom lip while keeping his gaze locked onto yours.
It was only when Sokka finally swung the balcony door open that you used a free hand to casually wipe the remaining moisture from your mouth.
"Do you have any idea how long we've been looking for you?"
Sokka's voice came first. You still could not properly see him with Aang standing between you and the entrance, though the annoyance in his tone painted the expression well enough.
"Why would you guys come all the way up here?"
Katara spoke next.
Instinctively, your attention flicked back toward Aang, searching immediately for some reaction at the sound of her voice.
There was none.
He remained entirely absorbed in the moment you had dragged him into, eyes fixed stubbornly on your mouth as though he still felt your lips around his fingers.
And because he was looking at you so devotedly, you knew you could not risk letting your satisfaction show.
So you put on a usual cheeky smile.
Leaning slightly to the side, you finally stepped into view of the Water Tribe siblings.
"Katara! Sorry for intruding around your house," you said easily. "I just needed some air and ended up finding Aang here."
You smiled sweetly while speaking to her.
"It's alri—"
Katara barely managed half the sentence before Aang interrupted unexpectedly.
"Could you guys give us a moment?"
Even while speaking, he never looked away from you.
"What?" Sokka laughed. "You guys talking about something we're not allowed to hear?"
The joke landed far closer to the truth than he realized.
"We were discussing your birthday present," you answered smoothly before Aang could attempt it himself. "You don't want us ruining the surprise, do you?"
The lie came easily, effortless beneath your smile.
"Oh, sweet." Sokka grinned immediately. "Come on then, you two. Aang's still not off the hook for abandoning his drink after one sip."
You nodded along lightly at his teasing.
"Come on, Katara."
He motioned toward his sister, though Katara still had not taken her eyes off Aang.
"Your robes are clean now," she told him quietly. "You can dry them out and put them back on."
She was waiting for him to answer.
You truly expected him to.
But after several seconds passed in silence, with Aang still standing there looking entirely lost in you, you finally spoke for him instead.
"He'll be there in a minute," you said gently.
Katara's expression shifted almost imperceptibly at that, though all she gave in response was a small nod.
The siblings eventually turned away, disappearing back through the doorway.
You missed the way Sokka's smile slowly faded the moment they left the room, suspicion settling quietly beneath his expression.
The second they disappeared from sight, you turned back toward Aang and lifted your arms around his shoulders, slowly pulling his face closer to yours.
"Aang..."
He said nothing.
For one horrible second, you genuinely wondered whether you had pushed him too far, whether everything you had carefully built tonight had finally cracked beneath the weight of your own desperation.
Still, you forced yourself to continue.
"I have certain feelings for you, and..."
You let the sentence trail off deliberately, lowering your eyes for only a moment to see whether he would follow.
He did, meeting your eyes quickly.
"...If you feel the same," you continued softly, "or even if you don't...I would rather you tell me honestly instead of making me guess."
He still doesn't say anything, and suddenly you became painfully aware of the fact he still was not touching you back.
His hands remained tightly wrapped around the balcony railing while he stayed slightly hunched within your hold, breathing harder than before yet making no move toward you at all.
So you leaned in first.
Your lips barely brushed his, letting it rest against him softly, giving him every opportunity to close the distance himself if he wanted to.
You waited.
But when nothing came from him, you slowly pulled away again, forcing yourself to accept the rejection with whatever dignity you still had left.
You released him completely after that.
Without another word, you moved past him and made your way back toward the room alone, fixing your appearance along the way while trying not to think too hard about the humiliation burning through your chest.
By the time you reached the room again, Zuko was approaching from the opposite hallway carrying a rolled mattress beneath one arm.
"You're staying over?" You asked quietly, falling into step beside him.
"We all are," he answered simply while pushing the door open. "Sokka's idea."
"Let me help."
You moved beside him automatically, helping spread the mattress across the floor while the others continued setting up the rest nearby.
Several minutes later, Aang finally returned.
The moment he stepped back into the room, nearly everyone looked up toward him automatically while Katara quietly approached with his robes folded neatly in her arms, still slightly damp from washing.
"Thanks..." he says, accepting them with a small smile though noticeably avoiding her eyes.
With one absent motion of his hand, warm air rushed through the fabric until the remaining dampness vanished completely, pulling the robes back on quickly.
Aang let out a distracted hum first, clearly taking a second to even process the question.
"Y-yeah! Yeah, I'll stay." He answered.
Then he moved toward the others to help arrange the remaining mattresses across the floor.
You noticed immediately how carefully he avoided looking at you.
Humiliation crawled so violently through your chest that for one awful moment you genuinely thought you might burst into tears right there in front of everyone.
So, you decided to play your final card.
After finishing helping Toph Beifong with one of the mattresses, you slowly rose to your feet. The others remained distracted arranging blankets and arguing over sleeping spots, giving you the perfect moment to speak.
"I'm sorry, guys." You said quietly, right before the final mattress could be laid down properly.
"I think I'll head back to the inn for the night."
Almost immediately, Suki looked up in concern, her attention catching on your agitated expression.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah." You forced a faint smile.
"I don't think the wine sat right in my stomach, and I'd rather be alone before it gets worse."
The excuse sounded embarrassingly pathetic even to you, though thankfully nobody questioned it.
You had barely managed three steps toward the hallway when Aang's voice suddenly cut through the room behind you.
"Wait—"
The word came out louder than he intended, pulling the attention of everyone gathered across the floor. Conversations halted almost immediately, Sokka halfway through unfolding another mattress while Suki looked up from where she sat beside him.
Even Katara paused mid movement, fingers still curled around the edge of folded blankets.
Aang looked momentarily caught off guard by the silence he had created, standing near the doorway with his robes hanging loosely from his shoulders.
His eyes found yours first before quickly shifting toward the others.
"I'll be back. I'll just walk her back. It's late." He said, clearing his throat once.
You stopped at the sound of him volunteering himself so quickly, though you made sure not to turn around immediately.
The smile threatening to betray you curled against your mouth before you forced it back down, lowering your head just enough to hide it beneath the curtain of your hair.
Behind you came the soft sound of approaching footsteps.
You finally glanced sideways once his presence settled near enough to feel, only to notice your shadow disappearing beneath his entirely, swallowed whole against the wooden floorboards.
"Let's go."
You nodded softly before leaning sideways toward the room, offering everyone one last smile.
"Goodnight."
A chorus of sleepy replies followed, though the atmosphere had shifted too strangely.
You stepped into the hallway first, Aang close behind you.
Perhaps Katara already understood he would not be returning tonight.
Perhaps all of them did.
Because right before Aang had pulled his robes back on, the mark you left behind had not gone unnoticed.
The bite pressed near his shoulder stood out plainly against his skin for one terrible second before fabric covered it again, though one second had been more than enough.
Enough for Sokka's expression to flatten beneath confusion.
Enough for Suki's eyes to widen before she quickly looked away.
Enough for Katara to go completely still.
No one spoke of it.
They simply resumed around the absence, voices awkwardly finding each other.
Toph remained the only one untouched by the shift in atmosphere, still arguing with Zuko over where she wanted to sleep while the rest of them waited quietly for the Avatar's return despite knowing, somewhere deep down, that he would not be coming back anytime soon.
The walk back to the inn passed beneath a suffocating silence, neither of you quite knowing what could possibly be said after what had happened on that balcony.
Aang stayed half a step ahead the entire way, shoulders tense beneath his robes, attention fixed stubbornly on the empty streets ahead rather than you.
You noticed it after the second block.
His hand.
The same hand that had been between your thighs less than half an hour ago kept flexing at his side every few moments, fingers curling tightly into his palm before releasing again, restless and agitated.
Once, he nearly lifted it toward his face before abruptly stopping midway, jaw tightening faintly as he forced it back down again.
You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling.
Because despite the distance he was trying so desperately to create between himself and what happened, his body had already betrayed him entirely.
By the time you reached the inn, the silence between you had grown so dense it nearly felt tangible.
Aang stopped only once the two of you stood at the entrance, the lantern hanging beside gate casting a dim glow across the side of his face.
For the first time since leaving Katara's house, he finally looked at you properly.
"Okay. Goodnight." He said after a moment.
You watched him step past you.
And just before he could get too far, you finally spoke.
"Come to my room, Aang."
He stopped instantly.
For a second he did not move at all, standing there with his back turned toward you before slowly facing you again.
The flush across his face had not faded in the slightest, still spread stubbornly over his cheeks and ears while confusion sat plainly beneath it.
You tilted your head slightly.
"Did you really come all this way just to say nothing?"
Aang opened his mouth briefly, only for whatever response he meant to give to die somewhere before reaching his tongue.
His attention slipped away from you again, landing somewhere near the floor while his hand flexed once more at his side.
Then, without a word, he closed the distance between you.
You turned before he could second guess himself, walking down the hallway with measured steps while his followed close behind you.
Neither of you spoke as you unlocked the door, pushing it open before stepping aside to let him enter first.
Aang hesitated slightly before walking in.
You shut the door behind you and leaned against it for one brief moment, fingers still curled around the handle while your heartbeat thundered violently against your ribs.
Because all you could think now was—
It was now or never.
"Aang." You call out softly, just his name, testing the weight of it.
He flinches like you've struck him. His shoulders drop, his head bowing as if he's suddenly carrying the weight of the entire world again.
"I shouldn't be here," he whispers into the quiet of the room, his voice cracking enough to show how close he is to snapping.
"I should go back. It's not right, and—"
"It's not right," you interrupt, your voice dropping an octave. You take one step closer, watching him tense.
"But you want to stay. You want this so badly it's making you tremble, Aang."
He lets out a ragged, broken sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan as he finally looks up. His eyes are wide and desperate with of confusion.
"It's not that simple."
"Why not?" You're in his space now, close enough to feel the heat coming off him.
You reach out, your fingertips barely grazing the fabric of his robes along his collarbone where you bit him earlier.
He shudders at the proximity, his breath hitching.
"You can go back to being the perfect Avatar, the perfect friend, the perfect everything. You can walk out that door right now and pretend this never happened."
You lean in closer, your lips brushing his ear, your voice a velvet promise.
"But you won't. Because for the first time in your entire life, you're going to choose what you want. Not what's right or expected of you. Just what you want."
You pull back enough to catch his gaze, your eyes dark with the truth of it.
"So tell me, Aang. Are you really going to walk out that door?"
He moves away from you, crossing to reach your bed.
Aang sinks onto the edge of your bed, burying his face in his hands as if he can squeeze the conflicting thoughts right out of his skull.
You move to sit beside him, your thigh brushing his, and the way he flinches even now makes your pulse thrum.
"Why is this bothering you so much?" You ask softly, your voice a gentle caress against his turmoil.
"It's not..." He chokes out the lie, his fingers digging into his scalp.
"It's just...everything changed. The way I look at you, the way you look at me it's like the world shifted and I don't know where my feet are supposed to land."
He turns his head, searching your face for something an explanation, a reason.
He finally asks—
"What do you need from me?"
You paused, not having expected it but grateful for his question nonetheless.
"I just want you." You say simply.
He stares at you, eyes wide and searching, trying to untangle the knots you've tied in his mind.
You don't make him wait.
You stand, moving between his knees as you straddle him, settling yourself firmly in his lap.
His hands hesitate in the air, fingers twitching as if they want to catch you, to hold you and then they drop, fists clenching at his sides as he forces himself to stay still.
"I will give you everything you want, Aang," You promise him, leaning in until your breath fans over his lips.
"I will never disappoint you. I'll give you a home. Children. A safe place where you can just be Aang. No burdens."
The silence that follows is different, heavy with the weight of the life you've just offered him.
Finally, he finds his voice.
"Why...?"
"Because I want to." You say, the words sure and steady.
"I want to be your wife."
Aang's entire body stills.
His eyes widen, his breath hitching in his throat as if you've just knocked the wind out of him.
"Why...why would you want that?" He sounds genuinely lost, as if you've just spoken a language he doesn't understand.
"Because..." You hesitate, letting out a chuckle as you see him unconsciously lean closer in patience.
"I love you," you say, leaning forward to press your forehead against his, closing your eyes.
"And I want you to be free."
You stay there for a moment, letting the weight of your confession settle.
When you pull back, he's looking at you with an expression you can't quite read.
It was something between awe and sheer terror.
For a long painful while, Aang said nothing at all.
His eyes slowly slipped shut, his head lowering slightly while his fingers tightened into fists.
You watched the conflict move across his face in, watching him sit there trying to untangle every thought pulling him apart from the inside.
And suddenly, fear crawled its way up your spine. It truly felt possible that he might pull away from you completely.
"You will have to come live in Republic City," He says quietly.
You were snapped out of your wallowing thoughts.
When you finally replayed the moment, his sentence barely registered.
You were still too focused on the fear twisting inside your chest, too busy preparing yourself for rejection to properly process what he had actually said.
Then the meaning finally settled into place.
Your head snapped up immediately, as you froze, pulling back to stare at him in shock.
"Are you...agreeing?"
He hesitates, his throat working as he swallows hard. Then, slowly, he nods.
You can't help it; a squeal of pure triumph escapes you.
"Thank you, Aang!"
You lunge forward to hug him again, the momentum sending you both backward onto the mattress.
When you sit back up, Aang's breath hitches.
His eyes go wide as you reach for the hem of your top and pull it over your head in one fluid motion.
The fabric slides off your shoulders, leaving you bare chested in the dim light, your nipples already peaked from the adrenaline.
"What are you doing?" He almost exclaims, his voice cracking. He wrenches his gaze away, jaw tight, shoulders hunching as if he's trying to make himself smaller.
"Isn't this why you came here?" You tilt your head, watching him through your lashes, your voice dropping into that sweet, manipulative purr.
"We still have things to talk about," He says, forcing himself to sit up straighter.
He stares at your face with desperate intensity, pointedly ignoring the way your breasts are inches from his chest.
"Do you...not want me?" You let the question hang, making your voice go small, making your eyes well with perfectly calculated tears.
"That's not—!!" He cuts himself off, the confession dying in his throat.
"Then kiss me..." You whisper, the command soft but absolute.
Another moment passes in a thick and suffocating silence before he finally gives in.
He leans in, his movement hesitant as he presses his lips to yours.
It's not the confident kiss of a man who knows what he wants, it's the kiss of someone who's finally stopped fighting the inevitable.
You let the kiss linger, pressing into him enough to leave him breathless, then pull back with a shy, triumphant smile.
"There..." You whisper, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Before he can answer, you reach for the ties of his robes.
Your movements are swift as you undo the knots.
Aang freezes, his breath hitching in his throat, but he doesn't pull away.
You peel the heavy fabric from his shoulders, exposing the broad span of his back and the striking blue line that curves down his spine. His skin is hot beneath your palms, and you feel the way his muscles jump at your touch.
"You're so beautiful." You coo, your voice a velvet caress as you slide the robes down his arms, leaving him bare chested.
The arrowheads on his hands flex as he grips the mattress, knuckles white, his chest heaving.
You shift your weight, moving from his laps as you sink to your knees onto the ground between his legs, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.
"May I?" you ask, your hands already moving to the waistband of his pants.
Aang makes a sound like he's choking on it.
"I... yes," He manages, his voice barely a whisper.
When you finally free him, he's already past the point of no return.
You take him in your hands first, stroking him slowly, watching his head fall back as his hand tremble to hold his weight upright.
Then you lean in.
The first touch of your lips makes him gasp, his hips jerking up involuntarily.
You go slow, teasing him, swirling your tongue around the head, catching every drop of pre cum.
You want him to feel every sensation, to realize exactly what he's been missing. You take him in deep, inching slowly as your throat tightens around him, and the sound that leaves him is raw and broken.
"Spirits, please..." He moans, his fingers digging harshly into the sheets.
"Do you like this, Aang?" You murmur against him, pulling back enough to look up at him.
"Do you like how I take care of you?"
You let the question hang in the air, your tongue slowly tracing the length of him again, making him whine that sweet, broken sound that tells you exactly how close he is.
You can feel the way he's trembling beneath your touch, his breath coming in shallow, uneven hitches.
"Shh, I know," You whisper against him, your lips barely brushing the sensitive skin.
"I've got you, Aang. Let me take care of you."
You keep your movements agonizingly slow.
You drag your tongue up and down, teasing the ridge with just enough pressure to make his hips twitch involuntarily before you pull back.
You want him suspended here right on the edge of conflict and emotion, hoping it might bring out some of his truth out with it.
His hand moves, finding the top of your head.
His fingers tangle in your hair, not pulling you but holding you there, grounded by the contact.
"You're...you're making it so hard," He chokes out, his eyes squeezed shut, his head lulling back and forth.
"Is it too much?" You murmur, your voice dripping with fake concern as you take him deeper.
You swirl your tongue around the tip, and the sound he makes, that wrecked, desperate whimper is better than any confession he could have given you.
You keep your pace steady, your eyes never leaving his face as you watch him whimper breathlessly.
You lean back to press a soft kiss to his inner thigh, your lips barely grazing him, and hear him catch his breath sharply.
"Please..." He pleads, his voice cracking. "I don't... I don't know how to "
"It's okay," You interrupt softly, your hands sliding up his thighs to feel the taut muscle there.
"Just feel it, Aang. Just feel how good this is."
You go back down, your tongue working in slow, deliberate circles, teasing the sensitive skin just below the head.
When his hips buck upward, nearly meeting you halfway, you pause, pulling back once again to look up at him through your lashes.
His chest is heaving, his skin flushed, those arrowhead on his hand flexing as he dug into the bedding.
"Do you want more?" You ask, your voice a velvet trap.
He can't even find words.
He just nods, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding back.
You take him in deep, your throat tightening around him, letting out a soft, satisfied hum as you feel him shudder underneath you.
You keep it slow, tantalizingly close to the edge, making him feel every single second of it.
You pull away abruptly, the sudden absence of your warmth making him let out a pathetic, wounded hiss through his teeth.
You can't help the laugh that escapes you as you watch his hand leave your head and meet the mattress again, eyes glazed over and unfocused.
"You said earlier you've done this before," You state, moving your hand to resume that slow, torturous slide up and down his length.
"Did she not do this...?"
Aang shakes his head, his entire body betraying him as a fresh bead of pre cum wells at the tip.
He doesn't know you already know. He doesn't know you've already heard the truth, and you savor that.
"What did you do then?" You ask, your voice dripping with faux innocence.
"I...I used my fingers on her..." He trails off, his blush deepening to a feverish red that stains his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
"Then I tried to..."
"Go on..." You encourage, stopping your hand entirely.
You watch the way his breath hitches at the sudden lack of friction, his hips twitching upward instinctively.
"I used my mouth..." He chokes out, his voice barely audible. "But she didn't like it..."
"Not everyone enjoys it." You say with a gentle shrug.
"It difficult, being so exposed to the person you like..." Trailing off, you wait for a nuance, but his breathless gasps continue.
"Had she asked you to do it?"
"No..." He says immediately, the word tumbling out with a touch of guilt.
"I just...I didn't want it to hurt her when we..."
You pout.
"How sweet of you, Aang," You coo, resuming the rhythmic movement of your hand.
His hips jerk in place, his breath hitching as he fights to keep it together.
"And then what happened?"
"Then we did... it." He groans, his eyes fluttering shut.
"Is she still in your life?" You question, watching to see if he would finally admit it.
"We never spoke about it after..."
"Oh, you poor thing..." You murmur, letting go of him entirely as you move upward to wrap your arms around him.
You press your face into the crook of his neck, feeling the rapid thudding of his heart.
"I would never deny you like that, Aang. Never."
The silence stretches and the weight of your words fall thick around you.
Then, slowly, hesitantly, his arms come around you. His touch is almost reverent, his fingers curling into your back as he pulls you flush against him.
"Thank you..." He whispers into your hair, so quiet you almost miss it.
You pull back to look him in the eyes, your expression a mask of perfect, gentle understanding.
"Would you like to...try it with me?"
He doesn't hesitate this time. He nods, his grey eyes focused on yours with a look of surprising relief.
"Okay." You say, your smile widening just a fraction too far to be entirely innocent.
"I think we can skip a step, since you've already used your fingers earlier tonight. Not that I'm opposed." You give a gentle wink, making him shyly avert his gaze.
The air in the room feels like it might combust from the sheer, unadulterated tension as you slide off his lap, the movement agonizingly slow.
The sound of your skirt hitting the floor is the only thing breaking the silence, followed by the sight of your soaked underwear being peeled away.
Aang's breath hitches audibly as he watches you maneuver onto the bed.
His eyes drop to where you're sitting back against the pillows, legs spreading open to reveal everything to him, glistening and swollen in the dim light.
He looks completely undone.
He crawls forward on his knees, hovering over you like he's approaching something sacred, his hands trembling as they ghost over your thighs.
When his thumb finally makes contact, pressing against your already swollen folds, you can't help it that sharp hiss escapes your teeth.
"Hahh!"
You arch slightly, your fingers digging into the bedsheets.
You look down at him through your lashes, voice breathless and strained.
"Do you...know what to do?"
Aang shakes his head, his face flushed a deep, burning red.
He looks absolutely terrified to mess this up, yet the need in his eyes is undeniable.
Without waiting for another word, he leans forward, his tongue darting out to taste you.
The contact makes your hips jerk upward, and when he pulls back, a long, broken moan tears from your throat.
You can feel the heat radiating off him, the sheer desperation in his movements.
"That's okay..." You say, your voice dropping into as devastatingly sweet, encouraging tone.
You reach down, your palm cupping his cheek, forcing him to look up at you while his mouth is still wet from you.
The arrow on his head catches the light, his pupils dilated and hazy with need.
"I...I will help you..."
You slide your hand over his head, guiding him back down, pressing him closer until his lips meet you again.
Under your hand, you can feel the way he shudders, gasping against you as he finally lets himself lose control, his tongue working with a clumsy, earnest passion that makes your vision blur.
The way he's looking at you right now dazed and flushed, is better than any orgasm.
You reach down, your fingers spreading his lips apart just slightly so you can guide his face, your voice dropping into a low and instructional tone.
"No, not like that..." You mumble, your thumb grazing his bottom lip.
"Lower. Right...there."
You push him down, your hips tilting instinctively toward the contact. When his tongue finds the swollen nub of your clit, you let out a sharp, broken gasp that makes him jerk back.
"Slow down, Aang. Use the flat of your tongue. Don't...don't be so frantic."
He obeys instantly, his movements cautious and devout as if he's afraid he might get the same reaction he got last time.
But you can feel the desperation beneath his hesitation, the way his fingers curl into the flesh of your thighs, knuckles white.
You guide his head with your hands, showing him exactly how you want to be touched long, slow strokes that make your whole body tense, then quick, teasing laps that make your breath hitch.
"Yes...just like that,... You pant, your voice making the short hairs at the nape of his neck stand up.
"Oh Aang...! You're doing so good. So good for me..."
The praise is clearly working; you feel him adjust, his tongue finding a rhythm that makes your toes curl.
You can feel him watching you through his lashes, studying your face for every twitch of your lips and every stuttered breath.
You want him to see exactly what he's doing to you, to witness the way his tongue is pleasuring you unimaginably.
You tilt your head back and whisper his name like a mantra.
"That's it, Aang! Just like that...You're doing so well for me!"
You let your head fall back against the pillows, your breath coming in shallow, staggered gasps as you guide him. Your hand is gently pressing his face closer whenever he hesitates, whenever he pulls back to look at you with those wide, uncertain eyes.
"There...keep going—!" You moan, your hips tilting up of their own accord. "Right there!"
The ragged sound he makes when he's trying to be careful is more intoxicating than any physical sensation.
Every time your soft instructions pull a whimper from him, a spike of triumph shoots through you.
He's being so careful. So incredibly gentle with you, his tongue moving with a hesitant reverence that makes your stomach flip. He's trying to learn you, trying so hard to do this right, and the sheer vulnerability of it is what finally breaks you.
You did it.
You eyes flutter shut as another wave of pleasure rolls through you.
You actually did it.
The thought is more intoxicating than the sex itself.
The realization that you've dismantled the Avatar, stripped away the hero and the monk until all that's left is this raw, exposed boy who is so desperately trying to please you...it's better than anything you could have imagined when you started this a day ago.
"Y-you're doing so good..." You whisper the genuine praise that makes him shudder. His tongue sweeps again, longer this time, more confident, and you can't help the way your thighs tighten around his face, pulling him in.
"Just like that, Aang. Don't stop. Don't you dare stop...!"
You listen to the wet, slurping sounds of him working on you, the way he swallows every moan you let out, and you feel that possessive heat blooming in your chest.
He's not yours yet.
Not entirely.
But you can feel the shift in him.
The way he's clinging to you, the way he's listening to you.
When he finally presses his face harder against you, his breath hot against your damp skin, and you feel that first surge of your orgasm building.
You meet him halfway, your hips arching up, your fingers digging into his skin as you whisper his name like a prayer.
"That's it...oh spirits, Aang..."
You watch him through heavy eyelids, the way his jaw works, the way his eyes go unfocused as he feels you writhe under him.
And you realize that you're already planning how to make him do this again.
And again.
And again.
Until he doesn't even remember what it was like when you weren't the only thing he wanted to please.
"Aang, I'm—!" The words catch in your throat as a wave of pleasure begins to build harshly. "I'm going to—!"
"I've got you..." He mumbles against your skin, his voice thick and unrecognizable.
He presses his face into you, his tongue working with a sudden, focused intensity that shatters your last thread of control.
Your orgasm hits like a physical blow, your entire body going rigid as you cry out his name, sinking your fingers into his scalp as you come apart beneath him.
You feel him catch every drop, his tongue sweeping over you with a greedy thoroughness that leaves you shaking and breathless.
When you finally slump back, your chest heaving, your skin slick with sweat, he pulls back to look up at you.
His face is feverish, his lips wet, and his eyes are completely glazed with something that looks terrifyingly close to worship.
"Was that..." He starts, his voice cracking.
"Was that okay?"
You can't even find the words to tell him it was better than perfect.
You just reach down, your fingers trembling as you cup his face, pulling him back up for a kiss that tastes of you and him.
You guide his back to the pillows with gentle pressure from your hands on his shoulders, watching the way he settles beneath you, all broad shoulders and lean muscles, his tattooed arms splayed out like he's surrendering to something inevitable.
He looks utterly wrecked, his breathing still coming in ragged puffs, his gaze following your every movement with a mix of curiosity and unadulterated terror.
"I've got you..." You assure, your voice like honey as you straddle his hips.
You do not rush it.
You don't even move to come down on him yet.
You just sit there, your knees on either side of his thighs, feeling the heat radiating off him.
"Just breathe, Aang. Look at me."
His gaze snaps up to yours, so wide and vulnerable.
You reach down, your thumb grazing over his lips to wipe the remnants of your pleasure, and he lets out a choked sound when you touch him.
"Shh..." You coo, leaning forward until your breasts brush his chest, your nipples grazing against his skin.
"I'm going to be so careful with you. I promise."
When you finally lower yourself down, the way he gasps a broken, shattered sound that rips straight through your chest is almost enough to make you stop.
But you don't.
You sink down slowly, agonizingly slow, taking him in inch by inch.
You watch his eyes pull open before screwing shut the next second, his head falling back into the pillows as you fill yourself completely. You can feel his hands hovering just above your waist, trembling, wanting to grab you but terrified to do so.
"That's it..." You moan, your voice thick with the pleasure he's giving you.
"Oh Aang...you feel so good."
You start to move, but it's not fast. No matter how desperate you were, you do not pick up your pace.
You move slow, grinding back and forth on him.
You're taking your time, riding him with a languid motion that forces him to feel every single corner of you. You lean forward and whisper in his ear.
"Tell me what you want me to do, Aang. Tell me how you want me."
"I..." He swallows hard, his hands finally coming to rest on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with a desperation that makes your smile.
"I want you to...just like that. Please." His sentence was incomplete, but you understood plenty.
You let out a throaty moan, arching your back as you grind down on him, your moans getting louder, more shameless.
You want him to hear it. You want him to hear exactly what he's doing to you. You press your palms flat against his chest, feeling his heart hammering like a trapped bird beneath your touch.
"You're so beautiful..." You whisper, your voice trembling with genuine awe as your eyes brim with tears.
"My perfect, beautiful Aang."
The way he says your name after, in that broken, wrecked manner is when you know you've really done it.
You've broken him open.
And as you find your rhythm, as you ride him with the motive to give him that devastating pleasure, you know you're never letting him go.
You lean forward, as you press your chest against his, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Your fingers find your own aching heat, working in a rhythmic counterpoint.
Aang is completely lost now, his head lolling back, his throat working around a broken moan as you guide him toward the edge.
"Aang..." You whisper against his skin, your breath hot making him shudder. You pull back, looking at him softly as you ghost your lips over his.
"I need you to...I need you to let go. Just like that. For me."
His fingers press into your waist with strength.
His eyes find yours, and for a moment, you finally see it.
The moment he decides to stop fighting.
When it happens, it's so beautiful.
You feel his entire body seize beneath you, his hips arching off the mattress as he finally breaks.
You don't even flinch when he gasps your name with a sob, pressing yourself down hard, grinding against him, ensuring every single drop of him is claimed.
You take it all, swallowing his release with a greedy, possessive whimper, your own orgasm crashing over you in that leaves you trembling.
You stay there for a long time, collapsed against his chest, listening to the frantic, uneven thudding of his heart.
You can feel the warmth of him still inside you, a thrumming weight that makes your stomach flip with triumph.
Slowly, you pull back. His eyes are still blown wide, staring at the ceiling with a look of complete, hollowed out shock.
He's breathing hard, his skin flushed, the arrow on his head a stark against his pale skin.
He looks utterly shattered, completely undone by you.
"Aang?" you whisper, your voice innocent.
He doesn't answer. He just lies there, staring, still taking long inhales through his nose.
You know exactly what you've done.
You've crossed a line he can never uncross.
You've claimed him in the most irreversible way, and you did it while making him think it was his choice.
"Oh, Aang..." You murmur, your hand coming up to stroke his cheek, your thumb tracing the curve of his lower lip.
"You were so good. So perfect."
His eyelashes flutter, and for a moment, you think he might cry. Then, his hand moves slow, hesitant and rests against your thigh. It's not a push away. It's still there.
“Weren’t you…supposed to…move?” he managed to choke out eventually, his eyes searching yours while you stared back at him in confusion.
For a moment, you genuinely had no idea what he meant.
So you simply waited for him to explain himself.
Except he never actually said it.
Instead, his attention dropped lower, landing where your bodies were still pressed together intimately, and realization hit you almost instantly.
You giggle, lowering your chest to his, as you hold him.
"I wanted it." You confess softly, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to his temple.
"I wanted you. All of you."
You stay there, wrapped around him, waiting.
Waiting for the moment he realizes he can't go back.
Waiting for the moment he accepts he's yours.
And as you feel him exhale, a long, shuddering breath that dissolves into that of relief, you know.
You've already won.
Months later, sometimes you still thought about the look on Katara's face when you and Aang announced not only that you were together, but that the wedding would follow two months later.
You had not enjoyed it.
That was perhaps the cruelest part of all this.
Beneath the jealousy, the selfishness, beneath the quiet satisfaction curling inside your chest, Katara had still been your friend.
The sight of her standing there so perfectly composed while grief leaked through the cracks of her face had filled you with immediate guilt.
But guilt did not undo anything.
She had her chance, and she let it pass her by with trembling hands and too much hesitation.
You had been offered the very same thing only once, and you had taken it without allowing yourself enough time to think twice.
That alone had decided everything.
It did not matter now anyway.
The damage had already settled itself between all of you.
You still saw them, of course.
Toph remained unchanged, thankfully immune to awkwardness, still insulting you with the same affection she always had.
Zuko treated everything with neutrality, though every now and then you would catch the faintest exhaustion in his eyes whenever tension filled the room for too long.
But Sokka had grown quieter around both of you, his easy laughter no longer arriving naturally, while Suki watched situations unfold with patience, refusing to interfere.
And Katara—
Katara tried.
Spirits, she really tried.
Yet there was only so much grace a person could carry before it started collapsing under its own weight.
The worst part was that none of them even lived in Republic City anymore except for her.
Despite it, you moved to the city.
You had promised Aang you would, and unlike everyone else, you never made promises to him you did not intend to keep.
The pregnancy had complicated things almost immediately.
Explaining why your stomach had already begun rounding before the wedding was difficult enough, though the true horror came when four months into your marriage you could no longer disguise it beneath layered robes and loose fabric.
People counted months cruelly.
Especially your own friends.
Still, none of them said anything directly.
Not even Katara.
Marriage itself settled around you strangely fast.
Domestic life came naturally, and it unexpected how easily your fell into it.
Slipping into place piece by piece until you could no longer imagine waking without Aang somewhere nearby.
Though 'nearby' often meant temporary.
He was gone more than he was home, forever chasing disasters across nations, disappearing on Appa before sunrise whenever the duties of the Avatar demanded him elsewhere.
Sometimes he would return exhausted enough to barely stay awake through dinner before collapsing beside you still half dressed.
Other nights he came home restless, carrying the weight of too many people needing too much from him all at once.
But whenever he was home, he loved you openly.
That was what mattered most.
By the seventh month of your pregnancy, Aang had developed the habit of kneeling in front of you every evening, pressing his ear against your stomach with complete seriousness while the twins shifted violently beneath your skin.
"They're arguing again." He would say thoughtfully.
You laughed every single time.
"They are not arguing."
"They definitely are. This one keeps kicking the other."
"They must have inherited your inability to sit still."
Aang only grinned before pressing another kiss against your stomach, completely unbothered by your jokes.
He was convinced both babies would be girls.
You remained certain one would be a boy.
Neither of you won.
The labor lasted nearly an entire night, leaving you exhausted beyond reason by the time the twins finally arrived screaming into the world shortly before dawn.
You gave birth to two boys.
Two impossibly tiny boys with lungs strong enough to wake half the district.
Aang cried harder than either of them did.
You would remember that forever.
The sight of him sitting beside you with one baby clutched awkwardly against his chest while the other rested in your arms, tears slipping down his face faster than he could wipe them away.
You knew he was overwhelmed by something too enormous to fit inside him.
They looked more like him than you from the very beginning.
Those very grey eyes. His nose. Their pale skin that scrunched impossibly whenever they cried too hard.
You could feel it already, that they would be very powerful.
He held those boys carefully, almost fearfully, as though he could not quite believe they were real.
Months later, late at night. you would often find yourself curled against Aang’s side in bed while the twins slept against his chest, tiny bodies rising and falling steadily.
Something deep in Aang seemed to settle whenever the twins were in his arms. The sight softened something deep inside him every single time.
“What’s wrong?” You asked once after catching him staring at them for far too long, distant thoughts clouding his face while one of the babies slept soundly beneath his chin.
Aang blinked before smiling faintly.
“Nothing.”
You leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss against his shoulder before settling back into his side again, one hand moving instinctively to pat the back of the baby resting on his chest while Aang carefully adjusted the other higher against him.
Then, after a while, his hand drifted absentmindedly toward one of the twins, fingertips brushing softly through the wisps of hair on his head just as a tiny gust of air stirred weakly around the tiny blankets.
The movement was small, but it made you go completely still.
Because suddenly, you understood.
After all, you had not simply become his wife.
You had become the future of the Air Nomads.
The only future left.
a/n: i laughed OUT LOUD on many occasions as i was editing it. but i still like it very much. so, i will sit in my shame like the clown that i am.
when FIRELORD ZUKO takes a liking to AVATAR AANG'S mysterious new BRIDE.
TORN BETWEEN TWO ROADS ! — aang x reader x zuko
PLOT. republic city is finally at peace, and for once, katara allows herself to hope—maybe now, after everything, she and aang can finally become something real. but when aang returns after eight months, he isn’t alone. he comes back with you at his side, introducing you as his wife. suspicious yet helpless, his friends do their best to welcome you, even as nothing about this sudden marriage makes sense. but while everyone else keeps their distance, one person doesn’t. and perhaps Zuko gets a little too comfortable with the avatar’s new wife.
CHARACTERS. AANG and ZUKO.
CHAPTER WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, angst, implied sexual assault, fight with zuko, zuko is kind of a prick ngl, protective aang, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.
(please check the story masterlist for the story warnings.)
WC. 5.3k
masterlist : story masterlist
chapter four
a/n: why do i feel like i am rushing the story?
p.s. since this was originally part of the previous chapter and i ended up having to split it, i completely forgot to mention in the chapter before that it has been two days since the reader arrived in the fire nation. this is a direct continuation.
You barely remembered Aang leaving that morning.
The memory lingered in pieces, the warmth of his lips against your forehead before dawn, before he inevitably left.
By the time you had properly risen from bed, the palace was already devoid of his presence, leaving behind only the faint scent of incense that always seemed to cling to him.
So, by afternoon, you found yourself wandering.
The Fire Nation Palace had begun to feel less overwhelming over the past three days, though you still occasionally lost your way amongst its endless corridors and towering halls.
Servants moved carefully around you, trying not to subject themselves to possibly offending the Avatar.
Soldiers stood guard beneath banners adorned with crimson and gold, and the heat of the nation bled through the open architecture of the palace itself, keeping true to the Nation's title.
Your steps eventually carried you toward one of the larger balconies overlooking the capital.
And there he stood.
After your arrival, you had to come clean to Aang about your interaction with Zuko. You hadn't seen the Firelord since, and you had been hesitant to question Aang about it.
Zuko remained near the railing with his hands folded behind his back, his gaze fixed upon the nation stretched before him.
The afternoon light cast itself across the sharp lines of his face, catching against the scar along his left eye while the wind stirred the ends of his robes faintly behind him.
For a brief moment, you considered turning around.
But he had already noticed you.
"Good afternoon," he greeted, his voice surprisingly loud for how calmly he said it.
You bit your tongue, knowing you had no way around it anymore.
"Good afternoon, Fire Lord Zuko," you returned eventually, approaching with measured steps.
His attention shifted fully toward you, though his posture remained unchanged, carrying the authority he so obviously had.
There was still undeniable tension lingering between you both after your argument aboard the ship, hiding beneath the polite exchange.
Zuko broke the silence first.
"I trust your stay within the palace has been pleasant thus far?" he asked. "It has been three days already."
You moved to stand beside him, leaving enough distance between you to remain proper as your looked upon the view below.
"It has been well," you answered politely. "Thank you for your hospitality."
Zuko hummed quietly at that.
"It seems," he began after a pause, "you informed Aang about our...interaction."
Your expression nearly faltered.
So Aang had spoken to him after all.
You had not known whether he would, nor had Aang shared anything regarding whatever conversation followed afterward.
The realization unsettled, and you resisted the instinctive tension threatening to surface across your face, drawing yourself subtly straighter beside him instead while your hands folded neatly before you.
"My intention was never to offend you," he said at last, his tone stripped of it's usual sharp edge.
"I am aware my words overstepped, and I am very sorry they caused you hurt."
The apology settled awkwardly between you, leaving you unsure on how to respond.
You felt embarrassingly childish, standing there knowing you had confessed the entirety of your disagreement to Aang the moment you arrived at the palace.
It reminded you far too much of a child tattling on their bullies' parents, having to face a confrontation later.
You composed yourself quickly, each movement measured carefully to preserve what remained of your dignity despite the embarrassment steadily tightening within your chest.
"Thank you," you replied softly. "I appreciate the apology."
Your fingers folded neatly over the railings before you as your head lowered briefly.
"And I must apologize as well," you admitted after a moment. "It appears I have become the reason behind your difficulty in trusting your own friend."
Zuko's brows furrowed faintly.
"There is no need for you to apologize," he answered immediately.
"The fault lies with me. It is I who failed to trust Aang's decisions."
You nodded quietly at his words.
Another silence followed afterward, though this one felt less suffocating than before, neither of you quite willing to speak further yet you no longer carried the same urge to leave his presence.
Then Zuko broke it once more.
"There is something else I would like to apologize for."
Your brows furrowed faintly.
"What for?"
For the first time since you had arrived, hesitation crossed his face properly, as his jaw tightened briefly before he answered.
"That night," he began carefully, "at Katara's home...I overheard part of your conversation with Aang."
Your eyes snapped toward him instantly and he did little avoid your gaze.
"I had gone to return his emblem," he continued evenly.
"I did not intend to intrude, but by the time I realized what I had walked into..." His expression hardened slightly at himself.
"I remained long enough to hear more than I should have."
You stared at him for a moment, very stunned by the confession itself but also by the fact that he had admitted it to you.
If it had been you, you would taken it to the grave.
"How much did you hear?" you asked quietly.
Zuko exhaled through his nose, leaning slightly against the railing beside him.
"I could not tell you how much was spoken," he admitted. "Only that I heard enough to understand very little."
He turned, facing away from you as he spoke.
"In truth, the more I seem to learn about you, the less I understand."
There was no mockery in his statement, only honesty as you lowered your eyes briefly, fingers folding together.
"I understand your concern for Aang," you said after a moment.
"I appeared rather suddenly in all of your lives, and in doing so, I seem to have complicated matters that existed long before me." Your voice softened slightly at the next words.
"Especially between Aang and Katara."
Zuko remained silent, allowing you to continue.
"But Aang loves me," you finished quietly, not leaving any room to object your statement.
At that, Zuko nodded once.
"Yes," he said simply. "He does."
The answer is earnest.
"And if it offers you any reassurance," he continued, "from what I have observed, Aang and Katara do share a long history together, but it remains precisely that. History."
His gaze held yours steadily. "And if you still seek an answer to the fears you carried that night, then no, I do not believe Aang would ever betray you."
"I know he will not," you confirmed, and the firmness in your voice surprised even yourself.
"But...that is not my greatest concern."
Zuko studied you carefully then.
"Then what is?"
The question settled heavier, realizing you had opened another gate for a topic you shouldn't be discussing with him.
Your eyes drifted from him once more, deciding to speak on it anyway.
"I have always feared," you admitted slowly, "that one day he may regret it."
Your throat tightened slightly around the next words.
"Regret me."
Zuko's brows pulled together, recalling Aang's words from that fated night.
"Was he not the one who asked you to marry him?"
"Yes," you replied softly. "But the circumstances of our marriage were...unorthodox."
You chose the word carefully, careful enough not to reveal too much.
Zuko noticed regardless.
"How so?" he asked quietly.
You paused for a long moment after his question, your fingers curling slightly against the railing beneath your hands.
Then, quietly, you confessed.
"I was meant to marry the crown prince of my nation."
Zuko, despite the barrel of questions pouring in his mind, does not interrupt you.
For once, he remained entirely silent, understanding instinctively that this was the first genuine glimpse into your past you had willingly offered him.
"It had always been decided," you continued.
"My father served as the king's advisor for most of his life. And when the crown prince and I were born on the very same day, my father believed it to be fate." A faint smile touched your lips, but it carried little to no amusement.
"Eventually, he convinced the king of the same."
The wind swept past the balcony again, carrying the warmth of the afternoon.
"The prince and I..." You hesitated briefly, choosing your phrasing carefully. "We were acquaintances, nothing more. I could never truly call him my friend."
You let out a sigh, coming to terms with the fact you were actively sharing your history with Aang's friend.
"In truth, I do not believe he considered me one either."
Zuko watched you quietly.
"We rarely saw one another despite growing up together," you admitted.
"But it did not matter. From the moment we were born, everyone around us already knew that our futures will be united," Your fingers tightened even further against the railing.
"So we simply accepted it."
Then you fell silent entirely.
Zuko's gaze lingered on you, before he finally asked the question he had been waiting to speak.
"What changed?"
You remained still, your attention drifting upward toward the open sky stretching endlessly beyond the palace walls.
"Then," you said softly, turning your head just enough to glance at him, "Aang arrived."
Something in Zuko's expression shifted faintly, only growing more curious by the second.
"And you fell in love?" He asked carefully,
The laugh that escaped you caught him entirely off guard.
"Spirits, no!" you replied immediately, amusement finally alive in your voice.
"What exactly do you take me for, Fire Lord Zuko?"
One of his brows lifted slightly.
You shook your head softly, the remnants of your laughter fading.
"Perhaps had I not already been betrothed, I might have understood what people describe as love at first sight." You admitted after a moment.
Zuko's attention sharpened immediately.
"Then why?" he pressed again, the careful mask of indifference beginning to fracture at last beneath his growing curiosity.
You looked back toward him then, a small smile lingering upon your lips.
"Tell me something, Fire Lord," you began softly.
"Between a king and the Avatar, who do you believe commands greater authority over the world?"
The question seemed to catch him off guard entirely.
Zuko's brows furrowed faintly, as though he were attempting to understand where exactly you intended to lead him.
Still, after a brief pause, he answered honestly.
"A king."
"I believed so as well," you admitted.
"After all, the Avatar possesses no royal standing. The Avatar exists to preserve balance, to remain impartial above all else."
Your fingers traced absent patterns against the railing, running your nails across the carvings.
"A king commands nations. The Avatar merely guides them."
You paused for a clock's tick before continuing.
"But answer one more question for me." Your eyes gaining yet another glint of interest.
"If the Avatar stood to your right, and The King of..." You trailed off, looking away in thought before you continue.
"...The King of the entire world, supposedly, stood to your left..." Your smile deepened slightly.
"Which direction would your eyes turn to?"
The question lingered between you both.
Zuko inhaled slowly through his nose, and despite already knowing the answer, he still found himself considering it properly, turning the thought over in his mind before responding.
"...Right." he admitted at last.
Your smile widened in approval.
Zuko exhaled quietly, realization settling over him piece by piece as he turned his face away.
"So," he said slowly, "your father convinced Aang to marry you."
"You catch on rather quickly," you mused, confirming his statement.
A faint huff escaped him, not entirely convinced.
"But Aang is not someone who would agree to it." Zuko replied, looking back toward you now.
"Especially not regarding something of this matter." His eyes narrowed. "How exactly did your father convince him?"
"He did not," you answered softly, shutting down Zuko's trail of thoughts.
"I did."
The confession struck him immediately, his head turning toward you fully now, disbelief flashing openly across his face for the first time since this conversation began.
"How?" he asked at once.
You did not answer him.
Instead, you tilted your head slightly, your gaze settling on him.
"Do you have a sister, Zuko?"
The question caught him entirely off guard.
His face morphed and something solemn crossed his features, his posture stiffening despite the obvious effort to conceal whatever memory your question had stirred.
You noticed it instantly.
"Oh," you murmured. "My apologies. Have I touched upon a sensitive matter?"
Zuko exhaled quietly through his nose before answering.
"No," he replied after a moment. "It is alright. I...do have a sister."
You nodded, choosing not to prod it the matter just yet.
"Then surely, as royalty, you already know the answer to what I am about to ask."
Zuko's attention narrowed down to your next words.
"If a woman of noble or royal standing were to become intimate before marriage," you said carefully—
"would a future king still choose to marry her?"
Maybe it took him a second, perhaps two, but the understanding struck him soon enough.
Zuko's eyes widened faintly as he turned completely toward you now, his body shifting as disbelief settled into his expression.
"Aang would never..." he whispered, the words leaving him almost involuntarily.
You smiled at that, and it was not bitter. If anything, it seemed strangely fond.
"You are correct," you replied quietly.
"Aang would never." Your gaze held his steadily.
"He had Katara, after all."
The statement, though quietly said, rang loud between them, filling the gaps of what Zuko could not.
You were waiting for some semblance of a comment, but none came, so you looked away first.
"My feet have begun to ache," you said, smoothing your hands along the fabric at your sides.
"I shall go rest now." You inclined your head politely.
"Good day, Lord Zuko—"
You had barely turned before his hand closed around your wrist, the force of it startling you entirely.
Pain shot sharply through your arm as your breath caught, instinctively trying to pull yourself free from his grip, but his hold remained firm.
"Did you..." His voice faltered once, entirely unsure how he could even go about asking his question.
He formed the words slowly in his mind, but when they left him, they were laced with his disbelief.
"Did you force yourself upon him?"
You froze.
The accusation struck harder than his grip ever could, halting your faint struggle against him.
The shock on your face was immediate, your expression falling apart so suddenly it seemed you could not even comprehend the words that had just been spoken to you.
You lifted your eyes toward him.
"Unhand me," you whispered plainly.
After a moment, he did. The second his fingers released your wrist, you stepped back from him, staring in utter shock before something entirely unexpected escaped you.
A laugh.
It was faint at first, as if you were trying to suppress it beneath your lungs.
But then another followed, your hand rising quickly to cover your mouth while your shoulders trembled beneath the sound.
Zuko stood frozen before you, caught between confusion and rage.
"What is so amusing?" He asked slowly, observing how you pressed the bridge of your nose, much like Aang had done.
"You!" you answered through the remnants of your laughter, lowering your hand slightly as tears gathered painfully in your eyes.
"It's amusing how easily you throw around such statements." You shook your head faintly.
"At least Sokka merely believed me status-hungry. Even that is kinder than the vile accusation you just made."
"I was not accusing you—"
"You were," you cut him off immediately. "And you did so without hesitation."
The humor vanished from your face entirely then.
"You are pathetic, Lord Zuko," you whispered, the hurt in your voice far louder than your anger could have ever been.
"You spoke those words so easily without once considering how heavily they might weigh upon me."
Only then did he properly notice the tears, realizing he completely misjudged the situation.
Regret struck his face instantly.
"I am sorry—"
"Forget it," you interrupted sharply, already turning away from him.
"I cannot even disguise this as your concern for Aang anymore." You stated as you walked away from him.
Your pace quickened across the corridor, hurt and humiliation burning through you.
"For you to stoop so low..." Your throat tightened around the next words. "It was...unexpected."
Zuko followed after you immediately.
"Please!" he called after you, urgency finally breaking through his facade, "Allow me to apologize."
"No!"
You turned around so abruptly that he stopped mere inches away from you, the closeness sudden enough to steal the breath from him entirely.
Your eyes glistened as you looked up at him, wounded frustration pulling harshly at the muscles of your face.
"Why must every conversation of ours begin with an apology and end in an argument?" You asked quietly.
For once, Zuko had no answer.
But his hands lifted instinctively, settling carefully on your shoulders in an attempt to steady both you and the conversation unraveling between you.
"I am sorry," he said again, the words stripped entirely of pride.
"I swear to you, I never intended to hurt you." He inclined his head, not trying to avoid your gaze but doing so anyway.
"I was worried for my friend, and I allowed that concern to cloud my judgment."
You said nothing.
You only stared at him with that same wounded frown, your silence far harsher than anger.
Then, after a long moment, your voice finally returned you.
"Please let me go," you murmured tiredly. "I wish to rest."
And this time, Zuko listened.
His hands fell away from your shoulders immediately, giving you space to turn around and disappear down the corridor alone.
The meeting had dragged on far longer than Aang had anticipated.
By the time he entered the throne room later that afternoon, you had already been settled into your temporary room within the palace.
He had stayed with you longer than he should have, making certain you had bathed after spending some time beneath the sheets together.
He made sure you had eaten properly, and that you were comfortable as the afternoon sleep finally took you, visibly tired from your journey.
Only then had he forced himself away.
And now, seated within the throne room amongst ministers, generals, and advisors of the Fire Nation court, Aang found his thoughts nowhere near the matters being discussed before him.
Usually, his presence within political meetings carried a certain lightness to it, an ease that often softened the stiffness of royal proceedings.
Even during disagreements, there remained something breezy about him, an openness that made people forget, if only briefly, that they sat in the presence of the Avatar.
Today, that ease was absent.
His posture remained straight throughout the entirety of the meeting, his expression unreadable, responses short and precise whenever his input was requested.
The shift in demeanor had not gone unnoticed either, several members of the court exchanging uncertain glances whenever any matter settled too long on him.
Even Zuko had noticed.
From atop the elevated throne platform, the Fire Lord's eyes drifted toward Aang more than once during the meeting, sensing something unsettled beneath the stillness he wore.
So when the final matter concluded and Aang spoke before anyone else could rise—
"Leave us."
—the entire room had fallen silent.
No one moved at first.
The command had not come from the Fire Lord.
A few uncertain gazes shifted toward Zuko instead, waiting for correction or dismissal, because at the end of the day, regardless of the Avatar's status, this remained the throne room of the Fire Nation.
Zuko studied Aang, watchful of the serious glint that showed beneath his friend's face.
Without question, Zuko inclined his head slightly toward the Grand Chamberlain.
The older man understood immediately.
"The meeting is adjourned," he announced loudly.
One by one, the members of the court began filing out of the throne room, robes sweeping across the floor while quick footsteps echoed beneath the towering ceilings.
The massive doors eventually closed behind the last remaining council member, the sound reverberating through the now empty hall.
Zuko finally rose from his place.
The elevated dais placed him high above everyone who entered the room, an intentional symbol of authority inherited through generations of Fire Lords.
From below, he appeared untouchable seated there, distant in both power and stature.
Yet now he descended the side steps without ceremony, his robes shifting behind him as he approached Aang directly, concern settled into his features almost immediately.
"What is it you wish to discuss?" he asked, voice loud and clear now within the emptiness of the throne room.
He doesn't receive an answer from the Avatar.
His brows furrowed faintly.
"You seem distressed. Is your wife dissatisfied with her chambers?"
Aang said nothing once more as he remained standing in the very center of the room, unmoving beneath Zuko's gaze.
Zuko slowed slightly near the final step.
"You had the court dismissed. What is this about, Aang?" he asked again, confusion beginning to edge into his voice.
Aang finally looked at him properly then.
"What was your real reason for bringing my wife here?"
Zuko stopped mid-step, his expression tightening faintly as he stood directly before Aang. He searched his face briefly, trying to determine how much exactly had been said.
"What do you mean?" he asked carefully.
Aang did not waver.
"Were you genuinely trying to help me," he asked bluntly, "or did you bring her here to investigate her?"
The Fire Lord was speechless; the frightening part was how accurate the accusation truly was.
Zuko felt the realization strike immediately, though years of royal composure kept it from reaching his face fully. But, beneath the surface, something unpleasant twisted sharply in his chest.
Not fear of confrontation.
Not fear of punishment.
Fear of disappointing.
It was an old feeling, one Zuko despised for how easily it returned whenever Aang looked at him like this.
Once, years ago, he had chased the twelve-year-old boy across the world in desperate pursuit of stolen honor, reducing the Avatar to nothing more than a target he believed might fix his broken life.
And even after all these years, even after friendship and forgiveness and peace, part of him still feared becoming that person again in Aang's eyes.
So he lied.
"Aang," he began steadily, "what would make you think such a thing? That was never my intention."
Aang's expression hardened faintly.
"It felt intentional when you questioned my wife about our marriage." Aang was agitated now, visibly trying to slow he thoughts down before saying the next words.
"Even more so when you lied and misled her after she answered you honestly."
Zuko folded his arms loosely across his chest.
"We were having a conversation," he replied. "One your wife initiated after entering my study."
"From what I heard," Aang countered immediately, "she was ready to leave. You were the one who stopped her."
"She appeared restless," Zuko answered. "I merely offered her tea."
"And with the tea," Aang countered coldly, "you offered to discuss Katara."
Zuko stared at Aang.
You truly had hidden nothing from your husband.
For some reason, Zuko had assumed you would omit certain details, particularly the conversation surrounding the Water Tribe girl.
Yet instead, you had recounted the interaction in full, trusting Aang enough to leave nothing concealed between you.
The realization settled, understanding that he underestimated your bond with Aang.
"Your wife was the one who asked about it," Zuko replied at last. "And out of respect for both you and Katara, I chose not to speak on it."
"That only made things worse!"
Aang's voice rose slightly then, frustration finally slipping through the restraint he had maintained since entering the throne room.
The sound echoed sharply through the empty hall before he abruptly stepped back, shutting his eyes as his fingers came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, likely stopping himself from openly speaking of the insecurities you try to hide from him.
The gesture was familiar to Zuko. Aang would often do so whenever he was forcing himself not to say something harsher.
Zuko liked to think it was something the Avatar had picked up from him.
Aang exhaled as he lowered his hand.
"Zuko," he began, "I don't want to drag this out. I'm not here to fight with you."
Despite trying to remain calm with his words, Aang looked at Zuko dead in the eyes, telling a different story altogether.
"Just...don't meddle in my marriage."
"I never intended to—"
"You keep saying that," Aang interrupted, seemingly fed up with everything, "but right now I'm having a hard time believing you."
The words struck Zuko hard.
"Please," Aang continued, "don't turn against my wife just because you don't know her."
Zuko said nothing.
There was very little he could say.
"I'm the one who brought her here," Aang went on.
"If you have questions, ask me."
Perhaps the statement was genuine permission. Perhaps Aang truly would have answered whatever Zuko wished to know in this moment.
But something told him pressing further would only worsen matters.
So Zuko straightened himself instead and answered with the composure expected of a Fire Lord.
"I have no questions, Aang. It is an honor to extend my hospitality to both you and your wife."
Some of the tension in Aang's shoulders eased at that.
"Thank you."
And with that, he turned away.
His footsteps echoed through the empty throne room as he headed toward the doors, the guards outside already shifting in preparation to open them for the Avatar's departure.
Yet just before the doors parted, Aang stopped.
Without fully turning back, he tilted his head slightly for his voice to carry clearly across the room.
"If I hear you've spoken to her again," he said quietly, "it better be to apologize."
Then, before Zuko could answer, the doors opened, and Aang walked out.
Zuko could not sleep.
The palace had grow quiet, the halls outside his chambers empty save for the occasional shift of guards changing posts, yet sleep refused to claim him no matter how still he remained beneath the covers.
He had continued through the rest of the day despite the fight he had with you, burying himself beneath reports, meetings, and discussions in hopes that duty might silence the thoughts plaguing him.
It had not worked.
Now, with darkness stretched across room, he found himself replaying every word spoken between you both on the balcony earlier that afternoon.
And every time he reached the end of the memory, it only worsened.
Not only had he failed to offer the proper apology Aang had all but demanded of him days prior, he had managed to turn the conversation into something far uglier.
The worst part was that he had not even realized the severity of his words until he saw your face fall apart before him.
Zuko shut his eyes, exhaling through his nose before opening them again to stare upward.
The darkness above him became a canvas for recollection, his mind returning once again to the fragments of your conversation.
"If a woman of noble or royal standing were to become intimate before marriage, would a future king still choose to marry her?"
He understood more now.
Your previous engagement had ended because of intimacy before marriage. That part had become painfully obvious the moment you revealed the existence of the crown prince.
"Aang would never..."
"You are correct. Aang would never. He had Katara, after all."
Zuko pressed back against the pillow beneath his head.
He had misunderstood you entirely.
At first, he had believed your words implied Aang's refusal came solely from loyalty to Katara, yet the more he replayed the conversation now, the more flawed that assumption became.
Because Zuko knew Aang.
He knew his values, the vows Air Nomads upheld, and that his discipline had been rooted into him since childhood.
Aang would never dishonor a woman in such a manner, regardless of Katara's existence.
You no longer sounded accusatory.
You were bitter. Hurt even
Then came the memory he regretted most.
"Did you force yourself upon him?"
Zuko shut his eyes again immediately, shame twisting sharply through his chest.
Spirits.
The answer had been right in front of him the entire time.
Whatever happened between you and your former betrothed had not been your choice.
That was why your engagement collapsed.
That was why honor weighed so heavily upon you.
That was why the accusation had shattered you so completely.
And instead of understanding, he had cornered you with the cruelest conclusion possible simply because he could not make sense of where Aang fit within the story.
So he had grasped onto the first explanation that seemed logical and hurled it toward you without thought.
The memory of your breakdown made his stomach twinge with guilt.
He should have known better.
While Zuko spent the night trapped within the unrest of his own thoughts, you had finally managed to find sleep.
The night was still early, but the hurt left behind by your argument had exhausted you more than you realized.
And after hours spent curled beneath the blankets, wishing for Aang's return, your mind had eventually surrendered to slumber.
The palace had remained quiet then, the distant crackle of torches outside your chambers blending into the stillness of the night until everything faded into unconsciousness.
You did not remember what you had been dreaming about when you woke.
Only noise.
It reached you faintly at first, enough for your dreams to blur into confusion while sleep still clung heavily to your senses.
Somewhere beyond the walls of your chambers, voices rang through the halls accompanied by hurried footsteps and the metallic clash of armor.
Your brows furrowed as your eyes slowly opened.
Another shout echoed through the distance.
Then another.
You pushed yourself upright immediately, the blankets slipping from your body while your heart began beating faster without fully understanding why.
The room remained dark save for the pale wash of moonlight slipping through the heavy curtains, and in your disorientation, you could only sit there listening as the commotion outside grew louder by the second.
You still could not make out the words.
Your fingers fumbled for the robe resting near the edge of the mattress, quickly pulling the thin fabric around yourself before tying it shut with clumsy hands.
The chill in the room suddenly felt unbearable, as you slowly got off the mattress and made your way towards the door.
Then came the scream that shattered through the corridor clearly enough for you to finally understand.
"Attack! Attack on the palace!"
You hadn't misheard. The statement was undeniable.
Every thought in your mind vanished.
You stepped back so abruptly, you almost lost your balance, panic flooding through your chest while your eyes darted around your chambers.
What were you meant to do?
Leave the room?
Remain hidden?
Find guards?
Your pulse hammered painfully while another wave of shouting erupted somewhere beyond in the palace, followed by the unmistakable sound of guards running.
You could not bring yourself to open the doors blindly.
Not without knowing what waited beyond them.
So instead, you hurried toward the windows at the far side of the room, your bare feet slipping slightly against polished floors as you reached for the thick cord holding the curtains shut.
Your hands trembled while pulling it.
The curtains slowly lifted upward with each tug, moonlight spilling wider into the chambers inch by inch.
At first, you saw as smoke curled upward from somewhere within the palace grounds.
Then, the fire caught your eye, orange light flickering violently against the night sky.
And then you saw it.
Something enormous burned through the darkness toward the palace itself.
Your breath caught instantly.
It resembled the sun more than fire, a massive sphere of blazing orange and gold tearing across the sky with terrifying speed, growing larger with every passing second until you realized—
It was coming directly toward you.
The cord slipped from your fingers as your body froze.
The curtains collapsed shut immediately, swallowing the room back into darkness while panic seized your entire body.
You turned and ran.
But before you could barely reach past the bed, the world behind you erupted.
The impact crashed through the chambers with catastrophic force, glass exploding outward while heat and destruction tore through the room in an instant.
chapter six coming soon...
a/n: I will just straight up say that i have projected myself onto zuko's character in my fic (NOT IN THIS CHAPTER), it will make sense in the future chapters and i may even explain it when the time comes. whatever happens with zuko going forward...everyone will not understand it, but i will explain my perspective on it, rest assured.
[taglist open] (please mention under the latest chapter or the story masterlist)
when FIRELORD ZUKO takes a liking to AVATAR AANG'S mysterious new BRIDE.
TORN BETWEEN TWO ROADS ! — aang x reader x zuko
LOT. republic city is finally at peace, and for once, katara allows herself to hope—maybe now, after everything, she and aang can finally become something real. but when aang returns after eight months, he isn’t alone. he comes back with you at his side, introducing you as his wife. suspicious yet helpless, his friends do their best to welcome you, even as nothing about this sudden marriage makes sense. but while everyone else keeps their distance, one person doesn’t. and perhaps Zuko gets a little too comfortable with the avatar’s new wife.
CHARACTERS. AANG and ZUKO.
CHAPTER WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, angst, some 'arguing' with zuko, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.
(please check the story masterlist for the story warnings.)
WC. 7.2k
masterlist : story masterlist
chapter two
a/n: i read this chapter on my phone last night before going to sleep, and i made so many corrections in my head, but now i just can't seem to remember them. it sucks, cause my brain was working so well too.
It had been a month since you had last seen Aang.
Initially, he had planned to leave with Zuko once his week-long stay in Republic City came to an end. Yet, his plans had changed, and instead of leaving, he had stayed to help you get accustomed to life in Republic City, something he too was learning quite slowly, since he was never able to stay long, even at his own home.
So for the two whole weeks he was with you, those extra days had been spent entirely with you, exploring everything you both could.
And while the days had belonged to the city, the nights had belonged to each other, spent under the sheets.
One by one, the others had begun to leave.
Zuko had been the first, called back to the Fire Nation, being the busy Fire Lord he is. Toph had followed soon after, returning to the Earth Kingdom the very next day with little ceremony.
Sokka had remained longer, and Aang had been there when he had apologized to you.
His apology had been straightforward; there had been no attempt to soften it as he came clean about the things he had said, and though the words had been direct, even sincere, they had not been easy to hear.
You had accepted them nonetheless, understanding where they had come from, and because of that, forgiveness had come easier than you had expected.
Your heart, however, had not followed as quickly; something in it still holding onto the weight of what had been said, even if you had let it pass.
Sokka had noticed.
It had shown in the way he avoided your gaze in the days that followed, as if he knew some things could not be undone so easily.
Days later, he too left for the Southern Water Tribe.
And then, Aang had left as well.
The departure had been inevitable, though that had not made it easier. You had been left alone in this unfamiliar place that you now called your home.
Days passed in slow repetition, your time spent within the walls of a home that still felt unfamiliar despite being yours, your routine built out of small tasks meant to fill the hours that stretched forever and ever.
Republic City remained what it had always been, but none of it reached you in the way it had when he was there beside you.
It had been six weeks since you had arrived in the city, and in that time, you had tried, in your own way, to reach outward.
You had sought out Katara.
She had been the only one who lived in the city, her time divided between its development and the people. Your conversations had been polite, never unpleasant, yet always riddled with awkwardness.
You couldn't tell who was to blame for it, but a part of you suspected that she knew.
She knew that you were aware of what had once existed between her and your husband. And perhaps that awareness had made its way into your own actions, into the way you observed her, trying to understand what had once drawn Aang so completely toward her.
You found yourself understanding more than you expected to.
You saw her in the city, watching the way people turned to her with trust, the quiet recognition she received for the work she did, her gentle yet fierce presence both warm and reassuring.
She stood not only as someone close to the Avatar, but as someone who had earned her place beside him, being the most loyal aid to the Avatar in his absence.
And in comparison, you felt—
Lacking.
You hadn't been able to help the feeling of incompetence wash over you whenever you noticed her, wondering if you had some talent to your name, maybe you could have been with Aang, aiding him has well.
But you knew there was little you could offer in the world Aang moved through so effortlessly.
You had been raised for a different purpose, taught a different role in your sheltered upbringing, shaped into something that did not extend beyond the walls of a home, and now that you stood outside of your previous life, you found yourself uncertain of where you belonged.
You were raised to be a wife.
So you were being a wife, even in your husband's absence.
You could only stay at home, hoping Aang would come back soon.
And perhaps the spirits had heard your prayers, although they might have heard only half of it. Aang had arrived, but only in presence. Just a piece of him.
A letter.
The 'thud' sound had come first, breaking through the stillness of the room as something struck against the balcony glass. You had jumped in your seat, your first thought turning to intrusion.
But then came the sound, a series of chirps that carried no threat.
You moved toward the balcony, your steps cautious at first, before reaching for the door and opening it.
The bird entered at once.
It was yellow and small, its movements quick as it flew up and it landed upon your shoulder, settling there with a few more chirps.
The symbol upon its chest caught your attention immediately, the mark unmistakable.
The Air Nomad's Emblem.
The Avatar's messenger.
Your hand moved to the small roll secured against its back, fingers careful as you removed it.
The bird did not leave, instead following you inside as you stepped away from the balcony.
The letter had begun simple enough, your name attached to 'Dear'.
I wish I were there with you.
I was going to come see you. I had a plan and everything!
A really good plan, actually. I even thought about what we would do when I got there. I'm not writing that part down, but I think you can take a guess. (I'm winking by the way.)
But then everything here got complicated again and now I'm writing a letter instead.
I miss you. A lot. Like...a lot a lot.
It's weird being here without you. I keep catching myself turning to say something and then remembering you're not there, and it feels wrong.
Those seven months with you... I think I got a little too used to you being there
Things in the Fire Nation keep coming up, and every time I think I can leave, someone says, "Avatar! we need you for one more thing." and then it turns into five more things!
I promise I'm not staying away on purpose.
I did think about hoping something would happen in Republic City so I'd have an excuse to come back faster—
WAIT. No. That's a terrible idea.
Please ignore that. Spirits, please definitely ignore that. I take it back.
A quiet laugh left you then, unbidden, the sound making the bird chirp up at you as you continued.
Flameo Ho Zuko heard me say something like that out loud earlier and now he looks annoyed every time I sigh, which is happening a lot, so I think I'm making it worse.
But he did have a good idea!
He said you could come stay at the palace for a while, so we don't have to keep missing each other like this. It wouldn't be forever. Just until things calm down here. Maybe a month. (Hopefully less, but I don't trust that right now.)
I know the Fire Nation isn't exactly your favorite place, but it's different now. Really different. I want you to see it. I want to show it to you.
Also! Important! Zuko has already left for Republic City for some work, so by the time you're reading this, he's already there. He said you can come back with him on his ship.
Please come
Will you come?
Please Come
You should come.
(That wasn't me trying to sound cool or anything, just ignore the part where I said "please come" three times.)
Anyway.
Come.
I'll be waiting for you.
That was all.
No farewell.
Just a promise he made on your behalf.
You lowered the letter slowly, your fingers still holding onto it, your thoughts already moving ahead of you.
Of course you would go.
Republic City had grown familiar, but it had not become yours. And although The Fire Nation didn't seem the keenest place to visit, with Aang there you could find stability in your feelings.
You would leave, because frankly, you still weren't that keen on making friends with your husband's first love.
And perhaps, in doing so, you would find something more than just his presence waiting for you.
Now brimmed with anticipation, all you could do is wait for the Fire Lord to reach out. So for now, you let your back hit the mattress, clutching Aang's letter to your chest as you stared up at the empty ceiling.
Zuko stared of the roof of his cabin, the bedding beneath him cold despite the ship belonging to the Fire Nation.
The faint creak of wood and the distant rhythm of the waves against the hull filled the silence, yet it did little to settle him.
The night had fallen upon them, ready to lull everyone to sleep, yet Zuko took a few more moments before he succumbed to his heavy-eyes.
He would reach Republic City when daylight touched the harbor, and with it would come the inevitable notion of meeting you again.
Spirits.
He felt foolish for agreeing to Aang, even more so for having been the one to suggest it in the first place. The decision lingered with him now, because it was not something done out of reason, but as something he had failed to think through.
He felt stupid. And worse, he felt guilty.
Guilt did not sit lightly with him. It never had. It settled deeper than irritation, heavier than regret, and it refused to leave once it dug its claws in.
Aang had taken his suggestion at face value, had accepted it with gratitude, which only made it worse, believing it to come from a kind heart.
What Aang did not know, and what Zuko would never allow him to know, was that the motive behind Zuko's kindness had come from something far less noble. It had been a lapse in judgment. It was the perfect testimony of unauthorized curiosity coming to bite him in the ass.
And now he was left to sit with it.
His last conversation with you had ended poorly, at least that is what he believes.
It had ended without resolution, leaving behind more questions than answers, and after what he had witnessed that very night was not something one forgets that easily, especially if it involves their closest friends.
Your conversation with Aang had been cryptic without it meaning to be, broken subjects mentioned in passing, sentences incomplete because Aang just wouldn't keep quiet and let you speak.
So, he often goes back to that night, revisiting the moments, trying to place the pieces of the puzzle you and Aang have seemed to conjure up around your marriage.
He would replay it in his mind, shifting through what little he had heard, trying to understand something that had not been meant for him to understand in the first place.
"Did...did you tell Sokka about...what happened...—"
"I would never! I would never disrespect you like that, I promise you."
Something sensitive, so much so that Aang doesn't feel like it's his place to speak of it.
"...I feel as though I have trapped you. I should have never agreed—"
"You are the best thing that has happened to me. I know it may not have seemed like it in the beginning, but I do not regret asking you to marry me. I never will."
Trapped.
The word had not left him since. It did not sit cleanly with anything else he knew of Aang, it did not align with what he understood.
Feeling like you trapped him. Arranged marriage? Aang mentioned his feelings were not mutual in the beginning, or that there never were any.
The signs pointed to arranged marriage, but it couldn't be one.
Aang had admitted to being the one who proposed, and that he did not regret it.
But, it had not begun with love.
And yet—
Aang loved you.
That much was undeniable.
His constant sighs and mumblings of your name had driven him up the corner.
Zuko supposed your history was one of those things you just either knew or you didn't.
It it had made him all the more curious about the two of you.
He was not one to involve himself in matters that did not concern him, at least not anymore. He had learned restraint, learned where his place ended.
Yet this—
This had drawn his attention in a way he did not expect.
He no longer took your words at face value.
Not after that night.
Your vulnerable state that night did not soften the blow of what had been said before.
"He is still Aang's closest friend."
"Perhaps he will not be for long."
He could eliminate all suspicions of you, blaming your actions on the being overwhelmed in a new city, surrounded by people who weren't too hospitable to your presence.
But he didn't.
But he wanted to know more. And ever since Aang did share your social class, one just a level beneath his, being nobility, your presence had only piqued his interest.
And that, perhaps, was where his guilt found its root.
Guilt had flooded him quickly after offering your stay at the Fire Nation Palace, an offer that had come from his said interest, hoping to peel off the layers of secrecy you learned to adorn well, hoping to make sense of this marriage.
He really didn't enjoy the epiphany that he was only using his friend's mysterious turn in life for his own entertainment, wanting to make Aang's marital life his own private spectacle that can quench the thirst of both his novelty and boredom.
He had chosen not to look away.
He had chosen to look closer.
But the deed had been done, too late to take back his words once the pure joy on the Avatar's face had been showcased.
Zuko had seen it.
And he had allowed it.
It was not something he took pride in.
But it was done.
And by the time the first light of morning reached the horizon, there would be no avoiding it.
The harbor stood prepared as The Fire Nation ship had been set for departure, its massive structure steady in the water.
A sturdy metal plank extended from the dock to the deck, and along its length, soldiers stood aligned on either side, their formation strict.
You approached without hesitation.
Earlier that afternoon, one of the Fire Nation soldiers had arrived at your residence, his tone formal as he asked for your confirmation. You had given it without delay, and in return, he had informed you to be ready by two for departure.
By the time you stepped onto the dock, your belongings had already been taken from your hands.
A small travel case that didn't carry more than what was necessary for a month long getaway. It had likely already been placed within your quarters aboard the ship.
Your attention remained forward, holding your skirt to avoiding stepping on the delicate fabric as you moved up the slope.
At the top of the plank, he stood waiting.
Zuko did not move to meet you halfway, standing where the deck began as his presence held and authority you hadn't seen before.
Of course, the side of him shown tohis friends is not to be expected around his subordinates. With the exception of his family and friends, everyone gets the intimidating Fire Lord, someone to not be overstepped.
Zuko wasn't sure where you fell. You were Aang's wife. You may not be his friend, but you stood higher than people he called acquaintances. His gaze settled on you the moment you stepped onto the plank, observing the same poise from a month ago.
You closed the distance without faltering, letting go of your skirt as the fabric ghosts the deck.
Zuko inclined his head. It was a small gesture, familiar to the first time you had encountered him.
"Welcome aboard," he said in greeting, although there was no actual joy behind it. Just duty.
There was nothing casual in the way he spoke, at least not with you. It reminded you of your own presence, one you had trained countlessly in front of the mirror.
He stepped aside, allowing you passage onto the deck, his hand extending slightly in quiet indication for you to move ahead of him.
Everything had been set. You would see Aang within two days. Even the thought bubbled excitement in the flesh of your heart, the built up loneliness starting to ebb away.
The ship was cold, floor feeling like ice beneath your bare feet as you walked around the ship. It was past your usual bedtime, the strike of midnight already having passed as you actively searched for the Fire Lord.
There were guards still stationed across the halls, and when you had asked for assistance, you were easily led by one of them, taking a turn as you trailed behind him down the long hallway.
Finally you reached the door you had been searching for, the details along the metal a tad bit more extravagant than the others, four guards stationed at each side of it.
"The Lord's study, ma'am. Would you like me to announce you?" The helpful guard questions you as shake your head in disagreement.
"I can knock perfectly well. Thank you for your assistance."
You reached forward, fingers retreating in your palm your fist collided with the metal with delicate force, producing just enough sound without risking a bruise along your skin.
You hear a faint 'Enter' resound from within the room, the guard stationed to the right of the door opening it before you could reach out.
You give a nod in gratitude, stepping forward and letting your head peak in before the rest of you followed, the door closing shut behind you.
Zuko looked up surprised, lowering the scroll in his hand, eyes moving over your form, taking note of your nightly attire consisting of a thin lilac nightgown reaching past your knees, and a velvet warm robe worn untied over it for warmth.
"Good evening, Lord Zuko." You greet him, your body leaning forward into an objectively low bow, just as you had been taught when you were younger.
As you did so, Zuko had wished the Agni Kai with his father had gotten rid of his eyesight instead of sparing him with a scar, because it was embarrassing how quickly his sight fell onto your dipping cleavage.
In an instant, he averted his gaze with a hitch in his breath, eyes burning as though he had disrespected the entirety of Aang's existence with just one glance.
He cleared his throat in an attempt to compose himself, surfing through his brain for a respectful chain of words to speak.
"A 'Good Morning' would be a more appropriate greeting.." He humors you, and you get a slight chuckle.
"May I help you?" His words addressing you, not quite sure about your presence in his study.
"I simply wished to extend my gratitude for your kind gesture. Aang mentioned that this impromptu arrangement had been your suggestion, and I wished to thank you."
You speak softly, taking a few steps forward to address him better.
"I appreciate your gratitude, though I assure you it is unnecessary. It is an honor to assist the Avatar."
His words were so formal, even while addressing Aang.
"You mean your friend." You correct. Zuko blinks, his gaze measured as he scanned your face.
"Yes. My friend." He repeats, amusement laced in his words, leaning back as his elbows meet the armrest, resting his chin on the bumps of his knuckles.
"Hmm. Well, I have said what I wished to. I shall take my leave—"
"Sit."
The Fire Lord's words came as an order, leaving you surprised at how little room he left for refusal with just as single word.
"Join me for some tea. It may help you rest, given how you're still up at this hour." He adds.
You're stuck in your place for a few moments, not sure how to respond to it, so instead of a verbal response, you simply walk forward, taking the seat across from him on the smaller chair, while Zuko calls for his guard and orders tea for the two of you.
"How has the city treated you thus far?"
Zuko starts the conversation with the most mundane question, but you humor him anyway.
You sigh.
"It is boring."
"Careful."
His comment comes quick, prompting you to look at him as his next words follow.
"The city is a symbol of peace, an aftermath of years of war finally brought to justice. Your words risk diminishing the very foundation of what your hus..." He trails of, the urge to chaff taking over.
"...What my friend has built."
Your jaw locks subtly, muscle tensing in your cheek at the obvious jab to your previous comment.
"I did not intend to offend the foundation of the city. It stands with purpose, and I understand the weight it carries, but that does not make it any less uneventful for me."
You chide, the guard walking into the study, setting two cups down and pouring you both a share.
Zuko leans forward now, letting out a hum at your words as gestures for the guard to leave.
You then continue—
"What is it like ruling the Fire Nation?"
Zuko hesitates for a moment before answering.
"Torment."
You hide your amusement behind the cup, taking a small sip.
"Oh, How so?"
"It is no easy task to redeem a nation after a century of damage."
"Hmm." You hummed, holding the teacup between your fingers, the warmth settling into your palms, your eyes lowering briefly before lifting again to meet his.
"How did you and Aang become friends?" you asked, the question carrying some curiosity behind it, but you looked at him as if there was already a correct answer for it.
Zuko did not answer immediately, his eyes lingering on you as if searching for the answer you expect, before he leaned back slightly in his chair.
"I'm sure Aang has already told you."
"Yes," you replied, taking a small sip before continuing, "but as you mentioned that day, Aang tends to soften his words."
A faint shift passed through his face, and for the first time, since you've met him, a small smile finds its way to his lips.
"That he does," he said, his voice lower now.
"Aang and I have come a long way. It is not a story to speak on briefly ."
His gaze averted to the side, as if he was recalling something he didn't like dwelling on.
"Perhaps another night."
He rose then, unhurried with his steps as his attention shifted away from you completely, your eyes trailing him.
"Although," he continued, his back partially turned as he made his way toward one of the cabinets along the wall, "if you wish to speak of Republic City, I would welcome the conversation."
You watched him, your fingers resting lightly against the rim of your cup.
"What is there to speak about?" you asked, your voice carrying dismissal about the topic.
"Plenty," he replied, retrieving a bottle from within the cabinet before turning back toward you.
"You may find it 'boring,' as you say, but it is your home now, is it not?"
The cork came free with a soft sound, the scent of wine settling into the air between you.
"I hope you don't mind," he added, not quite asking.
You dismissed it with a small wave of your hand.
He returned to the table, the bottle in one hand, a glass in the other, placing them down softly as he remained on his feet and poured himself his desired amount.
"You all have made a wonderful place of Republic City—"
"I was not there for most of it," he interrupted, correcting your statement before it could end.
"It would feel wrong to take credit for something I did not build."
"Are you trying to take advantage of my lack of knowledge?" you asked immediately, a hint of challenge behind your voice.
"I am well aware of what the city was built upon."
He stilled for a fraction of a second, then tilted his head slightly, interest flickering in his expression.
"And what might that be?"
"Fire Nation colonies." You spoke in fact.
Your gaze was stuck on the warm liquid held within the cup, no longer meeting his eye. He let out a hum, something akin to approval but you knew it was far from it.
"It seems you were not as sheltered as you allowed us to believe," he said, lifting his glass and taking a slow sip.
The words settled between you, neither of you rushing to move past them.
"Aang and Katara put in a great deal of work into it," he added after a moment, his choice of words so deliberate, that he felt bad for saying them the moment they slipped past his tongue.
"Yes," you said, your fingers tightening slightly around your cup, your voice lowering for your next words, "Aang and Katara truly have."
Zuko continued to watch you. He didn't need to touch you to notice your face getting warmer, the subtle embarrassment of the being scrutinized under his gaze evident across your skin, laced with what Zuko would conclude being jealousy.
"May I ask you something?" you continued, your gaze finally meeting his in earnest, leaving him no room to disapprove.
He inclined his head once, already aware of where the conversation had begun to turn.
"Aang still has feelings for her, does he not?"
Zuko's mouth gapes open a little, eyes widening in tandem, not expecting you to be so direct about it.
But then again, with how much he knows of you and has concluded about you, he should have guessed you weren't one to beat around the bush.
Zuko did not answer right away. He brought the glass to his lips instead, taking a measured sip before lowering it again.
"It is not my place to speak on that."
"No," you agreed with him, setting the half empty cup of tea back on the table, the crystal clattering onto the saucer.
"It is not. But I have no one else to turn to." Your admission tasted rancid on your tongue, yet you had no other choice but to be truthful.
"And I trust you to give me an honest answer."
That gave him pause.
He set his glass down with care, then moved.
The distance between you closed in a few steps, his presence shifting from across the table to beside you, his hand reaching out toward your cup without asking.
Before you could react, he lifted it, tilting it slightly, the remaining tea spilling onto the saucer below.
Your lips parted, words forming without finding shape, your attention fixed on the quiet audacity of the gesture.
Zuko did not look at you.
He reached for his glass instead, pouring a measure of wine into the now-empty teacup, filling it only a quarter of the way before setting it back in front of you.
The scent of wine replaced the fading warmth of tea.
Only then did he meet your gaze again.
"How did you meet Aang?"
Your gaze snapped to him, swallowing your previous complaints before even a single one could come out.
"He stumbled across our nation, looking for traces of Air Nomad artifacts." You answer.
"Is that the truth?"
Your fingers curled slightly against your palm.
"Why would you doubt that it isn't?"
"Because, that wasn't what Aang told me."
The words landed with force, calling you out on your lie.
Aang wouldn't have. Zuko was leering you into his trap, and even a falter along your face could give it away.
"I have already mentioned that I abstain from drinking. What is this?" you asked, attempting to steer the conversation elsewhere.
"In case you need it."
"For what?"
Zuko shrugs, his answer plain.
"Liquid courage," he replied.
"For what? I believe I asked a question first." You reminded smoothly.
"And I asked one in return."
"Which I answered."
"Not honestly."
You scoffed.
"It is the truth." Was your only comment before your gaze dropped to the cup in front of you, the dark liquid catching the dim light from the torches.
Then, your eyes lifted again, meeting his through lowered lashes, your expression tightening despite you faux smile.
"Are you curious about my life, Zuko?"
Zuko chuffs, mirth painted on his face as he bit back just a hard.
"Only if you are curious about Katara," he returned without pause.
"Please," you said, your voice flattening, "the information you have does not even come close."
"All information holds value, so long as one is willing to hear it."
"I could simply ask my husband."
"Of course," he said before ending his statement.
"...And I will be here when you are left unsatisfied."
He hadn't intended to make his words wield the double edge, but it was blatant and out in the air, compelling you to snap at him.
"Lord Zuko!" you gasp, rising from your seat in one swift motion.
Even then, even standing at your full height, he remained taller, his presence looming over yours even more so than it did before.
"I was told you spoke well of me when Sokka insulted my honor," you continued, your voice trying to remain hospitable despite the rage beneath it.
"It led me to believe we might form a decent acquaintance after how our last conversation ended. It appears I was mistaken."
Zuko lowered his glass, surprised at your outburst, although he didn't let it show.
"I did not intend to offend you," he said after a moment, his tone steadier now that he understood he had crossed a line with you.
You, who were still a stranger to him.
"One cannot help but be curious when a friend returns married."
"This is becoming repetitive," you let out a crude laugh. "You sound just like Sokka."
"I do not agree with what he said," Zuko answered, his remark unwavering, "but I do not dismiss his suspicions entirely either. We have no reason to trust you. Not after that night."
"What do you mean?" You caught it immediately.
He slipped up. Zuko stilled for a second, registering it to himself that he almost ratted himself out at that moment.
"Call it instinct," he said, correcting course without hesitation.
"I am simply looking out for my friend."
The emphasis settled heavily.
You stepped back from him at once, the space between you re-established in a single motion, your back turning to him before he could read anything further from your face.
"Good night, Lord Zuko."
You did not look back.
The door opened with more force than necessary, then shut just as quickly behind you, leaving the room in silence once more.
Zuko remained where he stood, his gaze fixed on the space you had occupied, unmoving for a moment longer, then, slowly, he exhaled.
A minute passed before he moved, lowering himself into the seat you had vacated, the warmth of your presence still faintly lingering against the cushions.
He reached for the teacup he had filled, lifting it without thought, and drinking from it in one long motion before setting it back down.
He had come too close.
The realization settled in as his hand came up to cover his eyes, his fingers pressing briefly against his brow. His breathing slowed, steadying, each inhale pulling in the faint trace of something left behind.
Your perfume.
It lingered subtly, woven into the still air of the room.
He did not notice when his hand lowered, or when sleep claimed him, his thoughts left unresolved, drifting out of reach one by one.
The wind was gratefully soft the next morning, brushing against your face in steady currents, tugging gently at the strands of your hair that had been carefully set by you an hours ago, lifting the edges of your attire in soft movement.
You stood on the deck, hands placed on the railing as you watched the nearing harbor.
You were about to meet Aang again and you had evidently dressed for the occasion.
Gone were the simpler fabrics from the night before, replaced now with garments that carried your upbringing in every thread. Rich silks draped around you, the shades of orange and yellow woven together with intricate embroidery.
Jewelry rested against your skin, delicate like the most of your other trinkets, light blue stones set across your ears, your wrists, your neck, even within your hair.
The colors did not go unnoticed.
Zuko stood at a distance across the deck, his posture composed as he studied you.
His gaze had settled on you long before the ship had begun to slow, and it remained there still, scanning your attire like he had done the first time he met you.
Orange. Yellow. Blue.
The colours of the Air Nomads.
Or better yet, the colours of Aang.
It was intentional.
Zuko wondered if it was something you had planned before you joined him on the ship, or had his words trigged you so much that you felt the need to declare your standing beside the Avatar by a show of your clothes.
You hadn't acknowledged him all morning, only having offered him a 'good morning', your voice carrying none of the sharpness from the night before, yet you had not met his eyes.
And you did not do so now.
So he turned his gaze away as the harbor approached, the ship slowing down before eventually coming to a halt.
The descent from the ship was quick, the soldiers once again lining either side of the plank as you stepped down behind Zuko. The guards surrounded you both in practiced formation, their presence forming a boundary that guided you both, leading you forward through the path that had already been cleared.
You followed, Zuko, albeit, a few steps behind.
The irritation had not faded entirely. You could understand his and the others worry for their friend, but they had no business crossing the line with you on multiple occasions.
You still didn't know who displeased you more.
Sokka, who had berated in your absence, but had apologized somewhat earnestly.
Or Zuko, who had spoken it to your face (which on some level, you respected), but had yet to offer you an apology.
The displeasure lingered beneath your composure, and although you tired to conceal it, it showed in the way your gaze remained forward, never once shifting toward Zuko despite the proximity.
The palace gates opened before you, and the moment you stepped inside, everything else ceased to matter.
Zuko ceased to matter.
Because Aang stood there.
At the center of the place grounds, his hand was smoothening the fur Appa's head, the sky bison leaning into his touch. There was ease in his posture as he stood there along will someone from the Fire Nation.
Then he saw you.
His face lit at once, his entire presence moving with it as he straightened, his steps already beginning before his thoughts could catch up, each one faster than the last as he crossed the distance between you.
You did not wait.
The formation you were in broke swiftly, your hands lifting your skirts just enough to allow your steps to quicken, your composure slipping in favor of something far more genuine as you moved toward him.
You closed the space with the same urgency, meeting his halfway.
His arms came around you without hesitation, pulling you into him fully, leaving no space between the two of you. The force of it caught you off guard, your own arms trapped at your sides beneath his hold.
Your breath was caught in your throat for a second before laughter found its way through it.
"Aang!" you exclaimed, laughing as you struggled in his hold, wanting him to free your arms.
He did not let go immediately.
He pulled only back enough to see you, his hands shifting as one lifted to your face, his warm palm settling against your cheek.
"...You are a sight," he said, brushing his thumb on your skin.
His lips met yours gently, his eyes closing in the moment as you craned your neck at the notion.
He only pulled away once the others had caught up to them.
Zuko approached with the guards at his side, his steps slowing as he reached the two of you, observing the scene with an unreadable countenance.
Aang turned toward him, his arm moving easily around your shoulders to keep you close against him.
"Yo! Flameo Hotman!" he greeted, his tone bright as always, carrying his unfiltered tone that was never questioned.
"Thanks for bringing her here safely. I really owe you one." His gratitude followed smoothly, as you tried not to hide your face in your husband's chest.
Zuko nodded is head slightly in answer.
"You owe me nothing," he said. "It was no trouble to ensure her arrival."
His eyes flickered toward you for only a second which you did not meet.
"I will have her settled in her room now," Aang added, already shifting his weight, his attention returning fully to you.
Just like that, one second you stood beside him, and the next, you were lifted from the ground, his arm sliding beneath your knees while the other supported your back, pulling you up into his hold.
"Aang!" you let out startled, your voice breaking into laughter at the suddenness of it.
"Avatar Aang, you have a meeting scheduled to—"
The Grand Chamberlain, the one who had been waiting for the Fire Lord's arrival along with Aang, cut through the moment, though it did not last long.
"Do not disturb the Avatar and his wife."
Zuko's voice followed, firm, leaving no room for further interruption.
The man fell silent at once.
Zuko's gaze shifted toward Aang then, giving a brief smile.
"You may take her. I will handle it."
Aang did not wait.
"Great! Take care of Appa for me!" he said, already walking away, light on his feet as his pace remained unbothered by the weight of you in his arms.
The palace was substantially more breathtaking than you had anticipated.
Your arms found their place around his neck, your fingers curling against him as you looked everywhere in awe. You took to admiring the grandiose walls, observing the ceiling and the symmetry of the torches.
Your earlier composure was entirely forgotten now that you were with Aang.
"How are you, my love?" he asked, making you snap your attention back to him.
"Were you bored without me? I bet you were." He laughed softly at the end of it.
For a moment, your mind faltered, and Zuko mattered again.
The memory surfaced uninvited at the word 'bored', the echo of last night's conversation returning where you had left it, Zuko's voice threading through it.
"It is boring."
"Careful. The city is a symbol of peace, an aftermath of years of war finally brought to justice. Your words risk diminishing the very foundation of what your hus..."
"...my friend has built."
All of that just because you spoke your truth? You pushed past the feeling, but you wondered how Aang would react to your answer if it had been him last night.
"I was bored out of my mind," you admitted, scanning his face as you spoke ahead. "This city life was not what I expected at all. Especially without you there."
Aang only hummed in response.
There was no judgement in his face, no edge taking over.
The absence of it eased something in you, the tension you had not realized you were holding loosened within your chest.
"I've barely even been in the city," Aang continued. "Most of the time, the house just felt empty."
His steps slowed slightly as he spoke, turning his face toward you again.
"At least now I have you to come home to."
He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours in a playful nudge that drew you swat lightly at his neck as you laughed.
"We're here!" he exclaims, pushing open the doors with his back and bringing you in.
And as Aang walked over to the bed in the center of the room, admiring the place as if he hadn't just spent most of his days there, your eyes were trained on him, gaze softening at realizing how far you had both come.
Finally reaching the bed, he gets onto the mattress before placing you down on the soft comforter, his figure looming over you.
He gives another kiss to your cheek before pulling away, getting off the bed as his hands reach for your feet that remain off the bed.
With swift movements, he removes one of your delicate footwear, as you finally look at the interior.
"This room is quite lovely." You remark.
"Your old one would've put it to shame," Aang jokes, placing your foot down to remove the other shoe.
"So...it seems they have been working my husband to the bone," you muse, leaning up slightly, supporting your upper body with your elbows to look at him.
"It's not that bad..."
"Aang."
"...Okay, yeah. It's kinda sucks."
You let out a soft chuckle at that, watching him as he lowers your other foot and gathers your footwear in one hand, walking toward the wall across from the bed.
"How was the trip? Did Zuko treat you well?" Aang asks as he kneels to arrange your shoes beside the vanity along the wall.
His back was turned to you, which you were are grateful for, considering how your reaction had nearly shown on your face.
"It was...fine."
Aang knew that tone. He turns around instantly, brows pulling together.
"Everything okay?" he asks carefully.
"Of course," you say with believable certainty, offering him a small smile before it fades.
"Can I ask you something?" you continue at once, watching as he walks back to you.
"Always," he says, stopping at the edge of the bed, your feet beside his thighs.
"Did the Fire Lord ever ask you about how we met?"
At your question, Aang brings a hand to his chin, looking off as he thinks before answering.
"I think so...Yeah! He did. Once."
"And what did you tell him?"
"I said I was looking for Air Nomad artifacts, and I came across your nation."
That's what you had said as well, which meant your instincts had been correct. Zuko had wanted you to slip up.
"Why do you ask?" Aang's question breaks you out of your epiphany.
"I was just wondering..." you trail off, your gaze slipping away from his.
"You're lying."
What is it with everyone calling you a liar?
"Did he say something?" Aang persisted.
"He just asked how we met."
"And?"
"And...nothing," you finish with a light laugh.
Aang doesn't take it lightly, ignoring your attempt to divert the mood.
"What did he say?" he presses, his voice lowering.
"Like I said. Nothing." You try to end it there.
"Fine. I'll just ask him myself."
Aang was done with everything. He already had to deal with Sokka once, now he did not want to go against Zuko as well.
It killed him how unwelcoming his friends were being, and it only made things worse that Zuko of all people, one that he didn't expect, one that had taken your side against Sokka, had potentially said something to upset you.
He turns, and you stare at his retreating figure in shock.
"Aang, wait!" you call, pushing yourself up fully as he turns back toward you.
"What?" he snaps, a hint of irritation slipping through.
You huff, trying not to roll your eyes at his childish behavior, even though you know others might just call it being protective.
"I haven't seen my husband for a month," you say, easing back onto your elbows again, eyes gaze narrowing with intention as you subtly tilt your head.
"Must we start with an argument? Hm?"
You hum at the end of your question, straightening your knees as you continued.
"I was hoping for something more...welcoming. After all, you did promise me something in that letter, didn't you?"
You were right.
He hadn't seen you in a month.
Aang stills, lips tightening as a blush creeps over his face.
He gives in, letting out an exhale as he walks back without another word, light steps bringing him to the bed again as he climbs onto it, leaning over you.
His hands coming up to hold your face as he draws closer and he kisses you, deeper this time.
His lips move against yours, your eyes falling shut as he pushes you onto your back, the mattress dipping under the two of you.
He pulls back, a faint flush settling over his face.
"We're still talking about this later," he murmurs, a little dazed.
"Fine," you grumble. "Now take off your shoes, Avatar."
Aang lets out a quiet laugh, already shifting back.
"Yes, ma'am."
chapter four coming soon...
a/n: thank you so much for all the support you guys have been giving this story, it only motivates me to write more of it!
i wanted to use this opportunity to clarify that this story is not a polyamorous story. at least not yet. i do change my mind often for what works best for a story, and if I genuinely think i can make it work, i would be open to it. but so far, a poly relationship does not suit this story. i did think of it, but i can't justify why either of the two men would be okay with 'sharing' you. it is canon that zuko is a little possessive, and i just KNOW that aang is as well.
physical: cold water in face/cold shower , running/high intensity movement
sit down. what are your top 3 priorities for this day? what are your top 3 priorities for the next 7 days?
Look into yourself. what am I feeling right know and what could be the reason for that? what are my physical and emotional needs right now?
get your plans and/or ideas down. this could literally be anything. a to-do list, a calender or journaling, anything you prefer or what works for you.
try to fulfill your needs and get started. don't try to waste too much time on planing and preparing for your upcoming work though, preparing by making e.g. to-do lists may feel productive and can be for your mental health, but in the end, you are not getting your main tasks done.
Here’s a quick story I would love for you guys to check out! It’s great!! This was the story I was recommending! Pls don’t let them know I suggested! This is my secret account so I can’t have my bf finding out 🤭
♡*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ·*:..。♡*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ·*:..。♡*ﾟ¨ﾟ·*:..。♡*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ·*:..。
💬 0 🔁 0 ❤️ 1 · [First Short Story I hope to turn into an official Chapter]
Warning: Mention of blood and slight gore.
MDNI!
Tittle: Cal
synopsis: a story in which a depressed satoru gets sent to the future and sees just how bright it eventually becomes. meanwhile, you're reminded of how much of a brat your husband used to be when you first started dating.
cw: MDNI, time travel, smut w/ a touch of angst bc we LOVE plot, satoru's actually so mean at first lol, dad!jo (him and reader share a daughter together)
notes: hiiii we got 6.5k words for this one ❤️ comm for the lovely @sadlittlecucumber i hope u like!!!!
song rec: drag path — twenty one pilots
Satoru’s life ended up being a fucking bummer.
His best friend’s a mass murderer. Shoko’s gone off to do her own thing with medicine. Nanami left to go become a banker or whatever. Ijichi’s… Ijichi. Oh, and Haibara’s dead. Everyone who’s alive seems to have moved on— so should Satoru, honestly. But times proved that to be quite difficult.
He’s starting to understand where Suguru was coming from with the whole exorcise-absorb mantra. Except for him, it was exorcise and destroy, leaving every cursed site he’s stepped foot on looking like god himself decided to hit the reset button to obliterate the place.
Nobody says anything about it. He’s probably the closest thing to a god. Despite having tried his hardest all throughout his youth to fit in and act as if he was just like everyone else, people were still terrified to fuck with him.
And despite the chaos he’s constantly surrounded by— mainly from his own doing— the days still find a way to bleed into each other, morphing into a never ending cycle of boredom and violence. It’s quite the combo. The higher ups are lucky he’s too tired to plot anything behind their backs.
He’s exhausted.
The past is too blurry. The future’s too bleak.
Gojo was bound to fuck up sooner or later. The thought of him finally snapping like Suguru did, dangling in the back of his mind, taunting him.
He didn’t snap. It’s so much worse than that. At least in the eyes of the arrogant boy who got bested by, what he assumed to be a grade two curse because of how pudgy and stupid it looked. The thing that caught him lacking looked like a fucking blob fish that struggled with crippling anxiety, how the hell was he supposed to know that it could mess with timeof all things?
One moment he’s laughing at the way it looks, the next he’s in the complete dark.
That was the first time he’s smiled in months, by the way.
“Huh?” Satoru huffs out, trying to look around before eventually realizing that he has a blindfold on, and rips it off in annoyance. “Don’t tell me that thing knocked me out,” he begins to grumble to himself. It’d explain why he had a blindfold on… but then he realized he was in a completely different outfit, one that you didn’t put on someone who was currently in rest and recovery.
He highly doubts Shoko would even change him, anyway, at least not for this.
“Oh hey, you’re home.”
Home?
He looks around, and all he knows is this isn’t the dorm he’s continued to stay in after graduation, purely due to the fact that he was already out on missions for up to 18 hours each day. Not to mention that the penthouse he was currently standing in was too clean to be his. Too warm. Way too comfortable.
You already knew there was something deeply off in those first few seconds of looking into his eyes. This wasn’t your husband— this was the hot mess you met and still fell in love with all those years ago.
You tilt your head to the side, more curious than cautious, “Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” he snorts, literally the worst liar ever. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know,” you hum, holding eye contact long enough to leave him feeling a bit unsettled. “You tell me.”
First of all, who the fuck do you think you are speaking to him like that?
Second, who even are you?
Something big and shiny on your finger catches his attention, then he looks at his own hand that has an equally shiny band around his ring finger.
Fuck.
“Honey–”
Satoru physically cringes at the pet name, giving himself away once again.
“I’m not Satoru,” he blurts out, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “I mean, I am, but I’m not— FUCK– some fuckin’ curse blasted me into the future, and I need to go back.”
Well, that was quick. He’s always quick to fold under pressure when it comes to you— it’s something he’s unaware of though, as he fights back the urge to start pacing back and forth.
There’s a light smack from your mouth when you go to open it, only for the words to never even come, let alone die out. Nothing about this surprises you. This is not the craziest thing that’s happened since you’ve met Satoru.
Your lips thin into a smile as you take a deep breath, knowing you had no choice but to accept your new circumstances.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” He raises a brow at how you just… accepted it.
“Yeah… I believe it.” You respond flatly, then point at him, casually motioning your finger up and down. “Your attitude kinda sucked when we first met.”
He grimaces, taken aback by the statement. “No, it doesn’t–”
“You also liked to argue, too.”
“Okay— whatever,” he waves a dismissive hand, not at all interested in hearing what else you had to say. At this point, it just sounded like you wanted to shit on him, something he actually doesn’t have any fucking time for right now. “You’re a sorcerer… right?”
“No.”
“Christ.” Satoru sighs, turning on his heel. “You’re fuckin’ useless—“
You scoff, more humored than offended. “Where are you going?”
“To figure this shit out!” he snaps, throwing his arms out as he turns around to face you.
“Okay,” you shrug, still way too calm for Satoru’s liking, as it pisses him off even more. “If you don’t get it all figured out tonight, you can always come back. We have a guest room.”
“Yeah, thanks.” He huffs out a bitter laugh, as if that was the dumbest suggestion he’s ever heard. “I appreciate the offer.”
–
“Yaga” Satoru storms into the principal’s office, ignoring all his cursed stuffed animals, but noticing what he’s done with his hair. “What the fuck happened to you?”
The principal's brows pinch together, wishing he had locked the door to his office. Satoru fucked with him enough today by showing up to a meeting 20 minutes late with some sugary frap in his hand, and now he’s storming into his office, insulting him out of nowhere.
“Actually, nevemind.” Satoru waves a hand to stop him from even answering his question, reminding himself not to get sidetracked right now. “Look, I need your help. I got sent into the future by some curse, and I need to get back.”
Yaga inhales sharply. “What are you even talking about?”
“Exactly what I just said! I’m from 2009! Not whatever age I am now—”
“31.”
Satoru throws up a little in his mouth. “Send me back.”
Yaga lets out a long, disappointed sigh. It’s always something with Satoru. Always. Having to deal with the younger version of him was a painful reminder that he’s been dealing with his bullshit for well over a decade now. Nothing surprises him anymore.
“Let me see if some other windows would be willing to help look through the library. I’m sure you’ll be able to find information on what kind of curse you got hit with.”
“Thank you,” Satoru groans, still not very pleased by everyone’s reactions thus far, but grateful that he can at least get somewhere with Yaga… unlike a certain somebody.
Hours later, he finds himself at the school’s dusty, unkept library. It looks worse than it originally looked before he walked in. Books sprawled everywhere. Research papers were scattered all over the tables and floor. Assistants running around in every direction, more than half of them terrified at the total 180 in Satoru’s attitude.
“W-we can’t find anything,” Ijichi says, too old to be acting this scared in Satoru’s opinion.
He hums, elbows still resting on his knees, not bothering to sit up. “Hey, Ijichi?”
Ijichi gulped loudly, managing to annoy the world’s strongest sorcerer even more. “...Yes?”
“How are you even more incompetent now than you were before?”
“I tried my best! I swear!”
“Well, it’s not good enough— I’m still here!” he snaps at the nervous wreck of a man. Thank fucking god Ijichi listened to him and just became a window. He sucks at it too, but at least it’s easier for this dumbass to avoid death. “God— what the fuck am I supposed to do now?!”
“This is just one of the libraries, there’s more! And some in Kyoto too, that we’ll have the Kyoto branch check out.”
“Do whatever you need to do. I’m just letting you know right now that if I'm not back by tomorrow, you better watch the fuck out.”
The threat is followed by complete dead silence, aside from a certain someone's breath catching in horror.
“Me?!” Ijichi squeaks out.
The sorcerer doesn’t bother answering that and instead walks away, grumbling something insulting under his breath, just in complete and utter disbelief over how Ijichi truly hasn’t changed.
—
You figured your husband would eventually come back, so you set some food aside for him, and now you’re sitting at the dinner table, trying not to laugh at the pout on his face as he picks at his dinner with the chopsticks in his hand.
“Is the food good?”
“Sure.”
“I can warm that up for you, if you want?” you ask, barely trying to hide your amusement.
“No thanks,” he curtly responds before shoving another piece of karaage into his mouth. He’s known to have a sweet tooth, but chicken karaage’s probably his favorite food, savory wise. You almost want to tell him that he’s allowed to enjoy food even if his day hasn’t gone the way he had planned. “I’d appreciate it if you stopped staring.”
Your lips twitch, threatening to break out into a fit of laughter. “Right, sorry.”
“Mommy…? Is Daddy home yet?”
Oh great. As if the day couldn’t get any worse— now there’s a child.
“Yeah,” you respond in a tentative tone, shooting Satoru a look that screams ‘behave or else’, and even though you are currently a stranger to him, it intimidates him enough to behave for the time being.
A little girl, no older than 4 years old, walks into the kitchen and Satoru’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head upon seeing his daughter. It’s pretty obvious she’s his with her baby blue eyes and stark white hair. Her facial features are entirely yours, though. It’s strange to see.
“Hey… kiddo—” he awkwardly says, not really sure how to address the little girl. You clear your throat, mouthing ‘princess’ when he looks at you, because your daughter also happens to have her dad’s attitude. “I mean princess.”
It’s hilarious how unnatural it sounds right now when he was the one who started calling her that the moment you two took her home from the hospital.
“You pomis to wead bedtime stowie,” she starts to pout— same exact way he does.
“Did I?” He gives the girl a sympathetic look, albeit fake.
“Yeah,” she frowns as she walks up to you, giving him the world’s nastiest side eye. “Liar.”
Why is that the one word she’s able to enunciate correctly? She didn’t even stutter.
“Yeah— I was a little busy with work today,” he murmurs, as if she knew what that even meant. With the glare she was giving him, he doubted she’d even care if he broke down what work and the importance of it was. “Maybe mommy can read to you tonight?”
Sai wasn’t having that.
Satoru spent the end of his night reading her favorite book to her. Multiple times. He almost asked if it was some form of punishment for not upholding a promise he didn’t technically make himself, but decided against it in fear that she’d make him read it one more time. Sai fell asleep… eventually. Despite there being no way to prove it, he knows that the little girl forced herself to stay up out of pure spite.
But still, he finds himself smiling as he thinks about his nightmare of a future, not wiping it off quickly enough when you lightly knock on the guest bedroom door.
“Here’s some jammys for the night.” You smile back as you walk up and hand him a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt, both neatly folded up. “Figured you wouldn’t want to sleep in your work clothes.”
“Oh uh— thanks.” He clears his throat and forces out a laugh, pushing through the embarrassment of getting caught smiling to himself.
You’re giving him that look again. The one that’s mixed with amusement and a bit of fondness, where you look like you’re about to start making fun of him, but never do. Satoru would rather die than admit it makes him nervous.
“What?”
There’s a small pause as your smile grows. “Do you like your kid?”
“She’s weird.”
“Yeah, no— you wouldn’t believe who she got that from.”
“Fuck off.” A laugh easily slips through his lips this time, unable to stay serious at the thought of her inheriting even just a quarter of the traits he had as a child. Then it grows quiet again as he realizes she probably has the freedom to be a kid.
He wants to ask, but you beat him to it with a statement that answered the question he had in mind.
“Your duties as her father don’t end just because you managed to time travel by the way,” you say playfully, though he knows you’re being dead serious.
He can only guess what other horrors that little girl will subject him to for the rest of his time here. To put it simply, she’s not afraid of Dad.
For once, somebody doesn’t look at him as a god to fear.
—
It’s been over a month.
Ijichi and the rest of the windows are just as useless as they were when they first started trying to find answers. All that’s changed is that Nanami knows, and doesn’t seem to be too thrilled about the fact that he is now involved.
But still, the search for the fix to his predicament continues, turning every library and warehouse upside down. That’s all they could really do— aside from asking the elders for assistance of some sort.
Over his dead body.
Knowing they’d most likely do more harm than good, everyone’s agreed to keep this all a little secret from them.
So all that’s left to do, or rather forced to do, is to be patient. It’s hard. Satoru doesn’t do patient— he’s the type to snap his fingers and have a solution magically appear right before his eyes. You can only imagine how difficult it’s been for him to accept that he can’t immediately get what he wants right now.
Not to mention the fact that he had to continue working throughout all of this, but that wasn’t very surprising.
Now, what was surprising was learning that he has his weekends completely to himself. If anything, he assumed he’d just work more as time went on, but no. Turns out he threatened to kill the higher-ups if they didn’t let him have that when you two got married.
Satoru looks over your body once.
Twice.
He totally understands his future self.
He looks again for a third time, and you just so conveniently turn around, showing off your cute, frilly little apron covered in flour streaks.
It’s Sunday— you’ve been baking sweet treats all morning, and he wishes he had been a little nicer to you. Especially a couple of days ago when he snapped at you.
You had found him sitting alone on the balcony, head in his hands from yet another day of failure.
“Hey… any good news?”
“No,” he said impatiently. “If there was, I wouldn’t fucking be here right now.”
“Fair enough.” Your voice took a dip as you looked at the ground, allowing yourself to feel a little hurt for a moment before trying to lift the mood again. “Well… me and Sai stopped by your favorite bakery and got you the cookies you like if you wanted some—“
“No— no,” Satoru cut you off. “I don’t want your fucking cookies. I don’t want to do a family movie night where all we watch is Ms. Rachel. I don’t want to read some book about a mouse trying to become a fucking painter over and over again. I don’t want ANY of it. I want to fucking go home— what part about that do you not get?”
You tried to stand as straight as possible despite your shoulders growing heavier, pushing against the small frown threatening to carve itself across your face. You forgot how mean he used to be, at least during that first year of dating him. It only stings more because the man you married would never raise his voice like that, and you remind yourself that this isn’t him.
After a long pause, he looked up at you and immediately felt guilt wash over him.
“I didn’t mean that,” he tried to meet your eyes as he began to backtrack. “I’m sorry, I just— fuck. I didn’t mean any of that—”
“It’s fine.” You forced yourself to look at him again and smile. “I’ll uh… give you some space.”
The one thing about Satoru is that he doesn’t apologize. Like ever. So, one could only imagine how painfully awkward it was later that night when he knocked on your bedroom door to say he was sorry. It didn’t help that you were in a paper-thin silk slip, skin glistening from the lotion you rubbed all over it— he spent half his time trying not to stare at your tits. Had you been anyone else, it wouldn’t have felt as genuine.
But thank fuck he apologized, you probably would’ve spent all day ignoring him.
You raise a brow, and his cheeks start to pink. “What are you staring at?”
“Nothing, you just–” he awkwardly gestures at your entire body, “there’s flour all over you.”
It almost sounds like he’s offended by it. He kind of is. You keep your foot on his fucking neck— he doesn’t even know why he came out here.
“Oh, right— 'cause messes have always bothered you,” you lean over the island ever so slightly. The pink on his cheeks darkens as you do, unable to control his eyes from drifting down to your cleavage. And while he’s not exactly ashamed of looking— you are his wife after all— he can’t help but be a little flustered.
He’s always had a thing for milfs.
Especially when said milf is talking about messes— he knows a couple of places he could make a mess on right now.
“Nah,” he rests his elbows on the marble counter as a playful grin stretches across his face. “This is nothing compared to how I like it.”
You tilt your head, a small laugh escaping you as you rest your chin over your palm, curious to see where this conversation will get you.
“How do you like it?” you ask, as if you didn’t already know how filthy and depraved he could get when he’s alone in a room with you.
And you fucking miss that.
He opens his mouth to respond.
Then you hear your daughter whimpering about waking up alone. It’s nothing new, and you revert back to mom mode as you watch her turn the corner and waddle towards you.
Satoru, on the other hand, is not used to this. The slightly bruised laugh he lets out just barely masks his desire to fucking scream. What a fucking cockblock— no wonder you only have one kid.
His kid completely ignores his existence as she wraps herself around your leg, continuing to whimper despite no actual tears streaming down her cheeks. “I had a nightmawh.”
Meanwhile, there’s Satoru, who has yet to wake up from his very own nightmare. He internally sighs, then attempts to grab her attention because it doesn’t feel very good watching her give it all to you. “You wanna share a muffin with daddy?”
It’s starting to sound more natural.
“Y-yeah,” she sniffles.
Minutes later, she’s sitting on his lap, absolutely demolishing the blueberry muffin they ended up splitting— a complete 180. He couldn’t be mad, even if he tried.
His little girl was a dream.
—
Month two. Ijichi is still as useless as ever. He stopped complaining to you about him, though. You noticed he doesn’t talk about going back to his original timeline all that much anymore.
It’s not like Satoru’s given up hope, he’s just more present, as if he finally realized that wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to send him back any faster. He’s unknowingly more like his future self— laid back, not a care in the world.
He’s even sleeping in for once. It’s not that hard though when Sai’s gone for the day. She seemed to care more about getting the hell out of the house with her grandparents than greeting her father a good morning. You didn’t push her to, either— figuring Satoru needed the sleep. He always does.
It’s too bad that his phone started blowing up at around 10:00 am. Unfortunately for you, he left his phone in the living room, leaving you to get up and grab it since the master bedroom was the closest room to it. With how thick the walls are, you doubt he’d even hear it.
With a long sigh, you rise from bed, rubbing the sleep off your eyes as you snatch the stupid phone off the coffee table.
The snores coming from Satoru reach your ears before you even open the door. You have to hold back a laugh as you walk in and take a look at him. Face down, his long limbs sprawled over the bed, messy white hair sticking out in all directions.
You reach out and place a gentle hand on his shoulder, surprised infinity is off.
“Toru?” He stirs a bit, and you cautiously attempt to wake him up again. “Toru— someone’s been trying to call you for the past 10 minutes now.”
He lifts his head, eyes still sealed shut as he murmurs, “Who?”
“Uhh,” you look at the screen, unsure of who it might be. “Your contact name for them is nerd.”
You know it’s not Ijichi because his contact name is “courage 🐶” in his phone. Someone else must've annoyed Satoru for him to change yet another contact.
Satoru shoves his head back into the pillow and groans before taking the phone off your hands.
It’s Nanami. He, of all people, should know now is not the time to be blowing up his phone right now because he is fucking sleeping. It’s a Saturday for fucks sake.
Satoru sighs and accepts the call, grumbling into the phone. “What?”
Nanami cuts straight to the chase, as he would rather be doing anything else right now.
“How long are you planning on hiding your secret from the higher-ups?” he asks in a clipped tone.
Satoru rubs his eyes, too tired to return the same sense of urgency his friend seems to have at the moment. “Forever.”
“Don’t give me that.” A vein pops up on the side of the usually stoic man’s forehead. “They asked me about you this morning. They know something’s up. I can’t keep covering for you if it means my own safety’s on the line.”
“You really haven’t changed, have you?” It’s more of a statement than a question.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean—“
“You’ll be fine,” Satoru cuts him off. “They’re always up my ass anyway. I doubt they’re even suspicious. They just don’t know how to mind their own fuckin’ business. Seriously. You’re worrying over nothing right now.”
“I swear to god Gojo, if you—“
“Kay’ good night.”
Click.
Nanami’s probably fuming right now, but he’ll get over it. Satoru wanted to enjoy this. Lying in a comfy bed, surrounded by nothing but peace and quiet. He closes his eyes and stretches a bit, then rests his hands behind his head.
He would’ve forgotten that you were still sitting at the edge of the bed had you not lightly cleared your throat. One eye opens to look at you, then closes. The last thing he wants to do is share the reason why Nanami had been blowing up his phone all morning.
“Just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not here.” You cross your arms. “What was that all about?”
“Nothin’,” he easily says. “Just Nanami being Nanami— the guy’s a fuckin’ stickler for no reason.”
“That’s a little rude, no?” you chastise him.
“So is waking me up.”
“Sai wakes you up all the time, though.”
“Sai’s a ball of sunshine,” he says, quickly coming to her defense. “Not a grown man with depression— where is she by the way?”
“She’s spending the afternoon with my parents.”
Both eyes open this time, and stay open. “Why didn’t you go with them?”
“No way,” you wave a hand. “I need a break, too.”
“Yeah, no— I’m sure,” he agrees, feeling flustered all the sudden.
And Satoru being Satoru, he doesn’t do a very good job of hiding it, once again forgetting that you can read him better than anyone else can.
You smile, scooching closer, “You good there?”
“Yeah, m’fine,” he murmurs, trying not to shift around too much.
“I can take care of that, you know.”
“What?”
“That.” You look down at the boner he’s been trying to hide since finding out it’s just you two here.
“That’s not—“ His brain straight up short-circuits. “You don’t think that’s weird?”
“No.” You continue to inch forward, getting closer to him. “Do you think it’s weird?”
“No— never,” he shakes his head, answering a little too fast. “Fuck— won’t future me get mad?”
“Not at all. The most he’d probably do is make me show him what we did.”
“Make you show him?” he repeats after you in disbelief.
“Is that a problem?”
“No, that’s— that’s fuckin’ hot.”
Minutes later, you’re leaning forward with your hand wrapped around his base, and his breath catches as you start to slowly pump his cock.
“Feel good?”
His lids lower as he hums, “yeah— keep going.”
You lean forward, letting a string of spit fall from your lips to the tip of his cock, letting it mix with the precum that was already beading down from it. The wet sounds of you stroking him begin to grow, making the heat in between your legs start to pool.
“Can I sit on it?” You look up at him, batting your lashes as you innocently ask.
“Please,” he blurts out, just about ready to start begging you to.
You’d be lying if you said you weren’t just as eager as him after all the weeks spent pretending like you don’t notice the way he stares at you. Lustfully. The slip you’re wearing happens to be extra short today, so you forego stripping down and practically pounce on him. Your soaked panties grazing over his rock-hard length as you straddle him, letting yourself get comfortable while Satoru grows impatient.
His hands find themselves planted on your hips and pull you down. A low groan escapes him as he grinds you against him. “God— fuck me. Please.”
“Well, since you’re being so sweet—”
You reach down, hooking a finger into the fabric of your panties, pulling them to the side. He’s already lining himself up with your entrance, teasing your hole as he runs his tip through your folds, collecting all the slick. His lips part as he watches in awe at how damn wet you are.
His head tips back as you lower yourself, groaning and rambling to himself as if you weren’t there to hear it all.
"Fuck. You’re so hot.” His words come out strained as he watches you start to take him inch by inch, slowly working yourself open. “So fuckin’ tight, too.”
“Mmm— forgot how big you are.” Your voice is all soft and breathy from the fullness, nails slowly digging into his abs as you bottom out.
It takes a minute to adjust— it has been 3 months after all. But then you finally roll your hips, and Satoru almost starts singing praises at how good you are at that— lifting your hips all the way up and throwing them back, taking all of him.
"Fuck yeah– just like that," he breathes, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. "Feels so fucking good."
You murmur back a measly, “kay,” already dizzy from the stretch. You’re able to keep up the pace on your own for a bit, until you feel his grip on you tighten and the sounds of skin slapping against his start to grow as he starts to help you out.
You wouldn’t exactly call it help though, not when he ended up doing all the work— holding you steady while he practically bounces you on his cock, pulling more and more moans out of you as the head of his cock repeatedly kissed your sweet spot with almost no effort.
"You take it so good," he groans, pupils blown wide as he starts to feel himself lose control, snapping his hips up a little harder than the last. He wants more, he always wants more— so he pulls you forward and pulls your straps down far enough for your tits to spill out. "Perfect fuckin’ tits. Been thinking about these for weeks."
You let out a surprised gasp as he pops a nipple in his mouth with no warning. You fully believe him with the way he starts sucking and swirling and flicking his tongue over your sensitive bud, all while snapping his hips up harder.
He pulls back with a pop, looking up at you for approval. “Was that good?”
“Mhm.” There’s a fucked out expression on your face as you weakly nod. “Harder.”
“You want me to fuck you harder?”
“Yeah.”
Something in him snaps. Eager to please you, he flips you over and folds you underneath him— grabbing the back of your knees and pinning them to your chest so he can drive his cock into you deeper.
“Better?”
He drives his hips forward again, knocking the air out of your lungs. “God— yes.”
“I can’t— fuck— can’t believe you’re all mine, can’t believe I get to have you,” he starts to ramble as the sounds of him absolutely pounding into you fill the room. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect— all of you.”
He crashes his lips into yours— the kiss is messy, powered by hunger. Satoru’s always been overwhelming, but it’s been years since it’s been this emotionally intense. He fucks you like he needs you, like he’s been waiting for you all his life.
Your walls begin to squeeze and flutter around his cock, pulling another groan out of him. “You close?”
“Yeah,” you whine, feeling the pressure begin to coil. “Keep going.”
He’s close too, you can tell by how sloppy his thrusts have grown, no longer trying to control himself as he starts chasing after both of your releases. He shoves his face into the crook of your neck and fucks you faster, harder— balls slapping against your ass with each lewd wet squelch.
Your orgasm hits you hard after one particularly rough thrust. Scratching at his back as a cry tears through you, and it only goes straight to his dick, not even realizing just how overstimulated you are from the way he drills into you.
“Fuck.” It’s just one word that comes out of his mouth after realizing how hard he’s about to fucking cum. He bites into your shoulder as his balls start to tighten, squeezing his eyes shut as he braces himself.
When it happens, it’s a lot. He shoves himself deep inside of you, unaware of all the weight he puts on you as hot spurts of cum begin to flood your walls. Slowly grinding against you, letting your tight pussy milk the rest of him.
You’re wrecked by the end of it. You both are— lids tired and heavy, bodies sore and out of breath.
And in the end, you just let yourself fall asleep, unaware of the soft kiss pressed against your temple as he watched you.
—
It’s month three, and Satoru doesn’t want to go back.
What was the point? It’s not like he had anyone or anything to go back to. Jujutsu Society never crumbled from him getting shot into the future. Would it really be that bad if he just never went back and continued on with his life from here?
He hasn’t uttered a word about it out loud, but the way he completely stopped asking Yaga and Ijichi for updates was telling of where he was at mentally.
Acceptance.
He likes his life here.
You’ve come to your own conclusion after these last three months.
No wonder why he was so hot and cold when you were trying to get to know him. Satoru got a little taste of genuine comfort, only for it to be ripped away from him sometime before you two actually met. It explains all the times you wondered why he even tried with you, despite being too emotionally inept to even be in a relationship. He probably went through the beginning of your relationship thinking you could disappear at any second.
With that being said, he can’t stay here. As much as you’d love to continue being the source of comfort for this version of Satoru, he needs to experience the last year he spent alone before meeting you. He needs to feel cautious around you. He needs to try and fail at opening up a handful of times before getting comfortable with the idea of truly being vulnerable with a person. Getting over that element of fear he had towards getting close to others is what made him a husband and father— he couldn’t just skip that part of his life.
You have no idea how you’re going to tell him that, though. You’re not one to kick a sick puppy, especially one as cute as him. He’s so happy here with you and Sai that the thought of doing so makes your chest ache.
He’s having a tea party with Sai right now, limbs way too long to sit in the little stool she pulled up for him to sit in. He drinks imaginary tea from the plastic pink cup she hands him, and your chest aches some more. You force yourself to look away before the tears start.
You’d do the next 11 years all over again if you could.
“Hey, Honey?” Satoru calls out to you.
There’s a pause before you whip your head around— it’s been months since he’s called you that. There’s nothing but warmth and fondness in his eyes as his gaze meets yours. “Why is Nanami’s number saved under ‘nerd’ in my phone?”
He’s back.
“I don’t know,” you laugh, despite the tear falling down your cheek. “You tell me.”
—
Satoru didn’t want to believe it when everything around him went dark once again. It’s not until his feet touch the ground with a soft thud and he finds himself back in his messy, cold dorm when reality slapped him across the face.
Something between a sob and a gut-wrenching scream rips from his throat. Grabbing the round shades he had hoped he’d never have to fucking wear again, he rips them off his face and sends it crashing into the wall, breaking into a hundred little pieces. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t give himself a chance to even breathe or think before raising his hand and releasing a purple orb with just a flick of his fingers.
Impulsive. Reckless. Deadly.
Satoru was fucking devastated.
Nobody knew what triggered him that night. All they knew was that the east wing of the school looked like it had been hit by an asteroid by the time he calmed down. He didn’t speak to anyone for a good two weeks following the incident. Everyone wants to think he was lucky the explosion didn’t have any casualties, but then they remembered who he was: Satoru fucking Gojo.
God’s don’t get punished, nor do natural disasters— it’s hard to tell which one he was at this point.
One Year Later
“If it’s that small of a curse, why are you sending me there?” Satoru continues to argue with one of the new managers over the phone.
It wasn’t that small of a curse. It was a grade one. But still, given the sorcerer’s title as a special grade, he was overqualified for the job.
“I’m sorry, we just don’t have anyone available to take on the case at the moment.” The young woman continues to apologize over the phone. “I think we might have a grade 3 available for the job. I- I can check—”
“Save it.” Satoru cuts her off. He wasn’t that heartless to push the case off to some 15 year old. That’s exactly how Haibara died. “Send me the address.”
The mission was nothing short of an inconvenience for him. He liked a challenge when exorcising curses, and the damn thing didn’t even put up a fucking fight. He traveled 2 hours to get here just for that? Unbelievable.
He wasn’t ready to leave and sit on a train for another 2 hours just yet, so he decided to walk around the town for a bit.
It was a cute place, a little quiet. Kinda boring. That’s never a bad thing, though. Lots of mom and pop shops, a few coffee shops scattered around, one of which he decided to try. A little sugar’s always good, at least to him.
The smell of vanilla and roasted coffee beans hit him as he walked into the place. There was a decent amount of customers inside. Not too much to feel crowded, but enough to stay busy. He keeps his eyes on the menu the entire time. The line moves fast, and he figures out what he wants just in time.
“And what can I get started for you today?”
His eyes are still on the screen, reading the item off the menu.
“Can I get a white chocolate mocha frappuccino, with an extra pump of…” his words die out, and his eyes widen as he finally looks at the girl taking his order. “Hey.”
“Hi.” You laugh at the way this stranger loses his train of thought. “Extra pump of white chocolate syrup?”
“Yeah.” He exhales, unable to rip his eye off you as you write the words down on the plastic cup with a sharpie.
“Name for the order?”
“Go– Satoru,” he corrects himself. “It’s Satoru.”
He’s a little awkward, but you still find him quite charming and smile. “Alright, Satoru. Your order should be ready in about 10 minutes.”
“Awesome. Thanks,” he nods rather pathetically, then goes to sit in an empty corner of the shop with only one thought in mind:
He has 10 minutes to come up with what to say to get your number.
Helloooo! Is anyone interested in reading stories like cyberpunk world, time dimension(?) or a robot living in our modern world that’s programmed to hurt or arrest the bad people with their own justifications but no one knows about the robot. The robot became an abandon project by the government. It’s gory, the writing is. Anyways it’s rwllly good. My boyfriend is writing it and I want to show some support 😊
Here the link! https://www.tumblr.com/himik0-0/813288800506740736/post-by-stoneleopard
💬 0 🔁 0 ❤️ 0 · Post by @stoneleopard · Here’s a quick story I would love for you guys to check out! It’s great!! This was the story I was
│Summary: The first-born daughter of the Metkayina Olo'eyktan is what must be paid for peace with the ash people. If he can catch you, he can keep you.
All the clans of Pandora know the story of the Mangkwan people.
The human avatar who mated with the daughter of the Omatikaya Olo’eyktan and tsahik gave himself to Eywa after the war with the humans ended. He became one of the people, and he was well respected as the sixth Toruk Makto since the time of the first songs.
After his mate’s mother and father died during the attack from the RDA, he became Olo’eyktan with his mate at his side as the tsahik. He now held the position of the highest power in the clan.
Despite living through the transfer from his human body to his avatar body, he doubted his belief in Eywa. He blamed himself for the sheer number of losses throughout the many clans who came to the Omatikaya’s aid. He suffered in silence until his pain turned to anger pointed towards the Great Mother who he had begged for help from.
She did not come.
He managed to poison the people’s minds. He convinced them that Eywa would never come to save the people, that they needed the metal from his weapons to survive after they watched hometree burn to the ground.
He told them this was the only way to protect themselves against the RDA.
The people followed his word because they were weak and angry at what the humans had done. They trusted him to do what was best for the people. He was Toruk Makto after all.
Familiarizing themselves with metal was their first mistake. They dared to commit direct disobedience to the Great Mother.
The ash fell from the sky day and night, coating their land, massacring nature and animals with it. The fire burned through the roots of the trees, killing the biological connection to Eywa. They painted their dark blue skin red, mixed it with ash, dug scars into their skin and became a new breed of Omatikaya.
The ash people.
Their faith in the Great Mother disappeared overnight. Their minds were poisoned by a human. Eywa would never come to save them now.
Slowly but surely, they rebuilt, and life began to bloom for them as they took to other ways to survive. They were evil and spared not a single soul.
The ash people raided villages across many clans, taking what was there and sacrificing the people before burning down the villages and leaving nothing behind. Entire families were wiped out, no one left to remember them. This was how the Olo’eyktan and tsahik provided for their people, even if it came at the expense of others.
Although the RDA had left, their family was never truly safe.
Decades had passed; two sons were born but eventually the humans returned. Jake Sully, Neytiri, and their first-born son, Neteyam, were captured and killed by the RDA, leaving their second-born son, Lo’ak, to assume the position of Olo’eyktan.
Without a tsahik, the people began to suffer. The Olo’eyktan of the Metkayina decided to create peace between the two clans to protect his people if needed. When the day came that the ash people made their way to the eastern sea reefs, he would offer his first-born daughter in exchange for harmony.
A new tsahik for the Mangkwan.
Some say it was justified, others disagree, but no one truly knew what it was like for the ash people. Neither did you, until your father sold you like cattle to these monstrous people all for the sake of peace.
The night was young when the sirens blared throughout the village. The moon shines bright, the stars sparkle along with it as the waves in the ocean crash together. Ilu restlessly chirp out to each other, continuing to play long into the night. A cold breeze blows through the air, clinging to your body while you rush to grab a weapon.
You ran through the village, spear in hand, as you made your way to the crowd of your people. The warriors crowded around as they stared into the night sky watching the winged animals fly close to the water.
There were many, and it was hard to tell who it was until they landed. Their nightwraiths screeched, their wings beat frantically kicking up the sand as the ash people arrived. You cough from breathing in the debris, covering your mouth with your hand until it settles.
Your father had prepared for this. He prepared the people for the day the Mangkwan would come to raid their village. He trained you personally, to be able to stay strong for the people if there ever came a time where you needed to step up in his place.
Your mother was long gone, dead from complications during the birth of your sister. Neither of them made it in the end. It was the two of you, you and your father, and you learned how to do tsahik duties, but you did not hold the power of one.
What your father didn’t prepare you for, was his betrayal.
You stood close to your father, waiting patiently for his word. Tension grew in the air. Bows and spears against the ash people’s metal guns. You had no fear. Eywa would not choose the side of metal if it came down to it.
The Olo’eyktan slid off his winged beast, moving fast and sharp across the sand. The others stayed back, waiting for their signal.
Your eyes scanned him. Metal rings pierced the muscle of his biceps; bones were weaved through the skin of his abdomen and through his kuru. His body was painted a dark red, ash covered the rest of him. The sides of his head were shaved; his body was slim but muscular.
His movements were sleek, trained, focused, he never missed a beat.
“Perfect. You have gathered the people here for their deaths. You made this too easy for me,” he says, snickering as he scans the group of Metakyina.
“I have a proposition. One for peace between our clans,” your father says, moving forward to close the gap between him and the ash Olo’eyktan.
“I’m listening.”
“My first-born daughter for the safety of my people,” he says. His strong voice boomed across the village. He would never beg. If this man accepted you, then that would be the end of it, but if he didn’t then the Metkayina would fight for what was theirs.
All eyes landed on you. You gasped at your fathers’ words, confused as to why he would do this, why he would even suggest such a thing. It felt like you had been stabbed in the heart. The one person you truly cared for didn’t think twice of sacrificing you for everyone else.
The ash man’s eyes left your fathers and fell on you instead. Your face turns into a scowl, snarling under his gaze.
He stalks closer, circling around you as you continue to stand your ground. You would not look weak in front of these disgusting monsters.
He stops in front of you, running a finger along the length of your jaw. You show your fangs to him, warning him not to underestimate you.
He leans down to your ear, whispering, “I am assuming that is you. Am I right?”
His other hand reaches for your kuru, running the thick braid through his fingers as he pulls his face away from you. You deliberately ignore his question, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of you speaking when he speaks to you.
“And if I said yes,” he asks, talking to your father but continuing to look towards you.
“She would be yours to take. A symbol of peace between the two clans.”
You grow angrier by the second. Your blood boils and your skin grows hot. Every word that falls from your father’s mouth feels like tiny shards of glass flying at you and piercing through the skin.
“Hmmm, that is very tempting,” he says, smirking down at you. A devious glint in his eyes.
You take a second to really look at him. Sweat beading along his skin, washing away the ash, and leaving small spots where his blue skin shines through. Bumps raising along his skin in their protest of the Great Mother.
He was only a man born into a family who chose the wrong path. At the end of the day, that was never his choice. Underneath his façade, he was just like you, blue skinned and one of the people.
A spark of understanding lit deep inside you, but you pushed it down as far as you could. These people killed for fun, and took what wasn’t theirs. There was no way to justify their actions no matter how understandable it might be so there was no reason to waste your time trying to.
“Do you wish to leave with me sweet girl,” he says, barely above a whisper, “for the sake of these people?”
His words bring you back to reality, and you bite towards the hand running along your jaw.
“I would never choose to leave with you.”
He smiles, laughing softly, “what if we play a game? I give you 30 seconds to run, and if I catch you within five minutes then you are mine. If I don’t, I will kill all your people with my bare hands.”
Your eyes widen at his words, and it excites him even more. He pushed away from you until he stood a few feet away.
“One…”
He was already counting down. You turn around so quickly you trip over your own feet. You push frantically through the people so you could run as fast and as far away as you possibly could.
“Two… this is fun.”
Your feet pound against the ground of the village, your heart beats through your chest and your breathing becomes rapid as you sprint faster.
“Three…”
You can still hear him in the distance. You make your way through the trees, stumbling over a root, and falling to your knees. Small cuts bleed from your bright blue skin as you push yourself up to continue to run.
“Four…”
The sound of blood pumping through your body is heard in your ears, your skin was on fire but beyond sweaty. Your ears stay perked up, listening for the crunch of footsteps behind you. Your arms will you to run faster through the brush.
Adrenaline courses through your veins, and for a split second it feels exciting. Putting distance between you and the village, you tell yourself it still was not enough. Your thoughts were quickly cut off from the sound of a leaf crunching behind you. Has it already been 30 seconds?
To hide or to continue running?
You had no time to debate between your options, so you slid behind a tree. The skin of your back rubs raw against the bark as you slide down to sit on the cold hard ground. You try to catch your breath while staying quiet, but your legs sting, and sharp pains come from your ribs with every short breath you take.
Your breath catches in your throat at the sound of a twig cracking under pressure behind you. Your lungs burn as you hold in a breath you don’t have. You pray to Eywa, for her to come save you and the people.
Deep down, you doubted that she heard you.
“Sweet girl, I know you are here. I can smell your delicious fear.”
Your eyes close, and your ears lay flat against your head. A few beats pass and you hear nothing. Just when you think he might have moved on from this area to look elsewhere, you hear something.
Another leaf crunches, but this time it was from right behind the tree you sat in front of. You look behind you to see him standing tall, smirking down at you. An animalistic gaze present in his large, yellow dilated eyes.
A cat and mouse game. He was your only predator. You are his only prey.
He grabs you by the throat, pulling you up from the ground. You kick your legs and scream weakly, but it does nothing for you other than make you more tired than you already were. Once you calm down, he speaks.
“According to the rules, this makes you mine.”
“Please don’t make me go,” you beg, tears run down your cheeks, barely able to speak as his grip restricts your airway.
“What is here that makes you want to stay sweetheart? Even your own father is willing to give you away in exchange for peace,” he whispers, pity in his eyes as he wipes away a tear.
He was right. Why would your father do this? Why would this be the only solution?
He sees the realization in your eyes, and he drops you down to the ground. Your knees buckle and you grab onto his arm to prevent yourself from falling. Your fingers graze past the metal pierced into his skin and you physically cringe away from him.
“You will always be mine now, and I take pride in caring for what is mine,” he says, grabbing onto your wrist tight.
You gaze up at him. This man in front of you was your worst enemy, and now you were his to do whatever with.
The moon illuminated him from behind, casting a soft glow against his grey skin. His face was rigid, his eyes harsh as he stared down at you. You can’t help but feel fascinated by his different way of life. Metkayina and Omatikaya were different, yes, but the same values and beliefs are shared across all clans. Where had his parents gone wrong?
“What is your name,” you ask, barely above a whisper as you stand up straight. You might as well know more about him if you would be leaving your village with him.
His eyes soften for a second at the simple question, “Lo’ak. I’m sure you know I am the Olo’eyktan of my clan. Our arrangement is purely transactional, pleasure and stability in exchange for peace. Nothing more, nothing less.”
You sigh moving slightly to signal that you were ready to leave. To go where? You had no clue but apparently you also had no choice either. It was very unlike you not to protest, but your spirits had been brought down from your fathers’ words. Nothing could ever compare to that feeling.
He practically drags you back out of the forest and through the village by your wrist because your legs were beyond weak from sprinting. The people continued to stand in a crowd around the ash people, unmoving as they waited for their fate. Anger flashed on your face when you saw your fathers’ shoulders relax at the sight of you being dragged by Lo’ak.
As if he was relieved the people would live another day because you got caught. Hatred bubbles in your lower stomach. You had always looked up to your father. He put on a strong, stable front that was admirable, but deep down he was a weak excuse of a man.
A repulsive coward.
Maybe you should be glad to get away from him if you could be so easily given away. You shake that thought from your head as you try to see it from his perspective. The people's lives were at stake, and you were the only one who held enough meaning to be offered.
That still does not make sense. Offer something else, anything else. A trade deal, a labor deal, anything else other than you.
Your heart ached. You were beyond angry with your father but there was nothing you could do now. Lo’ak guides you over to his nightwraith, sliding his hands around your waist before hoisting you up onto the large, winged animal.
He slides himself behind you, pressing his body against yours before he speaks for the last time.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take real good care of her,” he says, before winking down at your father with a smirk pulling on his lips. How disgusting you thought. Your father says nothing back. You watch as he simply dismisses the people to go back to what they were doing as if he didn’t just trade his daughter for them.
“Hold on tight sweetheart. You are going to want to,” he whispers, leaning down to your ear. His breath so close to your skin sends shivers down your spine, and his hands snake around your waist as he reaches for the reins. You grab onto his forearms, steadying yourself as he calls out to the clan.
The ash people whoop after him, and Lo’ak’s nightwraith takes flight. The people follow closely. The night air was cold as it blew through your hair. Your back pressed into Lo’ak’s chest, your nails dug into the skin of his arms as you familiarized yourself with the animals’ movements.
By the time the ash people reached their village, the sun was resting low on the horizon. You had fallen asleep with your head laid back on Lo’ak’s shoulder. You woke up from the screeches as the nightwraith landed.
Your eyes widen from the shock of your surroundings.
When people told stories of what happened to the ash people’s land, they never made it seen as bad as it truly was. The ground was dry and cracked, the color resembled the sand from your home. The air was humid and dusty from the ash that continued to fall years later. In the distance, fires still raged on, even with nothing left to burn.
“Come on,” Lo’ak says as he slides off the back of the nightwraith. He holds his hand out for you to take. Your legs tremble as your feet fall to the ground, but he keeps you steady.
He pulls you through the village, greeting the ash people who bow down to him as he walks by. His head was held high; his shoulders sat all the way back. His back was broad and muscular; each muscle flexed with every step he took.
You cough from the ash in the air, the stark contrast from your home to here was extreme. The air was thick, the heat was scorching, and your feet burned from the contact of the ground as you walked closely behind Lo’ak.
The ash people stared. A bright blue skinned woman walking through their village must have left them very curious. Men and women sat outside of their tents, polishing metal guns and sharpening custom knives. Breastfeeding babies and washing off children.
Overhead, people patrolled the village on larger nightwraiths, calling out to each other as their animals screeched into the sky. The sound travels with a base to it, rocking through your body as vibrations while you continue to walk.
Your eyes scan closer. Bones hung on poles, skulls of their enemies, arranged to match the skeleton before deconstruction. Children ran around, their toys as bones carved into different shapes. Looking past Lo’ak, a large tent sat centered in the back of the village.
As you approach the entrance, Lo’ak pushes the flap back, stepping into the tent before you. You follow close behind.
A fire burned low in the center, surrounded by stones to keep it contained. The lighting was dim, the fire casted shadows along the back wall creating an ominous feeling unintentionally. The room was colder than outside, the shade of the tent allowing the air to cool it down.
Beads were threaded onto strings that hung along the walls of the tent. They clinked softly together as a breeze blew through the front flap. Medicines, pastes, salves, and bandages sit on the far-right wall resting on hand carved shelves. On the other wall, pristine guns hung from strips of wood, swinging back and forth ever so slightly.
Writing in red paint covered the fabrics in a language you could not read. The same strokes over and over again. Overlapping the last one multiple times. Images were painted repeatedly, nightmares that belong to someone. It was all very intriguing
Lo’ak clears his throat in front of you. He had let go of your hand and turned to look at you, but you were so engrossed in your surroundings that you had forgotten he was even there. He admired the way you found his home interesting.
It was now your home after all.
Your gaze finds his, and for some reason you blush from being caught staring at his things.
“Sorry I was…”
“You do not have to explain yourself. Take off your top,” he says, gesturing towards the beaded top that rested on top of your bright blue skin.
“Why do I need to take my top off?”
“I was looking at your back on the way here. I need to put something on the scratches, so they do not continue to fester.”
Hearing his words made you realize your back was burning. When you slid down against the bark of the tree it shredded your skin. You wince as you bring your hands up to the ties of your top, letting it fall down your arms.
Lo’ak takes the top from you, setting it on a wooden table. His hand reaches out for you, and you take it hesitantly. No one had ever seen you like this, and it was strange for him to be the first to say the least.
He leads you over to a bundle of furs that lay over top of each other on the ground. You sat down with your knees bent and ankles crossed. Your body sinks into the fabrics, plush and soft against your skin. Lo’ak grabbed a glass jar from one of the shelves along the wall. He opens it, gathering some of the white paste on his fingers before sitting down behind you, resting back on his heels.
Slowly, he rubs the paste along the skin of your back. His fingers warm the cold feeling that rushes through you. A shiver runs down your spine from the innocent touch of him. His fingers were rough, calloused, but firm and gentle.
There was no reason for you to say no when he said he would put something on the scratches. Why let yourself suffer if you did not have to just to be difficult? The only person it would harm would be you.
Once he is done, he pushes himself up to stand while gazing down at you.
“You should rest and eat something. There is a ceremony tonight.”
You look behind your shoulder gazing up at him as he speaks.
“Ceremony for what?”
“The initiation of our new tsahik,” he whispers, grinning down at you. With that, he was turning to walk out of the tent, pushing past the flap and he was gone. The new tsahik? You? The tsahik of the Mangkwan?
Your father wouldn’t even formally make you the tsahik of the Metkayina people. He let you do the duties for years, but every time you asked him, he said you had not earned the title yet.
You sigh; your mind was going a mile a minute. Why did your father do this? How could he do this and sleep at night? He didn’t even say bye; he didn’t care that you were leaving with this monster.
You sit in this unfamiliar tent, in this far away barren wasteland with no one you know, and now after tonight you would hold just as much power as their Olo’eyktan. You lay your back flat against the furs underneath you. The fibers were soft and comforting, reminding you of your own furs you kept in your hammock back at home.
It dawns on you. This was your new home. What was your purpose? Lo’ak said the arrangement was to provide pleasure and stability. What did the tsahik do if not to interpret the will of Eywa? Who would you please? Lo’ak? Or many?
You physically shake your head to clear your thoughts, taking in a deep breath to steady yourself back in reality. Your fingers dig into the furs, resting there. Your legs stretch out reaching closer to the fire. Warmth spread through you as your eyes grew heavy. You were close to sleep.
Willing yourself to calm down, your breathing evens and your heart beats slower. Your eyes fall closed and you let yourself feel the ambiance of the tent.
The heat of the fire coats your skin, the furs sooth the scratches along your back. The soft clinking of the beads lining the wall reminded you of windchimes you would make with seashells and hang inside of your marui. The crackle of the embers was the opposite of the sound of waves crashing together that lulled you to sleep every night, but you could not lie and say you did not enjoy it.
Before you knew it, you were deep in sleep, tossing and turning against the furs as you drooled down your chin. You had been so tired once you were woken up after landing in the village.
It feels like only minutes had passed before you were being shaken awake.
“Sweetheart, you have to get up before you miss your own ceremony,” Lo’ak says, shaking you gently.
You rub the sleep from your eyes as you sit up off the furs. The sun no longer shined in through the gaps of the tent, and the air was much colder than it was before. Have you really slept for that long? You bend your knees, pulling your legs closer to your body as you situate yourself.
“Brought you some jerky and water. The people are preparing their offerings for you,” he says, sitting down in front of you.
“I don’t want them to do that for me,” you say, barely above a whisper as you try to wake yourself up more.
“This is the way of the ash people. There is no one else to worship other than the tsahik and Olo’eyktan. The people kiss the ground the tsahik walks on and hold the utmost respect for the Olo’eyktan.”
You watch as he reaches down beside you, grabbing a small jar. Red paints, clothing, food, and water sit just off the furs. The sight alone overstimulated you and a shiver ran down your spine at the thought of pretending you were like these people.
Your throat was feeling dry, so you reached down, bringing the small cup to your mouth and gulping the water down. Lo’ak laughs softly and you glare at him.
“What is so funny?” An unforgiving attitude was present in your tone.
“There is more if you need some,” he says, looking down at the jar in his hand before dumping some of the powder out into his palm.
White ash.
“To be an ash person, you must feel like one, and to feel like one you must look like one,” he whispers, almost as if it was a mantra he had to repeat to himself.
You stay quiet, letting his words sink in. You reach down for some of the jerky and begin eating slowly.
“Mind if I get started? I shouldn’t be in your way.”
You nod your head, you didn’t mind. Whatever would get you easily through this night works for you. You dreaded having to present yourself to the people the way Lo’ak said you would have to. Worshipping you was the last thing you wanted them to do. They would be bowing down to a fraud.
His fingers brush along your face, your forehead, your nose, your chin, your cheeks. He moves down to your neck, behind your ears, over your shoulders, along your collar bone. He moves even further, in between your bare breasts, over the plush skin, brushing across your nipples.
Your nipples grow hard from his light touches, and his breath catches in his throat for only a second. Your gaze finds his hungrily, and you can’t help but feel your core grow wet from the accidental stimulation.
His fingers brush across your stomach, reaching lower and lower. Your skin recoils as his hand brushes along the skin below your belly button. You watch closely as his hand reaches for the ties to your loincloth. He unties them quickly before looking up at you.
“Mind if I pull it down slightly to finish?”
You nod your head again. You were afraid if you said anything a moan would escape instead, so you purse your lips together and pretend like that wasn’t the case.
He was kind, you thought to yourself. He never pushes, asks for permission, and gives you decisions even if they aren’t fair. That had to mean something. You knew that deep down he was a completely different person. You wondered if you would ever reach a point where you were able to see him for who he truly was on the inside, and not how he presented himself on the outside.
He slides the loincloth down, letting it pool in between your spread legs, and there, right in the middle was a wet spot. So visible you couldn’t mistake it for anything else.
You can see him look up at you out of your peripheral vision, and you blush as his eyes burn against your skin. You keep your gaze down, too embarrassed at how easily you become wet from his innocent touches.
Lo’ak continues as if he didn’t see it, but you knew he was thinking about it.
He moved behind you, brushing ash onto the skin of your back the same way he did to the front of your body. You continued to eat, but your mind was spinning.
What would you have to do for the initiation? What would the people say? How would they act?
So many questions ran through your mind. Your life had been uprooted in a matter of hours, and nothing could give you the answers to your questions.
You were brought back to the moment when you felt Lo’ak move from behind you. He walks to the side where all the things were laid, and he grabs the jar of red paint.
He sits back down in front of you, rubbing paint across his fingers. He paints a triangle along your forehead, matching the one mirrored on his. He draws a straight line from the bottom of your nose past your lips. His rough calloused fingers drag your lip down and your gaze catches his.
He ignores you. His finger continues to slide down the length of your body, in between your breasts and past your belly button until his finger rested inches away from your aching core. You so badly wanted him to touch you, but that was insane for you to want.
“Alright,” he says, sighing softly as he reaches behind you. He grabs the top you had seen earlier and holds it up for you to see.
It was beautiful. The breast coverings were made into cups with dark red nightwraith scales. The ties were hand crafted intricately with perfectly placed beads, and wires. In the center of the cups, a red crystal hung from the same wires, swinging back and forth as he held it.
He scanned your face for your reaction to the special piece he presented to you. He didn’t know why he even cared if you liked it or not because you would be wearing it anyways.
You bring your hand up to the crystal, running your thumb over the smooth cool cut of it before looking past it at Lo’ak.
“I love it,” you whisper, before grabbing the top from his hands. You wrap the beads around your neck, securing it in place as you reach your hands behind your back to tie it there too. You struggle to secure it in place.
Lo’ak moves behind you, his large fingers grab hold of the beaded wires and tie it gently around your back just tight enough to where it wasn’t loose.
“Thank you,” you say.
He reaches back down to the ground, picking up a loincloth that matched the top. He holds his hand down to you, signaling for you to stand up so you could slip it on. You let your loincloth fall to the ground as you stand bare from the waist down in front of him.
Lo’ak doesn’t make a big deal out of it, and luckily his hard cock was coverable.
You tie the loincloth around your hips, letting it dangle in between your thighs. Looking down at your body you were shocked at how different you looked and felt.
Ash coated your body, none of your bright blue skin shown through. The long stripe of red ran all the way down, past your loincloth. Lo’ak had deliberately gone lower than he had to. Your clothing was intricate. Mangkwan clothing, clothing for a tsahik.
“One last thing,” Lo’ak says, barely above a whisper. He was already biting his tongue, refraining from saying the dirty things on his mind.
He walks behind a flap in the tent, before returning with a head piece. Red and black feathers were woven onto a wire that framed your head. Lo’ak placed it on you, stepping back before fixing it slightly.
The tension in the tent grew, the air felt thick, and your heart felt like it beat a million times per second.
“Are you ready,” he asks, he couldn’t stand here with you looking like this for much longer. He needed some fresh air immediately.
“Yes,” you say, an anxious feeling bubbled in your stomach as you wrap your arm around his, intertwining your fingers with his, your body matches the rhythm of his as the two of you walk out of the tent.
The music boomed through the village. The sounds of drums filled your ears and sent vibrations through your body. You clung onto Lo’ak, and he steadied you in return. As the two of you approach the large group of ash people, they all bow down.
They whisper softly, “tsahik.”
Tsahik of the Mangkwan. You will provide these people with stability. That was your role. That was who you must become. If you thought too hard about it, you weren’t much different than them now. You, too, were abandoned by the one person you thought would always fight for you.
Lo’ak pushes through the crowd of people, bringing you along with him. The people slowly stood. A fire burned bright and hot in the center, the ash people resumed the rhythm of their music. The drums beat deep in your soul, your body swayed ever so slightly.
He hands you a wooden box, gesturing for you to open it. A set of curved red crystal knives sat inside. The handles were woven carefully with rope.
No metal.
“From me,” Lo’ak mouths, the music too loud to hear him over.
You slide them through the back of your loincloth, letting them overlap. You look up at him, and pride sits on his face as you show your appreciation.
Many more offerings came. Carved skulls, intricate clothing, custom items, all an offering for you to accept them as your people.
You had no choice but to accept them. A part of you wanted to accept them even if you did not have a choice. These people had no one, no deity to run to, no spiritual guidance. You were now that for the people. The other part of you did not want to stray from your ways of Eywa.
What has Eywa done for you? You prayed to her as you ran through the forest and yet you still ended up here in this place where she does not see. Many would call that “your path.” The Great Mother does not see the ash people, which includes you.
Lo’ak mingled around the group, occasionally refilling your cup with drinks as you continued to pretend you fit in with these people. The drink calmed your nerves, eventually leaving you with a calming buzz.
The more you drank, the looser you felt. You were sick of opening gifts; you began to turn the people away. They did not understand why their tsahik would no longer accept what they had to give.
“No more, enjoy the music,” you repeated over and over again.
You walked over to the fire, letting your body move freely as the music beat through you. Lo’ak’s gaze watches you intently. The fire calls to you, the music beats for you and your eyes close, letting yourself become absorbed in your other senses. Your body was warm, sweat beading along your skin, revealing the bright blue skin underneath as the ash washes away.
Hands slide around your waist, a large body casts a shadow over you, but you can’t care to open your eyes.
“What are you doing sweet girl,” Lo’ak says, leaning down to whisper in your ear.
“Well right now, I am enjoying the way you touch me,” you say, before you can think twice about the words leaving your lips. Your eyes shoot open; you weren’t drunk to the point where you didn’t understand what you said. No, you said it, you meant it, and it was too late to take it back now.
Your gaze finds his. His eyes were dilated; he slowly licks his lips as his gaze rakes down to yours before finding your eyes again. Heat pooled in your lower belly. The familiar wetness leaks into your loincloth.
He snaps himself out of it, “you are supposed to be accepting the offerings the people give you.”
You thought about it. You should just go back to what you were supposed to be doing, but as you stare at Lo’ak you can’t help but want him. Something about him drew you in. He was exciting, thrilling, and he sent adrenaline running through your body every time he spoke.
You know you shouldn’t say it, but the words fall from your mouth before you can refrain.
“I don’t want to do that anymore. I want you to take me home and lay me down like you are supposed to Lo’ak,” you bite your bottom lip softly as you press your body against his. His hard cock presses into your stomach, he can’t hide it now.
“Fuck,” he groans quietly. You run your hand down his tough abdomen, brushing over the bones that were woven into his skin, palming his cock through his loincloth.
He grabs your wrists, pulling it away gently, “tell the people you accept them and we will leave.”
You grin up at him, satisfied that you got your way.
You turn around, “excuse me.”
Lo’ak laughs quietly, “louder sweet girl.”
“Excuse me!”
The ash people go silent. Instantly turning their attention to you.
“Yes tsahik,” multiple of them say.
“I accept you all, I love your gifts, and I want you all to have a fun time tonight,” you say giggling, you had way too much to drink.
It was weird having power in a clan. These people would not bat an eye at anything you said. Many of the people thank you for accepting them, they bow down when you speak.
Lo’ak groans, bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.
You turn back to Lo’ak, running your hand down his arm before intertwining your fingers with his and smiling up at him.
“Come on,” you say, pulling him towards you as you begin running back to the tent. Your tail flicks behind you, brushing against the sensitive skin of his lower stomach.
He grabs it and pulls gently, teasing you back as he runs close behind you. Lo’ak pushes the flap of the tent out of the way, allowing you to walk in before him.
He has his back to you as he latches the flap. You take the opportunity to strip yourself of your clothes quickly. Your loincloth falls to the ground on top of your head piece and top just as he turns around.
He laughs softly, “someone is eager.”
You grin up at him, holding your arms out. He walks over to you, wrapping his hands along the underside of your thighs before picking you up. Your legs wrap around his waist; your arms slide around his neck. Leaning down, you place a needy kiss to his lips.
He walks as you kiss him rough, bringing himself down onto his knees on the furs beneath him. Lo’ak lays you flat on your back, hovering over you without breaking the kiss.
He kissed along your jaw, moving down your neck and sucking harshly at the skin. He moves down to your shoulder, biting hard against the skin until it bled and he licked at the wound to create pleasure. His kisses move lower, in between your breasts before moving to your right breast.
He swirls his tongue against your nipple, sucking, biting, pulling until it hardens from his touch. He moves on to the other nipple, doing the same as he massages the other.
Your back arches from the furs, pushing your body into his as your moan from the pleasure of his mouth on you. His clothed cock pushes against your soaking core.
He begins to kiss lower down your stomach and his gaze finds yours. You watch him lick a stripe under your belly button, all the way down to your sensitive bundle of nerves. Lo’ak spreads your legs wider, holding them away from your core.
He laps at your clit a few times, watching your response to him.
Your hands shoot to his head, tangling in his hair as you grind yourself against his face.
“Oh, Lo’ak,” you moan out, laying your head back on the furs and closing your eyes as you let your body feel him in between your legs.
You can feel as Lo’ak drops one leg. He reaches up to your face, slapping you hard. Your eyes shoot open with a scowl pulling at your lips, but your entrance drips wetter.
“Watch me as I worship you, tsahik,” he whispers. His thumb rubs over the red handprint left on your cheek, soothing the skin before moving back down to your heat.
Tsahik. You had just as much power as him. He didn’t take you away from your home just so you could live as a prisoner, you have authority.
You watch as he situates himself in between your legs once more. The fire cast his back in shadows, almost as if he was glowing. His fingers burned against your skin where he touched, his breath was warm against your bare core.
Lo’ak’s tongue resumes licking at your clit. He drapes your legs over his shoulder, and you sit back on your elbows so you can watch. He slides one hand up to your entrance, gathering your slick and circling around.
Pushing one finger in, he slowly eases inside before curling his finger against your sweet spot.
“Fuck,” you whimper, your legs tightening around his head from the pleasure shooting through you. He groans against your clit in agreement and the vibrations run through your body.
He adds a second finger in your entrance, slowly stretching you open for him. The burn was welcoming and you buck your hips against his face, wanting more and not ashamed by that. Your hand finds his head again, tangling in his hair as you push him harder against your clit.
He lays his tongue flat, allowing you to use him to please yourself. Your hips grind into him hard and quick. His fingers match your pace, sliding in, brushing past your sweet spot and pulling back out before doing it all over again.
The heat of your climax pooled in your lower belly; your entrance began to clench around Lo’ak’s fingers. A signal you were close. You rub against his face faster; constant moans of his name leave your mouth.
Your hand tugs on his hair causing him to moan against your core from the pleasurable pain.
“Fuck Lo’ak, I’m so close,” you whine, moving your hips faster until your legs begin to tremble and your hips grow weak.
He lifts his mouth away from your clit, “cum on my face baby. Let me taste you.” Your gaze locks with his. He looked so hungry. A man starved for the woman in front of him. You were his equal. His to please. His to touch. His.
His tongue licks quick and hard against your bundle of nerves, he resumes the thrusts into you with his fingers. He watches you closely, waiting for your pleasure.
You arch your back; your nipples harden as a cold breeze blows through the tent. He groans against your clit, sending shivers down your spine.
Your legs lock around his head, pushing him further into you. Your hand pulls hard against his hair. Your entrance clenches tight around him. Cum gushes out along his fingers as he rides out your high. His eyes never leave yours.
Lo’ak pulls his fingers out slowly, gathering up your cum before bringing it up to his mouth. You watch as he licks your pleasure off his fingers. He sucks his fingers, before dragging them out of his mouth and licking his lips.
His face glistened from a mix of your cum and slick. Your mouth hung open ever so slightly at the sight of him enjoying your taste. Your gaze rakes down his body. His rock-solid cock was bulging out of his loincloth.
You sit up on your hands and knees; you slam your lips against his tasing yourself on him and you whimper into the kiss. His hand yanks on your kuru, letting your head fall back, and his other hand grips tight around your neck.
You bring your hands down to the ties of his loincloth, quickly undoing them. You break away from the kiss to watch as his cock bounces up against his stomach, leaving a wet spot from his precum.
His cock was twitching, the tip swollen and red with need. You lower the top half of your body to his cock, you ass still in the air as you place a gentle kiss against him. He whimpers from the contact.
You grab his cock at the base, licking a stripe up the underside before swirling your tongue along the slit of his tip. A shiver runs through his body. His hands find your hair, gathering your braids to move them out of your face.
You rub the tip against your lips before pushing him into your mouth. Your tongue explores him. Every vein, every ridge, everything is appreciated. Pushing him down your throat, you continue to even when you don’t think you can fit anymore and you gag around him.
He groans from your tight throat, pulling slightly on your hair in return. You slide him back out, before pushing him all the way back in.
Spit dripped down the length of his cock, you gag over and over again from the length and girth of him. Tears fall down your cheeks and your hand grips tighter around the base of him.
He groans when he’s down your throat, and whimpers when you swipe your tongue against his tip. His hand pushes you down further and your gaze finds his.
Tears stained your skin, spit sat around your mouth and fell down your chin, your mouth was open wide for him.
“Fuck baby,” Lo’ak groans, bringing a hand up to wipe a tear from your skin.
You continue to pull him in and out of your mouth. Gagging repeatedly, licking across the tip, and pushing him back in further each time. Each time his fingers pull your hair you moan around him sending vibrations through his body.
His cock twitches down your throat and he pushes you away from him. You sit up on your knees, confused on why he made you stop. His breathing was heavy and he took a second to calm himself.
“As much as I want to watch you swallow me, I want to cum in you even more,” he says, eyes dilating from his own words. You bite your bottom lip, excited for what he would do to you.
He gently pushes you back down to the furs. Your fingers gripped against the soft fibers as he hovered over you.
Lo’ak didn’t waste any time. The tip of his cock was nudging against your entrance and you could already feel the burn that would come from him.
You place your hands on his chest, finding his gaze.
“I’ve never done this before, Lo'ak.”
His gaze softens, but he hangs his head low. Lo’ak sighs softly, pushing himself up from the ground. He reaches down to grab his loincloth.
“Lo’ak…”
He says nothing. He slipped the loincloth over his body, adjusted his hard cock after he secured the ties, and turned to walk out of the tent. Your eyes follow him, but you don’t move, and you don’t say anything else.
On a tight leash (Bill Skarsgård! Eric Draven x Female Reader) (18+) (AU)
Read chapter 11 here / Series Masterlist
Chapter 12
Summary : Eric comes back and then he comes inside, in more ways than one.
Warning: 18+, Smut, unprotected sex, sexual domination, oral sex, oral during mensuration, slight bdsm, sex during mensuration, body image issues, mention of cramps and mensuration, bodyshaming, mention of self loathing and insecurities, weird obsessive behaviour, classism
“So last night I asked Petey to like tie me up”
You stopped whatever you were fidgeting with in the kitchen and immediately grabbed the phone from the counter. Mira was on a video call with you. Enjoying the last few days of her honeymoon.
“Wait what?” You asked curiously and she immediately started to blush.
“Oh my god ..I can't tell you how exciting it was, and he was like baby I don't want to hurt you so I told him that it was okay and once he began..woah.. he was like a totally different man” you couldn't help but smile widely as she revealed that. She had been calling you regularly since you had seen each other last.
Which was exactly ten days ago.
Ten days since you had been back to your place from the shadowhall palace. Ten days since you saw Eric last. Ten days of missing him despite knowing that he didn't give a shit about you.
You were a vacation fling to him and he was supposed to be for you but you fell deeper and got yourself in trouble.
“God Mira I am happy for you..did you enjoy it?” You asked her as you leaned on the countertop after placing the phone down.
There were dishes in the sink waiting to get cleaned.
“Enjoy it? I was in heaven and I can't wait to explore more things..all thanks to you” she giggled. She really was glowing with happiness and love. And a taste of BDSM.
“What did I do?” You asked her.
“Well if you hadn't told me all about the freaky sex you had been having with Eric, I wouldn't have gotten the idea” The mention of his name made you quiet for a moment but then you smiled
“Well in that case, you're welcome” she smiled even though she could see you were feeling a certain way about him.
“Sorry babe, I wasn't really thinking..how are you feeling?” She asked you so you sighed deeply.
“I'm good..I'm okay actually ..it's just..I am mourning the crazy good dicking down” you told her the half truth. You were missing his cock but that wasn't all you missed about him.
“Mhhm” she hummed , she was quiet for a moment before she remembered something “Peter was on a call with Patricia yesterday and she told him that Eric was interested in some girl”
The words hit you harder than they should have. Just the mention of Eric and some girl in the same sentence bothered you.
“Interested?” you repeated, trying to act carefully neutral, though your chest tightened.
Mira nodded, her smile faltering all the way to the down.
“Yeah she didn’t give details. Just… said that he mentioned someone he had met very, very recently..He is working some event in NYC so he's living with Patricia at the moment”
You turned away from the phone, staring at the window above the sink. The late afternoon light reflected across the counter, catching dust in the air.
“Oh” you said, forcing the sound to come out casually “Good for him”
“Don’t do that voice” she warned you immediately.
“What voice?”
“The ‘I don’t care but I very much care’ voice” she said gently.
“I don't care.. I mean not like that” You reached for a glass, more for something to do with your hands than because you were thirsty. The tap ran a second too long before you turned it off.
She studied you through the screen, the way only someone who had known you forever could.
“You don’t have to say the right things to me”
You huffed out a quiet laugh.
“Alright, alright. I know. I just..what was I expecting, Mira? That he would sit around pining?” You shrugged “Or miss me?” You scoffed, frustration slipping in your tone “We were just a moment. A very intense and very confusing moment”
“And you're allowed to feel disappointed and hurt that it ended” she said, voice soft and comforting. You pressed your lips together, nodding once.
“I think what bothers me isn’t that he’s interested in someone else” you admitted “It’s that he never ever thought about me after I left..like even for a second”
“You don’t know that he didn’t.”
“Well..You didn’t see the way he said goodbye to me” you replied “Like closing a door he no longer wanted to keep open. It was clean and final” you placed your head down on the cabinet to take a deep breath. “I can't even blame him for this, he told me in clear words to not read into his silence”
She tilted her head as you said that, giving you the space to vent.
“Anyway I'm going on a date tomorrow so-”
“Wait what? With whom?” Her voice came out squeaky and it made you smile.
“Just this new guy at work. Daniel..he joined the company when I was on leave, and he asked me out yesterday so I said.. yes”
Mira blinked at the screen, then leaned closer like she hadn’t heard you right.
“Tomorrow?” she repeated “As in… an actual date?” she asked to confirm.
“Yes. An actual date”
“With a real man?” she added.
“With a very real man” you said, amused by her inquiry. “He’s cute, he's employed and he's interested in me”
“And you just casually drop this at the end like it’s nothing?” You shrugged, picking up the glass of water and finally taking a sip.
“It kind of is nothing. Dinner. Conversation. No expectations”
“Is this because of Eric?”
You didn’t answer immediately. It wasn't exactly because of him but you did need a distraction from him so it was because of him.
“No it's not” you lied blatantly.
“It is. You’re going on this date hoping Daniel will make you forget Eric?”
“That would be unfair. To Daniel. And to me” you exhaled.
“So what do you want from it?” she asked gently.
“I want to prove to myself that my world didn’t end at Shadowhall. That I can sit across from someone new and not measure them against the ghost of a fling”
“That’s… surprisingly healthy.. I hope he rocks your world” she swooned.
“Don’t get used to it and don’t hype it up” you said lightly. “He could chew with his mouth open for all we know” she let out a chuckle as if already imagining it.
“Text me everything. Outfit, vibes, first impression.”
“I will not be live blogging my date.”
“You absolutely will.. I think Peter is back..update me with details. Love you”
After the call ended, you took a deep breath. You rinsed the glass, set it in the drying rack, and finally turned to the dishes.
Even though you had pretended to be all fine and jolly in front of Mira, knowing that Eric was already moving on to someone else did hurt you. And not to forget, the fact that he was in NYC and -
No, you had to stop torturing yourself this way. He wasn't the love interest in the story of your life, he was just a stranger you were supposed to have a few smutty scenes with before you met the actual love of your life. You weren't about to mope all your life or get your heart broken by a side character.
******
The next evening arrived faster than you expected. After work you got dressed up in a black slip dress, it was short and sexy. You didn't want to be overdressed but you wanted to put in some effort.
The place Daniel had chosen was a fancy pub in Fort Hamilton. He was already seated when you arrived, standing up immediately when he saw you.
“You look great” he said warmly, pulling your chair out for you like a gentleman.
“Thank you..you do too” you replied, smiling and meaning it. He did look good. Clean shaved, confident but not in an intimidating way like Eric.
Stop thinking about him.
As the waiter poured water and handed you menus, you tried to focus. Daniel talked about work, about how strange it had been joining the company mid-year. You nodded, laughed in the right places, asked questions. You were present.
But then he smiled, it was pleasant, open and your mind betrayed you again.
Eric never smiled, even when he did, it was always mysterious in a way, as if he knew something nobody else did.
You pushed the thought away and took a sip of wine.
“So… Rachel told me you just got back from a ten days long trip?”
Rachel was a coworker and a friend of yours. She sat in the cubicle right next to you.
“Yeah..it was my best friend's wedding”
“Ten days?
“Yeah…they're well off.. everything was paid.. I didn't have to spend a penny”
You were in the middle of the conversation with him when something shifted in the room, it was a feeling, a sudden pull and then a familiar whiff of cedar and -
Your eyes popped out of your socket.
Eric walked past you like he belonged there. Dark black leather jacket, white tshirt underneath, that familiar, infuriating confidence in the way he moved. He didn’t scan the room like someone searching. He already knew.
Your breath hitched as he took a seat at the bar right in front of you. Then he ordered a drink. Daniel was saying something, talking about the manager or something, you didn't hear properly when there was a smoke coming out from both sides.
Your heart was racing at the sight in front of you. Brain had stopped working for a moment, and mouth had gone dry. And then Eric turned his head. His eyes found yours instantly, he didn't even look around as if he knew that's exactly where he'd find you.
And he didn't seem surprised, not as surprised as you were to see him.
What was he doing? Why?
He lifted his glass slightly, just enough, and winked at you before taking a sip.
Your fingers tightened around the stem of your wineglass as heat rushed up your neck. You looked away immediately, fixing your attention on the silverwares at the table like it required your full attention.
“——so yeah, it’s been hectic with the move and all” he finished, smiling. “Sorry, I’m rambling”
“No, no.. it’s okay..youre not rambling” you said, a second too late. Your voice sounded normal at least.
You forced yourself not to look back at the bar but how could you ignore him? The man you had been thinking about for days was in front of you.
Why was he here? What was he doing? How did he know you were here?
This wasn't just a coincidence, coincidences like that didn't just happen in a city like New York..
You could feel his eyes on you, he was watching you from head to toe, eyeing you up as if to assess how you were feeling.
“Do you want to order some food? I heard their quiche is supposed to be great here”
“Yeah” you said quickly “Sure”
The waiter returned, and you focused hard on the menu, grateful for the interruption. And then just like that, the moment he had finished his drink, he tipped the bartender and walked right past you to leave the bar.
You couldn't really concentrate on the date after that, not on Daniel and definitely not on the quiche you had ordered. You told him honestly that you weren't feeling too great and apologized if you had ruined his day, he offered to drop you but you denied. You really needed to be alone right now.
Did he come to see you? Was he there for you? Or was he there because he was bored? Why did he leave if he was there for you?
The ride home felt longer than it should have. The city blurred past the cab window, your thoughts louder than the traffic. You replayed the evening on a merciless loop..Eric’s timing, the look in his eyes, the way he left without a word. No explanation. No closure. Just disruption.
By the time the cab pulled up outside your building, your head was pounding. You paid the driver before grabbing the purse and stepped out.
But as you looked up your steps froze on the way. He was leaning against the iron railing by the entrance like he had been there forever. One hand in his jacket pockets, cigarette in another. One foot crossed over the other. Completely at ease. Completely Eric.
You had never seen him smoke before so that was a surprise.
For a split second you considered turning around, pretending you hadn’t seen him but you knew you'd have to cross him to get inside.
You stopped a few feet away from him and crossed your arms tightly over your chest. The purse hanging from your shoulder.
He was smirking, the audacity he had to be smirking right now. His eyes took in your clipped hair, the slight cleavage that always rushed the blood to his cock, the rosy plump lips that he wanted everywhere on him.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, not bothering to hide the edge in your voice “And how did you even find me?”
He looked up slowly from your chest, eyes raking over you in a way that made your skin tingle, he looked hungry.
“You left the date early? That bad huh” he said mildly, like that answered everything.
“That’s not an answer to my question” you huffed and that only amused him further.
“No that's a question” he mumbled nonchalantly as he threw the cigarette butt on the floor, crushing it under his boot.
“You don’t have my phone number. You never asked for it. You didn’t know where I lived. So explain..how did you find me?” He straightened, pushing off the railing, standing a little too close now.
“Traditional way. I looked you up first and it wasn't that difficult to find where you worked, then I simply followed you around..for two days” your eyes widened as he said it all so calmly.
“You did what?”
“I followed you for two days”
“You stalked me” you said flatly, not really taking his words seriously, but at the same time you knew he was absolutely serious. This is why people thought he was creepy, because he pulled shit like this out of nowhere. And despite his inappropriate behaviour you still wanted him so bad you were ready to get him out of those clothes as soon as possible.
“If that word helps you” he shrugged so you stared at him incredulously.
“What are you doing Eric? You asked me to not find meaning in your silence and now you're here.. stalking me”
You emphasised the word and it only amused him. He studied your face for a long moment, something unreadable passing through his eyes.
“Take me to your bed and I'll tell you whatever you want to hear”
He whispered as he leaned into you, your breath hitched as his fingers gripped around your hips, pulling you closer to him until he had his mouth latched onto your neck.
“You look good, too good for someone else” you bite on your lips as if to stifle a moan.
“Is that what you want? Sex?” You somehow managed to question him again.
“I can find sex anywhere. Everywhere. But I'm here because I want it from you”
“You didn't even want to stay in touch with me-” your voice cracked as you spoke, his eyes softened a fraction.
“I didn't want to give you hope.. I need you to keep your expectations low when it comes to me” you scoffed as he said that. He wanted you to keep your expectations low and yet he treated you like you actually mattered.
“Fine...So we are just going to gloss over the fact that you stalked me?”
“Does it bother you? You didn't mind before..at the palace when I kept my eyes on you all the time”
“It's not the same” you argued, voice already melting beneath his stare, you really were just a slut for him “Did I do something embarrassing when you were watching me?” You asked, making his mouth curve into a small smile
“You tripped yesterday on these stairs” he tilted his head, your face went warm with embarrassment.
“And you didn't even come help me get up”
“You're not a little girl, you're a very big girl” his hands dragged up, brushing against your bare shoulders before he cupped your cheeks, thumb caressing the lips “You can take care of yourself”
“I don't want to encourage this behaviour”
“You can't stop me, if I want to keep an eye on you I will” he mumbled against your mouth, lips almost touching and you could feel your brain rewiring at the idea of him being just around you without your knowledge..
He was making you indulge in problematic kinks.
“Where are you living?” you asked to steer the conversation.
“With Mama…in Queens”
“It's not that far” you clapped back.
“Far enough for the drive back” he argued.
“I'm not taking you upstairs, it's messy and my apartment is the size of your bathroom at the palace”
“Is that the only reason? Because you're embarrassed about where you live?” he asked, tone almost mocking in a way that made you drip in your panties.
“Yess” you mumbled softly so he gave you a smile.
“Let me take you to a hotel then” he offered generously. Sure he had the money to spend on it.
“Okay..but I'm not finished talking”
“You can talk all you want with my cock inside you”
“Eric-”
“I'm here because I want you. I didn't need your phone number to find my way back to you because I knew I will find you”
Your breath hitched again as he said that. He was being honest and yet he was as confusing as he had always been.
The ride to whatever hotel he was taking you to was quiet, you watched him drive as if he had not turned your world upside down again..
Eric’s hands were steady on the steering wheel. Calm. Too calm for someone who had just admitted to following you for two days and then uprooting your night like it meant nothing. The dashboard light cut sharp lines across his face. You kept stealing glances at him, trying to read what he wasn’t saying but also turned on by his mysterious demeanor.
For all you knew he could be taking you to your death and you'd follow him because your pussy won't stop dripping around him.
“You’re very quiet” he said eventually, eyes still on the road.
“You don’t really leave room for talking” you replied, hugging your purse closer to yourself “You just… decide things”
A corner of his mouth twitched at the statement
“Someone has to.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It never is with you” he said softly, finally glancing at you. The look lingered a second too long before he turned back to the road “You think too much.”
“And you don’t think enough.”
He let out a chuckle as if he had no argument left.
The hotel appeared a few minutes later. It wasn't really a five star but it wasn't seedy either, it looked discreet. He parked, cut the engine, and then stepped out first just so he could open the door for you.
As you stepped out, the trunk of his car opened up and he took out a small bag, he came all prepared didn't he. Was he going to stay the night at your place if you'd let him?
Inside the lounge, the air smelled faintly of polished wood and something floral, the typical hotel smell. The clerk barely looked up. Eric handled everything with the same detached efficiency he did everything else. And that's when the nerve kicked in when you realised you had never done this before, never met a man discreetly in a hotel room for a night of hot sex. This felt more scandalous than your visits to the East wing.
The elevator ride was worse, he was quiet but he had his eyes on you. He didn't want to hurt you, that wasn't part of the plan but he didn't know how to treat you right either, he wasn't wired that way.
The room was lit in dim yellow lights, curtains drawn. As soon as the door shut behind you, the tension snapped tight, no more distance, no more excuses. Eric didn’t touch you right away as he put the bag on the floor. He watched you set your purse down and then watched you turn and stare at him.
One moment he was near the door and another he already had you in his arms, his palms wrapped under your thighs as he lifted you up, mouth latched onto yours in a heated kiss. Ten days, and it was as if you had forgotten the taste of his lips. It was as if he was touching you for the first time.
Your dress rode up slightly as he laid you down on the bed. He took his jacket off and discarded them on the floor before his shirt followed. God you had missed this body on top of you. His eyes were gleaming with lust and something you couldn't really decipher, you didn't want to, not anymore, you didn't want to read between the lines and set yourself up for disappointment…
But he was there, he came to see you. Why? It wasn't just the sex, you knew that for sure. No man would make an effort especially when he already had you a bunch of times. But then why?
“You must think I'm desperate and easy” the words left your mouth before you could put a stop to it. He smiled as he leaned over you, palms flat on the mattress, right next to your body.
“You are” he mumbled, his nose almost brushing yours “But just for me”
“That doesn't make me feel better”
“I don't want to lie to you”
“Even if it makes me happy?”
“Even if it makes you happy..I won't lie to you”
You squeezed your eyes shut as he said that. Even when he said wrong things it only felt right to you.
“Remind me why I was so mad at you again?” you huffed. You couldn't believe how easily you were enchanted by him again.
“Because I didn't ask for your phone number”
“Because you didn't miss me at all for ten days”
“Mmm that reminds me-” he suddenly got off the bed and grabbed his duffel bag from the floor before placing it on the dresser, you propped up on your elbows to see what he was up to.
He then pulled out a camera from the bag and stopped a few feet from the bed, the camera resting easy in his hand like it belonged there.
Like this wasn’t strange at all.
You frowned slightly, heart giving a small, stupid leap
“Ummm what are you doing?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he checked the lens, adjusted something with practiced fingers.
“Do you trust me?” he asked finally, eyes lifting to yours.
The question landed heavier than anything he had said all night.
You hesitated, just for a breath. Because trusting Eric was never simple. You trusted him in some ways and then some ways you didn't. You had known him for just days and yet things were more complicated with him then you ever had with your ex in a year long relationship.
But you were already here. In a hotel room, he was the same guy you had let take you deep in the woods and fuck you raw. So yes you did trust him. It might ruin your life someday but for now you couldn't bring yourself to care.
“Yes” you said quietly.
Something softened in his expression at your response.
He set the camera down on the bedside table for a moment and climbed onto the bed on his knees, the mattress dipping under his weight. He hasn't touched you yet. Just looked at you like he was memorizing angles, the way your body curved when you propped yourself up.
“I want to keep a memory for days I can't see you” he said honestly as he grabbed the camera again.
“A memory? You know phones do that too right?”
“They die too, I need something physical” his words made your heart race.
He brought the lens to his eye, settling up on his knees.
“Stay just like that” he murmured, you heard the flash go off and it startled you a little. You suddenly felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with skin.
“Look at me” he added softly “Not the camera” You met his gaze. His finger hovered over the shutter, but he didn’t press it yet.
“You are beautiful”
Another click.
“Now sit up, pull your hair to the side, look down and then look up” he raised up so he had the perfect angle from the top. He was building a fantasy, a jerk off material to put it crudely.
Most men just watched the porn, but not him. He wanted the half naked pictures of his situationship.
“That's exactly how you look when you're sucking my cock”
He shifted closer on his knees, capturing another angle, slower now. His eyes kept flicking between you and the lens, like he was making sure the camera captured you exactly how you looked.
“You're so weird” you mumbled, not insulting, just playful.
“Lower down one of the straps and lie back on your elbows” you followed his instruction. He actually looked professional at the moment and you felt like some model he was capturing.
“Like that?” You bit on your lips as you lowered down the strap of your slip dress.
“Good girl..stay like that” he murmured.
Another snap. Another flash.
“Both of them now” he instructed so you followed the command. You were so turned on now that it was making you squirm. Last night you had trouble sleeping thinking about his absence, now you were being photographed by him in some random hotel room.
He put the camera down for a moment and rode the hem of your dress up so your thighs were on your full display along with the cleavage, then he folded your legs up slightly, heels digging in the mattress.
He clicked another picture and put the camera down before he leaned down to kiss you, it was brief and soft.
“Take the dress off now” he mumbled firmly as he grabbed the camera again. You hesitated for a moment, nerves settling in.
“What if they..get leaked?” you asked hesitantly, not wanting to blame him but there was that fear in your mind.
“Do you really think I'd let it happen? This stays with me, I'm good at hiding secrets. Trust me” you took a deep breath and nodded before you sat up to pull the dress over your head. What other secrets he was keeping?
His breath hitched for a moment, the strapless bra was too tight, almost suffocating your tits, and you were just glad he couldn't really see how wet your black panties had become.
“Look at that-” he whispered as you laid back on your elbows again and heard another flash.
Your breathing was getting heavier, and he was so hard too, your knees brushed against his bulge when he moved too close to you.
“Take it off sweetheart..breathe” he murmured softly, waiting for you to take the bra off, you sat up again, arms reaching for the clasp. The moment your tits were freed he let out a groan and pushed you down on the bed, the camera fell right next to your head, his mouth latched on your nipples one by one, sucking as if he had been starving. His tongue circled around the areolas leaving a wet mark.
Suddenly he raised up and grabbed the camera from the side of your head to capture you just like that. You let out a moan as the flash hit your skin, you couldn't help but wonder what you looked like.
“Nobody is going to see this, I promise. I'll develop them myself, they are for my eyes only”
You trusted him, with this you did. And then you went a step ahead even though he didn't ask for it.
“Take one more” you murmured as your fingers slipped into the waistband of your panties, his eyes flickered, jaw became tense as you slowly opened up your legs.
Something deep down in his chest shifted, he felt overwhelmed and that didn't happen to him. Not often. You were trusting him with this and somehow that realisation had made him feel content for once.
“Fuck--” he cursed under his breath, his palm roamed over the inside of your thighs, thumb barely grazed over your lips. He put the camera down before he took your heels off one by one. Wanting you completely exposed underneath him. He adjusted your position before picking up the camera again, then he fixed the lens, taking a close up of your naked exposed body, your wet cunt glistening in the yellow light of the room.
The moment the image was captured he put the camera down on the nightstand and pounced on you. Lips to lips, chest to chest, his cock rubbing against your clit before he slipped inside, a gasp escaped your mouth as he began to thrust slowly.
It was needy, hasty and it was all you had been craving these past ten days.
It was something you didn't think you'd ever have again. He rose up on his palms as his pace fastened, you placed your hands around his cheeks, legs wrapped around his waist as you followed his rhythm, pushing back onto him as he pulled.
He moved with a rough urgency that stole the air from your lungs, and then somewhere between a breath and a blink, the world narrowed down to the heat of his body, the weight of him, the sound of your names swallowed between mouths. You stopped thinking in words. You let yourself be there, fully, finally, without measuring or guarding or overthinking.
Time stilled for a moment as he came inside you, his breathing uneven, his eyes no longer sharp with want but dark still. He didn’t pull away immediately. He never did. Instead, he stayed like that, as if memorizing the way your chest moved, the way your fingers curled into his shoulder.
Once the euphoria diminished you laughed softly, the sound half-exhausted, half-disbelieving.
This was unexpected, this night was as unexpected as the first night you had with him.
“This” you murmured, not quite asking a question “Doesn’t feel like something casual..doesn't feel like just sex”
His thumb brushed along your jaw, a grounding touch.
“I don’t do casual” he said with no hesitance “It was never casual”
“What are we then?” You asked him the question you had been meaning to ask since you met him.
“I want you..Is that enough for you? Because I'm not perfect, I can't give you whatever you're expecting from me but I can give you this.. and I'll come back for you as long as you'll have me”
You breathed in his words, trying to absorb the meaning behind them. He wasn't going to be a typical boyfriend you have had before but he has treated you better than them already. You wanted to see the depth of it, you want to see how far he could take you, how well he could treat you...
“What about other women? I heard something -”
He pulled out of your as you said that and grabbed the tissue box from the nightstand to clean you up.
Rumours, he had been a victim of rumours all his life and he has stopped caring about them too but he didn't want you to think he was fucking with your emotions, he didn't enjoy playing with them especially when he didn't appreciate other people playing with him.
“I haven't been with anyone else since then”
He murmured and even though your mind screamed at you to not trust his words. You did trust him. As he laid down next to you, you shifted, tucking yourself closer to him, your cheek against his collarbone.
“Do you want me to move?” You asked him as you caressed his chest. He didn't seem the cuddling type so you didn't want to make him uncomfortable.
When he didn't answer you, you stepped away a little, putting your head down on the pillow so he turned his head to look at you.
“It's okay..you don't have to explain..not tonight” you said to him as you sat up to pull the blanket over your bodies.
“Are you always this.. accomodating?” he asked, you couldn't help but smile. It sounded like a compliment to you.
“No.. but then I have never dealt with someone as complicated as you” he let out a half amused chuckle.
“I have never dealt with someone as accepting as you either..usually they fight, or take offense when I'm like this” your heart fluttered as he admitted that.
“There's nothing wrong with you Eric, you're just different”
He hummed in response as if he didn't really believe the words.
You didn't remember falling asleep but you woke up in the middle of the night and there he was, staring at you the same way he had the last time. You kept your eyes on him, he wasn't even blinking so you placed your hand on his cheek and it was as if he had come out of a trance.
“What time is it?” You asked him softly as it still seemed dark outside.
“I don't know” he answered flatly so you grabbed the hand he was using to keep himself upright and made him put his head down on the pillow.
“Sleep” you mumbled softly, fingers caressing over his scalp gently and he hesitated for a moment before he closed his eyes and then he was out like a light.
He surely was an interesting being, especially how casually he had admitted to stalking you today, those rumours had some truth behind them but there were moments when you felt that there was so much more to him than what met the eye.
You knew there was a reason why he watched the person sleeping next to him, and it wasn't to make them feel scared or unnerved.
*****
Next morning you woke up to the ringing of the alarm, you had to be at work so you had to go home to get ready. Eric was in the bathroom already so you waited for him to come out while you got dressed up.
God you had so much to talk about with Mira.
“Good morning” you whispered as he stepped out, he didn't sleep much, he often woke up early too, it was something you were starting to notice. He barely hummed in response as he wiped his neck with the towel.
“I should get going.. I need to be at work sharp at 9” you said to him as you grabbed your purse and he looked at you incredulously.
“Give me five minutes ..I'll drop you”
“I can call a cab-” you argued but he cut you in.
“Sit down”
Yes Sir. What else do you need? A blowjob maybe?
After he got ready he picked up the camera from the nightstand and put it inside the bag. Your face flushed as you remembered what he had used it for last night. He had taken those pictures with a purpose, just the idea of him keeping them somewhere safe and only taking them out once he was in the mood to have a release did something to you.
You were definitely going to think about it at night.
The drive back home was quiet, he seemed stressed but you didn't want to question him. As the building finally arrived you looked at him.
“Ummm when will I see you again?” You asked him so he stared at you.
“I'll be busy with this important event in the bayside. Can you stay two days apart from me without losing your mind to overthinking?” He asked, running his fingers through his luscious hair.
You almost let out a scoff.
“I'll survive” you chuckled so he grabbed your purse and took out your phone.
“Open it” he passed you the phone so you entered the passcode before giving it back to him. You then watched as he typed a number and saved it in the contact. If it wasn't his you'd actually kill him.
Once he returned the phone you put it back in your purse.
“Okay then..see you” you mumbled awkwardly as you opened the door but he grabbed your arm before you could step out.
“Next time.. I'm not staying at some random hotel” You sighed as he said that. Well it wasn't as if he didn't know you weren't exactly rich.
“Fine” you huffed like a child, his mouth curled slightly.
“Come here” he gestured with his other hand for you to come as one do with a pet and as you reached closer he cupped your cheeks to kiss you, deep enough that you'd taste him for the next two days, long enough so you won't forget that he wasn't going anywhere for now.
“Be good, I'll see you soon..try not to go out on dates with random dudes” he murmured against your mouth.
“Try not to fuck a random, unsuspecting, inexperienced guest at the event” you answered him. You could tell he didn't appreciate the jab but he also knew you were joking.
He stayed there as you stepped out of the car, you turned around to look at him once, he watched you until you had disappeared inside the building. It was only once you came back to the quiet of your apartment, when you realised that you had just signed up for something you couldn't back out from.
And you didn't want to back out either. He wasn't the side character in your story, he never was, he was about to become the worst heartbreak of your life and there was nothing you were going to do to stop it from happening.
The Time Team 7 Found Out Sasuke Had a Girlfriend and Lost Their Minds
It started like any other day—well, as normal as things could get when traveling with Naruto. The sun was barely rising over Konoha when Team 7 gathered at the gates, preparing for an escort mission. Naruto was grumbling about waking up early, Sakura was sipping tea to keep herself awake, and Kakashi—Kakashi was just being Kakashi, flipping through his book like he had all the time in the world.
Then there was Sasuke.
He stood a few feet away from them, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He looked... different. Naruto squinted at him.
“What?” Sasuke finally asked, annoyed by the intense stare.
Naruto leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “You look—”
“Tired?” Sakura guessed.
Naruto shook his head. “No. You look... kinda smug.”
Sasuke blinked. “Smug?”
“Yeah! Like you just got away with something.”
Sakura hummed in agreement. “Now that Naruto mentions it, you do have this... strange air about you.”
“Tch.” Sasuke turned his head, but the faintest twitch of his lips didn’t go unnoticed.
Now, Naruto wasn’t the smartest when it came to picking up social cues, but even he could tell something was up. He glanced at Sakura, who raised an eyebrow. Then back at Sasuke. Then at Kakashi.
Kakashi just flipped a page. “Oh, he’s definitely hiding something.”
Sasuke scowled. “I’m not.”
Kakashi hummed in amusement. “If you say so.”
Naruto crossed his arms. “Oi, you’re acting weird. I bet you got a secret. Spill it, bastard.”
“I don’t have a secret,” Sasuke said flatly.
Naruto gasped, eyes widening. “OH MY GOD—”
Sasuke tensed. “What?”
Naruto pointed an accusing finger at him. “You have a girlfriend.”
Sakura nearly dropped her tea. “What?”
Kakashi actually lowered his book.
Sasuke clicked his tongue, looking away. “...So?”
That was all the confirmation Naruto needed. He screamed.
“WHAT THE HELL—”
Sakura grabbed him by the collar, shaking him. “Sasuke. Has. A. Girlfriend?!”
Naruto clawed at her grip. “I—I KNEW IT! I KNEW SOMETHING WAS UP!”
Kakashi, ever the composed one, merely chuckled. “Oh, this is interesting.”
Sasuke sighed, rubbing his temple. He knew they’d react like this.
Sakura turned to him. “Wait—who is she?! Is she someone we know? A kunoichi? Someone from another village?—”
Sasuke shifted uncomfortably. “…She’s a civilian.”
Silence.
Pure. Deafening. Silence.
Sakura’s jaw dropped.
Naruto choked. “A civilian?!”
Sasuke glared at him. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Naruto flailed his arms. “NO—I MEAN—YES?!—I MEAN—HOW?!”
Sakura blinked rapidly. “I just—I didn’t expect you to—”
“What, date someone who isn’t a shinobi?” Sasuke raised a brow. “That’s not a crime.”
“No, it’s just…” She shook her head, still stunned.
Kakashi tilted his head. “Well, well. A civilian, huh? Didn’t take you for the type, Sasuke.”
“She’s not a type,” Sasuke muttered, crossing his arms.
Naruto still looked like he was processing this new reality. “Okay, hold on. So you’re telling me, all this time we thought you were just brooding and traveling alone, you were actually sneaking off to see some civilian girl?!”
Sasuke exhaled sharply. “It’s not like that.”
Sakura’s gaze softened slightly. “So… how did you meet her?”
Sasuke hesitated. He wasn’t exactly the sharing type, but if he didn’t give them something, they’d never let it go.
“…I met her before I left the village,” he admitted. “She… worked at a shop.”
Naruto’s mouth fell open. “A shop?”
Sasuke shot him a look. “Yes, dobe. A shop.”
Kakashi hummed. “So you just walked in one day and decided, ‘Ah yes, I’ll fall in love here’?”
Sasuke scoffed. “It wasn’t like that.”
Sakura smiled a little. “Then what was it like?”
Sasuke looked away, remembering the first time he met you. How your voice had been warm, how your smile had been so genuine. You didn’t treat him like a war criminal. You didn’t treat him like a hero, either. You just… treated him like a person. And somewhere along the way, he had fallen for you.
“I don’t have to explain myself,” he muttered.
“Oh my god, you’re in love.” Naruto gaped. “Like, actually in love.”
Sasuke’s eye twitched. “Obviously.”
“With a civilian.”
“Do you have a point?”
Naruto threw his hands up. “Man, I just—you?! Dating a civilian?! It’s just so weird!”
Sasuke’s glare darkened. “What’s weird about it?”
Sakura smacked Naruto upside the head. “What he means is that it’s unexpected, but it’s… kind of sweet.”
Kakashi smiled under his mask. “Indeed. Though, I have to ask… why keep it a secret?”
Sasuke’s expression cooled slightly. “Because she’s not part of this world.”
Sakura’s eyes softened.
“She’s not a shinobi,” Sasuke continued. “She doesn’t need people knowing about us. I want her to be safe.”
For once, Naruto didn’t have a loud retort.
Sakura nodded in understanding. “That’s… actually really sweet, Sasuke.”
Naruto grumbled. “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell us.”
Sasuke exhaled. “Would it have changed anything?”
Naruto crossed his arms, pouting. “I dunno… maybe I’d have a niece or nephew by now.”
Sasuke glared.
Sakura choked on her tea. “Naruto—!”
Kakashi just chuckled. “Well, I must say, I didn’t expect this revelation today. But it’s nice to see you happy, Sasuke.”
Kakashi just hummed in amusement. “Well, this mission just got a lot more interesting.”
Sasuke sighed. This was going to be a long day.
But later, when he saw you waiting for him at home, your warm smile greeting him at the door, he knew—despite their teasing, despite the drama—he wouldn’t change a thing.
The atmosphere in the safe house was already tense before the arrival of the Variants. Mark had been doing his best to keep things together—keep you safe. You were too far along to be moving so much, too delicate in this stage of pregnancy, and the last thing you needed was stress. But fate was never kind to either of you.
It started with a distortion in the air, a strange pull that made Mark’s entire body go rigid beside you. Then, suddenly, they were there.
Versions of him. Too many versions of him.
Some looked the same, some had different scars, different uniforms, different eyes—but they were all Mark. And they were all looking at you.
"No way," one of them murmured, his expression unreadable as he took a slow step forward. His gaze was locked onto your stomach. "This—this actually happened?"
Another Mark let out a choked breath, his fists clenching. "You're pregnant." His voice wavered, filled with something that made your skin crawl. Longing? Grief? Possessiveness?
Mark—your Mark—immediately stepped in front of you, his body tense, ready for a fight even though he knew he couldn’t take them all. "Stay back," he warned, his voice low, dangerous. "You don’t belong here."
"Neither do you," a Variant shot back, eyes narrowing. "But look at her. Look at her. She’s happy. She’s safe. She’s alive."
You swallowed hard, your hand instinctively resting on your belly. The weight of their stares made your skin prickle, and a deep, unsettled feeling crawled up your spine.
"I lost her before we even got a chance to start a family," one muttered, more to himself than anyone else. His voice was thick with something bordering on grief. "We talked about it. We planned for it. But she never made it that far."
"Mine died carrying our child," another admitted, his face void of emotion, but his hands trembling. "I never got to know them. Never even heard them cry."
The room felt suffocating, their emotions—grief, anger, obsession—crashing into you all at once. You gritted your teeth, willing your heart to stop hammering so hard. Stress wasn’t good for the baby. Stress wasn’t good for the baby.
But then, not all of them were mourning. Some... some were smiling.
"This is perfect," a Mark said, stepping forward with slow, deliberate movements. His gaze was fixed on your stomach in a way that made bile rise in your throat. "I get my girl back and she’s carrying my child?"
"Not your child," your Mark snapped, his voice razor-sharp. "Not your girl."
"But she could be," the Variant countered smoothly, tilting his head. "I mean, she’s already where she’s meant to be, right? She’s already carrying our blood."
Your fingers curled into the fabric of Mark’s shirt, your breathing uneven. You weren’t stupid. You knew you couldn’t run. You could barely walk without feeling exhausted. If they decided to take you, there was nothing you could do to stop them.
One Mark sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "C'mon, let’s not stress her out. That’s not good for the baby."
As if that was your biggest problem right now.
Mark’s hand found yours, his grip grounding, protective. "You’re not taking her anywhere."
"No?" One of the Variants lifted an eyebrow, amused. "You sure about that? Because it kinda looks like she belongs to allof us now."
Your pulse pounded in your ears, panic gripping your chest like a vice. This wasn’t just about you. It wasn’t just about Mark.
It was about your child.
And these men—all these different versions of the man you loved—weren’t going to leave without a fight.
The silence stretches between you and Mohawk Mark like a tense wire, but it's broken by the sound of his stomach growling loudly. It’s the kind of growl that could be heard by a mile away, echoing over the barren landscape like a dying animal’s last plea for food.
Mark winces, then shoots you a sideways glance. "Not my fault," he mutters defensively, as if you were somehow responsible for his digestive issues. "You wouldn’t believe how much energy it takes to look this good all the time."
You snort despite yourself, arms crossed tightly as you eye the horizon. "Yeah, I’m sure it takes a lot of energy to look like you just woke up in a dumpster after a bender."
"Hey," Mark says, raising an eyebrow. "I’ll have you know that I’m the pinnacle of rugged charm. These things take time. This?" He gestures to himself dramatically, "This is perfection in motion."
"Uh huh," you deadpan, scanning the wasteland for anything that could pass as a food source or even a way out of here. "If perfection means looking like you fought a rockslide and lost, then yeah. You’re totally perfect."
Mark chuckles, but the sound is short-lived as another growl erupts from his stomach, sounding almost ashamed.
"Okay, okay, you win," he says, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "But seriously, if we're gonna make it out of here, we need to find food. And I'm pretty sure you're not gonna find a McDonald's in this hellhole."
You squint at the desolate landscape, considering your options. "Well, unless you're planning to make some weird version of a rock salad, I don't think we're getting anything here. You're gonna have to survive on whatever wild survival instincts you have."
Mark gives a small sigh, muttering, "Great. Just what I need—survival training with you." But then he smirks. "I mean, I'm sure you'll be useful. You probably know how to catch a rabbit or something."
"Yeah, sure. And I'm sure you know how to make fire with your charming personality."
"I could," he counters, turning to face you fully now, his eyes gleaming with the same cocky confidence, "but I’m gonna need a good campfire companion to keep me entertained. You up for the challenge?"
"God help me," you mutter under your breath. "I’d rather deal with a mutant bear at this point."
The moment passes in a stretch of silence, and you both just stand there in the middle of nowhere. The tension between you is palpable, yet there's something oddly comfortable in the banter, as if this dysfunctional, sarcastic dynamic could be the only thing holding your sanity together in this vast, lonely wasteland.
Mark finally shakes his head and groans. "Look, we need to figure this out. And unless you’re secretly a survival expert, we’re gonna have to work together. But only because I’m feeling generous."
You snort. "Yeah, that’s definitely the reason."
"Yeah," he says, cracking his neck, "So, what’s the plan, huh? You got anything in that head of yours?"
You hesitate, narrowing your eyes at the horizon. "I don't know, you got any ideas besides annoying the hell out of me?"
His smirk returns. "Well, I was thinking we could wait for a dragon to fly by and swoop us out of here. Or... we could, y'know, just walk."
You blink at him, trying to figure out if he’s serious or just completely insane. "Oh sure, that’ll totally work."
Mark shrugs, still with that damned smirk on his face. "Hey, no harm in dreaming, right?"
You’re about to retort when your stomach rumbles, an embarrassing reminder that you haven’t eaten in hours either. You glance over at Mark, who’s still looking at you with a faintly amused expression.
"Alright, fine," you mutter. "We’ll walk. But if we end up eating dirt for dinner, I’m blaming you."
"Deal," Mark says, offering you an exaggerated bow. "Lead the way, oh wise survival expert."
You roll your eyes but can't suppress a small smile as you start walking, knowing this journey’s going to be anything but boring.
