love is the death of duty but sometimes duty is the death of love, which would Cregan be? is he like every other man who falls when it comes to love or would he choose his duty over it? for example, Cregan Stark x Targtower!reader who supports the greens technically she stands against Cregan so what would he do? will his love conquer all or will duty win at the end?
i think Cregan would not let go of his duty, his vows, his honor, he would try to keep the love of course but in the situation of a targtower!reader who supports the greens, duty will be the death of love
but afterall, we know so little about Cregan so allow me to indulge in my silly fantasies, or would it be caled sad fantasies in this case?
i've been thinking about it, not just with Cregan i suppose, but the others too, Daemon, Aemond, Aegon, etc. if their love stands against them in the war which would win? their ambition, their vow, their honor, or love?
for Aemond i like to believe love will win, which is strange considering how he is so eager to win the war and get his throne, but i think Aemond is the type to hold on to watever love he is given because he is so starved of it, although i think he'd have an intense emotional turmoil over it...that would be interesting for sure
for Daemon and Aegon I sadly cannot say...i'd like to hear other people's thoughts about it though!!
for me though (as my own person, right now in my situation) i think duty will win, i'm not the person to believe that love conquers all because it just doesn't, sometimes i think love is just not enough...or maybe I am saying that because i have not loved that intensely (we'll see)
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so i'm rereading asoiaf and in the first book theres this quote by maester aemon when he was talking to jon, he says "what is honor to a womans love? [. . . ] we are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. that is our great glory, and our great tragedy."
and we ALL know about starks and their honor. it got me thinking of Cregan and do you guys think he'll have that mindset towards reader? would he be willing to give up THAT much for the woman he loves? feel free to message or send asks or comment, i'm interested in seeing other people's perspective on this!!!
i listened to olivia rodrigo's new song 'the cure' and the end of the song got me thinking...
targaryen!reader (maybe rhaenyra's daughter) who was betrothed to aemond and like they were in love, but since aemond dies they wont end up together right and so at the end of the war she and cregan gets married and cregan genuinely tries to make their marriage feel somewhat real but my girl's just too hurt and traumatized
The Stranger That Knows Me Best is a heartfelt story about connection, vulnerability, and taking chances on the unexpected. Two introverts discover that sometimes, the person who understands you best is the one you’ve never met.
part one | part two | part three
Word count: 4.6k
Warnings: the usual, mostly angst!
Masterlist
authors note: I am currently moving into a new home so I hope you enjoy reading this part until I can update again! I think there might be one more part, maybe two. If you have any requests, please send them in, I need the inspiration and am looking forward to my new writing set up!
The apartment feels suffocating, too quiet. Bucky is on his couch, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. His stomach churns, not just from the headache pounding behind his eyes but from the gnawing pit of regret.
The image of you, standing by the bar last night, arms crossed and eyes guarded—that’s what makes his hangover worse. Not the lingering taste of whiskey or the meaningless, hollow kiss he wishes he could take back.
Just you. And the way you looked at him like he was exactly what he feared becoming—someone who couldn’t be trusted with your heart.
He runs a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. He needs air.
Grabbing his jacket, he steps outside, the cold midmorning air making his eyes sting. He sniffles and zips up his jacket, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he moves on instinct, as if his feet remember his usual route than his brain does in his current state.
He makes it to the coffee shop, pausing before walking in, hoping to find you. He takes a deep breath and walks inside. His eyes wander to the back table but find it empty. His shoulders slump in disappointment. He tries to shake it off as he orders a cup of hazelnut coffee. He takes a seat at the same table that used to bring him comfort but now it just feels cold. He sits there, letting the untouched mug grow cold and stares ahead, remembering the way you smiled at him over the rim of your own mug. He hates how upset he feels, knowing he doesn’t deserve to feel this way. Since he brought you here, the atmosphere has changed. The sight of the empty chair in front of him twists anger and hopelessness deep in his chest.
The park is quieter this morning, the usual sounds of dogs barking and groups of old women chatting on their morning walks, are dulled by his intrusive thoughts. He walks along the path where you had strolled beside him, past the hill where you had sat together. He stops and visualizes the way you had tilted your head up, watching the light filter through the trees, and how he had caught himself watching you. He misses the smile that would appear on your face as he spoke about his past and how much he loved that he was the reason for it. The realization of that had startled him then. Now, it haunts him.
The Brooklyn Promenade stretches out before him, the skyline hazy against the afternoon sky. He leans against the railing, the same spot where you had stood. He remembers the look in your eyes, gleaming as you took in the Manhattan city outline. He had been drawn to that look on your face, the way you absorbed the world like it still had so much beauty to offer. And he had found himself watching you instead, more taken by your beauty and wonder— it made him feel some unfamiliar stir in his chest, something terrifying and real.
Now, the space beside him feels too empty.
The record store is the last stop. The familiar scent of vinyl and dust wrapping around him. Music plays softly over the speakers but it doesn’t make him feel the usual calmness. He walks to the listening booth, stopping in front of it, remembering the way you helped him through a difficult memory.
He hadn’t realized just how much he liked seeing you experience his happiness. Now, all he can think about is how easily he’s managed to ruin everything.
He swipes a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. He’s spent so long keeping people at arm’s length, convincing himself it’s better that way. But you—you slipped through the tiny cracks. And last night, he shattered the fragility between you.
Bucky swallows hard and leaves the store, his mind still a tangled mess of regret.
The fear had crept in before he could stop it. The moment he started wanting this—you—it became too real, too much. He had been here before, letting himself believe in something good, and look where it got him.
Losing his mom nearly broke him. Having Natalie leave right before shattered whatever pieces were left. And now, standing in the wreckage of his own making, he wonders if he’s doomed to repeat the same cycle—pushing people away before they have the chance to leave on their own.
He rubs a hand over his jaw, clenching as he exhales through his nose. He doesn’t know how to fix this. He doesn’t know if he can.
But the thought of losing you for good? That terrifies him more than anything.
And for the first time in a long time, Bucky is scared of something that isn’t the past—he’s scared of the future.
And what it might look like without you in it.
A sharp knock rattles the apartment door. He knows it’s not you, you still haven’t returned from your hasty exit this morning. He texted you once, just wanting to know if you’re okay. He hates the thought of you walking around in an unfamiliar city. You read it but didn’t reply.
He ignores the knocking at first, slouched on his couch, staring at the floor like it holds all the answers he can’t find. But the knocking comes again—louder, more impatient. He knows who it is.
With a sigh, Bucky pushes himself to his feet and opens the door.
Sam doesn’t wait for an invitation. He steps inside, arms crossed over his chest.
“Alright, man,” Sam greets with a stern look and pressing eyes. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Bucky exhales sharply and shuts the door, rubbing a hand over his face. “Not in the mood for a lecture, Sam.”
“Well, that’s too damn bad.” Sam’s eyes darken as he takes a step closer. “Because somebody’s gotta say it. You say you don’t want to lose her, but you’re doing a damn good job pushing her away.”
Bucky clenches his jaw, looking away. “It doesn’t matter.”
Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Bullshit.”
Bucky groans, shoulders tensing. “You don’t get it—”
“No, I get it just fine.” Sam cuts him off, his voice sharper now. “You’re scared. You’ve been running from these feelings for years. And now, instead of dealing with your own shit, you’re just hurting her.”
Bucky flinches but doesn’t argue.
Sam exhales, shaking his head. His voice softens, but there’s no less weight behind it. “I remember what you were like after your mom died. You were wrecked, man. And Natalie? She just walked away. Left you when you needed someone the most.”
Bucky swallows hard, the memories hitting him like a punch to the gut. The loneliness. The heartbreak. The way he shut himself off from everything and everyone after that.
Sam steps closer. “You’ve been keeping people at a distance ever since. And maybe that made sense back then, but not now. Not with her.”
Bucky’s hands clench into fists at his sides. His throat feels tight. “I do care about her, Sam.” He looks away, jaw tightening. “More than I’ve cared about anyone in years.”
Sam nods, like he already knew that. “So what the hell are you doing?”
Bucky exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to let someone in like that again. What if—” He stops himself before the rest of the thought can spill out.
Sam watches him for a long moment before speaking. “You don’t get to use that as an excuse forever, man. Yes, she will be going back to Oregon soon but that doesn’t mean she’s leaving you for good. It’s scary. It’s always gonna be scary. But if you don’t face that fear, you’re gonna lose the best damn thing that’s happened to you.”
Bucky lets out a slow, shaky breath, his chest aching. He doesn’t know what to say—because deep down, he knows Sam’s right.
The bell above the door chimes as Sam steps into the coffee shop, sweeping over the room until he lands on you. You’re by the window, hands curled around a cup of coffee that’s long gone cold, staring out at the city. But you’re not really seeing it. The movement of people, the rush of yellow cabs, the flickering neon signs—they’re all just blurs beyond the glass, as distant as the thoughts clouding your mind.
Sam doesn’t hesitate. He walks over and slides into the chair across from you.
“You look like you could use some company,” he says, resting his arms on the table.
You blink, snapping out of your daze. Your lips tug into a small, tired smile. “Hey, Sam.”
“Hey,” he replies, but there’s a softness to his voice, a knowing look in his eyes. Like he already sees the storm inside you before you can even say a word. He leans forward slightly. “You doing okay?”
You hesitate, your fingers tightening around the ceramic cup. The truth is, you’re not sure. The emotions tangled in your chest are too heavy to sort through. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “I’m just… trying to make sense of it all.”
Sam nods like he expected that. He glances around, then exhales. “You see him now, but you don’t know the version of him that I do—the guy who didn’t even want to get out of bed, who stopped talking to me for weeks.”
Your brows draw together as you look up at him. “After his mom passed?”
Sam nods. “Bucky was different after that. He was always the guy who carried everything on his shoulders, but when she died, it crushed him. And Natalie?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “She didn’t stick around. Their relationship was already rocky, but when grief hit, she made him feel like a burden.”
A sharp pang twists in your chest. Your mind flashes back to the way Bucky had spoken about Natalie. How his voice turned hollow, how his shoulders tensed like even the memory of her was something he wanted to bury deep. And suddenly, you understand it more. The way he hesitates, the way he pushes and pulls, how he keeps you at arm’s length even when his eyes tell a different story.
Sam continues, his voice quieter now. “He stopped showing up. Stopped answering calls, stopped seeing people. And when he did come back around… it wasn’t the same. He didn’t let anyone in after that. Not really.”
You lower your gaze, tracing the rim of your cup with your fingertip. The weight of Sam’s words settles into your chest, filling in the gaps of a story Bucky never quite told you himself.
“And now?” you ask, your voice softer.
Sam studies you for a long moment before answering. “Now, he’s trying. Or at least, he was—until he screwed up.”
A humorless laugh escapes you as you shake your head. “Yeah. Until he screwed up.”
Sam doesn’t argue with that. He just watches your reaction.
You swallow hard, staring down at your untouched coffee. “I don’t know what to do, Sam. I care about him. A lot. But I can’t be someone’s maybe. I can’t stand here waiting for him to decide if he wants me in his life as a friend or as more.”
Sam nods, thoughtful. “I get it. And I’m not here to make excuses for him. What he did was messed up. But I just thought you should know… he’s not a bad guy. He just doesn’t know how to let himself be happy.”
Your throat tightens. Because as much as you hurt, as much as you’re angry and disappointed—you know Sam’s right. You’ve seen it in the way Bucky looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, in the way his fingers hesitate before touching yours, like he’s afraid of wanting something he’s convinced himself he can’t have.
And now you see it in yourself, too. The ache in your chest isn’t just from what he did—it’s from knowing he doesn’t believe he deserves more than what his past taught him.
“I just…” You pause, your voice smaller now. “I want to be there for him.”
Sam exhales, offering you a sad smile. “Maybe he needs to figure out how to let himself be loved first.”
You nod slowly and let his words sink in. Understanding Bucky doesn’t erase the hurt. But it does leave you with one painful question:
How much longer can you wait for someone who’s still learning what he wants?
That night, when the knock on the guest room door comes, you’re not surprised.
You’ve been expecting it.
Still, you hesitate. Your fingers hover over the handle for a beat too long before you finally pull the door open.
Bucky stands on the other side, looking exhausted—like he hasn’t slept in days. His hoodie hangs loose on his frame, hands shoved deep into the front pocket, shoulders hunched like the weight of everything is pressing down on him all at once. But it’s his eyes that catch you. There’s no shield there, no guarded walls—just rawness. Regret.
“Can we talk?” he asks hesitantly.
You inhale slowly. There’s no anger left in you, not really—just exhaustion, just a dull ache where warmth used to be. Without a word, you step back, leaving just enough space for him to walk inside.
Bucky lingers for a moment before he moves, running a hand through his hair as he exhales. The silence stretches, pressing down on both of you.
Finally, he breaks it.
“I was wrong,” he says, voice rough. “I keep messing this up. I keep pushing you away, and I know why—I just don’t know how to stop.” He swallows hard, shifting his weight like he’s fighting himself. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just… I don’t know how to be what you need.”
His words land deep, stirring up everything you’ve been feeling since you got here—the warmth of him, the way he made you feel seen, the way he kept you close, then pushed you away in the same breath.
You tighten your arms around yourself, steadying your voice. “I care about you, Bucky.” The words come easier than you expect. “But I won’t be someone you keep at arm’s length just because you’re scared.”
His jaw tightens. His hands ball into fists at his sides. “I’m not scared of you,” he says too fast, then, softer, “I’m scared of what this means.”
“I get it,” you say carefully. “But fear isn’t an excuse to push a friend away and drown your sorrows in alcohol when I’m here because of you. You wanted me here, Bucky. And everything was going great—until Natalie showed up, and suddenly, it was like you weren’t even the same person anymore.”
Bucky flinches, his lips pressing together in frustration.
You exhale sharply, shaking your head. “I understand if seeing her brought up a lot for you. If it messed with your head. But why couldn’t you talk to me about it? We’ve traded letters for months, you’ve been open with me in ways I don’t think you’ve been with anyone else. But now, in person, it feels like there’s a part of you you’re hiding on purpose.”
Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose as he responds. “I wasn’t trying to hide. I just… I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to let myself have something good without waiting for it to go wrong.”
Your chest tightens. “That’s the thing, Bucky,” you say softly. “I wasn’t waiting for anything to go wrong. I was just here. I am here”
His breath stutters, and for a second, you see something crack in his expression.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and you believe him. You really do.
But believing him doesn’t change the fact that something in you has shifted.
You let out a slow, steadying breath, feeling the ache of the words before you even say them. “I think it’s time for me to go home.”
Bucky’s head snaps up, his whole body going still. “What?”
You force yourself to meet his gaze, to keep your voice level. “I came here to spend time with you. To figure out how we would be together. And I think I have.”
Something flickers across his face—panic, maybe. Regret. The kind that comes too late.
Bucky’s lips part like he wants to argue, to fight, but no words come out. Because what could he say?
And then, after a long, agonizing beat, he nods. Once. Just enough to let you go.
The morning light filters through the window, casting soft golden streaks across the ceiling. You’ve been awake for hours, staring at the shifting light patterns. Sleep never really came last night—not when your mind kept replaying every moment, every word, every hesitation in Bucky’s voice.
This isn’t how you imagined this trip ending.
You wanted clarity. Connection. A reason to stay.
Instead, you’re left with the stark realization that no matter how much you care about Bucky, no matter how much he might care about you, he’s stuck in a place you can’t reach. And you won’t break yourself trying to pull him out.
The thought sits heavy in your chest as you finally force yourself to move. Each motion feels mechanical—pulling your suitcase from the corner, folding clothes with a numb detachment. You hesitate over the little things he’s given you, the small tokens of your time together—his hoodie draped over the chair, the vinyl from the record store, a book he’d set on your nightstand with a quiet, “Thought you’d like this.”
You trace your fingers over the spine before slipping it into your bag.
Leaving feels wrong. It feels like severing something that was never meant to be broken. But staying? Staying would hurt more.
You reach for your phone, your voice quiet but firm as you reschedule your flight and call Wanda to see if she can be there to pick you up. “Yeah, I’ll be there soon… No, it’s fine. I’m ready to come home.”
The words feel like a lie even as you say them.
Bucky doesn’t mean to eavesdrop.
He was heading to the kitchen when he heard your voice from the guest room. He freezes in place, your words slamming into him like a gut punch.
"I’m ready to come home."
The finality in your tone knocks the breath from his lungs. You’re leaving.
He knew this trip wasn’t permanent, but hearing it like this—knowing you’re leaving now, that you might never come back—makes his insides unravel.
His grip tightens on the edge of the counter, his pulse a frantic rhythm against his ribs. His mind races through every moment—the way you laughed with Sam at the bar, the way you fit so easily into his world, the way your fingers brushed his as you walked around his city. The way you looked at him last night, waiting for something he couldn’t give, and the way he hated himself for it.
He wants to stop you. To tell you not to go. To finally say everything he’s been too afraid to say.
But what if it’s too late?
What if he’s already lost you?
His feet move before he makes the decision. He’s at your door in an instant, his breath uneven, his heart pounding like it’s trying to break free from his chest.
He lifts a hand to knock—hesitates.
Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he pushes the door open.
You turn, startled, eyes wide as you clutch a sweater to your chest. The sight of you mid-pack, standing in the middle of a room that already feels emptier, hits him harder than he expects.
For a moment, neither of you speak.
Bucky swallows hard, his voice rough when he finally finds it. “You don’t have to go.”
Your breath catches, fingers curling into the fabric of your sweater. “Bucky…”
“I know I messed up,” he rushes out, stepping closer. “I know I pushed you away. And I know I don’t deserve to ask you this, but…” He exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “Stay. Just—stay a little longer.”
You close your eyes briefly, willing yourself to hold firm. “I can’t.”
The words are soft, but they land like a hammer between you.
Bucky’s jaw tightens, his expression crumbling for a fraction of a second. He nods, stepping back as if to brace himself. “Right.”
You watch him, waiting for something—an argument, a plea, anything that might make this easier. But he doesn’t fight you. He just looks at you, and for the first time, you see it clearly.
Bucky doesn’t know how to fight for someone to stay.
And you can’t be the one to teach him.
The ride to the airport is quiet.
Bucky insisted on driving you, and despite everything, you let him. Maybe because you weren’t ready to say goodbye back at his place, maybe because a part of you wanted just a little more time with him.
Now, sitting in the passenger seat of his car, watching the city blur past, the silence stretches between you like a thread pulled too tight, on the verge of snapping.
He grips the steering wheel with both hands, knuckles taut. Every so often, he glances over at you, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how.
Neither of you turn on the radio.
Neither of you break the silence.
Because what is there to say?
You’re leaving. And this time, Bucky isn’t stopping you.
The airport comes into view too soon, a cold reminder that this is real, that in a few minutes, you’ll be walking through those doors and out of his life.
He pulls up to the curb and puts the car in park, exhaling like it physically pains him.
You unbuckle your seatbelt, fingers trembling slightly as you reach for your suitcase in the backseat. When you turn back around, Bucky is already out of the car, stepping around to meet you. The weight in his eyes nearly makes you stumble.
You shift on your feet, gripping the suitcase handle too tightly. “You didn’t have to drive me.”
He tries to swallow the thick sorrowness that’s creeping its way up. “Yeah, I did.”
A pause.
The wind picks up, rustling your hair.
Bucky shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket, his gaze flickering over your face, trying to commit every detail to his memory. “I, uh…” He clears his throat, shifting on his feet. “I know I don’t deserve to ask, but—will you still write to me?”
The words nearly break you.
You exhale sharply, blinking back the sting in your eyes. “I don’t know, Bucky.”
He nods stiffly, looking down as he expected that answer.
You step closer, hesitating just a fraction before reaching for him. Your fingers brush over his forearm first, then move up, slowly wrapping around his back. And Bucky—Bucky doesn’t hesitate at all.
His arms come around you in an instant, pulling you against his chest with an urgency that nearly knocks the breath out of you. His grip is strong, desperate, he’s afraid to let go.
Your face presses against the worn fabric of his jacket, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe him in—his warmth, his quiet strength, the scent of the familiarity and fleetingness of his presence.
You don’t know how long you stand there, wrapped up in each other, neither one of you willing to be the first to pull away.
But then the announcement sounds out over the speakers, a reminder of where you are.
You close your eyes and force yourself to step back. Bucky’s arms drop to his sides, fingers flexing because he wants to reach for you again but knows he can’t.
“Take care of yourself, Bucky,” you whisper, holding back tears threatening to fall.
His jaw tightens. “You too.”
You grab your suitcase, forcing your feet to move toward the doors, toward the life waiting for you in Oregon.
You don’t look back.
You can’t.
But if you did, you’d see Bucky standing there, unmoving, eyes glued to you as you disappeared from him.
And as he finally drags himself back to his car, gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing holding him together, the tears start flowing. .
Bucky unlocks the door to his apartment, stepping inside as silence greets him. He exhales slowly, taking off his boots and jacket and makes his way to the kitchen. His hand hovers over the light switch, hesitating.
His eyes land on the mug you last used. He picked it up for you before you arrived, wanting you to have something of your own while you stayed here. He remembered you writing to him that you always have a mug of tea before bed every night.
He wanted to make you feel at home or at least like his home could be yours too.
He walks over to the sink and picks it up, noticing it still full and untouched of dark brown liquid.
His grip tightens around the ceramic, his jaw clenching as he stares down into the empty sink. The anger isn’t really at the mug, or even at you—it’s at himself.
With a sharp inhale, he sets the mug back down. Not because he wants to, but because he knows if he doesn’t, it’ll end up shattered in his hands.
Bucky doesn’t think—he just moves.
He grabs his running shoes, shoves his headphones in and steps out into the cold night air. The Brooklyn streets are quieter now. He starts off at a steady pace, his breath coming in measured exhales, his body falling into the familiar rhythm of running.
When the weight of the world gets too heavy, when the noise in his head refuses to settle, this is what he does. He runs until his legs burn, until his lungs ache, until there’s nothing left but the sound of his feet hitting the pavement and the steady pounding of his heart.
But tonight, it doesn’t work.
Because tonight, every step feels like he’s chasing something he already lost.
His mind flashes back to you—the way your shoulders tensed at the airport, like you were holding back everything you really wanted to say. The way you held onto him just a second longer during that last hug before finally letting go.
Bucky pushes himself harder, his feet slamming against the pavement as he takes a sharp turn down a quieter street. His breathing is ragged now, his body screaming for him to slow down, but he doesn’t. He can’t. Because stopping means thinking, and thinking means feeling, and he doesn’t want to feel this.
He runs past the coffee shop and his stomach clenches. He runs past the record store where he shared such a thoughtful, tough memory with you.
Everywhere he goes, you’re still there.
He finally comes to a stop at the Brooklyn Promenade, hands on his knees, chest heaving as he stares out at the city lights reflecting over the water. He used to love this view. Used to come here when he needed clarity.
But right now, all he sees is the ghost of you standing beside him, a memory he can’t outrun.
The realization crashes over him like a wave, and for the first time in a long time, Bucky feels it all.
The regret. The longing. The emptiness you left behind.
And for the first time, he doesn’t know if running will ever be enough to escape.
Thank you so much for reading <3 please reblog or comment below, I love hearing your thoughts and feedback!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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✷ premise : as tensions rise and your family is forced out of the only home you've ever known, fish boy meets forest girl and the rest is history (tragedy)
✷ warnings : kidnapping, swearing, injury, blood, violence, and death
✷ author's note : this ones gunna be a rollercoaster of emotions so... sorry about that
part 3 of the SOLD OUT OF LOVE series
He's brought you to a cave, the ocean seemingly only a gateway to a hidden world, for there lay an island surrounded by water, home to a plethora of lush fauna, full of bright flowers of different colours, leaves spread open like fans double the size of a Na'vi, the sand like crushed up gemstones glittering and shimmering underneath the sunlight, a throng of giant trees towering over you, almost brushing the ceiling, the ceiling in which had a hole big enough to allow sunlight in, giving justice to the island's glory.
You couldn't contain your awe and so you simply stood there, admiring the whole cave as your heart practically swelled at its beauty. "Oh my fucking Eywa" was all you could say, and everything you wanted to say.
"No one knows this place but me" says Ao'nung, stepping closer to you. "Here you will be able to feel simple again"
At that you turn around, looking at him in disbelief. "Ao'nung-"
"No" He stops you. "I won't hear any of it, this place is yours now... as much as mine"
So you recalculate your approach. "Thank you" You say instead.
He bows his head. "You're welcome"
You walk towards the island, well, more like ran, you were eager to see every bit of it, Ao'nung simply stood and watched as you leaped around, pointing things out he himself hasn't seen before, your laughter the only thing he could hear.
"So why'd you bring me here? To your secret spot?" You insist, taking a seat on the rock as your eyes followed him, taking a seat beside you.
"It's my way of making my peace"
"You already said sorry"
You see him shake his head. "It is not enough, even after I have apologised I found that not even that could chasten the guilt burning inside me"
It made you think.
"It's me... doing you a solid " He says, the unfamiliarity of the phrase to him making it known.
"I'm still not entirely convinced I was the first person you've brought here"
"You don't believe me?"
You shake your head. "Nah"
He scoffed.
"So you're telling me you didn't even bring Rotxo here?"
"No"
"Not even your other friends?"
He sneers at you. "Especially not them"
"Not even a few girls?" You grinned suggestively.
He shoves you away, both of you laughing. "Cut it out, of course not"
You stood in front of him now, showing him your hands. "Maybe I'm getting this all wrong, what about boys?"
He half-shrugged, staring up at you. "A few close calls but... no, they did not want to pursue the son of the Olo'eyktan"
You give him a small smile, a distant one. "Back home, neither did they, no one there took me seriously, it's the problem with keeping your options open, they get scared, run for the hills, leaving you with nothing"
His eyes snapped up. "Wait-"
"You're kidding me, you didn't take a guess?" You laughed. "Like calls to like"
His aquamarine eyes still on you, he lets out an amused scoff. "Huh"
This was where you hum, nodding in understanding. "So, i'm the only girl you've ever brought here?"
"The first and the last" He replied darkly.
"Am I just gunna turn into one of your Na'vi sacrifices?"
"Keep talking and you might find out"
You let out a lone cackle, pulling your head back and allowing your laughter to let loose, seemingly drunk off of nothing but the pure idea of having a good time with the same boy you wanted to kill just a few days ago, and he sees all of this, from your cheeky grin, to your flushed cheeks, to your narrowed amber eyes that glistened as your body shook with laughter.
"I feel like you'll tell me that you don't actually like leading people and that you want to become a Tsahík instead" You say, turning your back on him and walking towards a white flower that grew on stringy vines, you rub the petal, feeling the smooth, delicate surface in between the pads of your fingers before propping yourself up.
"I do"
"Wow, that was spot on" You say, mostly to yourself.
"But how do you know that Forest Girl?" He wonders, looking you straight in the eyes, the huskiness of his accent mixing with the silvery nature of his voice only inclining you to tell him why.
"Your face, your bruises healed quickly than your friends, and I expect they paid a visit to your mother after the fight" You explained, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. "Your hands were dyed purple when you saw me by the rocks, and I recognised the smell, you used tam'bon on your face and your knuckles mixed with other poultices from the many mixtures your mother has in your Marui, you'd have to be paying really close attention to know which to use on your face"
"My mother is the Tsahík, I see her healing people everyday"
"No" you stop him. "Only someone this passionate about healing would be taking note of everything the Tsahík does, it isn't a coincidence, you were listening on purpose"
His eyes widened like saucers. "Wow"
"You used yalna bark too, I can tell"
He nods, standing to his feet. "Impressive"
"One of my many, many talents" You bragged, giving him a sly smirk. "You should try guessing me next"
"Fine uhhh" He sang, rubbing his knuckles together. "You don't like being told what to do"
"Yes, but very obvious, dig a little deeper"
"Fine" He says again. "You're the oldest daughter?"
"No, you forgot about Kiri, Lo'ak goes after her, I go after Lo'ak"
"Really?" He asks. "I always thought you were older than her"
"How?" You questioned him genuinely, until a light bulb buzzed to life above your head. "You know what? this could be a thing"
"What thing?"
You sit down in front of him. "There's this game we play back in the Omaticayan Village, it's called 20 questions, instead of us trying to guess we'd have to ask, and the other person has to answer no matter what"
"No matter what?" He asks.
"No. matter. what" You reiterate gravely.
"You go first then" He says nodding at you.
"How old are you?" You began, already grinning like a maniac.
"16" Ao'nung answers. "17 in 2 months, how old are you?"
"14, turning 15 in..." you stopped to count. "6- no, 7 months"
He nods. "Next question"
"How tall are you?"
"8 foot 5"
You raise an eyebrow at him. "Really? Some people say they're 8 feet tall but in reality they're only 7 foot 9"
"How can I be 7 foot 9?" He exclaimed, almost scandalised.
"I dunno, you ask yourself that" You frowned.
"Just ask the next question" He says boredly.
You bite your inner lip in thought, exhaling when you finally think of the next question. "Why do you hang around them?" You found yourself asking instantly. "Those boys, you don't even seem to like them all that well"
That seemed to have ceased the lightheartedness of the situation, silence settling in awkwardly, quickly, like a virus finding a host.
"I dont know why" He tells you quietly. "It's a comfortable choice, they never seem to care about anything except the present, they don't care that I am to be the next Olo'eyktan, that I am to lead our people for the many years to come, if I stick with them maybe I can forget what is to be my fate"
You stay quiet, so does he. It's almost a dizzying experience, to have Ao'nung pour himself out to you like that when 5 days ago all you wanted in life was to rip his head clean off his shoulders, half of you were expecting for him to stand up, laugh in your face for believing such a thing but as time progressed you found that flame dying rapidly.
But he exhaled, making you glance at him. "What about you Forest Girl?"
You snort, grinning. "What about me??"
"You got any secrets worth my time?"
"I got no secrets, I'm an open book"
"Surely there must be something you aren't telling me" He pressed. "What's your favorite food?"
"Pizza- well used to"
"What's that?"
"It's sort of like this triangular shaped snack with meat, and cheese, and tomato sauce on it"
"Oh, well alright" He says, all while having no clue what that is. "What's your favorite food now then?"
"I'm torn between melon tree fruit and yovo fruit"
He grinned. "That, I can get behind by"
"Oh!" You exclaimed, snapping your fingers. "What's your favorite colour?"
"Yellow " He answered.
"Really?" You scoffed. "I thought you'd say blue or something"
He gives you a look. "Blue? Why Blue?"
You gesture to him, making him frown. "Why wouldn't you say blue?"
He gives you an insincere laugh. "Very funny Forest Girl" He drawled. "What about you then? What's your favorite colour?"
"Y/F/C" you state, pushing your hair back away from your face.
He half-shrugged, staring at his finger nails. "Yeah, I guessed as much"
You draw a line on your teeth with your tongue. "If you could leave right now, where would you go?"
"Anywhere but here" He replied, standing up as well. "As long as I can get far away from this place as possible"
You watch him as he starts picking up branches on the sand, realizing he just needed to do something with his hands. "This is my home yes, I've never known any place else but I just want to leave, my knowledge only goes as far as riding a skimwing, but I know the ocean will end eventually"
"Then ride an íkran"
"Well I don't know how to, do I?"
"I'll teach you" You offer, leaning against a tree. "If you taught me how to ride an ilu, surely I can teach you how to ride an íkran"
He gives you an incredulous look, tossing the branches into the water. "So you can throw me off 50 feet in the air? no thank you"
"No, I'm serious, do you really want to learn?"
He thinks, almost entertaining the idea. "I would not oppose once the opportunity presents itself"
"The opportunity is practically waving at you, Ao'nung"
"Maybe another day" He says instead, so you decide it was an answer enough.
Whatever stars have aligned, whatever curse was cast on you, the both of you spent about an hour talking about the most aimless things that made even you wonder what kind of sick stunt the universe was trying to pull.
"Stop it! You are throwing me off!" Ao'nung exclaimed trying to stop you from doubling over and laughing.
You wipe the tears collecting at the edge of your eyes, trying to catch your breath. "Just- just say it again-!"
Ao'nung clicks his tongue against his mouth. "I will not, all you'll do is laugh at me!" He protests.
You sit on the rock again, pulling, well, practically forcing him to sit down before he could run away again. "I promise I won't laugh just- just say it again"
He sits back down unceremoniously, no thanks to you. "What is a castrated smurf anyway? Why do I need to tell Neteyam he looks like a castrated smurf? "
"Because you can" You insist, trying to resist your laughter again. "It's a glowing compliment amongst Sky People, trust me"
"Fine" He says, rolling his eyes at you. "I trust you"
You giggled through your nose, a smile breaking on your face as you look at him.
amber meeting aquamarine.
Your eyes trail to the giant purple bruises that littered his face, then to his neck where you had cut him with your dagger, all the millions of white freckles on his face like Eywa had kissed stars onto the afternoon sky.
You blink, so does he, and suddenly you tear away from eachother, you turn away from him, Ao'nung starts rubbing at his nape as you feel silence encapsulate you once more.
"Where did your necklace go?" He asks, almost on cue a wave of coldness washes over your collarbone.
"It snapped off during the fight, I went back for it, tried finding the pieces but with all the sand flying around during it I barely found half" You replied.
Oh great. another thing Ao'nung felt responsible for. "I see" He replies.
So you stand up, looking at everything but him, the trees, the white petals fading into purple then yellow, its orange stigmas standing tall, you walk up to it, leaning into it to take a whiff, light, musky, sweet, you found yourself sniffing it again, you hold it by its stem, it snaps off instantly, startling you, you try and grab it but Ao'nung gets to it before you, even slapping your hand away just so he could give it to you himself.
"There, so you can sniff it til your heart's content" He says, the latter part of his sentence sounding sarcastic but you take it nonetheless, twirling it between your fingers before you look up at him.
You stand up on your toes and you tuck the flower between his ear, landing back to your feet to see an unimpressed Ao'nung staring back at you.
"Oh Jesus do I wish I had a camera" You sighed longingly.
You see him cross his arms over his chest, a ball forming at his temple as he tightened his jaw. "I look like a joke"
"You look pretty"
"I'm not pretty" He said. "I'm hot"
You let out a laugh. "Whatever helps you sleep at night"
"take it off" He whined.
"Nuh-uh, I don't want to"
"You're a child" He declares sanctimoniously.
"Uh-huh" You nod absentmindedly.
"Come on, take this stupid flower out, I don't want it"
"Take it off yourself" You say.
He lets out a disparaging groan and pulls it out of his ear, you were about to prove your point but that was before he places the flower behind your ear instead. Your eyes widen a centimeter and your cheeks flush to a lilac as your hand instinctively reaches up to it, your fingertips barely brushing the tips of the petals.
"There" Ao'nung says, pulling you out of your trance. "Now you look like the joke"
You narrow your eyes at him and walk away towards the water, the bioluminescent creatures making your stomach drop.
"Fuck" you say, making Ao'nung turn around. "Ao'nung how long have we been down here?"
"I know as much as you do Forest Girl" He retaliates.
"We gotta go back"
The sound of the conch shell make your heads snap upwards, towards the hole of cave where the moon was only a ways off from casting it's silvery glow onto the island.
You turn to Ao'nung. "Oh you're so fucked" You laughed.
"Says you" He laughed back, pointing a finger at your face before you slap it away, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head at you for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day before running back to the way you came with you tailing him. Once the two of you reach the water he dives in, barely even making a splash and resurfacing mere seconds later.
"Come on!"
"But my-"
"It'll stay on" He cuts you off mid-sentence, seeming to know what your next words were. So you jump in, paddling alongside him as you tried swimming out of there before he did, eventually you made it out of the structure, swimming upwards like your life depended on it, glancing at Ao'nung every now and then, only for you to pick up your pace as he picked up his. You resurface at the same time, he beats you at calling his ilu first while you took a while catching your breath, he saddles his ilu the moment yours arrived, laughing at you as you struggled to get on.
You tell Hinewai to put the pedal to the metal and you finally managed to catch up on him, his eyes widening as he sees you pop up on his peripheral.
"Hurry up!" He tells you.
You let out a disparaging groan. "What do you think I've been doing smart ass??"
He only laughs, pulling his head back before he dives under the water, shooting out moments later, his ilu spinning on the air before landing back onto the water.
The pair of you decided to round the island, turning to Ao'nung when you see all the village people crowding the docks, muttering your name, only for him to avoid your eyes.
You hop off your ilu as does he, trudging up the sand as you feel the eyes of every Metkayin trained on you, parting the crowd was your mother, your father, Neteyam, and Lo'ak, followed by your sisters close behind.
"She's here!" Dad calls out to the people, you couldn't help but frown as he began checking your arms and your face. "She's alright! She's fine"
"My son" Tonowari starts, almost pulling your focus towards him. "Is it true what they say? That you have brought Lo'ak beyond the reef? That you have risked his life?"
You snap your head towards Ao'nung, your face falling only to see him glancing up at his father with a pensive look. "Yes" He replies without hesitation.
Ronal jumps down the platform only to pull his ear, making him wince. "What were you thinking?! Leading Toruk Makto's son to his death??" She hissed, Ao'nung avoiding her face. "This behavior is beneath you"
Jake takes your shoulder and makes you face him. "Where the hell have you been? I thought I taught you better than to not keep track of the time"
"I know but i-"
"No, no excuses" He snapped, hopping over the platform, you trying to follow him.
"Dad just please-" You insist.
He turns to you. "You'll get to talk when we get back to our pod, now drag your ass back home"
"Toruk Makto please-" says Ao'nung, almost stepping in between you and your father, he meets your father's gaze and he immediately regrets his decision, his eyes flicking towards you only to see pure hatred burning back into his retinas. "I am at fault here" He began again cautiously.
You try and ignore the whispers that reverberated around you, the looks of your brothers practically burning into your scalp. "I brought her with me to apologise for our altercation a couple of days ago, I did not mean to bring her home this late, we were caught up in eachother, we lost track of time, believe me, my intentions with your daughter are pure-"
Jake blinks, you could practically feel his anger radiate off of him. "-i'm sorry what?"
"-Dad, this is not what it looks like" You jump in front of Ao'nung, your eyes wide as the whispers around you only intensified.
Ao'nung nudges you away. "-Please, Toruk Makto do not blame your daughter, she has done nothing wrong"
Ronal walks up to Ao'nung grabbing his chin and tilting it upwards, giving everyone a perfect view of his scar. "She might as well explain what is this then"
Neytiri comes forward, feeling her behind you. "My daughter will not answer to you"
"We've discussed this alright? We've buried the hatchet, it's done and dealt with" Jake explained hurriedly, eyes switching from you, to the Tsahík, to you, to Ao'nung.
"While I commend you for trying to make peace on your own terms I cannot forget the fact that you have put Lo'ak in grave peril and returned Y/N home past eclipse"
"No," says Lo'ak. "Going past the reef was not Ao'nung's fault, it was my idea, he tried to talk me out of it, really"
"Lo'ak-" Neytiri started.
"I'm sorry" was all your twin could say before he too hopped up on the platform.
You begin your walk of shame, plodding through the woven pathways as Lo'ak appeared by your side, donning the same downcast expression as you did, your eyes meet, sending eachother whatever was the most microscopic amounts of optimism left in you before your father caught up to you.
"Dad, you told us to make friends with these kids that's all I was trying to-"
"-I don't wanna hear it"
"-Dad" You start, trying to back Lo'ak up, all while having no desire to lengthen this argument any further, but he dosen't even look at you.
"You have brought shame to this family" He tells Lo'ak, who simply stood beside you with an impassive expression.
"Can I go now?" He wonders impatiently.
"Anymore trouble I jerk a knot in your tail, you read me?"
"Yes sir, Lima Charlie" He replies before walking off, you pivot your heel and follow him, trying to put as much distance away from you and your parents as possible only to have Jake pull you back and face them.
"That's strike 2 for you young lady" He says, showing you two fingers to make himself clear. "Look, I dunno what went in your head when you decided to follow Ao'nung when your brother had been missing for hours-"
"-I didn't know he was missing"
He opens his mouth to say something but closes it quickly and sighs. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph" He exclaimed, raking his face with dread. "You're still a kid, I don't want you making decisions that'll make your life go up in smoke, you know that right?"
You nod, your jaw still tight.
"But do I still gotta ask you to keep an eye on your brother every once in a while? I know he's older than you but you know how he gets when he's all riled up-!" He ejaculated, throwing his hand in the air. "I gotta worry about Lo'ak, I gotta worry about Tuk, I gotta worry about Kiri, do I gotta worry about you too?"
You shake your head. "No sir"
"Good" He tells you, his eyes darting up to the flower stuck to your ears and you couldn't help but notice it. "Then we're done here, am I understood?"
"Sir, yes, sir" You nod, your feet already itching to get away.
"Good, get out of here" He nods towards the docks and you didn't telling twice. Pushing past the villagers, you hop down the platform, knowing full well who you were going to find next.
And you do find him, walking alone on the beach, almost sulking.
You didn't exactly try and mask the sound of your footsteps and so he sees you about 5 feet away from him.
His eyes light up. "What are you-"
You slam your hands onto his chest, sending him staggering back several steps away from you.
"Are you fucking brain dead? " You seethe, narrowing your eyes at him, pushing at him again and watching him collect himself. "Are you insane? "
"I don't think I am, no" He exclaimed, watching you go on a rampage.
"What the fuck is wrong with you??? Trying to embarrass me in front of your whole goddamn clan?? Is that what you wanted this whole time? Try and get me to lower my guard down? Make me laugh? Make me reveal my secrets? so that in the end I can make you look like a fucking hero???" You yell at him, bashing your fists against his chest.
"Stop it-!" He shouts, trying to grab your fists.
You push him away. "No! No! Let me go!"
"I will when you calm down-!"
You yanked your arms away from his grasp, pointing a slender finger at his face, looking at him with unbridled rage and fury. "Is that what you wanted? To make a fool out of me??"
He swallows, hesitating. "No-"
"Do you know what you did??" You ask him, your voice cracking. "Do you know-"
"-No!" Ao'nung shouts. "No! I don't know-!"
"You made me look weak! Like I needed to rely on some man for protection!" You screeched into the sea before whirling towards him.
"I stood up for you! I defended you and this is what I get?? Not even a thank you???" He yelled.
You slapped him across the face, he turns to you, clutching his cheek.
"I never asked you to defend me did i?" You tell him.
"I still did"
"Learn to take a hint next time"
"You should be grateful" He spat.
You hummed, staring at his face. "The next time you raise your tongue against me I won't hesitate to give you a matching set" You say, prodding his bruised cheekbone, hearing him hiss in pain before pulling the flower from behind your ear and throwing it to the sand, you gave him one last look and with that you turn around, marching back to the village.
Ahhhhh!!!! this is amazing i cant wait for the next part! this honestly deserves so much more attention, the convo sounds natural, the way is written is just *chefs kiss*, and just-EVERYTHING ABOUT IT IS AMAZING I LOVE IT DJDHSISJZJS🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭
i was going to ask all of my moots this question one by one but then i thought that this could turn into a nice reblog chain)) so, reblog with the link to your most favorite fic you wrote. it can be something that you're either very passionate about, or your best work, or just a fic that makes you very proud of and you would like for more people to see it ♡
i'll go first - all for you (pt 1, pt 2) with neteyam x ta'unui!reader
it was my first avatar fic (and def the longest one) but i enjoyed planning the plot and writing it so much, i am very proud of how it turned out
tagging my moots and my fav authors to keep this going: @avatarbyamara @teyums @stargirlrchive @mayhemories @neteyumz @starvine @tsireyqs @casiia @loaksky @fleursbending @gloryy-vs @neteyamslovrr @hinataashoyos @justasimps-blog @eywascall @cinetrix @love-chx @netegf @mechformers @viviswtings @coffeeandbookskeepmealive @theblueflower05 @netemoon @tiredmamaissy @reyalvr
my fav fic that i’ve written so far would have to be can only hope. it was my first ever fic that i posted on here & holds a special place in my heart.
tags (sry if you were tagged in the initial post):
i would say that the favorite fic that i've written so far would be the aonung x reader in my drafts, but i do not know if that counts because it hasn't been finished yet, so it prolly would be Family Jewels — chapter 3 , i had soo much fun writing it and people liked it!!
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