Everything around you was slightly blurry, but you were having a hell of a time as you leaned against your boyfriend, giggling at whatever he just said. His eyes were a little hazy too, and you felt wrapped up in your own little world at the counter of this bar.

A few seats down was another set of eyes, far clearer than all his friends, watching you and your boyfriend looking oh-so-lovingly at each other.

He wasn't even envious of either of you; Aang had been watching the both of you for far longer than just tonight. When you and Sokka first got together, Aang was more than happy for you both. The war had just ended and everyone finally felt free enough to indulge in love. What was there to be upset about when you both had always had so much chemistry, your humor matching Sokka's perfectly and his chaos complimenting yours.

Everyone was surprised you weren't married yet, but you both always said it would come eventually.

Aang was admittedly a little relieved over this fact -- if not also feeling a bit guilty about being relieved -- because he still hadn't figured out a way to approach you two. Some part of him was fighting to rationalize any part of what he felt was insanity, fighting to tell himself that his craving for the both of you was morally sound because you weren't married yet. Aang really did feel it was driving him insane, though.

The flush of your cheeks made the finest of velvet look like cheap materials in comparison, and Sokka's laughter made his heart leap in ways he didn't know it could.

For as long as he's pined after the both of you, though, he still hasn't found the courage to say anything. How do you tell your best friend and his girlfriend you really want to see what it feels like to kiss them both, at the same time?

Aang didn't know you had caught him staring hours ago.

You had nudged Sokka discreetly the moment you noticed, and he nodded to let you know he already knew. You leaned up to his ear, whispering quietly, "Should we finally do it? He looks so sad."

Sokka leans over, cupping his hand around your own ear, "You sure, baby? You ready to let him in?"

You both pull back, making eye contact. Sokka's eyes are digging through yours, looking for any traces of hesitance, but he finds none. You give him a small nod and his smile from before returns, but doubled, wrapping his arm around your waist. "Whatever you want, pretty girl. I'm ready for it if you are," he's mumbling into your temple, where he places a gentle kiss.

You waited a littel longer, still focusing on having a good time drinking with friends throughout the night, enjoying the rare, casual visit from Zuko and Toph from the fire nation.

But Sokka caught every glance you sent Aang's way when the Avatar finally focused on what his friends were saying, the way you nibbled your lower lip -- Sokka had been chubbing for a good half hour at this point, impatiently waiting to drag his own tongue down Aang's throat. As the atmosphere died down, you nudged Sokka again. He glances over to you, nodding his head in subtle agreement.

Even through your inebriated states, you had agreed on this before you'd touched a drop of alcohol, and the want had only grown stronger with each following sip. Aang, ever the righteous monk, hadn't had any alcohol, and that worked perfectly for you and Sokka both.

You wanted him to remember the wild ride you had planned for the night.

Zuko and Toph made their way back to their respective hotel in town, and Katara took off by herself to go home and start her nightly routine, "I've back to back meetings with the council tomorrow." It's like the universe agreed that it was time to give the Avatar everything he's always wanted, and it made you giggle to yourself. You and Sokka stand and stretch from your bar stools, as does Aang.

The way he lifts his hands over his head makes the split in his robe scrunch, then loosen significantly when his hands come back down. You and Sokka stare shamelessly at the expanse of chest that exposes itself, internally sighing in disappointment when he adjusts the garment.

"Hey Aang, you in those meetings tomorrow, too? If not, me and Sokka were gonna keep drinking a little at our house and playing board games, if you wanna join us."

Aang swears his heart is beating so loud you can hear it over the crowd of the bar, and he has to remember he has to reign it in.

He can't help it though -- neither of you are even doing anything and his palms are sweating. You're smiling so sweetly as you ask him, and the way your hand is resting on your hip has his eyes moving on their own, tracing it's outline. He's the Avatar for fuck's sake, he doesn't have enough control not to watch the way his best friends arm's flex as they cross?

"Um, no. I mean- no, I'm not in the meetings tomorrow. It's kinda late though.."

"Aww, you know we keep the spare bed for guests buddy! We can have a sleepover like we all used to do." Aang tries not to visibly wince at 'buddy', as he begins to mull it over.

It's just a sleepover. Just like old times, just liked buddies. There's no reason for him to not indulge for the night, so why is he so nervous? Sokka's arm wraps around Aang's broad shoulders, and you take a mental photo of their muscles press together before you wrap yourself around the youngest of you three -- and the tallest, as equally frustrating and attractive that is -- smiling wide and meeting his grey eyes.

"C'mon, you don't have to drink. Jus' wanna hang out with my two favorite guys!"

don't blush don't blush don't blush don't blush--

"Yeah, sure. What are we playing?"

Aang is too focused on not focusing, trying not to tense at being wrapped up by the both of you, to notice the victorious glance between you and Sokka. It doesn't take long for you three to make it to you and Sokka's home, but Aang feels more relaxed by the time he steps up to your front door.

That's his mistake, honestly.

"You boys wait here, I'm gonna go change real quick into pajamas. Baby, you wanna grab the board games?" The real step one has begun, as you slip into you and Sokka's room to change.

By yourself, you don't bother hiding the subtle rub of your thighs as you think of all the ways you're going to ruin one of your best friends -- there's something warm building deep in your core and if you weren't following a game plan, you'd give yourself an orgasm just by thinking about it. You hope you haven't taken too long, between fantasizing about being between Sokka and Aang, and choosing a nightgown to wear.

You can't just walk out in lingerie, you'd scare the poor boy. No, you had to be subtle and a little more tasteful in your tactic. Something that draped over your thighs and a lace neckline that left your cleavage decorated, but paired with a robe that screamed cozy over sexy. Best of both worlds, really.

When you stepped out, Sokka and Aang were in a heated card game already. Your boyfriend had two drinks poured out for you and him, and a cup of tea sat next to the man sitting there, neither noticing you yet. "You totally cheated!"

"Did not! How do you fucking cheat at 'Go Fish' and how would you not have seen it?"

"I don't know Sokka, you invent new stuff all the time, you could definitely-"

"Alright, alright. Tone it down boys."

Aang isn't gonna make it through the night without a boner. You in your pretty nightgown standing in front of him, with Sokka already shirtless, complaining that 'the alcohol made it too hot', he was wondering if he was being punished. Maybe he hadn't saved enough spirits recently, or maybe he'd been to lax on his training and somehow his past lives were cursing him. Whatever it was, was causing an unmistakable twitch in his pants.

"Alright, I'm gonna go get changed now. Wanna come grab something to sleep in?" He hopes the sweat isn't visible down his blue arrow as he nods, getting up and following Sokka into the room.

Aang agrees with a nod of his head, and you watch them both disappear into the room, smirking once they can't see you. Step two was now in motion.

Sokka is pulling out a set of clothes for Aang, as he speaks, "She looks good in it, right?" His friend is caught off guard, blinking in surprise instead of taking the clothes the water tribe man is attempting to and him. "What- I mean, yes? Yeah, the nightgown is nice. Look's good."

He doesn't know how he's honestly supposed to respond to that question -- too scared to say what he really wants to, to say how badly he wants to pull it off with his teeth and watch you blush from it.

"It's brand new, just got it a week ago. She was saving it for a special occasion, never told me what though." Sokka realizes his friend is too stunned to speak at the question, and decides it's his turn to act. His tan skin wraps perfectly around his toned thighs, Aang thinks, as Sokka drops his pants to 'change'.

"Sorry, you don't mind do you? Moved on muscle memory."

Aang's paler skin is tinted red from his chest to his cheeks, "No! Nope, not at all! I'll just go into the bathroom and-"

"Nah, it's chill. You can change here if you wanna." How was Aang supposed the say no? This was his best friend, and it's not like when they met they were too concerned with privacy. Always sleeping the woods met no separate places to change, but that hadn't happened in a long, long time. Now they were both older, and Aang was much more aware of what kind of feelings he held for his best friend.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks."

Sokka is snorting in his mind, watching Aang fluster and fumble. The much more confident one has gotten himself completely naked, pretending to look for his pajamas. The other man can't help but admire his best friend's back... and his ass. Mostly his ass, as Sokka bends over to look through the lower drawers of his dresser.

Aang turns around to change, still, hopefully avoiding Sokka catching the boner he's sporting.

He's dropping his robe before he realises you're stood in the doorway, catching a perfect view.

When did you even get there?!

"Holy shit! You- When-"

"Holy shit yourself, Avatar. Is that from your past life or is it just you who's that gifted, hm?" Your smile is light a teasing, and you seem so calm compared to what he feels internally. He doesn't even register that Sokka had stopped rummaging through the drawers, turning to watch you two. Aang's heart is beating so hard and so loud, eyes wide in embarrassment, and his prior arousal is mixing dangerously with it.

"Baby, you scared him. You said you'd be smoother about it," Sokka tsk's as he walks over to join the view. He's taking in the view of you, taking in the view of Aang, and watching that familiar hunger fill your eyes. It has his own cock twitching in a way tat has him restraining himself from stroking him, but he knows this has to go slow right now in order for it to go right.

Aang is looking between the two of you, struggling to put together why his best friend isn't freaking out about his girlfriend staring at another man's cock. Not that he hasn't dreamed this exact scenario at least a hundred times over -- he's pictured every position you three could get into at least once, imaging what it would be like to see which one of you could take more. Or if Sokka would make him be the one to take him, while you took Aang.

He's trying so hard not to focus on those things, as he can feel he dribble of precum leak from his tip. It's got him even more embarrassed because Aang knows you're both staring and you both have definitely noticed, so he rushes to turn around and grab the pair of pants he was supposed to wear.

You know it's now or never, and reach out to grab his wrist to stop him, "You know, you don't have to cover anything up... If you don't want to." You're eyes are lidded in an expression Aang has never seen, but Sokka has, and his cock twitches again.

"I'm not sure I understand-"

"Oh, but we do," you start, and Sokka picks it up easily, "We've both seen it. Seen the way you can't keep your eyes off of her. But you know, if you want her, you gotta have me to." He knew Aang wanted him too, but Sokka needed to hear it.

What's he supposed to do? What does this mean? You both noticed? Does this mean you both planned this? ...that you both want him, too?

You tone it down just a bit, watching the internal struggle of Aang, "Hey, if this is too much, that's okay." You're touch is gentle against his forearm, and Sokka nods in agreement. "You don't have to want us both. Or want any of this right now. But we want you. She does. I do. If you want it too."

Aang's throat feels dry, but he can't stop the slow nod. You perk up, but push it a step further. Dropping the robe over your nightgown, you grab Sokka's hand and place it against Aang's chest, with your smaller one beside it, "You gotta say it out loud, Aang, or we can't go further."

"Yes- Spirits, yes, please. Both of you." You watch as Sokka leans in for a heated kiss, not wasting any time after hearing the confirmation. Watching it happen in real time is so much better than what you've imagined, and if you weren't dripping before, you certainly were now.

You slip your nightgown off, slipping behind Aang to kiss along the broad expanse of his back, watching the muscles tense under your touch. Your hands reach around gently, grazing his hip bones and feeling him shudder as you trail directly to his happy trail, and downwards.

The first whimper has both you and Sokka groaning at the same time, and your hand gently wraps around the base of Aang's cock, "Spirits, you're so big. Gonna need a lot of prep to fit it in there, you willing to do that baby?" You hear their kiss break with a wet 'pop!', and Aang's response is breathy, "I can prep you so well, however you want."

"So eager to please, hm? Why don't you show us, or is the Avatar too proud to get on his knees?"

Aang drops quickly in front of Sokka, and your boyfriend looks over at you, "You too, pretty girl. Don't think just because we're showing him the ropes doesn't mean I forgot about you. Why don't you show him?" You're moving beside Aang, dropping down quickly and sticking your tongue out. Aang follows your motions, a bit unsure but eager to learn.

Sokka slaps his flushed tip against both of your tongues, and he swears he's never been harder watch Aang taste the saltiness of his precum for the first time. He glides his full length over your tongue, repeating the action to Aang, and any tension begins to slip away. It's as rhythmic as the thrumming between your legs, Sokka switching between you and Aang like it's happened before. It hasn't, but you wouldn't be mad if it kept happening after this time.

The Avatar is enjoying this much more than he thought he would, both watching Sokka's cock slide down your throat with ease and experience, and feeling Sokka begin to stretch a whole new throat, just for his use. There's a clear line dribbling from Aang's cock to the floor, and you take notice, daring to reach other and collect it on your finger. You rub it gently on the pink tip, and Aang moans around Sokka's cock.

"You wanna touch him while he sucks me off, pretty girl? Wanna give him the special treatment?" You already shuffling to lay against the carpeted floor, focusing on giving Aang's cock some much-needed attention.

Aang feels so overwhelmed in the best way possible, taking his best friends cock down his throat with you figuring out how to give enough attention to his own full length. You've managed to wrap your lips around his girth without any help, solidifying for him that there's nothing you can do that isn't sexy.

"Fuck, hah- have you done this before? Feels, mmh! Feels so good, Aang.." Aang swears he could cum right her and right now. Sokka is moaning his name, and the 'schlick-schlick' sound coming from your mouth on his cock, is matching with his noises on Sokka's. All three of you are moaning for each other, each becoming more and more turned on as it settles all at once that this is real, and everyone wants it equally as bad.

It isn't long before it builds and Aang pulls away from Sokka, attempting to pull you up, "Spirits, darling. M'Gonna cum too fast, gotta stop-"

But you don't and Sokka chuckles above him. "Wrong move, dude. That's her favorite." He proven right by your immediate surge forward, taking more of Aang's cock than before -- as much as you can, speeding your hand up along the parts that don't fit. Aang hunches over with a loud moan, knowing he won't last much longer, and you feel it when his whole body tenses. Sokka is stroking himself slowly as he watches his girlfriend swallows his best friends cum, tears in her eyes, and his best friend gripping her hair oh-so-gently to stop her from moving.

When the last drop spills, Aang takes in a deep breath of air, not even realizing he'd stopped breathing for a moment. He's had his dick sucked before, a long time ago when he tried to date his way through the feelings he had for you and Sokka. But nothing came even close to this.

"How was it, baby? Did you have fun?" Sokka asks you, and Aang has the audacity to blush after everything you've all just done. You nod your head and stand, holding a hand out to Aang. He takes it and you guide him over to your boyfriend, where you pull them both down for a sloppy kiss. It's wet, and there's a little teeth, but all three of you are so focused on sharing the taste of Aang's cum that no one notices.

You pull away first, looking at the two of them before locking in on Sokka. You're smirking as you raise a brow, gesturing towards Aang. Aang, who is still dazed in his post-orgasm state and still very, very hard. Sokka meets your smirk with one of his own before he pushes Aang over to the bed an on his back, and you walk over. Slowly, you crawl over Aang and take his heavy length in your hand, and it's still twitching, reaching for you like he never came.

"You ever had anyone ride you before?"

"What about the prep-"

"Don't care, answer my question."

"...no, not yet."

Your smile is devilish, and spirits, Aang thinks he might lose his mind as you rub your slick folds against him. It's your first bit of relief for the night, and you made sure so you could be extra sensitive, just for him.

Sokka is lining up to claim Aang's mouth again, but Aang sits up.

"Wait, wait. Before we go any further, I just... I really like you both. Maybe more than like, but I don't wanna come off to strong. I don't want this to be a one off," his grey eyes are full of worry, and you can see he's genuinely scared. Scared of having his heart shattered. It makes you and Sokka pause, "Aang, we love you too. We've known for a long time how you felt, and we've talked about it for a while. About... having you join us, if that's something you wanted. This was never a one time thing for us. We're letting the cards fall into your hands."

Sokka nods in agreement, moving to just sit next to Aang. He places his hand over Aang's, and something shifts. "You've been my best friend for a long time. That's the only part I don't want to change, I just wanna add my love for you into it. Will you let us prove our love tonight?"

He feels like he could cry. It's all he's ever wanted, and he's struggling to believe it's real. But here you and Sokka are, saying you both love him; not scared, not holding back. Just full of love, and it's all for him to take, and to give back as much as he wants. Slowly, he nods, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay with it. I wanna.. prove how much I love you both, too."

You slid back over him, but slower. Sokka kneels again, but with Aang's hand in his this time. As you sink down slowly on Aang's cock, his moan is muffled by Sokka's cock sliding back into his mouth, and he's happy.

You both love him, and he loves you both. His couldn't ask for more.

caleb is 20 when he's about to leave for the DAA. there's an air of silence around the house. you've trapped yourself in your room more often, stressing over your senior finals. at least, that's what you've been telling him.

"i'm sorry caleb, i really need to study for this test."

"oh! i totally forgot about that project i had due tonight. shit, i'm sorry caleb. we'll have another movie night soon, okay?"

he doesn't know if you're actually this busy or if you're actually ignoring him. all he does know is that he misses you. he wonders about how he could miss someone who was in the room across from him. you were so close, but so far.

when you found out he was leaving—though you had a grin on your face while congratulating him—caleb knew you were devastated. he wondered if you were secretly mad at him for leaving.

two weeks before his departure, he practically forces you to be around him. he laid down next to you like before. he stroked your hair while you napped on the couch. he teased you and picked you up so you could hit him and grab him like you used to. he always chose to put his arm around you during a movie. he dragged you by the hand all around the neighborhood. he needed to all of that again, a thousand times more.

but at 24, it seems like there may have been a wedge between the two of you. calls are more and more infrequent.

"sorry, space signal sucks," he'd type.

"sorry, i was busy with training!" you'd reply, 2 days later.

he thinks that he would do anything to go back to before. he hasn't felt you in months. he sees you only twice a year.

it's hard. it was excruciating during the first few weeks. not only was he dealing with bootcamp, but he always found himself looking to his side, thinking you'd be there with him. at night, you were there, right next to him in bed.

he imagined that you would whisper words of reassurance in his ear. you'd hold onto him like you used to, when you had nightmares, and wrap your legs between his. there were days where we stroked his necklace, wishing that it was your hand instead. what he would give to have you next to him.

all he wants is to be able to feel you again. he chastises his 10-year-old self for taking you for granted back then. he wants to feel the apples of your cheeks when he caresses your face. once,—when he was 13 (you, 11)—he did that, and he thought you had a fever the way you warmed up. if he could, caleb would build a time machine to go back to that.

caleb is 25 when he is out of your life.

he thinks about you every day. it reminds him of when he was in bootcamp five years ago. it takes him back to when he was fifteen; you were on top of him, and his brain was fried to a crisp. caleb wonders if he's always been this way, because he can recall that at ten, you were still the only thing consuming his mind.

even during his arm repairs, you're there throughout all the pain.

when you discover his metal arm, all of caleb's instincts point to the door. he's spent so long trying to hide it from you: it's the constant long-sleeves (even though they made him incredibly uncomfortable), or making sure to only touch you with his left-hand (even though he wanted to pull you in with both hands).

but he stays. because it's you.

you freeze momentarily, listening to his writhes and moans of pain. caleb only notices you're there when he feels your hands brush his shoulder. he jolts back in surprise, and he sees you looming over him.

he stammers something, not even sure of what he said because you're here. you see him. you see it.

caleb's wanted this for so long. he wanted to see you again, in a state where you were both vulnerable, like old times. however, that moment probably wouldn't have come if he doesn't confess about this, so he relays the details.

you listen attentively, eyes wide with shock as caleb goes on. your hands wrap around his metal one, and he feels nothing. it's agonizing. he sees you examine him so gently. your fingers trace over bolts and plates of metal, lightly stroking up and down his arm. and caleb feels nothing.

how often has he dreamed of this? for you to be touching him again, so intimately and softly? he's stayed up countless nights wishing for you to be here, just so he can put his arms around you in a crushing embrace, only to be incapable of feeling you on one side of his body.

you pull away from his arm, asking if the fleet was accountable. when he doesn't say anything, he feels your weight lift off the bed and go towards the door.

whatever happens next is involuntary. he uses his flesh arm to pull you back, caging you between his forearm and his chest. there's no thought to it, no rationalization. it's just you and him. and he's been deprived of this for so long.

he breathes into the crevice of your neck, and he has half a mind to place his entire face there. he wants to breathe you in after being away from you for so long. no conversations, no contact, no touching. the last time he was this close to you was years ago. he needs this, caleb thinks.

the feel of you against his bare chest is something he cannot seem to describe. it's like he's his teenage (or even kid) self again, where he seems to short-circuit whenever he comes in contact with you. you're still small compared to him, but you fit perfectly like you did a decade ago.

he lets you go after he feels you trembling. you don't hesitate to place your hands on his waist and tackle him onto the bed. you catch him off-guard as you pin him beneath you, looking straight into his eyes.

"hold me," you plead, "with your right hand."

caleb lets out a shaky breath. there are voltages of electricity flowing through him—literally and figuratively. his skin sparks alive when he feels you. will it be the same with the metal arm?

slowly, caleb raises his mechanical arm. he wraps it around you, and feels the movement of your back shift downwards. you released a breath you didn't know you were holding. caleb held his.

you wait patiently before caleb starts running his metal hand up and down your back. you watch him exhale as he continues. you press your forehead on his, and you breathe in tandem with him.

caleb is 25 when he discovers that he loves physical touch.

wow like i didn't expect this to get so long... but like here we are???

i think we need to start embracing touch-starved caleb in all of our fics. this man hasn't seen the love of his life in YEARS (infrequently, anyway) so i think once she touches him (like INTIMATELY) for the first time in years he goes a little cray.

"oh fuck…just like that.”

you halt mid step, frozen—card in your hold, heart clawing its way right up into your throat.

the sight is much more than you’d expected. he’s a much prettier sight than your imagination could've ever conjured up.

sweats pushed low and bunched on his thighs, muscled chest bare. his lashes rest against the flush dusting his cheeks, snowy strands mussed with a few damp ones sticking to his forehead. your eyes drop lower, you can't help it. to his happy trail, neatly groomed hairs that do match the drapes leading all the way down to his cock. it's shameful how fast blood rushes to your face. it's a pretty, flushed pink, a bead of precum welling at the tip as he strokes up and down, grip twisting near—

maybe…maybe you’d just wait till he finished. silently slip back into your room like you'd seen nothing at all, keeping the card till he finished. he wouldn’t mind. you shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t even be looking.

he’s jerking off and you’re just stood there like a peeping tom. gosh, you feel like a bigger pervert than he is. getting off to the sound of him is bad enough, now this?

“are you just gonna stand there?” the words come out of no where, startling you. it’s lazy sounding, a syrupy drawl tinged with amusement. like this is a normal, everyday conversation that you two have. the card slackens in your hold and your breathing ceases momentarily, mouth parting to get an excuse out, a ramble of apologies perhaps.

“you’re—oh fuck,” and he doesn’t even stop, eyes closed, head tipped to the ceiling now. his lips part around a moan, squeezing at the base of his cock on his downstroke to ebb his pleasure. pearly cream smears near the pretty bulb with he strokes upward again, thumb brushing over a vein at the side. “—fine. you’re fine! come in, I was just thinking about you.”

you do, you’re not sure why you do. maybe it’s your body working faster than your mind is, one saying yes, other saying no type thing. clear betrayal of every sensible instinct you have. your limbs are moving before the words can even settle. he grins like he knew you’d do just that, shifting floorboards giving you away.

you try not to look, you really do but it’s right there. hefty cock held in a light grip, flushed head all soft and rosy. veins pulsing proudly under flushed, shiny flesh. a cock you’ve tried (you really have) to not imagine too often. glistening with what looks like either pre or saliva (maybe both). it's stiff and heavy looking in his hand—the kind of pretty that causes a near physical ache in your chest and somewhere lower, dampness between your thighs soaking through your panties.

“you’re gonna cum to it anyway,” he murmurs, “might as well get you in here to let you see the real thing, right?” your eyes follow another pearlescent dribble from his head, eyes growing glossy. you will the dampness pooling between your thighs away, trying to focus on anything but him while actively ogling at his cock. you’re stood there like a deer in headlights, his words registering late. when they finally do, you’re all hot in the face as you glance up at his face, stumbling over words about only being here to give him his card. “huh? I don’t even…satoru, I promise you it’s not like that at all.”

“it’s not?” and then he laughs, all deep and rich, not at all helping with your situation currently.

“you just happen to play with yourself exactly when i’m getting myself off? the walls are thin, pretty. I don’t think the pillows muffle those vibrations too well.” you wonder if there’s a quick way to dig a hole to just jump into. maybe if you fake a fainting spell, he’d be nice enough to drop it so you could escape? shitty fucking amazon vibrator – the reviews were all lies.

a low, strangled noise leaves you - half startled, half mortified. trying to get a rebuttal out but your lips won’t cooperate.

satoru’s eyes open slowly, lids heavy like he’s already drunk on the pleasure. fuck, he loves this. loves the look on your face – lips parted, all stunned, no words to say to explain yourself. “haah—you’re not coming?” and god, he says it so breathily, you can’t help the instinctual clench of your thighs, nor the bob of your throat with how harsh you swallow.

“a little watching got you all needy?” he notices. of course he does. “why don’t we help each other out, hm? take your panties off. let me see how wet you got for me.”

that gives you a pause, panties in question uncomfortably damp. hot in the face with..embarrassment? arousal? most definitely arousal. maybe that more than the former. your hands are shaky as they graze the soft edges of your shorts, hooking under the elastic band of your panties.

you don’t know why you’re just listening to him. blindly following his instructions like it's law. "I...I really came to give you back the card." walking out of here and pretending this didn’t happen would be just as easy as walking in had been. but you don’t – you’ve been wanting to at least touch him for ages, depriving yourself right now wouldn’t do either of you any favors. "I was about to leave."

the plain pale gray, now turned smoky at the center falls, string of arousal connecting the fabric and your core briefly before snapping. it hits the floor in a heap with your shorts, and you press his card onto the closest surface to free both hands up.

"mm, i'm sure you were." his gaze drops and he groans at the clear glistening between your thighs, thumb swiping over his tip, hips twitching slightly as he slows his strokes.

“perfect. now c’mere, pretty.” he says again, softer this time. voice something warm and inviting.

you take a step, then a few more till you’re at the edge of the bed. his legs spread a little wider, chin angling down in a simple gesture. his strokes somehow get slower, lazier. teasing now, dragging out every wet sound, every twist of his wrist that has dribbles of his pre spilling over his knuckles. you sink down to your knees so you’re settled between his thighs, fingertips biting into the hardwood. the ache between your thighs that you'd been managing well enough makes itself known with a harsh throb, looking up at him through your lashes.

“there you are.” he croons, bringing his free hand back from gripping the sheets to brush stray hairs out your face, tipping your chin up. the pad of his thumb traces your bottom lip, slow, pressing in just slightly at the center.

“say ahh, roomie.”

And that was the story of how you met Gojo Satoru - when you were eight, and he’d been merely ten. Though he didn’t look ten—he might’ve looked even younger than you. 

White hair. Winks of dimples upon each cheek. His face was chalk-white from the make-up typical of jesters, even young ones, supposedly. 

He was drowning in a faded red and blue jester outfit that looked as if it’d been dragged through multiple shows a night. It looked far too big to have been his originally. Even through the patched-up collar, his collarbones showed, and from the too-wide sleeves; his pale, near-skeletal limbs stuck out oddly. 

His face was pretty, however, with eyes too large for his head. 

Gojo’s cheeks were sunken in, yet his smile wasn’t the slightest bit smaller. That, too, looked too large to be his. 

And you…

Crying outside the royal court, after your parents had declared you far too young to see the travelling circus. The acrobats. The sword-swallowers. And one little jester…that had gone missing during the processions. 

Though, in time, Gojo took delight in weaving in additional parts of fighting off dragons and two haunted knight armors—enraptured courts that clapped and laughed as he sang of a white-haired fool and his crying princess. He’d whisked you off your feet and made you swoon in ways a princess utterly shouldn’t - and then produced you before your horrified father, His Majesty, as the sole suitor that made you laugh. 

At least according to him.

Though one thing was true from that fairytale: Gojo had been the only person to make you laugh. The only one.

Previous jesters and palace acts wavered between confusing you with their overly long ballads, or enraging you - all because they assumed some little princess couldn’t handle humor. And maybe that was why - Gojo hadn’t underestimated you - that you’d gone right up to your father in the middle of a particularly splendid fire-breathing act, stood in the center of the lavish floor, and declared—

For Gojo to be released from the circus to become your personal jester.

As a royal jester he would be clothed, bathed, and tutored alongside you - so long as he kept you entertained with his rhymes (to which you had no doubt that he wouldn’t falter). 

Not minister nor royal guest should lay a hand on him. He was to be treated as an equal member of the court, and should have titles bestowed upon him in due time—but for now, he will grow up as your best friend. Your only.

And whilst declaring this in about as much royal haughtiness as you could have managed, you looked over at Gojo. You don’t remember for what reason. You don’t remember what you were looking for.

All you remember is that Gojo’s eyes seemed brighter in that moment, like the night’s cloak of stars. There were tears in his eyes.

And he flashed you his crooked grin.

You grinned back.

His Majesty and the advisors didn’t take long to mull over the thought before asking the circus master to name his price for the boy. And Gojo had been small then - oh-so-small - a mere waif of a boy. He was clearly the youngest amongst these adults, and the circus master hadn’t even remembered he was part of the troupe.

He’d demanded two crowns and a bag of wheat.

To which The King had obliged with a simple wave of his hand—before freeing the other circus members, as well. He was merciful…most of the time.

And you’d been so overcome with joy that you ran to the jester and took his hands then and there.

Had it been in the little passageway where you’d met, then you might even have embraced him.

But perhaps you’d given the ministers enough conniptions for the day?

“Follow me.” You breathlessly whispered to the little jester that seemed far too shocked for words. “I shall summon the royal tailor whilst you take your bath- we have every fragrance in the land, and more than enough botanical springs.”

But the longer he stayed speechless and unmoving, the more self-conscious you grew.

Your fingers loosened around his, “That…that is if you wish to-”

“I do.” He stopped you from slipping away - he clasped your hands even tighter. Tight enough to nearly hurt—but you didn’t stop him. “I-I’d be honored, Your Highness.”

“You shan’t have to call me that.”

And though a few eavesdropping court ladies and gentlemen gasped at the destruction of long-held social etiquette, Gojo had merely smiled and nodded. And then you’d been the one to whisk him away. 

You.

Gojo shared little about his upbringing that first day in the palace, and even less over the years. You knew that he’d been born into an average family just a kingdom over - Gojo itself was a fairly used name - but tragedy struck and his parents both passed away—although you never asked how, and he never shared why. It almost…seemed as if he didn’t remember. A part of him that had scrubbed out most of those years, like a bloodstain.

And he’d lived in the same lifeless home as them for five days. Trying to wake them.

No one listened.

No one arrived.

No one helped.

No one helped.

No one helped.

Driven by hunger and loneliness, Gojo finally left the house after those five days. And just his fortune, he hadn’t walked long before encountering the travelling circus—so many jugglers and jesters and acrobats and fire-breathers. And one master leading them from the front. 

He’d been both enraptured and scared.

And hungry. So…so hungry.

Even the smell of the lion food was appetizing to him. 

One acrobat passing by had spotted the boy watching wide-eyed from the side of the road, and seeing how desperate he was, shared her lunch and invited him to join. It was the biggest act of kindness he’d felt in five days.

And so he taught himself to rhyme. To joke. To smile. 

And two years later was when you saved him- you told Gojo that it wasn’t so much as saving him than him saving you. But he denied. 

“Thank you.” Gojo had whispered to you, almost fearful, during his first night in the palace. The Princess’s jester had been granted quarters right across the hallway from your own chambers—and yet, the first night was always the scariest, wasn’t it? 

He’d given you quite the fright sneaking into your royal chamber after all the candles had been snuffed and your attendants had left. Soundless as a mouse—and looking just as unwelcome inside the gilded bedroom. But eventually, you welcomed him onto the lavish mattress far too large for even two.

Let alone two children.

Laid a fair distance apart, you faced each other. 

“I forbid you to say those words again, Gojo.” You smiled. “And just for the one night, I trust?” You meant the bed-sharing; should your attendants walk upon this in the morning, then Gojo would be thrown into the dungeons faster than he can rhyme. 

Gojo nodded, somewhat flushed. “Just for the one night.”

.

.

.

“Satoru-”

“Mmmm, puff pastries and wagashi.”

“Satoru.”

“Huh? Ohhh, sweet cheesecake.”

“Sato—” The exasperated call of his name doesn’t land before the kick does - square in the middle of Gojo Satoru’s broad back. 

Sometime in the last few years, after he’d taken up training with General Yaga to keep himself fit for his dances, Gojo had started sleeping without his upper garments on. 

And you couldn’t deny that it was a sight for sore eyes; his sun-freckled sun, the dips and curves of his muscles shifting as he did. The roundness of his deltoids. The sensual curve of his spine. The patterns of his scapulae, and lash marks that he wouldn’t explain. They moved like waves of an ocean, and they peaked and fell just as much. Some mornings you dared to trace every single one—just with your eyes, of course. 

But of course, he was just your best friend - socially, your jester, at that.

Which is exactly why you’re kicking him off the bed the second you hear your morning attendants heading down the corridor. As soon as he’s out of sight, the double doors to your bedroom open—and they’re floating inside with steaming-hot trays of breakfast and new fragrances for your skin. 

One of the attendants sets the breakfast tray down on your bedside table, and you sneak him a few of the blueberry-spotted pancakes. Though have to slap Gojo’s hand away from swiping the syrup, too, before one of them sees.

“Such a beautiful day, isn’t it, Your Highness?” Your head attendant, Utahime, trills as she throws the curtains open to let soft morning sunlight flood inside. “The perfect morning.”

“It is.” You’re nodding. You slap Gojo’s hand away from the syrup again.

“And we have no more than an hour to get you ready, Your Highness. So I beg you to finish your tea quickly.” Another attendant hands you your morning tea - just how you liked it. It smelled of something floral that reminded you of the royal gardens, and something else so utterly appetizing that you could feel Gojo huffin’ and puffing about beneath you.

Served him right for sneaking in again, you think.

You slap Gojo’s hand away again. Utahime continues speaking onwards obliviously, “—prepare for the guest.”

“A guest?” That piques your interest. 

This time, Gojo steals the syrup. And it creates a loud clatter that draws the attention of all the attendants sweeping and scurrying about to pick out your gown for the day—you’re unceremoniously coughing to cover it up. You’re not sure it works.

Utahime crinkles her nose, “Nasty little ailment, isn’t it?” Her intelligent eyes dip down to the bed - though she keeps it discreet. Utahime, as well as being your head attendant, was one of your closest friends as well. 

Close to you in age, you’d hand-picked her to be what was essentially your right-hand woman. 

And she knew of the rather…close friendship that you and Gojo had; perhaps improper for court etiquette, but just right for the two of you. 

From underneath the bed, Gojo snickers. 

You bounce on the mattress, whilst Utahime kicks the bed post. 

“Ah…this ancient bed.” You’re commenting once the other attendants look at you with raised brows, “Honestly, sometimes I believe it to be haunted.”

“Wake up to a mysterious figure at your bedside, do you?” Utahime eyes you. You avert your gaze from hers. “Well, we should do well to rid your chambers of that before the Prince arrives, Your Highness.”

“The Prince?”

“Prince Zenin Naoya, of course.”

Gojo knocks his head on the bed frame. 

.

.

.

Prince Zenin Naoya possessed many titles; the latest one being the most unpleasant royal you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Which was saying rather a lot.

You’ve met many a-princess that were appalling to her attendants, and many princes that boasted their numerous wars. Your father himself fell into the latter group. And many, many more dukes and duchesses and marquis—and whatever other title had surfaced over the last few centuries and gotten latched-onto with rabid, golden-ringed claws. Had it not been for your duty to maintain a peaceful political climate, you would have forgone those social gatherings altogether.

Though your father was particularly careful not to repeat the border strife that had occurred not too long ago in your kingdom…some violence-seeped dispute over power. 

And so you lifted your head and plastered a smile.

You managed to clamor through even the most painful of social obligations.

But this one…this one might just force you to rewrite all the royal rules that had been drilled into you since you were younger. 

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” You nod in acknowledgement as the Prince bows. His coronet was made of pure gold; a simple band with a blood-red ruby in the middle. 

It flashed at you menacingly.

And so did his pearly-white smile. 

“The pleasure is all yours, Your Highness.” 

You’re taken aback at his choice of words. You meet Gojo’s eyes a little ways away from the court- and his read the same confusion. He shakes his head imperceptibly. Then Naoya turns to the King seated on the throne beside you instead. His smile leers, “My utmost gratitude for this invitation, Your Majesty. My parents send their regards.”

“Good people, good people.” Your father nods, “Their assistance during…those times of trouble shall forever remain in my memory.”

“Who are we if not united against the face of the radicals, Your Majesty?” Naoya graciously bows once more. 

“Well said.” And then the King makes a sweeping gesture in your direction. “And in the future, it seems we shall be united once more.”

Naoya throws his gaze at you again, and the way he looks at you…it makes you hug your arms to yourself.

You’re unsure why your gaze had been upon Gojo at that very moment - they always did seem to find him - but you watch as his expression darkens. Darkens. Darkens. In a way you’ve never seen before, and then it’s hitting you—

“Father?”

But he ignores you, “Satoru—!” In the years that you’ve brought Gojo to court, your father had become rather fond of his rhymes and riddles as much as you were. So it wasn’t exactly surprising that he had been called upon, and Gojo’s expression switches instantly into one of foolish mirth. “Why don’t you share one of your amusing rhymes with our guest?”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” He bows deeply. As he makes his way to the middle of the court, where Naoya and his entourage were gathered, the bells upon his blue-and-white garments jingle. 

And before you know it, Gojo clasps onto Naoya’s shoulders and ensnares him with his words. “Naoya o’ Naoya, with your great riches and gait.” The corners of his lips twitch - something sharp. Gojo covers his mouth in a faux-whisper, though his words reach every single corner of the vast chamber. “Every lady here knows you take potions to compensate~”

Naoya’s face turns green then red. A furious red.

As if fearing the Prince would swing, Gojo jumps back- just in time for the hay-blond man to whirl around. “But oh, no potion shall make Prince Naoya’s rooster big—the most you ladies get will be the size of a fig~”

The jester laughs maniacally, and so does much of the court; you yourself can’t stop from letting out a startled laugh or two. 

Your best friend never did hold back - perhaps because he was the only one allowed to do so without fearing the threat of the dungeons. 

And Gojo watches as a giggle slips past the hand you’d brought up to cover your mouth- and his grin widens as he takes it as a challenge. Dancing around Naoya, he continues—

“Naoya is hated by the ladies of the court. Naoya is hated in his medical reports~” He trills gleefully, darting a hand out and knocking Naoya’s coronet off. “And all the ladies and all the healers, have never seen a cock this short~”

Red face now turning almost…a sickly yellow, Naoya attempts to fist-fight the jester. Though Gojo was far more agile than he looked, and he was dodging each hit with ease.

“Oh—have I offended you, Your Highness? Perhaps a change of pace…” Gojo crows. “For all Naoya hates women, he might as well court men-”

“You- you—”

“Easy, son.” Your father chuckles to himself as well, “You should do good to familiarize yourself with the Princess’s jester if you are to marry her.”

Gojo stutters- and his rhyme pauses. His eyes widen.

You feel the red, red carpet give out beneath you. 

.

.

.

“I simply must…apologize for Sato- my jester, Your Highness.” 

The clinking of silverware fortunately masked the waver in your tone. It was insincere and unapologetic.

Naoya maintains an expression as if he’d just smelled something unpleasant, perhaps as if it was on his very plate. The Prince cuts into his bird with far too much force than necessary, “Apology accepted.” Rather short.

Though you yourself didn’t care—you shoot a look at the ministers that were currently attempting to meld into the royal portraits on the wall. 

With nervous smiles, they urge you to continue.

It was a poor imitation of a romantic dinner - as romantic as a political marriage could get. 

The royal dining room had a table that sprawled nearly from one end-to-end. Polished mahogany. Intricately-carved legs. So thick that they didn’t buckle under the hundreds of dishes piled on top: soups to puddings to heart-shaped wagashi to those you couldn’t even name. Woven in-between were flickering candles and vases of red, red roses—sprouting confessions of love. 

Some of those petals were even scattered across the floor.

Though the dining room could seat about four-hundred guests, right now it only seated him and you. You and your future husband.

Your future husband.

Your future husband.

Your future husband.

It still hadn’t sunk in, and you didn’t want it to.

Zenin Naoya takes a bite of his roasted bird and spits it back out. From his entourage, one of the Zenin ministers darts out with a dish to collect it.

You wrinkle your nose in distaste.

Two courts were watching this fallacy of courtship. 

From your side, it was the entirety of your court save for some of the outer ladies-in-waiting and some gents, and your parents. From his side, it was Naoya’s entire entourage at his every beck, call, and swallow. Just waiting for the opportunity that their beloved Prince didn’t like anything.

Which seemed to be…everything.

You yourself can only pick at the delicacies on your plate - they’d done well to include favorites of both you and His Highness. And yet…

And yet, in the past eighteen years you’ve never sat through a dinner without Gojo at your side. 

Always at your right-hand seat. Always chomping through his dinner with overexaggerated noises that made you laugh, and the ministers grimace.

How could you feel so alone surrounded by so many people, and yet lacking one?

You’re biting back a sigh.

“Pssst.”

Confused, you look up at Naoya- but he seems just as morbidly indulgent in his food as he was before. He was spitting out even more. 

And so you look around—but none of the ministers nor advisors catch your eye, either.

“Psssssst.”

There it was again. Somewhat irritated and feeling your confusion growing - this dinner certainly hadn’t put you in a good mood - you’re about to excuse yourself from this social hostage-situation. Someone must be attempting to make a fool out of you. You’re resting your hands on the polished table and about to push off—

When you feel something…touch your wrist.

You’re about to scream-

“Tamper your screaming, please.” 

Oh, well if they asked so nicely…

Wait-

Who?

Without making too much of a spectacle, you slide your fork off the edge of the table. 

Naoya grumbles at the metallic ringing—and muttering a dainty apology, you’re leaning down to pick it up. Or so it seems. 

Instead, you’re crouching yourself down and lifting the tablecloth ever-so-slightly. It’s a purple velvet, one of the finest in the land, and it opens up to reveal one of the greatest treasures this palace held. At least, in your opinion.

Gojo Satoru brings a finger up to his lips and winks. His make-up crinkling handsomely as he did so, “Do you frequent these parts?”

“I should ask the same from you.” You hiss, glancing around to make sure that no one was looking. “Satoru, what do you think you’re doing-”

“Exercising my culinary skills, my princess.” And he raises up a little velvet packet in one hand, shaking it around tantalizingly. He answers your question before you can voice it, “Just a little horseshoe, just a little wool from Yaga’s sweater, and perhaps the Prince that swallows this shall be a little sweeter~”

Your jaw drops. “You cannot be serious-”

“Never in my life have I been more serious.” Gojo replies solemnly, then with an innocent flutter of his lashes- “Forgive me for not sharing, my princess. But perhaps you would favor it as well?”

“It shan’t suit my palate.” You answer firmly.

“It’s far more palatable than what I did to the wine, trust me.” Gojo smirks.

“You rouge.”

He opens his mouth as if to say something more, but Naoya’s tone grates through the little bubble of mirth you’d formed—in less than a minute, no less. “Wife- wife.”

You and Gojo stare at one another in shock.

Wife?

One of your ministers coughs pointedly, and with a final glance at Gojo, you’re straightening in your chair. “Were you perhaps addressing…me, Your Highness?” And any smart man would have quickly backtracked at this opportunity to change their answer. 

But you never claimed that Zenin Naoya was particularly smart. “My eyes don’t perceive any other woman here?” He scoffs, taking a bite of a chicken leg and then immediately spitting it out—“As for the engagement plans- eugh.”

You’re biting back a laugh as he drags out a string - seemingly from a wool…sweater…of Yaga’s - from his mouth and looks at his ministers in bewilderment. 

“Th-the chef must have been in a state of pioneering.” You cough out.

Another bite he takes.

And another wad of wool he spits out. 

You bring a hand up to your lips, “Perhaps you should wash it down with the wine, Your Highness? It had been brewed specifically for this occasion.”

And so he does - eyeing you all the while.

Naoya takes a big swig of his goblet and—shrieks as he finds half of a shoe inside. 

One of Gojo’s very own.

That shriek is loud enough to make the walls of the dining chamber rattle; and Gojo shoots out from the side of the dining table, unable to keep his laughter in control, and dances away. “Twiddle dee, twiddle doo—Naoya coughed up a shoe~” Those double doors are still swinging as it sinks in what just happened- and your ministers and guards take a menacing step towards where the colorful intruder had disappeared. 

You raise your hand to signal them to halt.

“This insolent—” Naoya was spitting with fury- unable to even formulate words. His mouth is a downturned slash, and he shoves the plate off the table. It shatters vociferously.

You notice that he’s turned a little green in the way he only seemed to do when Gojo was nearby. “My first order as King shall be to rid this incompetent kitchen-” He spits. “-and that godforsaken jester-”

Your fork clatters to the floor once again. “What’s wrong with Satoru?” You didn’t care if you sounded rather too offended by such a question. “Is it the practical jokes? I shall request that he ceases such-”

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” Naoya cackles to himself. “Woman, what is there not wrong about that goddamn fool? He’s- he’s—a fool.”

“For that is his duty, is it not?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“I suppose.” Naoya leans back in his chair, “But his duty is to the crown, and when I am King-”

“His duty is to me.” Before you know it, you’re standing. You’re breathing hard. You’re ignoring the ministers that attempt to hold you back. “He’s my best fri—jester.”

And you repeat…though you don’t know whether it’s more for yourself, Naoya, or the boy with the blue eyes that was once underneath the table.

“He’s mine.”

Those words fall like the blade of a guillotine. 

Naoya’s eyes were spitting fire. “He’s…yours, is it?” He throws his cape back and stands, “Your Highness…I fail to understand why you entangle yourself with a mere jester?” Though the sentence itself wasn’t one particularly barbed, his distaste bled through every syllable. 

“He- he is my best friend-”

“He is a jester.” Naoya says with a tone of finality. He pushes back, letting the chair clutter behind him- the brings up a palm to stop his ministers from righting it. “And a jester can never be anything to a princess. Never.”

Those footsteps of his resound louder than your heartbeat. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

On the way to making his exit, he stops before the entrance and speaks. “We are to be engaged in six moons, and when you are my wife, I expect you to act like one.” Naoya’s gaze is deadly as he grips the door open, “My family earned our titles bringing down entire households- a mere jester is nothing to me.”

Another guillotine: this time, it’s the closing of the dining room doors.

“Your Highness-”

But you’re following Naoya out, and tears burn behind your eyes.

Just as luck - or perhaps fate - would have it, who else had been standing behind the doors listening to every word? None other than Gojo Satoru. 

Though his face is downturned, and you can’t make out his expression, your heart soars at the sight of him. He’s pressed against one of the walls closest to the doors, and he clenches his fists at his sides. And you’re just about to reach out- to tell him that Naoya’s words didn’t matter- to tell him that Naoya didn’t matter—

But before you could, Gojo sharply turns to you and bows. Those bells atop his hat jingle as he does so, and he stays bowed as he asks, “This fool begs to be dismissed, Your Highness?”

Your Highness? “You…you may…” Your brows furrow, fingers trembling towards him. “But Satoru-”

And yet, he’s gone.

And you didn’t get a single look at his expression.

You wondered what you would see. You wondered what you would be hoping to see.

But no matter what it was, you knew that all you wanted to see - whether anger or mirth or irritation - was Gojo himself. 

Your engagement was in six moons.

.

.

.

To your dismay, Gojo Satoru was avoiding you.

You should have realized that something was off that moment after the disastrous dinner—or perhaps when he didn’t join you to sleep, or perhaps when he hadn’t joined court in the following days. According to one of the palace staff, the jester was ill, but every attempt at a visit to his quarters ended up with you being rebuffed or diverted.

And how many opportunities for diversion there were.

The palace was a-flush with florists, and bakers, and candle-makers, and mask-designers—and orchestras upon orchestras practising for your engagement waltz. 

One of those times you’d been dragged away to floral-picking for the grand engagement ball - the one that would announce your union to the entire kingdom. Another time it had been to pose for a portrait with Naoya (a particularly taxing endeavour). And another time it was to pick out the colors for your mask- this was to be an extravagant masquerade ball after all. And another time it had been to get fitted for the ballgown you’d be wearing for the night—like exactly right now.

This time, you’d gotten just past the guards stationed upon either side of Gojo’s chambers (both on his word, and to prevent the Princess from getting into any…scandalous affairs before the engagement).

And you’d cracked open the door - ever-so-slightly - only to find that what was inside…made you halt.

Gojo’s room was completely and utterly empty.

Not just of himself, but of his literature books, his shoes, his bells, his flower vases. Anything and everything that made the chamber so utterly Gojo’s, was gone. Even the braid of friendship you wove for him when you were twelve - that he kept at the very top of his jewelry box - and the flower crowns you made for him that he dried and hung from his windows—you made them rather often, before…Naoya. 

He had intruded upon your idle dance between love and friendship - and you were still feeling bitter and confused as Utahime fitted you. As she wound up the hip springs of your corset- and tightened, and tightened—

“I just fail- hah, fail to understand.” You’re muttering, slightly out-of-breath.

Utahime looks up from the knots of your corset, “Your Highness?”

The royal tailor had just stepped out to aid in bringing the imported silk and cloth of gold up to your bed chambers, and in the meantime your attendants were helping tighten your numerous layers underneath. Your ballgown - engagement dress, more precisely - would be fitted on top of the base linen undergarments and the crinolines. 

Tonight, you will be engaged.

And to a man that has never made you laugh once-

“Your Highness?” Utahime repeats, snapping you out of your little reverie.

“Oh- forgive me.” You nod at her in acknowledgment. “What I meant to say was, I just fail to understand what he’s thinking.”

She nods back - you didn’t have to specify who. “It is precisely as I have told you, Your Highness.” Utahime tightens a few more knots- knocks a few more breaths out of you. “That ol’ nuisance has not a single thought in his mind. You must not worry yourself too much about him.”

“Oh, but Utahime…how can I not?” You’re sure the flurry of other attendants surrounding you were listening in - smoothing down your layers, preparing your jewelry. But you didn’t care at the moment, if you did say so yourself. 

“I believe it is just a little ailment, Your Highness. I fear I am not blessed enough for such a thing to prove fatal to that jester-”

You gulp. “I believe Satoru may be avoiding me.”

At that, even Utahime’s brows furrow. “Pardon?”

“His chambers have been emptied of even the flower crowns, and I haven’t even the faintest glimpse of him these past few days.” Speaking these words aloud seems to make them too real. “I believe I told you of how he overheard the conversation between Naoya and I?”

Utahime nods.

“Naoya had uttered some things- balderdash, if you ask me—” Your fists threaten to clench, but two attendants were working on your nails. Another was double-checking the measurements for your mask. Mask. “Yet I fear Satoru may have misconstrued some things…and I haven’t laid eyes on him ever since.”

There’s a silence.

Her fingers finish their final knot.

And then Utahime stands to look you squarely in the eyes. “This is Gojo Satoru we speak of, is it not?”

Slowly, unsure of where this was going, you nod.

“Then you have naught to worry about, Your Highness.” She flashes you such a beautiful smile, looking over your corset for imperfections - of course, there were none. “It is most likely that he’s skulking about these palace walls, looking for a minister to scare or a prince to embarrass.”

You’re letting out a soft huff of laughter.

“Or even…a princess to adore.”

Your eyes widen- and you’re snapping your gaze to hers. There’s a knowing expression that Utahime wears - one she often gets whenever she notices Gojo hiding in your room, or watches the two of you sneak out during royal balls. 

This one, in particular, was about to be the most crowded and convoluted yet. 

And you’re meeting her smile, eventually. “I thank you, Utahime…” You then look down as you hear the doors of the dressing room fly open, “But adoration cannot stop a royal engagement.”

Three sharp claps sound as the tailor gets the attention of your attendants. 

“That will be all, ladies. Thank you.” And his own attendants and apprentices flood the room to take over the fitting stage—Utahime squeezes your shoulder as she leaves.

Though she doesn’t reach her bed chambers for a much-needed rest, as she might have wanted to. Instead, she’s halting right outside the entrance-

“You.”

And making sure you were occupied by the tailoring, Gojo bows dramatically. Holding his little bells so they don’t jingle- “At your service, Madam Sour-face.”

“Cease it.”

“No, I said Sour-face-”

“Forget it.” Utahime could feel a migraine coming on already at the mere sight of his impish grin. 

“Sour-face Utahime with her pressure so high, one more joke and she’ll make me cry~”

Why - oh why - couldn’t the universe take as kindly to her and forbid her from seeing this man, too? She continues, “First, enlighten me as to why you’ve been giving Her Highness the cut?”

A too-innocent expression crosses his face. “Pardon? I fear I have no recollection of ever-”

“I will kill you with my bare hands and feel no ounce of guilt.”

Gojo clicks his jaw shut.

“I…” And it’s under the pressure of her unwavering glare that he finally cracks- letting out a deep sigh and dropping his head. “I plan to leave the palace.”

“Pardon?” Even she sounds utterly shocked. “When-”

“Tonight.” Gojo has never sounded more serious to her. “I have spent the past few days gathering my possessions, everything…she gifted me. As the ball starts tonight, I shall take my leave.”

“But your duties-”

“I have informed His Majesty of my decision. It seems though he shall miss the rhymes, he is keen for an amicable marriage between Her Highness and Prince Naoya. A jester can be replaced, trust in a marriage cannot—especially not one of political nature.” Utahime is almost shocked at this simple foresight, but then again- everyone always did underestimate the fool.

She watches his reaction, “And…the Princess?”

Which seems to make him flinch - as though struck. Perhaps a part of him was. “…I shall leave her a letter before I depart. Her Highness does not deserve to see such cowardice-”

“And yet you still remain.” Utahime’s words make his blue eyes snap to hers. She crosses her arms in front of her, and lets a smug smile take over her lips. “For what reason were you spying outside Her Highness’s fitting, if not to see her?”

“I—” He takes a desperate step closer. “It was simply in passing-”

“For what reason did you empty your bedroom of the flower crowns Her Highness made especially for you? Surely they shan’t prove themselves too useful on the road?”

Gojo’s eyes widened. “I…the memories-”

“For what reason have you waited until the last minute to leave? Until the last minute she shall not be yours, and yours only?”

He snarls, “She was never mine.”

“Because you believe the Princess does not deserve to base herself- being the lover of a fool yes?” When Gojo does not answer, she continues. “The fool seems to believe he knows what the Princess deserves. But does the fool know what he deserves?”

There’s a prolonged silence—of which is only punctured by the awed gasps from inside the dressing room, as the tailor and his apprentices comment on your beauty.

Gojo has the sudden, mad thought to open those doors just a little wider and see you for himself. Just one last time.

One last time.

What was he thinking?

He laughs to himself bitterly, “A jester can never be anything to a princess. Never.” 

“But a princess can be everything to a jester, yes?” Utahime asks. “More importantly- who are we to dictate what a person is to another person?”

The answer was as obvious as it was painful.

Gojo Satoru loved you. 

Loves you.

Something of it must show on his face, because Utahime throws him a pitiful look she’s never shared before—“You may leave if you please, I shan’t stop you.” And then she reaches out and presses a hand against the doors- they part, unlocked. “But if you wish to stay and stop acting a-fool…then follow me.”

She brushes past him.

Meanwhile Gojo looks inside and catches a glimpse of you - and he’s never seen anything more beautiful. 

He runs after Utahime, bells jingling.

.

.

.

“You look…”

“How odd.”

“How startling.”

“What a change!”

Utahime crinkles her nose, “The only thing this proves is that your face is more tolerable when it is covered.” She turns to the brown-haired woman next to her, “And that my Shoko is a goddess when it comes to handiwork.”

Shoko smiles sweetly, “I have much practice making death masks.”

“I’ll say.”

As the other few attendants pendulate between laughing to themselves, and admiring Shoko’s quick work - she’d been requested just a few hours before to make a mask befitting a royal ball, and she’d finished it just in time - Gojo leans closer to the mirror. 

He reaches his trembling fingers up to touch his face, “This is surely…me?”

“Unfortunately.” Utahime sighs, and she gets elbowed by Miwa.

Utahime had gathered the most trust-worthy attendants she led: Miwa, Momo, and Kugisaki from tailoring. Along with the impeccable royal healer, Shoko, who she knew would be the only one that would be able to create a mask for the ball with her expert hands. And they’d gotten to work fixing up perhaps their most difficult case yet—none other than Gojo Satoru.

The royal jester was rather fussy at first- insisting that the powder puffs and cloth wipes tickled. 

Before Utahime put her foot down and announced that they weren’t going to present a ‘half-assed’ (forgive her language) marriage-wrecker to the Princess just yet.

That reminder of you kept him quiet for the rest of the make-over.

And Kugisaki had even commented, “Perhaps we ought to invoke the Princess’s name every time we need to keep the jester in line?”

“Do not tempt me.” Utahime had replied. 

Gojo had shuddered.

But it really was true: he sat through the rest of the next hour or two without so much as a single rhyme or peep. 

Not even when they told him to ‘pucker up’ in order to douse him in rouges and lip stains. That likely saved five years from Utahime’s life…

Gojo himself helped them scrub off his stark-white jester’s make-up. The vampiric base. The teardrops of black paint. The red, red lips—a few of his little troupe openly stared as they’d never seen the Princess’s jester without his make-up. 

And Gojo himself knew that he wasn’t all that bad looking - he had noble features. A strong nose. A high set of cheekbones. A pert, pretty mouth that always looked to be on the verge of saying something he shouldn’t.

Or, at least, that was how you described him.

You were the only person that got to see Gojo without his court-deemed make-up; and you always did say he was handsome. To which he’d always bat his long, white lashes dramatically and compose you a sappy sonnet about your eyes. He supposes he knew he was decent, but…handsome? 

He never saw it.

But these girls seemed determined to make him.

Cloudy hair. Delicate features. Blue eyes like a painting.

They replaced his make-up with something simpler. Gone was the cast of white, instead replaced by just a bit of rouge and shimmer. His pale brows were tamed and so was his hair - braided to the side using fragrant rose oils, with a few pieces falling handsomely over his face. All thanks to Momo, of course. 

Kugisaki had dug up something from that ol’ tailor’s trunk—a snow-white cloak and doublet, along with the associated tights he often made fun of. It was a suit fit for a prince. 

And it was exactly the type of suit he’d made fun of a prince for.

But here he was now - not a single difference between him and them. Or at least physically.

Gojo’s training sessions with Yaga had kept him fit; and he fit the suit perfectly. His broad shoulders were outlined against the clean cut, and his trim waist fit snugly into those damn tights—even through the suit, it was obvious he was well-built, in a way those baggy jester’s outfits never did show. Polished shoes. Silver buttons. Silver belt. Heavy silver chains and pendants that arrived with the robes. 

He might even have passed for a battle-hardened Prince like this…

Momo helped him into his equally as white gloves - it seems they were sticking to a theme for him. All the better to help his eyes and his crown stand out.

Oh yes…the girls had somehow bribed Yaga into letting them sneak down to the royal treasure. For just a few minutes.

All the spoils of war and generations of wealth—and they’d come out with a crown. 

It was Utahime who’d dug this one out, deciding that that would make him stand out far more than the usual hats. 

Made of pure silver; the design itself was rather simple, or so it seemed at first. Only when one looked closer…when one ventured further…could you see that what seemed like a simple band was actually a wreath of silver branches and floral vines twisted into one, with sapphire-studded flowers blooming along it. One more thing had been taken from the treasury - a signet ring with a ‘G’. 

“It felt proper.” Miwa, who had found the ring, beamed. “Names and titles are lost to time. And though I may not know what the ‘G’ once stood for, at least for tonight, it can mean ‘Gojo’, can it not?”

Gojo felt it getting slid onto his left hand, and he stares at the ring with furrowed brows.

He stares and stares.

He’s never felt more worthy of you.

By the time they had finished, the strings of the orchestra had started playing their opening sequence - the ball was commencing. 

Utahime turns to the rest of them, “We have done well.” Then, ultimately, back to grumble at him. “…You have done well.”

And though Gojo could make up a rhyme to rile her up, though Gojo could comment that they could have done better and bask in the ensuing chaos, though he could do his mask and his mask—

He simply looks at each and every one and smiles. Sincerely. “Thank you.”

They smile tenderly back.

The final component of his outfit for your engagement ball was the mask. Though there was no set theme, Shoko had gone above and beyond to craft his in the shape of the upper-half of a snow leopard’s face. The feline gaze. The sharp ears. The faint outline of rosettes against the white mask. It was mastery. 

Gojo dons it and smiles to himself. He really did feel handsome, as you had always said.

His blue, blue eyes twinkle from behind the mask.

.

.

.

“You look absolutely riveting, Your Highness.”

“I thank you.”

This was a royal ball that looked gilded. There was no other word to describe it—gilded. 

Polished floors. A thrumming orchestra. Golden chandeliers had every single candle lit; and they crept halfway down to the ballroom floor as if gifted from the Sun itself. Just for you. 

And that was in addition to the numerous other decorations that made even the most high-titled of guests gape in awe: the shimmering fountains that looked as if they were sprouting liquid gold, golden-dipped gardenias wreathed around the hallway, and the long table of foods were most lovely. All sorts of sweets and champagnes in honor of the union.

Guests upon guests upon guests being announced as they entered. They were dressed to impress, and there were more aristocrats gathered for this one ball than you’d seen in your entire life, perhaps. 

Had Gojo been here with you, then you two would’ve had the most amusing time coming up with stories for each one. 

There was Sir Gakuganji who held a secret liking for abstract dancing, here was Lord Todo whose son had fallen in love with a thousand-year-old portrait. No one would be spared. The two of you would have tucked yourself into some alcove and watched as the lavishments flew by, and when everyone was appropriately drunk you’d sneak out to the stables or to star-gaze. 

Your heart clenches.

Satoru…

You attempt to shake your head free of him.

It most certainly was a beautiful ball. And if you imagined that this was one of no particular purpose, then you really could see it. 

The ball was decorated to match your dress, you see.

Floor-length silk. Gold-threaded bodice. 

Celestial layers upon layers.

Your uppermost skirts had gold dusting atop it; and they dazzled as you floated across the ballroom. 

Your attendants had decided that going for a more simple look with the jewelry was appropriate - it would accentuate the simple gold circlet atop your head. A single sapphire embedded into the middle of it. 

Naoya had sneered at the choice, of course. When doesn’t he? But this time, he was particularly offended at the presence of a sapphire rather than the Zenin family’s signature blood-red rubies.

You refused to make your attendants change it. You donned your cat-like mask with pride. 

Perhaps that’s why he seemed keen on ignoring you in favor of a group of other beautiful court ladies in attendance—though you honestly couldn’t imagine anything different happening had the two of you been married, as well. You sighed inwardly.

You’re nodding in acknowledgement as Prince Okkotsu Yuta nears with a man beside him. 

He looked older - about your father’s age, if not a few years older. Tall. Toned - in the way of someone that had one been corded with muscle, but had since lost it to age. Bearing an ice-white beard and a row of silver medals proudly lining his chest—he stands before you in his off-white uniform and bows. It was obvious that the man was rather handsome, drawing eyes from around the ballroom. 

But what catches your eye the most were his eyes.

Summer-sky blue eyes.

They reminded you of—

“My uncle, Michizane, Your Highness.” Yuta introduces him. “This is his first time in the palace since…”

Your voice drops into something hushed. “I understand.” Turning to the general, you’re half-bowing once more. “I am rejoiced to welcome you into my home, any troubles that we may have had in the past-”

“Have naught to do with the present, Your Highness.” Michizane graciously nods at you. “And most certainly have naught to do with the beloved princess.”

You manage a smile.

“And if you can excuse my being so impudent…it is precisely what I sought this occasion for, Your Highness.” He looks over the bustling crowd, now getting ready to waltz- and seemingly catches the eye of your father. Your father who now looked as though he’d just seen a walking dead man. “I hope to bury the misunderstandings between my family and your father, and understand what happened to my younger brother and his family. It had proved itself to be both a blessing and a curse that I had been on an excursion during those troubled times. And I seek a resolution for the sake of my inner peace, if nothing else.”

You’re nodding in agreement. “It is most tragic what happened. For the sake of borders…nothing is worth so much. And I cannot ask for your mercy enough-”

“It is not something I shall ever be able to forgive. But you are not at fault, dear princess.” Michizane smiles conclusively, but not unkindly. 

“And yet, I have been wracked with guilt ever since.” You ultimately reply. 

Though you hadn’t met Michizane previously, you had learned that the history between your families was a long and bloody one. His family had been of a royal bloodline, of kingdoms now lost and eviscerated into neighboring ones - including yours. And you knew it was partly the fault of your kingdom. And although royal tutors justified and justified away your father’s actions—you could see past them

“Perhaps…” Michizane is the one to break through your whirlwind of thoughts. He reaches his gloved hand out, a silver signet ring on his middle finger. “-a dance to commence the burying of our animosity?”

“But of course.”

As the orchestra starts up a lively tune, Michizane whisks you away onto the dance floor. Much to the horror of some of your elderly ministers, of course, who gaped at the mere presence of the man.

And at the fact that your first dance wasn’t with the Prince.

But laughter bubbles to your throat as Michizane twirls and swirls you—sways you smoothly around and around the dance floor. He was one of the best dancers you’ve ever encountered, and you’re smiling appreciatively at him once the song comes to a close.

From the corner of your vision, you spot the black-and-red-clad Naoya storming his way over to you. And you hurry to beg a second dance when-

A title is announced - louder than all the rest. 

A prince.

Prince…you don’t hear the name.

But you don’t need it. 

Because you’re looking up at the grand staircase from which guests made their entrance, hand-in-hand with their partners or followed by their entourages. This one had neither. This one was one of the most beautiful men you think you’ve ever seen.

He looked like something from a story.

Snow-white mask. Snow-white suit. He was tall and clearly toned - but there was something in his demeanor that made him seem almost…dainty. He gripped the balustrade of the landing and looked over the glistening ball- barely even breathing, it seemed like. And he looked content to remain there in awe, before the chief butler reading out the named coughs- pointedly.

The man startles.

He looks over at the chief butler, and then nods jerkily to himself. In self-assurance.

Cautiously, he makes his way down to the ball.

And the closer he gets, the more of his details you’re taking in: like the traces of signature silver on his suit, and the way his fingers trembled ever-so-slightly. 

He looked just like the princes you’d read about in fairytales - the ones you imagined as a child before you happened to meet a real-life prince. 

Curls of white could be seen behind that snow leopard mask of his. They contrasted oh-so-beautifully with the blue, blue sapphire atop his crown.

Just like his eyes.

Your breath hitches-

“I believe I may have been monopolizing you, Your Highness.” Michizane whispers as the Prince nears. 

“Pardon?” You look at him- but he merely smiles.

Before you know it, the mysterious guest has neared enough to give the two of you a jerky bow. His tone tremors ever-so-slightly as he asks, “P-permission for the next dance, Your Highness?”

Michizane nods at you reassuringly. 

“I would be delighted.” You breathe, and then he’s taking your hand in his—gently. A touch even softer than the fabric of his tender, tender gloves. 

“I bid you a good evening, Your Highnesses.” Michizane tips his hat, “And do take care of the lovely princess…” Before turning to the younger man…his brows furrow the longer he looks-

But a lady-in-waiting taps Michizane’s arm for a dance—and he’s made to turn away. 

And you’re left alone.

With him.

Naoya stuck with some other lady-in-waiting as you put your hand…tentatively on the other man’s right shoulder. He lets out a shaky breath, as if your mere touch was replenishing his soul—and he doesn’t move away. Then you let your second hand get grasped - gently - in his own. 

Backward with your right foot.

Sideways with your left foot.

Backwards.

Sideways.

Backwards.

Sideways. 

It’s halfway into the song, pressed closed to his thundering chest, that you finally break the silence. “The crown suits you…Satoru.”

Gojo flinches, “You discovered-”

“You did not seriously think you could fool me?” You smile. He mirrors it- albeit sheepishly. “Gojo Satoru, how could I possibly be gulled? You have been my dearest friend since I was eight-”

He twirls you in the middle of the ballroom.

And you continue. “-and the one I hold closest to heart.” Looking deep into his blue, blue eyes.

Gojo sighs, “Words cannot describe how beautiful you are, my princess. The least this fool can do is but dress to impress.”

“You look particularly dashing this evening as well, Satoru. You always do.” Surprise makes his lips part—and you’re leaning in. Though they do not touch, you hear gasps from the onlookers. “You look like a Prince.”

“And you look like my dreams.”

The two of you dance for a second song, and a third, and a fourth. Without letting Naoya gain any entryway between you two - that non-existent space - you two dance the night away—dizzy with nothing but the proximity.

The realization that you could be so…close as long as no one found out. That you couldn’t be closer.

That you could.

That you needed to.

By the time that most of the guests had well and thoroughly indulged themselves in the bubbling champagne and wine, the clock had struck midnight—and you and Gojo disappear into the night once no one’s looking. Through the small passageway where the two of you had first met, then up a few flights of staircases, breathless and giddy, you’re lucky there were no guards stationed outside your bed chambers as the ball raged on.

And you’re opening the door and falling into the vast bed with him.

Your hands on his lapels. His hands on your waist.

You’re both letting out synchronized grunts as your back hits the springy mattress, and Gojo’s letting out a scorching breath that fans your face. That sets your skin searing.

“We ought not to…” You whisper- and then you’re pressing your lips down his neck. Illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the windows.

“I am of the same thought.” He responds, in an equally hushed tone - as if anything louder would shatter this fragile dream. It most certainly must be a dream, yes? This was all you’ve ever wanted- and him. “And yet—”

And yet, Gojo places a hand on the back of your neck, and guides your mouth to his. 

He kisses you loooong and deep- and inexperienced. You both are.

You’re chuckling as you tug his lips open with yours - letting Gojo’s sultry tongue slide inside your wet cavern. He drags his tastebuds inside and moans—

And after kissing you and kissing you as if starved for eons—

Until your lips were buzzing.

Until his hot hips were crushing into yours.

—you let your fingers fall to his silver buttons. Rapidly undoing them.

“My princess.” The jester wrenches deep from his chest - guttural and gone. There was a crazed hint in his tone already. “Allow me…”

And before you know it, he guides your hips to rest back on the king-sized mattress. Sapphire eyes boring deeply into yours- Gojo hands you his crown to hold, as he hovers himself down and unravels the first few layers of your gown. 

His fingers are quick- nimble.

And it takes him far shorter an amount of time to rid you down to your undergarments than it takes your careful attendants. Desperate. Depraved. Soon enough, you’re feeling goosebumps prickle across your skin at the bite of cold midnight air; your chemise and undergarments were much too thin.

And soaked. 

Utterly, utterly soaked. 

But Gojo’s face flushes - almost hard enough to warm your skin through sheer proximity. He admires your sopping cunt through your panties, he leans down and presses his nose right where your clit would be. And then he sniffs—

“Fuck.”

He almost jolts. Reaching in and tearing through your undergarments with his teeth. 

“Fuh-fuck.”

The noise that expels from him is almost unbidden- and its primal tone is enough to make your toes curl. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, he stares at your swollen folds. He stares at your glossy slit. 

He stares and stares as slick beads out of you in a pretty stream—and before Gojo’s own mind seems to register, he’s muffling a hot moan between your naked legs. Immediately shoving himself nose-deep.

His chin thwacks! the top of your sopping slit, and his tongue wastes no time darting inwards. 

Your entrance is so wet that he has no trouble easin’ his thick muscle inside- despite its impressive girth. And then immediately zig-zagging his sensual inches fucking in—aaaaaaall along your walls and driving the curvaceous tip of his tongue into every little ridge and cranny. Fat. Trembling with need. 

“Yes, my princess.” Gojo’s managing between husky breaths- each scorched out against where you were most sensitive. “Yes, my princess-”

“S-Satoru—” Your hand’s reaching down to twist your fingers into his snow-white locks. 

You’re giving him a particularly hard pull and he groans-

“My princess…” That ocean gaze of his is half-lidded and hypnotized, flickering right up to bore into your eyes as he gluttonously propels his tongue even deeper. “I cannot live if I do not make you mine.”

Your feet plant on either side of his shoulders- a steadfast pedestal. For you to buck your hips and shove your drivelling cunt against his mouth, “Then what deters you, jester?”

Gojo’s chuckle is dark and deepened with lust. “Nothing, Your Highness.”

He’s moving his tongue in and out of your hole at such a frenzy. 

This was the night of your royal engagement, and you’re here getting eaten out by your jester—

“Does it vex you that this lowborn jester has finally gotten his hands on the princess’s pretty pussy?” He gurgles out into your arching core, the wads of your sap slipping between his lips—and then back out as he licks. “Perhaps not you…but surely those godforsaken ministers that must have hoped for a more…royal touch….”

And licks and licks and licks—“Y-you keep running that mouth, Sato-”

“Jester, remember?” He grins. “Pray tell, Your Highness, am I the first?”

He must know the answer. He surely must- he’s been at your side for the past eighteen years…and you yourself were aware that you were his first, too. 

Yet you find your lips moving before your mind does. And you whimper, “Y-yes…”

“Pardon, my princess?”

“Yes-”

Gojo drags the doughy patches of his fingertips across your clit.

“Then you grant this lowly fool the deepest and most precious honor.”

It was an honor. 

An honor to eat your pretty core—to press his puckered lips against your folds in such a sensual kiss- one that would make even the most scandalous of court ladies faint. To part those tender pussylips and dive his tongue inside- every single inch that thrusts away at a vigorous pace. Stuffing you from the hilt of his tastebuds, to that flexible tip that swirled to n’ fro- 

Gojo had his face pressed up so closely - so deeeeep - that parts of his features were rubbin’ red. Covered in slick. Dripping with it. 

And yet he was only scouring deeper- deeper- fucking deeper until your pelvis was crushed against his hungry maw. Crushed. “And this fool is grateful- so very, utterly grateful.” His tastebuds were going in nearly till those sweetened soft spots you loved so much in those solitary moments in the privacy of your baths, yet he flares his tongue till he’s stretchin’ you out even more. “I shall do anything for you, my princess- anything—I live to serve you-”

Gojo’s honed canines nip at your clit.

“And this pussy.”

And serving you, he is. 

With every fibre of his being. With every part of him that could reach you—he’s eating you out like such an animal, as if he was going fucking frenzied on your cunt. 

The tip of his nose massaging your clit. That left hand of his fastening to your waist and dragging you right back n’ forth even deeper. 

“And th-this fool deserves not such a privilege-” He whispers, mostly to himself. Though his wide, lust-glazed eyes maintain contact with yours, “This fool deserves nothing. And yet…yet, I care not if they happened to enter this chamber right now- I would gladly get thrown in the gallows for this greed, for a second taste.” 

Wide-eyed - almost crazed - he tugs his wet tongue uuuuup the middle of your slit, and almost up to your navel. “In fact, I beg of it.”

And his other hand…

Oh, Gojo’s other set of fingers smear the puddle of slick that spreads from your core- all along your inner thighs and making its way down your calves. He collects it all.

Every single drop.

And then, like the most precious of mead, he brings those wettened fingertips up to his mouth and sucks. Savors. Gojo’s eyes flutter closed and his Adam’s apple bobs with ecstasy - “She tastes like she yearns for more.” 

“You understand?” You’re asking, half-bemused.

“I speak seven languages, Your Highness.” Gojo replies, “One of which is pussy—” Then with his flattened tongue, he laps up the rest of the satiny ribbons escaping you- before flicking his eyes to the mountain of pillows piled behind you. “My princess, might I request that you procure a little treasure I have left underneath your favorite pillow?”

“A little treasure…?” Almost dazed, you reach underneath and your fist closes around something soft and bell-decorated. One of his jester’s hats. 

“A long, long night beside the princess left this poor fool forgetting—the hat bestowed upon me by the princess, I should be getting~” Gojo trills- whilst he still lavishes his heated, horny lips across your swollen cunt. “But if the princess puts it upon my head, she can be as pushy- as she wishes as I eat this royal pussy~”

Your jester is speaking rhymes between your legs?

“Oh, sometimes your mouth is overworked.” You’re harrumphing at the overjoyed jester - once you’re unceremoniously dumping the cap n’ bell onto Gojo’s head.

Grinning, he bites down on the expensive tip of his right glove and tugs it off. 

He makes quick work fastening that behind his ears, before nudging your hands to grasp onto the floppy ‘ears’ on top. Your sole source of balance as he leans in and eases one of his long fingers inside- then two—then teasin’ a third.

As he shovels in oblong inches into your sopping cunt, pushin’ apart your tender folds and letting his padded tips find their way inside. And inside.

In and out.

“Please-” You breathe heavily as he quickens the pace after a few squelching thrusts. His middle finger was the longest, and it was spreading you apart the deepest—fuck, it was just so soft inside. So welcoming. So tight that you were clenchin’ around him almost hard enough to make his poor digits snap- and the mere thought makes Gojo hard enough in his trousers that he wants to cream them right away-

You’re clamoring onto your elbows suddenly, “Y-you cannot be serious, Satoru…”

Oh, had he said that out loud? It seems he’d said that out loud. And yet, without even a hint of regret in his grin- Gojo hums. “A jester shan’t ever lie to his princess.” Those kiss-bitten lips of his purse with a wad of spittle that lands gently between your pussylips, “Or his pussy.”

“Your pussy?” You ask- before the breath’s suddenly knocked out of you as he starts driving a third finger in this time. Properly.

Stretching you out to the maaaaaximum. 

The globular ends of his fingers edging in, in, in—he doesn’t just remain pistoning them vertically. Gojo’s rude in the sense that he’s hooking them right below where you needed him the most.

Throbbing, thumping; your g-spot was most certainly aching for him.

But that was exactly the problem- and Gojo’s smile grows wicked as he keeps thrusting his three fingers into your cunt. “J-just the slightest bit…fuck, to the left, jester.”

“If the princess may still utter a sentence, then this poor jester must go harder on her entrance~” He croons. Swabbin’ into every good spot except for that one - your favorite - he suckles on your sensitive nub. “What deters you from claiming what you seek, hm? Use me, Your Highness.”

Your teary eyes snap open. When had you even closed them? “Use?”

“Use me.” Less of a demand- more of a live-saving plea. Gojo was so far gone by this point that his hardened hips were ruttin’ against the luxurious mattress with every swipe of his tongue, “Claim what you wish. Use me- use me—”

And as he wishes, you’re lightly tugging on the points of his jester hat to keep him pressed against you-

But that wasn’t enough for him.

“I beg of you—this lowly fool begs…” As his right hand shapes out the tight, tight channel of your cunt - Gojo reaches his other hand up to grasp your own- to make you clutch his cap n’ bells even tighter. Hard enough for his fingernails to leave marks- and he needs you to be just as rough. “Fucking use me like the princess you are. The princess that saved me.” 

He ruts even more suddenly- he must be painfully hard now. 

“Claim my lips. Claim my tongue- claim every fibre of my being to be used by you…” A low snarl snatches from the back of his throat. “-just claim me as yours, as I have claimed you, my princess.”

And then you’re knocking that stupid little hat off his head- and fisting your hands in his hair once more to crush Gojo’s pretty, pink lips against your cunt. Arching off the mattress, you were just bucking and bucking your treacly pussy all over his face.

Stringing yourself through the shockwaves of pleasure that kept pouring up your legs - like warm water. Gojo was just salivating in-between them.

He doesn’t even have the time to breathe—and you’re getting the distinct feeling that he didn’t want to. Couldn’t even make himself think of anything else but dragging four - now four - fingers between those swollen-shut lips and thud-thud-thudding into your g-spot. “Good princess.” He hisses between clenched teeth, “Gooooood princess-”

“Keep quiet, jester.” You’re feeling yourself get slowly overcome by primal desperation. 

“As you wish, mistress~” And Gojo’s never been happier- lashing and lashing those ridged tastebuds inside until your walls buzzed with the texture. “Mmmm.”

And soon enough, you’re feeling your legs start to twitch- in the way they did whenever you had your fingers stuffed deep in the baths- “Oh.” By this point, Gojo was aiming to intrude four fingers and his slippery tongue between your pussylips. 

Swirlin’ and swirlin’ it—tap-tap-tapping it over that first tight ring of muscle. 

His greed sickened you- and made you even wetter. And with a forceful tug of those angelic strands of his, you’re staring deep into Gojo’s eyes - fluttering desperately as he fights not to detach himself with your wet pussy. He doesn’t.

And he’s accelerating his fingers hitting the bullseye—

“I-I feel I shan’t last very long, Sato- jester.” You’re hissing, eyes threatening to shut as the white-hot pleasure keeps wracking through you.

With his spit-glossed lips wrapped around your clit, he hums. “Mmm?”

“Oh.” You hunch into him. “Repeat that.”

“Mmmmm—” Gojo elongates his nearly-feline rumbles, and then his lips quirk up- into a grin you recognize as being a signature of when he gets a devious idea. 

One sure to ruin courts and leave you amused - though you’re sure that you’re the sole one being ruined right now. 

He’s nuzzling his face ever-deeper against your cunt, then muffles out an entire sentence - what you assume to be a rhyme - whilst he keeps his mouth sucklin’ on your clit. Making the sensitive bursts of pleasure explode twofold behind your eyes- you’re seeing stars as he repeats it—again, and again, and again and again and again—

Gojo often did love repeating a joke if it managed to make you laugh exceptionally hard.

However, now you were all but crying out for mercy. Your chin trembles as you keen out Gojo’s name in a lingering echo, “I-I really shan’t- oh…” No matter how many years of royal diction or elocution you’ve endured, it couldn’t mask the way your voice cracks on the tail end of your sentence. 

Almost pathetically so.

And soon enough, Gojo’s finding his witty mouth stuffed full- fucking you through your high.

Tongue flicking in and out. Teeth grazing over your clit. 

He alternates between letting his tastebuds enter your pussy as well—and then letting his doughy digit take over as he suckles on your clit. Like the sweetest thing in the world. “Mmmm.” Repeating his little rhymes over and over- interrupted only by the noisy slurps! of him sucking on your nub- and the embarrassing little whimpers as he was wrenched by you.

Side-to-side. Up and down.

You’re moving him wheeeeeerever you wanted- and he was in heaven as pain sears from his scalp.

You grip onto his braid, and another lock of his hair, as handlebars to prolong your wave of pleasure. The bliss stabs through you white-hot as he presses deeeep into your g-spot. “I haven’t felt anything like this- hah, before, Satoru…”

“Your jester aims to please.”

Your orgasm makes you shiver. It rattles past your walls - where the pounding was most prevalent - and then up your spine to make your head pound with pleasure—the curling of your toes, the fluttering of your lashes, the way you’re letting escape the sweetest soft moans; sweeter than any orchestra downstairs. Gojo memorizes it all. 

Through peak after peak.

Through thrust after thrust.

And as the crescendo comes to a close, he parts with your pussy—a pointed squelch! emanates from the connection. “Though the back of this Princess’s pussy I did knock, Her Royal Highness still yearns for the jester’s cock~”

Your mouth gapes, “Do not tell me that was the rhyme you have been repeating this entire time?”

“As you wish, I shan’t.” He grins. And then Gojo’s raising himself to his haunches- shrugging off his cloaks and his coats. “Perhaps another? From all the princes and lords to pick, our beloved Princess yearned for the jester’s di-”

“Another word and you shall be turned out.” You warn him, albeit half-heartedly.

“Now that doesn’t rhyme, Your Highness.” Gojo faux-pouts. With a few more tugs and pulls - he really didn’t understand how you aristocrats wore this on every occasion - he’s ridding himself of his upper garments and his trousers. 

Though you’ve seen the royal jester shirtless time and time again, his perfectly-toned body made your eyes bulge. 

And then finally the linen undergarments that presented him—Gojo Satoru’s long cock, hot and rock-hard.

He was engorged till he looked fit to burst - with his mushroom-curved tip blushin’ an angry red, and his veins popping out down his shaft. So prominent that you could almost count every throb-throb-throb!

Gojo’s tip glistens wetly with precum, capping the top of his cock and just oozing like a lacquer down every inch. Almost eight inches, if you’re mentally counting correctly. 

He wraps a single hand around his thickened base- rustling the soft curls decorating his pelvis. Spreading out in an alluring pattern—Gojo then uses his other hand to nudge your thighs apart. Hamstrings stretching. Toes curling. Making sure they’re pinned to the springy mattress before he inches his red-hot cock closer. 

There’s a resounding squeeeeelch! as he smears the very first, readied inch down your opening crevice. 

“Easy there, Your Highness.” Gojo’s breath hatches with a moan. “Easy- hah…”

“I am no steed, Satoru.”

“You speak the truth, my princess.” He shoots you a ravishing smile- hungry. He really did look ready to eat you. Ready to shovel his entire length in.

Ready to break—himself. Fuck.

He was breaking himself. 

A mere few inches are entering past that first ring of muscle-

And you’re arching your back into his chiselled chest. “Oh h-heavens…” It leaves you and mixes with the broken grunts n’ gruffs that were leaving Gojo just as equally, just as desperately, as he keeps your hips pushed into the bed and siiiiinks his cylindrical length inside. 

It’s like nothing your royal tutors had lectured you upon - down to the fact that all those awkward anatomical lessons were for your wedding night with a prince, no less. 

You feel a pearl of red escape you—and you embrace him with weakened limbs. “Satoru-”

“H-heaven is correct.” Gojo hiccups out. Was he still stuck on that you’d uttered earlier- had he even heard anything more? And were there…tears twinkling at the edges of his lashes? 

Before you can finalize an answer, you’re mewling at the slight resistance of your cunt. Gojo’s cock was oh-so-girthy—more than you might have expected, and seemed to be throbbing even bigger with every second he was mazin’ himself inside you.

And he feels the shift immediately- he’s affected by it immediately.

His handsome jaw grits. His chest caves with a sudden groan. He turns his half-lidded eyes downwards, and using both overlarge hands he grips each of your asscheeks. 

Those pretty, princely features of his twist into something agonized- as Gojo arches his sculptured back and drives his cock inside. “Please-” Your best friend pants out. “Please, please, please, please—h-haven’t I served you well, Your Highness?”

“You would be correct…?” You’re answering him- head foggy because of the sudden flurry of semi-thrusts.

In and out. In and out. He was buried just a few inches past his sensitive slit - and the small tremors of your cunt meant that he was thrown to ecstacy every few split-seconds. 

Gojo seemed to be growing longer than you remembered seeing him.

Gojo seemed to be pulsing even thicker-

“Th-then…shan’t this lowly fool be rewarded with a single inch…?” He mumbles- sounding utterly drunk. And it wasn’t just his slurring tone and his tapering sentences that gave you that impression - but Gojo had his face pressed into the crook of your neck, and his hot tongue gliiiiiding up your sweaty neck. “A mere inch, my princess-”

You buck- and even that seemed far too much for the pussydrunken jester.

For he’s digging his crescent-shaped nails into your soft flesh and dragging you back into him - hitting his hips with a resounding thwack! “No- no, please don’t leave, Your Highness.” He begs—fucking begs. 

“I-I am not—oh.” Another blustering thrust that leaves your deepest innards probed.

“If you wish me to cease- then just say the word. And I shall heed every syllable.” Gojo murmurs, his sapphire eyes threatening to shut with the hypnotic squeeze. With his pure need. With the urge to feel himself from the outside- and considering how big he was, he’s sure he’d manage to. “But please- please, do not leave me. Th-this pussy has been my deepest, darkest desire ever for f-far too long.”

Your eyes widen, “How long…exactly?”

Those plump, rose-pink lips of his graze yours as soft as a feather. “Ever since I knew what it was…and I woke up with quite the ah- rock-hard situation. I had never left your chamber faster, Your Highness- what if the attendants witnessed it?”

You moan as one of his hands lifts off your ass to thumb aside your sultry pussylips. Lovingly full.

“What if they were aware how feverishly I desired you?”

They were just glued with sap- it makes him break off a moan.

“What if- hngh, what if they could see through me—a lowborn mutt- eager to dirty the precious princess?”

Gojo stares so long and lovingly at your slightly-ajar cunt—so lovingly, that his mouth ends up watering. He continues, “To dirty you…to corrupt you.” A stream of spittle leaks from the corner of his lips, and it ends up dapplin’ over your folds. 

“To- hah, fuck you.”

Your jester roves his hips closer - smearing the translucent liquid using his hips. Aaaaaaall over as he nudges and nudges his rounded, reddened tip deeper inside - taking over your cunt little by little. 

Stars flash behind your eyelids, and in that opportunity, Gojo had reached over to take the crown that he’d donned for the ball. Your engagement ball. And he was promptly caressing the top of your scalp with it, placing it atop your beautiful head—you suited his colors. 

Gojo lets out something that sounded more like a prayer: “To fuck you with the crown on, has always been this fool’s most embarrassing wish.”

He’s finally bottoming out.

Finally. And it’s a sensation like none other. 

Gojo’s cock was stretching you out in ways you’ve never felt before; managing to mold your channel to his measurements. And his hammers were just so sensual—slow, semi-thrusts so that he can fit himself inside. “Please-” Inside and inside. “Please, please- this lowly jester knows every secret and preference of yours, my princess.”

Your heels are digging into the gorgeous dimples at the base of his spine. “Yes, oh…”

“Every- single- inch—” And you’re being propelled in short jerks upwards- those ancient royal bedsprings protesting. As much as you were begging for more. Your hands drag down his creamy-white back, leaving bloodied marks- and that only leaves him pulsating even harder inside you. Gojo’s blossomed tip had contentedly filled you up till your cervix - “In ways those ministers would- hah, wring my neck over.”

“I would never let them.” You’re spitting out.

“And yet…” Gojo leans down to whisper. “That only made this fool yearn for it- more-” A few more pressurized thrusts, and every prominent vein of his massages your spots oh-so-perfectly. As he pushes n’ pushes he continues babbling, “Please let it fit inside-” His lips tremble with a whimper. “Please let it fit inside—”

Shock strangles your words, “S-Satoru, you’re already inside.”

“P-pardon?” He almost stutters his hips - before he likely realized that your syrupy-sweet cunt was far too heavenly for him to merely linger. And he’s thrusting away like an animal. 

Nodding, “Satoru, I promise—” Eyes scrunching together at the incredible sensations of him stretchin’ you out, hitting into your every nook, letting his velvety tip glide across your tenderest area - that g-spot. “You’ve succeeded your fantasy.” Your legs tighten around his slender waist, “Promise.”

Gojo’s chin hits his chest.

And he’s staring down at where the two of you glossily connect—“O-oh…” Gojo’s mouth looked so delicious like this - you almost wanted to bite him - as an expression of cute surprise takes over him.

And all of a sudden, it’s as if he’s simply melting…

Into your arms. Into your cunt. Gojo’s honey-dipped tip probes into your cervix, and instead of even ramming away - he’s merely draaaaagging and swirlin’ the bulbous edge of him around. Again and agaaaaain. The texture of his flared ridge was something incredible, and it knocks n’ grinds against hidden spots of nerves. “I finally have you, Your Highness.”

You’re feeling your heart pound at his confession - oh-so-tender. Even when he was fucking you deep into the plush mattress.

“You have never not, my jester.” You’re admitting back up at him.

The most beautiful smile graces his face- and Gojo’s feeling quite unfairly about all this. So he’s slitherin’ his right hand between your legs and spankin’ your neglected clit.

Those slight brushes of his bushy happy trail weren’t enough—now he was twiddling and turning such dizzying patterns atop that sweet, sweet nub. Watching your every minute expression, he hums. “Beautiful through anger, happiness and shock, yet the Princess looks prettiest on my cock~”

“You fiend.” You’re swatting his chest.

Only for him to gather up those weak legs of yours and bend you into a mating press- a mating press. Muscular thighs against your thighs. Your knees against your tits.

Gojo keeps his forehead pressed against yours as he drills away, “Though this lowly fool may be poor with the manners of a pig, aren’t you happy to have a cock that’s actually big~?”

And that…you have to admit that that one actually draws a laugh out of you.

And just as soon as the bubbling noise emerges from your lips- 

Gojo’s body seems to collapse. His hips seem to falter. His cock thunks at the back of your womb, sending your teeth chattering, and lets out a throb-throb so hard that you feel it louder than your own heartbeat.

Your eyes shoot open, “S-Satoru…?”

“I-I am quite alright, Your Highness. Naught to worry about.” Though there was something thoughtful behind his eyes, “It is simply…”

And only after a few more thrusts—after a few more rub-a-dubs of his thumb…fingers now so jittery on your cunt that he’s teasin’ you with his silver signet ring, too.

The smooth metal makes you keen-

“For all the horses and all the men, could not pull the fool out of his princess again.” He near-tentatively utters. It could be heard only slightly above the smacking of skin-on-skin, of his hips practically plastered onto yours, and you can’t help it - you’re startled into a laugh.

“P-pardon?” You speak through both moan n’ giggles. 

“Oh…” Meanwhile, Gojo was absolutely shattering. He was drooling. He was—fuck, he was tearing up. And great globules of tears were hitting the edge of your shoulder.

Gojo’s rubbin’ himself raw- he’s wracking his brain a mile a minute just for a new verse to come up with. 

Something that will make you laugh.

Something that will make you squeeze your tremoring thighs ‘round him. 

Something that will make you clench—and it’s such a startling, tight sensation that damn-near sends him hurtling straight into his high. But he can’t cum before you - of course, he can’t. What good jester possibly ever could? Before his princess no less?

Gojo accelerates his hips until tears start clinging onto his long lashes, and his cocktip starts twitchin’ out of pure oversensitivity.

And so he keeps on repeating—rhyme after rhyme, botched whimper after whimper. Each one more ragged than the last. Your jester was making you whine with laughter as he fucked you- whispering in your ear in aaaaaall the dirty ways one perhaps shouldn’t to a princess.

He fucks you like an animal. 

It’s the final note you’re hearing - ‘—no prettier princess than thee.’ - as your sudden high takes you by surprise. Legs shaking. Back arching. You’re squeezing him tighter than ever as the white-hot pleasure courses through you.

Thrumming your every vessel and vein.

Thrusted deeper into you with every one of his- they seem to burst pretty fireworks inside your now-emptied head. Nothing but lust inside it.

And it doesn’t take much for Gojo to topple into his orgasm, as well. He shakes- he stutters…“C-cumming…” Breathlessly. Large tears were puddlin’ at the crook of your neck, dampening your skin more than your perspiration. “And I cannot think of a more appropriate home.”

“Should you sire an heir, they shall have your head.” You’re whispering to him - a smile on your face.

“But you forevermore have my heart.”

“Rake.”

“For you only, my princess.”

That bawling divot atop his shaft keeps floodin’ out a constant stream of cum—hot-white and lacquering your insides. Every single burst of cum made him twitch- letting out the prettiest erotic whines. “My princess—solely for you.” 

“More.” You murmur gutturally. “More- more.”

“More…deep inside.” Lovingly, he’s patting at your bloated pussy. “Just for my princess.”

Until your walls were almost heavy with the condensation of his sap, and after only a few thrusts of his shaft- it was pouring out of you almost like a waterfall. 

Between the crevice of your puffy pussylips, you feel it drip-drip-dripping out of you. Eventually formulating a little froth of creamy white ‘round Gojo’s swollen base - a few globules that he’s smearing with a thumb and pushing right back into you. A thumb stuck right between your folds. “A-and where do you believe you are putting your hands, Satoru?”

“Simply giving my princess everything she deserves…” He leans down to nibble on your soft ear lobe. “And right on her engagement night, as well.”

You’re moaning as he tugs on your clit a few more times.

“Happy engagement, Your Highness.” The jester speaks, as he fucks his cum into you harder than ever. 

You end up babbling for a few minutes longer, before the sudden sparks of your high start bating- and Gojo himself starts finally slowing his hips down. 

“Mmmm…” You reach up and clasp him by the back of his neck, sweaty, with his hair curled at the name. You whisper into his mouth, “My greatest pleasure, to be engaged to you, Prince Gojo Satoru.”

There’s a long stretch of silence - still thrusting - before he mutters. 

“I really do wish I could marry you…” Summer sky-blue eyes shuttering into the kiss—

“Satoru.”

“—my princess.”

.

.

.

“Zenin Naoya.”

The young man whirls around - and his nose crinkles in distaste as an older man enters the royal guests’ quarters. 

No union had been announced.

The engagement ball had long since ended, and you had even long since disappeared with some prince- some jester, as he had discovered through ballroom gossip. 

The fucking jester.

Naoya knew he should have gutted him after that dinner.

But alas, once he arrived outside your royal bed chambers to finish off the job- he’d been blocked by your personal guards from entering. That damned General Yaga had threatened that a single step closer could constitute an attempt at treason- treason? 

Accusing him of treason? Did he not know who Naoya was?

General Yaga hadn’t budged. And thus, Naoya had no choice left but to retire to his own guest’s quarters. 

Alone and angry until morning arrived. 

He had just settled with the thought of enacting his own taste of justice today- he shall lure some of the ministers to your bed chambers, perhaps falsifying an ailment you’d befallen under, before Gojo can escape. And once they discover that that lowborn jester had sullied the Princess- dungeons it is for the fool.

And oh-so-generous Prince Zenin Naoya shall agree to marry even a ruined maiden. 

Then comes the crown. Then the titles, the land, the power.

The woman shan’t be too bothersome, either, at least you were easy on the eyes. Even if the jester had gotten his hands on you first.

And ah…perhaps he shall throw out this court and your father along with it? That’s if he was in a good mood - and it was the original plan, after all…

Or perhaps he shall stage a coup of which your father had ‘led’ and enact justice as King- yes…a royal hanging should seem righteous enough. The jester shall be first. 

This was justice. 

Naoya had just been in the middle of writing a letter to inform his father of this change of plans, when a knock-knock-knock thundered from the door. The broad, bearded man on the other side of it hadn’t waited for him to answer before coming inside. 

“May I…help you?” He stands. Had this seemed like any old guard or minister, then Naoya would not have hesitated to draw his sword- but this was clearly someone of high status. Of numerous battle accomplishments.

And his eyes dip down to the silver scabbard at his waist…

This was clearly someone potent.

“I have arrived with a proposition.” The bearded man invites himself to sit down on the very chair that Naoya had been at work at.

Naoya’s eyes narrow, “Of what kind? Do I look like an errand boy to-”

“Of the kind I am aware your family is quite expert at.” Those words held such a dark weight to them—and he doesn’t take his eyes off of the Prince for a single second as he utters. “To be frank, I must request the ah…removal of Prince Okkotsu Yuta from the throne.”

That makes the royal straighten. “Find yourself a common mercenary-”

THUNK—!

From underneath his coat, the visitor pulls out a hefty bag - so large that Naoya wonders just how it had remained obscured for this long. There is a weight to it that makes the polished desk rattle, papers flying. There is an overabundance of its contents—so that the burlap rim threatens to burst open.

Naoya gulps as he eyes the - albeit alluring - bag. “D-do you believe the Kingdom of Zenins to have plummeted so far that we hold the need for a single sack of gold?”

The other man chuckles, “Gold?”

And with a single flick at the rim—it’s opening to reveal…sapphires.

A miniature mountain of it.

Such a rare beauty. Naoya had never seen so many in all the treasuries he’d ransacked combined - and his hand it darting out to grasp it—

“This is, of course…merely the advance.” The man places his hand on top of the bag, and slides it discreetly away from the Prince. His fingers twitch towards it, but Naoya can’t do anything with the other man here. “Trust me when I claim that your kingdom will have no shortage of sapphires for the next hundred years. I simply request that you prove your abilities to me.”

That snaps the Prince out of his constant eye-contact with the expensive bag. “Prove?”

His now-client nods. “Prove it. I should hope that the eradication of Prince Yuta shan’t prove too daunting- and for that, I wish to know what other…deeds you have accomplished, Your Highness.”

“The burning of the Inumaki kingdom’s crops.” Naoya immediately blurts out—before he lists off his family’s proud accomplishments as though he was listing off a market list. The other man nods with an unreadable expression. “The…displacement of the Cursed rubies, the demotion of the Ijichi household, the framing and eradication of the Gojo family-”

“Oh?” At that last one, he looks more alert. “Kindly elaborate on that final one, it seems to have ah…piqued my interest.”

Naoya hesitates- before a single glance at the sapphire sack makes him talk once more. “It was prior to my birth, thus the details might not be as adequate. Essentially what happened had to be done- the Gojo royals were advancing their economy in leaps and bounds—far too rapidly, far too soon.”

As he continues, an almost proud smile twitches at his lips. 

“It was ingenious- really.” He hums, “Just a few forged letters, just a single meeting with His Majesty-” Naoya gestures vaguely at this palace. “And he became convinced that the Gojos were planning battle over the borders.”

Naoya spits.

“Borders? Pah- what borders?” He’s pacing now, hands clasped behind his back—back turning to the other man as the Prince stares into the licking fireplace. “Come dawn, the palace was painted in red. Ministers. Mongrels. That King and Queen- the cowards begged for mercy, were you aware?”

Silence stretches.

It seems like an eon passes before the man’s answering - in a rough tone that punctures the silence. “I…I was not aware, no.”

Naoya huffs out haughty laughter.

“And what of their son?”

The Prince looks at the other man over his shoulder, brows pinched in confusion. “They had no son.”

“No.” The sword is pulled out of his scabbard. “They hid Gojo Satoru well.” 

It embeds deeply in the junction between Naoya’s shoulder and his neck—and his scream is silent. Expression twisted into shock as those final words registered - Gojo Satoru. Even in death, he hears his name. 

Much louder than Naoya’s scream was the impact of his cold, dead body hitting the carpeted floor - and almost instantly, Prince Okkotsu Yuta enters the chambers. “I have recorded the confession, uncle, and the troops are storming the Zenin palace as we speak.”

“Good.” Michizane pulls his sword out and watches as blood creates a painting across the brick fireplace and floor. He wipes it off using what would have been Prince Naoya’s engagement robes, and places it back in his scabbard. 

Yuta takes a step closer to offer a clean wipe to his uncle, “Should I summon a court meeting at once?”

“No.” Michizane takes it and dabs at the beads of sweat on his forehead. Then he nods at Yuta to collect the bag of precious sapphires, “I have a far more important affair to attend to.”

.

.

.

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK—!

Both you and Gojo startle awake- and a single glance at the floor-to-ceiling windows reveals sunlight filtering in. A soft breeze rustles the sheer curtains…and Gojo’s beautiful locks right beside you.

It wasn’t the first time that you were waking up next to him.

But it was the first time it was…in such a manner.

You’re tugging on the satin blanket- of which you were wearing nothing underneath. Bare. Barely holding yourself back from him. And Gojo smiles to himself as the thought seems to occur to him, as well, reaching over to kiss you—before wincing at the red, red nail marks that twinged with movement. 

You’re leaning in as well—

But then two things occur to you:

It must have been at least midday.

Someone was at the door.

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK—!

More insistent this time.

The two of you look at each other.

Then at the door.

Then at each other.

Gojo jumps to his feet, throwing off the blankets and attempting to dive underneath your bed- but you’re raising a hand to stop him. Shaking your head imperceptibly. “No…”

“My princess?” Gojo asks.

“I believe there comes a time where one must stop running.” You’re speaking, more to yourself. And in a quick fashion you cross the room to don your satin robe—Gojo manages to bunch up a few blankets that cover his bits. You shake your head and scour for one of his casual night garments from underneath your bed - throwing it at his head.

“For all the princess in the land-”

“Oh, perhaps I ought to hand you to the guards.” The guards that were surely outside. Perhaps waiting to accuse you of treason for shattering the Zenin union. Perhaps ready to embarrass you and your jester in front of the royal courts.

Whatever it shall be - whatever the price may be for loving Gojo Satoru - you’re raising your head high and taking it like a ruler. 

You open the doors, and outside stands…

Michizane?

He looks just as startled as you, though he manages out a rough smile. “May I see the ring?” 

You’re unsure what he means—and you’re considering telling your guards to escort him away, when Michizane peers inside your bedroom and locks eyes with Gojo. Gojo who seems to startle the instant that blue, blue gaze meets his. Perhaps…

And then he’s stepping forwards- pushing the door open ever-so-slightly further open.

And presenting his left hand - with the silver signet ring still upon it. A hollowed gasp leaves the older man, and he’s clasping Gojo’s hand in his own trembling, timid ones—holding it as though it was the most prized treasure in this world. Buried for eons. 

Gojo’s voice sounds scratchy, “I-it is not my possession to don-”

Michizane shakes his head. 

“I believe…” He looks between the two of you, bright eyes twinkling with tears. “-that there is much we need to speak of.”

.

.

.

There was to be a royal wedding.

There was to be a royal wedding.

There was to be a royal wedding.

The union between yourself and the long-lost prince of the Gojo kingdom. 

After Michizane had explained to you both - let alone an astounded court - that he was the uncle of your beloved jester, that he was titled royalty, and that Gojo himself…was the sole survivor of a gruesome attack that the Zenin family had orchestrated…Gojo didn’t believe it. Not at first.

Not that someone knew his life before this life.

Not that someone had come to…save him. Because Michizane didn’t - to Gojo, it had been you. And it forevermore shall be.

But you could see the fearful hope - almost unwelcome on his face - as Michizane explained that he hadn’t known about the status of the Gojo heir, his nephew, before the engagement ball. He was so young, he must have forced himself to forget such a traumatic ordeal. Thus, it had always been assumed that he had perished along with his brother and his wife—though Michizane couldn’t find a small body amongst the carnage. 

And so he had always hoped…always, always…

And it had been the signet ring (looted by the Zenins and gifted to your father, no doubt) that roused his suspicions. Then those eyes. That hair. That smile, like his mother’s.

It had to have been him.

Fearing such an attack, had the late Gojo royals not kept the birth of their son a secret, then his features would have gotten him poisoned before he even stepped foot into the royal court. The cap n’ bells masked more than one would think. 

The scheme to expose the Zenins had been planned beforehand - being the only reason that Michizane even attended the ball in-person. And he’d thought that perhaps finding his late nephew’s look-alike had been a good omen.

Had been…

Oh, he just had to confirm it for himself. Especially after Naoya had affirmed that the Zenin’s hadn’t been aware of any son. 

Michizane could see the Gojo name in the boy. And so he was right. 

Acceptance had taken long hours cooped up in the numerous palace libraries—poring over history books, and rewriting ones that misunderstood.

During this time was when you’d iron-handed your ministers into changing the law that ‘only a prince shall marry a princess’. Of course. 

Long days and longer conversations.

Gojo had finally accepted that he was the sole righteous heir to the throne of Gojo by the time he’d ascended to the throne. It had occurred during a coronation too grand for words - of which you were the honored guest, of course.

Michizane had accumulated vast sapphire mines during his time away, and the Gojo kingdom’s infrastructure was soon able to recuperate their losses. Though not all of it…certainly some wounds would take time.

But the first time that Gojo stepped through those familiar palace walls, he cried as if it were a dream. And he’d said as much—“I had believed it was a dream- oh, I believed this was all a dream. This is my home.” As he embraced you in the middle of the royal lobby, you could agree with the sentiment. “You are my home.”

The first portrait that one saw when they entered the palace - moved by Michizane from Gojo’s former chambers to the main hallways - was one of his mother, his father, and Gojo himself.

Just an infant with bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile.

He had his father’s eyes, but his mother’s smile. 

After Gojo’s crowning, the borders of the Gojo kingdom were reestablished - all territories and citizens that surrounding kingdoms (as well as yours) had absorbed were handed to their rightful ruler.

His kingdom was new…but building. And fast.

Then Gojo had gotten to work helping right all of the Zenins’ wrongs. He aided in expanding the Inumakis’ agricultural lands, he returned the Cursed rubies that had been embedded in Naoya’s coronet to lord Sukuna, he promoted the Ijichi household’s titles twofold. 

And he rebuilt his own family. 

Of course, the Zenins themselves met their rightful fate. Prince Yuta had attacked their palace and numerous fortresses, causing those family members to be impounded. Some fled but were quickly caught—in part due to General Yaga’s tireless assistance. 

Gojo had insisted that the children grow up in his palace. And though you’d been befuddled at first - most certainly you wouldn’t allow them to be hurt…but as for raising them yourselves over placing them in noble homes - you quickly registered that Gojo simply didn’t want history to repeat itself.

Above all, he took in young Fushiguro Megumi as a ward.

The trials for the other family members were currently ongoing.

But, recently, there was a new event that shook your kingdom. 

The wedding. 

Not one of political nature…but rather love. No matter the class, position, or power the two of you held—you would always be his princess, and he your best friend- oh alright…your jester. But solely because Gojo still loved to act a-fool to make you laugh. 

Your father had no choice but to approve your wedding to such a powerful young King. Why would he risk such strong political ties? Why would he risk your abandonment?

Your people throw snow-white petals of gardenia as the wedding carriage passes through the streets- on its way to a honeymoon voyage before setting down in a newly-built palace between his kingdom and yours. Megumi would live there, too, and of course you’d convinced your most-trusted attendants—Utahime and everyone else that had readied Gojo that night of the engagement ball - to reside there, as well. 

Not as servers, but with titles. With General Yaga as your head of guards.

You couldn’t be happier. 

Gojo holds your hand. Wedding band on his left ring finger, the Gojo signet on his middle.  

Faces beamed and cheers soared as you two passed by in your dream-like carriage—upon a cloud. And though the kingdom had been decorated until one nearly couldn’t spot a single roof, Gojo only had eyes for you.

He’s unabashed as he leans down to publicly kiss you. 

Now that he finally could, the boy that had once been jester.

“Satoru.”

“My queen.”

he undresses you the way your kento did—slow and methodical, like he’s got all the time in the world and nowhere else he’d rather be. his fingers work each button, each clasp, with the same careful precision. when your dress pools at your feet, he steps back to look at you, his gaze traveling over your body like he’s memorizing it. your kento used to do that too. like you were something worth studying.

"you’re beautiful," higuruma says, the same words nanami always used. not a compliment. a fact. 

"you sound like him." 

"i know, baby." he reaches out, tracing your collarbone with one finger. "does it hurt?" 

"yes." 

"do you want me to stop?" 

"no."

higuruma kisses you the same way—deep, unhurried, his hand cradling the back of your head like you might break if he’s not careful. you’re on the bed now, your back against the pillows, and he’s hovering over you, his weight familiar and foreign all at once. 

when he pushes inside you, it’s slow and deep, his forehead pressed to yours. you close your eyes. and for a moment—just a moment—you let yourself pretend. the weight of him, the rhythm of his hips, the way he breathes your name against your neck like it’s a prayer. 

it could be your kento. it could be. your hands find higuruma’s back, your nails digging in, and you bite your lip to keep from saying the wrong name.

he notices. of course he does. he always does.

"stay with me," he whispers, his voice rough, his thrusts never faltering. "i know where you go. but i need you here. with me." you open your eyes and he’s looking at you, his face inches from yours, his expression open and raw and so painfully understanding it makes you want to sob. 

"i’m sorry," you breathe. 

he shakes his head, his lips brushing yours. "don’t be. just—stay."

you do. you stay. you let him fuck you gently, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining above your head. he doesn’t rush, he know how to give you what you need, what you’re willing to take, and when you cum, it’s with his name on your lips—his name, not your kento's, though the ghost of it lingers in the back of your throat like something you can’t quite swallow.

after, he holds you the way he did—your back to his chest, his arm draped over your waist, his breath warm against your neck. you stare at the wall, your eyes dry now, your heart a complicated tangle of grief and guilt and something that might be love, if you let it.

"i’m not him," higuruma says quietly, his voice already thick with sleep. "i know that. but i’m here. and i’m not going anywhere."

you reach up and press your lips to the mole on his cheek, the same one you used to kiss on nanami. it’s warm beneath your mouth. real and present.

"i know," you whisper against his skin. "i’m trying to remember that."

he kisses your temple, his arm tightening around you. "take your time. i’ll still be here when you do."

babygirl : @sadisticslut666

You hadn't even heard Caleb come in. But suddenly the entire room filled with his presence. Especially with the words he'd just delivered to his son, speaking in a tone so low that it was more threatening than if he had yelled.

"Now apologize to her immediately and never, ever speak to her like that again. You hear me?"

You want to tell him to stop. That you know your son was going through a rough patch and all teenagers behaved this way but you were too busy trying to hold the tears in to interrupt. Next to you, your son looks visibly pale. Sure, he admired and respected his Dad and almost never suffered any dire consequences for any mistakes he made but to see his father so visibly vibrating with the effort it took to suppress his anger, he was terrified.

When he fails to respond, Caleb's voice claps into the room like a lightning strike "Speak up, did you hear me?"

"Yes, sir" Your son is also on the verge of tears as he turns to you "I'm sorry, Mom"

You're about to respond but Caleb cuts in "Good. You're grounded for two weeks and will hand in your phone every night before bed. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir"

"Go to your room and tidy up. I'll be with you in a minute, we're going to address this little behavior properly" Your son has never faced his father's wrath this way and is desperate to make amends as he grabs your arm so you could shield him away like you always did.

Caleb's eyes drop to his trembling arms and he pulls you back against him, making him let go of you "No. You don't get to speak to her like that and use her as your defense too. She'll forgive you when she wants to"

You almost want to comfort your son when you see the kicked puppy look in his eyes as he sniffles, moving past you both to go upstairs and await further scolding.

For a long moment after he leaves, neither you nor Caleb move. He's still got his arm wrapped around your shoulder and after a tense moment, you lean into him "When did you get home?"

"Just in time to hear enough. We didn't raise him to be ungrateful like that. I almost threw him out of the house"

"Caleb-"

"No, Pips. He needs to learn that just because his Mother pampers him, he can't get away with talking to you like that" Turning you in his arms, Caleb bends to your eyelevel "And you need to stop letting him"

"He's just a little boy. Our little boy. You know he's had trouble adjusting since we moved last year. He's right, maybe we should cut him some slack"

"We can do that without excusing the disrespect" Kissing your shoulder, Caleb straightens "Let me talk to him, alright?"

He's about to walk away when you grab his arm "No matter what conclusion you come to, my son is not sleeping outside as punishment"

Smiling, Caleb presses a quick kiss into your hair "I'll try" When you give him a stern look, he laughs "I promise I'll try to be more...lenient"

You hear his footfalls on the staircase, a quick knock followed by the quiet thump of the door closing. As you start prepping for dinner, you relax more. Caleb pampered his son just as much, if not more. You trusted him enough to know he'd handle the situation with care.

You're putting the lid on the pot and clearing out the space when you feel arms around your waist, hugging you tightly from behind as your son sniffles against your back "I'm really sorry, Mom. I'll do better from here on out"

Smiling, you turn to hug him back "I'm really glad to hear that and-" You pull back till he's looking at you, nose red and eyes slightly puffy that indicated that he really did feel awful "-I forgive you, okay? Don't beat yourself up over it anymore" You squeeze him tightly once again and ruffle his hair before kissing his head "Now go freshen up before dinner"

He's exiting the kitchen, nodding at Caleb who was leaning against the doorway watching the entire exchange. Once he's gone, Caleb takes his place and wraps his arms around you, sighing deeply into your hair and making you laugh.

"How'd it go? I'm guessing good?"

"Hardest thing I've had to do in my life" Caleb admits as you run your fingers through his hair, patting his back while he tightened his arms around you "Thank God we didn't raise a troublemaker though I did promise we'll revisit the discussion for summer camp"

"You handled it well" You praise as Caleb pulls back to look at you, your fingers mussing up his hair into that cute, dorky look you'd first fallen in love with "Really well" At your conspicuous grin, your husband's eyebrows nearly touch his hairline when your fingers start twisting in his shirt "No one gets away with disrespecting your wife, huh?"

Caleb's fingers reach under your shirt, drawing patterns on your skin as he pulls you closer "You're my wife before you're his mother. He needs to learn that" Kissing your jaw, he nips at the skin as he whispers "So yes, nobody talks to my wife like that without facing consequences"

"Nobody?" You grin up at him.

Lowering his mouth against yours, Caleb's also grinning "Some of us have special privileges-" You jump when you hear your son's bedroom door shut again, trying to pull out of your husband's grip but he's insistent "Relax, babe. He knows how he was made and that the stock story isn't true"

Swatting his arm, you chastise "Caleb!" You're trying to escape his hold but it's hard to remember why you want to when he's got his hands on you like this and is kissing that secret spot under your ear like that "He could come downstairs at any time and- and...and dinner- oh"

gojo hums indulgently at you, playing the role of the ever patient and doting boyfriend, “ask for what you want or you won’t get it.”

digging your teeth into your lower lip as you consider your options but as the pads of his fingers caress your g-spot, you know you’re done for. hands grasping at his biceps, eyes a little wider with your overwhelming need, “‘toru! please– ohh god– inside– hng– i want—”

“—you want?”

eyelashes sticking together with your fight against unshed tears, gaze set on how your pussy greedily sucks in his fingers over and over, “your dick!– please– just fuck me open already.”

“good job,” he grins. digits slipping from you, drenched in your slick, “you always struggle to ask for what you want but if you ask, i’ll always give it to you.”

using the hand of the fingers that were just inside you, he lubes his cock with your wetness. hissing through his teeth as he grips his shaft and strokes a few times. you can see the way his abs twitch and his balls pull, he’d neglected himself to prep and tease you.

you always forget that he gets off on giving you pleasure, so involved in how cruel and teasing he’s being to remember that he really loves touching you. there’s gotta be something wrong with him because he looks painfully hard in his hand. he could’ve been inside you ages ago if he weren’t so intent on this song and dance.

“pay attention,” he taps the head of his dick against your clit a few times.

his touch jolts you back to yourself, you’d spaced out while staring at his cock. he slides his tip from your clit down to your hole, almost pressing inside before trailing back up. “why are you such a— hng!”

cut off by your own moan, all the air leaving your lungs. you’d been surprised by how he’s suddenly plunged inside, only about half-way in but more than enough to have your eyes rolling and back arching. he’d worked you up so much already you might cum far quicker than you want too.

“i’m sorry, pretty…” he huffs, making the monumental effort of dragging his eyes from where his cock is splitting you open, “what were you saying?”

you can’t talk, not yet, still reeling from the shock of how good it feels to finally have him in you. walls convulsing wildly around him as you struggle to fight off immediately cumming. though gojo seems to be enjoying your struggle immensely.

he knows, he always knows, he’s just that attuned to your body. so, of course he slams his hips forward and shoves the rest of his dick inside you all at once. your fingers dig into his skin as you mewl, he got what he wanted by doing that. your creamy walls tight and trying to suck him in impossibly deeper.

you’re cumming hard around him and truly all he’s done is fed you his cock. he finds you adorable, his heart hammering in his chest as he watches you squirm and twitch. gooey walls loving on him so sweetly, asking so nicely for his cum. he’s aching for it, he could dump a hot load inside your womb right now but it’s not enough, he needs to have more of your sweet cunt before he’s satisfied.

doing your best to respond but it’s not completely coherent, not when he’s started grinding into you. tip of his dick rubbing against your cervix, stimulating you cruelly as you shake and shiver through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“c’mon sweetheart,” he encourages, hands hooking under your knees to fold you, “what were you gonna tell me?”

you feel so incredibly full, head all fuzzy, “why– hnn– you’re such a fucking tease– hhh–”

“you bring it outta me,” he sighs like it’s a compliment. you’re so creamy around his dick that he’s choking a little, “fuuck– now sing for me.”

just like that, his pace is brutal, patience officially snapping. snapping like his hips, skin against skin loud in your shared room. you’re so sensitive too, orgasm barely passing before he’s fucking you into the mattress. the veins on his shaft throbbing against your twitchy walls, it’s good, too good.

your moans are pitchy and broken, feeling like he might actually break you or fuck you stupid. clawing to him desperately even in your folded up position, suddenly aching to be held by him. wanting him up against you completely.

you blink at him and struggle through moans, “hold me?”

“aw, sweetie,” he coos at you, he loves how clingy you get during sex, tugs at his heart strings as well as his balls. “of course,” because he meant it when he said all you ever had to do was ask.

gojo tugs your legs so they wrap around his waist and then he leans down, pressing his chest against yours. your arms loop around his upper back and hold him close, whining a bit at how he seems to slip impossibly deeper.

he’s overwhelmed by his affection for you and kisses you deep, tongue in your mouth licking against your own. shivers go down his spine at it, moan rumbling from his chest at your cunt squeezing him a little tighter. your reaction to his kisses visceral and obvious.

it’s not that much later that he’s on the verge of cumming, strokes deep and calculated as he does his best to keep the pace he’d set. he knows you’re about ready to cum again too, pussy begging for just a little bit more.

already knowing the answer to the question he’s about to ask but asking it anyways, “where you want it, pretty?” mostly he just wants to hear you say it.

your eyes are glossy and your lips are swollen from his hot kisses, “in– hng– inside me,” you whimper.

“sure, sweetie, whatever you want,” he grins like he’s not already excitedly picturing his seed leaking from your stretched hole.

his pelvis smacking against your clit inevitably does you in again, pathetic sounds that you hardly recognise as your own flooding the room. gojo struggles to let you ride it out, honeyed pussy attempting to milk him before he’s done getting you off.

and when you look at him with bleary, tearful eyes, he’s finished. fucking himself as far into you as he can go while he stuffs you with his load. feeling it so clearly how his spend is dripping back down his shaft, cumming too much for you to take it all.

gojo slips out of you tentatively and greedily eyes your drooling hole. his insides clawing with an obscene need, a filthy need to play with your messy cunt even more.

you’re blissed out in the foggy haze of your afterglow, forgetting how much of a pervert your boyfriend truly is until you’re jolted by his mouth on your overstimulated, overstuffed pussy. his tongue lapping at his own cum, cleaning you up while also ruining you further. your hands shoot to his hair as you weakly try to tug at him.

he relents a little unwillingly, moving up your body. his thumb on your chin pulling down, indicating for you to open your mouth. you wordlessly do what he wants, tongue hanging from your mouth and he spits your mixed cum onto it.

“you’re so perfect,” he grunts before taking your lips with his, all messy and deep. the taste of your shared cum filling the kiss. it’s dirty and lewd and it has you holding him tighter and whining into his mouth.

he may be a perverted freak, but you guess you’re no better.

“you don't have to promise me the moon or the stars, just promise me you will stand under them with me.” – danielle p.

“It’s just one month. I’ll be back sooner than you think! No. Hmm…that’s not right... How about, sooner than you can blink!”

“Aang…”

“Trust me, you’ll see.”

“Promise?”

“As the Avatar and as your husband, I promise to come back to you. Don’t worry.”

At least, that was what Aang had told you.

But that was two months ago without a word from him since.

Republic City was many things. Boring was not one of them.

The capital was full of life. It had its usual hustle and bustle from lively merchants advertising their businesses, mischievous children darting through the streets, and the abundance of song and dance that carried through the city as the sun dipped below the horizon.

Daylight was quickly giving way to twilight, and it was thanks to the lanterns that littered the streets that helped you follow the path further into downtown.

Republic City held undeniable beauty during the day. It was a city of life and wonder where all things were made possible, but it was towards nightfall when it was truly able to shine through.

The people of the city twirled to the ratta tap beat of the music, clearly enjoying the presence of one another. They were free to love who they wanted, benders and non-benders alike, and could live however they so chose. In hindsight, it wasn't much but it was reason enough for them to express their happiness and gratitude through singing and dancing.

You were merely thankful that Katara had agreed to stay back and live within the capital instead of with her father and brother at the newly established Southern Water Tribe. She was a part of the city council, like you were, and was your closest friend. If she wasn’t here, you weren’t sure what you would have done without her.

In fact, that was where you were headed now.

Her home was only a couple of blocks away from yours and your husband’s, which you were very thankful for. Even though Republic City was, more or less, safe within its own measures, there was still crime here and there. People that stole from the market square and ransacked shop owners. Not to mention the fact that the Denied remained a pressing issue. It was why Aang never liked when you would leave after dark by yourself. It was dangerous. Even though he could be a bit overprotective at times, he meant well and was right.

Truthfully, that was what made having Katara live so close by such a relief.

Subconsciously, your arms stiffened around the warm basket of food that you cradled against your chest as you moved quickly through the dimming streets.

When you turned another corner, your eyes gleamed, looking up at the towering building in front of you. Katara’s home was three stories high, and had several lanterns strung up. It was a lot of space for just one person, but she tended to have company over so it was actually quite convenient.

You could smell the fresh scent of jasmine and the warmth from the hearth inside. You didn’t waste another second and stepped up to the door, giving it a clean knock in three’s.

A few seconds went by before the door swung open. When her familiar face peeked from behind the door, a smile quickly found its way to yours.

“Hey! Took you long enough. Get caught up in all of the usual festivities?” Katara teased, giving you a fond smile back before she pulled you into a hug.

Not giving you a moment to respond, she ushered you in and closed the door behind her.

“Sorry about the mess. I’ve been moving some things around. Sokka said he’s bringing some things from home and begged me to make room so–” She spread her arms out to show her progress with a sheepish smile. “I made room.”

Katara had a unique style about her that was unlike anyone you had ever met. She was creative and stylish, yet had this comforting homey feeling about the way she decorated her home—something that never failed to fill you with dread when it was time to part ways.

There were several pieces and such that were previously made sprawled around the large space. They were all from her home, things that meant something to her. Things that were given to her by the children in the villages, and trinkets that Sokka made for her. He liked to tell her that they would become useful someday. Usually, they didn't but she appreciated his little farewell gifts either way.

You could tell that some of it was put up, but it would seem that she’d managed to keep the more meaningful ones out in view. A beautiful pot of jasmines sat comfortably in the window that was near her balcony. They had been a birthday gift from you. Something for her to look after and care for while she remained apart from what was soon going to be her new future.

You were enlightened to know that the flowers were flourishing.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, catching her gaze. “A lot of room, I see.”

Katara shrugged, some of her long dark hair falling over her shoulder. “Well, you know. Sokka asks, I deliver.”

You hummed and nodded with a knowing smile on your lips as you followed the familiar path to the cooking area of her home.

“Oh, yeah. Of course. I mean, you making all of this space has absolutely nothing to do with your betrothed. The same one that is on his way here from the fire nation as we speak. No, no. Surely not,” you jested, settling the still-warm basket of baked goods down on a nearby surface.

You didn’t need to look over your shoulder to know that she had followed you with her lip fit between her teeth and that flustered glint in her eyes. She was easy to read whenever it came to her and Zuko’s relationship.

Speaking of which, it was never made clear when Katara and Zuko became a thing.

Toph once mentioned that it had happened a year or so after the hundred-year war ended. Sokka had taken a more…romantic approach. He preferred to remember it as love at first sight. Or, more knowingly when Zuko first arrived at the Southern Water Tribe, looking for the Avatar. Katara never bothered to correct nor deny either of them. When asked, she simply said,

“Zuko and I… Let’s just say that there was a mutual understanding between us, even as friends. Time is a funny thing. You really start getting to know someone when the world is ending. Or…beginning, I should say.”

At the time, you didn’t know him all that well but Zuko on the other hand…

“Katara is the moon, a light and beacon when the world around me got too dark to see. She has anchored me and I only wish to remain by her side, for as long as she will have me.”

Aang, on the other hand, was the most surprising one.

His support of their relationship had always confused you. Of course, you’d joined the group well after the war and the building of Republic City, but you became close enough to understand their dynamics and history together. His feelings for Katara was made out to be quite strong. Strong enough to see a future together. You could never understand what had happened between them and why they were not still together, but it meant little to you when you'd realized how happier they were apart.

Not to mention that, within a few months, Katara was going to be fire lady of the fire nation. Added that she would also continue to act as one of the council members for Republic City as well as back at the Southern Water Tribe.

It was clear, for both her and Aang, that there were no romantic feelings between them. They died the day they realized they wanted different things but, in place, something else was born.

A friendship that they knew would last several lifetimes over.

It was never like you needed the reassurance of knowing that they no longer had feelings for each other. It was never about that. You loved Aang, but always wanted the best for Katara. So it warmed your heart to know that she was happy.

She deserved it.

“Spirits, enough about me. We have to talk about you.”

Your expression fell a bit, feeling the color drain from your face. The last thing you wanted to do nowadays was talk about you. In fact, keeping all subjects away from you was what, somehow, helped make the days bearable.

Except, Katara had this way about her that wasn't exactly intrusive because she cared about you and could feel when things were off with you. However, she tended to meddle more than you wanted. Especially when she knew that something was wrong, even if you promised her differently.

And well, she was never exactly wrong. It wasn't as if things had been all that great since...

“If this is about Aang, then–”

“Yes. It is.”

You paused.

"Katara.”

“Come on–”

“I honestly would prefer not to really talk about it.”

There was a sharp finality to your tone that made Katara give you a puppyish look. You let out a heavy breath, feeling exhaustion seep into your bones like it'd belonged there. Then again, did it not?

At least it made you feel something other than hurt or angry.

“Aang does this all the time," Katara tried to reassure you. "He’s the Avatar. He’s a busy guy. A lot of people are counting on him to help keep the balance of the world. Without that and peace, I’m not sure where things would be right now. There’s also a lot of people that need him–”

“And I don’t?”

Your interruption made her stop and blink.

You should've stopped it then and there, but there was an impulse inside of you. It felt like it was trying to claw its way from your throat, and you weren't able to catch it in time.

"I know the Denied are an issue and I knew that there were going to be people that would need his help along the way but it’s been two months, Katara. No letters, no word. I don't even know if he's okay or not. I don't know anything, and that’s what hurts me the most."

The silence between you and her managed to smother the sounds of the crackling hearth from the other room. The longer that you stood in silence, the easier it was for a wave of regret to burrow itself down deep into your chest.

There was nothing that you loved more than being by Aang’s side and supporting him through all of his endeavors. This was his purpose, his reason for existing. You knew this, and yet—

You knew how that had sounded. It was…selfish, on a grand scale of things. Aang was the Avatar. He was who the people of the world depended on the most, even for the most minute of reasons. If they called, he answered, always. But, for some reason, the importance of who he was—

It was taking a toll on you.

“Sorry. That was completely unnecessary.” You turned and pressed your back against the edge of the counter, your eyes glued to the floor. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No,” Katara shook her head, and walked over to place a gentle hand on your arm. She sighed. “You don’t need to apologize. You have every right to feel the way that you do.”

When you looked up, you were met with soft cerulean eyes that gave you more reassurance than you felt you deserved.

“You love him and miss him, a lot. I know the feeling. So don’t invalidate yours by apologizing for something that you can’t necessarily control.”

“I do,” you agreed, fighting the inner turmoil within you. “I do love him, but that still shouldn’t excuse how I’ve been feeling. He’s out there, alone. Sure he can handle himself but he’s...”

A sting to your eyes, a burn to your nose and suddenly your vision started to blur. It only frustrated you more because there was nothing worse than feeling sorry for yourself than crying when you felt you were wrong.

“To me, he’s not the Avatar, Katara.”

You looked at her, ignoring the way your unshed tears made you see the look on her face.

“He’s my husband, and I want him home. I don’t care about the Denied or any other group of criminals. I just want Aang home.”

Katara felt her heart tug down to the shallows of her stomach.

“Hey…”

She pulled you into a hug, feeling your tears dampen her shirt.

“I know,” she nodded. “I know.”

Because if anyone could understand where you were coming from, it was always going to be Katara.

For the past two months, Aang had been on a long and arduous mission somewhere in the Earth Kingdom trying to find out more information on the exact location of the Denied.

Within the last year, there had been several reports that began to surface across entire villages within the Earth Kingdom that were quietly siding with the Denied. Murmurs of a mutual understanding and rebellion against the benders of the world. There were also reports of supply routes disappearing and the Earth Kingdom officials who were being threatened or worse, vanishing completely. No one knew who was leading them, only that they were growing bolder and larger.

Aang was analytical. He knew that they never tended to stay in one place for long so he figured that if he could find their hidden headquarters, he would have access to their current whereabouts or, at the very least, know their next move.

That was what his last letter said to you before they had stopped coming altogether.

Perhaps that was what aided the storm that had been brewing inside of you. The same one that had been creating a monsoon of thoughts and emotions that you would have normally swallowed down in favor of giving Aang your continued patience and support. Even from a distance now forced between the two of you.

And the thing was, you did understand. The Denied were becoming a very serious threat and you knew that he was truly the only one that could sort this without violence and penance.

Your husband was the Avatar, the most important man on the planet. How much more selfish could you be?

“Thank you Katara,” you said and managed to give her a tender smile as you pulled back from her embrace, silently hoping that it was convincing enough to ease her worries.

“Now,” you sniffled, taking a breath. “I believe that we have a lot to talk about with this wedding of yours coming up. Wanna make the tea and I’ll plate some of the homemade sweet buns I brought?”

For a split second, Katara’s brows twitched inward. As if it had been the trick of the room's gentle glow, she smiled warmly and gave you a nod.

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

When you turned to do just that, her face fell.

She knew that look all too well. You were doing it again. You were letting that vulnerable part of yourself decide to crawl back into the cold shadows of your mind where you felt it was safest. It always hurt when you did it with her. She wanted you to feel safe enough to tell her how you felt and rely on her to help alleviate the pain you carried of constantly wondering if you were still a wife or now a widow. It was not easy, of course she knew that. But, still...

She watched you pull two serving dishes from the cabinet and place a few of the sweet buns onto them. When you turned to check on her, she made herself busy by snagging the tea kettle from a lower compartment and filled it with water. You sent her a smile from over your shoulder, and she noticed that it barely met your eyes.

Katara smiled back and turned around, sighing quietly to herself.

Aang, she spoke from the confines of her mind, shutting her eyes. Please come home.

After a rather long talk about wedding plans, council member work and bellies full of a few sweet buns and tea, the sky completed its final cycle and descent into nightfall.

It was time to head back home and just like every night since you were left alone, you dreaded it.

Without Aang, home no longer felt like home. It lacked the warmth and luminance that your lively husband tended to bring with him. Where it felt as though the sun encompassed the space, once he was gone, he left behind a cold and dark cloud that seemed to engulf everything within reach. Like a black hole that only knew how to consume until there was nothing left.

The thought of having to return back to that only made your stomach turn. He should be here. He should be home, with you.

But he wasn’t.

When you made it to the foyer of her home, you were pulled into another hug but tighter this time. Katara squeezed you as if she, too, knew what you were you going back to.

“Promise me that you’ll come back over the day after tomorrow,” She said, just above a whisper next to your ear. “Sokka’s going to want to see you and Zuko too. Honestly, not seeing you for a day will kill me but I have that council meeting about the trades from back home tomorrow…”

Slowly but firmly, you circled your arms around her form, giving her a promising nod.

“Don’t worry. I will.”

When you separated and walked out, you could feel pieces of her home trying to pull you back in. It also knew.

Katara sent you a small wave, and watched you disappear back into the streets of the city, headed down the familiar darkened path to what you still managed to call home.

As if the universe was aware of your desolate mood, it began to rain.

You couldn't help but stop where you were, craning your neck up to the sky. It started with a few drops along your cheeks until the rain fell in sheets, soaking you from head to toe. However, you didn't move. Not even when those that were leisurely walking the streets, likely going back home as well, gasped and jogged the rest of the way, seeking warmth and shelter.

It was the middle of fall, and it was raining. Usually the city would see a few snow-scares before winter finally came around but rain at this time of the year was rare.

A brief sigh left your lips as you closed your eyes, and continued to stand in the middle of the street, ignoring the feeling of your clothes sticking to you like a second skin. Then, you smiled.

Memories of the last time you were caught in the rain resurfaced and helped you remember one of the last moments that you'd had with Aang.

༄ ... flashback ... ༄

"What about this?"

Aang took a brief glance at you from over his shoulder before he released an airy breath.

"Not everything's going to be something worth taking back home, my love." He smiled and turned back to what he was doing.

You raised a brow, and studied the artifact for a moment.

Under the warm glow of a nearby lantern, you held up long, thin pieces of metal that were suspended at uneven lengths and had fading, almost smooth-looking air nomad glyphs carved onto them. There were some parts of it that had green weathering areas from decades of mountain snow and rain exposure while others had small dents along the edges. The metal parts were divided by tiny beads that were carved from pale wood and chimed quietly together when the wind stirred well enough. They produced a soft hollow sound. It was almost…haunting.

That was when you heard Aang shift to look at you again but this time, his face paled.

He sucked in a breath and held it as he turned to face you. His eyes were wide and on the chimes that you were still holding.

"Is that..."

You watched the way his fingers twitched at his side, almost as if he wanted to reach out to touch it but was afraid to.

"That's... Those are prayer chimes."

He moved closer to you, and finally raised a hand to gently brush along the dusty beads. His eyes were glossy, even under such poor lighting.

"The monks used to use these for mediation and mourning. I haven't heard the sound of these since before the war. Since I was a child."

His voice was barely above a whisper and if you weren't paying such close attention, you would've missed it.

When his eyes shifted onto you, your heart sunk.

"Oh, Aang..."

He brought a hand up to his temples and rubbed them before turning back around. Memories of his old mentor and best friend, Gyatso, surfaced.

Times where Aang would mediate with him and hear those same chimes from the archway of the room. How, on nights where it was difficult for Aang to sleep, the old monk would let him rest in his room while the soft ringing of the chimes lulled him to sleep, finally ridding his mind of the nightmares that ailed him.

Flashes of the past began to filter through his mind, glimpses of his old friend, of the children that he played with, of the joy and the laughter. All of it came rushing back, the dreams of his memories that had been haunting him every night were colliding with his waking mind. It was so surreal, he could hardly tell what was real anymore.

It was like they were there, all of them; he could hear them as if he was there again, back at the Southern Air Temple, enjoying his youth with his friends and the one monk that never saw him as the Avatar. Just Aang, a boy that met a worldly responsibility at an age where all that should have mattered to him was being a kid. In the face of what truly came to matter, he got scared and ran away.

If he hadn’t run away, if he had chosen to stay and fight what was inevitably coming, would his people have survived or would he have just died trying?

Aang knew that it was pointless to still dwell on. It was far too late now.

And it was because of this that he would always see himself as a coward, the coward that ran away yet still called himself the Avatar.

How foolish, and undeserving he was.

Without another thought, you gently placed the chimes back on the surface where you found them and slid your arms around his waist, holding him. You pressed your cheek against the warmth of his back, and closed your eyes.

"We'll take them with us. We'll take as much as Appa can carry, okay?"

You opened your eyes and tried to peek around Aang's broad form to see his face. You knew that he was crying. You saw it in his eyes before he looked away, and you could see it now. He was still covering his face, but you could see the traces of tears that started to fall. You could also feel him trembling, and not from the draft curling through the room.

It pained him to be here. It pained him to be in any of the air temples but more so with having you riding along with him. He never liked to show you the weakest parts of him, but being in these places... In the places that held the memory of his people that were long gone and only here through his own memories—it was a kind of pain that couldn't be put into words.

"I'm sorry," you heard him say, watching him shake his head. "This was meant to be a bonding trip for us. I didn't mean to ruin it by getting all sad and emotional."

Your heart nearly stopped. You pulled back just to turn him back around so that you could see him clearly. You reached up and pried his hands away, finding his teary eyes and red-splotched cheeks utterly heart-breaking.

You took his face in your hands, and rubbed away the falling tears.

"Never apologize for having emotions ever again, Aang, do you hear me? I can't bear it. You are allowed to feel exactly how you feel. No matter what emotion that is, it's okay."

He looked at you with such softness and vulnerability, it almost broke you into a million pieces.

"My love, we are two halves of a whole. I share your pain while you share mine. I know that you wanted to come here and show me pieces of your past, but please don't apologize when the memories get too much to bear. As your wife, I am meant to carry that weight with you. Never forget that."

A distant rumble of thunder shuddered and rattled around the old temple, causing some of the ancient wood to creak and groan. It coincided with the storm that simmered at the edges of Aang's mind. Yet, looking at you while placed into the delicate palms of your hands grounding him—he felt it all wash away. The darkness that filled him began to descend and retreat back into the shadows of his mind until all he could see and hear was you.

Aang lifted a hand to cover one of yours, giving you a warm and familiar smile.

"What would I do without you?"

"Mmm," you smiled back. "I don't know. Miss me?"

"You're right." He let out a low chuckle before he pulled you in closer, one hand on your waist while the other covered the back of your hand that was still against his face. His big grey eyes were back to their usual playfulness and you knew exactly what was on his mind.

"Aang, its going to storm soon."

"Mhm."

"Sooo."

He smirked, his eyes moving down to your lips.

"Sooo?"

You tried to hold back a roll of your eyes, but ultimately failed. He laughed as you sighed.

"You're such a handful, you know that?"

Aang lowered his head until his lips were just a breath away from yours. You could practically feel the smile on his lips as he said,

"Yeah, and you wouldn't have it any other way."

The moment that you took a breath, he wasted no time and pressed his lips against yours, swallowing it whole. You gave in and melted against him, moving your arms to wrap around his neck. You closed your eyes, and imagined a world where it was just you and him living endlessly, eternally bound to one another until the end of time and the life thereafter.

You knew that you did not hold the power to rewind time and bring all of his people back. But, what you did have was hope. You would help him build back what he had lost the best way you knew how and that was by focusing on what was still here rather than mourn what was now lost.

It started with you, him, and a lot of dusty old airbender relics…which had to be put on pause the moment that you felt his lips trail from the curve of your jaw to your neck.

"Aang," you whined.

"Shhh."

He switched places so that your back was in line of an old rickety table, and placed his hands at your waist to lift you up onto it. When it wobbled and creaked, both of you shared a wide eyed look before giggling together.

"If this comes down with me on it, me and appa will leave you here."

Aang chuckled lowly as he mapped his wide hands along your thighs, moving between them, close to the warmest part of you. His lips ghosted yours again as a mild distraction and without you noticing, he bended the air, parting your legs to slot himself right in the middle of them.

Your breath hitched when you felt him grip your thighs to pull you right up against him, feeling a desperate ache below your navel stir awake.

He hummed.

"Then I'll make sure I'm real gentle. Don't worry," and claimed your lips again, groaning at the muffled whine at the back of your throat with terrible plans of wrecking you and that feeble ol' table.

When both of you were finally dressed again and Aang told you that it was time to head back home, it began to pour with rain.

Before you and Aang had set out in search of ancient airbender relics at the old northern air temple, the sky was clear of clouds and any other indication of rain. Now, there wasn't a hint of blue left. There were just dark grey clouds and buckets of cold rain cascading down.

Once all of the old relics that the two of you could fit in your satchels were full, Aang whistled for Appa. The large bison roared in the distance and came barreling through the sky, landing a few feet in front of you.

"Come on, let's get back home before it gets worse!"

He took your wrist and tried to pull you along but was met with a bit of resistance. Worried and confused, he looked back at you with furrowed brows.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?"

There was nothing about you that alarmed him other than the way you were looking around. Well, then there was the apprehension in your voice too.

"I don't know, Aang. You know what they say about flying in storms like this. Plus, we're going to be soaking wet. I think I'll pass on that."

All of the tension that quickly coiled under his skin fell away. He smirked, quirking a brow.

"What? Scared of a little water? The same woman that managed to hold her own against a fire bender and a few lightning attacks? Who are you and what did you do to my wife?"

Without looking down, he felt your hand tighten around his. There was a new air of determination about you that made him fight back a smile. He always knew how to get to you. He just had to press the right buttons, and so he did.

"Let's go," you muttered and with a faint yelp from him, you tugged him out to Appa and saddled up. When you grabbed the reins and looked down at him wearing an impatient expression on your face, he finally smiled to himself.

"Yes ma'am," and used the air around him to push off on the balls of his feet up onto Appa as well, sitting right behind you. Even though both of you were soaked through, he still wrapped his arms around your waist, suctioning the front of his body against the back of yours. He felt you stiffen, and watched the way your hands gripped at the reins. He smirked again, and looked ahead. "Appa, yip yip!"

And then you were off, headed back home.

༄ ... end of flashback ... ༄

When the memory faded and you opened your eyes, you felt the wind begin to pick up, ruffling your clothes and the shutters on the houses around you.

It was definitely time to head back home.

Once you'd made it through the entrance, you made a face, finally feeling the heaviness of your clothes. Eagerly, you peeled off each article and hung them up in the entryway to dry. With each pad of your feet towards your shared bedroom, you left behind a trail of wet footprints that you made a mental note to clean up when you were all washed and dried.

As you stood underneath the copper rainfall-style pipe and let the warm water roll off of your body in steady trails, you could feel your mind begin to wander.

Weeks of waiting to hear back from Aang, and nothing. No letters from his wind-swallow messenger nor any word from any of your connections in the Earth Kingdom. Not even from the one person that would’ve sent you an update the moment she caught wind of his name. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to dig for information from Toph. She just didn’t have anything worth noting to give you.

It was nerve wracking having to wait. To worry and spend almost every single night curled up in a ball in a bed that no longer even smelled like him anymore. It felt like each day came to erase him, piece by piece, until time left you with nothing but what he was. Not as the Aang you'd come to know, but as the Avatar instead.

You had half a mind to set out to his last known location to search for him, but Katara stopped you before you could do it. She’d told you that she understood why you wanted to go, but that it wouldn’t help the situation. Especially if, when he did come back, he came back to an empty home and to the news that you were dead, thousands of miles where no one would ever find you.

You understood that it was not because you were weak or unable to handle your own out there. It was simply because there was not a single person alive that didn’t know who you were, unless they lived under a rock. Everyone knew you were the Avatar’s wife, which made you worth as much as Aang. It made you into a target.

Katara was truly your voice of reason; why you decided to stay put and wait instead. You couldn’t bear hurting Aang that way or ever at all. Plus, you were brave but you were not stupid either.

As painful as it was to sit and be patient, it was your only option.

When the water began to shift temperatures, you decided that it was best to finish washing up and finally get dry.

Once you stepped out of the stone-clad bathroom and into the main bedroom, it was hard to ignore the emptiness around you.

During Aang’s absence, you’d made several attempts at keeping the space well-kept and full of the same vibrance that he was so naturally gifted with. From leaving a few ancient nomad scrolls in one corner of the room to keeping an incense lit in the other. It was always the same scent. Cedarwood and Juniper. He’d once told you that it would help him quiet his thoughts. To rest his mind so that he could meditate in peace.

Your brows furrowed, staring at the meditation corner. Try as you might, but it would seem that dust was drawn to the places where he lingered the most. Maybe it was meant to haunt you worse than the memories and the nightmares. You see, dust was something that you could see. What your mind often conjured were things that you could blink away or distract yourself from.

Something physical, on the other hand…

It only served as a cruel reminder that you were alone and had been for a while.

Your feet crossed the room without much sound, flitting about the room like you were just remnants of a person; a ghost in your own home. Once your skin was dry and lathered in its usual oils, you spotted something from the corner of your eye. On the dresser rested a folded heap of orange and yellow fabric. Your heart clung to the cage in your chest as you took in a slow breath, and shuffled over. As delicately as you were capable, you pulled it down and watched it unravel before you.

It was one of Aang’s robes. It was one that he wore when he was at home and could shuck off his everyday wear to replace it with something that didn’t remind him of his duties as the Avatar. You’d made it for him one day, and he had worn it ever since.

When you rose it up to the tip of your nose, you could still smell bits of him.

“I just want to know that you’re safe. That’s all.”

Maybe Aang was safe, he just couldn’t send his messenger, but you selfishly wished that he would just so you could know something.

With a sigh, you placed it back in the same neat fashion the robe was previously in before dressing in your night gown. It wasn’t completely see-through but just enough to keep your skin cool from the hot temperatures of your shower and the mugginess luring in from the outside rain.

After you cleaned up the wet footprints from the entryway, you decided that another hot cup of tea would help you rest for the night. Or, at the very least, settle your cloudy mind.

Luckily, you still had some jujube-ginger tea left over from earlier in the morning and heated the kettle up atop the warming flame. It was going to be a few minutes so you crossed back into the common room for a moment, and opened a few windows along with the balcony doors. For a brief second, you stood there and watched the rain fall.

Aang always did prefer some of the windows opened, especially when it was nice outside and the wind was blowing. He loved the home more when there was fresh airflow coming through but with the rain, it felt cold; much like how everything else around you did.

With a sigh, you turned and chose to take a seat near the lowered table on a fluffed cushion. The silence was welcoming, but the emptiness was not. You brought your legs up so that you could rest your chin on your knees, and stared out at the balcony doors.

During the first week after Aang left for his mission, you started looking for him to come dropping back in on the balcony. The two of you had a wrap-around balcony but he preferred to come in where you could see him. So you would wait up, every night, until you began to realize that he wasn’t going to be coming back home anytime soon.

You’d told yourself that every week but when it got to be a month and a half, you stopped looking for him completely. You went about your days as if he was already gone and in a way, that was what it felt like. It felt like a loss, even though the better part of you knew that he was still out there.

Or, at least, you'd hoped so.

Hope was a funny thing sometimes but it kept you from doing something stupid like going out and finding him yourself, despite what Katara said. Who knows if you would like what you found anyway...

Still waiting for the whistle of the kettle, you shifted and was about to reach for a book you’d started recently reading when your eyes caught a few scattered pieces of half-rolled up paper on the table. Your brows furrowed, and reached for them instead.

When you unraveled one of them, you felt a wave of sadness crash into you. It was all of Aang’s letters to you. Well, the ones that he'd sent before they stopped coming.

You sifted through them until you came upon the first one he’d sent and sniffled, pulling a spare blanket over your legs as you started to read through them all over again.

༄ hey baby, it’s me! well…guess you already know that by the bird huh? by the time you read this, i’ll already be pretty close to the border of the earth kingdom. i wish i could give you more than that but you know how easily these letters can fall into the wrong hands. anyway, i miss you… so much. these past few nights have been so lonely without you… momo and appa would bite my head off if they could read this but it’s not the same without you

but i hope the necklace i gave you makes up for my absence, just until i get back yeah?

wait for me. i will be home, soon

– A

As you read through it, you'd subconsciously reached up and fiddled with the necklace that hung around your neck. It was the only piece of jewelry that you never took off, not even when you bathed. It was the only thing that you had left of him, other than his robe.

You didn’t realize that you were crying until you noticed a dark wet spot on the parchment. You cleared the tears away, and shuffled the papers so that you could read the next few.

༄ my love, my sweet love, how are you?

i got your letter, don’t worry, i just haven’t had time to get back to you because guess what? i found a clue on where they are! well, actually, sorry i forgot to mention that i’m here in the earth kingdom now and actually met up with toph. enjoyed seeing her again but sadly she didn’t have any info on you know who sooo, i went out and did my own digging and actually found something!

it was details about another hideout but it really feels like i’m getting closer which means i should be home soon! exciting right? to see your face again, to hold you and kiss you… it’s all i dream about. well, when i get to sleep that is. sleeping hasn’t been all that easy lately…

sorry that this letter is longer than the last. i’ll work on that. just got too excited to talk to you but i know we will talk again and next time, i hope to have better news. until then…

– A

Thankfully, the hearth in the common room you were in had still been on when you’d left earlier to go see Katara. It kept you warm as you sat there, on the floor, reading through old letters and reopening old wounds.

With another quiet sniffle, you moved on to the next and final one that almost made you break down while reading it.

༄ hi love.

i don't want to scare you but...momo isn’t doing well. i’m not sure when he started to feel sick or how or from what and i was close to turning back but he’s in toph’s care right now and i’m closer than ever on the group's whereabouts. appa is doing ok, don’t worry. me on the other hand…

it’s been storming a lot here. you know i’m not a big fan of storms but even without you here to keep me calm, i’ve been managing.

i want to come back home. i really do. it’s all i think about now but i know i cant. i have to make sure this group is no longer a threat to our home, to you. you understand that…right?

pls don’t give up on me. i WILL be home soon. i made you that promise didn’t i? do you still believe in it? pls say that you do.

i do…

i can’t say when i will be able to write to you again but hopefully you’ll see me in person so we won’t have to rely on these little pieces of paper.

i love you. so much. you are my heart and my everything. i know i have already asked so much of you but pls continue to wait for my return.

talk soon,

– A

Before you knew it, you were sobbing.

Horribly.

The letters were scattered around you when you tugged the blanket up to your face, crying into it. It felt like your heart was breaking into two all over again. Every part of you felt hollow and in so much pain, you could hardly move. Your body shook and trembled, curling into yourself until you felt like the smallest thing in the room.

The battle of knowing that Aang held the world on his shoulders as the Avatar but doubled as your husband and was only trying to do what was right, weighed heavily on you. It felt silly to be so upset just because you missed him but you also knew that it was not only that. It was how worried you were for him. He was never someone that would not communicate, even if it was just a two-sentence letter. What if something really did happen to him? What if you’d spent all this time crying and being angry at him when there was a real possibility that he might have been…

You shook your head and dug your fingers into your legs, pushing your face further into your knees. No, you told yourself. Aang was fine. He was strong and more than capable of taking care of himself. He’d fought many to make Republic City into what it was. He’d even fought a spirit just to fight for his claim over the land itself. Even through the times that he lost, he got back up and kept fighting until he won.

That was your Aang. That was the man that you fell in love with and trusted more than anything. He told you to wait. He promised that he would return to you. You knew this and believed in it, in him.

So why were you doubting him now?

Was it the absence? The unknowing of where he was and if he was really okay? The cut of communication and no information from Toph? The same person that Aang said he'd seen in his letter to you before he had just...disappeared?

You tried to rationalize some of your thoughts before they got too dark. Toph, more than likely, didn't give you any deep information on his whereabouts because it came in a correspondence and was not a conversation that was done in person. You remembered that letters were intercepted all of the time. It did no one any favors for outsiders to know that the Avatar was gone and had left his defenseless wife, at home, all by herself.

Toph was looking out for you and her friend, Aang. It was the only thing that made sense.

You gave yourself a few more moments before you decided to light one of the incenses that Aang used, if not to breathe and bring you momentary peace. Once that was done, the tea kettle squealed hot on its open flame, grabbing your attention. When you gathered the letters and placed them back on the table, you went to check on the tea.

As you poured yourself a cup, the aroma whirled around the space and blended with the scent of the incense, calming your mind and your body in one. For a moment, you allowed yourself the opportunity to think of nothing. To stand in place, and just breathe.

The one thing you’d forgotten to do in your husband’s absence was meditate. Frankly, it was something that you did together. You knew it was often best to do it alone, but you loved being near him in a pocket of silence to sit, breathe, and feel the things around you. He once told you that meditating was not always a way to connect with his past lives. He mostly did it for himself. To ground himself when he needed it most.

Aang was far from perfect. He had just as many flaws as the next person and knew, through meditating, he could find himself again. Especially during his hardest moments.

You wondered if he ever found the chance to meditate while being away. If there was time for him to just be alone with his thoughts and connect back with the air around him. To try and reach out to you the way you’d tried with him in your dreams.

The thought pulled a smile from you. You pictured him sitting in a cross-legged fashion, fists together with a particularly concentrated expression on his face before it turned into a cute pout. Maybe the demands around him kept him from truly being able to focus. Upon people seeing him, there was no telling what kind of side quests he was put on. It was like him to get sidetracked in favor of helping those that needed it along the way.

You took the opportunity to splash a bit of cool water onto your face to subdue any puffiness that might come from your earlier moment of crying and took your tea back into the common room, crossing out to the balcony.

The rain had lightened to a soft pitter-pat with a few rumbles of thunder in the distance. It would seem that the worst of it was well over and left behind a soft soothing ambience to close out the night.

You were appreciative. The rain never bothered you. In fact, you enjoyed storms. It provided enough noise to shut out the bad thoughts, and it tended to fill the home in a way that made you feel less alone.

As soon as you were about halfway through your cup of tea, you set it down and glanced at a few pots of flowers next to you. Your eyes softened. Wind lilies. On one of your first trips out to the Southern Air Temple, there were only a few left that were healthy enough to take back with you and since then, they’d been thriving wonderfully. It was only due to your frequent tending that they had managed to survive for so long. Still, most flowers, especially brought from one region to live in another, would struggle to acclimate to a different climate. These, on the other hand…

“Thank you for sticking it out with me,” you bent to meet the lilies eye to eye, smiling. “My little troopers.”

Moments of Aang struggling to remember to water them half of the time almost made you giggle. He had many talents, but tending to flowers was definitely not one of them. Funny, considering he was the master of patience. However,

“C’mon,” Aang whined, half of his lumbering body hanging across the balcony railing. “You know I’m not good at that stuff. Flowers require too much work.” You smiled, rolled your eyes and continued watering them. He then grinned and made his way over to you, wrapping his arms around you. “Not that it matters when they’ve got such a good mama to do it though, huh?”

“Aang, you’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, lips against your neck. “I know.”

A sigh left your lips as you studied the flowers a bit closer. There were a few dead leaves that needed trimming and you decided that since you were having some trouble sleeping and was waiting for the tea to kick in anyway, why not cut them now? So, you grabbed a pair of brass trimming shears that were near the flower pots and got to work.

The tranquility of the soft rain, the surrounding city lanterns and the smell of the wind lilies filled your chest with a warmth that you hadn’t felt in a while. You were not often rewarded with nights like this. The ones where you weren’t constantly being haunted and tormented with dreams that would urge you awake, night after night. No, this was one of those nights where you'd almost felt at peace with yourself. Where being at home didn’t feel as though it was draining you. Things almost felt…right.

So, you allowed yourself this momentary feeling of freedom from it all and started to hum as you trimmed, remembering a tune from your childhood. In the stillness of your mind, you'd missed the way the air shifted around you. A breeze that was not there moments ago was now brushing at the ends of your hair like a familiar touch that you’d become unfamiliar with.

Gentle as a breeze, and unbeknownst to you, Aang landed on the other side of the western curve of the balcony that was near the bedroom. He closed his glider, set it to the side, and stepped inside while being as careful and as silent as he could. In truth, it was never very difficult for him. He tended to walk as if his feet hardly ever touched the ground, but he could feel the exhaustion creeping up on him.

It had been a long and grueling journey back home.

Momo finally started to feel well enough to travel so once Aang was able to settle things back at the Earth Kingdom, he knew that it was time to head back. For the first few hours, he had been overly excited. He was coming back home, coming back to you, his sweet little wife, but with the lack of sleep and all of the stress that he had underwent—it was no wonder his footsteps landed on spots in the wood flooring that they normally would not have. They creaked underneath him but he figured that you were probably deep in sleep and wouldn't notice.

When he finally rounded into the bedroom, he discarded all of his damp clothing and slid on a pair of warm loose sleeping pants that he let hang low on his hips. He was fully prepared to slip into bed and cozy up next to you when he noticed that the bed was made as if you hadn't slept yet. It was strangely untouched, almost as if you'd never even acknowledged it at all. Were you not home?

Sporting a small pout, Aang peeked his head into the washroom but was met with the same silence and darkness he'd walked into when he came in.

Softly, he called your name as he moved towards the kitchen area and...nothing. He frowned, but wasn't at the stage of concerned yet. Especially since there was clearly a warm kettle of tea that was left on the warmer. He brushed the back of his hand against it. He was right. You couldn't have made the tea that long ago, so you were close by. He was sure of it.

He was always good at finding you. That was never a problem.

It just helped when he could...cheat a little.

When he stepped into the common area, he circled his fingers through the air, bending the flow of the current to his will so that he could feel for your presence. Since the windows and the balcony doors were open, it was easy for air to travel through the home and wind throughout, being able to cover the entire upper floor before he took his next breath. Suddenly, the torrent of air stopped. His eyes widened, and a warm smile curved at his lips.

There you were.

Before he could walk out to the balcony to you, he heard the sound of paper shuffling to the floor. Curious, he turned and saw what was there. He bent at the knees and with a crease to his forehead, his eyes swept over the pages.

Letters. His letters to you.

Even though he remembered what he had wrote to you, he read over them, ignoring the way his chest flooded with a sinking feeling. They were hard to read, being back home now. He'd missed you, a lot, but didn't want to even imagine how his long and silent absence affected you.

He sighed and dropped his hand, still holding the letters. His eyes traveled over to the hearth that was still aflame, and felt a chill along his naked spine. Maybe he should have rushed the mission. He knew he needed more information on the Denied but was all of it worth it in the end? If you were still up at this late hour and was drinking jujube-ginger tea while rereading all of his letters...

He had been wrong.

He'd told himself that you understood what he needed to do, who he was to the people of the world. You knew he was the Avatar. He had a duty to protect the people and the balance of all nations but more importantly, you.

So did you not understand? Did you pretend to when he first told you that he loved you and wanted to be with you for the rest of his life?

All he wanted was to make sure that the world stayed safe enough for you to live in. It was never like you asked him to take on that responsibility, but he couldn't sleep at night knowing that you were constantly surrounded by danger when he knew that he could do something about it. You deserved what he had to fight for, and that was peace.

But could it really be at the cost of causing you so much pain and unrest?

Suddenly, he was afraid to face you. It felt like judgement day.

Still, no matter what, Aang had to see you. He'd let you cry, scream and hit him if it made you feel better. He just wanted to lay eyes on you. Maybe hold you, if you'd let him. Spirits, he hoped so...

With a firm resolve set in his jaw, he gently placed the letters back on the lowered table and quietly made his way out onto the balcony where you were still chipping away at dead leaves.

Even though you had no bending abilities, you were still able to feel when something...was off. It was like a shift in the air, a turn; a difference. It brushed against your skin like a breath waiting to exhale.

As noticeable as it was, it still didn’t prepare you for what came next.

"You're still awake."

It was as if the world had gone quiet. The rain, the wind chimes, the distant hum of the city below—it all faded into nothing. Even the air in your lungs had abandoned you.

It couldn’t be…

It wasn’t—

But you didn’t turn to look. You didn’t even blink.

Instead, you held your breath and counted down the seconds, hoping that you weren’t having another waking nightmare. Your mind could be terribly cruel that way. It’s enjoyed making you suffer the long and lonely days and nights with your husband gone, tormenting you with memories and phantom touches of his fingers across your skin. It had this peculiar way of creating illusions that it knew you yearned for, if not to silence the thought of losing him.

Aang.

It was him, you knew it. Like the flowers in your palms, this was real; this, you knew. Except, the greater part of you couldn't bring itself to face him.

It was the months of waiting, of spiraling between anger and worry. It took from you until you had nothing left to give.

So, you said nothing.

You resumed snipping at the leaves, and ignored the sharp breath from behind you. By now, he must have realized. How could he not? You'd left things as they were; the bed, the tea, the letters... Oh, the letters. They were the worst. Surely he'd put the pieces together by now. Every fractured part of you was right there in front of him, painfully bare.

Aang had failed to realize the impact of his absence, but he could see it now.

Things were worse than he could've imagined.

After a moment of silence, he took a brave step forward, testing the waters. He let his footsteps create enough sound for you to hear him, but you did not react.

He stepped forward again, and was now close enough to feel your body heat against his own. His eyes assessed what he could see of you. They went from your tensed shoulders to each shallow breath that you took, and down to the rigid way that you were trimming the leaves. His face pulled into a slight frown. He wanted to reach out and touch you, but he wasn't sure how to go about it. You were upset, he could tell, so he wanted to tread as carefully as possible.

But moments like these were handled as they always were.

Aang grinned to himself.

He knew just how to fix this.

He started off by brushing his fingers against your arm, trailing up until they poked against your cheek. Of course, nothing, but he expected as much. He then placed his chin on your shoulder and continued to watch you before sliding his long arms around your waist, holding you against him. Curiosity stirred in his eyes and deep in his chest as he leaned into you, trying to catch your eyes. You were focused, and agonizingly silent.

Aang pouted.

He'd thought that he could fix this the ol' fashioned way.

Guess not.

"Baby... I'm home. I'm here now. C'mon," he closed his eyes for a brief moment, and grazed his lips against your neck. "Talk to me. Please."

He didn't move away, and neither did you. Your mind spiraled as you tried to ignore him. The part of you that was excited to have him back home, safe and sound, had been drowned out by what had lingered after he'd left you in a period of burning silence. You allowed yourself to feel angry, to feel hurt and abandoned because these feelings were coming from a place in your heart where only he occupied.

You didn't love easily. Falling for Aang happened over time. It’d started purely as adoration that eventually turned into something that you knew would ruin you.

It took work to get to where you were with him. He'd spent years pining and yearning after you, courting you with flowers and big gestures that ultimately ended with him proposing to you. You remembered it like it was yesterday. It was beautiful because he had done it privately, just the two of you. That was what made it special.

That was the moment that you'd truly fallen in love with him.

Aang had always been someone that provided you with love, affection, honesty and communication and, maybe, that had turned into your greatest weakness somewhere along the way. You'd fallen so deeply in love with him that a garden of selfishness began to grow. You'd accepted him as the pillar of peace and balance, but that acceptance slowly festered and turned into a nasty thought that wouldn't go away. It wasn't like he could stop being the Avatar. You knew this, but...

You were so selfish. You loved him. You loved a man that was now your husband but still had to give half of himself to a world that would always need him even when you felt you needed him more.

This confliction within you confused you. He needed someone that was willing to be by his side, accept his duties and still love him all the same. You just didn't know how to do that without wanting him all to yourself.

This love for him... It weakened you, and it exposed him. If he decided to choose you over the world one day, what would happen then? Would there even be a world for him to love you in? Would it not go back to the days of chaos and madness? The founding and building of Republic City would be for naught and would fall without his constant influence and protection.

Was it not better this way? To swallow your deepest and darkest feelings lest they come to light and destroy all that you and Aang had built for one another?

A pain twisted in the maze of your heart, settling like a rock in the ocean. Maybe the answer was simple. Maybe it was an answer you knew you wouldn't like.

You paused what you were doing, staring down at the shears clutched in your hand.

When you spoke, you felt his fingers twitch against your stomach.

"Welcome home."

Aang knew he should have been happy. You were talking to him again. However, it was not in the same way that he had become so greedily accustomed to. Your tone was flat, your body was stiff and you still weren't looking at him. His stomach felt twisted in knots. He must've really fucked this up.

The last time you were this upset with him was when he had told you that he was going to the fire nation for a briefing with Zuko and the fire nation council members. There was a border issue that needed addressing and the group behind the incident demanded to speak with the Avatar only. He'd promised you that it was not going to be long before he came back home, and that he would be careful. Except when he did come back home, he was in worst shape than when he'd left. It'd scared you and you told him how the thought of losing him made you feel.

That was the first time, since marrying you, that he'd come to truly realize how deeply and utterly in love he was with you. How it, too, would kill him if anything were to happen to you. It was one of the bigger reasons why he didn't mind being the Avatar. If it meant keeping you safe, then he would choose this path in each and every single lifetime.

Even if it meant having you angry and upset with him more often than not. Much like now, except this...this felt different. He wasn't sure how yet, but it did.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered near your ear, looking at the side of your face like a kicked puppy would. "I mean it. I know I made you worry, and I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Those words...

It won't happen again.

But, it would, wouldn't it? And you knew why.

When he felt you untangle yourself from his arms and step back from him, he felt his body wash over with sand, pulling him down until it nearly suffocated him from the inside. Rejection sat heavy within him, too heavy for comfort. Then the frown on your face, the hurt in your eyes and the way you looked at him.

Spirits, he truly hated that look.

It made him inhale, feeling his head swell with an emotion that he couldn't quite place.

"Sorry?" You closed your arms around yourself, and shook your head. "No, Aang... You have nothing to apologize for. It's your duty, as the Avatar, to put the people first. The Denied needed to be taken care of. I...understand this now. It's fine. We're fine." Your eyes fell to the city beyond you, watching the rain scatter across shutters and the rocky pathways of the streets. "Just fine."

You could tell that he didn't believe you. Spirits, you didn't believe you. It almost made you cringe, but you tried to school your features to remain as neutral as you were able to.

"I don't believe you."

Your eyebrows twitched.

Aang stepped towards you, fully expecting you to step back again. When you didn't, he released a breath. Relief acted like a sedative to the rejection from a moment ago. Better, he thought.

"If you were fine, if we are fine, then you wouldn't still have that look on your face."

"What are you talking about?" You asked, your eyes finding his again.

The way he was staring at you now, it made you feel so exposed. You never could hide parts of yourself from him. He was very good at seeking them out and making you lay them all out where he could see them, plainly; openly. It unnerved you when you knew he was right to.

When he said your name, it was under his breath and there was a rhythmic tic in his jaw. He looked as if he was trying to keep his composure, but the shiver that ran down your spine could not be ignored. You swallowed, and pushed your teeth into your lip.

"Don't do that."

His tone dropped quietly, familiar in a way that unsettled you more than if he'd raised his voice. It sounded practiced, like something that was said to you during moments where he felt you slipping away from him emotionally, and instinctively reached out to pull you back.

Your breath stumbled over the next.

"Do what?"

His lips pulled into a half smile, his eyes darkening.

"Act like you don't know what I'm talking about. How long have we been doing this now? How many years have we danced this dance?" He took another step forward and you'd only realized, just now, that there was nowhere else to go. The closer he got, the more you had to bend your neck back to look at him. Was he always this broad and imposing?

"I know you," he continued, peering down at you, only a few inches from you now. "I know your ins and your outs. I know what you sound like when you're happy or when you're all sad and angry at me. Or..." He looked over you, finding the gown that you had haphazardly thrown on earlier to be quite...transparent. His smile turned into a smirk. He didn’t need to say it. You knew.

A breeze whirled between the overwhelming heat of your bodies, caressing the front of your gown, prompting your nipples to peak against the thin fabric. It was him; he was always the wind. An unnatural current of air that moved around you, against you. It shouldn't have been possible, but nothing was impossible for him. He knew you knew this. He tended to use that to his advantage, and sometimes it worked.

Another inhale, and you could feel a bit lightheadedness coming over you. Breathing should have made this easier. It did not.

Without knowing it, he was unraveling you, seam by seam. You could feel it.

There was no more fighting it.

"You always do this," you tell him, shaking your head. "You think you can say a few words to turn me on. Touch me a certain way and smile at me, and suddenly things are back to being okay between us. That's not going to work this time, Aang. I'm sorry but its not and maybe, that's how things should be for us."

You moved past him to go inside when you felt his hand close around your wrist, pulling you back. With a stumble, the front of your body collided into his. He searched your eyes for a moment, letting you stand in a pocket of silence before he spoke again.

"And what if I don't want things to be like this between us? I mean, I know I was gone for a while but I'm here, aren't I?"

He thought that he understood you. He thought that he knew you better than you knew yourself but again, he was wrong. How could he not see this part of you? A part of you that had been there, all along. Did he not know you the way that he thought?

“You don’t get it,” you let out a humorless sigh, struggling to process what you were hearing. “I was so worried about you, Aang. Do you know what it’s like to be so far apart from you and to not know whether you’re okay or not? I know you can always take care of yourself but I also know you’re not invincible. You like to make these rash decisions that put you in the most dangerous situations. So, not hearing from you for months and for you to just show up, out of the blue, thinking a bit of humor and soft touches just…fixes things?”

Aang’s hold on you tightened rather than loosening to let you go. It wasn’t like you were fighting him but you grounded him, even when you looked at him like he’d said or done something completely unforgivable.

Well…maybe he did.

In fact, the time that he’d spent not writing to you was time that he took to focus on his mission. He figured that the less time he spent on constantly writing to you and worrying you with every single detail that was going on, the more time that he would have to get what he needed on the Denied. The sooner he could return back home to you. Except…it would seem that no matter what decision he’d made at the time, it would’ve still been the wrong one.

Why couldn’t you see that? Why couldn't you understand that what he'd done, he'd done for you?

“So you’re saying that this is my fault?"

Your eyes widened in the reflection of his whirling grey ones, feeling your skin prickle as gooseflesh settled over it. The air around you whistled through the tension between you and him as if it was preparing for its final curtain call.

The ridiculousness of his question froze you.

Even the way that he was looking at you. Gone was the boyish gleam in his eyes and the soft touch of his arms around you. In its place were hardened eyes and rigidness in the palms of his hands. He did not release you nor did you look away.

“You say that like it’s a question.”

“Yeah, because it is.”

Your eyebrows furrowed with the hitch in your chest.

Breathing had never felt so agonizing.

“I don’t understand–”

“Yeah. I know. Me neither."

Finally, his arms dropped back to his sides and when he pulled away from you, it should’ve brought you a sense of relief. It did not. It only made you feel colder than you already were.

Calling him the Avatar…

You’d never done that before. In fact, he held nothing but memories of you seeing him as just your husband. He found that he didn’t like it. Not when it came from you, someone he loved more than anyone in the entire world and was comforted by knowing that when he came home, he could just be himself. Just Aang, without the weight of the world sitting heavy on his shoulders as the Avatar.

Aang sighed, and turned to face the railing of the balcony, eyes hard-set on the night covered city. His hands rested on the wood, gripping it until the whites of his knuckles pressed taut against his skin.

“Out there, I am suffocated by the world and its expectations for me. I know I’m not like other people. I have a duty, a responsibility to all of the nations to be this symbol of peace and be a protector of it but sometimes… Sometimes I regret ever being found in that iceberg.”

Despite the frantic thoughts that consumed you and screamed at you to say something, you forced it all back and chose to remain silent.

The lantern light stretched across his back, illuminating the tension coiled through his shoulders. The smooth but ripped skin moved against tendon as he let his head drop, and closed his eyes to let his body expel some of the tension that hid between the grooves of his shoulders and spine.

“I am tired, my love. So very tired and I have not even fulfilled half of what is expected of me.”

Finally you felt the pull to willingly move towards him, but your feet stayed planted where they were. He looked as worn down as he'd sounded. His slouched form, the bags underneath his eyes and the weight of responsibility that still sat on his shoulders. It almost made you feel bad for how you were acting. Almost.

“Aang,” his head turned to your direction but he did not look at you. It was enough. “I know the duty, as the bridge of both worlds, comes with a lot of weight." He winced, knowing what you really wanted to say. "I know that most days, you just want to spend them looking for more airbender relics at the air temples, but you have to think about the people. The world. They need you–”

“Why do you sound like Katara?”

You stopped, and blinked.

“What?”

Aang let out a heavier sigh this time, then fully turned back around to you, his dark brows knitted together.

“You sound just like her. I mean, what’s next? You’re going to tell me that I’m the Avatar? You don’t think I know that by now?” He asked you, gesturing a hand across the length of his body to point out the obvious. There was a new fire stirring in his eyes now, something you didn’t often see. He looked like he, too, was unraveling. “And what’s up with you calling me that anyway? Avatar. You never see me as just that so what’s changed? Is my absence the reason?”

He was talking too fast, saying too much. You couldn’t keep up.

He clenched a hand around the railing behind him, if only to steady himself. There was a storm brewing in those grey eyes of his. Fires that looked like it would take more power than you had to put out.

Maybe it had something to do with the way he was getting all defensive that made you finally snap back.

“Don’t pull that shit with me, Aang.”

Your chest heaved with each passing word, feeling the sting behind your nose and eyes. You didn’t want to get all emotional, but fuck it.

“You’re a hypocrite. You’re a fucking hypocrite and I’m sick of it. I know the things that you think but won’t say. At least, not to my face. How selfish I am with you. How I don’t care enough about the people, the cause. How I’m not supportive enough of you. Now I give you just that and what? Suddenly I’m a different person? That's bullshit, and you know it.”

For a moment, Aang allowed you to fill up the space with your anger instead of his. He practiced great strength in his patience and a certain level of understanding when it came to you. Usually, it was why things stayed good between the two of you. Naturally, there were differences. That came with the territory of being different people from different backgrounds.

Even so, he hated when things got like this between you and him.

“Don’t talk like that with me,” his tone was stern and curt, but still had that brush of calm that you tended to love about him. Except, this time, it was like the flood gates had opened. You couldn’t stop, even if you truly wanted to.

“I’ll talk to you however I want. You don’t own me, Aang.”

When you stepped closer to him, it was like you could physically see the way he was trying to hold himself back from reacting. His knuckles went white again and the dip in his brows deepened.

“This entire marriage with you has been so confusing. It’s been full of emotions that I never knew I had to prepare myself for. Had I known…” Your eyes fell away from his. “Maybe I would’ve… maybe I wouldn’t have…”

Before you could even think about how to finish that sentence, Aang was on you. One hand flew to your jaw, curling a few fingers under your chin to pull your gaze back onto his while the other hand tugged at your hip, pulling you against him.

Once again, you were suffocating in the aroma of everything that made Aang who he was to you. The scents were comforting, but it did nothing to thaw the ice corroding your heart now that you were forced to look at him.

Aang towered over you with ease, his back slightly curved and his wide yet still darkened eyes never left yours. He should’ve backed down. He should’ve let you speak, but knowing what you were about to say… It would’ve broken him into a million pieces. He would have much rather died than hear anything like that come from you. Easily.

“What is this, this fight in you? Where is this coming from? You’ve never been this angry with me. Have I really been gone that long?”

Your face twisted like there was something foul on your tongue.

“Why do you still not understand? This isn’t about the stupid mission–”

“Okay, then tell me.”

He searched your eyes again, frantically, hoping that he would find his answer there. No matter what, it was as if you'd closed him off. Not even through your eyes could he see what you were thinking. Another pang in his chest.

Your vision of him began to blur. When did you start crying?

“I think…I think I lo…” It felt like a rock was lodged in your throat. You swallowed what you could down, and breathed. "I think I love you too much, Aang, and that’s the problem. Katara was trying to tell me–”

“I knew it.” His face fell into a hard line, if that was even possible.

You sighed, shaking your head in his hold. “No, she was trying to help me–”

“Help ruin this marriage? Yeah, I’m sure she was just trying to help.”

With that, he started to pull away. This time, you were the one to pull him back.

“When did you start villainizing her?”

Aang glanced at you before dropping his eyes to the floor. The flex in his jaw was fluctuating now, as if it was trying to weigh what was morally right and what was wrong. Usually, he could keep a handle on his thoughts before speaking. It was easier that way because it kept him from saying something he knew he would regret.

If only he'd done that now.

“Since she started meddling in our marriage.” He peeked back at you from the corner of his eyes, frowning again. “Filling your little head up with crazy ideas and these…” He shook his head. “All of these misconceptions.” He looked away again, finding a new outlet for his anger and confusion. “I knew she wasn’t over it. I just had a feeling.”

At the mention of old wounds, you gripped at his arm, not realizing how your nails dug into his skin. He was too deep in his own thoughts to even notice.

“Are you serious?” At that, he met your eyes again and saw how he had made things worse for himself. “She’s your friend. How could you say that about her? And she’s engaged, for spirits’ sake!” His eyes flinched at your tone, feeling his heart drop. “Or did you forget that too?”

Aang knew he always had this way about him. How he tended to stuff his foot in his mouth, and didn’t realize it was there until it was too late to take it out. He’d messed up. Being gone without reaching back out to you in those few months was now the very least of his worries.

You let him go and ran a hand over your face, trying to reel your emotions back in before you also said something that you knew you would regret.

“Maybe we should head inside, and get to bed. It’s late. You just got home. I don’t want to fight any more than we already have.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Forget it,” you waved it off, letting out another sigh before you turned your back to him. “I’m tired. I just want to sleep.”

Aang’s shoulders deflated. All of the anger that he’d felt moments ago had dissipated into thin air. His body felt numb with too many emotions to place but the one that he couldn’t ignore was knowing that he had hurt you more than he ever had.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He was meant to surprise you, pull you into his arms and kiss you until sleep took over. He never wanted to fight with you, but this was worse than a fight wasn’t it?

Was the marriage itself on its last and final thread? How could he fix things from here or was it too late?

He should’ve let you walk through those doors. He should’ve let you retire for the night. He’d caused you enough hurt, it was understandable, but Aang started to realize another thing about himself.

He found it hard to watch you walk away from him.

As soon as you started to walk away, you heard a low thump. Worried that Aang had jetted off for the night, possibly off to sleep somewhere that wasn’t right next to you, your body swiveled around with your lips prepared to call out for him when you saw it. Saw him.

Your eyes lowered.

His knees were pressed into the floor, his head hung low and his hands were loosely balled into fists on his thighs. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. He looked defeated, like there was nothing else he could say to fix this between you and him.

So, he figured that the next best thing was to beg.

“Baby… Forgive me… I was out of line. Way out of line.”

His voice was so low, it was almost hard to hear him. You stood standing where you were, your arms by your side. You felt your heart melt in the worst way. He’d never done this before. Well, not in this sort of situation, at least. A man as powerful as him had decided that it was best to meet you on his knees rather than let his bruised ego get in the way.

All you could see was the dark blue arrow that led to his forehead. From his raspy tone, being on his knees and knowing that he was silently giving you back your power—it stirred something inappropriate between your thighs.

Inappropriate because was this really the time for this?

“I’m an asshole. I know that, and I haven’t been all that fair to you. I know that, too. As my wife, you understand what it means to stand by my side through the toughest of times and I love you for that but I have not really seen it through your eyes. I know it’s hard being the Avatar’s wife.”

He sighed to himself.

“Not to mention the fact that I kept telling myself that if I stayed focused on the mission, I’d get home faster. I'll admit, it was the wrong call and I realize that now. I stayed gone for months, and you got nothing. I…I understand how you felt.”

You sucked in a slow breath, and held it as you let him continue to speak.

“You want to be selfish but because you’re so kind, you feel guilty for it. Maybe…maybe Katara was right,” you watched the way his hands tightened back into fists. “You don’t know this but she’d once told me that I was holding you back. That you would be freer if I stopped being so selfish by keeping you here. She thought of you as a caged bird and I’ll be honest,” he let out a humorless laugh. “That broke me.”

And it broke something within you.

Katara never acted nor spoke as if she saw your marriage in such a way. She was the most honest person that you knew. Why would she say something like that?

“Aang,” you interrupted, unable to keep yourself from asking. “When was this?”

His eyes looked off to the side, the moonlight catching them in its cool light, bringing out a gleam similar to that of a moonstone.

“After our last fight.”

Ah. So that was it. The fight after he had returned from that mission at the border in the fire nation. Sure, the argument was bad but you never thought it was that bad.

“So you went to her.”

It wasn’t a question. It was just an observation.

Aang’s head shot up to look at you. He looked ready to get back on his feet and crowd you again, but held himself back. His breath hitched.

“Yes. I did, but only because she’s your closest friend here. I wanted to know if I was truly in the wrong and if so, how to fix it.”

The abrupt silence carried with the wind, allowing you the opportunity to think. It wasn’t worth getting upset over, especially when it was a thing of the past. Plus, Katara was close to everyone. She was Aang’s confidant before you. It made sense that they stayed close enough to still confide in one another so that wasn’t the issue. Well, if there was one to harbor on.

Katara was also nothing but supportive of you and Aang. She was there when you two met, when you started to gain feelings for each other, when you started courting and finally, at your marriage ceremony. It sounded like she had been trying to look out for you and your wellbeing. Though, it wasn't exactly necessary considering you were more than happy with Aang and all of his shenanigans.

Maybe a conversation with her was in order...

Be that as it may, you didn’t care about any of that. You only cared about you and him. That was it. Nothing else mattered.

Slowly, you made your way over to him. When you bent down, you grabbed one of his hands and pulled him back up. When he towered over you again with that softened yet hopeful look in his big grey eyes, you took the chance to pinch one of his big ears.

“Ow!” He instantly pouted, and held a hand to his injured ear. “What was that for?”

There it was. That expression on his face that always did make him look several years younger. He grumbled under his breath, trying to massage away the temporary pain while you let out a snort that easily turned into a laugh. He stopped, and looked at you.

Your laugh was like several bells to his ears. Or, ear. The other one was still throbbing so not much was going through that one but it made his heart jump all the same.

When you’d noticed the familiar light back in his eyes, you felt your own sting with tears again.

“I’m not a caged bird, Aang, and you’re not holding me back. At all. I’m here and with you in this marriage because I want to be. I saw a lifetime with you, and I still do. Yes, it hurts when you have to leave for long periods of time. It hurts when you don’t write for months and leave me waiting and thinking the worst. And yet, I’m still here.”

You raised a hand to his face, sliding a gentle thumb across the apple of his cheek, melting at the realization that you could survive this. That the only reason you’d fought with him was because you never allowed yourself to feel how you felt. It wasn’t going anywhere. You still wanted him to yourself but, at the same time, you were capable of sharing him with the world. You’d realized that there was room within you to do both and in a very healthy way.

He didn’t say anything. He let you continue.

A smile made its way to your lips.

“Maybe I can…travel with you? I know you’ve always said it’s too dangerous and that you don’t want to risk anything happening to me but you know I can fight. I can hold my own. I won’t get in the way. That way I can be right next to you and not a thousand miles away. I want adventure with you, Aang. I want to be with you and never be apart unless–”

For the first time in months, when his lips descended onto yours, you could feel yourself breathe. It was as if he’d given you life and built a new way to inhale, knowing that he was there and always would be. It was what your body had been craving. So, you let yourself finally let go of all the hurt and the pain that came with missing your husband and melted into his touch.

There was nothing more that needed to be said between you and him. Aang understood you completely now. You loved him and with that came the longing of wanting to be by his side more than be in a home that would never be able to replace him.

He could do that. He could take you with him wherever he went because no matter what, he would keep you safe. That had been his only fear and reason why he never wanted to take you with him. But, you were not some helpless damsel that constantly needed protecting. He’d forgotten how well you could take care of yourself too.

For a brief second, he pulled back and looked into your eyes, finding nothing but pure love and devotion staring back at him.

He hummed, and pressed his forehead to yours.

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I will never leave you alone again. You go where I go and if I have to leave you back here at home, I promise to write to you every single day. If I slip up, I give you full permission to yell and scream at me as much as you want, yeah?”

A giggle bubbled up as you shook your head, “you are going to be the death of me, you know that?”

Aang released a drawn out whine, and traveled his hands down your sides to your hips. He gripped your waist, giving you a look that said more than what he’d said next,

“In more ways than one.”

He reclaimed your lips, pushing his tongue past the softness of yours the moment you tried to say his name. It fell into a whisper and the wind took it, secretly manipulated by him bending the air around you, pulling you closer until it felt like you were molding into one. This is what he would spend his long nights dreaming of. Being able to hold you, to feel you, to kiss you. To hear your sighs, to feel your smile against his lips and to know that with you, he was whole again. To know that he was not alone, and could be no one but himself.

“Aang…not here,” you mumbled, feeling him spread kisses from the corner of your mouth to your cheek.

You felt a rumble in his chest, finding a faint smirk on his face.

“You sure? I think anyone would feel honoured to watch how the Avatar fucks his pretty little wife. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Your body shivered at the feeling of his fingers drawing your gown up from your thighs, moving around enough so that he'd grazed the lower end of your spine. His lips were on your neck now, suckling and kissing, knowing how easily you bruised. He’d leave as many as possible, just enough to make them hard to fully cover.

Perhaps he had a point. The thought of letting him take you here, on the balcony where anyone might come out on their own in the middle of the night and see the two of you, caused a bigger ache between your thighs than you wanted. Or maybe not having his hands on you for the past few months just made you too desperate to say no to any of his outlandish ideas.

Except, he knew that you knew that was not true.

When you felt him playfully bite at your shoulder, you squealed and pushed at his chest with widened eyes.

“Did you just…bite me?”

Aang said nothing at first. He merely grinned like some rebellious teenager, raising an eyebrow.

“What? Didn’t like it? Where’s all that fight from earlier, huh?”

He reached out and curled a finger around a strand of your hair. He licked his lips, observing the way your breath quickened. It would seem that you were just as needy and as desperate as him. And spirits, if that didn’t turn him on in the worst way.

His hand dropped to your collarbone, sliding his fingers down until they met the edge of your gown that dipped in the front. Slowly, he tugged until he could see more of your cleavage and almost groaned. You made him feel so depraved. Like a rabid, starving man eager to devour. Only you could make him this way. Turn and corrupt him into wanting you more than he’d ever wanted anything else in his life. Nothing could come close to being with you. Simply being near you, in your presence, made him want to be on his knees, serving you in every way imaginable.

You didn’t have to look. You could feel his knuckles skim the side of your breast, your body reacting almost instantly. His throat dried at the sight of your nipple peaking, almost like it was reaching out to him, begging him to touch.

“Aang…”

Your voice was like honey to his ears, so deliciously sinful. It nearly took the power of his past lives to get him to look at you without ripping your flimsy little gown off and taking you against the railing.

“Where?” he asked you, his voice low and broken, barely trusting himself to say much. Else, he feared he would growl at his weakening restraint. “You said not here, so where?”

Aang prayed to whoever was listening that you wouldn’t say the bedroom. He knew himself. He could feel it. The savage within him wouldn’t let him let you make it that far. It had to be somewhere close but comfortable for you because if it was left up to him, he would have you up against the nearest wall and fuck you that way. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger, just let him do all of the work.

His cock stirred.

Restraint.

Before he let his hand drop back down, you grabbed it and smiled.

“Come.”

And he almost did...until he realized that you’d meant for him to follow you instead.

Yeah, well. He could do that too.

Watching you turn and slowly pull him back inside, his eyes glued to the dip in your hips and the arch of your back, made him fully aware of just how much he could actually see through your gown. How it clung to you like a second skin, and moved with the gentle cadence of your steps. Especially when you passed through the warm glow of a few lit candles on the way in. Had those been lit before?

Truthfully, as much as he loved your body, it was how you'd reached for him as if you didn't need to think twice. As if it was your way of telling him that he had nothing left to fear. That you were silently choosing him all over again. It gave him the confirmation that he needed. That he hadn't failed you or this marriage.

That thought brought a certain warmth and haziness to his eyes. It was all he wanted. He hated fighting with you, but he’d misunderstood your feelings. You were only trying to convey that you'd missed him. He just didn't realize how much.

The moment you were about to cross the hearth, he grabbed you by the waist and captured your lips, groaning right into your opened mouth. He didn’t want to think about any of that right now. If anything, he used the long wait of seeing you as his pillar and reason.

He had to have you. There was no waiting to get to the bedroom. He'd waited long enough.

It felt like he was everywhere. The way his tongue brushed against yours, the feel of his hands digging into your waist and how you had to stand on your toes just to stay connected. Your hands moved over the strong ridges of his abdomen and up to his chest, sighing against his lips.

The love that you felt for him went beyond the limitations of the heart. Everything in you, even down to your spirit, knew that Aang was always going to be the one. The only one that could make you laugh, cry and love, all in the same breath.

He was simply and utterly perfection personified.

The kiss deepened, and you could feel it. You could feel the desperation, the longing that had taken place in your absence. How, not being near you, affected him just as much as you. He moved against you like wind brushing over water. Fluidly, purposefully, tracing his fingers up and down your spine to the base where they could spread over the round of your ass.

"Fuck,” he swore under his breath. His rough, raspy voice against your lips almost made you collapse.

He kissed from the corner of your lips to your jaw, down to your neck where he resumed leaving behind a few marks. He didn't want to hurt you but the thought of leaving darkened spots across your pretty skin spoke to him in a way that it shouldn't have. He imagined you failing to fully cover them and someone noticing. Would they be horrified? Concerned?

He smiled to himself.

He couldn’t wait.

Oh, and the noises, the sounds that you were making...

Truth be told, you were going to be the one to kill him in the end. And if this was to be his fate, then he gladly welcomed it with open arms.

"Aang, please," you pleaded, almost pushing him over the edge.

Still, he always did like how pretty you begged.

"Please what?" he asked you, still nipping and sucking at your neck, one of his hands moving to the front of your gown. His knuckles brushed just above the heat between your thighs, sending a chill through your body.

You gasped, and buried your face into his chest, hearing how steady his heartbeat was. He seemed calm, despite how he was making you feel. You just had no idea how close to breaking he actually was.

Months of being without him made your body miss him in ways you didn’t think were possible. It was sensitive to every touch and every breath, keening at the attention it craved for. It made you want to let go and completely fall apart in his arms.

“Touch me,” you breathed and as pathetic as it may have sounded, it didn’t stop you. “Need you touch me.”

“I am touching you, sweet girl,” he said into your skin, smiling softly, eyes closed. “What, you want more?” He felt you nod, and hummed to himself. “My greedy, greedy wife.”

When his lips found yours again, everything around you faded and blurred away into the background. It was easy to get lost in him, in all that he was. With you, in this moment, he was no longer the Avatar. He wasn’t the dependable friend nor was he the savior of Republic City; of the entire world. With you, he had no responsibilities. No one and nothing. He was just your husband, your Aang.

He didn’t rush. He took his time with you, reaching to cup your face and mold himself to you. He felt you quiver, whine and hold him like you would’ve fallen to pieces if not. He kissed you until you felt your head spin. Until he made you feel like you were somewhere else and not in a world where you had to share him. Until you felt your knees touch the soft rug in front of the hearth, and Aang hovering on top of you, his tattooed hands next to your head. Even the sound of the rain waned until there was nothing but the sound of his breath chasing after yours.

With you flat on your back now, Aang could really get a good look at you. Your cheeks were warm, and your lips were kiss-swollen. Part of your gown had slipped down, revealing your skin shimmering with a glow that made his heart squeeze. The mark on your neck was blooming steadily. You wore it beautifully, the gleam in your eyes telling him that you were proud of it even. His chest ached with so much love and warmth, he could hardly contain it.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.”

It was true. He’d met plenty of women, but none held a candle to you. They weren’t worthy comparisons in the slightest. Sure, they held their own unique beauty but you were above that. Everywhere you went, you had a luminescent light about you that made you look so angelic. You also loved with the entirety of your heart, giving away bits of you without caring about what was left. You loved and cared openly, without regard. That made you different, special.

He felt like the luckiest man in the entire fucking world.

As he looked you over, his eyes landed on the jewelry around your neck. He traced a finger along the necklace at your throat. He’d made it for you a while ago; smooth mountain bone carved with an Air Nomad wind swirl, reclaimed glider wood fitted beneath it and tiny bronze pieces. It was meant to mimic the prayer chimes you’d found in the air temple long ago.

Simple, invaluable and perfect, like you. It was also meant to remind you that he would always be with you, even if he couldn’t physically be there. He knew it was not to replace him. Only to keep you company when you felt at your lowest and missed him.

As he stared down at it, he pictured you holding it at random points of the day and crying into it at night. He wondered if you ever took it off even though you’d sworn to him that you never would.

You couldn’t help but catch the distant look in his eyes as he fiddled with the necklace.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked in a soft tone, a hand of yours coming up to brush over the corded bracelet you’d made for him that was wrapped around his wrist.

Pieces of both of you given to each other during the wedding ceremony so many moons ago. While his gift felt like it’d held much more meaning, yours was done through several long and frustrating days. You’d weaved and corded it yourself, despite Katara’s several attempts to help. As much as you could’ve used it, you wanted your gift to be handmade. It felt more special that way but there was nothing truly significant about it.

It was plain cord in a tightly woven fashion. At the time, it felt right because Aang was very simplistic and held no interest over materialistic things. As an air nomad, he was taught not to place value on wealth, extravagance and certain possessions. Thankfully, he didn’t reject your gift but looking at it in the same light that he was looking at his…

“Have you taken this off since I’ve been gone?”

Your eyes widened a bit. “No. Why?”

Aang swallowed, and licked his dry lips.

“Not even once? Not even when I failed to write or you thought that I was never coming back?”

The only reason you’d noticed that his eyes were back on you was because you were already staring at him.

You held eye contact and said, “No. Not even then. Not even when I cursed your name and cried some nights. I held onto it knowing that you would return because you always do.”

The level of faith and adoration that you had in him did something to him that he wouldn’t dare voice out loud. He knew this love for you would be his ruin. It was becoming unhealthy and maddening.

If you loved him, he loved you more. If you put him on some sort of pedestal, then you were the center of his universe and reason for existing. He’d went from believing that his purpose was to the people, to the world as their Avatar. That is, until he met you.

Since then, each breath that he took was for you.

Without you, he was nothing. A ghost walking the earth in service of others, but not living. No, not how he lives for you.

You are the deity in his eyes. The goddess that he prays to on nights that he can spend on his knees, worshipping you from between your thighs. You are his greatest gift, and the greatest weapon to his own destruction. And yet, he did this. He created this. He’d given you all of the power needed to end him because what was a greater tragedy than dying at the hands of someone he loved more than life itself?

“Aang…” your voice brought him back, feeling your hand against his cheek. Subconsciously, he leaned into your warmth and closed his eyes.

You’d always known what his love for you meant and where it came from. Despite the fact that it had happened over a decade ago, Aang was clearly not healed from the tragedy of losing his people. He’d spent years trying to accept it and move on, but you knew the worst of it. It showed through the restless nights full of nightmares, how protective he was of you and how he loved you.

It didn’t concern you the way it did Katara because you understood and accepted that it would always be a part of him. Granted, you didn’t want him to fall into darker places. Yet, instead, you did your best to gently guide him back. If not to remind him that you were not his only reason to live. You reminded him that he needed to come first before you, always.

“You love me so much, I know you do, but don’t let it blind you from what truly matters which is you. I ground you, yes, but you are the epitome of balance within yourself. When you fight, fight for you the way you fight for me. And when you love, love you the way you love me.”

Aang listened because you were right. It was so easy to fall into that place that he held special, just for you. If he let himself think too deeply about where this attachment to you started, he could almost feel the edges of his mind begin to close in on itself. Except, that was where you came in. You quieted the loud thoughts and the burning feeling in his chest that echoed all that he’d lost.

You kept him sane, but he needed to remember that he existed not just for you and the people but for himself too. That he could love you and love himself just as much, at the same time.

“I’ll be better, I promise.”

He turned his head, and placed a kiss to your palm. Another, then another until he held your hand in his, spreading kisses to your wrist before you found him hovering back over you. The way the fire from the hearth danced within the moonstones of his eyes, making them darker than they normally were, it made your stomach curl in want.

“Better,” you breathed and wet your lips, ignoring the way his gaze followed the tip of your tongue. “The way you say that, it’s almost as if—”

“It’s for me, but if I don’t live at least half of my life for you then I don’t know if I could at all.”

Aang parted your thighs with his knee, dropping his eyes down to your chest. He watched as it moved with each passing breath, feeling his mouth water at the sight.

“Earlier…” he started as he leaned down to mouth at your collarbone. “–you told me to touch you. Tell me where.”

He slotted his lengthy body right between your legs, holding himself up to not crush you under his weight but just enough to keep you from feeling how hard he’d been for the past several minutes. Not like he could hide it but the semi dark atmosphere was working a bit in his favor.

His lips moved to your sternum, and ghosted over a nipple. It reacted like he’d hoped it would, reaching out for him again.

Not hearing anything, he glanced up at you and purred against the softness of your breast.

“Can’t touch you if I don’t know where to start, pretty.”

“Aang,” you almost reprimanded, frowning down at him. He figured that you were meant to look a bit more menacing than you did, and it almost made him laugh. You were so cute.

He used the tip of his tongue to swipe up against your nipple. It was warm, warmer than normal and you knew exactly why. It caused you to gasp sharply and wail out his name again, but in a higher pitch. He chuckled.

“You’re not saying anything so I’m going to assume that you’re ready to turn it in for the nigh—”

“Oh, don’t you dare.”

The look you gave him now could’ve stoked the flames next to him. That is, if you were a fire bender. Still, you were a woman of many talents. Talents that he was eager to exploit.

“Then…?” he asked, moving down until his chest met the lower half of your stomach, chin placed perfectly between your breasts. His eyes glimmered with a sudden innocence, nothing like how they were before, and his lips were poked out into a pout.

Your eye almost twitched.

What a little performer.

“I’ve waited months for this, Aang. Just touch me. I don’t care how. Or I’ll just do it without you. Maybe I'll even have you watch this time.”

If nothing else, that got his attention.

Aang’s face paled and fell into a hard line. Before you could protest, your gown was torn into jagged lines, right down the front. It laid in tatters around you, torn apart and utterly unsalvageable. He didn’t meet your widened eyes or the shocked look on your face at all.

Instead, he cupped his hand around one of your breast and closed his mouth over the eager nipple. You let out a long moan, letting your head fall back against the rug underneath you. As if everything about him wasn’t big enough, his tongue covered all that it needed to, not missing a spot.

His throaty sounds of approval made your head spin, yet again, feeling your legs twitch with the urge to close. Except, he was positioned perfectly in between them, keeping them wide open.

When he’d switched to the second bud and used his fingers to tweak and pull at the other, you could’ve cried. Your body didn’t know how to react. It’d been so long, way too long since it felt the touch of another that wasn’t yours. It knew him. It knew his touch like a familiar feeling embedded inside, coded by his hand. Pitifully sensitive and so reactive.

And Aang loved it.

Making you feel good felt like it was a part of his dna. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

Once he’d heard the mutterings of you telling him that you wanted more, he moved further south until he was met with your bare cunt.

He placed a palm just above it and used his thumb to raise as much of you as he could, staring directly at your clit now. It looked terribly swollen and shiny with your own arousal. He felt himself twitch in his pants.

Spirits, if you weren’t going to send him straight to the spirit world early.

He heard you mewl and saw your hips move up, using your body to beg for more this time. He smirked to himself before looking up at you. Like he figured, you refused to look back. Instead, you covered your face with your hands, mumbling about how he should stop staring and get on with it.

“Tell me, have you touched yourself since I’ve been gone?”

When you peeked back down at him, his eyes were back at your clit, massaging around it. He was still refusing to fully touch you, and it started to annoy you.

“Why does that matter? You’re here now. You can touch me—”

“Yeah, but…” Aang stopped what he was doing completely, and maneuvered his arms under your thighs to place your legs on his shoulders. Then, he kissed at the insides of your thighs, smiling into your skin. “Humor me. I wanna know.”

Looking down and watching him give attention to all but where you needed it most made you inwardly sigh. Humor him, he’d said. Fine.

“I did.”

He glanced up at you, clearly amused.

“When.”

“…that night. The same day that you left for the mission.”

A pause. A very long pause, in fact.

“Spirits,” he groaned out your name into your skin, grounding himself with a deep breath. “You’re going to kill me.”

Your clit throbbed.

“Why?”

He took a few seconds to respond, and it was not what you were expecting him to say.

“Because I did too.”

He could practically feel your eyes burning a hole through him, silently wanting him to further explain.

He trailed his lips down your inner thigh until you felt his warm breath just above your weeping cunt.

“After traveling for hours, I stopped at a point and made camp. Leaving you was hard,” he closed his eyes for a moment, reliving the memory. “It’s always the hardest thing I do so, of course, I started to miss you. I didn’t want to trust my dreams to give me what I wanted so I took it instead.”

The way he said that made your legs twitch, and your throat dry.

“When Appa and Momo finally fell asleep, I took a walk. Just to clear my head, you know? Walks usually help me sleep better. Though…” he sighed. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Thoughts of missing you turned into missing your voice, what you were doing, what you were wearing…or not wearing.”

Your breath quickened, knowing exactly where this was going. The mental image that your mind began to paint nearly lit your body on fire.

“I stopped at a tree and just…” he opened his eyes, and saw how hazy yours was. The greys of his darkened considerably. “Well. I’m sure you can imagine what happened next.”

The thought of him getting desperate enough to just…do that in the middle of wherever he was while thinking about you around the same time that you were touching yourself thinking about him…

You couldn’t bare another moment of talking about the past. He was here, seconds away from eating you out. You refused to use that time talking about what was when it could be what is.

“Aang, please stop talking. Touch me or I’m actually going to lose my mind.”

He stopped giving you thigh kisses, his eyes finding yours again, letting his lips curve up into another smirk.

“Yes ma’am,” and focused all of his attention exactly where you needed him the moment he’d laid you down and got into position.

As soon as he covered your clit with his mouth, your back arched and you let out a moan that made him groan right against you. He’d thought about this more times than he could count. Shameless thoughts of him pleasuring you, just like this, and pulling the prettiest sounds from you. Night after night, he laid awake, watching it play over and over. As the days turned into weeks, it only got worse. You made it hard to focus on anything else.

Much like now.

Your fingers plunged into the rug, holding it like it was anchoring you. It was overstimulating. The feel of a hot, slick pressure between your thighs, pressing along your clit, lazily dipping between your sticky folds, parting them for better access. Euphoria, pure bliss rushed through you, coaxing a broken moan that barely made it past your lips when you felt his tongue snake along the slit of your cunt.

"Ah, Aang!"

And the sounds, the slurping and the groaning... He was definitely doing it on purpose. What a little shit.

His name falling from your lips made him grin to himself as he suctioned his lips back around your throbbing clit. He knew that you could come from just this, but he wanted to take it a step further.

Aang let one of your thighs rest completely on his shoulder and traveled his fingers down to your slippery, twitching hole. He teased them up and down, hearing you beg and plead, before pushing a digit inside. His middle finger curled, earning a gasp from you. He hummed into the mess of you, instinctively aware of how to navigate through the warm tightness of your cunt. He'd done this several times, but it always felt like the first. Always felt like a starved-man, unable to get enough of you.

And fuck, if you didn’t taste like the sweetest thing he’s ever had the pleasure of eating.

You wailed and cried out for him, wanting more but not sure what more you could want when it felt like he was giving you too much.

He lapped at you with his tongue and sucked, alternating, as he added another finger. Except, this time he made sure both were warm where you would feel it, just like you'd felt the unnatural heat of his tongue moments ago.

Your body was well on the edge, feeling his pace quicken. He didn't stop, not even when you started to beg all pretty. Once he found that spongey spot inside of you, he aimed for it with each thrust of his fingers and fed on your swollen clit until he could hear your breath hitch and your moans get higher in pitch.

He nodded against you, groaning, "Like that, baby. Doin' so good for me."

"Aang!" you cried out again. "I can't!" he continued as he guided you through it.

"You can, love. You're so close," He said in a husky tone, brows furrowed, and still nose deep in you. "Let me feel it. Let me hear it. Please."

And that was all that it took.

He heard your breath stutter, and felt your walls tighten and flutter around his fingers before the squelching sounds turned into a steady drip of arousal. You'd practically coated his entire hand in it, leaving behind a wet, creamy mess. Your hips jerked, thighs quivering, nearly trapping his head there until you inhaled and exhaled.

For a moment, you didn't move and neither did he. As he cleaned you up with his tongue, you twitched but didn't say a word. You just stared up at the ceiling, your skin clad with sweat and warm with heat from the hearth. The thought of doing this and more here in front of the crackling flame no longer felt like a good idea. It felt like your body was on fire as it came down from its high. There was no way you were going to be able to focus if you didn't move elsewhere.

"Aang..." You called out for him, trying to use your fingers to get his attention. They brushed over his cheekbone then to his jaw. When you looked down, he was just coming up. A smile broke out across your face, your own cheeks warming and not from the heat of the fire. "You are so messy."

He chuckled, and rose to half of his height, settling himself properly between your legs again. He smoothed his hands down your thighs and held your gaze.

"So are you."

And well, he wasn’t wrong. You could feel a warm breeze glide between you and him, making you groan and rest your head back on the rug. From the stickiness, the heat and the way Aang continued to stroke and grip at your legs only made you want more. You’d already admitted to him how selfish you were. Why not raise the bar a bit more?

“Let’s move to the bed. I’m hot and this rug isn’t as comfortable as I was hoping it would be,” you mumbled, letting him tug you up until you were nearly face to face. He was so tall, even on his knees he was still looking down at you. Infuriating, but a turn on nonetheless.

Aang stood up first, and reached out for you to take his hands. You did but you looked down and back up at him.

“Carry me?”

He smiled, and tilted his head.

“Why? Can’t stand on your own?”

Normally, he would’ve just done what you asked but he couldn’t help but tease you. You made it too easy.

Your face fell into a scowl, playfully rolling your eyes.

“Fine. I’ll walk then.”

He hummed. “Poor thing. C’mere.” He bent down and like he would with a child, picked you up from under your arms and held you against him, feeling your arms secure themselves around his neck. Once he’d made sure your legs were also secured around his waist, he kissed your cheek and started walking towards the bedroom. “Such a baby.”

You half-smiled to yourself, looking elsewhere.

“Yeah, your baby.”

“Mhm.”

With Aang’s long legs, it didn’t take him but a few long strides to reach the room. Instead of putting you down, he turned and sat on the edge of the bed, still keeping your legs locked around his waist. Straddling him now, he dropped his arms from your hips and leaned back on his hands, eyeing you down. The intensity in his eyes made your arms loosen but not drop completely. Just lax, staring at him back.

“What?”

He didn’t say anything at first, just continued to look at you. Now that he’d had you fully naked and could see every part of you clearly, there was nothing keeping him from ogling you. Beautiful from head to toe. He just didn’t deserve you. He truly didn’t. And yet, you were made for him. You fit perfectly, in every way of the word.

He was just so happy that you’d chosen him to spend the rest of your life with. It wasn’t because he was the Avatar. No, you’d fallen in love with him as Aang, and that made his heart melt. Even to this day. He just couldn’t imagine what his life would’ve been like without you in it.

Just so completely over the moon in love with you.

You brought him back by trailing your fingers across his face, lightly pinching at his cheek.

“You spend way too much time in here,” you tapped at his temple, making him smile again. “What are you thinking about? Hopefully me.”

Cheeky, he thought before he inhaled and suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning up. His nose brushed yours, earning a giggle from you. But not wrong.

“Yes, you, beautiful girl.” He glanced at your lips, pecking them once then twice. He thumbed at your spine, “always you.”

You fought back a smile, biting at your lip.

“I’ve missed you. A lot.”

“And I’ve missed you so much more.”

The moment felt so perfect, it made you wonder if you were dreaming again. You couldn't help but remember what it had been like for you with him gone. Mentally, it was torture. So, to think that this too was nothing but a dream... Was it really that far-fetched?

But maybe it was the way Aang breathed, the feel of his chest against yours and that familiar glimmer in his eyes that promised you this was no dream. That he was truly here, right in front of you. Kissing you, touching you, and the whisperings of how much he'd missed you. It wasn't in your head. Not his voice, not his scent. Not even the way he filled up the space with his radiance, as faded from exhaustion as it was. It was still him. Your Aang.

"Now you're doing the thinking," you heard him say, feeling him press his forehead against yours.

Your lips split into a small grin, briefly closing your eyes.

"Sorry. Remind me to never think about you again."

Aang snorted. "Hah hah."

You snorted also and broke out into a chuckle, your eyes deep into his. "Seriously though. I know you're tired, but I really wanna...you know..."

"Mm," he took in a breath, ghosting his lips over yours and sliding his hands up and down your sides. "I may be the master of all four elements but I don't think I have the ability to read minds. Especially yours."

You stared at him back, and made a face. He grinned, and kissed you. You didn't hesitate to reciprocate it. A hand of yours nearly made its way to the nape of his neck to pull him closer when you broke apart, still giving him a look.

"Don't distract me."

"Awh, and it almost worked."

"What do you mean especially mine? Are you saying that you wouldn’t be able to read mine? Saying I have a big head or something?"

Aang deeply chuckled at that as he moved his lips to your forehead, laying a gentle kiss there, "No, but since we're on the subject–”

"Goodnight."

"Nooo, I'm joking," he whined, tightening his hold on you the moment that he felt you trying to pull away. You rolled your eyes, trying to keep back a smile. "Stayy."

“Why? So you can bully me some more?”

A bit distracted now, Aang kissed at the corner of your mouth before running the tip of his tongue along the seam of lips, not asking but taking. You let him nudge his tongue in and move against yours. He wasn’t even kissing you and you were already aching and wet again.

You let out a weak moan that was practically a whine, trying to lean in for more. When he’d slapped an ass cheek, you gasped and pulled back in shock.

Aang smirked, “don’t give me that look. You’re being bratty now. It’s not very nice so why should I be?”

Your lips formed a pout.

“Well…I’m sorry. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

He shrugged. “Good.”

“Enough?”

“No.”

“Ugh,” you pulled away from his lap and stood, sighing to yourself.

He leaned back on his hands and watched you again. The burning feel of his eyes on you made your body react as if he’d still had his hands on you. It was maddening. He was maddening.

“Baby,” he called for you in that sweet tone of his that he knew always worked on you. “Come back. You were saying something earlier. Was it about continuing what we were doing in the other room?”

You started to pull on another gown as you answered him over your shoulder.

“Earlier? That was like 30 seconds ago, grandpa.”

Aang groaned, “So mean to me,” and fell the rest of the way, now flat on the bed and staring up at the ceiling.

He didn’t say anything at first so you continued to dress, silently wishing the heat from the hearth could reach all the way to the bedroom. Then again, the upper floor of your home had more space than the others. Which meant it took longer for it to get cool and warm at times.

Once your new gown was lazily tied at the hip, you turned and just…stared. Aang’s eyes were closed. You knew that he wasn’t sleeping just yet, but the lax of his face… It made him look like he was. From the dark fullness of his brows, to the slope of his nose and finally to the soft of his lips that were parted. His chest sunk and rose steadily, his body still as if he was at peace in the silence.

As your eyes drifted lower, you couldn’t help but notice how well defined he was. Years and years of evasive combat training, honing his endurance in stamina and breath control as well as conditioning his mobility to perfect aerial techniques. It came from immense focus and strength that was learned, not necessarily taught.

Aang understood that better than anyone. Despite the fact that he was the Avatar, he learned early on that life was never meant to be handed to him. So he earned it, and perfected himself by doing it all on his own. Once he’d become comfortable with using all four elements, he trained in three until they became as familiar as air bending.

Toned, disciplined and strengthened by all of his hard work truly did pay off, just not in the way he had intended it to.

Honestly, it was completely unfair.

The quiet rise and fall of his chest drew your attention lower, expanding and tracing over defined muscle that was softened only slightly by exhaustion. Even after months of being away, his body still carried that same dangerous balance of gentleness and strength that always managed to unravel you far too easily.

There was not a single part of him built for stillness; not truly. Even laid across the bed in silence, he looked capable of movement at any given moment, like the wind itself rested beneath his skin.

And it did because spirits.

Maybe it was the lanternlight. Maybe it was the relief of having him home and alive where you could finally touch him again, but looking at him now made warmth pool low in your stomach in a way that almost annoyed you.

Because this was Aang.

Your Aang.

The same man that had frustrated you to tears only an hour ago now had you standing there in nothing but a thin gown while your thoughts betrayed you in the most depraved of ways.

You looked at him with a hunger that felt insatiable. Like the moment on the rug moments ago had only lit the fire within you, not put it out.

Slowly and quietly, you crept back up to the bed. You were trying to be stealthy, much like a shirshu. They were patient hunters, and earned their prey by tracking silently while being unsettlingly precise. However, the moment your knee dipped into the mattress, hands found your waist and within half of a breath, you were on your back with a real predator hovering over you.

Did he just airbend—?

Aang’s eyes roamed over your fluttering chest, moving them up to your lips and finally to the surprised gleam in your eyes.

A giggle bubbled from your throat, “You could’ve let me think I had that one.”

“Sorry pretty,” he leaned down and skimmed his nose along the column of your neck. “Maybe next time.”

Giving you a single kiss right at the center, Aang pulled back and was on his feet now. He peered down at you, noticing the new gown that you were wearing. He frowned before pouting, but he didn’t comment. Instead, his tattooed hands glided down your calves until his fingers closed around your ankles. Both of you shared a knowing look before he pulled you right up against his pelvis, helping you lock your legs at his waist.

“Aang—”

“Do you still want more?”

His question caught you off guard, but went right to your aching cunt nonetheless. His arousal felt hard and prominent against you, throbbing with the promise of ruining you. You didn’t dare look down. You knew what you would see. You could feel it.

“Yes.”

His deft fingers languidly pulled at the strings that kept your gown closed, and watched it fall apart to reveal your body to him once again. He caught the groan before it left his throat, opting to clench his jaw instead. The want to be inside of you ruled over his body’s need to sleep away the exhaustion of his long journey back home, back to you. He’d tasted you. Now, he wanted to feel you.

“So beautiful….” He bent down and twisted a bit to the side to spread kisses along your navel and up to valley of your breasts. “So mine…”

Aang reached a hand up to gently twist and tug at a nipple, earning a blissful sigh from you that sounded heavenly through the fog of his mind. He didn’t stop to let you breathe. He shifted his hips so that he could grind his erection directly against the bareness of your cunt, fully aware that it would sully the pants he had on. All for the better, really. The more transparent the fabric became, the closer he felt to you. He could bet all of the moon peaches in the world that you were just as warm and as wet as his mind conjured during the nights he’d spent alone.

He’d felt it earlier when he had his fingers inside you but he was smart enough to know that there was a difference between using his fingers and using something far more sensitive and connecting.

“Ahh, Aang,” you whined near his ear as his lips traveled back up to your neck.

He felt the tip of his arousal snag at your clit, causing him to push his face into your skin, hissing and gripping at your breast. He knew he could end the torturing of all this but there was just something so pathetic and primal about rutting against you like this. Perhaps it was also a result of his hazy mind and exhaustion creeping back in. Or maybe it had something to do with how you sounded whenever his length passed through the soaked folds of your pretty cunt.

Yeah. It was probably that, actually.

Though, as much as he enjoyed the thought of turning your brain into mush from a mere grinding session, he wanted something far more rewarding.

“Hold on,” he told you before pulling himself back. Quicker than he was trying to, he’d shucked off his pants and kicked them somewhere in the dark to be dealt with later.

During the brief intermission, you’d decided to move further up in bed, closer to the wooden headboard. The bed was big enough to comfortably fit several people in it so it was a bit funny when you thought back to the reason it was made this size.

Aang hadn’t always been so tall so his growth spurt shocked everyone. Somewhere along the way, a twin sized bed no longer seemed appropriate. He would always complain about his aching back or the way his legs would practically hang off of the ends. By that point, it was time to upsize.

You didn’t remove your gown completely. You just pulled it up your thighs to rest openly at your waist so that when Aang finally resettled in the valley of them, there was finally nothing that stood between you and him.

Except, when he did join you in bed, he’d noticed that you were a bit too far up and as he rested further down, he tilted his head. You recognized the look in his eyes, and felt your stomach jolt.

“Aang—ah!”

He bended the wind between his palms and your ankles, letting the current pull you down exactly where he needed you. His smirk met your flushed pout.

“Perfect.”

You rolled your eyes, wanting to look away. “Show off.”

The heavy weight of his cock settled painfully present against your cunt, oozing strings of precum that made you hyper aware of how badly he wanted you. Well, that wasn’t the only sign. From his chest up to his face, his skin was flushed. Even through the dark cover of the room, you could see the neediness in his eyes. A swirling grey that quietly confessed how much he’d truly longed for this moment. By the looks of him, you couldn’t even imagine how he was able to survive all of that time away from you.

“Better?” You asked him, feeling him twitch against you.

He simply nodded, lips parted, before wrapping a hand around himself. His eyes dropped down to look at how wet you were while you watched him. Slow, leisure strokes that made the muscles in his arm flex and the veins atop his hand push against his skin. Your mouth salivated, noticing the crease in his brows as he used his other hand to spread your folds apart. Sticky and shiny, and so fucking pretty.

He groaned and tightened his hand at the base of his length, letting out a slow deep breath. When he peeked back up at you, his heart almost stopped.

The way you were still watching him, a hand at your breast gripping and pulling at the sensitive bud with your bottom lip stuck between your teeth—

He must’ve died long before he came back home. This was it, his own little oasis in the spirit world.

Nothing in the entire world could compare to this moment.

And he meant nothing.

“Aang…”

He felt you before he heard you, the softness of your hand brushing his cheek. When his vision reorientated back on you, he saw the gentle smile on your face.

“I’m right here,” you said to him in the same soft way you touched him, grounding him again. “I’m real and here.”

Aang felt you pull at his wrist, tugging him down until the tip of his nose pressed against yours. His hands found themselves caging you, being careful to hold most of his weight. You tilted your head and ghosted your lips over his.

“My perfect husband,” you whispered, his back rippling with shivers that he tried to hide but couldn't. As your hands moved over his shoulders and along his back, you’d felt it. “So good to me…so perfect for me…”

When the tips of your fingers trickled down the line of his spine, he let out a whine that made you clench around nothing. It didn't sound like anything you'd heard from him before and maybe that was due to the time that the two of you had to spend apart. Two months had been the longest, and definitely the hardest. You'd felt the strain of it on your end but realizing what it must have been like for Aang, a man that loved beyond the limitations of the air nomadic ways; it was surely just as painful as a loss.

You'd cried many nights for the spirits to bring your husband back home safe and had the support of Katara during it all, but Aang had dealt with the torment alone.

There was still that lingering tension underneath his skin that he'd made sure to hide well from you but you could feel it; could feel him unraveling. You could tell that he was no longer able to keep it buried inside and away from you.

"Please," he begged you, leaving a trail of kisses from your collarbone to your ear. "Need to be inside you. Please."

And who were you to deny him when you needed him just as badly?

"I think you've kept me waiting long enough," you told him as you reached down the small space between your bodies. Once your fingers wrapped around him, his breath trembled as if he was going to fall to pieces before making it the rest of the way.

He gripped at the pillows underneath you, grinding his teeth together. He was fighting to hold it together. He'd wanted this moment to last, but could feel himself unthreading.

The moment you lined the head of his cock up to your twitching cunt, your hands moved to the curve of his ass and started to push him into you. He gasped into your neck, and groaned when the tip of his cock popped past the first ring of muscle. He shook his head in pure disbelief. You'd felt better than he'd remembered. It almost made him delirious.

Aang swore under his breath, feeling you push him in further. Clenching onto him the minute he split you apart, it almost sent him over the edge.

"If you knew what you felt like being wrapped around me like this," he breathed near your ear, "you'd lose your mind too."

"I know baby, I know," you kissed his cheek and jaw, feeling him fill you up until the fullness of him was all that you could feel. “And you’re doing such a good job…”

There was no escaping him now. No where for you to run or hide. He had you fully pressed into the mattress, arms blocking you in and his cock sunk so deep, it made you move your hands back up to the broadness of his back to help anchor you.

"Mmm, aang, you feel so good inside me," you wrapped your legs around his waist, moaning at how snug he felt. It felt so right, so perfect, you almost didn't want him to move but knew that if he didn't, he wasn't going to last long at all.

Once every inch of him was inside, he took in a breath while you exhaled. You allowed him the time he needed to ground himself before watching him lean up. Your eyes had gotten used to the dark and could see the concentrated look on his face as he moved his hands to your hips. His eyes dropped down to where the both of you were connected, and finally breathed out.

Everything about you drove him insane. Even when you’d finally given yourself to him, every single part of you, he still couldn’t get enough. He needed more of you. He wanted to push his body into yours until he was able to combine your souls into one. Claim your entire essence and being as his, marked forever as the one that saved him from himself.

You were his beaming light amongst the black ocean of his heart.

Where he was once drowning under the weight of all of his responsibilities, you saw him and pulled him out of it. How else could he thank you? Being your perfect-imperfect husband didn’t seem like enough. He wished to pull the stars down from the night sky and hand them all to you because you deserve something no one on earth could give you. Something only he was capable of giving you.

What was that? What was the very thing he could give? Something he hadn’t already given you?

It had to be none other than a promise, a proper promise that he would have to keep for as long as he lived.

He just didn’t realize that he’d known it all along. Known it since he’d made his vow to you the day of the wedding.

You could tell that something was on his mind but you didn’t pressure to ask. Instead, you waited.

Then, his eyes finally found yours again and held your gaze as he said,

“I want to make you a promise. A real one.”

You blinked, and slowly nodded.

“Yeah, okay. What promise?”

Aang’s brows furrowed as he mulled over what he wanted to say, and how he wanted to say it.

It took what felt like minutes before he said anything else, and it was not like anything you had expected him to say.

“I may not be able to promise that the world won’t need me again because it will. It always does, but I can promise that you’ll never have to wait in silence like that again.”

His thumbs rubbed across the skin of your waist, his eyes hard set on yours.

“And no matter where I go, I’ll always find my way back to you.”

Aang knew that he didn’t need to make you that promise, especially considering the conversation from earlier where there was finally a mutual understanding of how both of you felt. Even so, he could recognize how much he has truly hurt you. It wasn’t this one instance but for all of the others in the past. He wanted to make up for it all in a single promise that he vowed to never break.

You were rendered speechless. His wedding vows had been a bit different, vowing that he would always be by your side and would always put you first before any and everything, but not like this.

At the time, Aang did not foresee his duties as the Avatar and founder of Republic City getting in the way of his marriage, but he saw it now and only wanted to reassure you that you would be his true priority; that it was possible to love you and hold the world on his shoulders by doing it together.

He could see it, the tears that started to well up in your eyes and quickly shushed you, leaning down to press his lips against your forehead while holding your face. Your eyes fluttered closed, as his lips moved over each of your eyelids and to your nose.

“Don’t cry, not for this,” he whispered, kissing your cheeks now. “Because this promise to you cannot and will not be broken. Even when I’m long gone, I'll keep it. I promise…”

Your heart sunk hearing him talk like that. Just the thought of it…

“Please, Aang, don’t say that…” You sniffled, holding him back into your arms. This time, with no intention of letting him go. “You’re not allowed to go anywhere, do you hear me? Nowhere but here with me.”

“I know,” he breathed against your lips, staring back at you while using a thumb to wipe at the falling tears. “I just love you so much.”

You could see it in his eyes, the love and the utter devotion that he held for you that was unlike anything you had ever felt from someone. He looked at you like you were all that he could see.

And that was all that you could ever ask for.

“I love you so much more,” your lips pressed against his lips gently, sighing into it, feeling him return it eagerly.

He instinctively began to move his hips, rolling into you without rush but with purpose. The slow drag of his thick cock made you whimper into his opened mouth, your fingers dipping into his back.

He grunted, trailing his lips to your cheek, breathing heavily as he fucked into you deeper. Every inch, every part of you felt like pure bliss, a maze that he wanted to willingly get lost in. He didn’t care about anything else but this, you, being inside you and hearing your pretty moans. The way his name rolled off of your tongue, gasping and holding onto him like you were close to falling apart.

You were going to ruin him.

He bit down into his lip, frowning, as he reached up to hold the headboard above you. Something, anything that could keep him from losing his mind early on because he was close, dangerously close.

He kept his hand locked onto the wooden board, bracing his hulking frame as he began drilling into you with a rhythmic, punishing vigor. Every thrust was deep, deliberate and fueled by the weeks of loneliness and longing he had carried in his soul. He wasn't just fucking you. He was trying to merge with you, to bridge the gap that the distance had created between your bodies.

Aang groaned when he felt your cunt tighten around him and your hips move to match his pace.

“Fuck,” he moaned as his cock drove into you harder and faster, chasing more of you.

You choked out a sob, crying into his shoulder, your body jostling with every deliberate pound into your poor cunt he made.

“O-h, Aang! You’re so good, feel so fucking good inside of me!”

More of your begging, your nails sinking into his back, your cries and the feeling of you sucking him in with each thrust.

Call him a greedy bastard, but he wanted it all.

His movements were reckless, the bed creaking violently against the floor with every heavy impact of his hips against yours. His breath came in ragged, uneven hitches and his sweat slicked skin slid against yours, creating a feverish heat.

“Aang!” You sobbed hearing the sloppy squelch of your cunt with each unforgiving snap of his hips, feeling him directly hit that spongey spot inside of you like he was drawn to it.

He bent and kissed down until his lips found one of your perked nipples, sucking and rolling his tongue around the hard bud until he felt you shake and spill out the most prettiest moans he’d ever heard from you.

Aang was losing himself in you, and didn’t notice when his tattoos began to glow a bright blue hue. For you, it was all that you could see.

With his head lowered, you could see the arrow along his skin flickering until it was stable and illuminating, growing brighter with each ragged breath and slam of his hips against yours. His eyes were closed but you knew that those beautiful greys of his had been taken over by the same blue light.

He was terrifying to most in his avatar state but to you, he’d never looked more beautiful.

The headboard creaked under the sheer weight of his hold as he fucked you, the poor wood wailing and threatening to break under the pressure. He let out a broken groan around your skin before raising his head, his voice sounding a bit off. It sounded overlapped with more than one voice but it was still him. Desperate and filled with an overwhelming need to come as deep inside of you as humanely possible.

Your hands moved from his back to his face, holding him with care to get his attention. When he finally opened his eyes again, all you could see was an endless pool of blue. His brows were furrowed, and his forehead was beaded with sweat.

“Are you close?” All he was able to do was nod, nearly collapsing into your hands, his hips stuttering to signal that he was getting incredibly close. “Good, because I’m going to need you to cum and not pull out. Can you do that for me?”

Even through the haze of pleasure, Aang still made an expression of confusion.

“Don’t...pull out. So you want me to…?”

He left it there, knowing that you understood what he didn’t say.

You smiled, and nodded.

“Yes. Can you?”

Aang didn’t quite understand. Every time that the two of you had sex, you always made it clear he had to pull out. Pouting, he agreed but was never shy about telling you that he didn’t like it. If a baby happened, then wasn’t it meant to be? There was no better way to prevent a pregnancy, other than a certain type of tea, so pulling out was next best. Either way, Aang was not a fan but respected your boundaries nevertheless. Now, you were wanting him to…

"Wanna give you a little airbender, Aang. Would you like that?" You breathlessly asked him, feeling his hips falter at the sound of that. You smiled, stroking a thumb across his warm face. "Would be such a good mommy. Could give you everything you could ever want. Let me do it for you, Aang, please."

And that fucking did it.

Your voice, the feeling of your heated walls clamping down onto him, and you giving him permission to fill you up knowing what might happen; all of it sent him right over the edge.

He groaned out, applying more pressure to the headboard than he had intended and felt it split down the middle. The bed collapsed underneath you, surprising you but you weren't given time to assess what happened when Aang leaned down to bury his face into your neck. You felt his cock twitch and pulsate before filling you up until the mix of his thick cum and your arousal oozed out between you. His hands clutched into fists around the sheets as he tried to control his breathing.

You thought that he was done but his hips hadn't stopped. They just slowed to a steady roll, deep and intentional.

"Aang..." You whined under your breath, your arms wrapped loosely around his neck. Your body was nearly exhausted, but you weren't there yet. Could that be his reason?

He didn't say anything. He just kept moving inside of you, kissing at your neck. He shivered, feeling the way your cunt fluttered around him as your calves slid back into place, ankles firmly locked. He hummed, one of his hands sliding down your side until they reached your thighs to grip at them.

“Want you to cum around me,” he muttered low into the warmth of your neck, lazily smiling. “Can you do that for me?”

When he looked at you, you’d noticed that his greys were back and the arrows along his forehead and his back had dimmed back to their normal blue. It made your face warm.

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he praised, and used his arm to hold himself up while his other hand continued its trek down to your neglected clit. “And don’t think I forgot about her.”

As soon as his middle finger started to draw lazy circles before gradually moving a bit faster while letting his hips roll into you at the same pace, you squealed. You hand instantly reached down to hold onto his wrist as he abused the sensitive little nub, crying out.

“Ah, please!”

Aang was embarrassed to admit but aiming for your pleasure instead of his and watching your face twist up knowing that he was the reason, it made him ten times harder. There was nothing better than servicing you and making you feel good. It was just the simple fact that he had already came.

But who said he couldn’t do it again?

No matter how many times he did this with you, it would always feel like the first. There was just something about being with you in such an intimate way and connecting beyond a conversation or doing anything else together. He was very spiritual and believed that sex was a very sacred act. It was something he would never do with anyone else. Doing this with you, with his wife, felt like the highest form of his love for you.

When he felt your nails dig into the skin of his wrist and your cunt tighten around his cock again, he let out a ragged breath that was mixed with a laugh.

“You’re so tight, it feels like you’re going to cut off the circulation down there.”

You whined out his name, breathless, trying not to laugh at his untimely joke.

“Stop.”

“I’m being serious,” he said, letting another chuckle before groaning out and looking down at you. “Gonna cum, my love?”

You nodded with teary eyes, moving your hand up to his bicep, feeling it flex under your fingers.

“Mhm.”

“Yeah?”

“Aang—”

“Let me feel it.”

He leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours, eyebrows knitted together, fighting to concentrate.

“Please, let me feel it…”

You moaned out his name again and again, your head spinning, being unable to feel anything but his cock fucking into you and his fingers moving against your clit like it was his last day on earth. His whisperings of telling you how pretty you sounded and how much he loved you was all too much. You couldn’t handle it.

With one more sharp inhale and slam into your hips, your back arched and felt a wave of ecstasy crash into you, leaving you trembling and mumbling a string of nonsense that made Aang follow right behind you. You were too warm, too tight, his release spilled into you again, plugged and just as filled as the first.

Both of you stayed just like that, foreheads together and panting into each other as the comfortable silence of the night finally took over.

After a few moments of him trying to catch his breath, he smiled softly and kissed your nose.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”

You were relieved when he moved off of the bed and walked towards the washroom because your entire body refused to move even an inch. In fact, you were very close to falling asleep if not for the warm, damp feeling of a cloth against your inner thighs and over your mound. He knew your legs were going to instinctively twitch closed so he used his hands to keep them pried apart until he finally finished up.

After properly discarding the small towel, he scooped you into his arms so that he could work on the bed.

At first, it took him a moment. Now that he was able to actually see the bed from a different angle, the headboard lowered the bed quite unevenly. The damage wasn’t bad at all, it would just take a few minutes to brainstorm how to fix it. It was definitely going to be a temporary fix, but he knew it would hold long enough for a good night’s sleep.

Still, the idea of him as the avatar, master of all four elements, being humbled by a broken headboard after wrecking it with his wife—it definitely felt like a very comical irony.

But, someone had to do it so, he got to work.

Aang knew that the only way to go about this was to use air to reposition the splintered pieces back into place, or as close as he could, and then smooth some of the rough cracks. Luckily, it wasn’t completely split down the middle so it was fixable. He just knew that come morning, he would need to fully replace the bed.

Once that was done, he moved onto what was next.

As he held you with one arm and replaced the bedding with his other, you couldn’t help but stare up at him. You knew that he knew you were looking at him, judging by the small grin on his face, but he didn’t say anything and neither did you. You just watched him impressively use one arm to do things that would normally take two to do.

Once the bed was replaced with clean linen and warm blankets, Aang gently placed you back down, joining you now. He shifted onto his back and pulled you into him by your waist. You hummed, curving a leg up and over his thighs, your hand across his chest.

The silence continued and just when you were about to fall asleep, you heard the softness of his voice.

“Three days from now, I’ll be leaving again.”

Because it was engrained in your body, your first reaction was your stomach dropping. Still, you calmed your breathing and chose not to say anything. You remembered what he’d said to you earlier. His words on the balcony, his promise to you now, they all meant something. He wouldn’t do that only to lie to you, so you breathed.

Aang could tell that it had shaken you, telling by the stiffness of your body against his. He smiled a bit to himself before his eyes fell down to the crown of your head.

“And I want you to come with me.”

Your head shot up, meeting the playful glint in his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Do you really?”

His hand, that rested at your hip, stroked along your skin, his gaze holding yours.

“I made a promise to you, right?”

He placed a warm kiss to your forehead, making your face split into a smile also.

“I know…but hey! Don’t say that like you have to tag me along!” You pouted.

“I’m not, I swear!” He exclaimed with a brighter smile and laugh that shook his shoulders. “I want you to come with me. I want to travel the skies with you, scour and gather more airbender relics and maybe stop at different places just for the fun of it. Maybe help people along the way, but I want to do all of those things with you by my side this time.”

“Even if it gets dangerous?”

Aang paused for a moment and just looked at you. There was a tiny worry that he was taking the silence to rethink his decision to bring you along when he spoke again.

“You can handle yourself. I know that and when you can’t, I’ll be there to protect you. No matter what we face, we’ll face it together.”

It felt like your heart had crawled out of its hiding hole somewhere in your stomach and had soared right through your chest. It was all that you’d wanted to hear from him. To be able to still love him as deeply as you did and to be able to accept him for who he was to the people of the nations—it was the perfect middle ground. There was never a need to ‘fix’ you or him.

Instead, balance was all you ever needed and you knew you would always find that with him.

Your eyes fell to his lips and back up to the shining grey of his eyes.

“I love you.”

His hand moved from your hip to the nape of your neck, gently pulling you closer.

“And I love you.”

When your lips met, it was softer this time; slower. The kind of kiss that carried understanding within it rather than desperation.

You and Aang knew that there would still be difficult days ahead. That there would be arguments, distance and that familiar sense of fear that came with being the wife of the Avatar. Loving Aang would never come without sacrifice and being loved by you would always leave parts of him frighteningly exposed.

But this—this felt like balance.

Like finally meeting one another in the middle after spending so much time pulling at opposite ends.

And somehow, within the quiet warmth of his mouth against yours and the steady hand cradling the back of your neck, tomorrow no longer felt so frightening.

It felt like a promise for a new beginning.

༄ ... mini bonus scene ! ... ༄ 

The next day was spent making up for lost time.

Which basically means you and Aang barely left the bedroom to eat or even drink water.

Still, despite the time that you'd spent with him, you made sure not to forget about your visit with Katara the next day after that.

When you and Aang arrived, Sokka had answered the door and was happy to see you but as soon as he saw Aang, he'd nearly tackled his taller friend to the ground.

"You're back?! I had no idea you were back!" Sokka exclaimed with a wide smile that instantly turned into a frown, playfully hitting Aang's shoulder.

"Ow?" Aang rose a brow, rubbing his arm with a smile back.

"Don't 'ow' me! You could've let your best friend know you were back all this time, sheesh," Sokka shook his head, scratching his neck. "Some friend you are."

Katara came up next to her brother, and pinched at his ear like they were teens all over again.

"Leave Aang alone. He came back like, two days ago. What are you on about?"

"Sokka," You heard Suki whine in the background. "Give the poor guy a break. He did just come back."

Sokka sweatdropped, looking at the four of you before his eyes stopped on you. He smirked, and fully leaned against the door frame.

"Oh, did he now," He nodded, looking as if he knew something no one else did. "Yep, bet he did come."

Aang's eyes widened and so did yours. That was all Sokka could get out before Katara took him and his ear further into the house, giving him a real good talking to. He'd looked to Suki to help him, claiming that just because they were married, she had to protect him. She only smiled, and continued helping Zuko.

Both of you laughed and stepped inside, seeing Zuko setting up the last part of a banner that said, 'Welcome home, Aang.'

"Aw, guys," Aang pouted at the banner and his friends. "You shouldn't have!"

"Yeah, well, we almost didn't, twinkletoes," Toph grumbled rather loudly to herself, digging her pinky deep off into her ear. "I told them its a complete waste of time. You'll only end up knocking it to the-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Aang used his airbending to bring the gaang all together for a group hug, causing the banner to fly right off of the wooden beam it was expertly attached to. Toph, squeezed right between Sokka and Zuko huffed.

"-ground."

She sighed.

You couldn't help but smile as they all started to laugh, even Toph, catching her shake her head. Suki had her face squished into Sokka's, Katara had her arm around you and Zuko while Aang's long arms nearly wrapped around everyone.

As you melted into the group hug, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else in the world but with your husband and the best group of friends anyone could ever ask for.

༄ author’s end note: tysm for reading! don't forget to tell me your thoughts in the comments and leave a like/reblog! i would lovee to know what you guys think as this may not be my one and only piece of work in this fandom (wink, wink). time will tell... ~

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