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hischeapcigar · 10 months

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𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓌𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝒾𝑔𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓈

Pre-outbreak Joel Miller x reader

Part: 1 2 3 4

Summary: you're falling in love with the person your dad hates the most

Word count: 3.6k ish

Warning: none except your father is a bit deranged so maybe that's all

a/n: it was supposed to be cute little one shot but i think it's gonna be series lolol. reblogs and comments are appreciated. love you mwah

Your dad hated Joel. You never knew why but it had been like this as far as you could think. Your father played the major role in trying his best to keep you away from Joel.

BBQ party? Everyone's invited except Joel.

Your birthday? Everyone but Joel

He’s grumpy all day? Must've had an interaction with Joel

He even hit Joel, who obviously retaliated but the neighbors showed up to resolve the matter.

The whole neighborhood knew. How could they not? Your dad insulted him behind his back, which some entertained, but most of them grumbled and left the room. Because they knew Joel and they knew your dad too.

Even you felt pity for Joel, the few rare interactions told you he may look big and fierce, but he was a charmer. Sarah’s happy face was proof of his kind nature and your anxious state of mind was a reflection of your dad’s nature.

You once tried to defend Joel, but your father smashed the glass so hard, a sharp piece pierced the skin of your foot, leaving a scar.

Your parents always change the subject every time you try to bring it up,

“Its past, it doesn’t matter,” they’d say

But it mattered to you, a lot. Since the small get-together in the field the other night, when you first saw him. Sarah had lost track of his father, so you went looking for him with her, and that's when you first met him properly after like forever.

Eyes locked and you swore brown became your favorite color. Your breath hitched; mouth slightly agape. He mirrored your reaction but both of you let go just as quickly, minding Sarah’s presence. They left but he turned back to bless his eyes one more time, stealing one more glance at you. The smile he slipped, held your heart forever. You prayed to the heavens to let you both meet again.

Working in the cafe which Sarah and her friends called their “second home”, you had befriended all those little girls. It was fun to be around them, and they loved your company.

You never officially met any of their parents but one of them captured your mind since that night. You didn't know what you could do without offending Sarah.

But you didn't have to do anything, because Joel took the wheel as he showed up the next day in the cafe. Sunday meant Sarah and her friends were having breakfast together in their corner spot.

You came out from the kitchen, passing the tray of coffee to your coworker as you absentmindedly made your way to the counter, ruffling around with the drawer and all the papers.

“Hey” your head shot up to the sound of the voice and the unmistakable familiarity it carried.

“Hi” you replied breathlessly, hands frozen on the paper you just grabbed.

“Um, can I please get a pancake?” his thick Texan accent flowed like honey, his eyes warm and eager.

“Y-yeah, sure,” you could bet that you conjured him from your imaginations. Seeing him again in a person in less than a week was unbelievable

You quickly turned around to pass the order to the kitchen window but stopped just as quick, lightly smacking your forehead as you returned to him,

“Sorry, uh, which flavor would you like?” you cursed yourself for being so clumsy

He tilted his head to the side, contemplating, before he turned on his good old charm, “su’prise me, sweetheart,” he smirked seeing the look on your face.

Absolutely flustered at the nickname he just gave you, and how easily it rolled off his tongue.

You smiled, mumbling a little, “okay,” before you disappeared in the back

You took a moment, taking a deep breath steadying yourself. Hoping no one notices your flushed cheeks, and no one did.

In a few minutes, you prepared yourself to serve him. Running a hand on your outfit once smoothing it, you took the tray and made your way to Joel. You were glad he busied himself reading a magazine because if he looked at you, you would have forgotten how to walk.

“Hello again,” you announced, and he quickly abandoned whatever article he was reading,

“Hey” he smiled, looking curiously at the pancake plate you just put down, followed by a cup of coffee

“I didn’t order coffee-”

“It's on the house, since we believe it's your first time and because your daughter is our loyal customer,” you snickered

He chuckled, “I- thank you, so much, y’didn’t have to though”

“Also, i chose strawberry flavor because it’s my favorite so I'm hoping you’d like it too,” you shrugged lightly before taking a step back, leaving him with his breakfast,

Just as you turned to leave, you heard him call your name, and God that was the sweetest music to your ears. You had no idea how he knew your name, maybe sarah mentioned it, you figured

You cocked an eyebrow,

“You looked pretty that night”

Your heart warmed at the confession, “thank you Joel, you looked great too” you smiled before you left

You couldn't keep your eyes off of him. Every now and then your gaze found its way to Joel. Even after he caught you stealing glances, he just smirked. He knew what he was doing to you, you knew what you were doing to him. A game for two.

You had your back on the counter, conversing with your coworker, when she pointed behind you. You turned to see Joel standing there, ready to leave.

“Thank you once again, I loved the pancake, though I can’t tell if it's my favorite”

“You could come by every week to try all the flavors until you find your preference” you suggested. Any excuse to bring him back.

“Tryin’ all the flavors, huh? I had another reasons to come back anyway, might as well try all the other flavors” smile tugging at the corner of his smile

Oh.

You didn’t even get the chance to response when he added, “hey ya mind, if y’get the uh, the cup?” he nodded to his table

“Yeah, sure” you were confused, why would he tell you what to do?

You went anyway and now you know why as you looked at the tissue piece with his number scribbled in a messy handwriting

Such a flirt. You smiled so widely your jaw hurt.

“Is this Joel or some cute stranger left a wrong phone number on the table?”

You read it for the thousandth time, indecisive if you should send it or is it a bold way to start a conversation. But then it’s Joel, he wouldn’t mind, you thought and hit send.

Your heart was beating fast, wanting to throw your phone across the room. Checking every other second if he replied, then a few minutes later,

J- “Stranger? I thought we were befriendin' each other”

you giggled at the response, feeling like a young teenager having her crush moment

“Well, we’re getting there”

J- “That so? Hope you realize your dad isn’t really my fan”

“Yes, and I wonder why” curiosity creeping back up at you,

J- “We got into a fight back then during a job we did, since then we just couldn’t get along”

Now was that too hard to disclose? Your parents were just dramatic, you thought.

Before typing your response, he started typing again so you waited,

J- “Wish it doesn’t change our sweet journey of becoming friends”

you read his text, wide grin plastered on your face , though a little disappointed that he only wants friendship, but you felt giddy nevertheless

The next week was the beginning of your new, fragile relationship. Joel would stop by at your cafe any chance he got.

I missed my morning coffee (he missed it on purpose)

I’m tired and I thought coffee might help (he just wanted to see you)

Sarah and her friends wanted pancakes (he asked them, “you guys don’t have to go, I'll get you your order if you want” he’d say and gets “okay, Mr. Miller!” “that’s so kind, Mr. Miller”)

Weeks went by, and you grew to his presence at random hours. You started to look forward to him showing up randomly. Your coworkers were quick to welcome him, noticing how your face would light up every time he was around.

He made a three-day streak of visiting before he didn’t show up for 2 days. A part of you wanted to text him to find out if he was okay, but you wanted to give it one more day, and you were not even sure about the thing you both had going on.

You were preparing the order, Oliver standing next to you, working on his order and occasionally making you laugh with his corny jokes when Gina, another coworker, showed up at your side, pulling you away from your half-done coffee,

“I’ll take it from here, go and deal with your favorite customer” she nudged your side,

You couldn’t help but let the smile make its way to grace your lips, but you had to play dumb,

“What?”

Gina gave you the stare that said really?

You snickered as you left, your heartbeat quickening, exhaustion already leaving your body as you saw him sitting at his usual spot, the corner table that nobody likes, so it’s always available, your favorite spot since him.

You reached him and instead of staying seated as usual, he got up and walked closer to you. It has been 2 days and you didn't know how much you missed him now that he was standing in front of you, all you wanted was to hug him and never let him out of your sight.

He took one more step towards you, maintaining eye contact as he slowly raised his hand to your waist and pulled you into him in one swift motion. You stiffened at first, then you locked your arms at his nape melting into his big frame. You took a deep breath like this was something you were missing all your life.

“Hello to my favorite customer,” you smiled at him when you detached yourselves from each other

“Hello to you too, my sunshine,” he replied, matching your smile

You both returned to the table, and he slid a small bag towards you, you didn’t have to open to know what was inside, strawberries, as he started getting you those ever since you told him that strawberries were your favorite.

Whenever you got free from your morning shift, you two would sit in the reserved area of the cafe just to talk. That’s what you both did. Talk about everything and anything. You didn’t need to pretend, you were completely yourself around him, and he, with you.

He kept buying you strawberries because you loved them. And in turn you would treat him with extra cup of coffee on random days

Any little time you spent together felt like an escape from reality and everything it offered. There was no toxicity, just pure, innocent and effortless conversations along with different flavors of pancakes.

Sarah admired Joel showing interest in your company. She wasn’t young enough to see how happy you both looked, and she was genuinely glad about that. She would even make excuses for Joel to come to the cafe,

Hey dad, can you please bring my notebook, I forgot it on the table and we’re discussing something

And boy would he be beyond happy whenever he gets the opportunity to show up at the cafe.

But like waking up from a really good dream,

Joel had just entered the cafe, standing on the counter, chatting with you (not blocking the way of customers) while you received orders when your eyes went wide at the figure entering through the door,

“What is it?” Joel asked casually

You ducked your head, “its dad” you whispered and saw how Joel’s face fell. You both knew you weren’t allowed to hang out with Joel, let alone be around him.

Suddenly his demeanor changed as he cleared his throat, looking down at the menu card, feeling your dad approaching. You managed to keep a serious and bothered face as you saw your dad stopping deadly in his tracks as he saw Joel. oh boy

“There are other cafes in the town” your dad grunted, indirectly referring to Joel, who only rolled his eyes in response.

You bit a smile at his reaction, “hey dad! Didn’t know you were coming” you tried to alleviate the thick tension.

Your dad gave you a tight nod, “yeah, get me two blueberry pastries; your mom called”

Never the friendly face, annoyance etched on his face like it was there since he was born. Your father was exactly the kind of customers you hated. Acting like a boss, like you owe a million dollars.

You looked between two of them before you left to get the box. On your return, you didn’t spot Joel. You frowned, wondering if your dad had said something to him. Your thoughts were cut short by your dad;

“No need to serve him, tell him to go any other cafe, there are plenty of them,”

You were speechless, he was being absolutely ridiculous.

“Wha- dad? He’s just a customer, you can't bring your years’ old absurd beef in this-”

“Do as i tell you, and if you can’t, then leave the job, you can do better anyway” he threatened in low voice, pointing his finger at you, before leaving

You knew your dad was overreacting but you kept your mouth shut because you knew he wouldn’t care about the people and just shout on you if you disagreed with him

It was midnight, your mind was running a hundred thoughts a minute since your dad showed up today. You had no idea how to tell Joel to stop coming to the café, like how could you stop him when it made you the happiest?

“Hey, you awake?” you texted joel

He didn’t reply for 10 minutes, then your phone chimed, you quickly turned it on to see his text,

J- “Yeah, I'm up, why aren’t you asleep yet?” he replied

“Wondering what dad told you today at the cafe” there was no filtering when you were with Joel, sharing every piece of your mind and not regretting it

J- “Except telling me to not ‘roam around you’ he didn't really say anything”

You were embarrassed, why did your dad have to be like that? you felt bad for Joel

“I’m sorry” you sent before typing “I just wish he wouldn’t stop you from the cafe, your presence feels natural there”

J- “Don't be sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mind it at all. He’s only looking out for you; we'll figure it out. plus, I think I can sneak in when I get the chance ;)”

You scoffed at his text, looking out for me? More like suffocating me from things that I actually like. But you felt affection for him in the way he was willing to be with you.

It had been a week, he showed up two times. Two times. A day apart. Then he disappeared for the rest of the week.

After the 3rd long day of him not showing up, you started to worry. Two hours of constant contemplating later, you decided to text him,

“Hey, Joel”

It's Sunday afternoon, 2pm. Not that Joel would have something to do so you wait for his text. You toss and twist in bed, smoking cigarettes, reading old magazines, scrolling on your phone, an hour later, there was no reply.

4 hours; nothing.

8 hours; nothing.

Next day, beginning of next week. You passed by his house, praying to get at least a glimpse of him but there was nothing.

You didn’t even see him on the streets, not with Sarah, just nowhere. As if he didn't even exist.

Still your ears pricked up every time you heard the door to the café ring, desperately hoping it was Joel, but it was never him.

Sarah and her friends were seated at their accustomed table. It distressed you to see Sarah, not knowing how to go and ask her about her dad.

It upset you even more when Gina asked you about him every other day, and more hurt when you had to lie, like “oh he’s just busy,”

But Gina knew better when she saw you with pity in her eyes, that look that told you, I'm sorry he ghosted you.

You had to hold back your tears to keep her from knowing that she was right.

But you broke down the second you locked the room to your room, lighting a cigarette, you placed it between your puffy red lips as the tears streamed down your cheeks,

“Where the hell are you, Joel?” you hit send and threw your phone as you sat on the windowsill, watching the cars go buy,

You got out of the bathroom when you heard your phone ding, you all but ran to the bed, grabbing and swiping it on,

J- “Yeah, just around. How’s everything?”

You were taken aback by the carelessness. As if it wasn't bothering him, as much it was bothering you. As if he didn’t miss you at all like you did. As if it all didn’t matter. As if you didn't matter

“Really? You ghosted me for two weeks and now you're acting all chill?” you replied

Frustration getting the best of you, you wanted to cry again.

J- “Look, I think it’s best for the both of us”

“Fuck what you think, fuck you” you sent

You could feel the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. You threw your phone on the table before falling on the bed, face first.

The next thing you know is you're sobbing, muffling the sounds with the pillow on your face. You didn't realize how much you were attached to him until now, you didn't know how much you wanted to be with him until now.

You got up to smoke a cigarette to release the stress, but you cried while exhaling puffs of smoke in the air

Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him

The next two days were a blur. You avoided spending extra time in the cafe, avoided conversations with your coworkers because they ended up asking about Joel. Your father picked a fight with a random guy just because he took longer to deliver some equipment that he ordered online; it was stupid really. You avoided Sarah too, because she painfully reminded you of Joel

I'm only giving it time, I'll get back to normal eventually, you’d tell yourself

The third day, you were brewing coffee when your phone vibrated, turning it on, your heart dropped to the stomach as you read Joel’s name on it

Quickly you swiped to view the message,

J- “Can we talk?” you felt anxiety rising up. A part of you was excited that he texted while the other part of you was furious, he can't just come and go as he pleases

You were lost in your thoughts when you received another message, J- “please?”

You decided to let things be, he ghosted me for a week, now he wants to talk, he can't expect me to go back running

Putting your phone down, you carried on with your work until it was night.

You closed the cafe as you stepped out, you saw a familiar truck parked beside your car.

Unmistakably Joel.

He stood there leaning against his truck, cigarette smoke around him like a halo. He pushed himself up as he spotted you and he made his way to you.

You stood there frozen. Resisting the strong urge to go and hug him and never let go. But you stood there and waited,

He came close but didn't stop until he was only a few inches away from you. Looking at your face, examining it, eyes running all over your features,

“Sarah said you looked horrible, but God you look worse,” he whispered. Scared if he talks loudly, this all would shatter,

“Like you care?” you retorted.

That's when you saw in his eyes. Regret. Remorse. Before he hung his head down,

Slowly he reached for your hands, hanging on your sides, silently interlacing your fingers. You didn't stop him. You couldn’t

“Please, can we talk?” his voice was small as he looked at you

You nodded

He released a breath, that even he didn’t know he was holding, as he nodded too

With your fingers still interlaced, he tugged you toward his truck. You both walked the distance, hand in hand as you felt droplets of water kissing your skin.

You went rigid making Joel turn and face you, watching you wipe away the water beads from your face. A few more drops on both of you before the rain lashes down.

Joel instinctively became your human shield, as you both ran towards his truck, even though that wouldn’t keep you from drenching, but the action was so Joel. Reaching there, he quickly opened the door for you before getting himself inside from the other side.

Both of your breaths were ragged as you sat in silence.

He ignited the engine bringing his truck to life,

“Where are we going?” you broke the silence

He sighed, “I- uh, had tis place in mind but,” he looked out the window, at the rain, “‘s rainin’ so we can stay in the truck, I guess,”

“What place?” you were confused,

“Y’gonna love it, trus’ me” a small smirk growing in the corner of his lips

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Part: 1 2 3

Tags: @strawberri-blonde

#im never getting over #joel miller #or #the last of us #soft joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us

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akoyaxs · 6 months

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˚༄ Tìwäsul

✮ Meaning: competition ✮ Requested by: ⛄️ and 🪐 ✮ Pairing: Aonung x fem!metkayina!warrior reader ✮ Warnings: rivals, smutty smut, fluff, p in v, Aonung is a munch, pining ✮ Word Count: 10.3k

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It first happened when you were kids. The first time that stupid skxawng beat you, and it never seemed to end. You knew you were just as talented, just as ferocious, just as determined, but he was always just larger and stronger. It probably also helped that he would be Olo'eyktan.

So year after year, after every fight, every hunt, every trial, you would always be second. Silver. Sure, you could smash down every other warrior. Sure, you could outrun and outswim and even outrank any other person in the clan, but there would always be him. Aonung.

He was, in fact, a complete and utter idiot. He was all big and perfect and beloved by the clan, despite all his flaws. Because those flaws seemed perfectly obvious to you, his competition, but everyone else just fawned over his big muscles and pretty blue eyes and you were determined to never do so.

He was cocky. He was a player. He had more muscles in his arms than braincells in his head. He was condescending and entitled and just somehow managed to get away with everything.

So you were determined to be the person to call him out. If everyone was going to baby him and feed his practically obese ego, you would try to keep him in check.

You wouldn't fawn and fall at his feet. Every word you spoke to him was twice as harsh as to others. Every blow you delivered in training was harder than the last, and certainly harder than anyone else would dare to hit the precious little prince. Every look you sent him clearly showed your distaste that he, somehow, always was above you.

And he seemed to get it. As you got older, he became less dickish towards you. By the time you finished your iknimaya, he had congratulated you. By the time the Sully's came to the reef, if you called him out on his taunting, he'd pull his head back in.

You, of course, had no idea why. Everyone else did though. The way Aonung would only do as you say was perfectly obvious to everyone else. Ronal and Tonowari had figured it out early, that their son hardly listened to them, so they managed to sneak you into it when they wanted him to do something.

And Aonung tried to get over it. That's why he spent his days training hard, trying to beat away and sweat out all his ceaseless thoughts of you. Thoughts that mortify him, thoughts that you would murder him over.

That's why he spends his nights with a new girl every time, on the beach, in the water, on the woven floor of marui's, trying to fuck his desires for you out into another girl.

He can't help it- the way he imagines it's always you. You squirming as he lays with his head nestled between your shaking thighs, holding you down and drawing desperate moans out of your mouth so usually full of quips and snarls.

You on your knees in front of him, the same eyes that glare when you look at him now filled with tears as you take him far into your throat, your soft lips brushing over his hard length.

Imagining you're the one under him, riding him, bent over in front of him, the curve of your ass and the softness of your tits on complete display for him.

Fuck.

It was bad. It was really fucking bad.

You were his second in command, you were his biggest competition. What used to be a childish crush was rapidly growing into a mature, dangerous obsession.

What he wouldn't give to have you as his, to be yours...

You, of course, on the other hand, are completely oblivious to his infatuation with you. For years, you've written off the way he treats you differently as simply part of the game, part of the competition the two of you have entertained for so long.

You have no idea of the blunt lust and deep affection he harbours for you, and you're certainly oblivious to his efforts to get closer to you. The first could have been anything, and it never would have occurred to you that it was courting.

In the years since your iknimaya, the rivalry between the two of you had fizzled slightly. You could accept his outranking you- he, at least, was worth the top position.

So you followed his orders with 60% obedience and managed to build a courteous, polite relationship with him. You were not quite friends, yet you both respected the other, and managed to share a good conversation every now and then.

Which is why it seemed so shocking that he was suddenly starting to compete with you again. He, of course, isn't doing anything of the sort, but you think he's falling back into the old rivalry.

It all started with the summer hunt.

Really, it was your fault. You let yourself get overconfident, sure that the huge fish you had speared through the heart would be the largest catch of the clan, and you had been pleased with yourself and returned to the village.

There was much admiration and praise for your amazing catch, everyone congratulating you until suddenly it all stopped. You weren't an attention seeker at all, but you couldn't help feeling irritated that something was suddenly so important.

Which, of course, has to be Aonung.

He's striding towards you, his large, muscular arms straining under the weight of the fish he's holding. It's fucking massive, completely putting your batch to shame, with shimmery scales and terrifying spikes all along it's back and fins and mouth and tail.

Almost instantly, everyone that had been congratulating you practically pounces onto him, gushing over their precious little prince and his unimaginable talents, his incredible strength, his impossible bravery yadayadayada.

You, on the other hand, just stay back, arms folded and a scowl fixed onto your face. You aren't bitter he did better than you (well maybe a little but that wasn't the point). After thinking you both got over this competition on at least surface level, here he was, bringing his haul over to you to completely undermine your efforts. To show, once again, he beat you.

But as everyone fawned all over him, he just continues to walk to you, returning a smile every now and then but staying in silence as he approaches. His bright blue eyes are fixed into yours the whole time.

He doesn't look cocky; there's a strange glint in those ocean eyes that you can't interpret. He's doing something, you can obviously tell at least that, trying to prove himself in some way.

And of course, your competitive, fierce mind jumps straight into the past. You can't believe he's doing this now, making you look ridiculous and small and undermining you with his amazing catch.

He finally reaches your woven basket, in which your now seemingly tiny fish lies. You fold your arms and stare blankly up at him, not bothering to hide your annoyance.

"Hey," he smiles, shifting the fish in his arms so he can see you better.

"Hey," you reply slightly coldly, raising your brows slightly and watching him.

He was attractive, you can admit that. Not just in a pretty way, he was so pretty it had every girl falling at his feet, and he was always happy to offer his time to them. It was something in that white shiny smile and bright blue eyes, maybe something to do with that air of slight mischief and danger that lingered around him.

It also could be his body. That was good too. All muscular and giant and taller than anyone else in the clan, even Tonowari. He moved with confidence and slight cockiness, the curve of his broad shoulders rolling gracefully when he moved. It was something to do with the sharpness of his collarbones and jawline, or the way his lashes curled so gently. Or just his body, the slight X shape to his ribcage, his stomach toned and muscly just like the rest of him, tapering into a slim waist.

“Good catch,” Aonung says, nodding down at your basket that looks ridiculous beside his.

You squint at him, is he making fun of you? But he looks genuinely sincere, and also nervous. Aonung, the prince of the clan, the most confident even cocky person you know, is standing slightly awkwardly in front of you, looking nervous.

You aren’t sure if it’s your face- your glare does tend to have a terrifying effect on people, but you decide you’ve glared at him and he’s never looked this nervous around you before. In fact, you’ve never even seen him be nervous ever. Not at any fight or hunt or even at his iknimaya.

That only makes you more annoyed.

“Yours is better,” you reply bluntly. It’s an obvious fact, and Aonung smiles slightly.

“Thank you,” he grins. “I went outside the reef to three brothers rock-”

“Isn’t that a bit far,” you ask sceptically. “And a little dangerous?”

You go to hunt at three brothers rock every few days, but what was this skxawng playing at, going to such extreme lengths to beat you.

“I wanted to bring something good back,” he shrugs.

You scowl a little deeper. The other clan members that had been offering their congratulations were now dispersing. Sure, your arguments with Aonung were known to be a great source of entertainment for the clan, almost as much as the actual warrior fights, but they also knew better than to overstay their welcome when it came to the two highest ranking warriors in the clan. And this is where this is heading, an argument

Really, you had slackened in your insults and keeping Aonung in line over the last few years, the competition between the two of you dying out slowly let you let him off the hook. He had used his new freedom to fuck around with his friends and girls and you had put your efforts into training and proving yourself.

“What are you trying to do Aonung,” you sigh, sharpening your knife to carve the fish.

“What do you mean?” He asks, sounding confused.

“You’ve never gone hunting beyond the reef except when you’re trying to prove a point,” you say bluntly, not looking up from sharpening your knife. “Like when you nearly got Lo’ak killed when we were kids. So what point are you trying to prove?”

When he doesn’t say anything, just staring down at you, you put your knife down with a small snarl and glare up at him.

But before you can say anything, the next wave of villagers walks past, and they bustle around Aonung to marvel at his incredible hunting skills and unbelievable daring and oh my god you’re just strong! And Aonung just doesn’t seem to care. He usually is aloof and cocky, but he enjoys praise and ass kissing. The new crowd blocks you from his view, and you shift slightly to keep it that way, while you can take another look at him. He looks like he’s trying to find you, craning his neck and ignoring all the praises and flirtings thrown at his fucking feet. His brows are furrowed, and he looks torn between confusion and slight upset that you’ve suddenly disappeared.

Stupid skxawng.

You sigh, gaze flicking to the basket of your smaller fish lying ignored and abandoned beside the group clamouring over Aonung’s massive, incredible one, and sigh.

You leave it there and slip back through the crowd and into your marui.

Tsireya’s waiting there for you, your best friend lying in your bed, admiring something. Her ears flick up when you enter, quickly noticing your annoyance in your huffy silence and agitatedly flicking tail.

“Hey beautiful,” Tsireya grins. “What’s got your tail in a knot?"

“I’ll tell you who,” you say hotly, stripping off your gear from hunting and tossing it angrily into the corner. “Some stupid, infuriating, competitive-”

“Right,” Tsireya rolls her eyes. “What has Aonung done now? I thought you guys were fine now.”

“I thought so too,” you growl, setting your knife down aggressively. “But noooo, apparently now he has to one up me and hunt the biggest fish in my fishing territory. You know, I don’t know why he’s being so competitive.”

“It’s a bit hypocritical of you to be calling anyone competitive,” your best friend comments, raising her brows at you. When you glare at her, she holds her hands up. “I was just saying, don’t get mad at me.”

You just huff a sigh and flop down onto your woven bed, laying your head in her lap.

“You really don’t know what’s going on, do you?” Tsireya says, sounding amused.

“What do you mean, what’s going on?” you snap. “I just know that your brother is trying to beat me, or prove something-”

Tsireya laughs incredulously, and when you lift your head to frown at her, she stifles her giggle and puts on a straight face.

“This is beautiful,” she gestures to what she’d been studying before.

You have half a mind to object to her subject change. But then again, Tsireya had heard you rant about her brother so many times, she’d probably memorised it by now. And you weren’t bothered to spend any more time thinking about him, otherwise you’d get pissed and unproductive.

“Yes,” you smile fondly, taking the top from her. It was beautifully woven, a piece that you had been working on for a while for the hunt festival, beading intricately with gems and shells and seaglass you had collected yourself. It was something you adored, something beautiful and yours, that you could admire as your hard work.

“Well, come and see what I have prepared,” Tsireya grins.

“I don’t want to run into Aonung at your marui,” you sigh.

“Oh, you won’t,” Tsireya rolls her eyes. “My brother’s out preparing for you- um, for something?”

“Probably the festival,” you grumble under your breath. “Where he’ll steal my last respect and status.”

But you follow your best friend out along the village to her marui. The sun was nearly set now, a deep, rich periwinkle colour over the sparkling, still ocean. You wished you could go for a swim, maybe even a hunt right now, but you need to help prepare for the festival tomorrow night. That was who you were, reliable and determined to do anything to prove yourself, helping wherever you can.

Tonowari, Ronal, Tsireya and Aonung lived in the largest marui in the village, obviously. They had the one in the centre, a huge, beautifully woven marui with partings for rooms. You had your own marui now, with a single room, a sleeping mat, a small kitchen, and a shelf for your memories and keepsakes. It wasn’t exactly tiny, given your high status, but as you lived alone you weren’t assigned a larger, nicer marui, and you had no need for one either.

But sometimes you felt a little bitter as you looked across the village to your favourite marui. It had just been recently woven, in the perfect spot at the edge of the beach and over the shallows of the water, the perfect place to fish right off the walkway. It had plenty of room for weapons and collectibles, and a curtain for privacy woven of palm leaves and strung with beautiful shells hung in the entrance, shielding the interior for you.

Oh, how you longed to have that marui. Problem was, there was a reason why it was so beautiful. It was for the next clan leader- Aonung and his future mate.

You sneak a glance at it before you follow Tsireya into her family’s marui. You greet Ronal and Tonowari who greet you happily, exchanging some conversation about the festival and the hunt. As you finish your chat and go towards Tsireya’s room, something catches your eye from another doorway.

You aren’t a snooper. You aren’t a lurker or someone who wallows in other people’s business. You certainly never cared about Aonung’s business. But you can’t help your curiosity, and after noticing Aonung isn’t in his room and hearing Tsireya rustle about in her room to get her top, you quickly slip your head in to see.

Eywa. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Sitting neatly on his bed, amidst several loose beads and string, is the more intricate, gorgeous top you’ve ever seen. Just like the hunt, it puts your top to complete shame.

Each bead sparkles in the light, colourful and happy and beautiful just like the stars shining bright above you. You can’t help feeling impressed, though you’re still frowning. Tentatively, you reach out and lightly trace the top.

It’s so smooth and cool beneath your fingers, and you can already see that it would settle perfectly when worn, showing the perfect amount of skin and delicately covering you at the same time.

Everyone weaves new tops for the festivals, and men often do too to gift to others. Aonung was going to beat you, once again. There was no doubt about it, this top was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

And then you’re suddenly upset, and it’s hitting you that once fucking again he’s won and you’ve lost and it’s all just shit and you’re backing out of Aonung’s room. You’re backing out of the marui, and you’re headed straight for your own home. Flopping into your bed, you just lie in still silence, staring blankly up and scowling.

That night is filled with annoying restlessness. You don’t attend the preparations for the festival held the night after the hunt, resigning yourself that you’ll just figure it all out at the festivities tomorrow. You had, once again, been proved completely inferior to Aonung, and when you woke up the next day and prepared for training, you were determined to not let it happen again.

You made your way over to the training grounds early, figuring maybe you could get in some practise before everyone else arrived and you were once again Aonung’s second in command, but as you gathered some spears and walked over, there was a familiar figure standing there.

“Hey,” Aonung calls when he sees you arriving. “Where did you go yesterday; I didn’t see you after the hunt?”

“I was tired,” you say coolly, tying your hair back.

“Right,” Aonung says, brow furrowing slightly. “And you weren’t helping to prepare last night, either.”

At that, you straighten up and frown at him.

“Since when did you go to the preparations?” you ask sceptically. “I thought you were too cool to help out.”

“I was looking for you,” Aonung says unexpectedly. “You disappeared before.”

“Well,” you huff, lifting a spear, “I wasn’t in the mood for worshipping you like everyone else.”

Aonung chuckles slightly, shaking his head and leaning back to stare at you.

“You’ve never worshipped me.”

“You need someone to keep you humble,” you sigh, bringing your arm back and tossing the spear as hard as you can. It flies far and lands sticking straight up into the sand. You turn back to see Aonung looking impressed. “Unfortunately, being humble isn’t your strong suit.”

“Hey,” he protests. “I’m great at being humble. I’m practically the best at humbleness.”

“Right,” you roll your eyes, picking up another spear. “Be a dear and grab my spear, will you?”

You half expect Aonung to argue, to point out he is your superior, but to your surprise he obediently walks out and picks it from the sand. So he’s still doing as you ask, so what was that sudden resurgence of competition?

“Are you going to try and kill me?” Aonung asks amusedly, watching as you level another spear and throw it again whilst he’s still picking up your first.

“No,” you say stiffly. “I wouldn’t need to try- if I wanted you dead, this spear would already be through your head.”

“You really are strange,” he says, making his way back. There’s a strange fondness in his voice that you don’t understand.

Unbeknownst to you of course, Aonung was not so sneaky at hiding his feelings from everyone else. Or maybe the rest of the clan just wasn’t as oblivious as you. Either way, neither of you noticed your warriors gathering around, watching you and Aonung.

You had always been careful to maintain a courteous, respectful relationship with Aonung in the eyes of your warriors since you passed your iknimaya, but really, you weren’t fooling anyone.

Everyone remembers the two of you when you were younger, in constant competition, your distaste and need to keep him in line balancing his cockiness. And just as infamous (except to you) is just how much Aonung likes his second in command.

Really, it’s obvious to all your warriors- they’re the ones that have to watch Aonung watch you, watch your movements and instructions and teachings and scolding. It’s not secret to them that he likes you, yet their knowledge is a secret to Aonung, and everything is a secret to you.

You start the usual training, instructing all your warriors into warmups and then positions, preparing for them to practise sparring. But, unbeknownst to you, your warriors had a plan, sick of all the pretences and rivalry and oblivious and secrets.

The next stage of training was something of a tournament, all the warriors pairing up and fighting. Winner moves on, loser’s out. You should have known it would end up like this.

You were the best warriors after all, and too soon you found yourself facing Aonung, your warriors watching with interest from the sidelines after being absolutely annihilated by the pair of you. Really, your showdowns with Aonung were almost legendary, but there hadn’t been one since you both completed your iknimaya. But now here you are, about to fight him.

You and Aonung stand at opposite ends, studying each other and moving into battle positions.

You start to circle, before Aonung moves first. He stabs his spear towards you, which you parry easily and we whirl. It's a dance really, charged with tension as you slash and spiral, ducking and stabbing. But after a few moments, Aonung manages to twist the spear from your grip, and it clatters to the ground, rolling out of the circle. You hear groans from the crowd, and the thought that they think you might lose is infuriating.

Not this fucking time. You haven’t come second at every turn for years, your rivalry to die and and then suddenly just return for you to lose again.

You leap at Aonung, leaping over his spear jab and twisting in the air to grab his queue and use your momentum to fling him across the circle. His spear, too, goes rolling away, and he gets slowly to his feet, exhaling and narrowing his eyes slightly.

You exchange a few punches and attacks, enough for you to realise that he must be holding back. There is no way that someone that muscular throws a punch that weak.

"Why are you holding back?" you hiss.

"I'm not," Aonung says, yet the next punch he delivers to your side hardly winds you at all.

"Stop holding back," you growl, and leaping at him, knocking him to the floor and straddling him easily.

And finally, you see his eyes narrow and his breath catch with annoyance, and he moves with his full power. It was an anticipatable offence, and you step quickly aside, ducking under his swing. You move around behind him and kick his leg, bending it and sending him to his knees. You quickly toss him aside onto the ground while he is still confused, and he slides along the sand, digging his fingers in at the last moment.

He clambers to his feet and you crouch a little lower. You trail the circle, eyes fixed on one another. You wait, unhurried and unworried, so he gives in and makes the first move again. This time he goes for your legs, and you leap over him, pushing his shoulders down so he stumbles and you roll to the ground and spring up again.

You exchange punches and kicks, and he doesn't hold back. He tackles to the ground and you groan as his elbow jabs at your gut. Aonung is admittedly stronger, so it takes you some time to wiggle free from his hold, but you move your knee up to smack him in the groin. Then he rolls you over easily and pins me down, his other hand closing around your throat.

You jab your elbow into his side and roll you over again, pinning his hands up and straddling his chest.

“Go on,” you breathe, faces inches from Aonung, pressing your arm up against his throat, ready to cut off his breath if needed.

But he doesn’t say anything. His large, muscular body is warm and still beneath you, his eyes just roving over your face with wide pupils, breath heaving. In fact, his breathing is so strong you’re practically getting lifted up and down on his chest.

Everyone’s watching expectantly, and you press your arm down harder on his throat. You raise your brows expectantly at him.

“I give up,” he breathes, inches away from your face, eyes boring brightly into your own.

“Louder,” you snap, lightly slamming him against the ground.

“I give up!” he shouts.

You let him go, arm moving off his throat, and just resting, breathing heavily. He gave up. You won. You beat him, finally, after years of coming second, and everyone saw you do it.

And the staring eyes suddenly make you realise you’re still straddling Aonung, legs tight on either side and whole body resting on his infuriatingly very prominent abs.

You aren’t one to blush, but you’d be lying if you didn’t scramble quickly off him, readjusting your top and tewng as you look at your warriors. They look satisfied. Not in the way you feel, not like they’re happy you finally beat him. No, they look like something was just confirmed, something you just have no idea about.

“Dismissed,” Aonung calls, waving off his warriors.

You frown, but at the end of the day, it isn’t your call. So you greet your warriors goodbye, exchanging words and waving them off. You don’t miss their knowing smiles, and the way none of them wait for you to follow too. As though they know exactly what’s about to happen, as you pick up your spears and make to follow-

“Wait.”

The word hangs lazily in the air. And, since it was spoken out of his mouth, you had to obey. So, trying to fight off the scowl fixed on your face, you slowly turn to stare at him.

“Yes, Aonung?”

“You are mad with me,” Aonung says, a slight frown on his face. You squint slightly. Eywa, this skxawng really is thick, that it’s taken him so long to realise, and for him to not even be sure about it.

“Is that all you had to ask me?” you reply, with raised brows. “Can I go now-”

“No,” Aonung says bluntly. It’s the first time he’s ever flat out refused you, and you have to take a moment to realise that you actually have to stay and have this conversation now, instead of hiding your annoyance with him behind rolled eyes like usual.

“Fine.” You cross your arms and stand impatiently. It couldn’t be clearer that you wanted to leave, and Aonung shifts a little.

This isn’t at all how he pictured you to be acting. He had tried so hard- hunting the largest fish, trying his best to impress you at every turn with fighting and spear throwing. And you finally beat him. You won, so why are you so upset with him?

Maybe you noticed him staring, maybe you noticed how flustered he got when you had him pinned down and were straddling him?

In no way was Aonung someone that submitted easily. He listened to no one, except you. Really, you’re the only person that could ever get away with having him like that. If only you knew what more you could get away with, that he’d let you do anything, that he’d do anything you let him.

“Why do you dislike me so much?” Aonung asks. Your eyes narrow further.

“I don’t dislike you,” you say delicately, and he scoffs.

“We’ve been stuck in this competition since we were kids,” Aonung points out. “Why did it start.”

“You’re asking me?” you say with raised brows. “Aren’t you the one that’s been determined to beat me at every turn?”

“That’s what you think I’ve been doing?” Aonung asks incredulously. “You think all these years, I just wanted to win?”

“Don’t you?” you ask. “I mean, what have you been beating me and belittling me for years for then, if not to win?”

Aonung blinks rapidly. Oh eywa, this is fucked. He never would have guessed this; that you genuinely thought he dislikes you, that all he wanted was to triumph over you this whole time.

“You just won,” Aonung points out instead.

“Once,” you snap. “I won once, after busting my ass off my whole life. I can handle being second in command. I can handle you being a better hunter and a better fighter and a better leader and beader and whatever, but why are you suddenly rubbing all your victories in my face again?”

“I’m not,” Aonung says, flushing furiously. “I wasn’t trying to gloat or anything, I wanted you to see me do well… because…”

Your eyes narrow further, and your brows raise higher. It couldn’t be plainer you weren’t believing a word he said, and he could guess you’d take some convincing even if he did decide to confess everything right here and now. When he stands in awkward silence, trying to think of what to say, you scoff.

“What about the hunt. What about the spears. What about the top, and the marui and-”

“The top? The marui?”

“Yes,” you hiss. “I spent so long weaving the most beautiful top and you had to make an even prettier one. I mean- how did your massive fumbly fingers even manage to make it? And the marui- building the most beautiful home right in front of mine, blocking my view of the ocean-“

“Stop!” Aonung finally cuts you off, as your tone grows louder and more impatient. “It was for you.”

You scowl. Then you frown. Then you raise your brows, and part your lips in confusion. Then you scowl again.

“What?”

“It’s all for you,” Aonung explodes, rubbing a tired hand over his face. “I tried hard to impress you all those years. I hunted that fish to impress you. I wove that top to impress you. Everything I’ve ever done has been for you.”

And now he’s done it. Spoken the words that break everything, the ones that make fucking sure that nothing’s ever going to be the same. He risks a peek between his fingers at you.

You look like you’ve been broken. Your eyes are wide, your cheeks flushed, mouth parted in confusion, brows raised and head cocked slightly. You’re trying to tell what the fuck is going on. This is a joke, this has to be a joke. He’s taking the fucking piss.

There’s no way Aonung is telling the truth right now- no way anything has been for you. Not the fish, not the hunt, not the fights or the spears or the tops or any thing.

“And the marui?” you whisper. Aonung sighs, covering his face with a large hand. He looks absolutely mortified, as though he wasn’t meant to say any of this.

“Well, I was hoping this would go differently- better. That maybe you would see I liked you without needing me to shout it at you- that maybe you might think that perhaps I never disliked you and that I just wanted you to see me?”

You just continue to stare blankly at him, so he continues in a rush.

“It was perfect,” he mumbles. “Perfect for fishing. You could see the perfect sunsets. The prettiest shells wash up on the beaches underneath the walkway, and I know you love the little ones with the dark spirals. Early morning huts, places to store your weapons, a little cove for the ilu right underneath.”

You blink even more rapidly. Is this skxawng actually making sense? Is he telling the truth?

“So…” you say slowly, swallowing hotly. “You aren’t like… my rival or something.”

“I hope not,” Aonung mutters. “I mean, am I?”

The silence you keep is going to kill him. He just knows it; his heart is thumping so hard he knows it’s about to explode and he’s going to die. His hands and fidgeting sightly. Eywa, he’s never been this nervous in his life. Really, you’re the only person who’s ever managed to make him feel nervous.

And fuck. You had never thought of Aonung like this- never let yourself think of him like this. Because he was always Aonung, prince of the clan, your best friend’s brother, your commander, your rival. But now apparently not. When you think about it, you never hated Aonung. Your distaste for him was purely on a physical level, for his cockiness and taunting, yet noe it was never actually true.

Plus, there were good things about him- that he was a good hunter and fisher and fighter and weaver. And he was sort of sweet, even though you always mistook his crush for dislike.

Plus Eywa, he’s hot.

And maybe it has something to do with the terrified, guilty, nervous, heart-broken, hopeful look in those bright blue eyes, but you find your heart pounding slightly faster. No. Fuck.

The silence is growing longer, and you’re feeling… something. Something in the air between you. Something that had always been there, a tension that makes everything all sharp and strong and dangerous, but you’d always written it off as the stupid rivalry.

Aonung’s just staring, looking large and muscly and nervous in front of you, but also expectant. He expects you to say no. He thinks he’s messed up, pushed things too far, changed everything, fucked it all up. And, as ever, you prove him wrong.

“Aonung,” you say quietly. “What are you saying?”

“I- fuck- I like you,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face. “I like everything about you, even when you hate me. I like that you speak your mind, and you treat me like anyone and not like some king or something. I like that you aren’t ever afraid or nervous, and that everything you do is just… it’s just always right.”

You scrunch your face. A small flush is creeping across your cheeks. Who would have ever thought that Aonung would be the one to be giving you these stupid fucking butterflies, just by speaking and staring at you with those bright blue eyes. And that when it strikes you. All the usual customs of courting. Bringing gifts. Hunting for them. Beading them clothing. And the marui. Everything he thought you’d like- that you do like, and it was for you.

“So, you’re trying to court me?” you ask incredulously, heart thumping loudly in your chest.

“Is it not obvious already?” Aonung asks with a smile. “Do you need me to get down and propose, tawtute style?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you grin wickedly. “I didn’t spend years being second to you to let you off too easily now, did I?”

“Fine,” Aonung sighs. To your surprise, he kneels down instantly and rolls his eyes up at you. “Do you have an answer now?”

“So impatient,” you squint at him.

“Still your commander,” he points out. “But you don’t need to respond right now. I’m happy for you to take your time. I’ve already waited-”

Surprising even yourself, you reach out and pull him up. It’s not something you consciously do- you have no idea what you meant to do- but then all of a sudden you’re inches apart, eyes meeting dangerously, and you’re reaching up and he’s leaning down and your lips meet.

Fuck. It’s all warm and gentle and comfortable, his arms instantly reaching to encircle you, hold you, hands resting in your hair and carefully on your hips. He smells gently of amber and sea-breeze, but you’re most focused on his lips. They’re impossibly soft against yours, gentle, then exploratory, then hungry.

And then all of a sudden, you can see. It’s almost like your eyes aren’t closed; they’re open and you can see everything Aonung said in truth. You can feel the years he spent liking you in secret, the passion with which he wanted to hold you, to kiss you for so long. Too long. You can feel it in the heat of the kiss, the heaviness of his breath, the closeness of his body against yours, as though he wants to hold you as near as possible and never let you go.

But he does, hands sliding off your waist, withdrawing from your hair, stepping back and gazing down at you. And for the first time- you feel nervous. You feel bare, and messy, and scared. Not of Aonung, god no, but of what just happened. Of what you just felt.

And when he opens his mouth, no doubt to tell you there’s no pressure, he isn’t expecting anything from you, you’re free to do blah blah blah, you find there’s already an answer on your lips. It’s that you want his again.

“You’re to be Olo’eyktan,” you whisper. You immediately see his ears lower and face fall, and you quickly shake your head. "Aonung, look at me."

He does, ashamedly and heartbroken, and you swallow before thinking. You try to think what you need to say, bury what you want to say, biting your lip to stop yourself from hurting him. Or yourself. But his hand slides up to gently caress your face. With his fingers so gently touching your cheeks and under his intoxicating gaze, it's so hard to say it, but you know you must.

"Aonung, you have your people and your future to think-"

“I am thinking,” Aonung says firmly. “I’ve thought about this every day since we were kids. My parents knew I thought about this- the whole clan knew. And think about it- you are literally the best fighter, best hunter, best weaver in the whole clan.”

“You are,” you correct, but he just shakes his head.

“Don’t think about any duties or anything,” Aonung says firmly. “This is what I’ve wanted forever, more than being a warrior, more than being Olo’eyktan. Because what is important is you- and I won’t want to do any of those things without you by my side. Not some village girl, not some other shy healer, you.”

You can’t think of anything to say. You stand there for a moment, blinking at him, heart beating fast in your chest, head spinning nervously. So instead of saying anything, because you have no idea what to say, you step forward to close the gap he just made, lean onto your tip toes and crash your lips onto his.

And he catches you in a way no one else could. Really, only Aonung could be like this. He certainly hadn’t been wasting all that time staring at you in training- he knew exactly what to do- where to slide his hands over your waist, how to tilt your head, to graze his fangs lightly over your lips. This obviously isn’t his first rodeo (you know that, you’d heard enough stories about him with other girls), but Eywa, you feel like it’s your first time with the way each of his careful, smooth movements have your heart twisting.

You’re growing closer, his hand traveling lower, your own moving over the muscles in his arms and back and shoulder and holy shit this man is just seemingly impossibly fit. The kisses are growing hungrier, messier, closer, all pressing of tongues and heavy breaths and grazing fangs.

Your insides are twisting nervously, tiny flutters of surprised delight flaring inside you, and also something else. You’re growing hungrier for his touches, greedy for him, and you can tell that he, too, is also growing needier. His hand brushes over the string of your tewng and you shiver in his touch.

But then he’s pulling away again. You frown at him, eyes narrowed, legs slightly rubbing together, lips feeling cold without the press of his against them. Aonung’s breathing heavily, pupils blown wide to ebony moons ringed in clear blue, chest heaving slightly and gaze roving over your face.

When you return to your marui, your heart is thumping fast, and you notice something gleaming on your bed. The top. Aonnug’s top- the one he made. For you. You instantly run a finger along the intricate beading, just as you had when you first saw it, but still just as nervous, as gentle, as tentative. It can’t be yours- it doesn’t feel real- that he likes you, that he made this, that he did everything. For you.

“Where have you been?” an amused voice asks from the entrance. You turn to see Tsireya walking in towards you, a small knowing smile of her sweet face.

“I was training,” you say quietly. “And- um- Aonung…”

“You found out,” Tsireya says plainly, looking delighted. She walks over and leans a head on your shoulder, admiring the top with you. “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it? You should wear it tonight.”

You frown slightly. In all the haze of the fighting and annoyance and finally the truth, you’d forgotten about the festival. But as you gaze down at the beautiful top, you smile slightly. You nod at your best friend, who grins back and leans closer into you.

Aonung’s sitting at the side of the party. You’ve yet to arrive, and he’s determinedly avoiding the gazes sent his way from other girls. That’s how these sort of festivals always ended, how most of his nights ended, with a new girl. But he couldn’t bring himself to feel the slightest bit of interest, not when he remembered you.

The furious gleam in your eyes as you kissed him, the softness of your skin rubbing against his own, your slim waist held in his hand. The sweet, coconut smell of your soft dark curls, the warmth of your lips against his, the feeling of your teeth lightly grazing his lips. And the sounds you made- all breathy and almost as hungry as he was, eywa, he can’t wait to hear it again.

It was better than he’d ever imagined, and he’d imagined kissing you a million times over the years. Soft and gentle and rough and hungry and desperate and sweet and everything you’d ever want. Because he’d do it. He’d do whatever you wanted.

“Hey,” Rotxo says, nudging Aonung. “Isn’t that the love of your life?”

Aonung turns, faster than he’s ever turned before, and sees you walking besides Tsireya and standing with the Sullys. A small shiver goes through him at the sight of you in that top. He had never pictured it would look like that, but he wasn’t about to complain.

The beadings shone against your teal skin in the pale moonlight and flickering firelight, the intricate strands of the top threading over your chest and leaving little to imagination. He’s barely aware he’s moved over and left an amused Rotxo behind, all he knows is suddenly you’ve stopped looking around the party to find him, and he’s right there in front of you.

Everything seems to fall silent- not only in Aonung’s mind. Girls all over the party are glaring, guys are frowning, your warriors are grinning in a fucking finally sort of way, and Tsireya, Rotxo, and the Sullys are just watching with delighted amusement. Across the fire, you can feel Ronal and Tonowari watching. But when you look over, Tonowari is smiling, and Ronal gives you an appreciative nod and a swift grin.

The festival seems to last a lifetime. It seems completely pointless to Aonung, just a bunch of congratulations to the hunters and a few songs and dances around the fire. Until you get out on the sand. The sway of your hips is hypnotising, as is the way your curls move in unison with your slim body. And of course, he doesn’t miss the way the top shifts as you dance, caressing over your skin like ripples in still water. He’s never been more jealous of an inanimate object in his life.

And then it’s over, and you’re right beside him. He’s not sure what exactly was going through his mind, what either of you were thinking, but suddenly you’re leaving the party together, hurried and hungry and it couldn’t be more fucking obvious what’s going to happen.

You’re alone now once you leave the beaches and walk along the woven pathways of the village; the whole clan is out at the festival. You look up at him, and he pauses to look down at you. Neither of you say anything, but then it’s happening and you’re kissing him again.

Really, none of it feels real. It all stopped being real when he told you he liked you- but now the way he’s leaning down so far to kiss you, to hold you closer just sends you over the edge of unreality. Then he’s getting impatient, and he’s simply picking you up like you weight nothing, hands automatically holding you in place by your back and one steadily holding your thigh.

You’re expecting to go to your marui, or maybe his, but instead, you don’t. You go into the perfect marui, the one you’ve stared at every day, as casually as though it’s your own home. You open your mouth to say something, but the privacy curtain of woven shells closes behind you, and it strikes you that you’re alone with Aonung.

The marui’s dimly lit in the silvery moonlight filtering through the weavings, and really, your attention is going straight to the very comfortable bed. His kisses are getting hungrier as he walks you backwards towards the bed, hands holding tight to your hips until both of you fall back onto the bed, his large, muscular body warm over yours. His hand reaches up to the beading of your top, and in his haste to get closer, he just rips it right off. You gasp, watching the beautiful beads scatter everywhere, but he pays no mind.

“I’ll make you more,” he promises. And who are you to complain- particularly with the way he’s staring at you.

Held in his warm lap, one of his hands big enough to hold both your breasts, both large enough to wrap around your whole neck. The thought of that makes you moan unconsciously, and Aonung blinks at you in surprise. You don't bother to play anything cool; with his hands where they are, he can feel how hot and nervous and hungry you are.

And when he meets your eyes again, you can see he feels the same. He’s trailing kisses down your jaw now, hands reaching up to lightly brush over your skin before he licking over your tit gently, grinning a little at your whine, the stark contrast of your smooth supple skin against his rough tongue just driving you fucking crazy.

He wraps his lips around your nipple and suckles at it, before he nips lightly at the underside of your tit. You gasp, hands gripping his arms tighter, unexpectant and surprised. Each of his moves is calculated, clever, as though he’s planned this a million times in his head.

You blame all the years of training together- he’s the only one that would have such an intimate knowledge of your body without having done anything like this with you before. He knows to be gentle and rough and where to kiss and lick and nip. His hands are trailing down, and they’re sliding along the string of your tewng.

“Is this alright?” he asks gently, pausing to look up at you.

“Yes,” you breathe hastily, desperate for anything. How the tables have fucking turned; now all you want is his touch, his words, him, when just a day ago you were grumbling to Tsireya about what a competitive, infuriating skxawng he is.

“Shit,” he breathes, as his finger slides through your slit. “You’re so wet.”

But despite wanting this so bad, your face is flushing and you can’t help your legs closing slightly when he slides your tewng away, and you’re left bare in front of him. Aonung frowns with impatience, easily pushing them apart and muscling his face between your thighs with such obvious enthusiasm you practically squeal.

When his nose nudges again your clit and he licks a long stripe up your cunt, you jerk away in surprise and he grips your thighs to keep you still. You’ve never gotten eaten out before, and you weren’t at all expecting the sudden twist in you, or the way you clenched around nothing in arousal. You had forgotten to process the roughness of a na’vi tongue, and it feels all large and hot and wet and so unbelievably perfect.

You're squirming from the moment he gets onto you, sucking lightly at your clit, a delighted, puppy-playful glint in his large blue eyes, tossing your legs over his shoulders so his face is pressed even closer to you. He suckles at you so eagerly, tongue stroking over your hole, over and over and over. You can't help it, the way you're simultaneously squirming away from the overwhelming pleasure of it all and the way you're rutting your hips into his face.

It's all messy, you're so wet, his face is shining with your slick and his spit, and he slides a finger back and dips it in. Instantly you gasp, jolting upwards and arching your back high to the ceiling. Aonung's about to grumble at your squirming when you tug at his hair and he groans.

“Go on,” he says carelessly, before he’s dove back down.

The man’s determined, you’ve got to give at least that to him. As you start to relax more and more, your grip on his hair gets tighter, and he’s moaning along with you. You aren’t entirely sure why, but he seems to be enjoying this as much as you do by the way his tail is thumping happily behind him, or how you can tell he’s very obviously grinning.

Aonung continues to lave his tongue against you, the warm roughness creating a perfect friction that has you arching up despite your hips being caged down by his large hands. He’s listening, watching everything you do, his ears pricking at every sound you make, his movements calculated to what you react to.

When he lightly sinks his fangs into your leg, you cry out and accidentally grind against his face, and he does it several more times.

“Fuck,” you groan, fingers threading deeper through his hair. And then he buries his tongue deep into you, nose nudging against your clit, and your orgasm is washing over you with fierce purpose. It takes you by complete surprise, and you writhe and moan and buck against his face until it’s all too much. Even then he doesn’t stop, and you have to tug his head away.

He looks disgruntled you’re making him stop, but his pride and dopey smile is bright on his face face shining like the fucking ocean, but he just wipes it carelessly and moves back up your body to shower your chest and neck with more kisses and light nips.

“That was fast,” he comments, grinning at you.

“Yeah, well,” you huff. “I- it’s never happened before.”

Aonung frowns, shifting closer.

“You’ve never been eaten out?”

“I- um... I’ve never come.”

“But…” Aonung says, frown deepening further. “You’ve been with a guy before. Right?”

He looks uncertainly at you, and you shift nervously. This is humiliating to admit, especially to the guy who’s known to be the most pleasurable man ever- the one who spends every second night with a new girl.

“Just one,” you mutter. “Once.”

“Who?” Aonung demands, and you smile, leaning forward to kiss him again, but he pulls back. “We don’t have to do anything. Just-”

“No!” you say quickly, reaching towards him. “I want to do this, Aonung.”

He opens his mouth, no doubt to speak more comfort, to tell you there’s no pressure yada yada yada, you reach out and cup the bulge of his tewng. He hisses softly, words dying in his throat and his gaze leaping to rake over your face. He waits patiently, but you can see his jaw clenched in the effort it’s taking him not to rock against your hand.

He feels big. To be fair, you’ve only seen one cock in your life, and if you’re being honest, you’d hope most people were bigger than that, but just the clothed bulge under your hand is enough to have your head spinning. You just hope to Eywa you can take it- but you’ve never been a quitter.

When you press your hand against him, his hips rock and you reach to untie his loincloth. He doesn’t rush you, he doesn’t stop you. Aonung just watches with eyes blown to black moons ringed in turquoise, face following your movements, as though he wants to stay as close to you as possible.

When you finally pull away his loincloth, you have to bite back a gasp. You aren’t intimidated, per se, but the sheer size of him is slightly breathtaking. Never once, in all your filthy imaginations, had you truly dared to factor in the sheer size of him. Just by looking at his massive muscular body, one could guess, but they'd still have their fucking minds blown. He's big. So fucking big it has your eyes bulging and heart thumping and mouth almost watering. His cock is just as beautiful as him, just as smooth pale blue with the delicate darker stripes and glowing tahnì.

When you reach out and touch it, his hips jerk slightly and his pupils widen as your smaller hand closes gently around it. Aonung’s looking at you with worship in those beautiful eyes, lips parted and breath heavy as you shift your hand slowly up and down. All the while, you can imagine the size of it pressing into you, stretching you, ruining you. Aonung seems to be thinking the same thing, because all too soon he’s lifting you up and tugging you closer as though you weigh nothing. He places you over his lap.

“Here,” he says gently, guiding your hips to rock lightly against him. The length of his cock slides along the seam of your cunt, both of you breathing heavily at the warm smear of slick you leave across him, grinding against his lap. He props himself up so he can capture you in a deep kiss, swallowing each others lewd moans at the friction. Heat is growing fast, too fast, everywhere in your body- in your face and heart and thighs and you tremble slightly at the drag of your hips over his.

Impatience for the teasing growing in both of you, Aonung gently flips you over so you’re lying beneath him, back carefully resting against the bed, and lining himself up at his entrance. At the slightest movement, your legs stretching further around his body as he presses slightly onto his cock, you know it's going to be a stretch.

“Fuck yawne,” he groans, as he pushes past the first ring of resistance and slowly starts to slide in. “You’re tighter than I ever imagined. Are you okay?”

You nod breathlessly, clutching hard to his shoulders as he slides even deeper, biting your lip. You don’t care that it turns out you weren’t rivals, you weren’t about to let Aonung see how tense you are. But he can probably feel it, given that you’re clenching around him already, and he hasn’t even bottomed out yet.

He just goes in and in and in. When you think he’s all in, he rocks another inch into you and whispers how well you’re doing. He’s careful to be gentle, stroking your hair and muttering praise to you- but you’re still impatient.

You hardly care how much you get hurt, just wanting him inside you, stretching you, marking you, ruining you, and you drop further down so the head of his cock starts to press into you. You try to lift, to fuck yourself further onto his cock, and he holds you down to adjust.

It’s not like you want the pause when he finally bottoms out, but you sit and breathe and whimper, trying to get used to the burning stretch of it all. Aonung’s breathing heavily too, trembling with the effort it’s obviously taking him not to just move and rut and demolish you. When he shakily looks up, his eyes meet yours, all dark with lust and wide with ecstacy, and he finally pulls out just an inch before snapping it back into you.

You gasp, and Aonung hisses. When he’s sure you’re alright, he pulls out, pushes back in, and you annihilate the last pretences of rivalry. It seems impossible now, that you once disliked him. Hated those blue eyes raking over you, despised the large hands holding you so gently while he thrusts into you, detested that smile with those lips that now make you melt.

You’re gasping and moaning and cursing with every thrust, breath getting knocked the fuck out of you again and again and again until you’re living off the tiny moments in which he’s pulled out, where you feel cold and empty and longing to be stuffed and stretched around him again.

It doesn’t take long for that familiar heat to grow again, and by the way Aonung is hissing and groaning and burying his face in your neck, you can tell he’s close too. His hands are gripping the bed so tightly you wouldn’t be surprised if it broke. When you arch up, tits pressing against his chest in a way that makes him moan shamelessly, you can see every muscle in his back rippling, each muscle in his arm taut as he thrusts into you. It has you clenching tight around him.

“Fuck,” he’s muttering, again and again, large and muscular and heavy above you.

You aren’t sure what makes you do it, maybe your natural, primal urge to beat him like you’ve always longed to is taking over, but you’re suddenly rolling over and pushing him back against the bed. His eyes are wide and worshipful as you steady yourself with hands on his chest, hands jumping to your hips pressed against his own, him sheathed deep inside you.

You rock on him, thighs burning as you lift yourself up and down in a welcome pain, that familiar coil building up and up and up. Aonung stares up at you, eyes wide and dark and curious and worshipful and hungry. And then it suddenly crests, in a welcome, overwhelming flood of pleasure.

You aren’t even aware of it- too busy ascending into fucking heaven, stuck in a place where you cant see or hear or do anything- you just know wave upon wave of overwhelming pleasure crashing into and over you. When you slowly come down, vision returning in bright bursts, you have a split second to note the awe and reverence in Aonung’s eyes before something seems to take over him, and his gaze is darkening and he’s lost control.

It never occurred to you, just how gentle he’d been, until he’s completely let go, allowed the crushing desire to overcome him. He's half thrusting up into you, half picking up and slamming down your body onto him, and you're unravelling into a moaning, trembling mess on top of him, teeth sunk into his shoulder to try and quiet your sounds, because you sure as fuck can't hold them in.

You yelp as he speeds up now, brutal and animalistic as the last tenterhooks of his final restraint snaps and he buries himself deep inside you. He's hissing a million unintelligible words against your skin as he spills himself inside you, rocking his hips the whole time until he finally comes to a shaky stop.

You can’t breathe. You don’t know if you want to- you’re perfectly content as you just collapse against Aonung, lying warmly against his solid chest, his muscular arms automatically reaching out to wrap around you and roll you over so he can cuddle you properly. He presses a gentle kiss to your collar, before speaking softly.

“Are you alright?” he asks quietly.

You can’t think of anything to say, you just exhale shakily and give a small, trembly laugh, holding his hand in yours and leaning against him.

“Change your mind about me?” Aonung asks lightly. “Still think I’m a skxawng?”

“Absolutely,” you huff, grinning up at him. “I should get home-”

“Stay,” Aonung says, hugging you closer. “This will be your home, might as well get used to it.”

You smile against his chest. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this, not when a day ago, he was your rival. But you’re more than happy to try, so you lean your head into the crook of his shoulder, his arm trailing down to cloak the curve of your waist.

“We have training in the morning,” you point out. “The warriors will be-”

“Our warriors won’t be anything I say they shouldn’t be,” Aonung shrugs. “You’re forgetting who you’re lying with.”

You roll your eyes.

“Skxawng.”

#avatar fanfiction #avatar fandom #aonung x reader #aonung x female reader #avatar smut #aonung fanfiction #aonung fic #avatar the way of water #avatar #aonung

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fanami · 1 year

Text

Showcasing the all new redesigns of the main cast.

#fanami #cute #smash hit entertainment #fangirl #mr game and watch #r.o.b.#nora #myths #ocs

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desperate-gay · 4 months

Note

Your fiancé is insufferable.

When she’s showering you with kisses all over your face after games and whispering phrases that make your heart swell, you forget the fact of the matter. But when you’re ruining each other for anyone else in the confined walls of your bedroom, she reminds you of it every time.

Mary Earps is insufferable.

“Baby, no…”

“Baby, yes.” She returns with that signature smirk of hers that makes your body reset for the fifth orgasm of the night. Almost.

She’s laid down on her back, knees bent, and one arm stretched over your lower back. The other is adjusting the strap that was the reason for the recent two orgasms. The other three were because like you said, she loves being a nuisance in the bedroom. Making you so sensitive, you’re an aching mess post session.

You’re on top of her with your legs over her waist and hands on her stomach trying to find anything to hold onto in efforts of focusing more on your grip versus the slow grinds Mary has started with her own hips again.

“Just give me one more. You’re so beautiful.”

You whine and moan and it was already too much a few minutes ago. She knows you and your body more than yourself sometimes, so you’d be lying if you even entertained the idea of her crossing boundaries. Maybe you just didn’t want to be a riled up mess in her arms. This led to endless teases of the effect she had on you.

“Oh my god, Mary.” You cry out and quickly move your hands under her back, hugging her. Needing something, anything, to hold onto tightly. You feel so vulnerable, but safe all at the same time. Your face is buried into her neck and your noises are right in her ear. This was her favorite part of you straddling her.

Mary goes insane when you turn to her for comfort and safety. That’s why she loves making you as a vulnerable as possible. No one else gets to see this side of you, not if she has anything to say about it. Your writhing moans, cries, and nail marks that you leave all over her body. Mary is the name you’re yelling or whispering during your most exposed moments.

You went from bouncing up and down like a wild animal, taking what’s yours, to surrendering all control to her as she moved away from slow grinds and now rough slams up and down. Your thighs are getting tight around hers now, trying to feel anything but how she feels inside of you.

“Feels good, yeah? This is all I thought about at night in my hotel room. Let me make you feel good now.”

You can feel tears pricking at your eyes. In bed, at her hands, is the only time Mary tolerates you having an innocent cry. Any other time, for any other reason, breaks her heart. It makes her cold knowing that you can feel sadness or hurt. It introduces another side of her that makes you love your fiancé all the more.

But this side, right here right now. The one that’s going back and forth between fast thrusts and slow grinds makes you want to throw your engagement ring across the room.

“Just give it to me, please…”

The hand that made your ass cheeks red just a few minutes ago moves to grip your hair and rip your face away from her neck. She wants you to look at her, while you came undone.

“Look at me, fiancé.”

She’s fucking smirking.

You’re usually vocal and communicative, telling her how good she makes you feel and how her hands work wonders. But you’re lost for words at just how smug she looks after putting you in such a damning position. Minutes ago, you’re trying to move away and now she is getting her way, as expected.

You know what? You were going to make her suffer a bit too.

You pulled your head down into a soft kiss and moaned into her mouth which led her to readjust. The strap hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you and Mary (being oh so attentive to just how violent your hips moved in response) maintained that position so the long awaited orgasm would arrive just a little bit sooner for you.

She tried to pull away from the kiss to catch her breath with her forehead resting on yours, but you smashed your lips right back into her. Biting her bottom lip in the process. Like you said, let’s wind her up a bit too.

“I would’ve orgasmed by now if it was at the hands of-“

She doesn’t let you finish your sentence. You’re getting bratty which means she’s not making you weak enough. Your words are swallowed up instead by the quick hands slapping your ass and rapid thrusts into you cunt.

“Fuck, stop. Mary, oh my god.”

“Stop? You don’t mean that.”

You’re screaming now and your hands are at the sides of her head on the pillow with your face turned to the right and eyes clenched. It’s so much and she’s right which makes it worse. You don’t mean it all.

The hand that has been going back and forth between your ass and face comes back to grab your cheek and turn it to face straight towards her.

“You’ll never be at the hands of anyone else. Don’t say dumb things because you’re too fucked to think straight.”

Shit, that’s getting you off. Her possessiveness always makes you a stuttering mess. You’re closer and with the pace of her thrusts that are absolutely relentless, the orgasm is unavoidable.

“I’m sorry I’m- FUCK. Mary, I’m coming.”

“Louder, get louder.”

You’re able to get a glance at the woman under you and it’s apparent that she’s getting off of your every movement as well. Your noises, your body, your showcase of being a brat even. You chanted out her name even louder as she smiled up at you, continuing to grind her hips inside you in a vile motion whilst you rode out your orgasm.

Everything is suddenly a blur and you think the movements that are still being initiating by Mary are for her more than they are for yourself.

“You okay, love?”

You don’t respond. You face has found her neck once more and now she’s tracing gentle circles on your back. You need a moment because what the fuck. Your legs are still twitching in some moments and just knowing how much Mary will rejoice in it gives you the strength to pick your head back up.

“Why can’t you just be normal?”

She chuckles at that and widens her eyes, almost as if she’s looking at you like you’re being ridiculous.

“Normal? What’s weird about taking care of the sexual fire ignited by my lover?”

“Five, Earps. I won’t be able to walk tomorrow, I think.”

“You’ve taken more.”

“They weren’t that intense back to back,” You roll your eyes playfully and damn those eyes of hers have you losing yourself in them. Post sex and they’re lustful, but also just such a reminder of your Mary at the same time. “You’ll be in the doghouse next time.”

“Oh Mary .. Just give it to me Mary .. my god …”

She’s mocking your noises and words now and you hastily move to get off of her, ignoring the feeling that the removal of the strap does to your cunt. She knows all the buttons to press.

You hear her laugh and her strong hands which you can’t compete with drag you back down on the bed. There she is, showering you with kisses all over your cheeks. Then your forehead, right under your eyes, on your chin. Then lastly, just so softly right on your lips.

“Marry me.”

You smirk and it scares you just how perfect everything feels. “I already am.” You say as you lift your hand with your ring finger having the rock she gifted to you a few weeks ago after you said yes almost immediately when she popped the question.

That makes Mary smile and kiss you once more.

“Why did you say that comment about someone else’s hands? I didn’t like that.”

“I’m sorry. It’s like you said, I was too dazed by you fucking the life out of me, Earps. Needed to give you payback.”

“Okay. But I didn’t like it.”

“Well, I hope not.”

It’s your turn to laugh this time and you give her a comforting kiss on her shoulder to ease the disgusted look on her face. She is without a doubt, picturing you with someone else. You make a mental note of apologizing to her in your naughty way another night.

The moment is followed by silence and you guys are just looking at each other like you’re the only people not in the room, but the world. At least that’s how it feels.

“You’re perfect, baby.”

“Mary…”

“You are.”

“Nothing and nobody is perfect.”

“You’re the closest thing.”

She whispers the last sentence so so softly and your heart is racing fast. She gives you butterflies, makes you feel like you’re the only girl in the world, and reduces you to putty all within the span of hours? Minutes? You’re ruined. You’re so fucked. The solace is that she’s with you, forever.

“Don’t make me cry.”

“Okay. Give me a kiss.”

You move up to kiss her and it’s the most intimate part of the night. Because it’s after you’ve come undone, after she’s taken care of you. It’s after you’ve clarified that you’re marrying her and there’s no one else for you.

Your fiancé is insufferable. But she’s yours. And you’re hers.

okay WHOEVER this is make fics bc omg

#mary earps x reader #woso x reader #woso

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marlynnofmany · 5 months

Text

Finger Talking

Captain Sunlight had said that these clients didn’t speak any trade language she’d ever learned, and as I caught sight of the two intelligent being who looked like the end result of what happens if hummingbirds nudge into anteaters’ ecological niche, I didn’t find that hard to believe.

They were green-feathered, flightless birds, with long beaks, longer tongues, and clawed feet dexterous enough to type out messages on the big keyboard they had laid out on the ground. It looked like the kind of thing I would have danced on as a kid. I pretended that I wasn’t imagining doing that now, as the shorter of the two sent a message onto the display screen that they wanted to haggle.

Mur stepped forward, tapping my ankle with a tentacle to say he had it covered. “Oh, you want to pay more? Double price, please.”

The beaky birds were of course grumpy about this. The short one typed quickly in a fashion that I was amused to realize was hunt-and-peck.

I looked down at Mur, who was cheerfully braiding grass with two tentacles, and waving several others like he was conducting an invisible squid orchestra. He was enjoying himself.

The screen beeped that the message was ready. It read, “We know our rocks are valuable to you. Ten barrels of your rocks for each barrel of our rocks.”

Okay, I hadn’t actually known the price that had been set ahead of time for this little exchange. These folks didn’t use standard currency, so when they sent out a request via random traveler for someone to bring them coal — something that was scarce their planet — in trade for shiny rocks that they had in abundance, Captain Sunlight had gone for it.

And if the rough gemstones bedazzling the cart that these birds had come in were any sign, we were about to make a very good deal no matter what the exchange rate was.

Mur said, “Two for one is already pretty generous. I’ll raise it to three, how about that?”

The birds conferred with each other briefly, making noises that echoed like someone trilling their tongue down a long tube — which was a pretty accurate description of what was happening, really. The short one typed in a reply.

I caught a glimpse of “8 for 1” before the alien technology did what technology everywhere does best: it failed unexpectedly. The screen spasmed wild patterns before going dark, and no amount of punching the keys made it light up again.

“Hm,” Mur said to me. “This could put a crimp in things. Maybe we should call Coals or Trrili?”

“They mostly do written translation,” I said. “And Trrili doesn’t strike me as the tactful sort.”

Mur twirled a tentacle to say I’d made a good point, while the birds tried to revive their tech with no luck. “I guess we just throw out numbers until we hit on something they look happy with,” he said. “This is going to be rough.”

“It shouldn’t be too bad,” I said. “At least they’ve learned the language, even though they can’t speak it. Honestly, I’ve had worse conversations before my vet training covered Gorilla Sign Language.”

He looked up at the unfamiliar word. “Nationality?”

“Species. Long story. Remind me to tell you about Citizen Animals on Earth.”

The birds were starting to disassemble the keyboard casing, using their claws like precision tools (though the tall one gave me the impression that more vigorous smashing was an eagerly-anticipated Plan B). They looked up when I stepped forward, holding up fingers.

“Five for one.” I flicked the fingers one at a time to count. “Five of ours, for one of yours.”

They caught on immediately, and luckily for all of us, they had the right number of talon-fingers to make this primitive conversation work.

Mur was no help, standing two steps back and holding up excessive numbers of tentacles, entertaining only himself. The birds and I managed to ignore him.

We settled on seven-for-one. I could have pushed for six, but I felt bad for them, and anyway I knew that we had the coal already portioned out into fourteen crates. The math was easier this way.

As we walked back toward the ship, to start bringing out the crates that Blip and Blop were unloading at the door, Mur chuckled beside me. “That was fun. I want to come up with ways to communicate like that more. Maybe cheating at table games.”

“I’d offer to teach you some actual sign language,” I said, “But everything I know is designed with fingers in mind.”

“That’s okay. I don’t need proper language to beat the scales off Eggskin. C’mon, it’ll be great. I’ll win several rounds in a row, they’ll get annoyed and demand to know how, I’ll explain, then refuse to give any winnings back. Perfect plan. Great times.”

I had to smile at that. “We’ll see,” I said. “First let’s finish the actual business.”

“Yep, yep, can’t forget that,” Mur agreed. “Maybe we’ll play table games with expensive rocks as tokens, like the high-society snobs we all are.”

“Sounds like great times to me,” I said.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #technology doing what technology does best #fail unexpectedly #that part's my favorite line; no lie #sign language #in spaaace

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champi8n · 1 year

Text

die for you | ethan landry

ethan landry x fem reader

warnings: slightly suggestive

sypnosis: ethan isn’t sure wether his feelings for you are unrequited until he finally opens his eyes

ethan had been watching you for a while and he believes developing feelings for you has been one of the worst things to ever happen to him

you and ethan met at a frat party through chad, he thought it would be a good idea to introduce you two to each other since according to chad you both fit perfectly in his definition of “geeks”

geeks are often associated to be losers like him but ethan knew from the moment he laid his eyes on you that you were no geek, he knew from the way you spoke to him so confidently and how you’re body language radiated control

he knew from how he had seen you dancing earlier and from how he wasn’t able to take his eyes off you, well it wasn’t just him but what in his eyes is everybody

you were charming and you had him wrapped around your finger from that first conversation, ethan remembers the sound of your laughter as he told you a dumb star wars joke and how your eyes seemed to sparkle from the low lights in the room

you stayed with him in a corner of the party all night and ethan is sure you only did that because you felt bad as you realised he was left alone, yet he wasn’t complaining because from that day on you guys became good friends

you and ethan had a free period at the same time so when you saw him waiting by a cafe near campus you approached him straight away without a single drop of shyness

was he shocked? yes, he wasn’t used to being approached in such a warm manner by people he’s only talked to once, he was more used to people pretending he doesn’t exist after they’ve had conversations with him yet he wasn’t complaining about that change in his routine

you guys talked about anything and soon you became someone very special in his heart, he knew he felt attraction towards you from when he first met you but he didn’t expect attraction to turn into real feelings

“what if you just tell her you have a friend that looks just likes you that thinks she’s fine?” chad spoke

ethan had been laying on the floor of their room staring at the roof for around an hour while having a small therapy session with chad

he wasn’t really sure how chad could help him get over his feelings for you but he definitely knew more than himself, he was inexperienced, clumsy, and he’s gotten rejected by all of his crushes with them saying “ew” at him

“she’s obviously gonna know i’m talking about myself, chad” ethan sighed, turning his head to the left to make eye contact with chad “you know she once told me about how she hates being hit on, what if she starts hating me?”

“that’s not gonna happen because she obviously has the feels for you” ethan frowned, almost sure that chad was probably delusional

“i don’t know what world you’re living in, but i’m quite sure she will never look at me that way, it’s like she doesn’t take me seriously”

“are you kidding? ethan i’ve seen the way y/n looks at you and believe me i’ve heard her talk about you too” as soon as those words came out of chad’s mouth, ethan immediately sat up intrigued

“what has she said?” chad notices the light in ethan’s eyes and proceeds to let out a chuckle at seeing how childishly in love he looks

“well whenever she sees me she asks about you, or when we are talking she brings you up at random moments” a tiny smile begins to form in ethan’s face, he’s using all of his force to try and block that smile away but the joy of knowing you talk about him too is overwhelming for him “oh wait, i just remembered something... we once played smash or pass and she said she would smash you” chad said "she didn't even hesitate, I remember"

ethan’s jaw dropped a little bit at the unexpected comment causing chad to burst out laughing even more

“shut up, it’s not funny!” ethan threw a pillow at him, flustered and embarrassed at how chad seemed entertained with his excitement

“god you’re such a virgin” chad said between chuckles, causing ethan to stand up ready to defend himself

but as he was walking towards chad, the two of them heard something. three knocks at the door left him and chad frozen while they both stared at the source of the noise

it was midnight and he wasn’t used to the door being knocked at such late hours, specially on a tuesday

him and chad share a confused look and as ethan is slowly walking towards the door to peek through the peep hole, two more knocks were heard but this time accompanied with a voice

“ethan? it’s me”

he heard you whisper and as soon as you did he felt panic run through his body as he realised he was only wearing a black tank top paired with R2 D2 pijama trousers

he was going to try and change his outfit quick but his fear came true as soon as chad opened the door, revealing you with a zip up sweater and low waisted jeans

“hey y/n, what’s up?” chad smiled at you, gesture which you did back “i was just going out to buy some … crack” chad said, leaving you a little bit confused but you weren’t gonna question it

“okay, have fun…i guess?” you watched as chad walked off, mumbling a yep, making you lay your eyes back on ethan

you had never seen ethan wearing anything like what he was wearing and you were completely not expecting it

you let your eyes wander for a minute, looking at him shamelessly, you could feel your heart racing as you realise how muscly he actually was and how strong he seems, yet it was all contrasted with his pijama bottoms and you couldn’t help but think he’s adorable

ethan did not let that go pass him, he saw the way you had checked him out and a light pink covered his cheeks, embarrassed and at the same time curious on wether you liked what you see

“are you okay, shouldn’t you be finishing your log?” ethan asked, you had mentioned earlier this week you had a final piece of coursework for your major

you were a fashion major so your work for school was almost always practical

“i know but i just…” you paused, mouth dry at the sight of him and fingers fidgeting because of your nerves “i needed to see you”

ethan raises his eyebrows, surprised at the remark and honestly speechless

“move, let me come in” you pushed past him, making yourself comfortable in his bed trying to leave what you said behind, ethan followed you with his eyes, closing the door behind him and sitting backwards on chad’s chair

“I need you to be my model for my piece and I must take your measurements” you dropped one of the reasons for your visit, ready to hear ethan's complaining

“no!" he said, not even thinking it through "there is no way in hell I'm modeling"

“why not? you're perfect model material" you sat up in his bed, looking at him with pleading eyes

"are you crazy? chad is more model material than me, models are meant to be pretty-"

"and you're pretty, you're a pretty boy!" you cut him off, not even thinking twice before letting your thoughts out

ethan raised his eyebrows at your comment, letting his mouth fall open but he couldn't seem to form anything coherent to say

noticing how you left him speechless you decide to keep talking "please just be my model, i really want to make you something"

the boy sighed, he felt powerless under your gaze and at the same time at complete peace

"fine" he rolled his eyes and you immediately jumped out of his bed to give him a warm hug that was well received by ethan since you could feel him caressing your back

"thank you, thank you, thank you! i promise you won't regret it, it's going to be so much fun" you pulled back, smiling at him and pulling from your back pocket a roll of measuring tape

"wow you knew I wasn't going to say no, didn't you?” ethan asked seeing how moved to chad's desk, grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil and putting them on the floor next to him

"okay, here's what i need you to do, you're gonna stand still and look pretty, okay" you grabbed his shoulders as you spoke and then proceeded to kneel down in front of him

you caught him off guard a hundred percent, i mean, you were on your knees in front of him and his brain forgot what you actually intended to do until he saw your hand reach for the measuring tape

he gulped as he looked down on you and he tried to focus on literally anything else that would push his dirty thoughts away yet his attempts were useless as he felt your hands around his waist raising his tank top up a little and wrapping the tape around his skin

you moved to his side and then wrote down on the piece of paper a number he couldn't really see from where he was

after that you measured his leg length and then stood up to do his shoulders and torso, you seemed so concentrated he couldn't help but admire the way you bit your lip and the way your eyes mildly squinted to read the numbers in the tape

there was silence but it wasn't awkward, it was comfortable and he swore he could stay like this forever, watching you do your work and appreciating every small detail about you

"one sec" you said, interrupting his thoughts, you took off your zip up sweater leaving it in the hanger the boys had in their room, revealing the white tube top you had hidden underneath, leaving ethan stunned

you weren't naive and you noticed how ethan's adam's apple bounced as his eyes looked away from you, happy on the inside that you seemed to have an effect on him

"you seem nervous" you walked towards him, a small smile painted in your face from how he couldn't look you in the eye "you're going to be amazing as my model, you shouldn't be" he looked at you, giving you a tense smile

ethan felt a little relieved since he thought you had caught on to him yet his eyes followed your movements as you put your arms on his shoulders, massaging them slowly and ready to make your move

"you’re acting as if you have a little crush…" you teased him, seeing how his eyes widened “on me”

“what?!” he screamed followed by incoherent words and stuttering “I don't know what you're talking about, I don't... like you” he stated, hoping he sounded believable

disappointment ran through your body, feeling how your chest started to feel heavy as embarrassment got a hold of you

he noticed how your expression changed and how you almost seemed sad, yet he couldn't understand why

until it hit him, what if he was wrong all along? what if chad was right and you actually felt the same as him? what if he just ruined his chances with you and he just hurt your feelings on accident?

he stood there frozen in his place as you put strands of your hair behind your ear, quickly moving to pick up the measuring tape from the floor and the piece of paper, folding it as fast as you can and putting it in your back pocket

you were confident and strong but if you were being honest it was mostly a big facade and deep inside you can't help but be extremely sensitive, no matter how much you try to hide it

you felt like an idiot as you quickly rolled the measuring tape, thinking about how stupid of you it was to have such the audacity to be as delusional to listen to your friends and believe ethan could actually feel something for you too

you were dying of nerves as you walked to his dorm that evening yet as you stood outside you were built with courage to try and make a real move on ethan today, not just telling him his hair looked nice or that you liked his shirt like you always did

now you were just filled with regret as you couldn't even look him in the eyes “i'm going to go now, I'll text you if um, when the piece is done”

you quickly walked towards his door, wanting to escape the silence that was slowly becoming unbearable for you as fast as you could, not even bothering to get your zip up

as you opened the door ready to walk away you heard him move behind you and soon you felt a hand wrap around your arm, pulling you back harshly

“don’t please” he said before quickly engulfing you in a soft kiss

your hands found their place in his hair as his went to your waist, you caressed his hair as you felt him feel your back

the kiss was soft and gentle, yet the innocence of the kiss quickly escalated into a hungry kiss, he bit softly at your lip to your surprise but you were not going to complain

it was almost desperate but at the same time deeply sentimental almost as if he was transmitting all of his feelings and desires to you, he had longed for you for a while now and he needed you to know

soon you were pressed against his wall as you wished for the moment to never end but of course, all that's good has to end

as you both were running out of breath he pulled away from you in a delicate manner, leaving you feeling as if you were going to melt away from how overwhelmed you felt by your own feelings

he chuckled lightly, resting his forehead on your shoulder and you did the same, laughing in disbelief at what just happened

“are you sure you're a virgin?” you asked, making him laugh even more, you could see his chest going up and down from him trying to catch his breath again

he looked up at you again, big wide smile on his face, his cheeks had a red flush and his eyes glittered, making you have a funny feeling in your stomach at how perfect he looked

“just in case you didn't catch the hint... i like you a lot” he said, making you smile in relief

“no way, really?” you said jokingly, making him roll his eyes “if you really do then I think you should go on a date with me tomorrow” his eyebrows raised in surprise, did you just ask him out on a date?

“you're going to kill me someday” he said, walking backwards and brushing a hand through his hair, you bite your lip, nervous but trying to not let the nerves get the best of you

“is that a yes?” you ask and you look as he laughs

“of course it's a yes dumbass, can you not see how flustered you've made me?” you chuckle, looking at him with glowy eyes, completely immersed in the boy in front of you “why are you looking at me like that?”he asked

“like what?”you replied, completely oblivious to what he meant, making him sigh

“with those eyes, you’re making me nervous!” he replied making you laugh

“well then i’m gonna leave now so you can relax” you said as you walked over to the hanger, getting your zip up to then head towards the already open door

ethan rested his arm on the door frame, leaning towards it as you stood outside “will you call?” he asked, making you want to kiss him again

“no, i’ll send a bird to your window holding a message, it’s more romantic” you leaned in to kiss him cheek and with that you start walking away

“text me when you get to your room” he screamed down the hallway, watching you as you turned back while you walked

“i will!” you reply with a smile, swinging your hips as you walked away overwhelmed with happiness

ethan closed his door and went straight fall on his bed, he couldn’t get that dumb smile off his face and he laughed at himself because of how wrong he was, he doesn’t know what you saw in him but who’s he to complain? he finally has the girl of his dreams smiling because of him

he’s grateful to whatever it was because now that he has you, he doesnt plan on letting you go

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ghostface #ghostface x you #scream 6 #scream #fluff

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snowy-vee · 2 months

Text

밤양갱 (Bam Yang Gang) Ellie W.

n/a: I wrote this today, 1.7K words, I have zero idea why but since my inspiration is not going towards my published on going stories, I decided to be writing things and posting them, to not lose the fun. ENJOY!

warnings: emotional eating(? mostly like binge behaviour but not like BED.

DON'T FORGET YOUR DAILY CLICK

You were running behind her trying to catch up to her but her steps were firm, and by the way she walked, you knew she was truly angry. You had messed up this time.

All your friends stayed in the bar after the scene you caused ¿Was it truly all you though? That girl was too close to Ellie, giggling, touching her arm, whispering things in her ear and you had to watch that from the other side of the table, having to endure the occasional glances from your friends. They were seeing it too but there was no way they were going to say anything, they just wanted to know if you were okay with what was happening.

How could you be? Why was Ellie letting that happen? Why was she smiling too? Her face was slightly red, you wanted to assume that it was the alcohol and not the words that were mutter in her ear by the girl, a pretty one… No, you couldn’t stay calm, not when it felt as if you were the one who didn’t belong. So when you stood up and your drink was emptied on the girls’s head, everyone gasped.

She screamed calling you ‘crazy bitch’, Jesse had to hold you to not jump over the table and show her how crazy you could be. Ellie grabbed your arm, dragging you outside of the bar, you were still screaming harmful things to her.

The cold breeze of the winter hit your hot face but you were fuming and you would’ve have kept screaming if it wasn’t for the demanding tone on Ellie’s voice telling you that it was enough, that’s how you were now running towards her. She stopped her walk and turn around, making you stop to and catch your breath.

There was a big gap between you two in that alley that you two end up with only some lamppost with low lights, she scoffed “You always want way too much. If I even look away for a sec, It’s like my brain’s on fire, you are way too intense, but you did there was just embarrassing, not only for me but for you, I hope you are aware of that”

You bit your lip, nodding slowly, trying to hold your tears while she was looking down at you. You had words stuck on your throat waiting to be thrown up, all your feelings, your mind was sending them as if it was keyboard smashing but when you opened your mouth only three words came out “Yes, I’m sorry”

“I bet you are” She simply said turning around and start to walk away again, leaving you there, cold hugging your bones making you shiver as you saw her vanished in the shadows of the night. The lights started flickering which made you come back from your little trance, swiping the drops that escaped your eyes.

You started walking opposite direction of her, not back to your friends, you couldn’t bear the humiliation that you brought by ‘‘overreacting’’ and if you saw that girl again you would not hesitate to break all her bones even if the rage had left your body after the glacial words of Ellie. The green neon lights of some 24h store made you enter it without saying hello, straight to grab a basket and fill it with a lot of sweets, not even caring about the price.

It look tasty? In. It had chocolate? In. Was it sweet chestnut red bean jelly? One of Ellie’s favourites, you had to have it in your stomach, maybe it would reach your heart and it would feel complete since Ellie liked the candy. You’ve watched her devour them throughout your relationship, maybe this would devour your heart the same way she was doing and make it explode because of all the sugar.

The walk to you house was entertaining as you chew slowly the fifth chocolate bar, this one had prunes in it, which made you gag a little bit, but you still ate it. It was gross but sweet at the same time, like a toxic relationship, like yours with Ellie ¿Right? Your relationship was addictive like chocolate but prudes came along and made it gross.

¿What were you doing? Comparing your relationship with food was stupid but as you enter your home, kicking off your shoes and sitting on the floor with your back resting on the couch, your thighs touching your chest and your mouth wide open while throwing half bag of acid candy inside of it. Your eye twitched, your mouth got out of your mouth involuntary and instant regret filled your facial expression but you laughed it off watching your reflect in the TV.

The memories when Ellie and you made stupid mistakes that later on would become in little stories that made you laugh when in the moment of the heat, it made you both cry, be mad, storm off the room but the moment your eyes met again it was all hugs, kisses and little ‘I’m sorry, I love you’. Thinking about that while you opened the cream buns and started munching one by one.

You bought two packs that came with three buns each, so you end up eating six buns. Your stomach was starting to feel weird and it made you feel nauseous but your mind was pushing you to keep eating, there was a void to fill and nothing you were eating seemed to satisfy the need, you were getting more desperate as the salty taste of your tears mix with the sweetness of the strawberry puffs.

Maybe if you weren’t so afraid of speaking your mind when the confrontation comes, things would be different but you were so scared that your words would drive her away that you just kept silent and apologized seconds later after your mistake, even if it wasn’t your fault, even if it irritated Ellie that you never spoke your mind, you just bottled up and exploded later on overdoing it. The thing was, that she knew what stuff made you act up and she still do them to get any reaction from you.

Tonight was not the first interaction Ellie had with the girl, all those other hangouts she clung on her as if she was the girlfriend and not you, pushing you away or sitting besides Ellie before you could, etc. You kept silent, swallowing all your thoughts, creating a pot of full venom on your stomach that you blurred out this night.

¿Why Ellie wanted to push you to show that she was yours? She should’ve created space between them two too. You sighed, you should’ve told her that, you needed to start communicating much better, stop eating your feeling and making you sick for days.

You look at the deflated plastic bag, anxiety running through your body ¿There was nothing left? ¿You ate everything? That was impossible, you needed to replace what was missing in your heart. You grabbed the bag upside down, shaking it until a red plastic envelope fall… the sweet chestnut red bean jelly, the last candy.

You wanted to eat it slowly, you were chewing and swallowing, barely feeling what was entering your belly, but this one? You had to. You took a small bite and started chewing slowly, feeling the soft jellied texture of it with the right level of sweetness letting the red bean flavour shine with its earthy taste and a hint of nuttiness.

Ellie’s face while eating it appeared in your head, a big smile, her cheeks full of it and begging you to try it, which you’ve never did, always thinking that it was a weird combination of flavours. The shine in her green eyes whenever she could find them in any store, buying at least three pack, the time she wanted to dye her auburn hair the same red as the bean jelly but you talked her out of it, the day she tried to bake it and almost got intoxicated…

The candy was halfway done. You looked at your phone, it’s been hours since you two went different directions ¿Did she arrived okay at home? Did she turn around and try to come back at you? ¿Did she go back to the bar? It did not matter, you missed her, you wanted to talk to her, you both needed that to go to sleep, you knew it. She was not going to call first, she was stubborn, so it was in your sweaty hands as you dialled her number.

…

She picked up, you could hear her breath, no words. You wanted to be firmed, not cold but neutral, one ‘We have to talk, be matured about this, communication’ and that was it, but maybe because of how sticky the jelly was around your tongue, your next words were completely different:

“So, I have half a red bean jelly and I know how much you liked them, I was thinking that maybe I could save it for later but It would go bad, Can I go to your house and give it to you?”

You facepalmed yourself mentally, closing your eyes and letting your head rest in the couch seat, looking at the ceiling, repeating the word ‘stupid’ all over without making a sound. Ellie clicked her tongue and you heard the zip of something and the sound of some keys.

“I’m on my way” She said ending the call, your eyes almost popped looking at your phone’s screen. Your tired body suddenly was hit with an energy boost, you stood up and looked at the floor full of packages of sweets, you looked at yourself in the mirror, you looked like a disaster.

The way you cleaned everything and still had time to cleaned up yourself a little bit made you think that maybe you acquired a new power, you were sure it had a name…

Knock, Knock. There she was, you don’t needed to check, you knew it because of the way your heart jumped pushing you towards the door, opening it and letting her in.

As she walked in, her eyes not even checking you, your body felt weak but excited at the same time. You were more than ready to speak your mind, you were so ready that the word you were searching before came through your mind.

Sugar Rush.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams au #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie the last of us #elliewilliams #ellie williams #angst #fluff #ellie williams angst #snowy vee #ellie tlou #ellie fanfic #bibi #bam yang gang #Spotify

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heeseung-min · 1 year

Text

[06:31]

"Riki riki..no please- not that. I don't want that. Please, anything but that Riki."

You fell to the floor and backing away from him while he was getting closer to you. Your boyfriend chuckled at "cute" sight of you.

"How would people know you are mine then, baby? How would they know they shouldn't touch you?"

You can't run away anymore when your back collided with the wall. Riki squatted himself to have a clear look on your panic face. You shakingly hold his hand begging for his forgiveness.

"I'm sorry. I will not let them do that anymore, okay? I- I will just interact and not getting too close with them. Riki, please?"

"What would you say then when they ask you about it? Hmm?"

"I- I will just-"

"You show them that you are mine, baby. That's why I need to do this to you. It's for your own good too. You are for mine only."

"But not this way, Riki. We can try something else, it will still work."

Riki became silent after you said that. You thought he was thinking about it and you thought you can avoid the punishment. However, the shattered glass said otherwise.

Riki took the hockey stick near him and started to smash everything. You screamed after hit by hit. The shattered sound traumatize you so bad. Even when you shouted to him to stop, he ignored you. You closed your eyes and ears tightly wishing for it to end.

Riki throw the stick away before walked back to you. The sight of you being so scared entertaining him so much. He hold your chin gently so you can look at him. Ahh, the tears on your eyes alluring him. It should be illegal to be this beautiful when you are crying.

"I'm- I'm sorry, Riki. Please, don't do that anymore. I'm sorry."

"I love you, baby. So much. You love me too, right?"

"Yes, yes! I love you too."

---

Riki hummed as he finally done with the work. He brought you to stand in front of the mirror and hugged you from behind.

"See, you look beautiful with my name there."

You stared at his name that carved below your collarbone. The fact that it is not a tattoo scared you so much.

"This way, you will always be mine. They can't take you away from me."

He sniffed behind your ear before started to kiss around your neck.

"You are mine after all."

-----

😟😟😟dang cant believe i type that well anyways😁 i hope you enjoy this

Taglist:@stacey-stonem @duolingofanaccount @cyberpinkx

#yandere enhypen #yandere kpop #kpop yandere #enha x reader #lee heeseung #park jongseong #park sunghoon #sim jaeyun #yang jungwon #kim sunoo #nishimura riki #yandere au #yandere nishimura riki #yandere drabble #yandere niki #yandere enha #enhypen riki #enhypen nishimura riki #enhypen scenarios

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incandescentlysomething · 1 month

Text

Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 1

House of the Dragon Season 1

Aemond x TargaryenOC

Chapter Word Count: 7390

She was his everything... For her...he would do anything.

From the moment of her birth, Aemond Targaryen swore himself to the protection of his niece Aelinor Velaryon. As the two grew up inseparable, they find themselves entangled in the Dance of Dragons, battling to stay together even as their families try to pull them apart.

A/N: Canon compliant but things change around. Currently cross-posting on A03. Will be approximately 12 chapters aligning with season 1.

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist A03

115 AC

On the second day of August, in the year 115 AC, the worst storm in a hundred years swept through King’s Landing. Ships smashed against each other in the harbor, livelihoods and people being whisked away by the tossing waves. The maesters — or the bolder ones anyway — whispered that the gods were unhappy with the Westeros, or specifically, with the ruling family. But those whispers were silenced almost immediately, for this was King’s Landing after all, the very seat of Targaryen power.

Rhaenyra Targaryen watched the storm from her window, one hand braced against each wall, her face being bathed by the pounding rain. Her maids had begged to close the shutters to conserve some of the warmth in her room, but she would not have. Her labors had been ongoing for nearly a full day, and only the sound of the wind and the cool spray of the rain could calm her as she breathed through the pain. From her spot high above the city, she could see clay tiles being ripped from their roofs, and in some places entire buildings were collapsing. It shouldn’t have been calming, but it was a welcome distraction and a stark reminder of her place in this world.

“Please, Princess,” her midwife pleased with her. “You must keep warm.”

“I am plenty warm!” Rhaenyra snapped, “and I will stay where I damn please.” As if summoned by her anger, another painful contraction rippled through her abdomen.

She could hear the midwife turn to one of her maids, beseeching the woman to find her husband. Rhaenyra let out a scoff. Since they had returned from their yearlong sojourn to Dragonstone, during which time she had entertained her uncle Daemon and his wife, Laenor had taken to spending time with one of the knights of the house. He was no uncaring nor unfeeling, but she doubted he felt any guilt about sheltering elsewhere in the city while his wife labored.

A door opened behind her. “The Queen wishes for news of the Princess.”

Rhaenyra groaned loudly, feeling the child move lower. She could hear her maid speaking in hushed tones to the intruder, assuring her of the steady progress of the birth. It didn’t feel steady. In fact, it felt rather like being torn in two.

A heavy gust of wind pelted her face, and she found she could breathe easier under the onslaught. It was a necessary distraction from the conversation happening behind her, which was in itself an echo of the same conversation that had been happening every hour on the hour for the past day. She should have expected it. Alicent had been even more of a presence when Rhaenyra had labored with Jace, insisting that her own maids be present to ‘assist the Princess’. It had been for that very reason that, following the birth of her son, Rhaenyra had withdrawn her family to Dragonstone. But there would be no escaping Alicent this time.

Something smashed against the stone walls, and Rhaenyra screamed as another contraction hit her. She was not made for this. What did it say about her, that she was bringing her child into the world on such a day?

Queen Alicent Hightower paced in her chambers, bundled in a fur as the fire roared to keep the chill of the wind out of her room. The windows in her rooms had been boarded up immediately after the King’s, and she had ordered her children be brought to her. They played on the floor now, Aegon with a small collection of wooden knights, and Aemond and Helaena looking over a book of insects.

The Hand of the King, Lord Otto Hightower, sat at her desk, putting pen to a stack of letters that had amassed in the past week. They both turned when the doors opened and Alicent’s maid, Talya, stepped inside.

“The Princess’ labors are nearly finished,” Talya announced. “The midwife expects the babe within the hour.”

Alicent picked at her fingernail. “Have it brought to me and the King as soon as possible,” she ordered, “so that we might offer our congratulations.”

Talya curtsied and left the room.

Congratulations were far from Alicent’s mind, thought she knew her husband, who was sequestered in his own rooms to work on his model, would be anxious to see his grandchild. Alicent, too, was not without sympathy for the Princess, who had returned from her months away heavily pregnant and now labored alone in her chambers. But the birth of Rhaenyra’s first son had all but confirmed rumors of adultery, and Alicent was anxious to see if the second would lend further proof to the theory.

“I wish she had summoned a maester,” she said, half to herself. “So we might trust she is in good hands.”

“Her first son arrived without issue,” Otto said, seeming bored with his daughter’s worry. “Put it from your mind.”

But how could she? Rhaenyra’s child it might be, and Jacaerys too, but Alicent could not, by the light of the Seven or her own love for her own children, see a bastard seated on the throne. But that did not mean she wished for Rhaenyra to suffer in childbirth.

“Will the dragons be alright in the storm, mother?” It took her a moment to realize who had spoken. Aemond, her third child, looked up from his book, eyes shining in concern for the creatures he loved more than anything. Aemond was…a soft child, though she knew it delighted her husband to see him so enamored with the dragons and his Targaryen heritage. Alicent struggled to imagine a place for Aemond if Rhaenyra’s children were to succeed the throne, soft and sensitive as he was.

“They have survived far more difficult storms than this,” she assured him. “They will be fine.”

Aemond gave her a relieved smile, flipping the page for Helaena.

“What do you care?” Aegon sneered. “You don’t even have one.”

“I have an egg!” Aemond protested.

“It’ll never hatch,” Aegon laughed.

Aemind stood and ran from the room, tears already brimming in his eyes. Alicent sighed, moving to go after him. Some version of this argument was a near weekly occurrence between her two sons, and she struggled to decide if it was childish rivalry or if it represented something deeper.

“Let him be, Daughter,” Otto cautioned. “Boys must work through these things on their own.”

The urge to comfort her son already fading, Alicent resumed her pacing. She needed to be ready when news of the birth came. Through the cracks in her boarded up window, she could see rolling gray clouds in the distance.

Prince Aemond had managed to stop crying by the time he emerged from the tunnels and into the Princess’ Tower. He knew there were many passageways in the castle, but he was only aware of the ones that led from his room, as they afforded him the opportunity to seek out his freedom, and to hide his tears. He was embarrassed to admit, event at the tender age of five, how often he wept behind these cold stone walls.

It wasn’t fair how Aegon treated him, and it wasn’t fair that he had a dragon. Aegon might love Sunfyre, but he didn’t love dragons the way that Aemond did. He didn’t pour over stories of Old Valyria, trying to learn things that seemed impossible for a boy of his age. He deserved a dragon. He was ready for it.

Even Helaena, who did not have a dragon, had her love of science and bugs and all crawling things. It wasn’t proper, or terribly interesting to Aemond, but at least she had something. The only thing he had ever really loved or wanted, continued to be out of his reach.

He hadn’t meant to come to the Princess’ Tower, but it seemed to be the one place in the Red Keep with any type of activity. His mother usually forbade the children from playing here, wanting to keep them far away from his elder half-sister for some reason he didn’t quite understand. And if he wasn’t going to be allowed to go outside and see the dragons, which his mother had strictly forbidden, then he must find entertainment elsewhere.

Two maids scurried past his hiding place. “The babe is here, but the Princess has asked us to delay so that she might compose herself.”

This interested Aemond. He knew that his mother had ordered the babe to be brought to her immediately, though he didn’t understand why. Surely a babe was still a babe an hour after its birth as much as a few minutes? But the babe was here, and he was here, which meant he might get a chance to see his new niece or nephew before his mother and Aegon did.

His mind made up, he ducked out from behind the tapestry and marched up the stairs to his half-sister’s chambers, knocking sharply on the door. The chatter inside fell to silence, and he listened as a pair of footsteps moved toward the door.

A maid answered. “Prince Aemond?” She curtsied through her confusion. “Whatever are you doing here?”

“I wish to see the babe,” he declared, trying not to look like a little boy who had been crying not too long ago.

“My Prince, this is a birthing chamber, and it is not—”

“He may enter,” his half-sister’s voice carried, and it was all the invitation he needed to push around the maid (rather rudely, as his septa would tell him) and into the room.

Rhaenyra’s chambers were confusing to him. The window was wide open, and the sounds of the storm and a wicket chill swept into the room. Someone had stacked blankets at the base of the window to soak up all the rain coming through. Despite this, the fire was roaring in its hearth, nearly suffocating in its heat. Two women he had never seen before were rolling blankets stained with crimson into a bundle, while another was dumping red-tinged water from a metal tub out of the window. He blinked in confusion. That was more blood than he had ever seen in his life, even more than when Aegon had broken his nose with a practice sword.

His half-sister was reclined on her bed, propped up by pillows, a bundle of blankets in her arms.

“Are you injured, sister?” He asked, creeping forward and trying not to think of the blood. He might not be overly close with his half-sister, as she was much older and not liked by his mother, but he did not like to see anyone hurt.

“No more than is expected, Aemond,” she said, not exactly warmly, but with a fresh dose of kindness that made his press a bit closer. He thought she looked exhausted, and her hair hung in sweaty mats about his face. Perhaps it was very difficult to have a baby, if it made such a mess. “Would you like to meet your niece?”

“A niece?” he moved forward, drawn by his curiosity. “It’s not a boy then.” A shame, for he would rather have liked a new playmate.

“No,” Rhaenyra laughed. “But rather a beautiful little girl. And you may be the first to meet her.”

Aemond wrinkled his nose. “Is she like Helaena? I like her well enough, but she talks often of bugs.”

She laughed again, a bit more brightly. “She is too little to have interests yet, Aemond. She does not even have a name.”

A person with no name? Somehow, that was utterly fascinating to Aemond, and he boldly leaned over the bed, trying to peek at the bundle in Rhaenyra’s arms. He could not imagine a world in which he was not Aemond, and this little baby did not even have a name of her own.

“Here she is,” Rhaenyra smiled down at the bundle, before lifting it to where Aemond could see.

His mouth dropped open as he beheld the tiny babe. He had expected an ugly, messy thing, and while she might be a bit wrinkly, and slightly blue, she was absolutely perfect. Small enough that he could have easily lifted her, with slick silver hair plastered to her head, and a tiny white hand curled into a little fist. He was reminded of depictions of the Mother in the Sept, who was often shown cradling a small, impossibly beautiful baby.

“She’s pretty,” he said finally, though even he knew the word did not nearly suffice. “She doesn’t look like Jace.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Rhaenyra sounded a bit sad. “But I love her nonetheless.”

The baby cooed, and her tiny eyes blinked open, revealing a stunning shade of lavender more beautiful than anything Aemond had ever seen. She shuddered and stretched, her tiny, bird-like limbs shaking with the effort. Instantly, Aemond was flooded with worry for this little creature. How frightening it must be, to come into the world and meet so many strangers, all while a dreadful storm wailed outside. He wanted to keep her far from the world, to demand that his half-sister bar the windows and keep her locked away, warm and safe.

But that wouldn’t be fair to the babe. Aemond knew all too well what it felt like to be suffocated within stone walls, and this little one deserved to see everything. When she was bigger, he could take her to the dragon pit, where she might watch the dragons train with him. Perhaps she would enjoy hearing stories of Old Valyria, and he worried that he may not know them well enough to do them justice. But those thoughts were overcrowded by fear. They were plans for tomorrow, when this little bird did not, to him, look strong enough to last the day.

“She’s too little,” he protested. “Will she be alright?”

“She’ll be alright,” Rhaenyra promised. “But she might need to be protected and helped while she is still small. Could you…help me do that, Aemond?”

Aemond studied the babe for a long moment. “Mother said it is a bad omen for her to be born during a storm.”

Rhaenyra frowned. The babe kicked her legs, and Aemond boldly reached forward to tuck the blanket back around her.

“But I don’t think she’s right,” he admitted. “She’s like a little sunbeam on a cloudy day.”

Perhaps the little boy did not mean to be so poetic, but his words filled Rhaenyra’s heart with a little bit of hope. It was true that the babe did not look like Jace, for they did not share a father, but she was the picture of a Targaryen beauty. No one could deny that she was Rhaenyra’s, or that she was perfect. She was a worthy reward for such a difficult labor. Not even Aemond, it seemed.

“You know Aemond,” she began cautiously. “She does not yet have a name. Might you have a suggestion?”

“Me?” He was shocked. “What about Ser Laenor?”

“He isn’t here,” Rhaenyra’s voice was harsh. “Come, we mustn’t let this little one linger without a name of her own for much longer.”

That did seem to be a terrible injustice, in Aemond’s opinion. He struggled to think of a name as perfect as the little creature in front of him. It would have to be a Valyrian name, he decided, for she deserved one, and it would have to be beautiful and unique, only to her. He was struck by the realization that this was the most important thing he had ever done.

“What about Aelinor?” He suggested shyly.

Rhaenyra smiled, looking down on her baby. “I think that is perfect. Will you help my little Aelinor, Aemond? When the world is harsh and cruel, might she have you to lean on?”

Aemond could not imagine the world ever being cruel to little Aelinor — his Aelinor, he decided — but he made the promise anyway.

“I swear,” he said earnestly, vowing not only to himself, not to his half-sister, but to the precious thing in her arms. He lifted his hand and gently stroked one finger along her tiny arm, the skin impossibly soft and delicate beneath his touch. “I’ll become the strongest dragon rider in the world, so that I can protect you. I swear it.”

And for those few minutes, before news reached the Queen, Rhaenyra felt that the world might not have been as harsh as she knew it to be. Her daughter was healthy and beautiful, and already she was winning hearts. Little Aelinor was exactly what Aemond had said, a spot of sun on a dark day, and she was loved.

No one could ever have imagined that in the years and wars to come, it was tiny Aelinor, and her sworn protector, who would shape the future of House Targaryen.

119 AC

At the age of four, Princess Aelinor Velaryon ruled over the Red Keep like a little queen. Though not one for barking orders — she was both too meek and too shy for that — she found the castle filled with those resolved to fulfill her every whim. Never in her short life had she known a moment’s hardship, for such inconveniences were kept fiercely away by those who loved her.

Her mother, the Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, doted on her only daughter, even as she brought a second son into the world. Her daughter was the perfect image of her mother, in looks if not in temperament, and Rhaenyra was determined to keep her under her wing for as long as possible. The motives could not be entirely unselfish, for Aelinor alone of Rhaenyra’s children bore the look of a true Targaryen, and contributed heavily to the preservation of Rhaenyra’s reputation.

The Lord Laenor Velaryen, the girl’s father, found himself rather at odds with what to do with the girl. Though she did not resemble him in the slightest, he found her sweet, and reminded him of a calmer, meeker Laena. The reminder of his sister was enough to generate some fondness in his heart for the child, if it could not be called a true fatherly love. He did not spend much time with the girl (or indeed any of his children), but he made sure to always bring the child a bauble from his travels, and offer her a story should she ask.

King Viserys, her grandfather, doted on the child, whom he found to be the perfect image of his late wife, Aemma, and even Her Majesty the Queen could not find it in herself to hate the child. Not when little Aelinor so often looked up to Queen Alicent and declared her ‘beautiful like a faerie’.

The only true hardship in Princess Aelinor’s life came from her brothers, the Princes Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon. Luc was young, and so it was most often Jace who took to bullying the young girl. It was difficult to say why, and perhaps that was why their mother did so little to stop it. It might simply have been the way of things with siblings, for Rhaenyra had none of her own. But many in the curt whispered that the boys had far darker motivations for taunting and teasing the little girl, even if the children themselves were unaware.

When Jacaerys pushed Aelinor from her chair so that he might sit next to the King, the court whispered ‘it is because she has the look of a Targaryen, and the boy does not’. And when Luc pulled her hair, they suggested that his jealously moved him to hurt the girl.

Aelinor loved her brothers though, and were she a little stronger or a little bigger, she would have teased them right back. She knew her brothers would never hurt her, not truly, and so she did not let herself be too bothered by their harassment.

Aelinor remained a happy child, through and through, in large part due to her best friend, for there was no one in the court, nor in her family, as devoted to her happiness as her beloved Aemond. On any given day, one could expect to see the young prince following behind the little princess like an ever-faithful shadow, quick to pick her up should she fall, to wipe away her tears, and fight her battles for her. For all the rumors of rifts between the factions of House Targaryen, their loyalty to each other seemed to bridge the gap of familial animosity.

“Aemond,” Aelinor said eagerly. “Can you tell me what you see?”

They were hiding in the rafters, in a space normally reserved for servants lighting chandeliers, spying on the feast and dancing taking place in the great hall below. It was Prince Aegon’s eleventh name day, and the dancing was expected to last right into the night. Aemond had been forced to attend for the first few hours, but had managed to sneak away and find Aelinor, who had been too young to be invited. Now they were hidden behind a wall on the upper level, Aemond tall enough to peer over and Aelinor trying to stand on her toes.

Aemond considered his answer. “What would you like to hear about? The dancing or the food?”

“The dancing!” She exclaimed. “Is it like in the stories?”

He knew which stories she was referring to. Aemond spent much of his time regaling Aelinor with the stories of Old Valyria, and while she loved tales of dragons and spells as much as he did (though he did tend to leave out some of the gorier details of blood magic), it was the great romances that really captured her young mind.

“The ladies are all spinning around, and their dresses are very fine,” he said. “And I can see that all of the lords are very much in love with them.”

Truthfully, he could only really see his mother, who danced with her uncle in the middle of the nearly-empty dancefloor. The hired musicians now played over the sound of drunken revelries, most of the guests draped over taples with tankards of ale in their hands. All of the other children had left by now, including Aegon, who had arrogantly boasted that he would stay up all night for his party. He also couldn’t see Princess Rhaenyra But Aelinor didn’t need to know any of that.

“I wish I could be down there,” the girl sighed, spinning around so that the edges of her bedrobe twirled outward. “I could meet a handsome prince.”

Aemond turned from watching the party, smiling down at her as she spun about. “Am I not handsome enough for you, Lina?”

Aelinor stopped then, looking very serious. “You’re the most handsome, even more handsome than your brothers or mine, or any of the princes in the stories.”

Aemond grinned. That was what he loved best about Aelinor. Even at the age of four, he knew without a doubt that she meant everything she said with every fibre of her being. As far as he knew, she had never even told a lie to anyone. She just loved and loved with her entire heart, and he felt grateful that she shared even a small piece of it with him.

“Come then, if you wish it, we shall dance,” he held out a hand, leading her through a clumsy imitation of one of the dances he had seen earlier. Aelinor held her skirt up with one hand and he whirled her around, careful not to let her trip over her dress.

“What’s your favorite part of the stories, Aemond?” She asked him, swaying from side to side.

He answered honestly. “I like the dragons. I like hearing about the bond between dragons and their riders, and how they became heroes and legends.” He was filled with a great sadness then, for her did not have a dragon of his own. Aelinor did, her little egg had hatched shortly after her birth, though she was too young to have done more than pet the hatchling.

“You’ll be the best dragon rider ever,” Aelinor promised. “I just know it.”

He didn’t doubt that she believed it.

“Do you want to know my favorite part, Aemond?” She asked, giggling as he swayed her from side to side.

“Of course, Lina.”

She sighed dramatically. “I like the happy endings, when the heroes bring their princesses a troven.”

“It’s a token, Lina,” he smiled. “And yes, I know you love the happy endings.” He was prone to adding happy endings to all his stories, knowing how much she loved them.

“Come now, it is time to get you to bed.” It was well past her bedtime, and Aelinor did not protest as he took her hand and returned her to her family.

Early the next morning, Alicent walked into her sitting room to find Aemond digging through one of her jewelry boxes.

“Aemond, whatever are you doing?” She glanced briefly at the breakfast table, where Aegon was slathering a fruit spread on a piece of bread, but chose to take nothing for herself.

Aemond didn’t reply, setting a gold chain to the side and continuing to dig. “Just looking for something.”

“Hm,” Alicent hummed. “Did you have fun with Aelinor last night?”

“Yes, we watched some of the dancing.”

His brother laughed, but Aemond chose to ignore it. He now had a selection of jewels set next to him on the table, and was continuing his hunt.

“Why are you laughing, Aegon?” Alicent asked.

Aegon snorted. “I just think it’s funny that Aemond hangs out with babies rather than acting like a man.”

This was rather funny, especially coming from a boy as flippant and juvenile as Aegon, but Alicent couldn’t deny that the thought had occured to her as well. Aemond was nearly nine, and his closest companion was a little girl of four. Aemond was already an odd child, and it didn’t bode well for him to be so distanced from his peers.

“Aelinor isn’t a baby, she’s special,” Aemond declared, spinning to face his mother, holding his palm outstretched. “Mother, may I have this.”

Balanced on his palm was a large sapphire, too large for him to close his fist around. It was roughly cut, and had been given to the Queen for her to choose its cut and setting herself, but she had never gotten around to it, preferring emerald tones over sapphire.

“For what?” She asked.

A red flush stained Aemond’s cheeks, and Alicent did not even need to hear his reply. “Are you sure, Aemond? That is a very large gem, and she’s very little.”

Aemond held it tightly in his fingers. “Please. She loves treasure.”

That was a gross underestimation of Aemond’s motivations. Yes, Aelinor did love treasure as much as any little princess, but the truth was, her sleepy mumblings about heroes and tokens had rattled around his brain all night. She had called him a handsome prince, and he felt he needed to do something to earn it.

“Please?” He repeated.

Alicent considered her next words carefully. On one hand, she did not want the court to hear of her passing a gift of such value to the Princess Rhaenyra’s family. Or rather, she did not want her father to hear of it. But she had no real attachment to the stone, having already forgotten which visiting lord or lady had gifted it to her, and it might serve to address what she saw as the larger concern.

“Very well,” Aemond’s face erupted in glee, “but you must make me a promise.”

“Anything!” He exclaimed.

“From now on, you will join Aegon for his morning lessons. That means with the maesters some days, and in the training yard on others.”

“What?”

“Why?” Aegon demanded.

Alicent held up a hand to silence both of her sons. “You’re not as little as you were, Aemond. This is important.”

“But Aelinor —”

“Aelinor must also study with her Septas,” Alicent said. “Do I have your agreement?”

Aemond looked a bit dejected, but nodded slowly. “I promise.”

“Well, I don’t even want him to train with me!”

The next day Aelinor had to hunt for Aemond throughout the castle. He wasn’t waiting outside her door when she awoke, nor was he in the library, picking out a new story for her. It took her nearly an hour to find him in the most unlikely of places.

He was testing out the different practice swords, trying to see which felt the least foreign in his hand, when Aelinor emerged on the walkway above the training yard. Ser Harwin Strong lifted her easily, carrying her down the steps and setting her down on a flat stone. His efforts were futile, for she immediately leapt off and splashed through the mud to reach Aemond.

“Are you going to learn to fight, Aemond?” She asked, excited. “Can I learn too?

The thought was ridiculous, but Aemond didn’t laugh. “When you are bigger, Lina, I promise.” He couldn’t bear the thought of her being injured, so this was one of the few instances in which he had no choice but to refuse her.

“Alright,” she sighed. “Can I stay and watch?”

Aemond was suddenly embarrassed at the thought of her watching him train. He would not be very good, and he couldn’t bear for Aelinor to think any less of him. The sapphire hung heavy in his pocket, and he was thankful for the distraction.

“Not today, Lina. But I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?” She bounced on her toes. The hem of her lilac dress was already stained with mud, but her silver hair was tied back neatly back with a ribbon. Her whole frame shook as she bounced in anticipation. “What is it?”

Aemond pulled the sapphire out of his pocket, unwrapping the silk handkerchief he had used to cover it. “This is for you. Just like from the stories.”

Aelinor’s gasp was almost comical as she took in the stone. “For me?”

“Yes,” Aemond said, letting her take it in her small hands. She had to grip it with both hands to hold it, the gem ridiculously large for her. “But you must be very careful with it, alright?”

Aelinor stared at it for a moment longer. In the morning light the gem reflected a ripple of cerulean blue across her palms, and she felt she could have wasted away the day studying it. Suddenly she leapt forward to wrap Aemond in a hug. “Thank you, thank you!” She cried. “It is the best thing in the world.”

Aemond squeezed her back. “I am glad you like it. “Now go, we both have lessons.”

Aelinor gave him one last squeeze, before turning to stomp back to her waiting Kingsguard. Aemond just smiled, pleased with himself.

That evening, Aelinor sat in front of the hearth in her mother’s chambers, half-listening as her brothers recounted their day, but mostly studying the sapphire in her hands. Her mother had been astonished to see the magnitude of the gift she had received, but she had not taken it away.

“Boys, stay here with Aelinor. I have something to discuss with your father.” Rhaenyra disappeared into the next room.

Jace squatted down next to his sister, pointing at the stone. “What’s that?”

“It’s my token!” Aelinor exclaimed.

“It’s pretty,” Luc was on her other side.

“I know!” Aelinor beamed. “Aemond gave it to me. It’s just like the treasures from the stories and I—”

Jace interrupted her. “Aemond? You let him give you a gift?” Unlike his younger siblings, Jace wasn’t entirely unaware of the whispers that followed him at court. And he was more than aware that while he dealt with sideways glances and whispers, he knew that Aelinor was largely immune to those comments. That spark of jealousy colored his relationship with his sister, sometimes overclouding his love for her with envy.

Aelinor was confused by his question. Why shouldn’t Aemond give her a gift? He was her Aemond after all. But Jace’s question made her worry. Perhaps she needed to give him a gift in return. But what did she have that was as wonderful as this?

“Aemond isn’t our friend, Aelinor,” Jace cautioned. “You can’t trust him.”

“Aemond is my friend,” Aelinor countered, her faith in him steadfast. “He just doesn’t like you.”

All of a sudden, Luc snatched the gem out of her hand, holding it away from her reach. “It’s so blue!”

“Let me see it, Luc,” Jace took it, holding it near the fire to see it better.

“Give it back!” Aelinor sprung to her feet. “It isn’t yours! It’s mine!”

“Why should you get a gift like this, and from Aemond of all people?” Jace, who thought himself much older and wiser, tried to reason with his sister. “You cannot keep it.”

“I can! He gave it to me!” Aelinor jumped to reach it, nearly tripping over her skirts.

“I’m sorry, sister. But this is for the best. “And Jace, with the type of carelessness that only a boy can muster, tossed the sapphire into the fire.

Aelinor wailed. “You stupid, stupid boy! Aemond gave that to me!” She beat at his side with her little fists.

Jace pushed her off, sending her stumbling to the floor. “It’s just a trinket, Aelinor. We can find you another one. A better one.”

But Aelinor already knew in her heart that there would never be a better gift than the one Aemond had given her. She pushed onto her knees and crawled closer to the fire, sniffling as she watched the flames lick at the blue gem. Already black was creeping up the edges, marring its beautiful surface. Aemond had given her that gift because he loved, she knew it. And she wasn’t going to let her brother’s jealousy take it away.

New determination flowing through her veins, Aelinor reached forward into the fire, and grasped the gem firmly in her hand.

Her screams echoed through the hall of the keep.

Aemond was reading by candlelight, just beginning to nod off when a pounding began at his door. A thousand things occurred to him as he scrambled from his bed. It could be his mother, angry that he was still awake, or it could be something more serious, such as a fire or an attack of some kind.

He had scarcely set his feet on the floor when the door burst open, and he was surprised to see not only his mother there, looking very perturbed in her nightgown and robe, but also Ser Harwin Strong, the Kingsguard to the Princess Rhaenyra.

“Aemond,” his mother sighed. “I’m sorry, but there was no helping it.”

“No helping what, mother?” Aemond was concerned. Was that sweat on Ser Harwin’s brow? “Is there a fire?”

“No, child. There has been an…unfortunate accident.”

“What do you—”

Ser Harwin interrupted. “The Princess Aelinor has been grievously injured, and she calls for you. Her mother hoped you might calm her, so that she might let the maesters—”

Aemond was already pushing past them, running down the stairs as fast as his bare feet could carry him. Aelinor, injured? He could not imagine what might have happened, his thoughts already filled with the most horrible images. He should have been there, should have protected her. And where were her parents, her brothers, her guards? What were they doing that allowed her to be hurt?

He could hear Ser Harwin rushing behind him, but he did not stop to look. He just ran down the familiar corridors and began climbing the steps to the chambers the Princess Rhaenyra occupied with her family. No sooner had his foot landed on the bottom step of the tower that the most horrible wailing reached his ears.

“Aelinor!” She shouted, rushing up the steps and bursting into the room. He shoved past a crowd of maesters and Aelinor’s own parents and brothers, ignoring the rudeness of his arrival. Rhaenyra looked close to tears, her sons just as distraught, but Aemond only had eyes for Aelinor.

She sat on a divan, wilted against one side, her hand cradled in her lap. She was still wearing her beautiful, mud-covered dress from that morning, though the dirt had now dried into dust that flaked onto the velvet furniture. She was sobbing: great, heaving sobs that shook her entire body with the effort, letting out alternatively loud wails or soft moans of pain.

“Lina!” he exclaimed, dropping to his knees next to her. “What’s happened?”

She wailed louder, and he saw that she was gripping something in her little hand. The skin that he could see, mainly the sides and back of her hand, was a frightening shade of bright red, as though she’d left it out in the sun for too long.

“She wasn’t supposed to go after it,” Jace said. “She just reached right in!”

“What did she reach for, Jace?” Rhaenyra demanded. “You were supposed to watch her!”

Aemond ignored them, carefully lifting a hand to brush away the flood of tears. A maester knelt on her other side. “Young Prince, we need to let us see her hand. We fear she had been grievously burned.”

Burned? His Aelinor?

He spun his gaze around, zeroing on Jace. Little Luc clung to his brother’s shirt, tears running down his face. The nerve of him to cry, when his sister was suffering so.

“What have you done?” He demanded. “Why did you hurt her?”

“She was the one stupid enough to reach into a fireplace for a dumb jewel!” Jace spat back.

“Jewel? What jewel?” Ser Laenor asked, and his wife began to explain.

Aemond felt a feeling of dread come over him as he realized what Aelinor was holding so tightly in her hand. What she had hurt herself for. He leaned close, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Lina. Does it hurt terribly?”

She gave a pathetic nod, and he resisted the urge to cry. This was his fault, after all. He had given her the sapphire, and she had scarred herself just to save it from the fire.

“Lina,” he whispered. “Please, you must let them help.”

Her lip quivered. “Make it stop hurting, Aemond.”

He hated himself for being unable to grant her wish. It made him want to turn around and punch Jace, and even little Luc, for putting her through this. It was their teasing and tormenting of her that had led to this, he was sure of it.

“Open your hand, Lina,” he coaxed. “And once they’ve taken care of you, I’ll tell you a new story, alright?”

That seemed motivation enough, and he moved to sit beside her, taking her uninjured hand in his as the maesters worked quickly to uncurl her burned fingers. Aelinor whimpered as the sapphire dropped to the floor, and Aemond felt like vomiting when he saw the mess left behind. A melted mass of burned skin and liquid flesh, her fingers curling in as if to protect the wound from the air. As soon as it was exposed, Aelinor began to cry anew, and Aemond drew her face into his shoulders.

“It will be alright, Lina,” he promised, even though he didn’t think it would be. “I’ll take care of you.”

Aelinor didn’t respond. She just clung to Aemond’s side and sobbed as they applied a salve and a bandage to her ruined hand. Both her mother and father came forward to try and comfort her, but any attempt to pry her away from Aemond only led to more tears.

Aelinor whispered something, and Aemond leaned down to hear it.

“Am I going to be ugly now, Aemond?” She said quietly.

“Never,” he swore. “You are as beautiful as ever, and no one could ever do anything to change that.” That, at least, he was sure of.

She seemed to take a little comfort in that, and Aemond worked with the maesters to convince her to drink some milk of the poppy. She fell asleep, slumped against Aemond’s side, her hand an unidentifiable mass of bandages.

“Thank you, Prince Aemond,” Ser Laenor said, gently placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I will take her to bed now.”

Aemond wanted to protest, but while he might be strong enough to carry Aelinor playful around the castle, he could not move her without jostling her. Instead, he carefully passed her to her father, and stood from the sofa as she was carried away. He wanted to insist that someone stay with her through the night, but movement at the side of the room drew his attention away.

Rhaenyra had collapsed into a chair at the table, Jace and Luc sitting beside her. In Luc’s hand was the blackened sapphire they had pried from Aelinor’s grasp.

“You…you bastards!” Aemond shouted, walking up and snatching the jewel from him. “I gave this to Aelinor, not to you!”

“Boys, there is no need for—” Rhaenyra started.

“Who are you to give our sister gifts? You’re just trying to…trying to..” Jace struggled for words. “To turn her against us!”

“I’m not! I—” Aemond caught himself before he said I love her. “It doesn’t matter. You stole from her, and you hurt her, and I won’t ever forgive you for it.”

“Enough!” Rhaenyra stood. “Jace, take Luc and go to your room. I’ll be in to speak with you in a minute.”

Aemond watched as they walked away, scowling all the while. Only once the door had closed behind them did Rhaenyra turn to him.

“Thank you, Aemond,” she said sincerely. “I did not say it earlier, but you were a great comfort to Aelinor, and a great help to us all tonight.”

He did not think that his mother would enjoy hearing that he had been a ‘great help’ to his half-sister, nor was he particularly endeared to her at the moment. It was on her watch that Lina had been injured, after all. “I did it for Lina.” And not for you.

“I know you did, but I am grateful all the same.” Rhaenyra sighed. “She will be very unwell in the coming days. Can I trust that you will be there to help?”

It was a silly question. When, in all the days since Aelinor had been born, had Aemond not been there? Short of prying him from her side and locking him up, there would be nothing anyone could do to keep him away from his little princess.

Aemond looked down at the jewel in his palm, rubbing some of the soot away with his finger. “Can she have her jewel back? I picked it just for her. I didn’t mean for her to be hurt.” It wasn’t quite an admission of guilt, and indeed, no one could accuse him of being at fault save himself, but Rhaenyra could see that it already weighed heavy on the boy.

Rhaenyra held out her hand, and he obediently placed the sapphire in her palm. “Not only may she keep it, but I shall have it placed in a setting, so that she might carry it easier.”

That sounded perfectly agreeable to Aemond, and he nodded. “Very well. Then I shall look after Aelinor.” He did not say because you cannot, but the thought was in his mind. He had trusted Aelinor to the care of her mother and brothers, and now she was hurt. It would never have happened on his watch. He wouldn’t have allowed it.

“May I ask one more favor of you, Ameond?”

He gave a slight nod.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, as if debating whether or not to speak. “Please don’t call my boys bastards. It cuts deeper than you know.”

Aemond did not agree, or disagree, he simply cast one last longing glance at Aelinor’s door,and then left the room, determined to return in the morning with an armful of sweets for his princess.

Years later, Rhaenyra would wonder if that was the first day the lines were drawn between their families. When she inadvertently handed Aemond Targaryen the words with which to wound her own children. But at the time, she knew only that he cared deeply for her daughter, and she hoped and prayed that it would be enough to preserve this tender peace.

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