18+

🧸🛁🤎

[mikaelvr]

repopulation .ᐟ.ᐟ aang x f!reader

warnings: 18+ nsfw, smut, alcohol, rough sex, breeding kink, jealousy, desk sex, praise, fingering, nipple play, improper use of avatar state, creampie.

summary: you get jealous over a joke toph makes about katara and aang bringing back the air nation, so he fucks your worries right off your head. wc: 4.3k

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It was all because of a stupid joke Toph made at dinner; one that everyone took lightly but you.

“So since Aang’s still alive..” she started with a dirty snicker at the man’s absence, quite tipsy, playfully nudging Katara’s side. “That means the Airbenders could be brought back. Think you and him could repopulate the Air nation, Sugar Queen? Have little Airbender babies filling up the temples?”

“What the hell— No!” Katara shoves her off, flustered and embarrassed, groaning in defeat at the others’ laughs.

Zuko offers her a timid smile, his words a little slurred from the drinking. “But it’s true, no? That would be a very heroic act, Katara.”

“Drop it, you guysss..” she sighs, downing one more shot, Toph’s noisy cackling mingling with Sokka’s until they’re interrupted by their synchronized hiccuping, which only causes them to laugh even louder.

Your grip tightens around your glass. You were glad nobody was looking at you; you wouldn’t know how to justify the glare you were throwing their way.

Images of Aang and Katara naked and tangled under the sheets suddenly plagued your mind, and you couldn’t tell if they were the cause of your headache or if that was the work of your sixth drink.

You huff, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking the thoughts off. This was ridiculous.

You push yourself up from the floor, and that piques Katara’s attention. She looks up at you, a little worried. “Leaving already? Is everything okay, sweetie?”

A twinge of guilt tugs at your heartstrings at the genuine worry in her voice. You give her a small nod, and your best attempt at a smile, “Just had too much to drink, don’t worry. I’ll go upstairs, to check on Aang.”

“Gooood,” Toph drawls through a fit of giggles, raising her hand to give you a thumbs up while Sokka refills her mug. “Tell him that Katara’s gonna bring back the Air nation while you’re at it. Gonna give him loooots of babies. Pregnant Katara, pregnant with little Airbenders. Buuunch of ‘em.”

Your lips purse tightly, and as much as you wanted to, you refrain from throwing your glass at her face. “.. Alright. Goodbye.”

You walk off, Katara’s exasperated denials and Toph’s increasingly dirty jokes fading into a dull noise as you storm up the stairs.

You don’t even know why this was upsetting you so badly. Sure, you had a little crush on Aang but.. it’s not like he was yours. He probably would never be.

You weren’t even a bender; so why in the world would he ever pick you over Katara?

Sweet, pretty, skilled Katara. Unbearably perfect Katara.

Everyone in the group pictured them together for good reason; she was the perfect match for him. And you did love them both a lot as your dear friends.. so why were you this worked up?

Tears prick at your eyes when you stand in front of Aang’s door. You quickly wipe them off with the back of your hand, bewildered at the fact that you were actually crying over this.

You sigh. You shouldn’t have had so much to drink, this was all the alcohol.

After a few more minutes of mulling over your words and composing yourself, you knock on the door softly. Three knocks.

“Come in!” His voice, breezy like always but a little weighed down by the exhaustion of night work, shoots right through your chest like an arrow. You suck in a sharp breath, then slowly slide the door open.

“Ohh, thank Spirits you’re here.” He practically whines as he tips his head back against his chair, limp as a ragdoll. “Dumb Avatar work won’t end, I swear I thought I was about to die from boredom. You’re my savior.”

You force a small smile and walk over to his desk, setting down your glass with a bit of sake left, that he wastes no time in stealing and chugging down in a second.

He exhales with a wide grin, very pleased, melting back against his chair. “Really, really my savior.”

You stare at him silently. Your gaze lingers on the pretty arch of his eyebrows, the light blush already tinting his cheeks because he had the liquor tolerance of a two year old, the adorable twinkle in those tired, happy doe eyes..

You look further down, noting the squeeze of his too-big back against the borrowed chair, and the way his legs twisted uncomfortably to fit under the somehow small-for-him desk.

Downsides of a bigger build, huh. Your mouth dries up a little.

It physically hurt that you couldn’t have him.

His puzzled, sad frown snaps you out of your haze. “You’re not even listening to me.. am I boring you?”

“Oh, no, no, not at all. I’m sorry.” You wave your hands wildly, embarrassed and grateful that he seemingly didn’t pick up on your inappropriate leering. “I just.. just..”

The more you look into his eyes, the heavier your heart feels.

Your friends’ words keep ringing in the back of your head, the filthy images of him and Katara together in different positions refusing to leave your tipsy mind.

Spirits, you felt like you could cry again. Damn you, inhibition-lowering alcohol. And damn you, Toph.

Once again, you’re pulled out of your thoughts by him. His large hand wraps around yours, his features scrunched in worry at the sight of your teary eyes. “Are you okay, sweetheart? Tell me what’s wrong.”

Now was not the time for his stupid nicknames. This was so unfair to your poor heart.

“I am. It’s just.. this dumb thing that happened earlier.” You look down at your hand in his, your eyes welling up much to your embarrassment and dismay.

His fingers gently curl around yours, urging you to look at him. “What dumb thing? Please tell me.”

‘No.’ You wanted to say. ‘It concerns you, so how could I tell you?’ You tell yourself.

Staying silent or lying was the smart idea.

..

Maybe you would’ve been smarter sober.

With the alcohol in your system, and those beautiful eyes boring into yours so intimately in the dark of the night, the moonlight reflecting in his pupils.. you don’t feel the words spill out of your lips until you hear them yourself.

“It’s nothing. Just a joke Toph made,” with each syllable that left your mouth, your brain desperately tried to hit the brakes and shut you up, regret already pooling in your gut as you helplessly watched yourself commit the stupidest mistake of your life. “About.. you and Katara. Talked about you two.. uhm.. repopulating the Air nation, or whatever. Like.. Airbenders aren’t totally extinct since you.. you’re still here. You could, y’know, make more—”

“I-I get the gist,” he interjects, blushing while his grip tightens around your hand. He sighs lowly and shakes the thought off. “Of course it’s Toph. But.. I’m still lost.”

He tilts his head, blinking up at you so sweetly you almost melt. “I think I get the joke. Dirty, sure. But I’m not sure why it’s sad?”

“Sad?” You answer back, just as puzzled. “It’s not sad, though?”

He nods, both of you like lost puppies. “I know. So why is it making you cry?”

Fuck.

Your addled brain racks itself to come up with a reason fast enough, but oh, who were you kidding?

“It’s just..” you look down at the empty glass, wishing it was full so you could down it and hopefully choke on it. “..I don’t know.”

Could you have picked a worse answer? Hard to tell.

A long silence settles between you two, and you can feel his heavy, curious gaze on you without even needing to look at him. You regret doing so, because with the way his eyes suspiciously narrow, his oblivious mind exhausting the possible explanations for your state, you can see him work closer up to the conclusion.

“Welp,” you force an awkward chuckle, patting his hand before sliding yours off his grasp and taking a few steps back, hoping to make it out of here before he figures it out. “I’m sorry to bother you, Aang. It’s nothing really, I think it’s just the drinks getting to me. You know how they always make me soo emotional. Anyway, I just wanted to check up on you, so I’ll get going now.”

You turn around and pick up your pace, but before your fingers find the knob, a gust of wind pushes the door just right out of your reach.

“Wait.” His voice sends a shiver up your spine, cold sweat suddenly rolling off your temples. “Are you..?”

He trails off again, and your limbs grow shakier. This was such a dumb idea, why did you even have to go up to his office? Dumb, dumb, dumb.

You take a deep breath and take one more step to the door, but this time it’s slammed shut with a sharper gust.

“Were you..” You can hear the scraping of his chair as he stands up, your heart sinking down to your ass. “.. Jealous?”

And, unfortunately, there it was.

Even then, knowing Aang, you could’ve still flipped it around. Laughed and played it off. Told him he was wrong. He would’ve believed you.

But, unable to even look up from the door knob, the dumbest answer rolls out of your heavy tongue, a tipsy lightheadedness washing over you for a second. “.. Yes.”

At this point, you didn’t even care anymore. It couldn’t possibly get any worse than this. Maybe now he could laugh at how weird you were being and send you off, finally putting off the burning flames in your chest.

You wait for the longest time, neither of you moving, and right when you expect him to burst out giggling, a firm command escapes his lips instead. “Turn around.”

You blink, dazed.

You slowly turn around, and your breath hitches at the sight before you. Aang standing with his palms flat against the desk, his chest silently heaving, wisps of steam slipping out of his parted lips, more redness across his cheeks, broad and bulky and scary with his no longer sparkling eyes.

There was only what you could describe as heat in them. Not from anger, no, but something awfully akin to lust that had a foreign heat pooling deep in your lower tummy.

Was the alcohol making you see things? Was this just wishful thinking?

“Come here,” he orders again, but it’s shaky this time. Your feet comply before you can process it, and you feel your guts twisting with dread and hopeful anticipation.

Spirits, did you make him uncomfortable? You’d never seen him like this before.

When you finally stand before him, only the desk separating you, your fingers curl around your skirt in guilt. “Aang, I’m so sorry. You already have enough on your plate, I shouldn’t have said anything— Mmf!!”

You’re cut off with a rough kiss, sudden and heated from the get-go, big hands cupping your cheeks as his lips smush against yours in a sloppy mess. You want to make sense of it, but it’s hard to care when your brain’s this fuzzy and you’re living out one of your nightly fantasies.

Neither of you want to stop, breathlessly lapping at each other’s warm tongues and moaning at the unfamiliar feel, swapping sweet sake-flavored saliva.

He reluctantly breaks it with a wet pop, gazing down at you so desperately it had you squeezing your thighs together.

“Don’t move.” Aang whispers, trailing around the table to stand behind you, the order nailing your feet down to the floor. A soft gasp slips from your kiss-bitten lips when his hands tentatively rest on your hips, his breath hot against your ear as his buff body presses against your back. “Is this what you wanted?”

With his touch slowly travelling down to your thighs, all words die out on the tip of your tongue and you can only nod, swallowing thickly.

“You were jealous.” He states again, his voice low and gravelly, like the fact wasn’t embarrassing enough being said the one time. “You’d rather Toph made that joke about you, correct?”

You would’ve answered that, if something huge didn’t poke you in the ass the next second.

Heavens, what the hell was— Oh.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Aang murmurs into your ear, giving your thighs reassuring rubs as he grows unbearably hard against your backside. “I don’t want to.. repopulate the Air nation with Katara, if that’s any consolation. I don’t.”

The words do soothe you a little, but the dirty images are burnt into the back of your eyelids, looping in your mind like a cruel parade, making you shudder against him. “Thank you. I just.. I keep imagining it, and it kills me. Just imagining you on top of her and fucking her— Ah!”

You squeal, startled, when you’re swiftly spun around with not so breezy hands, facing his towering figure with a lick of your bottom lip.

His hands hook around the hem, sliding his shirt off to reveal his muscular frame in all its glory, your gaze sliding down the arrow tattoos, but you’re not given much time before the same hands slide down to the back of your thighs to lift you up on the desk.

He sweeps off the paperwork, crowded between your legs, and you can’t help but moan at how much your thighs have to spread just to wrap around his waist.

So big. In every sense of the word.

“This— Is this what you imagine?” The question’s breathless, lowering himself to look at you and you throb at the eye contact. So does he, judging from the twitching you feel against your inner thigh.

You let out a quivery sigh, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders while he leans even closer, his steamy breath mingling with yours. “..Kind of..”

He nods at that, glances around hesitantly, then decides to push you flat down on the desk. It’s firm but not rough, your head landing softly on the hardwood thanks to an air cushion he swirled up. “How about this?”

You’re about to reply with a “maybe” when wild fingers swiftly fumble with his belt, lowering his pants enough for him to spring up— WOAH!

Your face is set ablaze, quickly looking away, eyes blown wide open in a mix of shock, dread, and helpless arousal.

His hands find your hips once more, tugging your skirt up to reveal your plush thighs and a patch of your lacies that has him choking on a gasp.

He grabs your jaw, turning your head back to face him, desire and uncertainty swimming in his pretty brown eyes. “Are you.. sure about this? There’s no going back.”

“Please,” it slips out of you with a needy gasp, your legs wrapping around his waist while your hands roam over his wide shoulders. “Yes.”

With the blood rushing in your ears, you can’t hear his whispered word, but from the way his face scrunches up, you assume it was a curse.

Your skirt is fully ridden up with a gust of wind, one that (unintentionally or not) flicks up against your clothed folds and has you shivering in his grasp.

Thick fingers tug the delicate fabric to the side, and he moans in awe at the sight of your drooling slit, already so ready for him.

“So wet,” he comments as he admires the slick coating your glistening cunt, not ripping his eyes off it like it was a piece of art. The prolonged staring makes you self-conscious and embarrassed, but when your thighs shift just a little bit to hide yourself, firm hands keep them separated and he looks up at you, mildly offended. “No, don’t hide from me. You asked for this.”

“Well, I didn’t think your staring was on the menu,” you sputter out, flushed.

“I’m sorry, she’s just so beautiful.” He sighs softly, and your breath is knocked out of your lungs when he starts tracing your folds. “I can’t believe you’re already this wet. You wanted me this badly?”

His questions are genuine, but they only increase your shame. Aang senses that, and so decides to finally give you a taste of what you want.

“Fuck—!” Your back archs off the desk with a yelp, two of his abnormally big digits prodding at your sopping wet hole. It takes some time, but when they finally slip inside you, your pussy greedily sucks them in, earning a pleased grunt from him. “Good girl. Gripping me so nicely.”

It feels illegal to even hear such words from him outside the fake scenarios you touched yourself to at night. More desperate mewls are coaxed out of you when he starts scissoring you open, the pads of his fingertips pressing skillfully against your spongy spot and curling upwards.

“Need to get you ready for me,” he breathes out, stretching you out with a third finger that has you ferally clawing at his back. “So you can take me.”

Steam is wafting off him as he pounds his fingers in and out of your tight walls, unable to look away from your fluttering cunt. His calloused thumb comes to swipe over your perked up clit, a wail ripping through your throat. The sound has him lifting his eyes to check on you, and the sight of tears filling the rim of your eyes, your lips contorted into a quivering pout, your hair pooling so prettily around your head, sends a hot jolt of arousal down to his cock.

“Spirits, you—you’re so pretty.” He babbles dazedly, dragging another scream out of you with a thrust of his fingers. “Pretty, pretty girl. I need you now.”

With a few more rubs to your puffy clit, he suddenly pulls away, your arms tightening around him with a pitiful cry.

“No no, don’t cry, please.” Aang wipes the tears off your eyes, stealing a warm kiss from your puckered lips. “I’ll take care of you now baby, I promise.”

His entire body burned hot with his firebending, but especially his hands; scalding as they slid up the back of your thighs to push your legs up against your chest in a mating press.

But even his hot touch paled in comparison to the heat between your thighs.

He exhales through his nose, one of his hands ditching you to wrap around his girthy cock, lazily fisting himself as the tip flushed an angrier red, veins forking up the length.

You gasp when he lines himself up, the leaking tip gliding over your slit like he owned it, and your eyes roll back at its pure thickness.

You didn’t even know if you could take him.

He lowers himself over you, his bare chest pressed flush against yours as he litters your neck with warm open-mouthed kisses. “Ready for me?”

He takes your pathetic whimper as a “yes”, swallowing it with his tongue while he slowly pushes in.

His pre-cum mixes with your slick in filthy squelches, and you both moan loudly when he finally pushes through the tight ring of muscle, plunging into your velvety walls.

You’d think it’d be easier with him prepping you with three of his fingers, but the big stretch was still scream-worthy.

“I—I can’t,” he whines against your lips after some minutes pass by, frowning down at you so sweetly. “I really want to be gentle and good to you, b-but it’s so hard. With how you feel around me, I just wanna— wanna— ugh, lose control. You— feel so good..”

His words have your organs collapsing against each other, your cunt fluttering around him with arousal at the thought of rough sex with the sweet, tender Avatar before you.

How could you resist such a nasty demand made with the most adorable look?

“Lose it.” You whisper into his mouth, feeling his entire back tense up under your hands. You pull him in for a brief kiss, “I want you to lose it.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, your eyes widening at the flickering of his tattoos. “D—Don’t say that.”

His slow thrusts grow faster and rougher, each inch splitting you further and completely numbing your tipsy mind, broken moans ripping through your hoarse throat when he bottoms out.

You try to adjust to his size, the lingering pain only increasing your pleasure as he rolls his hips into the flesh of your ass, his grip deadly tight around your folded thighs. “Spirits—”

The desk clatters under you, mewling in tandem while he tries to fight the Avatar state, flashes of blinding white forcing you to shut your eyes but they were just as quickly forced back open at the animal pounding that accompanied them.

Holy mother of God, you could feel him in your womb.

“Is—” He grunts, suddenly ripping your top off with his teeth to bare your chest to his hungry gaze. You’re taken off guard, choking on your startled yelp when he hikes your hips up to deepen his angle and fuck you harder, his eyes drinking in the bounce of your gorgeous tits. “Is this what you imagined?”

You could hardly tell if it was Aang anymore, tears streaming down your face and hiccuping sobs while his wild thrusts bruised your cervix.

You feel him twitch inside you, his pace stuttering for a second, and that’s when you know he’s close.

He leans down to capture one of your peaked nipples between his teeth, nipping and licking at the sensitive bud as he reveled in your whiny cries. His svelte fingers take care of the neglected one, twisting and rolling it while his tongue flicked harshly against your left.

When his lips close on it in a sucking motion, your mind goes blank and your eyes cross, drool leaking out of your mouth when you open it to beg for release.

With your pleading and the way your cunt lovingly squeezes around his throbbing dick, he completely loses it and brutally picks up the pace.

“Gonna.. gonna cum,” he slurs, latching off your chest to gaze down at your wrecked face. “Pump you full of me. That’s what you want, right?”

He takes your loud moan to his words as approval, drunk on your noises as he fucks you with the stamina that could only belong to the Avatar.

“Fuck, need— need to breed you.” He turns into an incoherent mess, each thrust fucking your earlier scenarios right out of your head, Katara’s image gradually being replaced by yours. Your nails draw blood, scratching down his muscular back while he gets off to the thought of knocking you up, his fingers sliding down to rub fast circles on your clit. “My—my sweet girl, gonna give me lots of little Airbenders. You want that, don’t you? Stuffed full of my cum, bearing my children. You’ll make me a daddy.”

If his cock destroying your cervix wasn’t enough to make you cum, his words definitely did it.

Your orgasm crashes over you, your toes curling in the air, gushing all over him with a broken cry and so does he, the feel of your walls clamping down on him so tightly tipping him over the edge as hot ropes of thick cum paint your insides white.

It’s so warm — and so much — you almost cum again from the sheer sensation.

“Gonna get you pregnant,” he breathlessly pants, angling your hips up for none of his cum to slip out of you. Your pussy spasms around him, thoroughly milking him dry and you don’t know if it’s just the tipsiness, but you could swear you felt all his warm seed seep through your cervix and fill up your womb.

You’re both drenched in sweat, fighting for air. He gives you a few more thrusts for good measure, draining himself out entirely, eliciting an overstimulated mewl from you, before reluctantly pulling out of what he would later consider his home.

Dazed, he watches your swollen folds clench around nothing, and when he sees some of his cum dribble out of them, he tuts and fingers it back inside you. He does this for the next minutes, making sure you’ve taken all of him, appreciating your needy squirms and whimpers each time.

When he’s satisfied with himself, he exhales deeply, all his earlier savageness gone for an affectionate look in his eyes as he gazes down at you. He gives you a fond smile, pressing his large palm flat against where your womb is. “You’ll grow me some Airbenders in here, won’t you? Birth me back my nation?”

Too fucked out to answer, you nod weakly, limp in his grasp. He leans down to kiss you tenderly, slow and warm and wet. “I can’t wait. In some months, everyone will know what happened here. They’ll know who you belong to, who you craved tonight. You’ll be all big and swollen with my babies.”

The thought has you furiously blushing, your arms wrapping tighter around his shoulders. “W-Well.. it’s still too early to know if I’ll be preg—”

“Oh you will be.” He answers with a cheeky grin, patting your belly again. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

You blink at him, incredulous, a small smile tugging at your lips too. “But that’s not how it works. There’s no guarantee that I’m pregnant, even if you know what you’re doing.”

At that, he groans, tucking his face into the crook of your neck while his heavy body rests over yours. “But I’m the Avatar. My stuff’s gotta be special. I’m sure it worked, you’re definitely knocked up.”

You return his tired hug, letting out a soft exasperated sigh. “.. Sure, Aang.”

Meanwhile, everyone downstairs remained blissfully ignorant of what the hell happened a floor above them, all busy with their drinks and tipsy banter.

All, except for a very drunk earthbender that heard everything through the walls. Who was thankfully way too drunk to properly tell the others, only shouting garbled congratulations to the ceiling that nobody bothered to understand. “Niiiice. Good going, Twinkle toes. You lucky dog.”

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* i’d be popping out babies left and right with this yummy bald man.. if you see any mistakes leave me alone i hate proofreading.

little gift for bae @singse

[danbjoo]

MDNI. ➜ you can read this ꒰ fluffly ꒱ instead. ;)

# ﹙ sweet aang with a mess inside his pants. ﹚ ʚ 𝗌𝗎𝖻!𝖺𝖺𝗇𝗀 ɞ

Nails crawl down your back under the shirt; despite being so immersed in the delight of lust and desire, Aang manages not to do it so hard, but still enough to mark you with soft pink lines. He doesn’t want to hurt you; he really doesn’t, but fuck, it feels too good. You make him feel so loved and desired to the point of not believing that he deserves it.

That he deserves you.

Having you like this, on top between his legs, dominating him in a way that makes him wet his pants like a damn filthy pervert who doesn’t know how to control his hormones every time you touch him, kiss him or just say “I love you” against his skin. You’re so much for him. So kind, so sweet, god, he loves you.

And, above everything, he loves to be yours.

Fingers tangled in your hair while he makes sure to give you enough space between his neck and collarbone, where your skillful lips leave a sloppy reddish trail. He whines in your ear, feeling you play with his tip through the soaked fabric; hips pushing up, desperately trying to rub even more against the palm of your hand as he—gently—pulls the hair already wrapped in his fingers. He’s getting loud, really loud and he knows it by the way his shameful sounds bounce off the walls until they reach his ears. Pitchy, ascending more higher when your hand starts to move faster.

“I thought you were already a big boy who knew how to control himself.” It’s pathetic how much effect that teasing tone in your whisper has on him; tickling in his stomach and twitching in his needy dick that only gets worse when he hears you snort. Oh, you feel it.

“I am, I am,” For his misfortune you return back to the slowness, gently cupping the sticky silhouette in his crotch. “Mmm’sorryy, I’m trying, l’mmph really trying.”

This is the exact moment when you most want to keep his angelic sounds inside your ears.

He breaks into a big, loud gasp when you—abruptly—squeeze the pre-cum out of him. Nails burying strangely pleasant in your skin. Your poor boy is shaking, why are you being so mean to him? He has always been such a good boy to you, right?, this is unfair. He hasn’t even touched you back because he knows he must behave and wait for your permission.

This is getting him desperate, he craves to feel you with no clothes involved.

By now his pretty mouth is drooling, and you can’t help but take the time to run your thumb over the shiny lower lip, memorizing that lustful expression deep in your mind. “I wish you could see this, the strong, powerful Avatar reduced to nothing more than a trembling mess in my bed, what a view, ah?”

There’s not even a little shyness behind the whimper he just grant to you. Keep talking to him like that if you want him to cum in five.

“i can’t, i want—i need,”

“What is it?”

“C-Can you touch me—properly, please, please?”

How can you say no? Like I said, Aang’s been such a good boy for you. Worthy of a prize.

Most importantly, there was no way to regret seeing those puppy eyes get excited when you finally yanked off his pants.

notes; thinking about sub aang makes me crazyyy, i NEED to get that man pregnant or i’ll die, seriously. anyway, i made this short writing to test the waters on how you guys feel about this, please let me see what you think!! also let me know if you want more about this and if with any other character;-)

P.S. send me your good energy so i can finish an Aang fanfic that i’ve been working on since May, damn. i also need to organize my blog properly after disappearing for so long, uuuggghh. SORRY FOR THIS BIG ASS NOTE.

© danbjoo.2026. with all my heart i really hope you like this, comments and reblogs are completely appreciated. ♡

[kenforty]

₊°｡❆ arrange marriage with chief!sokka.

it's cold, awfully cold when you arrive at the southern pole.

still in your wedding gown, light blue fabric wrapped around your body, faint jingles ringing with each step.

walking beside your husband, you rubbed your hands together, trying to prevent the warmth from seeping out.

sokka looked over and chuckled, hauling your luggage with ease, "It'll be warmer inside." puff of air surrounding his face, as he effortlessly walked towards the glacial house.

his fur coat barely did anything to hide his bulk, silhouette of his muscles visible through the coat, thick and straining against the weight of the luggage.

you averted your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the path inside.

once inside, you immediately relaxed, feeling a bit warmer, gaze drifting from one corner to another, looking through his space, now yours too.

"alma set everything up." he set the luggage down, turning around to close the door.

you recognised the name alma, the old lady that officiated your wedding, speaking of her, "where is she? it seemed a bit quiet out there." you stepped aside, letting him pick up the luggage again.

"they're preparing for the celebration." he beckoned you forward, head tilting towards the inner rooms, "welcoming cheftain's wife."

you nodded your head, eyes lingering on the thick mattress as you stepped into the bedroom, dark wooden pillars on each corner, dense curtains tied to them.

"are these for the cold?" you asked, reaching up for the curtains, feeling the thick texture between your fingers, "it's damask is good for insulation."

sokka looked at you, gaze remaining on your hands, "we don't—they serve a different purpose." he stammered, before ducking his head lower and hastily walking towards the wooden closet, depositing your personal belongings by it.

you didn't question him further, settling on the bed as he handed you a blanket, watching him meticulously organise your new home.

"so, how do you manage to stay warm then?" you chimed curiously, cocooned in thick woollen blanket, arms wrapped around your torso.

sokka glanced your way, eyes dipping lower for a fraction before they rose back up, meeting yours for a fleeting moment, "I'll show you, someday." mumbling, he went back to unpacking your luggage, tip of his ears rosy as he avoided your eyes.

the answer registered too soon, warmth blooming in your belly at the implications, suddenly you weren't as cold anymore.

[rubyys-domain]

[CHAPTER SIXTEEN]

when FIRELORD ZUKO takes a liking to AVATAR AANG'S mysterious new BRIDE.

TORN BETWEEN TWO ROADS ! — aang x reader x zuko

PLOT. republic city is finally at peace, and for once, katara allows herself to hope—maybe now, after everything, she and aang can finally become something real. but when aang returns after eight months, he isn’t alone. he comes back with you at his side, introducing you as his wife. suspicious yet helpless, his friends do their best to welcome you, even as nothing about this sudden marriage makes sense. but while everyone else keeps their distance, one person doesn’t. and perhaps Zuko gets a little too comfortable with the avatar’s new wife.

CHARACTERS. AANG and ZUKO.

CHAPTER WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, blood, mentions of premeditated murder, head injury, angst, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

(please check the story masterlist for the story warnings.)

WC. 6.5k

masterlist : story masterlist

chapter fifteen

art creds :: chamiii07, ilameys

a/n: guys, i am such a dumbass. it feels like i've been writing this story for years when it hasn't even been that long. i genuinely could not, for the life of me, remember how zuko refers to the reader throughout the story. i settled for "my lady," but if anyone knows, do let me know because i think i simply avoided using any titles.

i am truly in the depths of despair at the fact that i can't even remember my own story anymore. :(

"You heard right, my lord," Renshi replied, his voice neither hurried nor uncertain, carrying the calm acceptance of a man who had already resigned himself to whatever judgment awaited him.

"You're telling me my sister orchestrated the attack upon my palace."

"Yes, my lord."

"I do not believe you." His answer came without hesitation, though he found himself wanting to. "Azula has been confined for years. She could not have walked freely through the streets, much less this palace."

"I understand your disbelief," Renshi answered quietly. "But she was here. I saw the princess with my own eyes. Yesterday, she stood within these very halls while the palace burned around us."

"...That is impossible." Iroh's voice comes in, holding the same disbelief that Zuko was experiencing.

The Grand Chamberlain nodded in agreement. "If Princess Azula had escaped her confinement, Fire Lord, word would have reached us immediately. Every governor and military outpost receives notification the moment a royal prisoner is unaccounted for."

"So I believed," Zuko replied, frustration creeping into his voice. "Yet they continue to insist otherwise."

He faced Renshi once again.

"If she was truly here..." he said, each word measured carefully, "where is she now?"

Renshi lowered his eyes. "She departed with those who escaped the palace. The rest of us remained behind."

The old captain drew a slow breath, expecting to continue, but Zuko cut him off before another word could leave his mouth.

"How?"

Renshi looked up.

"My lord?"

"My sister." Zuko's voice had hardened. "How did she become involved with the Shinu when your lord resented her?"

Daiken answers his question, taking over for his father. 

"It was never part of the original plan."

Renshi inclined his head, allowing him to continue.

"Like my father mentioned, our former clan leader wished to restore our family's claim through diplomacy." Daiken kept his eyes lowered, speaking carefully. 

"He knew you too had suffered beneath Fire Lord Ozai's rule after you were banished. He believed that, given enough time, the matter could be settled without bloodshed."

"A marriage alliance," Zuko said quietly, remembering what had been mentioned earlier.

"Yes." Daiken nodded.

"Tell me more about it."

"The young master's sister was to be offered in marriage. The clan believed that if you accepted her hand, both bloodlines could coexist without another civil conflict."

"And then the clan leader died."

The answer came from Renshi this time.

"Their eldest son inherited the clan...but he was not his father. He had no interest in peace," Renshi continued. 

"He believed diplomacy had only weakened our house. He wanted the throne taken.."

Zuko folded his arms.

"How did that path led him to Azula?"

Neither father nor son answered immediately.

Finally, Daiken spoke. "It was she who approached him."

"What?"

"Princess Azula sought him out a few weeks ago." Daiken swallowed. "She told him she had no desire to see the throne pass to you. She said if our clan wished to reclaim it...she would help us."

Zuko stared at him.

"...Why?"

"She said she had no interest in ruling beside a weak king." Daiken's mouth tightened. "She promised that once you were dead, she would see the throne restored to our young master. In return..." He hesitated. 

"...she asked only one thing."

"What?"

"That your death belong to her." The chamber went completely still and the three prisoners lowered their eyes. 

"She departed with those who escaped the palace. The rest of us remained behind." After a brief pause, he drew a slow breath before continuing. 

"My lord...We have told you everything we know. I ask only that you grant safe passage to my youngest son. My eldest and I will remain here and answer for our crimes, but Kaito has no future if he remains."

The boy immediately struggled against his chains.

"Father, no—"

"Enough," Daiken interrupted firmly, not even looking toward him. "Be silent."

Kaito's protest died upon his lips, though the fear lingering in his eyes remained impossible to ignore.

Zuko looked at the boy only briefly before turning away. His thoughts had already raced elsewhere, every instinct urging him toward the upper floors of the palace.

"Keep them under constant watch," he ordered the guards outside, already making for the door. "No one is to enter this chamber without my permission."

The captain struck his fist against his chest. "Yes, Fire Lord."

"Uncle. Grand Chamberlain." Zuko did not slow his pace. "Meet me in my study."

Neither man questioned him as they had heard enough to know something had gone terribly wrong.

The door had closed behind Zuko with a quiet click after his visit to you new chambers, leaving the room wrapped in a silence that felt suffocating. 

You remained seated upon the bed long after he had gone, staring blankly toward the new royal garments hanging neatly on the wooden rack across the room, though your thoughts had wandered far from silk robes and palace chambers. 

No matter how desperately you tried to steady your breathing, your mind refused to remain still, returning to the conversation you had shared only moments ago, to what you knew Zuko had wished to discuss, to the mistake you wished with every part of yourself had never happened.

The maids entered not long afterward to help you change into a lighter robe for the afternoon. You thanked them quietly, allowing them to brush out your hair and adjust the fresh bandages beneath your shoulder wrappings before one of them approached with the tray containing the physician's medicines.

"My Lady, it is time for your second dose." She said gently, placing the wooden tray on the bedside table.

You accepted the bitter syrups without complaint, swallowing each one with practiced reluctance before taking the small capsule the physician had prescribed in front of you that morning. The familiar taste lingered unpleasantly upon your tongue, making you grimace ever so slightly.

"I shall be resting for the remainder of the day," you informed them once the tray had been cleared away. "Please do not disturb me unless it is absolutely necessary."

The women bowed in understanding.

"Of course." 

Once they had gone, the room fell silent again.

You lowered yourself carefully against the pillows, mindful not to aggravate your wound, and closed your eyes in the hope that sleep would quiet the thoughts refusing to leave you. 

Instead, your mind wandered to Aang almost immediately, wondering whether he had reached Republic City safely, whether he had remembered to eat, whether Appa had grown tired after such a long journey.

Then, without invitation, another face intruded.

The golden eyes.

You groaned softly, covering your face with both hands.

"No..."

The whispered plea was directed at no one but yourself.

You refused to think about him. You refused to replay the conversation, the kiss, or even the entire night for that matter. 

You had made your decision the moment he left this room. 

It had been a mistake. One that would remain buried forever.

Eventually, exhaustion succeeded and sleep claimed you before another thought could form.

You awoke with a sharp breath at the sound of the chamber door closing.

For a brief, disoriented moment you remained still, blinking against the darkness that had settled beyond the windows. The last traces of daylight had vanished entirely, replaced by lantern light flickering warmly across the walls.

A maid stood near the entrance, offering you an apologetic bow.

"I beg your pardon for waking you, My Lady, but it is time for your evening medicine."

You glanced toward the window, surprised to find the sky already swallowed by night.

"I had not intended to sleep so long, but my body feels well rested." You murmured, slowly pushing yourself upright as you looked at the maid's tray.

"I had believed it best to eat before taking my medicine."

"The physician instructed us not to delay your dosage. You may eat afterward. Another maid has already prepared your meal and will assist you once you have taken your medicine."

You nodded in understanding, watching her prepare the medicines on the bedside table. One by one, the familiar bottles were arranged before you exactly as they had been earlier that day.

Then your attention settled upon something new.

Beside the usual capsule rested another, slightly smaller than the first and your brows knitted together.

"I do not believe I was prescribed that."

The maid looked up immediately.

"Lord Zuko instructed that it be added after consulting with the physician this afternoon."

You continued studying the unfamiliar medicine.

"He did?"

"Yes, My Lady."

Silence settled between you for a moment before you slowly shook your head.

"I shall not be taking it."

The maid blinked.

"My Lady?"

"I was feeling considerably better this morning than I had been yesterday." You reached instead for the medicines you recognized, swallowing the bitter syrups first before taking the original capsule prescribed by the physician. 

Setting the empty cup aside, you glanced once more toward the unfamiliar medicine remaining untouched upon the tray. 

"If Lord Zuko believes another dosage necessary, I would rather hear it from him directly."

The maid shifted awkwardly where she stood, her fingers tightening around the edge of the tray.

"My Lady...he only wishes for your recovery."

"I do not doubt his intentions," you replied gently, "but I would still prefer to ask him myself before adding another medicine to those I have already been prescribed."

She hesitated, clearly uncertain how to proceed.

"Then...shall I send word for His Majesty?"

You inclined your head.

"Please do."

The maid did not answer back, neither did she move when you expected her to leave.

At first, you assumed she had simply been considering your request, her silence no different from the hesitation of every servant unwilling to question a royal command. 

Yet the longer it lingered, the more unnatural it became.

"Is Lord Zu—"

The word never left your lips.

A violent force struck the side of your forehead, shattering against your temple before you even registered the object in her hand. 

The porcelain vase that had rested innocently upon your bedside table only moments ago exploded across your bedding and the floor in a shower of broken fragments, while a sharp pain burst through your skull making your vision blurred.

A cry escaped you involuntarily as you toppled sideways onto the mattress, one hand flying instinctively to your head, feeling warmth seeped rapidly between your fingers.

Before you could gather yourself, the maid was already upon you.

Her knee drove into the mattress beside your waist, pinning you in place while one hand seized your jaw with surprising strength. The other held the unfamiliar capsule between two fingers, forcing it toward your lips.

"Open your mouth."

Your eyes widened in horror.

You twisted away with every ounce of strength you possessed, your injured shoulder screaming in protest as the sudden movement tore painfully through the healing flesh beneath its bandages. 

The pain was blinding, yet your terror seemed to drowned it out completely. You shoved against her arm, shaking your head violently until the capsule slipped from her grasp, bouncing once against the blankets before disappearing somewhere onto the floor.

"No!"

The woman cursed beneath her breath and you took advantage of that single moment.

With both hands you thrust against her shoulders, managing to throw her balance just enough to scramble free. 

Every movement sent agony tearing across your back, but the matter of  survival silenced every complaint your body tried to make. 

You slipped from the bed awkwardly, nearly collapsing as your bare feet struck the floor, trying to avoid the shattered vase on the floor as you moved toward the chamber door.

Although, you couldn't reach it as an arm wrapped around your waist from behind, wrenching you backwards with startling force. Before you could scream, her hand clamped tightly over your mouth, smothering every sound, and something cold settled against the side of your neck.

Steel.

Your entire body went rigid realizing what it was, feeling the blade pressed just enough for its edge to bite against your skin.

"There now," the woman murmured near your ear, her voice stripped entirely of the softness and gentle politeness she had worn only moments ago. 

"Let's not make this difficult, hm?"

Your breathing came in frantic, muffled gasps beneath her hand, tears stinging your eyes more from fear than pain.

"You ruined everything," she hissed. 

"Do you have any idea how irritating you are? We were certain you would die last night." A humorless laugh escaped her. "Imagine my surprise when I heard he did everything to help you survive."

You squeezed your eyes shut.

Who...?

"I should've known I couldn't leave something this important to other people."

The knife shifted ever so slightly against your throat.

"If you had simply swallowed the medicine, none of this would've been necessary."

A knock echoed through the chamber.

"My Lady?"

The familiar voice beyond the door froze the blood in your veins.

Zuko.

The woman behind you smiled.

"Perfect timing," she whispered, tightening her grip around your mouth before leaning closer. 

"Let him in. You're going to tell your guard everything is fine."

Your breathing slowed down, trying to meet the woman's eyes in your confusion who didn't seem to realize it was the Fire Lord standing outside your door. 

If she had, she wouldn't have suggested letting him enter.

"Now," the woman whispered against your ear, the blade remaining firm beneath your jaw, "convince him you're alright and tell him to leave."

Your throat felt painfully dry but you forced yourself to breathe despite the sharp blade pressing against your skin.

"C-come in."

The hand over your mouth disappeared as the woman retreated in silence, taking you with her until your back met the heavy curtains beside the window. She disappeared behind the fabric, leaving only the knife visible where it rested against your throat.

The chamber door opened.

Zuko stepped inside cautiously, his eyes finding you almost immediately. Relief flickered across his features for the briefest moment before concern replaced it entirely.

"My Lady..." His voice softened. "You are bleeding."

You could not answer, feeling yourself stricken with fear, feel the cold steel on your skin despite it not being there.

"Zuko...I am fine."

His eyebrows grew knitted as he crossed half the room in only a few strides, alarm growing with each step as he took in the fresh blood running from your forehead.

"What happened?" he demanded. "Did you fall? Why are there no—"

The curtains stirred in such a subtle movement that he almost overlooked it, ruling it out as a breeze.

But seeing a faint shadow move with it made his halt in his steps.

The woman emerged from behind the crimson drapery with effortless grace, one arm sliding around your shoulders while the other brought the dagger back against your throat before you had the chance to move. 

You trembled violently beneath her hold, your breathing turning shallow as the woman smiled over your shoulder.

Golden eyes met amber.

"...Azula."

The name escaped Zuko soundlessly making his sister tilt her head, the familiar smirk spreading across her face.

"Hello, Zuzu."

You stared ahead in stunned silence.

Azula.

The name echoed through your mind.

The first time you heard it was from Aang. It had been one quiet evening after you absentmindedly traced the scar upon his lower back with gentle fingertips, asking him how he had come by such a terrible wound. 

He had never given you the full story, only telling you that the Fire Lord's daughter, Azula, had nearly killed him years before the war ended, and that it was a memory none of his friends liked revisiting because, for a brief moment, they had all believed they had lost him.

The second time was only the night before, from Zuko himself. As the two of you spoke through the long hours until dawn, he had shared pieces of his past that left your heart aching for the lonely boy he once was. 

You had noticed more than once, more than his own father, he had looked troubled speaking of Azula.

At the time, you felt strongly that Zuko blamed himself for most of the failures surrounding his life, including the downfall of his sister that landed her in the asylum.

Both him and Aang had looked disturbed speaking of this woman, and looking at her now, it became painfully obvious why.

"Let her go, Azula." You observe Zuko as he spoke, noticing his inclined posture in case his sister takes any drastic measures.

Her response was a mere chuckle, feeling the sound creep down your skin and root fear in your body.

"As much as I'd love to catch up," she sighed dramatically, "I have to admit, I'm a little disappointed." Her eyes drifted down toward you before returning to her brother. 

"I thought you'd be married to Mai by now. Guess that's over. Killing her would have been killing two birds with a single stone, after all, she betrayed me too." She sighs, her mouth curving up to be a cruel smirk

"But this one..." Azula drags her last words, her vacant hand weaving through your hair and tugging harshly making you gasp at the pain.

"...is good enough. It was a perfect opportunity to let that lonesome airbender out of your clutches."

Despite the terror coursing through your body, something hot settled beneath your ribs. You turned your head ever so slightly.

"Lonesome...airbender?" you repeated quietly, your voice unsteady despite your efforts to steady it. "That...is a curious way...to refer to my husband."

Azula smiled.

"Is that so?"

"It...is inaccurate."

A soft hum escaped her. "You don't think he's lonely?"

You frowned. "He has...never been!"

"Not anymore," she corrected pleasantly. "Though I suppose nearly dying has a way of making people appreciate company."

Her fingers absently twirled a strand of your hair before tightening without warning, drawing another sharp breath from you.

"Then again..." She tilted her head ever so slightly, studying your face with open fascination. "Perhaps he simply found someone lonelier than himself."

When you refused to answer, your silence only seemed to amuse her further.

"Oh, don't look so offended." Her eyes wandered leisurely across your face, lingering upon the tears gathering despite your determined attempts to blink them away.

"Let her go, Azula."

Zuko's voice cut through the corridor before she could continue, both hands lifting slowly in front of him as he settled into a stance prepared to move at a moment's notice.

"I will not hold back this time."

His sister's smile never faltered.

Zuko's mind raced.

As long as Azula kept you pressed against her, she could shift your body into the path of any attack he launched, and no matter how precise he believed his bending to be, there was no strike he trusted enough to risk your life upon. One wrong movement, one instinctive flinch, and you would be the one paying for his mistake.

He had to remain patient.

Whatever had happened inside that asylum during the past decade, it could not have left her untouched. She had yet to summon even the smallest flicker of flame, something that unsettled him almost as much as it reassured him. Azula had never hesitated to bend before, especially when fire had always been the first language she spoke.

Perhaps she truly hadn't recovered.

Perhaps the years of confinement had weakened her more than anyone anticipated.

Or perhaps...

She wanted him to believe exactly that.

He couldn't afford to gamble on either possibility when the only certainty before him was the blade resting against your throat, and as long as it remained there, provoking her any further would only place you in greater danger.

Yet that was precisely what you continued to do.

The night before, as the two of you sat speaking until dawn, he had begun noticing the things he had overlooked. The careful composure you wore whenever you wished to hide your emotions, the subtle tightening of your hands whenever anxiety crept into your thoughts or whether it be the measured cadence of your voice whenever you forced yourself to remain calm.

Looking at you now, he saw through it immediately.

You were terrified.

So terrified that he hadn't see you move form your place this entire time.

Your feet had not shifted from where Azula first positioned you, despite her constant shuffling behind you. It looked as though your body no longer belonged to you. 

The only signs of life were the minute tremors gathering beneath your eyes, the uneven rise and fall of your chest, and the almost imperceptible shudder that passed through you whenever Azula's voice rose into that deceptively sharp tone she reserved for tormenting others.

Even so, you refused to lower your gaze.

Every word you spoke, every response you gave was steady despite the tears threatening to spill over, and Zuko understood you weren't speaking for yourself.

You were speaking for Aang.

Whatever fear gripped your body had been eclipsed, however briefly, by the anger you carried on your husband's behalf, and it was that anger keeping your voice from breaking.

But it also threatened to get you killed, and if he was going to keep you safe, he would need you to move.

"Your hands haven't stopped shaking since I put this blade to your throat." Azula continues her taunts.

You hadn't even realized they were.

"You are frightened. Your pulse has been racing this entire conversation." Another faint smile curved her lips. "Yet you keep speaking."

"I think...you've spoken enough...for all of us, Miss Azula."

Zuko wanted to tell you to stop.

Every instinct screamed at him to keep her talking, to prevent Azula's attention from shifting toward violence, yet hearing you speak so casually to her filled him with dread.

You, however, could not stop.

All you could see was the scar beneath Zuko's eye.

All you could remember was Aang's quiet voice telling you that he had nearly died because of the woman standing behind you.

And even if she terrified you, your fear had found company in your anger.

Azula's smile lingered. You had spoken back to her twice now without flinching, and while she masked her irritation well, you noticed the subtle tightening of the hand gripping your hair.

"I suppose my brother has always had questionable taste," she mused, tilting her head ever so slightly. "First that Water Tribe peasant, now..." Her eyes wandered over you deliberately before settling upon your face. "...you."

Zuko's pulse lurched.

"My sister," he warned quietly, refusing to take his eyes off the dagger pressed against your throat, "this does not end well for you."

She rolled her eyes.

"You've always been dramatic, Zuzu."

"I am serious."

"So am I." The playfulness vanished from her voice so completely that the room seemed to grow colder.

"I've spent years listening to everyone praise you." Her grip around your hair tightened. 

"The banished prince became the noble Fire Lord. The disappointment became Father's greatest regret. Even uncle got his happy ending." She sneered again.

"It makes me sick."

"You brought this upon yourself," Zuko replied. "You had every opportunity to choose differently."

"I did choose."

"You chose revenge." His voice remained level despite the anger steadily rising beneath it. 

Azula scoffed. "And you chose weakness."

You watched Zuko's face, slowly realizing this conversation had happened a hundred different ways before you had ever entered his life. They were no longer arguing about the present. They were children again, standing beneath the shadow of a father who had taught them that affection had to be earned.

Then Zuko spoke again.

"I know about the Shinu. The prisoners talked," Zuko continued. "They told me everything."

"Did they?" she asked lightly, though you noticed her attention sharpen. "Which ones?"

Zuko did not answer.

"They told me enough."

A slow smile returned to her lips.

"Still protecting your little informants?" She chuckled. "How noble."

"They said you approached their leader and you promised him the throne."

At his words, there was a terrible pause in everything around you, physically feeling Azula's skin get colder against you, rivaling that of the cold blade. 

Then Azula laughed, throwing her head back and cackling openly. Your eyes instinctively sought Zuko's, silently pleading for his help in a way you couldn't bring yourself to voice, only for him to give the smallest shake of his head, far too familiar with his sister's games. 

Without taking his eyes off Azula, he subtly gestured for you to stop speaking, silently urging you not to indulge her any further.

"Oh, Spirits..." She wiped an imaginary tear from beneath her eye. "You actually believed that?"

Zuko's expression hardened.

"So you did lie to them."

"I lie all the time." She shrugged effortlessly. "You know that better than anyone, Zuzu."

Her smile widened.

"Did you honestly think I would hand the Fire Nation to the Shinu clan?" The disgust in her voice was unmistakable. "Please. They were useful. That was all."

"Then why involve them at all?"

"Because angry men are remarkably easy to manipulate. You know that very well, don't you?" She leaned her head lazily against yours. 

"Promise them revenge or justice. Promise them whatever they want to hear." Her shoulders lifted in an almost careless shrug. "Once they've served their purpose...they become someone else's problem."

"I never intended to let anyone else sit on my throne." Azula met his gaze without hesitation, amusement dancing behind her golden eyes.

The words echoed through the chamber.

"You forfeited that right long ago." Zuko's expression hardened, though he made no move toward her.

"I disagree." A quiet laugh escaped her. "I still managed to get exactly what I wanted."

His brows drew together.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, unable to conceal the suspicion creeping into his voice.

She tilted your chin upward with the hand holding the dagger.

"Her."

Your stomach tightened.

"If my dear brother hadn't been so hospitable..." she mused, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face with unsettling gentleness, "...I never would've found the perfect piece."

Zuko's face paled.

"You invited the Avatar's wife into your palace." Azula laughed softly. "You placed her beneath your own roof and simply handed me that leverage."

"You are attacking a woman who had nothing to do with this."

"Oh, she has everything to do with this." Her smile widened another fraction. 

"You are so weak, Zuzu. The only ace you have up your sleeve is Aang. If only she had died, maybe he would no longer hold your hand. But I suppose this for the better, because it seems the Avatar would tear this nation apart for her."

"And so would I."

 Azula's eyes snapped to his, and she looked pleased at that response.

"There he is."

The brother she remembered.

The one who reacted before thinking, who let emotion cloud judgment.

"Now..." Azula murmured, and without warning, the dagger slipped from her hand as it clattered loudly against the stone floor.

Zuko reacted instantly as the sound alone was enough to send him surging forward, believing she had finally relinquished her hold upon you, but before he managed so much as a single stride, brilliant blue flames burst to life within the palm of her hand.

He stopped.

Your eyes immediately dropped to the fire dancing only inches from your face, its brilliant blue glow illuminating the chamber as waves of unbearable heat rolled across your skin. Instinctively, you shrank away from it, though there was nowhere for you to retreat with Azula still standing behind you.

"Zuko...?!" Your voice barely rose above a frightened whisper, your panic far more apparent than you wished it to be.

"Do not move, Zuzu." Azula smiled pleasantly, her gaze never leaving her brother. "Or she will be in tremendous pain."

He stepped forward anyway.

It was hardly more than an instinctive shift of his footing, yet the blue fire immediately swelled, roaring several inches higher in Azula's palm.

You recoiled with a sharp gasp, turning your face away from the searing heat as your shoulders instinctively curled inward.

"Azula!" Zuko's voice cracked through the room, stripped of the composure he had fought so hard to maintain.

"Oh, do calm yourself." She sounded almost amused by his desperation. "I have no intention of killing her, Zuzu." The flames flickered lazily between her fingers as though they were nothing more than candlelight. 

"But I do intend to end your tedious little reign once and for all."

Her smile widened.

"And when I reclaim my throne..." Her eyes drifted briefly toward you before returning to Zuko. "...I shall use your dear little hostage to finish what I started all those years ago. I will make sure..."

"...The last airbender dies with his wife."

Unable to keep your mind intact, your body moved first.

With every bit of strength you possessed, you threw your head backwards and the crack echoed sharply through the chamber, as did the sound growing lashing of the flame Azula held.

Azula cried out, more in surprise than pain, stumbling half a step as the bridge of her nose caught the full force of your skull. Her grip loosened around your hair as her hand went flying toward her face, and that single moment was all Zuko had been waiting for.

He crossed the distance between you in an instant, one hand seizing your wrist while the other wraps firmly around your waist, wrenching you free just as Azula recovered. You stumbled against him, losing your footing entirely as he pulled you behind his shoulder, but before either of you could gain another step, blue fire burst across the room.

The flames roared toward you.

You instinctively threw your arms over your head, collapsing onto the floor as heat swept over your body. Every muscle locked in terror, your breathing becoming ragged beneath the ringing in your ears. The scent of burning fabric filled the room, and for one awful heartbeat you could no longer distinguish memory from reality.

Not again.

Please...

Aang...

You wanted him. You wanted him to come back. You didn't want to stay here anymore.

A blast of orange fire collided with the blue flames before they could reach you completely, exploding into sparks that scattered across the polished floor. Zuko drove Azula backward with a second strike, forcing her away from where you had fallen, though she recovered with infuriating ease, laughing even as she retaliated with another stream of blue fire.

"I've missed this!" she called, leaping onto the windowsill before launching herself forward.

"You need help," Zuko growled, deflecting her attack.

"I've had plenty!" she answered cheerfully.

The doors burst open.

Half a dozen Royal Guards stormed into the chamber, drawn by the explosion, only to freeze for the briefest moment upon recognizing the princess standing before them.

"Take her!" Zuko ordered.

Azula laughed again as she fought against the guards.

"Oh, this should be fun."

She struck first, blue lightning flashing between her fingertips, forcing the nearest guards to scatter before she spun gracefully through the room. Two men fell almost immediately, thrown backwards by fire, while another barely managed to restrain her arm long enough for a fourth to seize the other.

The chamber dissolved into chaos as Zuko met Azula's next attack with one of his own, crimson flames colliding against blue in a burst of heat that forced the nearest guards to retreat once more. 

She moved with the same unnerving precision he remembered. Even after a decade of confinement, her instincts had not abandoned her, and for several long moments the two of them seemed to move in perfect opposition, neither willing to surrender an inch of ground.

Yet as the fight dragged on, Zuko began to notice the subtle differences that only someone who had spent a lifetime watching her could have recognized. Her attacks remained as lethal as ever, but there was a fraction more effort behind them than there once had been. 

Her breathing had grown heavier, no longer the calm, measured rhythm she had always maintained in battle, and beneath the glow of her own flames, the color had steadily drained from her face. 

She recovered from each movement a second slower than before, so slight a hesitation that no one else in the chamber appeared to notice, but it was enough for him. 

Ten years imprisoned within stone walls had not dulled her skill, yet her body no longer obeyed with the same relentless endurance it once possessed.

Azula caught the brief flicker of recognition in his eyes and answered it with renewed aggression, driving toward him with a relentless succession of strikes that left scorched stone in their wake. 

Zuko yielded just enough to draw her forward before slipping past the final blast, forcing her to pivot more sharply than she intended. Her footing faltered for only an instant as she regained her balance, but he had spent his entire life waiting for moments exactly like that. 

Closing the distance before she could recover, he caught her wrist as another spark of blue lightning threatened to form, twisting her arm behind her back with enough force to break her stance without causing lasting harm.

"Now!" Zuko shouted.

The remaining guards rushed her together and even Azula could not fight them all.

One by one, they forced her to her knees, iron restraints snapping around her wrists while she struggled violently beneath their weight, blue fire sputtering uselessly against the specialized manacles.

She let out a laugh, wild and unsteady.

"You think chains work on me?" she asked, smiling up at Zuko with frightening certainty. "You really haven't learned anything, have you, brother?"

The room had finally fallen quiet.

Only your uneven breathing remained, broken every so often by another sob you could no longer suppress. The guards had dragged Azula away kicking and laughing and yet your body refused to believe the danger had passed. 

Your fingers clutched at the front of your robes until they ached, your shoulders trembling violently.

"My Lady..."

Zuko crossed the room almost hesitantly now that there was no enemy left to fight. The urgency that had driven every movement moments before dissolved the instant he reached you, leaving only concern as he lowered himself onto the floor beside you. 

He reached for your shoulders with remarkable care, afraid even the smallest touch might reopen the wound beneath your bandages, and when you didn't recoil he searched your face instead, his expression tightening at the fresh blood running from your forehead.

"Did she hurt you anywhere else?" he asked softly, one hand settling against your arm while the other hovered uncertainly over your back, scarcely brushing the fabric where the physician had dressed your injury that morning, noticing the blood seeping through the white fabric..

"Your wound has reopened."

You tried to answer but nothing came out.

The moment you looked at him, another sob escaped instead.

Without thinking, you lurched forward.

Zuko barely had time to catch you before your forehead struck his shoulder, your hands clutching desperately at the front of his robes as though he alone could keep the world from collapsing around you. 

He wrapped his arms around you, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other rested lightly against your shoulder blades, whispering reassurances you scarcely heard through the ringing in your ears.

"You are safe, I am sorry this happened to you." he murmured.

You wanted to believe him but nothing about today had felt safe. 

Your breathing only grew more uneven until dizziness settled over you, your grip weakening despite yourself. Zuko noticed immediately, drawing back just enough to look at you, his brow knitting with fresh concern when your eyes struggled to remain open.

Your grip upon his robes slowly loosened, though you made no move to lean away. You remained pressed against him, your breathing uneven and painfully shallow, until at last you managed to lift your head. 

Your eyes found his almost immediately, and for a long moment you simply stared at him, looking so utterly lost that Zuko felt the same guilt wrap around his throat before he spoke.

"It's alright," he whispered. 

His hand remained cupped gently against the side of your face, brushing away a strand of hair that had become matted with drying blood. 

"You're alright now."

You wanted to answer.

Instead, your lips parted soundlessly, your chest rising with one unsteady breath after another before the strength seemed to drain from your body all at once. Your eyes slipped shut, your forehead falling heavily against his shoulder.

He held you tighter, catching your full weight before you could collapse to the floor. At first he thought you were simply exhausted, but when your shallow breathing persisted, his heartbeat lurched.

"My Lady." His voice came sharper this time, one hand moving to support the back of your neck while the other gently tapped your cheek. "Can you hear me?"

Nothing.

Only the sharp rhythm of your breathing answered him.

Relief and dread collided within him and he couldn't tell which emotion to surrender to first. You had not stopped breathing, yet the sight of you lying motionless in his arms sent every memory from the previous night crashing back with merciless clarity.

"Please..." The word escaped beneath his breath before he had the chance to stop it, his hand instinctively rising, as his thumb lingered against your cheek for only a moment before he gently cupped your jaw, searching desperately for some sign that you remained with him.

When your breathing steadied, however faintly, he allowed himself to breathe as well. The relief left him almost weak, and before he could think better of it, he drew you closer against his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head as though sheltering you there might somehow undo the terror his carelessness led you to experience.

He opened his mouth to call for the palace physician, only then becoming aware of the silence surrounding him.

The chamber stood in complete disarray, shattered porcelain and scorched furniture scattered across the floor, while the guards remained frozen where they stood.

Their eyes lingered not upon the destruction around them, but upon their Fire Lord kneeling on the floor, cradling another man's wife with an emotion far too personal to mistake.

Then his eyes met Uncle Iroh's and he had witnessed everything.

Not a word passed between uncle and nephew, yet Zuko found himself unable to hold his gaze for more than a heartbeat. 

He lowered his eyes again, the hand resting against your cheek slowly fell away as though he had only just become aware of it, and after drawing one slow breath, he tightened his hold beneath your shoulders to support your unconscious weight.

"Send for the physician," he ordered, his voice steady despite everything churning beneath it. 

"Now."

chapter seventeen coming soon...

a/n: fun fact, in my original plot, when this scene was still just a daydream, they were supposed to kiss! but when i actually wrote it, i went, "fuck no."

also, aang will be back next chapter!!

[taglist open] (please mention under the latest chapter or the story masterlist)

masterlist

[rubyys-domain]

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[erlinblake]

Early morning 💛

[thisiscareless]

not every party needs our attendance.

adult!fire lord zuko x fire lady reader | contains smut | mdni. | wc: 2,9K

summary: in which diplomacy is temporarily interrupted because the Fire Lord and Fire Lady are terrible at pretending they can keep their hands off each other.

content: adult zuko, established relationship, post-canon atla, royal event, fluff, explicit sexual content [kneeling/oral (m/f & f/m), desk sex & couch/divan sex, mutual climax, aftercare], risk of being caught, zuko steams, semi-public, praise, humor, gaang mentions.

note: no proofread!we die like men, and I just really wanted to post it so will take a look at it tomorrow. — title inspired by ‘hold tight’ by sabrina carpenter. fulfilling this request! xx

It took longer for you to undo the ties of your formal court robes than it did for Zuko to pull his cock free from beneath his own.

You stroked him a couple of times, looking up at him from between his thighs taking a second to catch your breath.

“You know, we need a better signal for these types of things,” you murmured, looking up at him through your lashes. “If you keep waiting for me to circle back to you, we’re doomed for the rest of the banqueting season.”

“We already agreed on a signal,” he said, letting out a low moan as you licked him from base to tip. You took the head of his cock into your mouth for a swift second before pulling off with a pop.

“Which was…?” You brought both hands into play, stroking him. You were sure the slick noises were barely audible over the noise of the grand hall outside the doors.

He reached down, tugging the lobe of your ear with hardly any force. “The ear tug.”

“I didn’t see you! We have to think of another one.”

“Yeah... let me think,” he rasped, his hand moving to the nape of your neck to guide you back toward his length.

Under his firm grip, you bobbed your head, supporting his weight with one hand while tasting every inch of him. From this angle, he was breathtaking: his robes were an absolute mess, but the gold shoulder plates of his outer coat made his shoulders look even broader. His eyes flicked down to meet yours, his mouth parted, making no effort to hold back the moans spilling past his lips.

You kept going, gripping him tight and using your hand to complement the thrusts into your mouth, right up until his hand tightened in your hair and pulled your head back.

“Not yet. Get up,” he growled, gesturing toward his large desk.

You obeyed, gathering the slick beaded pre-cum from the corner of your mouth with a tip of your finger. “But we have to be back in—”

“Aang is currently trying to convince the Earth Kingdom delegates not to pull out of the council,” Zuko interjected, his voice thick. “I saw Katara on her way to bail him out. That gives us ten minutes, minimum.”

You licked your finger clean. “I like your math. Plus, Sokka is even chattier than usual after three cups of fermented plum wine… That’s another ten minutes right there. If we hurry, we can—”

Zuko shut you up with a kiss, his hands gripping your hips to lift you onto the edge of the desk. Before you could even catch your breath, he pushed you back until you were lying flat against the cool surface.

His hand cupped the side of your breast through your loosened dress. His lips trailed down the column of your neck, down to your chest, kissing one breast while massaging the other. He lavished his tongue over your hardened nipples like a man starved, alternating between them until you were writhing.

“I love to hear you talk,” he said against your skin, “but I love hearing you moan for me even more.”

He tracked a trail of fiery kisses down your abdomen, hooking his arms under your knees to spread your legs wide until he was kneeling between them. Without wasting another second, he dove straight for your center.

“Agni…” you gasped, your back arching off the hard desk. “Mm, I love—fuck taking a break!”

“Mhm…” he hummed against your heat. The vibration forced your hands to scramble for purchase on the edge of the desk, recklessly scattering parchment and official seals in the process.

Your whimpers only encouraged him. Zuko pinned you steady with a heavy arm across your lower abdomen. His free hand drove two fingers deep inside you, slipping in and out in tandem with the punishing work of his tongue against your clit.

He was rsdiating heat. His breath burned sweet against your skin, his eyes locking with yours through the haze of pleasure, absolutely devoted. You reached down to touch his face, carefully avoiding his hair; the golden Fire Lord crown was still pinned into his formal topknot, holding the half-updo required for the gala you’d just escaped.

Seeing how desperate you were becoming, Zuko suddenly pulled away and straightened up.

“What…?” you pleaded, already missing the heat of him.

“You forget,” he said, a smirk pulling at his lips. “If you want something, all you have to do is ask.”

He reached up, unclasping the Fire Lord crown and pulling the gold pin from his topknot, letting his dark hair fall loose around his shoulders. He shed the heavy red tunic of his state attire, tossing it aside to reveal just his dark under shirt and loose trousers, his cloth belt already untied.

“Wouldn’t want anything getting in the way of the Fire Lady.”

“In that case, lose the shirt already,” you panted, propping yourself up on your forearms. “Oh, maybe that could be the signal. You fixing your collar or undoing a button…”

“I don't think you'd notice that from across a crowded banquet hall,” he teased, unbuttoning his shirt. “Unless you’re always watching me?”

You slid a hand down and circled your own clit a few times under his gaze, making a deep flush creep up his neck to his cheeks.

“I am always watching you, Zu.”

“We wouldn’t even be in this room if it weren’t for my discreet whispers in your ear between greeting dignitaries,” he murmured, leaning down to press a single peck to your clit. “But keep brainstorming…”

He took his shirt off, dropping it somewhere in the study alongside the rest of his discarded attire, and stepped right back into position between your thighs.

The light of the moon, streaming through the grand window behind him, illuminated the flex of his broad, muscular back, highlighting the faint battle scars across his skin as he leaned over you.

His mouth resumed its wicked attack. Without the crown in the way, you finally held Zuko close, burying your fingers deep into his hair.

“Zu—Spirits! Don't stop…”

You pulled his head even closer, rolling your hips into every stroke of his tongue until you were unraveled. The climax hit you hard, shattering your composure as you cried out his name into the empty study.

With a final and lingering kiss to your belly button, Zuko worked his way back up your body, capturing your gasps in a tasting kiss as your high slowly began to settle.

Your hand cupped his cheek, breathless. “I really think now we should—oh!”

Without a word of warning, Zuko scooped you effortlessly off the desk. You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist and hooked your arms over his shoulders, the remnants of your formal dress draping over his forearms.

“Maybe you could just shout,” he suggested, carrying you across the room.

You laughed. “I don’t think screaming your name is very discreet, Fire Lord,” you teased, pushing a stray lock of dark hair from his eye. “It might attract a little attention.”

“Yes, but…” He lowered you onto the plush divan in the corner of his study, his usual spot for informal tea and private council. “…it would be effective. You could just pretend you dropped something.”

You watched him kick his trousers, your eyes tracking the movement of his hands as he stroked his length.

“I drop things all the time. How would you know which stumble is a signal and which is just me being clumsy?”

“Easy,” he said, kneeling on the divan and straddling your thighs. He gave his cock a few pumps that made your mouth water. “If you drop something more than three times in five minutes, it’s definitely a signal.”

You shook your head, a smile breaking through when he leaned down to kiss you, positioning his head at your slick entrance.

“Everyone would make fun of me,” you whispered against his lips, guiding his tip to your center.

“Next thing you know, the High Council will be debating the Fire Lady's tragic lack of coordination.”

He chuckled and pushed inside you in one deep slide.

Both of your moans were muffled together as your lips locked. When he began to move, you could have sworn he was even larger than before. You were so tight around him, wringing sounds from his chest with every heavy thrust.

Zuko leaned his weight onto his hands on either side of your head, his face burying into the crook of your neck as his pace picked up. You closed your eyes, your hands gripping the skin they could find like his back and shoulders, your nails digging in hard enough to leave marks as he drove you wild.

He moved, grabbing both of your legs and hooking them over his shoulders. He thrust once, twice… so hard and so deep that a loud scream escaped your throat before you could stop it.

“Fire Lord?”

Your eyes flew open. You slammed a hand over your mouth. Zuko froze, towering over you.

Normally, if an attendant interrupted, he’d quickly bring you to a hand finish, help you smooth down your clothes, and play the stoic ruler.

Instead, his eyes locked onto yours, and he drove his hips forward in another thrust.

Your eyes squeezed shut, your hand pressing against your lips to muffle the cry that tore from your throat.

“Fire Lord, are you in there?” the attendant called out, knocking.

“Zuko,” you whimpered against your palm, “maybe we should—ah!”

Another deep roll of his hips. You bit down on your hand. Outside, the knocking stopped.

“I’m not stopping,” Zuko stated in a whisper. “Not yet.”

“… Fire Lady?” came another voice from the hallway.

Zuko kept up a merciless pace, giving you just enough time between dragging thrusts to keep from screaming aloud. The only sound in the dimly lit private study was the slap of skin against skin and the heavy sound of his breathing. The fullness of him inside you was overwhelming, to say the least.

“They’re not in there,” the first attendant's voice said.

“They’re probably in the grand kitchen. The Fire Lady mentioned wanting spiced plum cake earlier. Let’s check there..”

The footsteps faded down the corridor. With the threat gone, Zuko lost all restraint. He seized your hips with both hands, pounding into you with force, watching the exact point where his body met yours. You rolled your head back.

When he finally pulled out, he reached down and grabbed your hand, hauling you up into his lap. He caught you in a messy kiss, his hands massaging your hips with a eager heat.

“I could send an attendant to fetch you,” you panted, resting your forehead against his as you sat straddling his lap. “Something official, but not suspicious.”

He stroked your thigh, encouraging you.

You took hold of his cock, guiding him back to your slick entrance, lowering yourself down his length.

“That’s good,” he rasped, his fingers digging into your waist as you took him all the way in. “We could use a code word... Like, ‘The Fire Lord requires a delivery of fire flakes.’”

You stopped mid-motion, looking at him incredulously.

“Are you serious? I’m riding you right now and you’re thinking about snack food?”

Zuko let out a laugh, his hands urging your hips to move. You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips as you began a rolling rhythm on his lap, swallowing his groan with your mouth.

“I can’t think straight when you’re close to me,” he admitted, eyes half closed.

“That’s a bit of a problem considering we’re married,” you teased, setting a rhythm that made his head fall back against the divan. “And I happen to like being close to you. Exhibit A…”

His hands roamed over your bare skin. His heat was rising, radiating from his skin like an oven.

You picked up the pace, riding him harder, feeling the coil in your gut tighten to a snapping point.

Zuko’s hands clamped tight onto your waist, guiding your movements, his hips snapping up to meet yours.

“Spirits… right there!” you gasped, tossing your head back.

He let out a growl against your neck, his thrusts becoming erratic. The friction was electric. You came around him, your internal muscles pulsing tightly against his length, which pushed him over the edge.

With a groan, Zuko poured himself inside you. The sudden release sent a wave of heat rushing through his veins, steam rose off his shoulders and chest in the cool night air of the study.

He held you against his chest, both of your heartbeats hammering together in the quiet room as the steam dissipated, leaving you collapsed against him in blissful exhaustion.

He didn't pull away or rush to sit up. Instead, his fingers trailed lazily up and down the curve of your bare spine, pressing tender kisses to the top of your head, your temple, and finally your lips.

“You okay?” he whispered against your ear.

“More than okay,” you hummed, pressing your face into the still warm crook of his neck. “Though we’re going to be hopelessly late getting back…”

“Let them wait,” Zuko said, his smile pressing into your collarbone. He smoothed back a lock of hair from your forehead, his thumb resting on your cheekbone with an understated tenderness. “I’m in no hurry to go back out there.”

For a few quiet minutes, you stayed wrapped in each other's body. Yours naturally rocked against his in slow pulses, savoring the friction and radiant heat of him inside you, enjoying the rare stillness away from the overwhelming demands of the court.

Zuko sat up, taking your hand to help you gather your discarded robes. There was no desperate scramble at all, he helped you drape the heavy silk back over your shoulders, his fingers taking their time to tie the intricate waist sashes for you. You returned the favor, leaning in to replace the golden flame coronet into his topknot and smoothing down the structured collar of his coat.

As your fingers touched his tunic, you looked up into his eyes and double tapped the flame crest embroidered on his collar.

Zuko raised his eyebrow.

“What’s that?”

“Our signal,” you whispered, smiling with pride. “Next time we're stuck at one of these long banquets, I’ll find a way to walk past you and double tap your crest just like this. It means you have ten minutes to clear your schedule, find a private room, and wait for me.”

Zuko’s lips curved into a smirk, he reached up to cover your hand with his own, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Consider your signal officially approved.”

Before you could kiss him again, three loud knocks rattled the doors of the study.

“Hey, guys!” Sokka’s booming voice carried right through the thick wood. “Aang’s speech went great, Katara didn’t have to freeze anyone, and I’ve successfully eaten my weight in Fire Nation food! But the delegates are asking where their hosts ran off to!”

You both looked at the door, then back at each other.

“...Unless you two are doing 'official Fire Nation business' in there? Because if you’re making me stall the Earth Kingdom council by myself, I’m drinking the rest of the good plum wine!”

Zuko closed his eyes and let out a sigh.

“We’ll be right out, Sokka!” you called back, trying to keep a laugh out of your voice.

“Take your time! Just make sure your crown isn’t crooked, Zuko!” Sokka teased, his fading footsteps echoing down the hallway alongside his triumphant laughter.

You giggled. As for Zuko, instead of pulling away, he leaned in closer.

“Ready to face the court?” he asked, his thumb trailing a path over the inside of your wrist.

You turned your head, pressing your lips in a touch right to the sharp angle of his jaw.

“Anything for you, Fire Lord.”

Zuko’s breath hitched. His gaze dropped to your mouth.

“Is it too soon for you to tap my crest?”

note: hii!! sorry for going mia 🫶 i’ve been busy as usual, and on top of that i’ve had a lot of family events lately. i wanted to post this as a little thank you for being so patient while i disappeared.

next up will be the too little too late-inspired one shot, which i’m super excited about!! hope you liked this one! thank you so much for reading and for all your support. xx

🏷️my dear taglist (based off your approval in the last whaletail island series - always open!xx): @highlady0239 @xoxocelestial @eepypupy @maee67 @keropiiko @yeonatingz @magnificentlyrainythunder @solarlovesxyz

[kurokawaia]

Zuko was leaning back against the headboard with a breathless groan, leaving his lips as your fingers threaded through his messy black long hair, your fingers tugging at the strands gently. His attention never strayed from your pretty face, completely focusing on you and on the moment. You were straddling him, sinking down slowly onto his throbbing length with shaky breaths.

You were already on the verge of being overwhelmed, but Zuko's hands shot up from your thighs to your hips, halting you in your movements, causing a shudder to emit from your lips. "Zuko?" you whispered, blinking at him, confused.

"Don't move," he whispers into your ear. "Let me feel all of you." His words alone made your walls tighten around his length immensely, his head dropping to your neck, feeling his cock.

He tilted his head, but his cock twitching inside you made it really hard to focus much on what he was saying. "Fuck," he moans into your neck, almost bordering on a whimper, Zuko's arms circle around your body, one hand slides up your spine, pulling you flush against him until your chest presses to his. Zuko shakily breaths, "Stay still."

Your breath hitched, body trembling as his length pulsed inside you. "W-What? But-"

"Shh." He kissed the corner of your mouth slowly while holding you perfectly still. You don't think you could do this, you're already so overstimulated as it is. 

The stillness was maddening. His cock throbbed inside you with every heartbeat, the stretch so deep and constant it had your body trembling from the effort of holding still. Your nails dug into his shoulders. "Feels so good.... my pretty wife, missed you so much," Zuko murmurs, "just a little longer... promise."

You whined, trying to roll your hips, but his hand immediately pressed down on your waist, pinning you harder against him. "No," he said firmly, and the deep sound of his voice made your body heat up further. 

The minutes dragged, your body shivering from the overwhelming sensation of being filled and denied movement. Zuko kissed along your jaw. "You're shaking," he murmured, nipping lightly at your ear. "So needy."

You whimpered his name, and he finally pulled back enough to look at you, his eyes scanning every inch of your trembling body. "Hold out a little longer," he promised, hands gripping your hips tightly. "And then I'll let you fall apart as much as you want."

Your thighs trembled from holding yourself still, his cock throbbing inside you with every pulse of blood rushing through your veins. The ache was unbearable, and every breath made you whine softly into his chest.

"Zuko... I can't," you whispered with your voice cracking. "Please." You broke with a strained moan of his name, his cock deep inside you, clenching violently around him as your orgasm ripped through you, making your body shake in his lap. The wet sound of your release coating him only spurred him on, making his thrusts sharper.

"Fuck, that's it," he groaned, hips slamming into yours one last time as he spilled hot inside you, grip bruising on your hips. He buried his face in your neck, muffling a rough moan as his cock pulsed, filling you to the brim.

request

[archermind]

I hate the mischaracterisation of Dennis Whitaker.

Dennis Whitaker isn’t a fragile baby. That man is such a secret dom. Friendly and sweet to everyone else. Yet, to you he is authoritative and demanding. In a sense that he knows what he wants.

He’s so domestic and would also do anything for you. Cooking, cleaning, handywork. You don’t even have to lift a finger when he is around. When he isn’t, it painfully frustrates him that you have to ‘get your hands dirty’

He loves bringing you everywhere he is. You both have that kind of love where you are best friends too. Both of you are suckers for a routine. You listen to all his farm stories and watch multiple animal documentaries together. Multiple exchanged baby animal TikToks.

“Awe den look at this one!” You squeal

He looks and it’s a small kitten falling into milk crying. He smiles. You frown staring at the screen. You quickly look at him then back to the whining kitten. “Kind of looks like you! I’m sending this to Trin”

His coworkers adore you and always want you around for work parties and get togethers. You constantly hear new stories of Dennis on shift. You smile knowing you have the most perfect and caring boyfriend.

Dennis Whitaker is a munch. He loves going down on you. Kissing your stomach and trailing love bites up your inner thighs. His tongue focuses on your clit while he listens to how you react to each lick, suck and nibble he takes. Gently, he circles your clit with his thumb. Pushing his tongue into you and fucking you like that. He loves tasting you.

Often he picks you up and throws you around into any position he wants you in. Making sure to leave gentle kisses on your body and caress your curves. As he wraps his hand around your throat - “sweetheart, you are so pretty”

That midwestern charm brings you to your climax every-time. Dennis Whitaker, your strong dominant farm boy.

Support me

[clawxmoon]

── ⊹ ࣪ ˖ sleepyhead frank

the apartment is quiet except for the steady sound of rain tapping against the windows. it’s one of those rare mornings where everything feels slow enough to breathe, but frank is still dead asleep, stretched across the bed with one arm thrown over your side.

you’ve barely seen him all week. too many nights spent waiting up for the sound of his boots outside the door, too many mornings where his side of the bed had already gone cold before you woke up. now he’s finally here, and somehow he’s sleeping through the whole day.

you brush your fingers through the short hair at the back of his neck.

nothing.

“frank,” you mumble, nudging his shoulder. “c’mon.”

all you get is a low, annoyed grunt as he buries his face deeper into the pillow. you smile to yourself. “you’re ignoring me.”

“m’not,” he mutters, voice rough with sleep. “you’re just… talkin’ too much.”

“I missed you.”

he doesn’t answer right away. instead he blindly reaches for you, finds your wrist, and tugs until you lose your balance and land against his chest with a laugh. one heavy arm wraps around your waist immediately, holding you there like you’re not going anywhere.

“frank,” you complain, even though you’re smiling. “I was trying to wake you up.”

“bad idea.”

“it’s noon.”

“don’t care.”

his eyes stay stubbornly shut, brows pinched together in that little frown he somehow wears even while sleeping. you poke his cheek.

“you’re grumpy.”

"shut up.”

the words would sound harsh from anyone else, but they’re followed by the softest kiss pressed against the top of your head without him ever opening his eyes. you melt against him.

after another quiet minute, you whisper, “I really missed you.”

this time he sighs, the kind that seems to leave every ounce of tension behind.

“I know, baby,” he murmurs. “missed you too.”

his hand lazily rubs circles against your back before settling there, warm and steady. within minutes his breathing evens out again, already drifting back to sleep. you stay exactly where you are, tangled up in his arms, deciding the day can wait too. for once, you have him home, and that’s enough.

[vensianbae]

aang… thinking ab writing… his struggle with his vow of celibacy through his interactions with you. his monkhood being one of the last few connections he has to the air nomads— yet you’re always in his orbit, to his unfortunate demise...

he prays for strength when he's able, but prayers only work if he wills it.

[rubyys-domain]

[CHAPTER FIFTEEN]

when FIRELORD ZUKO takes a liking to AVATAR AANG'S mysterious new BRIDE.

TORN BETWEEN TWO ROADS ! — aang x reader x zuko

PLOT. republic city is finally at peace, and for once, katara allows herself to hope—maybe now, after everything, she and aang can finally become something real. but when aang returns after eight months, he isn’t alone. he comes back with you at his side, introducing you as his wife. suspicious yet helpless, his friends do their best to welcome you, even as nothing about this sudden marriage makes sense. but while everyone else keeps their distance, one person doesn’t. and perhaps Zuko gets a little too comfortable with the avatar’s new wife.

CHARACTERS. AANG and ZUKO.

CHAPTER WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, blood, mentions of premeditated murder, angst, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

(please check the story masterlist for the story warnings.)

WC. 4.3k

masterlist : story masterlist

chapter fourteen

art creds :: chamiii07, ilameys on x

a/n: i'm back for aang but this is a zuko chapter for sureee.

The chamber remained steeped in silence long after the minister had spoken the name aloud. No one seemed eager to continue, each councilor occupied by thoughts of what such an accusation might truly mean should it prove correct. 

Zuko understood their unease. 

The Shinu bloodline had lingered at the edges of Fire Nation history for generations, never quite disappearing, never possessing enough influence to become a genuine threat, yet never fading quietly into obscurity either.

Their resentment had survived centuries, but their claim had not.

Following the reign of Fire Lord Zoryu, the throne had passed permanently into his family's bloodline, while the Shinu clan had publicly renounced any further challenge and sworn fealty to his ancestor. 

It should have ended there. History, however, always possessed an unfortunate habit of refusing to remain buried.

Every generation seemed to produce another descendant convinced an injustice had been committed, long before they were even born. Most grumbled from the safety of their estates, content to pass their bitterness down to their children in stories they fiercely whispered over dinner tables. 

And even though a handful had attempted something more ambitious, none had ever managed to become anything more than a passing inconvenience.

But now, if the council's suspicions proved true, this would no longer be the work of a disgruntled noble house clinging to forgotten pride.

It would be treason.

"I hear you all. But we are still discussing suspicion rather than fact." Zuko spoke at last, his fingers remaining loosely intertwined before him, 

"My father remained my primary suspect only this morning because of the emberroot capsules. But now, all signs point to Shinu. Nonetheless, I would need evidence of it."

Several heads nodded.

The attack had been too coordinated to dismiss as ordinary banditry, and no one possessed greater motive to destabilize Zuko's reign than the man imprisoned beneath his own palace. 

"I questioned him myself," Zuko continued, his voice even. "He denied receiving visitors or maintaining contact with anyone beyond those assigned to guard his cell."

One of the councilors frowned.

"And you believed him, My Lord?"

Zuko did not answer immediately.

"I do not trust my father," he admitted.

His eyes drifted briefly across the chamber. "But I cannot be blinded by mistrust or rage when it comes to this."

The distinction settled quietly among those gathered.

"Ozai has lied to me countless times throughout my life." A bitter smile touched his mouth, disappearing almost as quickly as it came. 

"I know what that looks like. This time..." Zuko exhaled slowly. "I do not believe he was."

Several ministers exchanged uncertain glances.

Zuko straightened.

"Like I said, what we require now is evidence."

Before anyone could respond, the heavy doors to the throne room opened once more. A palace guard entered, bowing deeply before speaking.

"My lord."

Zuko looked toward him immediately.

"The surviving assailants have regained consciousness. The physicians report the effects of the sleeping incense have finally worn off."

A murmur rippled through the council.

It had taken nearly an entire day.

Zuko's expression hardened almost imperceptibly.

"Good."

The single word carried enough resolve that every councilor understood the meeting had reached its end.

"It seems, we shall have our answers sooner than expected." he said, looking once more around the chamber.

The councilors rose together, bowing respectfully before gathering their documents and quietly excusing themselves from the council room. 

Zuko stepped away from the council table, adjusting the sleeves of his robes before making for the great doors. Beside him, Iroh rose without a word, falling into step with his nephew.

The prison lay buried beneath the palace, far below the warmth and light of the royal residence, where the sounds of reconstruction still echoed faintly through its corridors. 

The air remained damp and unmoving, the narrow passage illuminated only by wavering torchlight that cast long shadows across the iron bars lining either side of the corridor.

The guards stationed outside the interrogation chamber immediately bowed upon seeing their Fire Lord approach. The captain stepped forward first, producing a heavy ring of keys before fitting one into the iron lock. 

"My Lord," he greeted respectfully, pulling the door open. "The physicians have examined them. The effects of the incense have worn off completely."

"I heard," Zuko replied, his attention already fixed upon the chamber beyond. 

"Are they willing to speak?"

The captain hesitated only briefly before answering. "It would seem so, My Lord."

Zuko inclined his head in acknowledgment and crossed the threshold, Iroh following a measured step behind him while two members of the Royal Guard remained stationed outside the entrance. 

Three prisoners sat chained to the stone floor before them, their wrists secured behind their backs, iron restraints fastening their ankles to thick rings embedded within the ground itself. 

Their injuries had been cleaned, the blood no longer obscuring their faces, yet the bruising left behind from their capture had already begun to darken beneath their skin. 

None of them appeared particularly afraid. There was an unsettling calm about them, the sort belonging to men who had already accepted whatever awaited them, and by the looks of it, they had predicated this.

Zuko regarded them without speaking as he took a seat on the chair kept for him, allowing the weight of his presence to settle over the chamber before finally breaking the silence himself.

"Captain Renshi," he began, his voice even. 

"Fourteen years within the Inner Palace Guard. Promoted after distinguishing yourself during the Eastern Harbour Riots, twice commended for exemplary conduct, and eventually entrusted with command over the residential watch." 

His attention shifted toward the man seated beside him. 

"Daiken. seven years serving in the Western Provincial Army before transferring into the Royal Palace Guard two years ago." 

Finally, he looked toward the youngest among them, whose features appeared almost misplaced within a prison cell. 

"Kaito. Assigned to the eastern residential wing scarcely a year ago."

Not one of them acknowledged their names.

"You each served this palace faithfully," Zuko continued, neither offended nor surprised by their silence. "You earned promotions through merit. You earned commendations through discipline. More importantly..." 

His voice lowered almost imperceptibly. "...you earned my trust."

A faint smile found the oldest man's lips.

"We did."

Without responding, Zuko withdrew three folded parchments from within his sleeve, unfolding each one with deliberate care before allowing his eyes to pass over their contents one final time. 

The official seals impressed into the documents glimmered beneath the torchlight, fresh wax standing in stark contrast to the faded records copied from decades-old archives.

"Unfortunately, none of the men described within these records ever truly existed." he said quietly.

Something shifted, and it came not from the elder two, whose expressions remained composed, but from the youngest. Kaito's shoulders stiffened ever so slightly before stilling again.

"The Grand Chamberlain has spent the better part of today examining provincial archives," he continued, lifting the first document from the stack. 

"Household petitions, census registries, birth records and family ledgers reaching back nearly four decades." His fingers rested lightly upon the first page before turning it toward them. 

"Captain Renshi. Your household petition records that your surname was changed fifteen years ago."

He laid the parchment aside and lifted another.

"Daiken. Yours was altered eight years ago."

Finally, he unfolded the last.

"And Kaito." His eyes settled upon the youngest once more. "You entered my service under a name that had existed for barely a year."

The chamber fell silent again and this time, Zuko welcomed it.

He watched them carefully, hoping the stillness itself might betray something words would not, any sort of nuance that could speak for itself. 

The eldest remained unmoved. Daiken kept his attention fixed upon the floor. Only Kaito struggled, his composure not yet weathered enough to conceal every passing thought.

Satisfied, Zuko folded the records closed and spoke the single word they had spent years burying beneath forged identities.

"Shinu."

No attempt was made to protest the accusation or dispute the evidence laid before them. Instead, Renshi's smile returned, deeper now than before, carrying neither shame nor fear.

"So..." Zuko murmured, setting the parchments aside. 

"You spent years standing watch outside my family's chambers while carrying another family's loyalty."

"We always stood loyal to you, My Lord."

The answer came without hesitation, and it was spoken with enough conviction that Zuko found himself studying the old man's face more carefully than before.

"Then why change your names?" he asked. "There are others descended from the Shinu bloodline serving throughout my army and within this palace. None found it necessary to conceal who they were."

This time, it was Daiken who answered, lifting his head for the first time since the interrogation had begun.

"Sharing the same blood does not compel us to share the same ideals, My Lord."

Daiken's words lingered between them, carrying none of the bitterness Zuko had expected. It sounded, strangely enough, like a confession long withheld rather than the justification of a traitor. 

Before he could respond, the youngest among them shifted against his restraints, the chains scraping softly across the stone.

"Our clan has always believed we possess a rightful claim to the throne," Kaito said, his voice lacking the practiced restraint of the older two. 

He looked scarcely old enough to wear the palace uniform he had hidden beneath, and now that Zuko studied him without the helmet and armor, there remained something unmistakably youthful about him that the prison cell only emphasized. 

"But our previous lord...he did not believe reclaiming it required murdering children."

Daiken closed his eyes briefly.

"Kaito."

"No." The boy shook his head. "He should know. You said so yourself."

Daiken sighed, before inclining his head to meet Zuko's eyes, taking over for the younger man as he spoke.

"When Fire Lord Ozai still ruled, many within our clan believed your family had stolen what was once ours."

"I had been sent amongst many in hopes to find leverage and overthrow Ozai." Renshi added.

"But even after the Avatar prevailed and Ozai fell, they still wanted the throne returned, but our lord believed that grievance belonged with Ozai—not with his banished son." 

Daiken swallowed before continuing, speaking with the conviction of someone repeating stories passed down since childhood. 

"You were only sixteen. You had just reclaimed you birthright, your home, and your honor. You understood what it meant to have something rightfully yours taken away. He believed that, perhaps more than anyone, you would understand us."

Silence settled over the chamber once again.

"It was never his intention to overthrow you by force," Kaito continued more quietly. "He wished to approach you lawfully. There were discussions... of a marriage alliance. His daughter was to be offered to you, uniting both bloodlines so neither claim would need be surrendered."

Zuko's brows drew together.

"A marriage alliance?"

Renshi inclined his head.

"It was the most peaceful solution the Shinu had considered in generations, My Lord."

"And what became of it?"

"The clan lord and his wife died before the proposal could ever reach the palace."

"Poison."

The single word escaped Daiken with unmistakable resentment.

"Their eldest son inherited leadership before he was prepared for it."

"And he did not share his father's views," Zuko concluded.

"That is correct." It was Renshi who answered this time, the weariness in his voice betraying years far heavier than the chains around his wrists.

"He believed compromise to be weakness. Where his father sought reconciliation, the young master desired restitution."

Zuko observed the three men quietly.

"And?"

Renshi hesitated for the first time since the interrogation had begun.

"He had grown resentful for something that happened in the past."

The chamber seemed to grow colder.

Zuko's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

"I had already spent years inside this palace. When Your Majesty ascended the throne, Daiken entered the Royal Guard not long afterward. The new lord believed youth and uncertainty would make your reign brief."

A faint smile touched Iroh's lips.

"He misjudged my nephew."

"He did." Renshi offered something almost resembling respect.

"Each passing year made it more difficult to convince the people you were unfit to rule. You governed fairly. The Avatar stood beside you. General Iroh returned. The support you earned through your own actions became stronger than any claim our bloodline could make."

He looked toward Kaito then, something pained entering his expression.

"And so...my youngest was sent."

Only now did Zuko truly study the boy.

He had assumed him to be eighteen, perhaps nineteen at most.

"You look younger than your records suggested."

"Because they lied, Kaito has seen only fourteen summers." Renshi answered quietly and the admission struck the chamber harder than any confession thus far.

Zuko's eyes flickered back toward the boy.

"Fourteen."

"He was chosen because he had grown tall enough to pass for older," Daiken said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. "Our lord no longer trusted my father completely. He believed Father's loyalty had begun to... shift."

Zuko's attention drifted slowly from Daiken to the youngest prisoner before returning to the old captain.

"...Father."

The single word lingered in the chamber.

Realization settled over his features as he studied them again, this time with eyes no longer searching for traitors, but for resemblance. The lines around Daiken's mouth mirrored Renshi's, while Kaito carried the same sharp jaw despite his youth, and suddenly the similarities that had gone unnoticed became impossible to ignore.

"I see."

He folded the parchments in his hand and slipped them back into his sleeve.

"They are your sons."

Renshi inclined his head without hesitation.

Zuko's thoughts returned to the previous night's battle, replaying the final moments before the three men had supposedly succumbed to the emberroot poison. Something about it had unsettled him then. 

Now, standing before them with the truth of their identities laid bare, the memory sharpened.

"When my guards surrounded you..." he began slowly, studying each of their reactions, "...none of you bit into your emberroot capsules."

Daiken's eyes flickered upward.

"You all raised your hands to your mouths." Zuko took a measured step closer. 

"You collapsed exactly as every trained assassin is expected to." His voice lowered slightly. "Yet when the physician examined your bodies this morning, he found the capsules barely torn."

His eyes settled upon Renshi.

"You wanted us to believe you had taken them."

The old captain held his gaze for several long moments before giving the smallest nod.

"We did."

"...Why?"

"There were too many eyes upon us."

Renshi shifted against the iron restraints, the chains scraping softly across the stone beneath him before he continued.

"Yesterday's attack revealed something we had not anticipated. We no longer knew who among your guards remained loyal to you...and who remained loyal to the Shinu."

His eyes drifted briefly toward his two sons before returning to Zuko.

"Had we bitten down upon those capsules then and there, whatever truth we carried would have died alongside us."

The chamber fell quiet again.

Even Iroh, who until now had remained content to observe, regarded the old captain with renewed interest.

"You wanted to speak with me," Zuko said, more statement than question.

Renshi nodded.

"Yes, My Lord."

"...Why?"

For the first time since the interrogation had begun, the old man's composure seemed to falter. His shoulders lowered ever so slightly when he finally spoke again.

"...Because we seek asylum."

The words landed with enough force that even the chains seemed to fall silent.

Daiken lowered his head.

Kaito squeezed his eyes shut.

Across the chamber, Iroh looked at the three of them in open surprise, while the Grand Chamberlain instinctively straightened where he stood.

Zuko frowned.

"...Asylum?"

Disbelief crept into his voice before he could suppress it.

"In your own nation?"

"Yes, My Lord."

Renshi bowed his head.

Renshi's shoulders sagged beneath the weight of years that suddenly seemed far heavier than before.

"My eldest son has already lived the life our lord demanded of him." He looked toward Kaito, whose face remained stubbornly lifted despite the fear beginning to show beneath it. 

"I will not condemn my youngest to the same fate."

Zuko regarded the family in silence, the request hanging between them with all the weight of treason.

"Then explain everything," he said at last, his voice measured once more. "Leave nothing out, and I shall consider your request."

"You said something happened in the past which made you lord resentful." Zuko remained seated, though there was a quiet sharpness beneath his voice now that had not existed before. 

"What happened?"

Renshi drew a slow breath, his weathered features hardening with memories that clearly belonged to another lifetime. 

"It was years ago, before Fire Lord Ozai was dethroned. Our former lord was still alive then, and although many within the Shinu bloodline wished to reclaim what they believed belonged to them, he refused to begin a civil war when the Avatar had been declared to have returned."

"The young master thought differently," Daiken continued, speaking where his father left off. 

"He and several boys close to his age grew impatient. They believed that if they struck first, the rest of the clan would rally behind them."

Renshi lowered his eyes.

"They chose the wrong target."

"The Princess," Daiken muttered bitterly.

"Azula?" Zuko questioned and they nod in agreement.

"They attempted to ambush her while she travelled through the capital. Seven against one." His expression remained unreadable, though disappointment lingered beneath every word. "According to the young master's companions, the fight barely lasted."

No one in the chamber found that difficult to believe.

"They said she defeated them effortlessly," Kaito continued, unable to hide the resentment in his voice. "When it was over, she didn't imprison them...she laughed."

Renshi looked toward Zuko.

"She asked him how the Shinu still believed themselves worthy of the throne after generations spent accomplishing nothing." A faint sigh escaped him. "The young master answered that our bloodline possessed more right than a family of usurpers ever would."

"And she?"

"She showed him exactly why words alone never win kingdoms."

His restrained hands curled into fists.

"She told him that if he could not defeat a princess his own age, then neither he nor his weak father had any right to dream of standing before Fire Lord Ozai. She said the Shinu had become a family that spoke only of what once belonged to them because they lacked the strength to claim anything themselves."

The chamber fell silent.

"It humiliated him," Daiken admitted quietly. "Far more than the beating itself."

"And when our lord and his wife died," Renshi continued, "the young master inherited more than their title. He inherited that humiliation as well."

"The hatred only grew," Kaito whispered.

Zuko listened without interruption, though a tired breath eventually escaped him despite himself. 

Even confined within an asylum, even years removed from power, his sister's shadow seemed determined to linger over every conflict that crossed his path.

"So because my sister humiliated your leader over a decade ago," he said at length, pushing himself slowly to his feet, "he has chosen to wage war against the Fire Nation?"

"No, My Lord—"

"I assure you," Zuko interrupted, unable to keep the frustration from entering his voice

"I have suffered considerably more by her hand than he ever did." He looked down upon the three of them, disappointment replacing irritation almost immediately. 

"If bruised pride alone has led him to this, then he has mistaken revenge for justice. Tell him that attacking his Fire Lord remains treason regardless of how righteous he believes himself."

Renshi bowed his head deeply.

"We cannot tell him anything."

The answer was so quiet that it almost disappeared beneath the crackling torches.

"The fact that we still live is reason enough for our execution. We have already failed him once. Speaking with you only ensures we have failed him twice."

He turned slightly toward Kaito, and the old captain resembled nothing more than a father looking upon his youngest child.

"I ask for nothing for myself," he said. "Nor for my eldest son. We knowingly deceived you and willingly accept whatever punishment My Lord deems appropriate."

His voice faltered.

"I ask only for safe passage for my youngest."

Zuko's eyes settled upon Kaito once more.

Now that the truth had been spoken aloud, it became impossible not to notice what had escaped him before. The boy's height had misled him entirely, lending him years he did not possess, yet the youthful softness that remained around his face now seemed painfully obvious.

"You truly are fourteen?"

Renshi nodded.

Fourteen.

Someone had accepted forged records, someone had approved his enlistment.

Someone inside the palace had knowingly placed a child within the Royal Guard.

Zuko felt an uncomfortable knot settle within his chest. Until now, he had believed this conspiracy belonged outside his walls. Now it seemed equally possible that it had begun within them.

"I have already said I shall consider your request," he replied after a long silence, forcing his attention back toward the matter at hand. "Whether I grant it depends entirely upon what you tell me next."

Renshi inclined his head.

"You may ask whatever you wish."

Zuko remained standing.

"Yesterday's attack." His voice had become measured once again. "Did your leader intend to assassinate me? Was the plan to seize the throne by killing the Fire Lord and marching into the palace while confusion reigned?"

"No, My Lord."

"Then what?" Zuko demanded. "The armory was breached. My cannons were turned against my own walls. Fire benders stormed my palace from every direction." His brows drew together. "If not my life, then what exactly was your leader hoping to accomplish?"

Renshi lowered his eyes.

"It was never Your Majesty he wished to kill."

Zuko frowned.

"Our orders were to kill the Avatar's wife."

The words seemed to strip every sound from the room. Zuko stood straighter, turning his head slightly to meet his uncle's eyes.

Iroh understood what he wished, and turned to one of the guards, whispering orders to send more security to guard your chambers.

Turning back, Zuko questions him. "...Why?"

"What better way," Renshi answered quietly, "to strip the Fire Lord of the Avatar's trust than by ensuring his wife died under your protection?"

Zuko's expression hardened.

"He would stoop so low as to murder an innocent woman?" The disbelief in his voice gave way to anger. 

"He sounds too shortsighted to devise something so calculated."

Renshi hesitated.

Then, after a long silence, he spoke a single name.

The colour drained from Zuko's face.

His chair scraped violently across the stone as he surged to his feet, the force sending it crashing onto its side behind him. Even the guards stationed near the doorway looked toward one another in alarm, startled by a reaction none of them had ever witnessed from their Fire Lord.

"...What?"

The question escaped him almost involuntarily.

"What did you just say?"

Zuko scarcely remembered crossing the distance from the prison to the residential wing. Palace servants hurried out of his path the moment they caught sight of him, bowing in startled confusion while he passed without acknowledgment, every thought consumed by the conversation he had just left behind. 

The corridors seemed unnaturally quiet, and the silence only sharpened the unease creeping beneath his skin until he finally reached the chambers that had been prepared for you after the attack.

He stopped abruptly, the hem of his robes sweeping around his ankles. The two guards who should have been stationed outside your door were nowhere to be seen even after Iroh ordered for them to be here mere minutes ago.

A chill settled heavily within his chest.

His hand rose to the door, knocking firmly against the polished wood as he called your name, waiting for your answer, but nothing came from within. 

The silence stretched longer, only making him more uncomfortable, and he knocked again, harder this time, concern slipping into his voice before he could restrain it. 

A few agonizing moments passed, hands on the bar ready to barge in, before your timid voice finally reached him through the door.

"...C-come in."

His shoulders loosened with relief, though only slightly. Something in your voice sounded wrong. It was quiet, strained, carrying a tremor that made every instinct within him tighten once more.

The door opened slowly beneath his hand.

The room was dim, and you stood near the open window, the evening breeze stirring the curtains as you stood with your back partially turned toward him, the pale silk robes draped over your shoulders. 

They were among the lighter garments he had ordered prepared for you only that morning, and for the briefest instant he found himself absurdly relieved to see you wearing them.

Then you turned.

A streak of crimson ran from your hairline, cutting through the side of your face before disappearing beneath your jaw. Fresh blood continued to trickle from the wound upon your forehead, staining the ivory silk in scattered drops, while your lips trembled so violently you seemed unable to steady your breathing.

Zuko crossed the room almost immediately, alarm replacing every other thought.

"What happened?" he demanded, his voice stripped of every formality. "You're bleeding—"

The curtains beside the window shifted.

It was the smallest movement, barely enough to stir the corner of his vision, yet it halted him mid-step.

Before he could react, a figure emerged from behind the heavy crimson drapes with effortless composure, one arm slipping around your shoulders while the other raised a polished dagger that settled against your throat. 

The blade caught the lantern light in a cold silver line, and you froze beneath it, your entire body trembling so violently that the knife quivered against your skin.

Zuko stopped where he stood. Every muscle in his body locked as the woman behind you smiled.

Her golden eyes, bright with cruel amusement, met his across the room.

"Zuzu, I didn't even recognize your voice."

His blood ran cold.

"...Azula."

The name escaped him in scarcely more than a whisper.

His worst fear had found its way home.

chapter sixteen coming soon...

a/n: i had a conversation with my brother yesterday about atla, and he said "aang is prob the weakest avatar" and i genuinely started tweaking.

btw, is there something called writing dysmorphia? i feel like my writing seems to be getting so dry, but it feels crowded at the same time?

i will be answering my inbox soon, as well as the comments on the previous chapter!

[taglist open] (please mention under the latest chapter or the story masterlist)

masterlist

[rubyys-domain]

taglist [3/4]:

@justlindsey @frawstedbunni @awkwardnesshabitat @weirdlyraggedwatcher @anongirl007

@fancypeacepersona @stxrrielle @strawbrry-kisses @s3afs @icarusgloom

@littlefairybrooke @s4rangh0e @missgirlypoppp @berry-cotttage @rambinru

@gangdiscipleklla @talilosha @jayszz @1uvvmi @peachysaki116

@annie-johns @tronnily @gabriahhenry-blog @mando-modep @httpswilloww

@datfangirl @qb48xnap101nr @megumuro @moonlightttfae @sullybrothersmate

@buheheh @littlemochix17 @mcufan2031 @pandakchuu @capsi-cuminme

@rizecia17 @lonelyhourpoetry @patita-n @iwaizumehajime27athletictrainer @kenjisfirstcow

@weepingwillowws @violentrayof-sunshine @stardust0709 @berriblissful @barbielatt

@thecrazyone2007 @mushythemushroom04 @xochyw @idkmyuser06 @juicedpeach

[thisiscareless]

i’ll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands).

— adult zuko x reader. a day at the caldera when it rains, royal robes entirely optional. | wc: 602

cw: smut, established marriage, praise, light restraint, neck handling. mdni.

Whoever dared to approach the royal apartments on a day like this would have to be exceptionally foolish, well aware of the particular reverence the Fire Lord and Fire Lady held for the rain.

Contrary to what outsiders might expect, storms made their mornings begin earlier, not later. Before the first cracks of thunder, dispatches were finalized, council sessions postponed, and messenger doves released with orders clearing the afternoon calendar. Once the deluge settled over the caldera… slick roads, poor visibility, and the volatile risk of lightning made unnecessary travel a reckless gamble. Conveniently, no one in the Capital dared to question the rulers’ insistence on safety.

The western wall of their private sitting room opened into a grand arched window, its deep stone recess fitted with a broad cushioned window seat and scarlet pillows. The entire capital spread beneath them.

That hard won privacy allowed Zuko to find his wife exactly where he knew she’d be: supervising the storm, drawing her feet onto the cushioned bench, and sitting resting into the pillows.

Oh, how the Fire Lord enjoyed that view. But he loved it infinitely more when those royal robes were long gone, scattered across the floor, and you were on all fours on the spacious window seat, facing the glass. He slid right into you after only a few testing strokes. He loved the rhythmic, driving heat of it, just as he was doing now: one hand planted firmly on the padded seat to anchor his weight, the other gripping your waist.

The impact of your hips against his lower abs grew louder and quicker in a breathless cadence that left you no choice but to bend lower, your chest sinking into the fabrics beneath you.

“Every time,” he murmured. He moved his hand from your waist to press at the back of your neck, keeping you steady, holding you captive to the his thrusts. “Every single time, I think we’re actually going to just sit here and watch the rain… And every time, you prove me wrong.”

Before you could replace one of your whines with a coherent sentence, his pace changed. He slowed, and thrusted deep, filling you to the brim twice over before pulling his upper body down to press a kiss grazing your shoulder blade. His hands snuck beneath you, mapping the curve of your breasts with a lethal combination of caresses and grips you’d gladly take the credit for teaching him.

“More…” you whispered, moving your hips back against him in desperate friction.

He moaned into tour skin, and braced his weight to lift himself.

“Mm… something’s missing,” he answered, holding still for a moment, letting you ache around him.

“I need more, please, Zuko—”

Lightning struck in the distance, illuminating the glass.

“You always do,” he rumbled. In one movement, he turned you around, your back flat against the crimson cushions. He pulled you flush to the edge, stepping between your parted legs. “But you aren't looking at me. I need you to look at me…”

Without giving you a chance to catch your breath, he captured your mouth while your hands flew to your own chest. He allowed you a single, stolen gasp of air before he buried himself inside you again, forcing your head back against the silk pillows.

“There you are…”, he gasped out.

He began to move again, ragged whines falling from his lips right next to your ear with no pressure to stop, your hands finding their anchor around his forearms as the storm raged outside.

note: just a little something bc i had some free time.:-) xx

🏷️my dear taglist (always open!xx): @xoxocelestial @eepypupy @maee67 @keropiiko @yeonatingz @magnificentlyrainythunder @highlady0239

[flimsily-flimsy]

JASON TODD FIC RECOMMENDATIONS

I don’t know if these are all too well known or if I’m just too obsessed with the Jason Todd x reader search and tag, but these are my personal favourites (I just wanted an excuse to compliment these amazing writers) :>

YOU DIE LAUGHING - @njghtiee = In general she is such a good writer but this fic in particular has THE MOST DELICIOUS ANGST it’s just so good (it also has a part 2 which is just as amazing)

JASON TODD BLURB - @cherryvvave = It’s only a blurb and more specific to a reader who crochets but he’s such a cutie in this :)

Out of the Bag - @indulgentdaydream = This just itches my brain in such a nice way, it’s angsty but I am so in love with it (and with all her writing too)

will you hold me instead, and tell me that it's over now? - @julymusings = HE’S SUCH A LOVERBOY IN THIS i just melted when i first read it, it’s so cute

The Batboys When They Miss You - @lilmarshie = This is a personal favourite headcanon of mine but I could and would spend ages just scrolling through their whole blog

Jason Todd ramble :> - @sugugori = Does this even need an explanation? She writes Jason so soft and so well, I’M OBSESSEDDD

Jason is the type of boyfriend - @moviecritc = I’m kinda obsessed with her whole blog, but this is the first one of hers I saw and made me fall in love

La Vie en Rose - @mostly-imagines = Just look at her masterlist for other amazing works, but I love all of their writing and 4 in 1s and such, it’s so good

IN EVERY UNIVERSE - @pluvoia = LITERALLY THE INSPIRATION FOR MY FIRST BLURB, it’s just so adorable and you can feel the love in this one, I definitely recommend part 1.5 too

For You - @soulsforsales = I don’t know how many times I’m going to say fics are cute in this list, but this fic just melts my heart, I love it (also thank you to them for reblogging so many amazing fics, I swear I find so many through them lol)

Thinkin about you - @amnxp = More angst!! Another one I just ate up, IT’S SO GOOD and it really gets the emotions across

That’s All It Took? - @fluentmoviequoter = Most recent one on here so I can recall how my eyes were GLUED to my phone while I read this, it’s great

SHEEP - @moratorya = Does handle heavy themes and is genuinely gut-wrenching but it’s so gripping and just fantastically written

Mistletoe Memories - @froggibus = It was genuinely difficult to decide which of her fics to choose to put here, she is soso talented

in your hands - @sanguineterrain = I’ll admit that I found this from another recommendation but it’s so angsty but fluffy and I love it, I couldn’t not include it

Him taking care of you - @dhazefawn = They write so cute that I’m jealous of the kind of love he has with reader :>

(Part 2!!)

[literary-dolly]

communication is key

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k warnings: sexual humour, implied sexual content (non-explicit), mention of insecurities

Jason accidentally leaves a comm behind in your apartment - it would be rude not to have a listen, right?

Part II

It’s safe to say your evening is currently painfully boring.

Make no mistake, scrolling through Netflix is a treasured pastime most days. Somehow, it just wasn’t scratching the itch alone on a Friday night, disappointed and aching for the presence your boyfriend.

Jason had left for patrol roughly an hour ago. It was supposed to be your night together – both of you had made sure to make time in the calendar to go on a long overdue date. Between your work and Jason’s late-night patrols (which often left him fast asleep until at least midday), it was difficult to orchestrate time specifically for the two of you. Yes, you ate dinner together most evenings, often casually basked in each other’s company as you tinkered around your shared apartment, but it wasn’t the same as date night.

Jason had been more than a little pissed when he’d gotten a phone call from Dick asking him to help with the patrol this evening, face falling as soon as the caller ID lit up his phone. Bruce had to rush out of town, he’d claimed, and they needed the extra manpower after a recent Arkham outbreak. You’d known the moment Jason’s shoulders sagged that he would go. It was in his nature as a vigilante. Presenting him with the opportunity to save some poor, unfortunate Gothamites was like dangling a bone in front of a dog and not expecting it to bite.

You tried not to let it sting. When Jason had confessed to you about his alter-ego, you’d known that there would be certain sacrifices in your relationship most would not have to contend with. You doubted there were many people who were jealous of the amount of time their boyfriend spent with the Penguin. It was an unconventional set-up by most standards, but the two of you made it work. It was only on the odd occasion that you truly felt the impact of Jason’s ‘career path’.

The silence in the kitchen had been deafening when he’d hung up the phone. It’s not that you were angry with Jason, or Dick, or anyone for that matter. You were just disappointed. You’d kept your mouth clamped shut as best you could out of fear that if it opened, words would trickle out in the heat of the moment you’d come to regret later on. Clearly, your silence was statement enough, because Jason had only pressed a kiss into your hair with a quiet promise to make it up to you before retreating into the bedroom to get ready for the long night ahead of him. He knew better than to press the issue.

As a result, you were perched on the couch exactly where Jason had left you. The absence of any plans you’d had for the evening left you restless, unable to settle into any particular task. And fucking hell you were bored.

It's just as you go to retreat into the bedroom to try and sleep off your lingering frustrations that you hear the crackling from the bookshelf tucked away in the corner, a short static sound that cuts through the silence of the apartment. It takes a few seconds for you to spot it, the tiny earpiece shoved behind an old, tattered paperback. Jason had been working on his suit earlier in the week, and you’d overheard his curt conversation with Bruce on the phone about needing a new set after breaking his old ones.

Not so broken, clearly.

Your curiosity is piqued enough to venture over to the shelf, plucking the tiny object up carefully to avoid breaking it any further. You’d seen Jason tinker with them before, most likely to scramble the tracking features that came with most of the tech Bruce had given him in recent years. You can hear the muted mumble of conversation, not clear enough to make out any distinct words but enough to know that there was a lengthy talk being had on the line.

It’s not your proudest moment as you slot it into your ear, and definitely, most likely, a severe invasion of privacy. Guilt twangs in the pit of your stomach, but hey – if Jason’s allowed to follow you home from the bodega to make sure you don’t get mugged in the precious fifteen seconds it takes, you can listen to a few minutes of radio chatter, right? You’re just looking out for him. Want to be close to him.

Yeah, right.

It’s uncomfortable, designed to be completely moulded to Jason, and there’s a persistent hum that won’t seem to fade (definitely a little broken) but the voices come to life almost instantly.

“I’m just saying, Empire Strikes Back is by far the superior film, and I won’t hear otherwise.”

“Must you fill our ears with such incessant chatter, Drake.”

“Codenames. And I don’t know, Robin, he’s kind of cooking.”

You recognise the final voice as Dick – the only member of Jason’s family you’d had the pleasure of meeting despite your nearing year-long relationship. It hadn’t been on purpose, naturally, Dick had spotted the pair of you in the window of a coffee shop and rushed over to corner Jason before he could formulate an escape plan that didn’t involve blowing up your favourite date spot. Jason had honest-to-god hissed when he saw his brother approach, and for a split second you were certain he was going to throw his tea over him.

In spite of Jason’s grumbling, you’d taken an instant liking to the elder. He was charismatic, exuberant and kind, and quite frankly it was hard not to bask in the warmth of his presence. As soon as he’d left, however, Jason had sworn that you were never going to meet the rest of his family if he could help it – and thus far he’d kept his promise.

Still, you were aware of the players on the board from the pieces you’d gathered in time spent with your boyfriend. The second voice, you had correctly identified, was Damian – or the Demon Brat as Jason often took to calling him when he came up. You have to stifle a laugh at his bravado. Much like the picture your mind had painted, the kid definitely had an aura about him.

That just left Tim, the first voice. Jason mentioned him the least of all of his siblings, and you found that when his name came up Jason seemed to shrink into himself somewhat, sometimes fading away, seemingly lost in memories he couldn’t quite escape. You knew that Jason had a troubled relationship with most of his family members at one point or another, having been spared the specifics, but your gut told you that there was something about his relationship with Tim that cut a tad deeper than the rest.

It was strange, to finally put voices to names. You can’t help the small smile that curves on your lips.

“Right, fess up, who taught Nightwing about ‘let him cook’,” A female voice rings out.

You filter through your previous conversations with Jason as you try to figure out who it could belong to, rapidly considering the vague descriptions he’d given you of Steph, Cass and Babs. It doesn’t take you long to decide it’s most likely Stephanie.

“Hey – could I not have just, I don’t know, learned about it myself?”

“Not likely, they probably didn’t have the internet until you were, what? Forty?”

“Tough talk coming from a girl who gave The Last Jedi five stars on Letterboxd.”

“You did what?”

“I must admit, Spoiler, that is disappointing.”

“Do any of you ever shut the fuck up?”

Your body thrums at the last one, and a breath tears its way out of your throat. Jason. It throws you off balance to hear him so brusk, a fire in his words that he rarely brought to the conversations you had - in your experience, it was typically reserved for when he stubbed a toe or let the pasta boil over on the stove. His voice sounds somewhat thick, and your stomach churns at the idea that your demeanour from earlier had rattled him so deeply.

You were well acquainted with Jason’s compulsion to work; he was completely and utterly addicted to it. So much so, that you’d failed to consider just how disappointed he might feel about missing your date too.

As if on cue, Tim’s voice rings out, “Aww, Hood’s upset because he was going to wine and dine his girlfriend tonight.”

“Red Robin…”

“I was being polite the first time, now I’m telling you. Shut the fuck up.”

The statement throws you a little, hearing Jason’s family discuss your relationship as though it were a common topic. The scraps of information Jason had given you about them were so few and far in between that you could only assume he had been the same on the other side of it. Quickly, you realise, that he probably had been – you could hazard a guess coming from a family of famed detectives didn’t exactly make it easy to keep secrets.

“I refuse to believe that Red Hood has a partner,” Damian’s words are impossibly snide, “Who could possibly want to spend any more time with him than is absolutely necessary?”

You make out a few giggles after that, namely Tim and Steph, who seem to be basking in the concept of making Jason as miserable as possible. It’s Dick that steps in to shh them, chiding Damian with a measured tone that you’re sure could only have developed from years of dealing with this exact situation. The babble continues back and forth for a few minutes, and you can almost feel yourself beginning to sink into sleep as you listen to them bicker, someone occasionally slipping in some useful intel about a warehouse or rogue sighting. 

The line goes quiet when Jason lets out a harsh, “Oh, fuck!”

A pulse of lightning seems to shoot its way down your spine, and it takes more than you thought yourself capable of to not scream down the comm line.

“Hood?”

“Red Hood?”

“Hood, you okay?”

“Hood, status report, now.”

“I’m fine,” Jason bites out, a little bemused if nothing else, “My hip and knee are just stiff. Getting colder outside, ya’ know.”

The silence is deafening for a few seconds, and you can’t claim to know where everyone’s thoughts sink to, but you could guess it was to do with Jason’s sordid history.

That is, until Tim pipes up dryly, “So, what is that, like, rigor mortis?”

“Oh my god.”

“That’s so not okay, dude.”

“Holy shit.”

You wait eagerly in anticipation to hear Jason’s response. You couldn’t claim to know every detail of Jason’s past – it was something the two of you were slowly working on together. He was understandably cagey at the idea of talking about his experiences, so you never pressed, instead allowing him to offer up bits and pieces of information in his more vulnerable moments. In spite of that, you knew that Jason had died. There wasn’t another plausible explanation for the giant Y-scar that stretched its way across his chest. You’d worked for a long time on getting him to feel comfortable enough to be around you without a shirt on, comfortable enough to know you weren’t going to turn tail and run just at the sight. He hadn’t told you how or why – but the look in his eyes when he stared in the mirror for a second too long was enough to let you know it was certainly no fairytale.

Which is why it’s such a surprise when a deep, rumbling laugh filters through the earpiece, and you’re struck with the image of Jason perched on a rooftop somewhere chuckling to himself as he watches over the city. Within seconds there’s an orchestra of maniacal cackles pouring through the comms, and you’re fairly certain that the only one who isn’t laughing is Damian.

“Hood, does your partner know of your death and resurrection?”

Jeez, Damian, way to soften the blow.

Dick quickly jumps in to chastise his brother, sounding increasingly more exasperated with every word, “Robin, you can’t –”

“Yeah, she does,” Jason’s voice is surprisingly earnest, “Don’t think it bothers her, not really.”

Tim and Steph jump in almost immediately to make outrageous kissing noises, crooning Oh, Hood and I love you, Hood and other slightly more inappropriate comments. You’re certain if you looked in the mirror the colour of your cheeks wouldn’t be far off Jason’s helmet.

“Honestly, you two need to stop behaving like I don’t have your exact coordinates,” Jason huffs out, but you can hear the twinge of humour in his words. He’s not angry, not at all, if anything you’d say he was finding it funny.

“Seriously though, Hood,” Steph’s voice is somewhat strained from laughing, “When are you going to introduce us?”

“Never.”

“Come on, man.”

“Dick got to meet her!”

“I would be interested in assessing the capabilities of this civilian.”

“Yeah, well, she’s more than capable.”

Now that has a little more bite to it, and your chest swells with pride at Jason’s defensiveness. You’d always felt a tad insecure about how you compared to the rest of the people in Jason’s life – surrounded by superheroes, metahumans, and some of the most proficient individuals in the world. You were just a civilian, and in your opinion, nothing all that special. But Jason had always made sure that you felt equal, that the differences in what you did outside the walls of your apartment had no bearing on the fact his world started and ended with you.

 “So… does the mask stay on when you get freaky or –”

“Steph, don’t make me come over there, you know I will.”

“Codenames.” Honestly, you can’t help but respect Dick for his seemingly unwavering patience, although you could guess it might be due to the noticeable absence of Batman himself to rein in his children in his place. “Spoiler, we have a child with us.”

“I don’t understand Spoiler. What is getting freaky–”

“Please,” Dick’s begging now.

“Oh, B is gonna have fun with that when he gets home.”

“Pfft, you think B is going to know what getting freaky means?”

“You know that means he’s going to ask us, right?”

“Shit.”

Your brain starts to feel fried just listening to them. And the most obscene part of it all is that you can hear them fighting, subduing local criminals while simultaneously having one of the weirdest conversations you’ve ever been a party to (well, secretly a party to). You have to place the earpiece on the other side of the room and retreat into the bathroom to let out what could be a laugh or a scream – you can’t be sure.

Unsurprisingly, when you slot the earpiece back in again, the conversation has shifted.

You only catch the end of Tim’s words, but it’s enough to send your entire body into a state of shock, “– when the wedding happens.”

“When the wedding happens,” Jason bites out breathlessly, clearly in the middle of some kind of confrontation, “Your sorry ass isn’t going to be fuckin’ invited.”

And the comm line erupts.

“When the wedding happens?”

“WHAT?”

“Guys, fuckin’ hell, I didn’t mean it like –”

“I’m presuming this means you have a ring, yes, Todd?”

If you weren’t already sat, you’re certain your legs would have given way underneath you. The room is spinning, you’re overwhelmed by the feeling of the world shifting on its axis and you can feel your heart vibrating in your throat.

You and Jason had never made any point of talking about marriage. It had come up casually, as it did in the conversations of most couples – but you had never had any particularly serious discussions about the subject. You, for one, had avoided it out of fear of spooking Jason, whom you’d already spent enough time coaxing out of his shell without potentially scaring him back in again. You had no idea that it was something that he was thinking about.

Of course, you wanted to marry him. From the moment he’d asked you to be his girlfriend, you’d known that he was the only option.

“One last time,” Dick’s voice tears you from your thoughts, grating like nails on a chalkboard. It sends a chill through your entire body and for a brief second you can envision what it would be like to be confronted by Nightwing on a bad day. “Codenames. I don’t care if you don’t think anyone is listening –”

“Funny you say that. Someone is listening.”

It’s a woman’s voice. That must be Babs.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Abort. Abort. Abort. Immediately.

If you thought the comm line had exploded before, this was an atomic bomb. It’s a cacophony, instantly. Not the casual chattering over each other of minutes prior, instead it’s angered shouts, concerned whispers and vehement speculations about who it could possibly be.

The last thing you hear when you drop the earpiece into the garbage disposal with a sickening clang is Jason’s concerningly enlightened ‘Oh shit’.

You’ve been lying in bed practicing pretending to be asleep for an hour when Jason finally peels through the bedroom window. It takes everything you can muster to regulate your breathing, steady your heartbeat and lay still enough to feign unconsciousness.

The telltale rustling of Jason pulling off his costume as quietly as possible is enough to make you let out a barely-there sigh of relief. There’s a fleeting sadistic pride that burns in your chest at the thought that you’ve fooled the mighty Red Hood.

“So, where is it?”

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Maybe if you don’t answer, he’ll just lay off –

“I know you’re awake.” You nearly jump up to the ceiling because he says it directly into your ear and you didn’t even hear him move from beside the window. Fucking vigilantes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you borderline whimper, and abruptly realise if you were going to double-down you probably should have done it with a bit more authority.

“Really, sweetheart? That’s what we’re going with.”

You roll over ever so slightly, just enough to pull your face from the pillow. Jason’s eyes are practically glowing in the dark of your bedroom and his face is not even an inch from yours. He’s close enough that you can make out the ever so slight sweaty dampness of his hair, that you could trace the freckles and scars alike that are dotted across his face – you can also make out the unmistakable curve of his lips, upwards ever so slightly at the corner.

“Garbage disposal.” The words come out quicker than you thought was physically possible and could potentially be mistaken for the creaking of a door in a different context given the pitch of them. You’re not sure if you feel like a weight has been lifted off your chest or tied to your foot and subsequently flung into a river.

The silence is painful. Agonising. It’s too dark to completely make out Jason’s expression, his body completely still. You’re not even sure if he’s breathing.

And then he starts to shake, shoulders first, before the rest of his body follows. He collapses onto his side of the bed, jolting the mattress, and the vibrations are enough to confirm your suspicions. He’s laughing his fucking head off.

“You put it in the garbage disposal?” There’s disbelief lacing his words, and his own question only sets him off again. You throw a weak punch at his arm out of fear of him waking the neighbours.

“You’re not mad?” Your disbelief matches his own as you finally flip over to face him, now draped in the moonlight pouring through your bedroom window.

His laughter subdues, and he pauses contemplatively before sighing, “I probably should be. But, no, I’m not. I’d be a liar if I said I wouldn’t do the same fuckin’ thing.”

That’s the only signal you need to traverse the bed at break-neck speed, throwing yourself into Jason’s arms and burying your face into the crook of his neck. Without missing a beat, his arms come around to draw soft patterns up and down your back, and he lets out a relaxed hum of approval.

“I’m sorry about tonight, baby,” he won’t quite look you in the eye as he says it, and you can practically feel the guilt emanating off of him, “I know how much you were looking forward to it. We were looking forward to it.”

“Jay,” you sigh, raking a hand through his hair, “I love you. What you do makes you who you are, if I couldn’t accept that your aggressive vigilantism was going to have to come first sometimes, we wouldn’t be together.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your neck with a soft mumble, “I love you too. Too good f’me.”

“Shut up and go shower,” you giggle, shoving him away, “You stink, pretty boy.”

Jason feigns offense comically, drawing back with a scandalised grin and a shake of his head. You instantly feel the loss as he clambers out of bed, keeping your hands against him for as far as you can reach. There’s a quaint smile on his face as he begins to saunter over to the bathroom. God, you love this man.

“Jay?” You call, just before the bathroom door clicks shut.

“Yeah, princess?”

“I like your family. They seem nice.” You get little more than a grumble in response, and you’re not sure there were any discernible words in there to begin with as he pulls the door to again.

“Oh, and Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“You know that thing Steph said – uh, you know – about the mask?”

You can hear the echo of Jason’s forehead smacking against the doorframe through the wall.

microsoft word giving me italics is like Prometheus stealing fire and giving it to humanity - best believe its a power i'm going to abuse

If you liked it, well, like it - a reblog is always appreciated. If you don't like it, leave me alone.

[uramakimochi]

MIDNIGHT ICE CREAM

Jason Todd x Reader

SUMMARY: You want ice cream and Jason wants to sleep.

WARNINGS: just fluff. Inspired by an old tiktok. Established relationship, use of petnames but no use of Y/n, reader is implied to be female but this piece should be neutral enough for everyone;) Jason lowkey hates you (nah jk he adores you but if someone did this to me i'd do the same honestly).

English is not my first language so feel free to correct me.

"Jay"

"Jay"

Jason muttered something under his breath, but other than that his body remained where it was, lying bare-chested on his stomach along the mattress with his arms under the pillow and one leg bent. He continued to sleep, snoring as well, and you looked at him in surprise.

Unbelievable. You thought.

Jason always slept soundly, but was a light sleeper. A minimal shake on his body from you was enough for him to open his eyes in two seconds, always on the alert. But this time he didn't show the slightest sign of awakening, he was completely abandoned in the world of dreams.

You felt a little guilty that you were trying to wake him up, it must have been a long, hard night for him. But you had a strong urgent need that couldn't wait until tomorrow.

So you promised yourself that you would make him stay in bed sleeping all the following morning, to catch up on his sleep. And placing your hand on his muscular shoulder again, you gave him a couple more shakes.

"Jaay. Come on, wake up, please"

After seconds that seemed endless, you finally heard him take a sharp breath as his body slowly began to move.

"Mmh.. Baby, what is it?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, turning his head on the pillow towards you, keeping his eyes closed.

"I would really like some ice cream, can we go and buy some?" you asked him as if nothing had happened.

At those words your boyfriend slowly opened his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"What...?"

"I thought we still had ice cream in the freezer, but i think you and Roy ate it all and we ran out of it. And i'm really craving some ice cream now, so i'm asking you to come buy it"

Jason rubbed a hand over his eyes to remove the fatigue that was weighing down his eyelids, even more confused by your explanation and tired from the lack of sleep.

"Wait, what are you... Ice cream? Sweetheart what-"

You watched your boyfriend turn away to pick up his cell phone, which was placed on the bedside table. The light from the screen that illuminated blinded him for a few moments and Jason squinted, noticing the time. It was almost one in the morning. Why the hell did you wake him up at almost one in the morning??

"Jesus, i thought something happened" he muttered in a mix of irritation and confusion, putting the phone back down.

Jason loved you madly, without question, but sometimes he just didn't understand you.

"I'm sorry Jay, i didn't mean to bother you" you muttered regretfully.

"'S okay, love" he replied with a sigh. "Why don't we go back to sleep, yeah? Don't think about that damn ice cream"

"But Jayyy"

Oh shit. Now you were even using your pleading voice. And within seconds Jason felt your warm hands resting on his naked back, followed by your face leaning over him, to look at him with puppy eyes.

"I seriously need some ice cream, i can't stop thinking about it" you whined. "I can't go back to sleep, please"

Jason closed his eyes to escape your pleading gaze.

"Baby no. Can we go to bed now, please?" he said sternly, but his tone didn't sound as decisive as usual. He was still tired, too tired.

"But what about ice cream?" you asked.

"It's almost one in the morning, we can't go get ice cream"

"But..."

Jason raised himself on his arms and you were forced to step back. And when you realized that he was changing position to turn around and give you his bare back, you looked at him in shock.

"Are you-"

"Yep" he interrupted you nonchalantly, rubbing his cheek on his pillow and making himself more comfortable. "I'm gonna go back to sleep and i suggest you do the same, because i'm not moving from here"

You pouted with puffy cheeks, even though he couldn't see it.

"Fine. Then it means i'll go alone"

"The supermarket is closed, you know it" he replied.

"The store down the street is open 24 hours a day though" you said then.

"Yeah there's no way in hell i'll let you go out alone at this hour"

"Come with me then"

"No sweetheart"

Jason heard you huff behind him and he let out a yawn, ready to go back to sleep. But suddenly he felt your hands rest on his skin again and with a delicate gesture you made him rotate towards you. Despite the darkness, Jason saw your puppy gaze again as you lay on his body with your hands resting on his broad chest.

"Pretty pleaseee?" you begged, like a child begs for candy from his mother.

Jason couldn't keep his lips from curling up in tenderness and automatically one of his hands went to rest on your hip. That was one of his favorite sights, the kind that made him want to fill your face with kisses (and do something else too) until the next morning.

But NOT in that circumstance!

Jason couldn't afford to fall into your trap! Not today. Nope. For fuck's sake, he was supposed to be the stricter one between the two of you.

So, looking straight into your eyes with the sternest expression he could muster, Jason made a decision.

"We are not getting ice cream"

"I hate you so much, you know that?"

You shamelessly ignored your boyfriend's words with an innocent smile, handing the bored cashier the coins to pay and then taking the packaged ice cream from the counter.

"Thank you very much, have a good night!"

You walked out of the store unwrapping your ice cream and Jason followed you with a prominent pout on his face. Once you finished unwrapping your late night snack, you discarded the paper and began to eat it, immediately biting back a moan at the sweet taste of it on your tongue.

"This is delicious" you turned to Jason, handing him the ice cream. "Do you want some, bub?"

"I just want to sleep" he complained, throwing his head back in (fake) despair.

You leaned in to give him a small, fresh kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"Thanks for coming Jay, i appreciate it. I love you so much"

Jason wrapped his arm around your shoulders to pull you into his body and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"Mh, love you too baby" he murmured against your skin. "But you owe me an ice cream. And a looong nap"

You giggled, nodding without protesting. And while you held your ice cream with one hand, you wrapped your other arm around Jason's, which was covered by the large sweatshirt he was wearing and the hood lifted on his head.

You snuggled against his body and rested your temple on his arm, while he kept his hands in his pockets and together you started walking back home.

"That i can do. And i'll make sure to give you all the best cuddles in the world. You deserve them"

If i wrote this with Dick i just know HE would be the one begging for ice cream, tell me i'm wrong.

[rubyys-domain]

[CHAPTER FOURTEEN]

when FIRELORD ZUKO takes a liking to AVATAR AANG'S mysterious new BRIDE.

TORN BETWEEN TWO ROADS ! — aang x reader x zuko

PLOT. republic city is finally at peace, and for once, katara allows herself to hope—maybe now, after everything, she and aang can finally become something real. but when aang returns after eight months, he isn’t alone. he comes back with you at his side, introducing you as his wife. suspicious yet helpless, his friends do their best to welcome you, even as nothing about this sudden marriage makes sense. but while everyone else keeps their distance, one person doesn’t. and perhaps Zuko gets a little too comfortable with the avatar’s new wife.

CHARACTERS. AANG and ZUKO.

CHAPTER WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, angst, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

(please check the story masterlist for the story warnings.)

WC. 5.4k

masterlist : story masterlist

chapter thirteen

art creds :: chamiii07, ilameys on x

a/n: i just finished reading everyone's comments from the last few chapters, and MY GOD. 😭

every single one of you immediately jumped to conclusions.(which, by the way, i absolutely love.)

but I don't think you guys realize that absolutely nothing happening between them is honestly just going to make things even worse for reader, which is exactly the kind of drama I am looking for.

absolutely no excuses baby,

i love katara so much, i am so tempted to write a spin-off for tbtr katara of her just finding someone she loves.

p.s. please read the a/n at the end!

The small noodle shop overlooked one of Republic City's quieter canals, tucked between a tea house and an elderly couple's grocery store. It was a place they had wandered into a year ago, drawn in by the smell of broth drifting onto the street rather than the sign hanging above the entrance. 

Even now, despite everything that had changed around them, it somehow remained comfortingly familiar.

"...and then Sokka insisted it wasn't his fault because technically the hawk stole the fish before he did."

Aang laughed so suddenly that he nearly dropped his chopsticks.

"That is absolutely something he would say."

"He actually tried convincing the shopkeeper that the hawk was the criminal."

"And did it work?"

Katara grinned.

"No."

Their laughter lingered between them for another few moments before gradually settling into a comfortable silence. Outside, evening had begun painting warm reflections across the water while the steady murmur of passing conversations drifted through the open windows. 

Aang lowered his attention to the bowl resting before him, absently stirring the noodles with his chopsticks before taking another bite.

"Hmm..." he hummed thoughtfully after swallowing. 

"I really missed you, Katara."

The words came so naturally that they caught her entirely off guard. Her smile widened, though her surprise softened it.

"I missed you too, Aang."

He looked up immediately, meeting her eyes with the same open smile he had always worn whenever he was genuinely happy, and for just a moment, it felt strangely easy to pretend nothing had changed between them.

"So," she continued, breaking the silence, "how are things with Zuko? I'm curious why you keep going there. You're practically living in the Fire Nation these days."

The smile faded little by little, and Aang looked back down into his bowl, rolling the chopsticks lightly between his fingers before answering.

"Well..." The single word carried enough weight that Katara immediately understood.

"That bad?"

He gave a small nod.

"Yeah." He searched for the right way to explain it.

"I don't even know how to help him anymore," he admitted quietly. "At first I thought I did, but lately it just feels like...I'm standing in the middle of problems that don't really belong to me."

Katara rested her elbow lightly against the table, watching him carefully while he spoke.

"I guess I understand."

Aang looked toward her.

"If you weren't friends, maybe it'd be easier to stay out of it," she continued. "But you are friends and you're worried for him, and when people you care about are struggling..." She offered a small shrug. 

"...you don't really know how not to help."

"Yeah." The answer escaped almost automatically.

Silence settled again, though this one felt different from before. Aang continued absentmindedly eating, yet his thoughts were clearly elsewhere, his movements slowing enough that Katara noticed almost immediately.

She had spent too many years beside him not to.

"What is bothering you?"

He blinked.

"What?"

She smiled knowingly.

"Something's bothering you."

He looked momentarily confused.

"I thought it was about Zuko," she continued, "but I don't think it is anymore."

Aang avoided her eyes.

"Is it about Sokka?"

He shook his head. "No. Nothing's wrong."

Katara laughed quietly. "Oh, please."

He looked back up.

"I know your tells." That earned the faintest smile from him, though it disappeared quickly.

"Well..." He sighed.

She waited. 

"It's not...not about Zuko."

Katara simply nodded, giving him the space to continue instead of rushing to fill the silence.

Aang rested both chopsticks across the rim of his bowl before speaking again.

"I knew all of you probably wouldn't accept my wife right away."

The confession surprised her, prompting her to open her mouth in protest but close it immediately. He hadn't been wrong, and she hadn't realized he had expected it all along.

Before she could respond, he continued.

"I wasn't really upset about that." He rubbed absentmindedly at the back of his neck. "I figured everyone just needed time. You, Sokka, Toph...I knew you'd come around eventually because you're my family."

Katara felt something tighten quietly inside her chest.

"So..." Aang smiled faintly, though there was very little joy behind it now. "It actually felt nice that at least Zuko seemed to be genuinely happy for me."

The words landed harder than he ever intended making her lower her eyes in shame.

"I really am sorry we made you feel that way."

Aang didn't interrupt.

"We were surprised," she admitted honestly. "And I think we let that surprise get in the way of simply being happy for you."

He answered only with a small smile, not really dismissing the apology, but not verbally accepting it either. 

In his mind, she didn't have any reason to apologize, so he only gave that smile to let her know he wasn't angry.

She wished, strangely, that he had argued instead.

"I thought..." he continued after another moment, "that Zuko was just...being Zuko."

She looked at him curiously.

"You know...a little indifferent." He laughed softly. "He's always been better than the rest of us at accepting change once he decides to stop fighting it."

Katara couldn't help smiling.

"That's one way of describing him."

"But now I'm not so sure." Something in his voice made her expression change immediately.

"What do you mean?"

Aang hesitated.

"I don't want to assume the worst of him."

She remained quiet.

"But...?"

He frowned faintly.

"I've started wondering whether the only reason he offered to accommodate my wife was because he wanted to learn more about her."

Katara looked genuinely puzzled. "What makes you think that?"

Aang rested his forearms against the edge of the table.

"He said a few things to her. and it really upset her."

Katara watched him carefully.

"I know she tried to hide it from me," he continued quietly. "She didn't want another situation like the one with Sokka."

His expression softened almost immediately.

"Like that was ever her fault."

"What did he say?" Katara asked, leaning forward slightly, her elbows resting against the the table, mimicking Aang as she searched his face for an answer.

Only then did Aang seem to realize where the conversation had wandered. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly before darting back toward his untouched bowl, panic flashing across his features for the briefest moment. 

Until now he had been speaking without thinking, simply voicing the worries that had lingered in the back of his mind ever since leaving the Fire Nation, but the moment Katara asked that question he remembered exactly what those words had been about.

If he told her the truth, he would have to tell her that Zuko had questioned his feelings for her.

He couldn't do that.

"Just..." He hesitated, searching for something vague enough to satisfy the question without betraying anyone's confidence. "...just things that made her doubt herself. Her place beside me."

Katara watched him for another moment before the answer finally settled in. She understood immediately that he had no intention of repeating the conversation word for word, and despite her curiosity she respected it enough not to pry further. 

Leaning back into her chair once more, she offered him a small, reassuring smile.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me." Her voice softened. "If you just needed someone to listen, then I'm here."

Aang returned the smile, grateful enough that the tension in his shoulders eased ever so slightly.

"Thanks."

For a while he quietly pushed the noodles around his bowl before speaking again.

"I really want to believe he was just curious," he admitted, frowning down at the broth. "I don't want to think he crossed a line. He's dealing with enough already. My marriage should be the last thing on his mind."

Katara listened without interrupting, waiting until he had finished before answering.

"If you're really that worried..." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Then maybe you should bring her home."

Aang looked up.

"I know you wanted her with you," she continued, "but if she's constantly feeling like someone is trying to pry answers out of her, then I can't imagine she's very comfortable there. Zuko is our friend, and I know he doesn't always realize how he comes across, but sometimes..." She sighed quietly. 

"...sometimes he pushes because he thinks he deserves an answer."

"Yeah." his agreement came almost immediately. "Yeah, I think I will bring her back."

He finally reached for his glass of water, taking a slow sip before setting it down again.

"I don't think bringing her there was the right decision anymore. I just..." He rubbed absentmindedly at the back of his neck. 

"I felt awful leaving her alone, and I knew I had to be away from her for a while. It seemed like a solution."

Katara nodded patiently.

"I thought she'd enjoy staying there more than sitting by herself at home," he continued. "Even if I wasn't there with her."

"What makes you say that, Aang?"

The question stopped him completely.

His mouth opened before closing again just as quickly, every answer that came to mind dying before it reached his tongue. A nervous laugh escaped him instead, and he scratched awkwardly at his cheek.

"I...don't know."

Katara tilted her head.

"Aang?"

"It's..." He stopped again. "My wife...she's very similar to Zuko."

"Oh."

"Well, more like the way they were raised, it's very different from how the Air Nomad's lifestyle."

"I think I understand..."

"She tries to hide it, but I know she struggles with how I live. So I try to give her as much freedom as she wants. But she insisted to join me wholeheartedly. She turned vegetarian, she stopped drinking, she even asked to have the air acolyte clothing made for her."

"Why doesn't she wear them?" Katara asked genuinely, being reminded of how Aang and Sokka's argument had begun in the first place.

"I told her not to." He answered shyly.

"Why?"

"Because I knew she didn't want to. Despite everything that happened, she didn't want to leave her life behind, and her clothes were the only thing that tied her back to home. That's why I thought she might feel a little more at home in the Fire Nation."

Katara nodded, "What happened?"

Aang tilts his head. "What?"

"You said, despite everything that happened. What happened?"

"Oh, um..."

"I won't judge you or her," she assured him gently. "You know that."

"I know you won't!" he answered almost immediately, sounding far more flustered than he intended. "I know that."

He exhaled heavily, looking everywhere except at her.

"I just...I don't think you're the right person to tell."

The words escaped before he could stop them. The moment they did, he wished desperately that he could pull them back.

Katara's expression fell so quietly that anyone else might have missed it, but Aang knew her too well. He saw the hurt settle behind her eyes, and guilt crashed over him before she had even spoken.

"Wait—" He hurried forward slightly, shaking his head.

"I didn't mean it like that." His voice softened immediately. "Katara, you know I value your opinion. You mean so much to me."

He sighed, rubbing both hands over his face before forcing himself to continue.

"...and my wife knows that too."

Katara drew a slow breath through parted lips, understanding arriving quickly making lowering her eyes for only a moment before looking back at him.

"Aang..." Her voice had become quieter now. "I'm sorry if I made things more difficult."

"No."

The answer came instantly.

"No, Katara. Please don't apologize." He shook his head, his voice had almost become a whisper.

"This isn't your fault." He swallowed hard. "I'd never blame you."

His fingers tightened around the edge of the table.

"It happened because I was ignorant." His eyes remained fixed on the untouched bowl in front of him. "She knows I love her...but she just can't bring herself to believe it because—"

"Because of me?" Katara finished quietly. The words hung between them.

Aang didn't answer but his silence said enough. She looked away first, blinking rapidly while drawing another careful breath.

"Katara..." His own voice faltered now.

"I don't..."

She shook her head gently before he could continue. "Please."

When she looked back at him, her eyes had already begun to shine.

"Just say it, Aang."

He stared at her helplessly.

"Say what?"

"Whatever you've been trying so hard not to." A sad smile touched her lips.

"I'm tired of everyone walking on eggshells whenever your name comes up." She let out a quiet laugh that held no amusement. "I don't want you doing it too."

Her fingers curled loosely around the cup sitting in front of her.

"So...please. Just rip the bandage off."

Aang pressed his lips together, his chest tightening until it almost hurt to breathe.

"K-Katara..." His voice cracked before he could finish the sentence.

"I don't want to hurt you." He blinked hard, feeling his own vision blur. "I don't want you thinking I'm saying any of this because I pity you...or because I feel guilty."

He lowered his head.

"But everything I want to say sounds exactly like that."

Katara wasn't faring much better. She quickly brushed away the tears gathering beneath her eyes before folding her arms tightly across herself, steadying her breathing long enough to answer.

"I won't think that." Her voice had become small, though it never lost its certainty. "Just tell me."

Aang remained silent for another long moment before finally finding the courage to meet her eyes again.

"It isn't exactly a secret that I liked you, Katara."

A faint, almost embarrassed smile crossed his face.

"In fact, it was a lot more than a simple crush."

He let out a slow breath.

"I know, Aang."

Katara's answer came almost instinctively.

"I felt the same."

The moment the words left her mouth, both of them froze. Neither acknowledged what she had actually admitted. The confession simply settled quietly between them, too honest to be taken back and too painful to examine any further.

Aang lowered his eyes first.

"I'm so sorry if I've made you feel like I misled you all these years."

His voice had grown quieter now, stripped entirely of the uncertainty that had filled it moments ago.

"I never want to see you hurt." He drew a slow breath, his fingers curling together. "And I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for knowing that I was the reason."

Katara watched him silently.

"I know saying sorry doesn't change anything," he continued, forcing himself to meet her eyes again despite the tears beginning to blur his own. "I'm not saying it because I want to stop feeling guilty. If this is something I'll carry for the rest of my life, then...I will." 

A weak smile tried to form before disappearing almost immediately. "I just need you to know that I never wanted to hurt you."

She swallowed against the tightness in her throat.

"I know you didn't." Her answer came gently. "I know you would never hurt me on purpose."

She paused to steady her breathing.

"But you can't expect me not to be hurt, Aang."

"I know."

He didn't try to defend himself, only accepted her answer.

Katara lowered her eyes toward the untouched bowl in front of her, blinking repeatedly before speaking again.

"I promise..." Her voice caught unexpectedly, forcing her to stop as she hurriedly wiped beneath her eyes with the heel of her hand. 

She let out a quiet laugh through her nose, embarrassed by the tears that refused to stay away. 

"...I promise I don't have anything against your wife."

Aang remained silent.

"But when I looked at her..." She finally lifted her head again, her expression crumbling despite every attempt to keep it together. "...I couldn't stop thinking..."

Her voice barely carried the rest. "...that was supposed to be my life."

The words struck him harder than anything said all afternoon. He stared at her without speaking, his heart sinking further with every second she struggled to continue.

"I'm sorry." She laughed again, though this time it sounded painfully hollow. "I know that sounds awful."

"It doesn't."

She shook her head.

"I was so certain." Her eyes drifted toward the street beyond the restaurant window where strangers continued walking through the evening entirely unaware that her world had quietly unraveled inside four walls. 

"I was so certain of what my future looked like that when you came back married..." She stopped, pressing trembling fingers briefly against her lips before forcing herself onward. 

"...it felt like I'd lost a part of myself."

Aang's own eyes burned.

"And I couldn't even talk about it." Another tear slipped free despite her efforts. "Everyone pitied me."

She smiled bitterly.

"It feels pathetic being pitied over something like that."

"Katara..."

"I wanted to be angry with you. I really did." She looked at him then, her voice had steadied, though only barely.

"But how could I?" She shook her head slowly. "We never even talked about it."

Aang felt his chest tighten.

"I didn't think we had to." Neither accusation nor defense lingered within those words and Katara nodded.

"I didn't either." A faint laugh escaped her.

"I thought..." She smiled sadly. "I thought we'd just...know when the time was right."

"So did I." The admission came immediately, and Katara stared down at her hands resting upon the table.

"Now..." Her voice faltered once more. "...all I can think about is why I never said anything sooner."

Aang couldn't bear the distance between them anymore. Without thinking, he reached across the table, his hand coming to rest gently over hers.

"Katara..."

The contact lasted only a heartbeat.

She withdrew almost instinctively, pulling both hands back toward herself before covering her face entirely. Her shoulders trembled beneath the effort of keeping her sobs quiet, each shaky breath sounding smaller than the last while the evening carried on beyond the restaurant windows, indifferent to the grief unfolding inside.

"I keep wondering..." she whispered through her hands. "If I'd just told you..." Another breath caught painfully in her throat. 

"...if I'd said something before you met her..." She stopped. There was no answer to finish that thought, only another quiet sob.

Aang remained where he was, his hand falling slowly back into his lap, every instinct urging him to comfort her while knowing there was nothing he could possibly say that would lessen what she was feeling.

After another long moment, Katara lowered her hands just enough for him to see her face.

She managed the smallest smile, one that broke his heart all over again.

"I really am happy for you, Aang." Her voice remained fragile, but there wasn't a trace of dishonesty within it.

"I just..."

She paused to wipe her cheeks once more.

"I need some time."

By the time they stepped back onto the streets, the last traces of sunlight had long disappeared beyond Republic City's skyline, leaving hundreds of lanterns to bathe the roads in a warm amber glow. 

The city had always seemed most alive after sunset, and for the first time in years, Aang found himself walking beside Katara without feeling the weight of unspoken words pressing between them.

Neither of them spoke much.

The afternoon had taken more out of them than either cared to admit, yet strangely enough, both felt lighter for it. Nothing had truly been resolved, but at least they no longer had to wonder what the other had been thinking all these years.

They finally knew.

Katara slowed to a stop outside her house, turning toward him with the faintest smile.

"This is me."

Aang smiled back.

"Mhm."

They simply stood there, neither certain whether a hug would be appropriate anymore. The hesitation lasted only a heartbeat before Katara laughed softly to herself.

"See?" she teased, folding her arms loosely. "Now you've made things awkward."

"I did?" Aang asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

"You." She pointed accusingly toward him. "You overthink everything."

Aang rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"I think we both do."

Katara couldn't argue with that.

"I guess we do." She admitted with a small laugh.

Another comfortable silence followed before she stepped closer, reaching out to squeeze his forearm gently.

"Go home to your wife."

There was no bitterness behind those words.

Aang nodded.

"I will."

"And don't worry about Zuko too much, I am sure he's over there boring your wife with his attempts of humor." Katara laughed.

Aang reciprocated it barely, still a little bothered by Zuko's last interaction with you.

"I hope so." He said, his voice soft.

"And Aang..."

He looked back.

"I'm glad we talked."

His smile softened.

"Me too."

She lingered another moment before finally disappearing inside, closing the door quietly behind her.

Aang remained standing where he was for a few seconds longer.

The conversation replayed through his thoughts, not with the heaviness that had haunted him before, but with an odd sense of peace. 

Things would not return to how they had once been, and perhaps they never should. They had both changed too much for that. 

Yet beneath all the complicated feelings, the years apart, and the futures that had taken different paths, she was still Katara.

His oldest friend.

He hoped that would always remain true.

He turned and began making his way back through the lantern-lit streets toward home.

He had barely taken another corner before something small and unexpectedly heavy slammed into the back of his head.

"Ow!"

The impact pitched him forward just enough to stumble, both hands instinctively flying upward in confusion before tiny arms suddenly wrapped around his face.

"Momo?!"

The winged lemur clung stubbornly to him, chirping furiously only inches from his ear.

"Oh, you're mad at me!" Aang laughed despite himself, trying unsuccessfully to pry the little creature away. 

"You were looking for me? I left you enough food! Did you actually finish all of it already?"

Momo answered with another series of indignant chirps, sounding deeply offended by the accusation.

"Okay, okay!" Aang protested between laughs. "I'm sorry!"

Instead of forgiving him, Momo flattened his ears and let out an even louder screech toward the night sky.

"H-Hey..." Aang frowned. "What's going on?"

Another sharp object collided squarely against the side of his head.

"Ow!"

Something fluttered frantically above him.

Tiny claws caught briefly in his sleeve before he reached upward on instinct, carefully wrapping his hand around the small messenger bird struggling to keep its balance.

"Oh..."

His expression immediately shifted.

"So that's why you were looking for me."

Momo chirped in agreement before finally releasing his grip on Aang's face, climbing down to perch around his shoulders instead while continuing to grumble beneath his breath.

Aang laughed quietly, scratching behind one of the lemur's ears.

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry you had to come find me because I wasn't home."

The bird answered with a patient chirp of its own, remaining perfectly still while Aang carefully untied the small scroll secured beneath its wing.

He frowned slightly.

"A letter from the Fire Nation?"

That was unexpected.

He had spoken to Zuko only yesterday before leaving for Republic City. Whatever business had required his presence here had already been discussed, and they both knew he intended to return within another day or two.

His confusion quickly gave way to another possibility.

Maybe it wasn't from Zuko at all. Maybe you had grown impatient after only one day apart.

The thought brought an unconscious smile to his face.

He could almost picture you insisting that one letter certainly wasn't excessive if your husband was away, regardless of how soon he planned to return.

Still smiling to himself, Aang carefully unrolled the parchment, and his smile disappeared almost immediately.

It wasn't your handwriting.

Instead, written neatly at the very bottom of the page, stood a single name.

Zuko.

A faint unease settled in his chest.

He lowered his eyes to the first line.

Then he read, and the blood drained from his face.

Aang, I regret that I must ask you to cut your visit to Republic City short. The palace came under attack shortly after your departure. Although the threat has been contained and those responsible have been apprehended, the circumstances surrounding the attack require your immediate return. Your wife was injured while under my protection. Before anything else, I want you to know that she survived. The palace physician has examined her thoroughly and assures me that her condition is stable. Her injuries are significant, but she has remained conscious, and I have every reason to believe she will recover with time and proper care. I know those words will not ease your mind, but I hope they spare you from imagining anything worse during your journey back. I will explain everything that happened once you arrive. There are matters surrounding the attack that I do not wish to entrust to a messenger bird, both for your sake and hers. I cannot adequately express my regret that this occurred within my palace, especially after I assured you she would be safe here. I accept full responsibility for that failure. Please return as soon as you are able. I am sorry, Aang. — Zuko

The parchment slipped from Aang's trembling fingers before he had even reached the final line.

"No..."

The whisper escaped him without thought.

His heart lurched violently against his ribs, every word Zuko had written crashing together until only one remained.

Your wife was injured...

He snatched the letter back up immediately, reading it again despite already knowing what had been said, his eyes desperately searching for something he might have misunderstood. 

Surely there had been another page. Surely there was some explanation hidden between the lines that would make this seem less frightening than it felt, but there wasn't.

You were hurt and his mind refused to stay still.

How badly had you been injured?

"A-Appa..."

The name barely left his lips before he was already running.

People called after him when he burst through the crowded streets, apologizing instinctively each time his shoulder brushed against another passerby, though he hardly heard himself. 

His thoughts remained hundreds of miles away, already searching desperately through every possibility, every route that might somehow shorten the impossible distance separating him from you.

It was still another full day's journey.

Spirits...

A whole day.

By the time Aang reached home, his thoughts had dissolved into a blur so overwhelming that he barely remembered unlocking the front door. He crossed the familiar rooms without stopping, his feet carrying him instinctively toward the balcony where the cool night air met him the moment he slid the doors open. 

Raising the whistle to his lips, he gave a sharp blow into the carved bison hanging around his neck, the clear call echoing across the quiet streets before disappearing into the darkness beyond the rooftops.

The silence that followed felt endless.

Unable to remain still, Aang turned back inside, his eyes immediately finding the two travel bags resting neatly beside the entrance exactly where he had left them that morning. He had packed them before leaving this morning, knowing he would be too tired to do it after he returned. 

One carried a change of his robes along with a few necessities for the journey ahead, while the other held several of your spare garments folded carefully inside.

He swallowed the feeling before lifting both bags and carrying them back onto the balcony just as a familiar shadow swept over the rooftops. Appa descended with grace despite his enormous size, hovering in front of the railing.

"There you are," Aang murmured, though the relief never reached his voice.

He secured both bags to the saddle with hurried hands before looking toward the winged lemur lingering anxiously behind him.

"Momo." The little lemur tilted his head. "Go on. Meet me downstairs."

Momo chirped once before springing effortlessly onto Appa's saddle, curling himself between the baggage while watching Aang disappear back into the house.

It took only a moment to lock the front door behind him.

Aang paused briefly with the key still resting in his hand, staring at the quiet home that had felt so warm only yesterday, before slipping it into his robes and hurrying back outside.

Appa was already waiting, the great sky bison lowered his head in greeting, letting out a deep, familiar rumble that usually drew an immediate smile from Aang.

Tonight, it only made his heart ache.

Aang crossed the remaining distance quickly, burying both hands into the thick fur along Appa's neck.

"We have to go."

Another rumble answered him, softer this time.

"Right now."

Appa nudged him gently, almost questioning the urgency.

Aang closed his eyes.

"Your mother..." His voice cracked despite every effort to steady it. "Your mother is hurt."

The words lingered between them.

Appa became completely still.

Perhaps he did not understand every word, but he understood enough. He knew your scent, your laughter, the gentle way your hands always disappeared into the fur beneath his horns whenever you greeted him after a long flight.

He knew exactly who Aang meant.

"I need you to fly faster than you ever have before," Aang whispered, resting his forehead against Appa's. "I know it's far, and I know you've barely had time to rest, but...please."

His hand stroked Appa's fur once, urgency bleeding through every syllable as he spoke.

Appa answered with a determined snort before lowering himself without another moment's hesitation.

Aang didn't waste another second.

He climbed onto his head in one practiced motion while Momo darted onto his shoulder, unusually quiet now, sensing the fear that had settled over his friend.

The messenger bird took flight once more.

Aang barely noticed.

"Yip, yip." The command came strained.

Appa surged into the night sky.

Republic City disappeared beneath them almost immediately, its countless lanterns shrinking into scattered stars while the cold wind rushed against Aang's face. His fingers tightened around the reins until they ached, every instinct urging Appa faster despite knowing the great bison was already giving him everything he had.

"Please..."

The plea vanished into the rushing wind.

"Just hold on until I get there."

Night had long settled over the Fire Nation by the time Zuko found himself seated upon the throne once more, though the title of Fire Lord felt strangely distant beneath the weight occupying his thoughts.  

His body remained where duty demanded it be, but his mind had stubbornly refused to leave your chambers.

He had expected relief after speaking with you, instead, he had walked away carrying even more uncertainty than before.

You had thanked him for his hospitality, accepted his apology.

And you had asked only whether Aang had been informed, and he was certain the Avatar must have received his letter by this hour.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

Then, with all the kindness he had once admired in you, you had quietly dismissed him from the room.

The memory lingered unpleasantly.

Your politeness had unsettled him more than your previous anger had. Every careful word and measured smile, every attempt to steer the conversation elsewhere had made one thing painfully clear.

You truly wished to leave the previous night behind. To forget it had ever happened.

"My Lord?"

Zuko did not respond.

"Fire Lord Zuko."

The second voice finally reached him.

He lifted his head immediately, finding every minister seated around the table waiting in silence.

"My apologies," he said quietly, straightening where he sat. "I was elsewhere."

The council exchanged brief glances before one of the senior ministers leaned forward, spreading another map across the table until it covered nearly the entire polished surface. Several locations had already been marked in red ink, connected by thin strokes that crisscrossed the Fire Nation's coastline and reached farther inland than Zuko would have liked.

"As I was saying, Your Majesty," the minister resumed, his tone measured despite the gravity weighing beneath it, "we believe the assault upon the palace may not have been an isolated incident."

Another councilor nodded in agreement.

"The men apprehended after the attack possessed no insignias, no written orders, and no identifying marks upon their bodies. Ordinarily we would assume they were hired internally within our forces." His fingers rested upon one of the marked locations before sliding toward another. 

"However, the manner in which they coordinated their movements, their willingness to die without surrender, and the discipline they displayed suggest something...considerably older."

Silence settled over the chamber.

The older minister inhaled slowly before speaking the name none of them had wished to utter aloud.

"The Shinu bloodline."

The words lingered heavily between those present, no one immediately contradicted him.

"it seems our previous speculations might just be true, my Lord."

For generations, the Shinu clan had remained a blemish upon the history of the royal family. Though they had long ago surrendered their claim to the throne and publicly sworn loyalty to Fire Lord Zoryu's descendants, loyalty born from necessity rarely erased ambition. 

Every generation had produced whispers of resentment, of descendants who believed the crown should never have belonged to Zuko's bloodline in the first place.

Most of those whispers had died before becoming anything more.

Zuko rested both hands upon the edge of the council table, his thoughts finally pulling themselves away from your chambers and settling fully upon the discussion before him.

"We have no proof," he said at last, his voice calm despite the unease beginning to settle within him. "History is not evidence."

"No, but history often tells us where to begin looking." the minister agreed solemnly. 

The chamber fell quiet once more.

Zuko did not want to be prejudiced, especially after spending most of his life being on the receiving end of it.

He didn't want any accusations to be thrown towards the clan, even if their history together hadn't been the friendliest. But if he as a ruler was a stark contrast to his father, then he didn't want to rule out the possibility for someone else changing either.

But that alone can't be enough reason for him ignore the truth.  

Zuko lowered his eyes toward the map spread before him, studying the scattered markings without truly seeing them. 

He had spent years believing the greatest threat to his reign would always bear his father's name.

Now found himself wondering whether he had been looking in the wrong direction all along.

But there was a sense of dread within him, that perhaps his suspicions weren't entirely wrong. 

chapter fifteen coming soon...

a/n: guys...i have some bad news. :(

i can no longer guarantee an update every five days.

i've officially caught up to myself and run out of pre-written chapters, which means everything from this point onward is just rough drafts that i still have to write.

so...we're back to random updates 😭

hopefully i'll still have enough time each day to keep the updates fairly consistent, but i don't want to promise something i can't guarantee anymore.

some chapters might still come out within five days, some might take a little longer, and if the writing gods decide to be kind to me, maybe you'll even get back-to-back updates.

we'll just have to see how it goes. 🤍

also, addressing the chapter...

i don't know how i feel about aang calling you appa's mother 😭

it sounded SO sweet in my head, but when i actually wrote it, i just sat there staring at it like...hmm.

i still kept it because i think it's adorable, but i genuinely can't decide if it's really cute or really corny.

you all can be the judges of that one.

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[whispershell]

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ⸝⸝⸝ 𝐣𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐝

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐞 ⇢ your finals were stressful enough. having jason doing chores shirtless around the apartment certainly wasn't helping.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⇢ suggestive ⬫ fluff ⬫ established relationship ⬫ f!reader ⬫ no physical description is given for the reader ⬫ english isn't my language .... 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⇢ 2k.

❝ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ❞ first of all, i'd like to give credit to the incredibly beautiful jason artwork by @ciricearts and the dividers by @/chrisssiren. i'm so happy because this blog just hit 100 followers, yeee!! the idea for this fic came from the awful grade i got in business math... but at least i managed to recover it in the end. anyway, i hope you enjoy! ꈍ ꈍ ੭っ

𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 the type to sleep much. years spent living on the streets, combined with all his training and his life as a vigilante, had taught his body to snap awake at the slightest sound. even after his longest patrols, his brain stubbornly refused to let its guard down.

but last night's patrol had been different. harder. he'd taken more hits than usual, fallen from a considerable height, and thrown more than a few guys into walls. by the time he'd made it back to your apartment, it was already a little past 3:00a.m. he'd barely managed to peel off his gear before collapsing into bed beside you.

when jason finally woke up, it was already 11:00a.m. he stretched lazily beneath the blankets, hugged the pillow against his chest, and glanced at the clock on the nightstand to make sure he wasn't imagining the time. the ceiling fan spun overhead with a soft, steady hum. the bed was warm, comfortable, and smelled like you. and he trusted you with his whole heart. under those circumstances, sleep came easy.

he reached across the mattress, patting your side of the bed, only to find it empty. the bedroom door was closed, and no sounds drifted in from the rest of the apartment.

sitting up, he rolled his shoulders, wincing as sore muscles protested and a few joints cracked pleasantly. then he lifted an arm, caught a whiff of himself, and grimaced. he'd been so exhausted last night that he hadn't even showered. you deserved better than that, he thought. the bare minimum was being a clean, decent-smelling boyfriend.

jason climbed out of bed, grabbed the towel you'd left out for him, and headed for the bathroom. warm water poured over his aching body, easing the soreness from the previous night's patrol while washing away sweat, grime, and dried blood. once he was done, he pulled on nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants and stepped out with damp hair still dripping onto his shoulders.

the moment he entered the living room, he found you sitting on the floor with your back resting against the couch. an open laptop sat in front of you, a lecture video paused on the screen. around you lay an overwhelming sea of open textbooks, notebooks, highlighters, scattered pens, and one oversized mug of coffee.

jason knew your finals were right around the corner. he also knew how seriously you took your education. it was one of the things he admired most about you.

walking over, he bent down and gently ran a hand through your hair "morning, pretty girl. sleep well?" you closed your eyes for a brief moment, leaning into his touch before immediately returning your attention to the page in front of you.

"morning, baby. i did. what about you?" you asked without looking up from the book. "there's fresh coffee. i bought your favorite jam yesterday, it’s in the cabinet if you want some." a small smile tugged at his lips. he left you to your studying.

in the kitchen, jason poured himself a mug of coffee, tossed a couple slices of bread into the toaster, cracked a few eggs into a frying pan, and helped himself to the jam you'd mentioned. sitting on one of the counter stools, he ate in comfortable silence, stealing occasional glances in your direction with a faint smile.

once he finished, he gathered the dirty dishes and carried them to the sink. last night's dinner plates were still stacked there, so he organized everything in what he considered the most efficient way before washing each plate, fork, and glass in an order that probably only made sense to him.

meanwhile, you were losing your mind over one particular subject. it had never been your strongest class, but you were far too stubborn to settle for a mediocre grade. with a heavy sigh, you let the textbook fall into your lap and glanced toward the kitchen, where your boyfriend stood at the sink with his back turned to you. and holy shit. he was gorgeous.

his hair was still slightly damp from the shower. his broad, bare back flexed with every movement, showing off defined muscles marked by both old and fresh scars, along with bruises earned during the previous night's patrol.

your eyes drifted lower. his sweatpants hung low enough to reveal those little dimples above his hips. and jason's ass? absolutely perfect. round, firm. infuriatingly nice. your boyfriend was undeniably stunning.

but you didn't have time to admire him, you had a damn exam to study for. you picked your textbook back up and tried to focus. tried. because every few seconds, your head seemed to turn on its own, your eyes instinctively finding jason all over again.

now he was putting dishes away in the cabinets, completely oblivious to the absolutely starving beast — you, to be specific — watching him from across the room.

you forced yourself to look back at your books. only to lose your place again. and again. you'd forget what you'd just read, lose your train of thought, and have to start the entire page over.

jason still had his own apartment, but the two of you had been together long enough that spending several days at each other's places had become completely normal. you had a section of your closet reserved for his clothes, just like he'd made room for yours at his place.

at this point, it honestly felt like you both had two homes. this was already jason's fifth day staying over. technically, the two of you hadn't spent much time together. he'd been busy with patrols, and you'd been buried under assignments and exam prep. still, for jason, simply crawling into bed beside you at the end of the day was enough to quiet his mind and make him happy.

because of your finals, the apartment had gotten a little messy. you were under so much pressure and juggling so many responsibilities that some chores had inevitably been pushed aside. but jason had been staying there all week too, the mess wasn't yours alone. so he decided to take care of it. that way, you'd have one less thing weighing on your mind.

he started by sweeping the apartment, deliberately avoiding the vacuum cleaner so the noise wouldn't interrupt your studying. afterward, he grabbed the mop and started cleaning the hardwood floors, adding a pleasantly scented cleaner that slowly filled the apartment with a fresh, comforting smell.

from your perspective, it was heaven. jason todd, all 6’0 tall, shirtless, muscles shifting beneath his skin as he quietly went about household chores without complaining once. god, you found competent men so unbelievably sexy.

almost instinctively, you brought the pen you were holding to your mouth, absentmindedly chewing on the cap as the textbook lay completely forgotten in your lap.

you looked him over again. this time from the front. your gaze wandered from his broad chest, down over his sculpted abs and the happy trail that, truthfully, made you very happy indeed.

then your eyes dropped a little lower, and you noticed something. jason had apparently pulled on his sweatpants without bothering with underwear. now, as he pushed the mop across the floor, his very well-endowed friend swayed ever so slightly beneath the fabric, leaving very little to the imagination.

a quiet, disbelieving laugh escaped you before both hands flew up to cover your face. seriously… how were you supposed to study when your boyfriend looked that unfairly good?

the worst part? he genuinely seemed to have no idea what he was doing to you. you took a sip of the coffee that had long since gone cold and inhaled deeply. focus. you could not fail this class.

with a little of your self-control restored, you grabbed your notebook and resumed the lecture you'd been watching before jason woke up. maybe listening to the professor while taking notes would be enough to keep your attention where it belonged.

it worked, for a while. right up until jason walked back out carrying an overflowing laundry basket with one hand as if it weighed absolutely nothing. his expression was as calm as ever, and the flex of his arm made every muscle stand out beneath his skin, veins tracing along his forearm.

you followed him with your eyes until he disappeared into the laundry room. a long sigh slipped past your lips as you let your head fall back against the couch. why was watching him do laundry so attractive?

a few minutes later, he returned, and you could hear the washing machine starting its cycle somewhere in the background. focus. you tried again. you pulled your notebook closer to your face, hugged your knees to your chest, and turned the lecture volume up, silently hoping your professor's irritating voice would annoy you enough to kill the mood.

the plan fell apart the second jason came back carrying a feather duster. watching him move from shelf to shelf, stretching, crouching, balancing an entire stack of books in one hand before placing every single one back exactly where it belonged… that was enough.

you paused the video. screw it. the study session was already doomed anyway. at that point, getting soaked with a bucket of water hardly mattered when you'd already jumped into the pool.

you stretched your legs out, rested one arm along the couch, and propped your head against your hand. then you simply watched him. completely shamelessly. your imagination filled in the blanks faster than you could stop it.

eventually, jason seemed to notice your stare. he turned around and met your eyes. his gaze flickered briefly toward the abandoned books and notebooks scattered around you before one corner of his mouth curled upward. raising an eyebrow, he smirked "babe... shouldn't you be studying?"

"oh, i absolutely should," you admitted with a shrug. "seriously. i bombed my last exam." a mischievous smile slowly spread across your face as you kept staring at him. "and may i ask why you aren't studying?" jason asked, already sounding suspicious.

"because..." you paused dramatically, running your tongue across your lips. "study is important..." another deliberate pause "but biceps are importanter."

silence. then jason burst out laughing. "you little pervert!" he accused, pointing a finger at you. "were you seriously checking me out?"

"this is entirely your fault," you shot back without missing a beat "how am i supposed to focus on studying when there's a ridiculously hot vigilante with a body sculpted by the gods cleaning my apartment shirtless and commando?"

jason blinked. then looked down. only then did he realize exactly how obvious the outline beneath his sweatpants was. he pressed a hand dramatically against his chest, feigning offense "so you're admitting, without a shred of shame, that you've been shamelessly thirsting over my body while i was completely innocent and blissfully unaware?"

your grin only widened. crooking a finger, you beckoned him closer. jason didn't hesitate, he walked over immediately before crouching in front of you, leaning in until your faces were only inches apart. "yes," you confessed softly "i absolutely was. i was staring shamelessly."

"not even a little embarrassed?" he murmured, his smile growing as he leaned even closer. "not even a little." your arms slipped around his neck as you closed the remaining distance, meeting his lips in a slow, lingering kiss.

when you finally pulled away in search of air, you tilted your head slightly "thank you, baby." he looked at you curiously "i've been so overwhelmed thinking about finals that i didn't even realize how cluttered everything had gotten."

jason's expression softened immediately, his thumb brushed gently across your cheek "you don't have to thank me. you're taking care of school. that's your job."

"but you didn't have to do all this, you know." he answered with a quick peck before meeting your eyes again, his voice completely serious "yeah, i did. your job is to take care of school. my job..." his smile turned impossibly gentle. "...is taking care of you."

your chest tightened, a lump formed in your throat. it was such a simple sentence, but it was exactly what you needed. to be taken care of. you pulled him into another kiss before whispering against his lips, "then let's go to the bedroom," a teasing smile tugged at the corners of your mouth "and take care of something else, too. i've been missing a few things."

© 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 || please do not translate, repost or publish my works without permission. they’re personal to me, and i hope you’ll respect that.