a/n: I'll be away from my blog from July 4th-July 9th for vacay. Please enjoy this segment before I take off!
Content: fluff | feat savanaclaw with a very considerate partner
Leona Kingscholar
The amount of times Leona’s temper were tested from your hubris were a quantity he lost count. Once was fine, twice was pushing it, but thrice.. A dialogue was needed. He couldn’t possibly have you diminish your presence, especially when you have your own needs.
Although your gestures are sweet in retrospective, it came to the cost of your desires. Leona recognized the bittersweet expression from anywhere, a haunting memory that he knew too well as a child. He plucks you from your stupor, giving you something from his inventory so you wouldn’t feel as bad from earlier - he really tried to ignore the feeling of warmth blooming in his midst.
Leona didn’t want to see you sacrifice something as menial as food just to appease your friends or ensure they’re well. He’d give you his portion begrudgingly, muttering something akin to making sure you’re eating well and not starving yourself. As second born prince, he had plenty of resources available to him, whatever you need, he can provide.
He speaks upon experience that kindness can cost you, regardless of any circumstance. He even knows that you have the best intentions, but only if you have resources available and are able to provide, would you be able to extend a hand. Selfish it may seem, yet a necessity in reality.
Ruggie Bucchi
Ruggie once thought you were self-sacrificing, not really thinking of yourself but for the sake of others, mindful of their needs and wants. His impression of you was colored by a strange feeling, something familiar that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
He thought of his grandma giving him a bigger portion of food while she gave herself a smaller portion when he was a small boy. His young mind didn’t comprehend the reasoning behind it, other than that his grandma encouraged him to eat more so he could grow strong and healthy. He reflects on this memory years later; now, he takes his grandma’s example to help feed the younger kids larger portions while channeling his portion to ensure their growth.
Upon this memory, he saw himself in you, a kindred spirit who would ensure that everyone was taken care of and had enough, knowing very well that you too deserve plenty. If you were willing to make way for others, then Ruggie, in his mind, would do the same.
Yet, he’d share with you, ensuring you had enough for yourself to get by. Though the gesture was sweet, you’d scold him again and again, to the point of making sure you both had the same portion or matching items. It was something, a compromise prompted by affection.
Jack Howl
He thinks this side of you is sweet, but too much prompts his concern. There was such thing as doing it for the sake of love, but moderation was key. He is outspoken about your boundaries, watching for little moments such as your smile or your demeanor to see if a line was crossed.
Your hubris worries him - and he won’t admit it openly. A tail and a side glance were quiet messages out of concern, an inquiry if you’re certain to part with an item so freely. When you wave him off, he grumbles, his lips forming a pout.
His annoyance festers even more when you diminish your presence to allow someone - out of courtesy was fine, but when you didn’t have the chance to have your moment was the exact moment that his temper piqued.
In a world riddled of selfish people who would do anything to take advantage on the slight bit of kindness, you were the source of worry for Jack - he wouldn’t speak on it until his patience ran thin. He respected that you cared for others, but the fact that you do this often was something he made note of and will confront you about it later.
A/n: soooo how are we feeling with the book 8 update? those RSA boys are definitely making a splash for our NRC boyos~
content : fluff | featuring minajeel, rielle, and neige | his reaction when you give him a thoughtful gift
Neige LeBlanche
Neige is absolutely delighted upon receiving such a wonderful gift, his sweet demeanor radiating with a blinding smile, seemingly picture-perfect before a camera. He isn’t shy to shower you with praises, enough to make you fluster, even though it was a simple item.
Neige isn’t shy to hug you after unveiling the gift before you, making sure that your efforts and sentiments in the gift aren’t wasted. His gratitude is ceaseless; this moment practically embeds itself in his memory as a point in your friendship with him, where he airs the promise to cherish the gift forever.
The sheer display of sickeningly sweet affection sends tremors upon your heart - was it the corny promise or the charming image of his happiness getting to you? You prefer not to answer the question, opting for a nonchalant response to your friend.
Rielle Corallia
Rielle, a chronic trinket collector, cannot wait to include your gift in his collection. Animated as he is, he is already thinking of a place to put your gift, a comment in passing that you couldn’t imagine what his room looked like with the many trinkets he has in his possession.
Upon unboxing it, Rielle bursts into a flurry of excitement, his eyes twinkling, even his feet kicking up in the air as he marvels at this treasure with wonder. He speculates on the object's rarity with its underwater counterparts, comparing it to contraptions that go away over your head as he fathoms the item before him.
You answer his burning questions to the best of your ability, only then does the machinations of Rielle’s mind click with understanding. Watching him with his gift warmed your heart with fondness, a relief that came with the incredulity upon opening it.
Minajeal Tealrajah
A gift wasn’t surprising to Minajeal - in fact, the many suitors that came his way would send him gifts by the dozens, from new shoes, clothes, and the like to curry favor for the youth. A gift, to him, also meant troubling himself to reciprocate the feelings of the giver. When you gifted him with a small yet simple gift, surprise lists upon his features - were you trying to court him or just trying to curry favor so that he could do an errand for you?
His skepticism goes unanswered when you elevate the giftbag to him, encouraging him to open it. Whatever it was, he hoped you didn’t have to splurge out too much. A slight surprise gives him pause; out of the times he had been gifted, those items never really catered to his taste - a polite smile and pleasantries would be exchanged while the goods were transported elsewhere, out of sight of Minajeel. Yet, as for this gift, it was as if you knew exactly what he wanted - or something that catered to his tastes.
Watching Minajeal's reaction to your gift caught you off guard and boosted your ego at the same time. You couldn't help but fluster when he started going off on a tangent about the gift, how he had been wanting it for so long, but never really got around to getting it due to its rarity. It was only a hug, and the scent of fragrant oils anchors you back to reality. You recall a warm 'thanks' from Minajeel just before you could register what was going on.
A/n: switching things up with the recent characters + staff content! enjoy!
note: teacher! reader | featuring divus, crowley, and fellow/ernesto | will be utilizing the jp name as opposed to the global name for his character | how would they know if they're falling in love?
Dire Crowley
If the Headmaster couldn’t be even more obvious about his fondness towards you, he would surely show it in many ways; from sending flowers to your desk every week, bidding you a lovely morning, to scheduled tea times to help you unwind after a long day of teaching classes. His blatant favoritism towards you certainly earned the chagrin of his peers, as they had never seen such proactiveness from Crowley other than trying to implement countermeasures on overblotting students.
Of course, you knew this was Crowley trying to get into your good graces, charades to hopefully have you reciprocate his affections. He’d cling to the hope, perhaps the fantasy of you expressing your feelings towards him, when little did he know, you harbored such feelings yourself. Though it’ll take more than grand gestures like this to have you open up eventually.
Watching Crowley go about grandiosely as if to seek your attention amused you greatly; one would think that he’d give you such entertainment if it weren’t for your affection towards him. His acts, you discerned, were adorable attempts to favor your affections his way, but as a colleague of his, this was a sliver of the true Crowley you knew.
Sure, such gestures would come to the attention of your students, blurring the lines of decorum and personal affairs, where Crowley crashed upon one of your classes to recite a poem of love aloud to you, leaving complicated expressions of students in his wake - your students’ impressions of you and Crowley weren’t quite the same ever since.
Crowley truly was a man of love, you deduce, thinking of a way to chide him for such an embarrassing display of affection. Who’d have known that the Headmaster, out of all people, was a man to do such feats for his love? This, you stipulate, was all a part of him when love claims his heart unconditionally.
Divus
Love is a fickle thing, Divus had heard Trein say a number of years ago, in tandem with a long-winded lecture that melted the alchemy teacher’s ear off. Divus, once a youth himself, experimented with love, having had a handful of positive experiences in his previous relationships. As for you, the bond you shared with Divus disrupted his train of thought more often than he anticipated.
As a colleague, he truly respected your craft, your passion, and your expertise in the subject to teach the young pups - yet, the way you disciplined them was a sore spot. He noticed how seemingly docile the pups were emerging from your class, always singing the praises of your beauty, your intellect, or something he was aware of. Troubled he was when his students happened to learn more in your class than in his, but even more so by how to properly discipline them, let alone have them achieve similar academic prowess.
Thusly, he postulates a hypothesis: to what extent can he truly discipline his students with your help? His experiment was part of an observational study, the population of students who had him and you in their bell schedule. Such an experiment was intriguing enough that he snuck a few visits to your class to watch your performance.
He had to admit: your approach to teaching was flawless, annoyingly so that he found himself quite engaged during his visits, asking you a couple of questions here and there, and adapting your witticisms in his teachings. These moments would catch his students by surprise, sparking whispers that he was intrigued by you. He doesn’t let these rumors get to him either way; the fruition of his experiment took priority.
His little experiment would bring him trouble by its final stages - though his experiment brought him some answers, it came with complicated feelings. How long had it been since his heart was assailed with such sentiments? It troubled him greatly to the point that you occupied his thoughts. He can’t really get rid of such thoughts as time goes by. And so, he thinks of another hypothesis: to what extent did his feelings for you go, and how willing were you to accept taking on such?
Fellow Honest
Fellow had seen how society treated those with little or no magical potential, the way pity would run rampant amongst those with magical talent; oh, his grudge would run rampant against those who looked down upon these souls. Pity was the last thing he wanted from a magic user, but you gave him grace, patience befitting of a saint, and enough kindness that could make a saint cry from envy.
You encouraged him to learn even if he didn’t believe he had the capability. Your insistence may have vexed him, but the efforts paid off when he approached you, eager to learn a thing or two from you. What he thought would be a lot of goading from your end while teaching him, you don’t do that: you encourage him and test his limits until he manages to execute a skill perfectly.
For a moment, Fellow thought he was too old for this sort of thing, better off teaching Gidel in the meantime, but you were insistent on teaching Fellow - it was possible for him to conjure magic despite what others had said to him. Your optimism might’ve ticked him off at a certain point, but it was your belief in him that motivated him to keep going.
Even as his skills advanced by leaps and bounds, he found himself flustered at the slightest touch of your presence or the intensity of your eyes during your teaching sessions. Though he was focused on refining his abilities, you captivated him in many ways than one.
As his abilities blossomed to their full potential, a simple thanks wouldn’t suffice - he opens up to you, voicing out his doubts, his worries, his whole heart out. In you, he found solace, a place where, beside the little munchkin Gidel, he finds himself giving his heart to you, a gesture he’d never think he’d do as a young adult.
a/n: hi hi hi, this fic will be a two part fanfic; been cooking up a little cozy idea for this one hehe
content: fluff | mentions of alcohol | sfw | high school reunion with adult! ceo! zuko x novelist! reader
Part 1 (feat. reader's pov)
wc: 2,5k
Summary: when a high school reunion with your friends goes a little too well for your liking
“Ladies.” A voice cuts through the conversation, your eyes landing upon a stranger with a familiar face. Amber eyes, the color of morning sunrise, bearing a scar of scarlet on his left eye, a face that seemingly belonged to the awkward, moody boy you remembered sitting across from you at the library during lunch, a book at hand while he grumbled to himself. You remembered paying him no mind, probably a reader who would voice his grievances aloud. Now that the teenager has become a man, his features have sharpened into a visage befitting a model in a custom-made suit with burgundy and gold trim, dark tresses bound in a man-bun.
Time couldn’t possibly make a teenager, out of all people, glow up not once, but three times in the span of five years; you’ve practically seen transformation after transformation with Zuko, his hair being the highlight of such. Now, you theorized that this man before you was his final evolution, with luscious locks and a jawline sharp enough to kill somebody.
You let out a quiet gasp; once upon a time, earlier in your career, you wrote a mystery novel featuring a cast of characters, including a CEO, haunted by family trauma from when he was a boy, and Zuko, who looked every inch of the character you wrote. You swallow a bout of heat, a prickling sensation traveling down your groin and between your legs.
Suki and Yue sneak glances at you, giggling among themselves before greeting Zuko.
“President Zuko, to what do we owe the pleasure?”
Yue extends a hand in greeting, and Zuko shakes it firmly, a civil exchange between CEOs.
“President Yue, to think I’d meet with the current president of the Moon Rabbit Enterprises. Your cosmetics are groundbreaking with the younger people.”
“Thank you, President Zuko. I try my best to appeal to everyone.”
The exchange of flattery is a common sight between fellows in the corporate realm; you almost forgot to provide your salutation to the President.
“[Reader], novelist with a few published works under my belt. I’m currently working on my latest one at the moment.”
A smile flashes on Zuko’s lips - a deadly charm that sends your heart racing a million miles a minute. You shake a firm hand, catching a whiff of strong essence emanating from him - rich cologne of ember, chestnut, and pine that indeed gravitated your gaze to him.
“Charmed, [Reader]. I’ve read your works. They’re incredible.”
Who’d thought Zuko, out of all people, had read your works? You reeled in your thoughts - wait, he reads my works, plural?!
You mask your surprise with a bashful expression,
“I’m flattered you’ve read my works, Mr. CEO of Phoenix Conglomerate.”
“I’m looking forward to your next piece, Miss Writer.”
To think that a former classmate, much less the leader of all things rich, had read your works - a passing thought intrudes to ask him what works he had read, but you opted not to. Years of writing books hadn’t waned your sense of embarrassment.
“I’ll do my best to write to your expectations, Mr. CEO.”
You politely quip, feeling the room temperature rise by ten degrees. Suki is the last to exchange her greetings, introducing herself as a mixed martial arts instructor for teenagers and young adults. Yet, something nagged at you - in your memories, another person accompanied Zuko in his youth, Mai, a tight-lipped girl who everyone in your class collectively agreed not to piss off. Though it may be years since you last saw her, the question trickles out of your lips, clumsy but curious.
“How are things with Mai, Zuko?”
The second you uttered such a question, a profound silence reigned, the room's temperature suddenly dropping to the temperatures of the Poles. Shame replaces the bashfulness you had - maybe that question was too personal to ask of the CEO, perhaps taboo if it were asked by the wrong person.
Amber eyes glaze over, a rueful smile befalls the man's lips.
"We broke up a long time ago."
A confession sends ripples of shock between you and your friends; the admission felt so unreal. Years ago, you remember Zuko and Mai were attached to the hip; Zuko with a possessive hand across Mai's waist or a rumored glimpse of them kissing in the halls when they thought people weren't looking. This latest piece of gossip would surely be the topic of the town for most of your classmates if more were to hear of his admission. Yet, you and your friends were not the gossiping type; your reactions of surprise barely went unnoticed by Zuko.
"It was a long time ago, though. I was a terrible boyfriend to her anyway. Didn't really communicate with her about everything."
Your friends immediately school their expressions, maintaining a sense of sympathy catered to the broken-hearted.
"Oh, Zuko, I'm sorry about that."
Yue is the first to speak up in the group; her kindness is admired even by professionals in her field. Suki speaks next, though her words are more cutting and honest.
"So, Mr. CEO here is on the dating market now?"
"Suki!"
You and Yue scold your friend for daring to ask the very obvious aloud, eliciting a chuckle from Zuko.
"It's alright, it's alright. Yes, I'm very much single. It's already common knowledge. The tabloids have been talking all about it."
You almost deflate, declaring yourself the fool for thinking his relationship status was meant to be kept secret, and at least trying to uphold his dignity. A headache blossoms between your temples - an evening dedicated to a class reunion came with its surprises; not only did you come across a former classmate dressed to the nines as the newly established CEO of a deeply rooted company, a hot and single one at that, but the same person also read your works as well?
This was truly something from your fanfic reading days, or you were already getting tipsy from drinking just a shot of wine.
"Can I get you, ladies, something to eat? I've heard that our hosts, Aang and Katara, made everything themselves."
Who wouldn't resist a platter of good homemade food? You assent, watching his back clothed in rich velvet weave within the crowd. With the CEO gone, your friends cast spare glances of disbelief, your mouths agape at the shocking revelation.
“I knew he was single! I knew it!”
Yue cries victoriously.
“I can’t believe he reads my works!”
You parrot out.
“That explains why Mai has been going to my classes with Ty Lee!”
Suki smacks her hand on her forehead.
“This CEO is a piece of work!”
Your thoughts align with a conclusion to which you all voice out in unison. Each girl, including you, had a piece of processing what Zuko had spoken to you, trying to extrapolate what had transpired between him and Mai in the years you last laid eyes on them, even coming up with theories. Your excited conspiracies later dim as the very subject of your conversation approaches with platters of delectable feats.
“Your dinners, ladies.”
Yue thought it was inappropriate for a CEO to behave like a restaurant waiter; she rushed to the kitchen to grab Zuko a plate. He initially refused, claiming he wasn’t hungry, but at Yue’s insistence, he relented and let the young lady go.
“You don’t have to act so smooth on us ladies now, Zuko.”
Suki perks an eyebrow. You couldn’t help but agree with her sentiment.
“What if I’m just doing it to reconnect with my former classmates? We were all in the same class together, right?”
“It’s a nice gesture, but it could lead to a lot of misunderstandings. I’m sure the paparazzi have already caught you doing that.”
Zuko scoffs,
“What paparazzi? I made sure that no one of that kind takes photos without my permission, and access to the building requires a high level of clearance, too.”
You and Suki exchange wary glances. Either it was the CEO talking or the volatile personality you knew from school, one thing was for certain: Zuko had the foresight of a leader who protected his privacy and his workers in the corporate world.
“Anyway, [Reader], if you don’t mind me asking, has your publisher been doing marketing for your works at all?”
You blink quizzically.
“No, they’re still marketing the first two books I’ve done. They haven’t done anything about my current book lately.”
Zuko raises an eyebrow. Suki couldn’t help but glance in your general direction - somehow intrigued by the sudden attention on you.
“From what I’ve heard from the head of the publisher, they plan to drop you.”
A gasp escapes from your lips before you could comment a singular word. Anxiety grips your being, questions swirling in your mind as you try to speak. Was it because your books weren’t appealing to your audience? Your dignity takes a hit.
“Sorry for bringing up that so suddenly. Your publisher didn’t see worth in telling you, so.. I thought I’d just tell you right now.”
A familiar weariness overcomes you, a feeling you’ve experienced in the instance of a rejection email and when your writing session wasn’t going so well.
“Thanks, Zuko.”
You watch his expression melt into something adjacent to affection and fondness. Pretending not to notice, you retrieve your phone and consult your agent's messages to confirm the developments. Sending a brief text to her, a sigh tumbles from your lips, your shoulders sagging from the weight of the truth. Disbelief wasn’t the best word to describe your reaction; rather, it was a suspended sensation of sorrow that boiled up after years of honing your craft to make your masterpiece known to the world.
“Perhaps,”
Zuko’s voice cuts through your stupor.
“I can help you with finding a new publisher. I have partnered with a publishing company that can help market all of your books, not just your debut books.”
Your lips tug to a relieved smile. It seemed that tonight’s crossroads of fate had brought you into a night of good fortune; first, it was meeting old classmates and reconnecting with them, an old classmate reading your works, and now, a helping hand to your publisher dilemma. You worry if your good luck will run out tomorrow.
“I’ll gladly take you up on the offer, Mr. CEO. Let me know if I need to sign anything beforehand.”
“I can send you the documents right away.”
The look he gives you oozes something from the novels you wrote, charismatic and intense. You dare to look up, only for Suki to clear her throat - a perfect intervention on her part.
“[Reader], if you’re finished flirting with Mr. CEO here, I’d like to grab some drinks?”
The question wasn’t much of a request, but more of a command on her part - just an effort to extract you from Zuko’s clutches. You pardon yourself, not catching the gaze Zuko had given you upon your departure. Suki latches on to you firmly, her voice lowered to a whisper.
“Dude, have you seen the way Zuko looks at you? I think he’s into you.”
“Girl, I’m more bothered about the fact that he owns a publishing company. Like, how?”
Suki blinks once, twice, and perhaps thrice to recalibrate her thoughts. Of course, you had other priorities apart from thinking about Zuko’s relationship status. She takes you by the shoulders, a pose you’ve been in more than once.
“[Reader], I need you to realize this: Zuko might be doing this because he likes you. I’m not sure if his acquiring a publisher might be scary timing, but seriously, think about it.”
You blink cluelessly. Suddenly, you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn to a beautiful face decked in white and blue - Yue smiling sweetly, her hands occupied with flutes of bubbling champagne. You accept a flute, resorting to a small corner of the room to whisper amongst yourselves.
“I take it we’re discussing the man of the hour?”
“Of course, he’s trying to seduce our lovely novelist into signing with his publishing company.”
Now it was Yue’s turn to be confused.
“Zuko has a publishing company?!”
“That’s the same reaction I had earlier! I don’t believe him one bit.”
Your friends return your gaze, your silence startling them.
“Well.. he was right about my publisher for one thing.”
You had checked your phone for a response from your agent, and she had replied quite promptly with a long paragraph. Your friends gather around to decipher the message, the glare of your phone casting pale light across your features.
“Hey, this will be a difficult topic to talk about, so yeah.. You see, the publishers found that your two books brought our company so much in sales that they didn’t want to let you go. But as soon as you were moving on to your next series, they decided it was time for you to be let go from the company. They were going to wait until the end of this year to drop the news on you, but.. I have a feeling someone beat them to it.”
You attempt to answer, as Yue and Suki share concerned glances.
“Those first two novels I’ve written are what I plan to work on. Milking content out of these books would just drag out the story for too long. I think it’s best for me to move on from this project and work on my new book.”
Liquid courage manifested those words to text. You wouldn’t dare voice out such thoughts aloud even if you were sober, but with a little alcohol in your system and some eye candy from tonight’s happenings, the text message came to fruition. Without hesitation, you send it, your friends placing a hand on each shoulder as a sign of courage. You don’t wait for a response; your phone is already in your pocket. For now, you were looking forward to signing that deal with Zuko, especially in light of corporate developments involving your book.
“I’m going to sign with Zuko.”
You declare with finality. Your friends, on the other hand, say nothing save for apprehensive glances before heading back to your table, where Zuko waited patiently. The Zuko you knew from high school would’ve stormed off from waiting too long, his youthful features contorting to a scowl and probably curse a storm off - but this Zuko, seemingly contrasted the boy you knew, waited patiently, his gaze warm and fond, as he inquired softly:
“Have you thought about it?”
Yue and Suki stand close by, putting some distance between you and Zuko while keeping a close eye on Zuko for any tricky business. You, on the other hand, were focused on the CEO before you, the promise of signing up with a new publisher overriding the sense of danger lingering from your friends.
Your former classmate gives you a charming smile, one that melts your heart upon sight. Was he always this attractive, you think to yourself, your lips curling into a smile.
“Yes, and I accept your offer to sign with your publisher.”
“Very well.”
The very image of the widening smile lingers in the banks of your memory, stirring more than just your heart.
Trey loves that you love food. He spoils you in every which way, with new and experimental pastries and more, having you on speed dial whenever inspiration strikes him.
Having a sophisticated food palette and a love for all things flavorful, you always had something to comment about his work, showering him with compliments and providing constructive criticism when he asked. Though he could also ask the others to sample his foods, his thoughts would revert to you and your reaction, the hint of a smile curling on your lips upon a delectable flavor at first bite, the telltale twinkle in your eye when you catch upon a striking yet wondrous flavor - your reaction was one of the many reasons why Trey enjoys what he loves to do.
He encourages you to eat more, basking in the moment of you enjoying what he has made. Rather, the thought of making more batches from what he had made for you slipped his mind as he watched your reaction.
Not only did your comments help him evolve as a cook, so did his approach towards the activity; he ventures onto different ingredients, those that balance the sheer volume of sugar, accentuate the flavor without souring, and ingredients that boldly stand out in the sea of sweetness, experimenting with the delicate balance of sweetness and sourness. as well as seeking for a more healthier way to make his pastries - just so he wouldn’t go overboard.
His worries would dissipate upon your approval; watching you smile sweetly upon taking the first bite was more than enough to assuage his anxieties - he could work on that later.
Jamil Viper
Jamil learned to cook out of necessity, not really as a hobby. He had to learn to cook through recipes, experimentation, and hopes and prayers that whatever he threw would be edible enough for Kalim to consume. Years of attempted assassinations through poison and all sorts had honed his instincts and skills to the limits as a servant - cooking was the least of his troubles.
Just like Kalim, you always look forward to his creations, sometimes tagging along to help with the kitchen, despite Jamil’s protests not to be in the kitchen. You quite liked watching Jamil work his magic, his nimble hands cutting away the greens, proteins, and fruits to make a dish befitting of a masterpiece.
Though Jamil wasn’t fond of people watching him, your intrigue didn’t bother him as much when you’d ask him question after question about his use of ingredients, the occasional assistance from you asking nicely, or his method of prepping. Your presence in the kitchen calmed him, conversations over cooking helped pass the time, and he enjoyed the process of making a hearty meal.
Jamil had a penchant for watching your every reaction as he tried out his meals. He claims he didn’t do too much to the meal; yet, he’d experiment a little more with his cooking, adding more spices or sweetness to enhance the flavor, adjusting the amount of ingredients to amplify an ingredient or two - all to impress you, a thought he wouldn’t dare voice out if he were given all the riches in the world.
Your enjoyment of the meal was enough for Jamil - he was doing just fine with his cooking, and if he wanted to put his heart into it, he could. You offer a piece of the food he had made, a pleading expression resting upon your features. Your little gesture had reminded him to taste test his work, a rule he almost always forgets after he finishes cooking. Jamil had a small inkling that your reaction was an exaggeration, but upon tasting his food, he finally understood what you meant. Truly, your palette was immaculate, he thinks to himself as he revels in the fruits of his labor.
a/n: happy pride month!!!! vil's pronouns in this piece will be he/him for ease of narrative
content: child actor! rival! reader x vil (featuring neige lablanche) | fluff | book 7 content
wc: 2,2k
Vil had experienced award shows before. Ever since he entered the industry as a child, he had walked in multiple award ceremonies with his father, both father and son hand in hand to the red carpet, the arranged seats occupied by dazzling celebrities he could name on top of his head - his co-stars and even directors- and the glittering stage beaming with spotlights. He had watched his father accept many an award for his work, shower gratitude and platitudes to his co-stars and those who supported his journey. In his young mind, an aspiration bloomed within Vil that he, too, would take home an award.
They say that hard work pays off; Vil spent every moment of his waking hours honing his acting, his physique, and his visage, never letting himself slip even for a moment to achieve the most perfect act. To falter meant to set himself for failure; everything was meant to build upon his journey to achieve his ambition.
You, on the other hand, watched him flourish behind and in front of the cameras; watching an otherworldly bewitching beauty, blonde locks with intertwining lavender, embody the caricature of a desperate antagonist hellbent on the prospect of moral evil to the unnerving rival who sought nothing but the destruction and downfall of the protagonist, all roles that he played beautifully, flawlessly and emotionally - not a singular mistake in sight. Or so you believed.
You featured with Vil a couple of times in a handful of shows and movies, playing as a friend or a unique henchman, minor roles that transitioned you from your childhood acting career to roles that slowly integrated you into the industry as a young adult. Back when you were kids, Vil held himself to a high standard, rehearsing until he perfected his lines, his acting evoking more than just what the director provided, his character coming to life in a single moment of his projection.
Seeing him act felt like a badge of honor, watching passion manifest into his work, the embodiment of flawlessness. As young as you were, you saw Vil as your competition and your inspiration to improve your acting. Though time had run its course as the two of you parted ways upon beginning high school, you focused on your studies while maintaining roles in drama, trying to break away from roles similar to those from your childhood. It was hard work to branch away from the childhood ego many in your audience grew up knowing; backlash and disbelief came from every which way, with distraught ‘fans’ urging a return to your previous roles.
Regardless of the noise, you kept going, not wanting to go back, only wanting to go forward as the path before you led to Vil.
The bitter chill of winter brought forth festivities, beckoning celebration and merriment, the time for families to gather together under one roof. To those in the entertainment world, award season was in full swing, the time when the general populace nominates movies and shows that appealed to them the most, the very stage where recognition and fame befall upon creatives, where the works deserve the definition of artistry on the bigger stage. This was where you crossed paths with Vil once more; now a refined young man, even more handsome than when you saw him last.
You two are no longer childhood actors sharing the same screen, but now, grown and refined actors of your own sectors. In the ceremony, Vil had his own seat, his father elsewhere with his fellow co-stars from a movie he recently did, while you sat across from him, a few seats down, where you could wave a greeting. You peek your head out, waving a greeting to him out of courtesy.
Recognition flashes in his violet eyes, a small smile tugging his lips when he sees you. With minutes to spare before the festivities began, he quickly moved over so you wouldn’t trouble yourself getting up from your seat.
“It’s been a while, [Reader].”
You exchange pliant kisses on the cheek, an affectionate greeting between former co-stars.
“Haven’t seen your pretty face since our child acting days. Fancy seeing you here. Are you winning an award tonight?”
A light chuckle utters from his lips, a smile gracing his features in earnest.
“I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t been nominated. Are you here with a date or is your date someone in the industry who is winning an award tonight?”
Your lips tug to a bashful smile upon his comment.
“Oh no, it’s just my manager and me. We got nominated!”
Knowing Vil, he, too, saw you as competition, another challenge to improve his acting. Yet, tonight, where one award would be given to one actor alone in a sea of faces, Vil had a sliver of hope that you could win it.
“That’s wonderful to hear, [Reader]! What’s the category?”
“Best Lead Actor in a Drama!”
Vil couldn’t suppress his delight; in the years you haven’t been acting together, Vil kept an eye on your work, watching you grow from his screen to magazines to guest appearances in shows. You walked similar paths since your hard work forging paths to fruition - even the way you selected roles for your next project.
“I’m sure you’ll win it tonight, [Reader]. Your performance in the TV drama you did was spectacular - though I do think you could do better.”
“Really?”
You scoff, jabbing him with an elbow.
“At least the Vil Schoenheit knows what I need to improve on. I heard you got nominated in two categories!”
Vil preens himself, his beauty at full display.
“Why, of course, from the same movie. I have no doubt that the director put in a good word for me.”
An affectionate giggle huffs from your lips; Vil truly used his star power for everything, including connections.
“Vil! There you are!”
A bright voice drops the temperature in the room by several degrees, chills running down your very spines. In your years of acting together, you two shared a common rival: the superstar actor, Niege LeBlanche, innocent and hard-working, or so many tabloids declare. You and Vil exchange tacit glances before greeting him:
“Niege, it’s so good to see you!”
The way Vil responded so cheerily, matching Neige's energy, made you puke inside. He really had a knack for acting. Rich brown eyes accompanied an angelic visage that would make one’s heart melt at first sight, falling upon you, the smile widening into a more radiant expression.
“[Reader], you’re looking beautiful as ever!”
He takes your hand, bestowing a kiss on your knuckles.
“It’s a pleasure to see you as well, Niege. You’re dashing as ever.”
You could think of a better adjective to describe Vil than Niege, but dashing sufficed.
“I haven’t done much at all, [Reader]. Why, I just came from my part-time job and went here straightaway!”
To an ordinary citizen, one would applaud the young actor as a young man working hard to fulfill his dreams, juggling gigs and part-time jobs to get by; but in the eyes of experienced actors like you and Vil, such a fib tetter-tottered on the line of arrogance, stoking your egos the wrong way where it seemed that Neige had utilized his charms more than talent to get by. Who knows how many hours you two had combined to achieve such heights in the entertainment world..
As if a spell had been cast, the lights dim, the orchestral music crescendos, and spotlights coalesce into a single spot upon the stage as a charismatic host, a veteran of the comedic field, smiles before the camera. The night of the award ceremony had just begun.
While Neige excused himself to sit with his seven companions, you and Vil sit next to each other the entire night, sitting at the edge of your seats, itching for one of your names to be called for an award. Each category listed a couple of actors Vil had worked with, ones who he trusted would put a good word in if he played the cards right; actors who you also worked with, those who witnessed you bloom behind the camera and saw you more than just the child actor who was secondary to Vil.
Soon, the ceremony came to its final categories: Best Lead Actor in a Drama, Best Supporting Actor in a Drama, and Top Excellence Actor. You and Vil exchange nervous glances - those categories were the very ones you and Vil were nominated in, and no doubt, so was Neige. Out of three, you and Vil hoped each would come home with a trophy in hand. Your hands intertwine, the warmth of your palms engulfing each other in a tight embrace.
“Starting with the Best Lead Actor in a Drama, the nominees are Vil Schoenheit for Incantations and Hexes, [Reader] for Reincarnated as a Villainess’ Bridesmaid, and Neige LeBlanche for Love in Magic.”
You tighten your grip on Vil’s hand, itching close as if wanting to hear a sliver of a name from the host. He opens the envelope with measured hands, his eyes dancing in delight as he reads from the very letter from the missive.
“[Reader] from Reincarnated as a Villainess’ Bridesmaid!”
Disbelief tides you over as applause explodes all around you, your gaze fixated upon Vil.
“Wait, I won?”
A smile tugs on your former co-star’s lips.
“Yes, [Reader]. You won, congratulations. Now go, take the award and give your speech.”
The moment felt too real to be true as he guides you out of your seat, gathering your skirts from behind and letting you walk upon the stage. Dazzling lights cloak your silhouette as you don a practiced smile and a hurried speech that you hoped was coherent. Now, wielding a symbol of your hard work, you return to your seat in bliss.
“Your turn, Vil. Hope you earn more trophies than me.”
He scoffs at your words, yet he couldn’t help but cling to that hope. His gaze goes elsewhere and returns to the stage. Vil could only hope. He must’ve been lost in his thoughts when you jolt him out of his stupor, elation written on your face.
“Vil, you won Top Excellence Award!”
“H-huh?”
Now it was your turn to get Vil up on the stage.
“Get up there, Vil! Get that award and give that speech! You deserve it!”
His mind barely computed anything, only the fact that he managed to best Neige on an award. It was like a dream come true. He sorts his thoughts out, fishing for a polished, almost perfect statement of gratitude.
“I’d like to thank my manager, my father, and most importantly, the very people who had worked with me, from the directors who believed in me to help create the art they make to my fellow co-stars who helped me shine in every which way that was possible. I wouldn’t be here without them.”
His gaze locks onto you, which earns a bashful smile from you.
“As a child, I’ve been here with my father, where he had taken home many an award. Now, I stand before everyone, with a trophy at hand, the very first out of many that I have acquired through my hard work. I, Vil Schoenheit, will look forward to working with you all and being the exemplar of an excellent actor as this award entails.”
The speech sends ripples of awe across the crowd, applause trickling in cascades as Vil bows deeply before the audience. He basks in the feeling a little longer, tears threatening to fall down his cheeks. It was all his hard work that got him the very award, the recognition as an actor; with the Top Excellence Award, well, he couldn’t simply stop there - he had to keep going.
He approaches Neige, the baby-faced actor, showering his colleague with a flurry of congratulatory statements. But Vil wasn’t here for the applause; rather, he came for a statement:
“Why, thank you, Neige. Let me remind you that I do not intend to stop after this award. I will keep on improving until I have bested you in every category. Let’s give it our all.”
Neige, all with a pleasant smile on his face, returns the sentiment,
“I look forward to your improvements, Vil! You’re always so cool and hard working.”
Sickening words from a sickeningly sweet face. Vil would rather hear that from you than Niege.
“Very well.”
Vil returns to his seat, his resolve stronger than ever. To become the best there was, he had to ensure his routine reflected it, and starting tonight, he shall make those changes befitting of the very best.
“Shall we dedicate a toast to this occasion, Top Excellence Actor?”
Vil feels a jab on his ribs from your tease. He couldn’t help but go along with you, another rival whom he had the privilege to call a friend.
"No alcohol tonight, [Reader]. But perhaps we shall have a lovely dinner together after this."
He says, with a smile that comes naturally compared to his rehearsed demeanor for the cameras. You and Vil clink your trophies together before taking out your phones for a cute commemorative selfie to mark this very occasion.
Note: rom-com vibes | afab reader | iroh intervention | making up for lost time | fluff
WC: 2,7k
a/n: by the time of me posting this, I’m finally free from the exam and my sanity worn thin. We ball
Wandering the bustling Republic City, a place that has seen an explosion of refugees since the Hundred-Year War, felt like walking into a whole other world. Vendors shouting their wares, little children prancing about with their parents in hand, and benders and non-benders sharing the same space, all cultures of the nations fusing into a melting pot. Amongst them was [Reader], once a teenager who left home to join the Avatar to end the Hundred Year War, who had blossomed into a young adult, their mishaps and journey molding them into the very person they are. They run their hand through their hair, an unconscious habit that catches the attention of a citizen, a youth with too much time on his hands, who gives them a flower.
“For the pretty lady.” A flirt that catches [Reader] off guard. They eye the youth warily; the boy was off to no good, flirting with the wrong people older than him. They mutter a thanks before the boy takes off, blending in with the crowd.
Well, someone is quite ambitious today.[Reader] stipulates as they inspect the flower, a rare panda lily picked only from the crown of a dormant volcano. The fool really thought of picking a poor soul for their whims, as the thought of tossing the flower would rid [Reader] of the strange encounter.
Just as they’re about to toss the flower, they glimpse a familiar sight: Aang being the obvious with his airbending tattoos; quite strange to see the airbender, fully fledged Avatar, shot up like a beanstalk over the years. There is something in the air for those Airbenders, you thought to yourself.
Behind him, you spot the others, Katara and Sokka, along with Toph. It was years ago that you went adventuring with them to save the world, and now, the sea of time had forked your paths elsewhere, only to lead you back to them as old friends. Out of the corner of your eye, you glimpse yet another familiar face:
Cape flapping behind him, decked out in Fire Nation regalia, was Zuko, or Fire Lord Zuko. Out of everyone in the group, Zuko had changed the most, especially with his hair; his aura had waned from an angsty teen whose temper was as short as his topknot, but now, as Fire Lord, his temper had eased, befitting a dignitary.
One could wonder what his hair routine was after growing it out to rival any other girl’s. The Fire Nation must really like their hair—one thought. Katara and Aang behave the same, but their PDA has been upgraded since you last saw them. Toph, you’ve heard many rumors about her Metalbending Academy being the talk of the town, with many an Earthbender in the Earth Kingdom and Republic City. One could only imagine how many students she had taken in recently. Either way, she could whip those tenderfoots to shape into their fullest potential, including Aang himself.
Sokka approaches you, wringing you in:
“Whoa there, we got a dangerous woman in our presence. Who is the lucky guy?”
“Some guy just gave me a rose - he wasn’t even that good looking. Can a girl ask the Fire Lord to burn it?”
You tilt the flower to Sokka and Zuko’s direction, to which they give you quizzical looks.
Zuko shakes his head, placing the flower behind your ear.
“Maybe they gave you the flower for free. It wouldn’t hurt to keep it.”
Sokka remarks. Zuko, with the quiet grace of a lord, takes the flower out of your hand and tucks it behind your ear, a small smile dancing upon his lips.
“It’s a rare panda lily. Keep it, you are beautiful.”
To hear Zuko say something so brazen made you pause; even Sokka was shocked. One would have to question if the throne had honed his tongue too - another thought for later. Sokka clears his throat, an attempt to dissipate the awkward tension.
“Well, since Zuko has been improving his game, we've got a mission on our hands.”
“If the gang is all here, I must presume we’re in for something cataclysmic.”
You perk an eyebrow to Aang. A sheepish expression befalls the Avatar’s face. Not that you minded; an adventure with the Avatar was the perfect antidote to your monotonous days of working - saving the world was another perk, too.
“Well, you’re not wrong.”
You muster a smirk. Just like the good ol’ days.
“I’m in.”
---
The sun-kissed skies are a familiar sight in your adventures; you take in the idyllic breeze as rays of sunlight peek through clouds in fractals. Though time had passed between you and your friends, the stories flowed abundantly, relaying shared memories and new experiences beyond the group. Once you were a group of teenagers traveling together with Aang, mastering the four elements as the Avatar, seeing the sights from the Water Tribe, Earth Kingdom, Air Temples, and the Fire Nation, there was nowhere you didn’t go with Appa flying everyone to and fro. Even after ending the Hundred-Year War, there were still the friendships you shared with everyone, especially with Zuko, whom you had secretly harbored feelings for.
When Sokka told a joke or embellished a story beyond belief, you snuck a glance at Zuko, watching for a smile to befall his lips. Time had certainly treated him well; once a moody teenager whom you butted heads with, now a poised Fire Lord who commanded honor and dignity. You wondered what changed him, or if time had changed him at all. A hypothesis you kept to yourself, when Appa lands at the point of destination - the outskirts of the Earth Kingdom.
“Listen up, everyone. I’ve heard from the Earth King that his people are encountering wild spirits in these areas. This will be dangerous, but I will trust you all to help out with the King and his people.”
Aang debriefs on the matter, dismounting from his Air Bison with his airbending.
“So you want us to help babysit the king?”
Sokka asks brazenly.
“No, we’re going in together to deal with this mess.”
“Lovely.” You mutter to yourself, glancing over to Zuko. His presence as the Fire Lord might entail some international dispute, but he was here to help, as a friend helping another.
—
Aang’s intel had to be wrong, or someone had deliberately given him the wrong information when everyone arrived at the destination. What seemed to be an abandoned village, eerily quiet with nothing, not even a cry from a bird, became a battleground - burly, hostile Earthbenders ambushed your group, tumbling rocks at your direction.
You counter their attacks by aiding the team as much as you can until an Earthbender nails you down with a slab of earth, the impact leaving you incapacitated.
Zuko was the first to notice your collapsed form, his voice booming across the field.
“Katara, check on [Reader]! I’ll go fend them off!”
“That’ll leave a bruise.”
You let out a snarky remark, to which Katara spares you a concerned glance, not too common she’d hear a sarcastic remark coming from you.
“Don’t move.”
Katara warns, bending a trail of water to your ribcage where it glows a pearlescent turquoise. You wince, pain blooming from your ribs as the water seeps into your system, mending every cell of your body until the pain ceases.
“Thanks, Katara.”
The water mends your ribs; your lungs regain their turgor when you let out a breath, the pain from before nonexistent.
“All good, let’s go, [Reader].”
She helps you up with an arm.
“Everything is taken care of, princess. Don’t worry about us.”
Just as Katara helped you up, Toph and Zuko walk over to you, luckily unscathed from the mess, behind them a battlefield of rock formations, scorch marks, and collapsed Earthbenders. You couldn’t help but remark:
“Aww, none for me?”
“Sorry, princess. Looks like you lucked out.”
Toph punches your deltoid - hard and true, jolting your equilibrium.
“Toph, stop that. You’re hurting her.”
“It’s fine, Katara. I can manage.”
You attempt a small smile for the Waterbender, who doesn’t seem convinced by your response.
“If you’re that energetic to bicker, I’d say that you’re doing okay then.”
Zuko remarks. The two of you lock eyes, and you send a feeble smile in his direction. He smiles back, a quiet exchange that those who can see pick up. Toph, on the other hand, chose not to speak upon quickened heartbeats with her senses.
---
The quaint town you’ve stumbled upon was a ramshackle attempt at an Earth Kingdom village, where displaced and disgruntled citizens of Ba Sing Se relocated and found a home, yet resorted to pillaging other neighboring villages for their resources. After a dispute between the Avatar, Toph Beifong, and the Fire Lord, your assailants begrudgingly held a truce, with the notion that the Beifong family shall provide the necessary resources they need until they can stand on their own. After the affair was over, you and your friends decided to swing by Iroh’s Jasmine Dragon, a now bustling center of tea, Pai Sho, and passing delights in a quaint shop.
The day’s events are another chronicle of your adventures as you share warm laughter with your peers. Your glances at Zuko were frequent, watching for his every reaction, his laughter, or any slip in his Fire Lord poise, your heart swelling in the meantime. The stories never ceased, as everyone, including you, shared memories of their adventures in their respective lives - though it seemed familiar from missives through messenger hawk.
Tonight, your curiosity honed in on the Fire Lord himself: though he had been quiet the whole night, you couldn’t help but speculate what had happened to the angsty teenager who hunted Aang down after all those years. The throne had changed him, seemingly so with his hair flowing past his shoulders and a countenance that commanded poise and charisma, the teenager with an irate temper was no more.
“So, getting bored of ruling the Fire Nation, Fire Lord Zuko?”
The title rolls strangely off your tongue, one that Zuko responds to with a deadpan.
“You and Aang keep on saying that, I’m starting to wonder what you two think of what a Fire Lord does.”
“Well.. You call the shots, making new laws and protecting your people. I’m sure you’re doing a decent job of ruling anyway.”
“Thanks.”
He mutters a clipped affirmative, partaking of a sip of his tea. His gaze never seemed to leave you, as you too had taken a sip of tea.
“So.. how’s Mai?”
A sheepish expression befalls him, a face reminiscent of the boy you knew a long time ago.
“We broke up a long time ago.”
Disbelief weighs on your expression.
“What do you mean, you broke up?! Didn’t you two click?”
Zuko’s frown deepens.
“Well, it’s more like I didn’t treat her right. I kept on doing things without talking to her properly, and well, she was right that I needed to open up.”
You let a frown curl on your lips.
“Here I thought you and Mai would get married after you became Fire Lord. I’d envision a great wedding in red and black with you and Mai.”
Zuko chuckles drily at your comment.
“You’ve quite the imagination, [Reader].”
“A girl can dream.”
You preen yourself, earning a chuckle from Zuko. A comfortable silence reigns between the both of you as your gazes land upon your friends bustling around - Sokka painting yet another picture of everyone gathered around; Aang and Katara flirting between sips of tea, the young monk towering over the Water Tribesmen, Suki peeking over her boyfriend’s shoulder with a complication expression, and Toph lounging freely next to Sokka, basking in the moment with her eyes closed.
In your eyes, the efforts of stopping the Hundred Year War were truly worth it, seeing everyone immersed in idyllic bliss after stopping evil for the day. It felt nice, a remnant of the good ol’ days. You feel a bolt of courage surge in your chest, perhaps the tea or the atmosphere clouding your conscience as a question, a stupidly bold one, slips from your lips.
“Might I ask if the Fire Lord would like a second chance? I think I know a person who is open and ready to mingle.”
You glance over to your companion, a look of curiosity lingering in his honey-tinged eyes.
“Whatever do you mean, [Reader]?”
Perhaps he saw through your charade, or he wanted you to continue making a fool of yourself; either way, you felt the tip of your ears burning.
“Oh, a friend of a friend was just wondering about it. You do seem busy with your Fire Lordy stuff that the people are wondering if the Fire Lord ever has time for romance.”
A sliver of the irate boy slips past the carefully maintained poise with a deadpan expression.
“Don’t patronize me, [Reader]. Of course, I do have a love life outside the court. It’s a matter of time before...”
Iroh comes in with a fresh batch of tea, taking away empty cups quickly, all with a smile on his wizened face.
“Of course, my nephew is in the market, [Reader]! You don’t have to beat around the bush! Matter in fact, I believe Miss [Reader] here is quite interested in you, my nephew. Best of luck!”
The timing of his intervention was both a blessing and a curse; such is the plight of doting parents. You quickly look away, feigning ignorance as you twirl your hair while Zuko, turning a shade quite similar to the color of the scar tissue on his left eye, looks the other direction, now at a loss for words. He glares daggers at his uncle’s backside before returning to his former demeanor.
“You were saying, [Reader]?”
You let out a sigh, a breath that admitted defeat upon the whims of the great Uncle Iroh. That older man really couldn’t keep secrets, especially when it came to his precious nephew.
“I’m saying that I like you, Zuko.”
You dare not look him in the eye; spirits know what would happen if you do.
“You have a funny way of showing that, [Reader].”
Zuko’s hand finds purchase on your chin, coaxing your gaze over to him. The Firebender must’ve done some form of sorcery doing that, as you felt the temperature of the room spike to the heat of the Si Wong Desert, your throat parched upon the sight of the Fire Lord before you. Your breaths mingle, telltale fragrance of osmanthus and jasmine wafting about. His gaze was searing, burning into your very being as if testing the very core of you with those eyes that evoked morning light and burning twilight.
“Say it again for me, pretty girl.”
His words were a low whisper, his warm breath ghosting against your skin. Never in your fantasies or your wildest dreams did you envision Zuko doing this to you, a picture of quiet dominance and assertion. Your friends lounging in the background were no more, just the two of you, Fire Lord Zuko and [Reader], entrapped in a telltale cage of a shared friendship and buried feelings. Silence threatens to cling to your throat, your lips shaping the very words you’ve been keeping inside your heart for years.
“I like you, Zuko.”
“Atta girl.”
A satisfied smile curls on his lips, his fingers dropping from your chin as a large hand hovers over yours. He keeps his gaze fixated on you as he bestows a gentle kiss upon your knuckles, a declaration of his intent to you.
“And I like you too, [Reader].”
“Wow, and everybody’s dating each other, great. Sokka, you owe me some pork buns for this!”
Toph’s voice cuts through the romantic atmosphere; the astonished faces of your friends are all laid bare once you catch yourselves from your stupor.
“Great, another Team Avatar romance in the making. Toph, you’re next!”
Sokka retorts, his witticisms yet again adding merriment to the mix. Upon the declaration of a new romance, you and Zuko share shy glances before lacing your hands together, the feelings from long ago realized years later.
Author's note: brother, I'm on a roll with my writing as of late, we are so back.
It’s the small unexpected moments that catch their heart to quicken, heat rushing up their cheeks when you give them a little more love than what a friend would do.
Though Toph couldn’t quite see as everyone else does, she could ‘see’ everyone from sensing vibrations by her feet, detecting one’s heartbeat when they lie or tell the truth, from when they get flustered or are calm as a turtleduck. It’s useful as a tool against an enemy, but for Toph, a blessing in disguise.
With this ability, she recognizes your heartbeat, a calming, rhythmic percussion she listens to before turning in for the night. A fact she never tells anyone openly is that she always falls asleep to your heartbeat, taking a few moments to listen to the lub-dub from her feet, the steady rhythm of safety and calm.
Toph rarely doles out affection, and when she does, she is quick to punch them in the deltoid, earning pained grimaces from her companions. You don’t wince upon this exchange, reciprocating her affection quickly with a punch of your own.
What seemed to be a token of affection became so much more between the two of you, and that moment clicked with Toph the most, that you both shared a much deeper connection, much more than friends.
Zuko
In the Fire Nation, hair meant bearing one’s honor on one's shoulders, a symbol of nobility and elegance. Zuko, since taking the throne, had long restored his honor in stopping the Hundred Year War and, in turn, restoring the honor of the Fire Nation, his hair being the embodiment of that. To you, his hair was the perfect canvas for experimentation: braiding, a ponytail, or a questionable up-do that elicited snickers from your peers.
As a teen, he’d grumble on the excessive tugging on his locks, but never once telling you to stop - it had been a while since someone did his hair, so he let you be. Yet, with his hair going past his shoulders, he once again became the target of more creations from you. He quite missed that feeling, the way your fingers comb through his scalp, grabbing purchase of his locks to create a braid or two. As you work your magic, a small smile spreads across his lips, affection and nostalgia blending.
Another habit Zuko catches you doing is preening your hair back when no one is looking. Either a way of resetting yourself to the present or a way to quell your temper, Zuko finds it quite.. hot. The way you run your fingers through your hair in tandem with your meditative breaths sheds a light of vulnerability about you, not wanting to burst your temper and inflict harm on your friends, so with this, you let it go, throwing frustrations to the wind.
In this moment, Zuko admired that, years ago, he was once a very temperamental teenager, prone to throwing fireballs every which way when things went south, but thanks to the guidance of his Uncle, he learned to temper his temper and find balance within himself. Perhaps this ritual of yours was a way to achieve balance within yourself. Either way, he couldn’t help but steal a few glances your way when he sees you doing it.
Katara
Your presence carried a gravitas that united everyone as one; your words, too wise to be from a teenager, ignited inspiration in everyone to take part in stopping the war alongside Aang, her gaze lingering for a moment longer than everyone else's as their morale was as high as the sky.
Katara was wary of her affinity for charismatic, confident individuals, but you were different. You spoke about bringing good to the world, a cause that was much aligned with hers and the Avatar’s, and so, Katara wanted to have you join the group, to join the greater cause in saving the world. With a wink and a gracious smile, you accept, sending Katara’s heart aflutter.
A leader, in your words, meant helping others, which included helping Katara with the chores. Going on a grand journey with two boys while she was the only girl wasn’t an easy feat, and with you joining the ranks, it made a perfect balance with the group. What she didn’t quite expect was you helping around, quietly asking Katara for tasks or partaking in a chore that required more strength than Katara could handle.
With that gesture, Katara’s heart was thrown off kilter; not only did you speak like a leader, but you acted like one too, assisting those who need it most and supporting each other through what you can do. Oh, Aang and Sokka would have a terrific time witnessing a love story in the making with you and Katara.
Aang
Aang always counts himself a lucky man when he sees you first thing in the morning, a smile dancing upon your lips, the morning sun catching upon your profile. The sheer happiness radiating from you was enough to infect him, his lips tugging from corner to corner.
If only this moment could last him forever, alas, everything moves on, and the world with it- he keeps the image to himself, wanting to find more reasons for you to smile often.
What he loves the most about you is your hugs. The second he sees you, he is heading towards you for a crushing hug, one that lasts too long for a friend.
The hug lasts an eternity, where Aang basks in your warmth, inhales your perfume, and even indulges in nuzzling. Relinquishing earthly desires may be an Air Nomad practice, but he wouldn’t let go of you even for a moment.
Sokka
Sokka considers himself a humble man, or so he thinks. Surrounded by powerful benders such as the Avatar, the self-proclaimed Greatest Earthbender of all time, a powerful waterbender for a sister, and a firelord of a firebender, there was he, the only non-bender. That didn’t discourage him from becoming a leader, enacting plans that his younger self wouldn’t have deemed possible, and saving the world. You, one he considers to be a good friend, listen to his worries with little to no judgment.
Though you were a bender yourself, you listened to him, believing in his capabilities as someone who could provide strategies and countermeasures in case something went awry; you believed in him, just like everyone else, and that made him even more flustered. Yet, you give him feedback, the shortcomings and the good that came out from his decisions, and the lessons he can learn from them, knowing very well that Sokka had grown as a leader.
This was proof that you fully trusted him. Though your words were true, he couldn’t help but feel the stinging reality behind them. What happened prior didn’t need any sugarcoating, but you press that he must focus on what he can do now rather than stress about the past.
Besides, what can a group of youngsters do besides save the world from a cataclysmic doom? You and your friends did it once, and you can do it again Team Avatar style, with Sokka’s sexy brain working his magic once more.
Author's note: we're amping up the drama in this one, hehe~
Content: angst | floyd + [reader] need some time apart
Floyd had a penchant for switching moods at the flip of a switch; there was no telling when he’d be in a jovial mood or in a murderous mood. Anyone who knew him knew better than to question him and his bouts. Today, he was in an exceptional mood, and everyone and their mom knew about it.
Under the neon-bright lights and the cacophony of a chattering jukebox, the couple enters a restaurant, a bright-eyed waitress quickly seating them together in a booth.
“Two hamburgers, large fries, and a vanilla shake, please.”
Floyd orders without a blink, not even sparing a second to look at the menu. Unfazed, the waitress writes down the order and disappears into the kitchen.
“While we’re waiting for the food, let’s talk about how silly I am, hmm?”
[Reader] bit down their lip. Maybe they took the teasing a little too far.
“I must be very silly to be in love with you at first sight, real silly to even try my hand at beating your brother at a silly skating competition, and despite all that, you’re stuck with silly ol’ me.”
The mocking tone in Floyd’s voice almost made [Reader] chortle. He was certainly having fun extracting their statement. To the outsider, it would seem that he took offense to [Reader]’s comment, but it was all in jest, a playful pout curling his lips.
“Oh, come on, Floyd, don’t be like that. You were very funny when you threw yourself all over trying to convince my big brother for my hand. Back then, Big Brother was very much wounded by his loss.”
Floyd’s pout deepens.
“Hmph! I won that contest without even cheating. You know how hard it is not to cheat.”
“Only you would know how to cheat your way into a skating competition, Floyd. You did tell me that you’ve done so at your peak.”
“I will never tell you in detail, other than I’ve cheated.”
Floyd admits smugly. Anyone interacting with the flippant Leech twin would have a headache after exchanging simple words; as for [Reader], they’ve gotten used to his spontaneity. Not even a couple of minutes later, the waitress re-emerges from the kitchen with food, placing plates before Floyd and [Reader]. Without hesitation, the skater partakes in his piece of food, scooting the cup of vanilla shake to [Reader]’s direction.
For a moment, [Reader] thought of wiping the stupid smirk off of Floyd’s face, but the milkshake and extra meal was a truce between the two of them. A respectable silence befalls the two as they relish their meals. Perhaps Floyd’s impatience got the best of [Reader], or they had eaten their meal too quickly, when the youth speaks their mind:
“I’m going to be honest, Floyd. Perhaps we should bring a stop to our fooling around.”
Floyd pauses in his eating, his eyes flitting from his food. The jovial demeanor he had prior melts into something inscrutable. If [Reader] were anyone else, he would squeezed the answer out of them. His mood intensified into cool, profound rage, oozing danger for any onlooker who came his way. To anyone who encountered such a change in atmosphere would flee at the drop of a hat; a fool, on the other hand, would simply watch the rage transform, akin to murderous intent. Such fools would be lucky enough to tell the tale, albeit with a few bruises and scars.
“What do you mean?”
[Reader] was not a fool nor an ordinary passerby; they had seen Floyd’s capricious countenance before - in passing with rumors, embellished in hyperbole for victims who accidentally ticked him off, and in actual encounters, when [Reader] would notice a change in Floyd’s demeanor over something trivial. They wish such a moment like this were something both friends could look back on and laugh about.
Floyd’s impatience grew as [Reader] hesitates, seeing danger lurking within those eyes. Flattery wouldn’t get them anywhere, so they spoke carefully, carefully choosing words that they hoped appeased him:
“What I mean by that is we should take a break from our relationship, Floyd. We haven’t been going anywhere since dating..”
Dating as in betting their hand from their big brother and Floyd’s fight, and accidentally fostering sentiments towards the Leech twin. [Reader] felt, although Floyd won that fight fair and square, that he wasn’t taking their relationship seriously; rather, in their mind, he simply didn’t know what to make of their relationship other than just a distraction from his day-to-day life. It felt like he was adrift, his capabilities dependent on his frequent mood shifts. Such temperance made [Reader] fearful about Floyd in the real world. Was love nothing but a chore to him, or were they just a plaything for Floyd to attach to and dispose of the next thing? [Reader] hoped it wasn't the latter.
His expression darkens, his lips curling to a deep frown.
“Oi, I don’t like where this is going,”
“Believe me, Floyd, I don’t like where I’m going with this either.”
They bite their lip, already regretting what they just said.
“Are we breaking up then? Because I’m lame and not doing anything besides cleaning up Azul’s messes?!”
Floyd’s words stabbed at [Reader]’s dignity, each point causing them to wince. That statement alone already answered his question. No words came out of their mouth; they had overstepped.
“Floyd..”
The words to rebuke their point lay at the tip of their tongue, truthful remarks that would inflict more wounds onto Floyd’s dignity - and temper. [Reader] wished not to incite it more, for it was the truth and nothing more. Instead, they heave a breath, a horrible feeling coiling up in their chest.
“It would be easier for us, Floyd. To figure out what we want to do with each other and our lives.”
A bitter smile curls on their lips, the smile more to comfort themselves than Floyd. He doesn’t respond, his expression unreadable as he chows down the rest of his meal.
“I’ll go ahead and pay."
They take off, not once looking back. Floyd says nothing, his blank gaze on the empty seat across from him.
Author's note: brother, I'm on a roll with my writing as of late, we are so back.
It’s the small unexpected moments that catch their heart to quicken, heat rushing up their cheeks when you give them a little more love than what a friend would do.
Though Toph couldn’t quite see as everyone else does, she could ‘see’ everyone from sensing vibrations by her feet, detecting one’s heartbeat when they lie or tell the truth, from when they get flustered or are calm as a turtleduck. It’s useful as a tool against an enemy, but for Toph, a blessing in disguise.
With this ability, she recognizes your heartbeat, a calming, rhythmic percussion she listens to before turning in for the night. A fact she never tells anyone openly is that she always falls asleep to your heartbeat, taking a few moments to listen to the lub-dub from her feet, the steady rhythm of safety and calm.
Toph rarely doles out affection, and when she does, she is quick to punch them in the deltoid, earning pained grimaces from her companions. You don’t wince upon this exchange, reciprocating her affection quickly with a punch of your own.
What seemed to be a token of affection became so much more between the two of you, and that moment clicked with Toph the most, that you both shared a much deeper connection, much more than friends.
Zuko
In the Fire Nation, hair meant bearing one’s honor on one's shoulders, a symbol of nobility and elegance. Zuko, since taking the throne, had long restored his honor in stopping the Hundred Year War and, in turn, restoring the honor of the Fire Nation, his hair being the embodiment of that. To you, his hair was the perfect canvas for experimentation: braiding, a ponytail, or a questionable up-do that elicited snickers from your peers.
As a teen, he’d grumble on the excessive tugging on his locks, but never once telling you to stop - it had been a while since someone did his hair, so he let you be. Yet, with his hair going past his shoulders, he once again became the target of more creations from you. He quite missed that feeling, the way your fingers comb through his scalp, grabbing purchase of his locks to create a braid or two. As you work your magic, a small smile spreads across his lips, affection and nostalgia blending.
Another habit Zuko catches you doing is preening your hair back when no one is looking. Either a way of resetting yourself to the present or a way to quell your temper, Zuko finds it quite.. hot. The way you run your fingers through your hair in tandem with your meditative breaths sheds a light of vulnerability about you, not wanting to burst your temper and inflict harm on your friends, so with this, you let it go, throwing frustrations to the wind.
In this moment, Zuko admired that, years ago, he was once a very temperamental teenager, prone to throwing fireballs every which way when things went south, but thanks to the guidance of his Uncle, he learned to temper his temper and find balance within himself. Perhaps this ritual of yours was a way to achieve balance within yourself. Either way, he couldn’t help but steal a few glances your way when he sees you doing it.
Katara
Your presence carried a gravitas that united everyone as one; your words, too wise to be from a teenager, ignited inspiration in everyone to take part in stopping the war alongside Aang, her gaze lingering for a moment longer than everyone else's as their morale was as high as the sky.
Katara was wary of her affinity for charismatic, confident individuals, but you were different. You spoke about bringing good to the world, a cause that was much aligned with hers and the Avatar’s, and so, Katara wanted to have you join the group, to join the greater cause in saving the world. With a wink and a gracious smile, you accept, sending Katara’s heart aflutter.
A leader, in your words, meant helping others, which included helping Katara with the chores. Going on a grand journey with two boys while she was the only girl wasn’t an easy feat, and with you joining the ranks, it made a perfect balance with the group. What she didn’t quite expect was you helping around, quietly asking Katara for tasks or partaking in a chore that required more strength than Katara could handle.
With that gesture, Katara’s heart was thrown off kilter; not only did you speak like a leader, but you acted like one too, assisting those who need it most and supporting each other through what you can do. Oh, Aang and Sokka would have a terrific time witnessing a love story in the making with you and Katara.
Aang
Aang always counts himself a lucky man when he sees you first thing in the morning, a smile dancing upon your lips, the morning sun catching upon your profile. The sheer happiness radiating from you was enough to infect him, his lips tugging from corner to corner.
If only this moment could last him forever, alas, everything moves on, and the world with it- he keeps the image to himself, wanting to find more reasons for you to smile often.
What he loves the most about you is your hugs. The second he sees you, he is heading towards you for a crushing hug, one that lasts too long for a friend.
The hug lasts an eternity, where Aang basks in your warmth, inhales your perfume, and even indulges in nuzzling. Relinquishing earthly desires may be an Air Nomad practice, but he wouldn’t let go of you even for a moment.
Sokka
Sokka considers himself a humble man, or so he thinks. Surrounded by powerful benders such as the Avatar, the self-proclaimed Greatest Earthbender of all time, a powerful waterbender for a sister, and a firelord of a firebender, there was he, the only non-bender. That didn’t discourage him from becoming a leader, enacting plans that his younger self wouldn’t have deemed possible, and saving the world. You, one he considers to be a good friend, listen to his worries with little to no judgment.
Though you were a bender yourself, you listened to him, believing in his capabilities as someone who could provide strategies and countermeasures in case something went awry; you believed in him, just like everyone else, and that made him even more flustered. Yet, you give him feedback, the shortcomings and the good that came out from his decisions, and the lessons he can learn from them, knowing very well that Sokka had grown as a leader.
This was proof that you fully trusted him. Though your words were true, he couldn’t help but feel the stinging reality behind them. What happened prior didn’t need any sugarcoating, but you press that he must focus on what he can do now rather than stress about the past.
Besides, what can a group of youngsters do besides save the world from a cataclysmic doom? You and your friends did it once, and you can do it again Team Avatar style, with Sokka’s sexy brain working his magic once more.
What happens when you accidentally call him “babe” featuring first years
Some say it’s a Freudian slip, when your mouth runs faster than your thoughts could process.
Note: established friendship | friends to lovers pipeline | a lot of fluff
Ace Trappola
The second the word slips, regret quickly sets in once you see that smirk on Ace’s lips. He teases you, his tone even mocking the more he eggs you to say it again. This incident enough was traction for him to take initiative than what he had done as a friend.
He catches you off guard when the nickname lingers; greeting you in front of friends, calling over to you when he wants your attention, an act of provocation until you eventually snap, your feathers thoroughly ruffled from his antics.
Ace watches your every reaction, not missing the blush coloring your cheeks - and as the little shit he always is - twists the knife deeper, asking the very question that you two kept unsaid between the both of you.
It was all fun and games when you two banter and bicker, attached to the hip and seemed close to the point that there was no need to describe what you two were.. until the accidental slip.
For a moment, you catch his mask crumbling, his snarky words giving way to a boy who hid away his heart as the world went around. The question comes tumbling out of his lips, one that tugged your heartstrings when you lock eyes with him. From the moment you uttered that nickname, it became a testament of your friendship, your relationship, and ultimately, a crossroads between a realm of familiarity and the point of no return
Deuce Spade
Deuce didn’t think much when he heard you call out for him - only to pause when he thought he misheard. He lets you repeat, uncertain of what you said earlier. You repeat, unbeknownst of your earlier mishap. Deuce processes your words, scratching the incident off as nothing but him mishearing you.
Until he couldn’t help but overthink it late at night. It wasn’t like you to call him something else, right? Sure, nicknames are a thing from you, especially the contact names you had saved for your classmates, but ‘babe’? That one was new.
Poor Deuce spends all night spewing conjectures, to the point where his roommates nag him to go to sleep. It should be a slip-up, right? Right… Deuce drifts off to a dream of you calling him more nicknames, including the one you had accidentally in passing.
He wakes, completely flushed. Now, he wants answers. You couldn’t possibly say that in passing, especially when you share a close friendship with him. He confronts you, hoping that what you had probably said to him was a mistake.
Instead, he lays out his heart, befuddled and somewhat hopeful that you see him more than just a friend.
Jack Howl
His ears don’t fail him when he hears you slip. Upon hearing that, he peers back at you, a curious expression on his face. Knowing you, he knew better than to have you repeat that statement again - rather, he’d keep to himself, the nickname lingering in his mind.
He is quite elated that you’re comfortable enough with him to dole out nicknames, a strange feeling filling his heart, his tail swishing back and forth. Curse his tail, he really liked it, thank you very much.
Thanks to that nickname, he was more than ready to hear more nicknames, even if it would make him more flustered than usual. Sure, his younger siblings would dole out such endearments to call upon their older brother, but it was different with you.
Jack clings onto that memory, the day when you called him a nickname other than his given name, each time he visits, sending butterflies in his stomach. He had to know, truly, if your friendship with him meant something more..
When the time comes, he’d have a nickname prepared just to get back at you, or test out the waters once more with your slip-up, watching every moment of your reaction.
Sebek Zigvolt
This youngster short-circuits, sputters, and even flusters upon hearing you utter such a slip. Even when you correct yourself, it is too late. He looks out with a face of sheer horror, his boisterous demeanor thunderous and even borderline vicious as he demands the reason for a change of address.
Just as he was horrified, you too were horrified. You profusely apologize, shirking away from him as if he were going to enact an act of punishment for your lack of tact. Instead, he stares at you, at a crossroads between anger and embarrassment. He hesitates, much to your relief, and doesn’t press you further.
He turns to Lilia for advice, hoping that the elder knew of the ways of courtship, or friendship in this case. As Lilia attempts to reminisce about youth, his advice comes as a pint of wisdom for Sebek’s cause. He could try to reciprocate back with something as equally as creative as your nickname for him - though there was nothing that could top that off.
He spends the night thinking of something that could top off the nickname. Of course, he had to be competitive about it - his dignity was in the line! Even so, when he finalizes the nickname, he’d be certain to watch your reaction when he doles it out in passing.
The day he approaches you with the tool to your downfall, he comes across the unexpected - not only did you *like* his counter, but you profusely apologized for treading the line of friendship that you two shared. Nevertheless, this whole endeavor made him a fool - of course, the nickname grew on him more than he could admit and that was enough for him to know your feelings.
Epel Felmier
The sudden nickname doesn’t faze him as he responds back with a nickname of his own, not bothering to check back for your reaction. He just knows the intent behind it. Growing up in a tightknit community, he came by as many names from his family, elders, and friends. The nicknames stuck as the years go by, notes of affection from the village who raised.
This sentiment of nicknames stuck by him at Night Raven College, insults, names, and whatnot being a sort of medallion of honor or a plaque brandishing his untold crimes. Before, his temper would pique upon a sliver of insult thrown his way, but after Rook and Vil dole out their teachings, his temper waned, where a nickname of any kind would be a badge of honor.
Coming from you, he’d think not much into it, adding a tally into the plethora of nicknames he has from his home village - though he’d think upon a different nickname, suggesting something other than that one that seemingly dubbed him as a ‘baby’. He’d prefer something more… distinct, more dignifying..
In an odd twist of fate, he calls you by a nickname, one that he had procured at the spur of a moment and solidified his suspicions of your friendship with him. You’d have to be very comfortable to call him something like that, and so, he’d do it back with style.
A boyish smirk curls on his lips as he watches you fluster, wallowing in your confusion upon his declaration that he had so brought on. To him, returning the favor seemed natural, an exchange deemed appropriate between him and a good friend, something born out of affection.
Note: established friendship | platonic | Kalim can’t sleep and wants to go on a joyride and you’re dragged in on it
Evening beckoned crisp, lukewarm air from the desert by the Scarabia dorm, bellowing the draperies, moonlight catching onto iridescent gold and gemstones embossed on gaudy decorations.
In the midst of the quiet dorm, Kalim sat by himself, energy radiating from his body. The urge to break into a dance tempted him, slumber was the last thing on the boy’s mind.
“Kalim, what are you doing up so late?”
His ears pick up on a voice laced with slumber. A carefree smile curls on his lips, shifting his weight to the side where his guest could sit next to him.
“I can’t sleep!”
“Can’t sleep? Did you eat sweets before sleeping, Kalim?”
The smile lingers on your partner’s lips, following a sheepish response,
“Well, you got me. Jamil did make the best knafeh for dinner!”
You recall the platter: a cheesy pastry with a sugary sweetness with notes of pistachio. Jamil outdid himself with the platter, everyone in the dorm, including Kalim and you, emptied the dish within seconds. Though sweet, just a few bites already made you full.
“Are you going to sweat it out, Kalim? The dorm did eat a lot tonight.”
You stifle a yawn, casting your gaze to Kalim. His expression scrunches up in contemplation.
“Well, how about we fly it out? I can get us a magic carpet!”
“Fly it out? Are you crazy?”
“Well, flying around will help us burn off the food! I think Vargas said something about flying being similar to actually exercising.”
Either a teacher’s statement easily swayed Kalim, or Vargas was too full of brawn for his own as a teacher; you couldn’t dispute which one was correct or wrong.
“Are you in?”
Kalim extends a hand to you, anticipation brimming in his ruby-red eyes. Of course, you were the one he’d ask; the timing of your presence and your friendship with him opened an opportunity for him to inquire about a daring adventure. His flippancy never once ceased to amaze you - a dorm leader, of course, shouldn’t be going out when everyone else was sleeping - what would Jamil say about this?
All of your thoughts come to a halt when a sharp whistle sounds across the room. You wince - such a noise could rouse everyone from their sleep. Before you could change your mind, the winds silenced any word of protest, the moon above looking quite closer than usual. You anchor yourself to the fabric of the carpet, adrenaline rushing along your veins. Besides, you hear Kalim whooping joyfully, guiding the carpet to flips, tricks, all sorts of maneuvers you’d think impossible on an enchanted broom.
You withhold every urge to scream, listening to the rushing winds muffle Kalim’s screams - which did little to quell your nerves. In an attempt to quell your nerves, you gaze upon the view below.
Silhouettes of clouds border a canvas of sands stretching far past the eye could see, the Scarabia dorm just minuscule dots in the distance.
It’s beautiful. Your lips mouth admiration as the carpet slows to a drift among the clouds. Kalim leans against you, exhilaration listing on his features. He guides the carpet back to the dorm, the flight taking on a leisurely pace.
“We’re going back. Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Other than feeling a little motion sick, yeah. The view is beautiful.”
You promptly respond, all with clipped words and a small smile. The carpet lands upon the dorm’s grounds, hovering close to the ground where you and Kalim could disembark.
“Did that make you sleepy though?”
On the contrary, I’m actually wide awake.
You subdue the biting remark, only to notice fatigue creeping back into your being, the spell of adrenaline from the flight just a dream. A yawn answers his question.
“C’mon, Kalim, let’s go to bed. We have class first thing tomorrow..”
“We could sleep in the Common Room! There are plenty of blankets and bedding around!”
It seemed as if Jamil’s spirit was lurking among the shadows, a false move could possibly wind up with a distressed second year first thing in the morning.
“How about we go straight to bed, yeah? Your bed is much more comfortable than sleeping in the Common Room.”
“Good idea!”
Kalim echoes, shooing the carpet away. The enchanted cloth shifts towards the treasury, tassels dragging onto the floor as if fatigued from the night’s adventures.
“Night, [Reader]. Thanks for coming with me!”
Kalim spares you a grin, one that rivaled the sun at noon.
“Night, Kalim.”
You return the grin, relishing in the feeling of returning to your own quarters, where the night’s joyride became your dreams, taking flight on cloud nine under the twinkling stars.
Note: suggestive! | thigh riding | adult!zuko x reader!
1,7k words
Evening fell upon the Fire Nation Royal Palace, coloring the skies in fiery oranges and streaks of gold. The hour when the court, once bustling with chancellors and attendants relaying to the Fire Lord of the people’s concerns, now became a quiet sanctuary for Zuko and his elderly Uncle. Formality between dignitaries gave way to a warm, familiar intimacy between loved ones.
“Fire Lord Zuko, how long has it been since we last had tea together?”
“Two weeks, Uncle, but much has changed while you were at Ba Sing Se.”
“Oh, I’m sure the chancellor isn’t giving you a hard time? You should probably think about appointing a new one if you’re complaining this much.”
Zuko sighs before partaking of a sip of tea.
“I wish, but he is excellent at his job, of course. No one like him can get everything in order.. It’s just..”
Zuko’s gaze, his eyes a rich amber of sunrise, wanders elsewhere,
“Just?”
Iroh follows his gaze, where he notices you by the doorframe. Like the others, you were about to turn in for the night when you came across Iroh and Zuko in their evening tea times, their voices echoing from the court chambers.
“[Reader]! It’s so good to see you! Care for a cup of tea?”
You muster a friendly smile, along with a formal bow.
“Fire Lord Zuko, General Iroh. Good evening. I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid I’ll be turning in early, General Iroh.”
You respond sweetly, noting Zuko’s gaze lingering on your person.
“I’ll leave you two to enjoy your tea.”
“Very well. Good night, [Reader]!”
Iroh raises his cup in greeting, his warm smile bidding a dismissal. Zuko, on the other hand, watches you leave, all with a distant smile on his lips.
“Now, where were we, Zuko? Is there something wrong with your marriage?”
In all of his years living, Iroh knew about the troubles of marriage, especially between young, enamored newlyweds. He was young himself, oh so many years ago. With his nephew, to whom he considered to be a son after Lu Ten’s death, he hoped to be of some help.
“Uncle, how can I explain to my life-er, my wife, that I don’t want to force her to bear children?”
Iroh almost spat out his tea. Of all the questions his nephew asked or sought his counsel on, this was by far the strangest.
“You wish to respect her as your duly wedded wife? Is the royal court pressuring you two to bear children?”
Zuko sighs. As always, his uncle’s instinct was on point.
“Yes.”
The Lord concedes, all with a blush coloring his cheeks.
---
The sheets serve as a comforting nest in your abode as you burn candlelight for a book in a slip that lets the cool air kiss your skin from the summer heat. The book was just getting juicy, anticipation unraveling as you unroll the parchment for more. A story of a passionate romance and a world-shaking adventure involving them to solve the world, the many obstacles, including their own relationship, testing their bond as friends, and lovers. It didn’t matter if you stayed up the whole night reading; it was too good to stop reading.
“[Reader]?”
A voice, familiar yet slurry with drink, calls for you from the darkness. In the candlelight, you notice the silhouette of Zuko, dressed in casual attire of blood and golds, his hair tied up in a tight bun. Though you had seen Zuko in his teens traveling with the Avatar, there was always something different with his hair; this time, his hair was much longer than when he was a boy, nearly rivaling yours at length, but still, flattering him nonetheless. Your heart stirred for a moment. Some wedded wife you were, still feeling like a teenager every time you saw your husband.
“Had a good time with your Uncle, my love?”
You coo, regarding your husband with a teasing smile.
“I.. uh…”
His attention was elsewhere, focusing on the exposed skin of your shoulders, the loose garment giving way to your chest, and hiding little imagination for your curves. May the spirits help him with a man’s desire to take you right then and there.
Heat rushes up your cheeks when Zuko lapses into silence, you following his gaze to your chest.
“I.. really like this slip, plus, it’s hot..”
The words begin to fail you the longer your husband stares. You notice the way his amber eyes, the flattering shade of honey, darkened upon your figure, the very eyes you recall on the night of your wedding not too long ago. You attempt to ignore the heat rushing up your cheeks, clearing your throat,
“Are you turning in for the night, Zuko? It’s quite late.”
You wince at how formal the inquiry sounded, but he unhurriedly walks over to you, taking your hand for a gentle kiss on the back of it.
“Yes, wait for me. I don’t plan on sleeping.”
You glimpse a look of yearning from your husband, a look that mirrors the night of your wedding. It seemed that the evening tea time with Zuko had sparked something. Your understanding comes forth in the form of a smirk by your lips, a wicked desire to satiate your husband’s needs brewing within you.
“Of course, my dear husband. I’ll be waiting.”
Zuko was certainly not expecting such a response from you, his cheeks reddening profusely.
---
By the time you reached the end of your novel, Zuko emerged from the bathroom, the essence of bath oils and shampoo wafting about the room. You gaze upon your husband, drinking in his silhouette carved by tiny embers flickering from the lantern by the bedside. Locks of ink tumble down powerful, broad shoulders, his frame oozing with what many could describe as a quiet charisma, or years of firebending training, speak of an unfathomable burden that only he knew, and with your marriage to him, you knew as well. Perhaps it was the novel’s influence or the honeymoon phase that never seemed to leave that made you feel heated down there.
As if anticipating him, you welcome him with open arms:
“I’m all yours for tonight, my love.”
That was enough to break his resolve and take you right then and there, yet, he approaches you gently, his hand seeking yours as he gazes upon your eyes, taking a lock of your hair to his lips, sending shivers down your spine.
“You need not be so..”
You could barely make the words when his hand wraps around your waist.
“So what, [Reader]? So gentle?”
He makes a point as he kisses your forehead, his words laced with affection that your heart swells.
“Y-yes.”
You watch him pile kisses upon your eyelids, your cheeks, your nose, and finally, your lips, where you briefly taste spiced jasmine on his. Yet, just when you wanted more, he pulls away, touching his forehead with yours.
“I want to take it slow tonight, so I can remind you how much I love you.”
He whispers against the shell of your ear, hot breath fanning over skin. You tremble, your innards flipping many times per second from the intimacy.
“As you wish, my love.”
You concede with a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. Though, you had other plans, sitting yourself onto Zuko’s thick thigh, muscled with years of firebending and training; one once dreamed of sitting on his lap during meetings, to feel his presence under layers of cloth and tease him a little bit to the public. One could dream, but tonight, you were going to make the dream come true.
“I’ve been reading this novel and there was a scene that played it where the protagonist does this to their love interest. I was wondering if I can try it out for tonight?”
Mischief crosses your features when you peer at your husband. The devil’s smile falls upon his handsome visage, one that you take as consent, his hands upon your waist.
“Whatever makes you happy, my little turtleduck.”
“Oh, the name-calling is getting out of hand.”
You hum, bucking your hips back and forth, your thighs digging into his flesh as you rub your clothed organ against him. Rubbing yourself against him felt different from the real deal; a warm, prickling sensation crawling down your stomach the more you kept going.
Pleasure came close, your breath running ragged, you let out a whimper,
“Zuko..”
“You’re doing so good for me, my love..”
Your husband purrs, his lips tracing up your neck, his touch amplifying your pleasure as you crook your neck upward for access.
“I can make love to you all night, my everything, my flame..”
Zuko whispers hotly, leaving wet kisses down your clavicle, your breasts, and your navel. His words, though corny, cast a spell upon you, your back arching as a groan slips between your lips.
“Zuko..”
Your eyes meet for a moment, gazing upon the eyes of the sunrise. In tacit understanding, you share a kiss, Zuko laying you down upon silk sheets until you break away, a string of saliva connecting your lips. The respite allows him to rest his forehead against yours.
“Shall we?”
A simple question, yet one that allowed him to ask you, a respectful inquiry that you could answer within your terms.
“Of course. If you say that you’ll make love to me all night, will this mean we’ll be in for a long night?”
You answer with a challenge, wrapping your legs around his waist. Zuko doesn’t hesitate to reply, his answer unhidden by his smile, placing a kiss upon your lips.
“Your wish is my command, beloved Fire Lady.”
---
Extra
The Royal Palace ran abuzz with news, servants whispering excitedly amongst themselves with the latest gossip about the Fire Lord. Officials, including the Chamberlain, had noticed something had changed about their liege but couldn’t put a finger on it.
It was as if he had become more courteous, more approachable when discussing affairs about the nation. At times, they’d catch a smile dance upon Zuko’s lips, perhaps uncharacteristic of his usual demeanor in front of such dignitaries - yet, they kept to themselves, stipulations bubbling from within.
Eventually, the court and the public’s curiosity came to a boil when news of the Fire Lady’s condition spread amongst the servants. It was said that her courses stopped, an indication of an upcoming heir.
Iroh, who had been listening to the milling gossip on the side, smiles sagely, partaking of a sip of tea.
Spending time with Ace would be hanging out in Ramshackle, scrolling on Ace’s phone watching videos or memes while you cuddle together with blankets and snacks.
Silence between the both of you would be commonplace, save for the occasional bickering or comment on an idea you just watched.
Such hangouts would be spontaneous, not even a text or a call, just him showing up at your door and saying whatever, leaving you to protest while you try to make sense of whatever chaos Ace landed himself in. With Ace, you were prepared for the worst - trouble or not.
Your phone would blare of a random meme from his messages, along with a caption that would be endearingly sweet or sarcastic, usually with the themes of a chaotic duo against the world. Ace is what he claims to be a simple man, coming across a meme or random items that remind him of you and texting you in passing.
If he isn’t up to trouble, you two would stay up late at night talking about random topics until he feels he has procrastinated enough on his assignments, and you having to reap the consequences of his yapping.
In moments, when he thinks you’re not looking, he’d look in your direction, gazing upon your profile until he has enough - a pick me up in other words, but an image he’d wish he’d save on his phone when given the chance.
His kisses would be a spur of a motion, ones that he’d lean oh-so-suddenly until you give your consent to bequeath a kiss on the cheek, forehead, or the lips. These would be a dosage of sweetness, swift as if to evade any onlookers from peeking in yet enough to give you a boost of energy, his way of loving you in passing.
I have temporarily left my job to prepare for a major entrance exam scheduled at the end of the month. In the meantime, I have updated my Ko-Fi commission prices for the time being, and feel free to leave a tip or commission me!
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