jaime lannister through the 5 languages of love ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆
jaime lannister masterlist ૮ ・ﻌ・ა
Words of Affirmation: Under the wisecracker attitude and shiny golden hair, hides a little dyslexic lion that is still insecure of his words. He’s quick with witty remarks, but that’s only because they’re a means to survival. When it comes to honest emotions, he’s clueless. After the death of his mother, there was no one left to care in ways that weren’t disguised in life lessons and crude language. His sister and father insisted on reminding him he was stupid and slow, and for a long time, Tyrion didn’t know how to express his brotherly love either. He was constantly reminded that he wasn’t enough. That was, until you came around. With your gentle praises and admiration, you weren’t shy about your love. It felt foreign at first, but quickly became familiar. He longed to hear your approval at the end of a long day. And soon enough, he started experimenting as well, telling you how pretty you were, how smart, how seen you made him feel. If he wasn’t a fan of words of affirmations before, he was now.
Quality Time: Quality time is hard to come by as a member of the Kingsguard and Tywin Lannister’s first born. But he makes sure to make time for you. There’s nothing Jaime likes more than spending his moments with you, so whenever he could, he would take the missions that meant he would be closest to you. If you were royalty, he’d use his wits and charm to manipulate his way into being your personal guard.
Gift giving: As a Lannister, Jaime is no stranger to piles of unpersonal gifts and being bought. For him, gifts have always felt disingenuous until you first brought him a small craft you made. To think you had spent hours working on something just for him touched a part of his heart that had never seen the light before. He came to grow fond of your little gifts and tried to repay the favour as well with makeshift wildflower bouquets. Yet, he never bought gifts as a means to say sorry, as he wanted you to know he truly meant it.
Acts of Service: Oh don’t get me started, that man is literally a knight, his entire life is acts of services. Though his tongue is often pretty loose, he’s not as good with words as people think. He’s well spoken of course, but when it comes to true feelings, it all gets mixed up in his head. So he shows his affection by helping you around. Any little thing that could make your life easier, he entertains. And tough situations too, he’d go to the ends of the world for you. He just genuinely enjoys helping you in anyway he can.
Physical Touch: Ever since he met you, he can’t help but long to be closer and closer to you, finding any excuse to brush past your warmth. It started with an accidental graze of your soft and cold fingertips on his calloused knuckles. One of the flowers in the wild bouquet you seemed to be making fell onto the castle floors and as you both bent down towards the bundle of forget-me-nots, your hands suddenly collided. It took Jaime by surprise, the way his breath caught up in his throat and his heart skipped a beat under your puppy eyed gaze. After that pleasant incident, the knight couldn’t help but chase the feeling.
𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 thank you for reading!! requests are open for my boy jaime! ₊˚⊹ ᰔ join the taglist! ʚ(*´꒳`*)ɞ .｡✧･ﾟ:*
I need more hetero ships where the guy doesn’t like the woman at first—including her appearance—and it’s not the usual ‘ugh, she’s so hot, why does she have to be such a bitch?’ situation. I mean genuine initial rejection. But over time, as he gets to know her and starts to admire her personality, he slowly begins to see her as beautiful too.
Because for me, that’s what real love is—based not on physical attraction, but on being drawn to the soul inside. And when you love that person’s soul, their body starts to look beautiful too. Because beauty is always in the eye of the beholder.
So far, though, I can only think of one couple like that: Jaime and Brienne.
And when I say "hetero couples", it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love to see that dynamic in queer ships too. But I feel like this idea is so deeply ingrained in most straight ships, and in how the majority of people expect them to be portrayed—that a man should ALWAYS be physically and sexually attracted to a woman first and foremost. It’s acceptable if he can’t stand her personality, but the desire has to be there from the very first minute they meet.
Jaime calling Brienne “my lady of Tarth” in front of others gets me every time. Not “the lady of Tarth”, not “Lady Brienne”, but “my lady of Tarth”. Later he doesn’t deny Qyburn’s half joking claim of “your maid of Tarth” either. The possessiveness, hmm. No wonder he’s shocked Brienne hasn’t briefed him on her betrothals when Connington told him about it.
On the whole “Brienne is ugly” discourse (which, yes, she is), there’s something else that always gets lost, especially when we talk about her being worthy of love and sexual desire, and how that ties directly into Jaime.
A lot of the resistance to admitting Brienne is ugly comes from the fact that some people simply cannot accept that Jaime could love her as she is and be sexually attracted to her as she is. There’s this need to frame it as him “looking past” her appearance, as if her body is something he tolerates rather than desires.
And that feeds into a bunch of other bad readings: the idea that their love is somehow “pure” and not carnal, that it’s calm and chaste and grounded, especially when contrasted with his relationship with Cersei, which fandom loves to frame as the real sexual one. It’s also tied to that tired belief that “a part of him will always belong to someone else,” sexually and romantically, that I spoke about the other day.
And this is such a wrong interpretation of their relationship. It’s actually quite funny how fucking wrong it is.
Jaime loves it all. UGLINESS INCLUDED. And more importantly: he’s also attracted to it.
I think that’s what people don’t understand about the concept of “beauty is in the eye of the beholder” in relation to sexual attraction. It’s not that the concept of beauty changes, or that you look at that person and don’t see them for who they are. Is that what people might find ugly and therefore not sexually desirable to them because of that ugliness, it’s precisely the something that you find attractive.
Jaime desires both sides of Brienne. He is attracted to both sides of her.
Yes, he falls for her sweetness, her warmth, her eyes, thinks about comforting her, defends her honor as a lady. This is the easy part for people to swallow.
What people don’t understand is that he’s also attracted to her strength, her muscles, her mouth, her freckles, her height. Everything that makes her undesirable for others… Jaime Lannister is into it. He digs it. It does it for him.
Romantically speaking, I think their relationship will be intense because they’re both people who give love freely but rarely receive it unconditionally. When they finally turn that love toward each other, they will cling to it, feed off it, give themselves over completely.
And when it comes to the sexual aspect of it, I think their relationship will be EVEN MORE carnal than anything either of them ever experienced, especially Jaime.
Jaime isn’t attracted to Brienne because he’s in love with her. He is in love with her and he is attracted to her, and those things are not the same, nor do they depend on each other.
His sexual desire for Brienne surpassed even his “love” for Cersei, almost immediately. Because he wanted Brienne from the very moment he saw her. Jaime wanted her even before he actually liked her.
His attraction to Brienne is not conditioned by his love for her. He wants her. And then he falls in love with her.
And honestly? If anything, even if he never fell in love with her at all, he’d still want to fuck her.
Thinking about the bear pit from Brienne’s POV and going a little crazy.
Like this guy who you never liked (the Kingslayer, the man who has twisted Knighthood and made it a joke) he saves you from being raped, loses his hand, and confesses to you the truth about why he killed the mad king.
And then he leaves.
He leaves you to go home and you’re stuck with the same horrible men who maimed this guy that has began to weasel his way into your psyche. But it’s fine because he’s gone now and you don’t have to deal with it.
And then he just freaking falls out of the sky and saves you from the bear. A knight saving the damsel. (And for once him the knight and you the damsel.) And when you ask him why he came all the way back just to save you he says, “I dreamed of you.”
firelord zuko and his penchant for quick kisses that usually turn to much more, between his duties.
warm hands grappling at the fabric of your dress, eyes soft and focused on the furrow between your brows, cheekily grinning as you tried to pry yourself from his grasp, palms pressed against his chest, firm and insistent. "fire lor—"
"call me by my title and I'll sink to my knees, right now."
you stopped fidgeting, going completely still as you stared at him bewildered, watching as his own eyes widened and warmth blooming on his cheeks as his words registered in his mind.
he shook his head, cheeks rosy and plush, hands slipping from your waist and limply hung by his side, "i didn—" before he could finish, you interrupted.
"you did." you stated, lips pursed together, "you very much did mean that." neither of you spoke for a moment, letting the silence linger, his eyes scanning the wall behind your head, while you focused on him. finally after a beat of silence, you murmured, "shameless."
he pouted, cheeks puffed up as he reached for your wrists this time, tugging both your palms to his chest, "tell me, wife, did you or did you not promise yourself to me under the vast sky?" he huffed, bringing your vows into the conversation.
"...I did." you sighed, defeated as you lean against his chest, hands squished between your bodies, "but that doesn't mean you can have me under it."
"it means, that I, as your husband can give and take as I wish." he voice low and firm, reverberating through your palms, it's authoritative, the same voice that passes commands as the fire lord, "only when I have your permission though, your husband after all."
that's zuko, your husband, not the fire lord, just your zuko.
the reader is another trainer and badass, but in a kind but touch my family and your six feet under.
very brief request + i am tired = bullet points
masterlist
In all honesty, Dauntless is The Place for power couples
Something about the prevalence of intense violence really lends itself to romance, you know?
Needless to say, no one should be surprised that you and Four are held as the stellar examples of a perfect couple
You’re one of the toughest trainers Dauntless has, and Four is, well, Four
When the two of you started dating, people started marking their calendars for the inevitable date at which point you and Four would take over the faction entirely, it seemed inevitable
After all, who could stand against either of you?
Four is fearless, the epitome of strength whenever you look at him
You are the most dangerous person everyone’s ever seen in their lives
It’s a common initiation rite of passage for people to be remade in your class– there’s absolutely nothing they can do to avoid it
Even the initiates who come in thinking they know everything will be swiftly broken down
Four is obsessed with it
He tries to seem cool and unaffected in public, but everyone can tell that he’s hiding the strongest heart eyes of all time under that stoic gaze
Needless to say, with Four behind you there’s nothing you couldn’t do
It’s pretty much everything <3
divergent tag list: @rogueanschel, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria
requested by @manyfandomsfanvergent, i hope you enjoy!
You wake up thirsty in the middle of the night, Dean’s also up. Fluff ensues.
You woke up at one in the morning with a throat so dry it rivaled a desert.
After a long hunt the day before, you didn’t take care of yourself at all, opting instead to change into pjs and flop into bed.
You slowly slipped off the squeaky fold-out and blearily navigated the messy motel room to the connecting bathroom, trying to keep quiet as to not wake Sam or Dean. After a few dixie cups full of water you tiptoed your way back only to run into someone. You stumbled back and looked up to see Dean.
“Why are you up so early?” He questioned, voice rough with sleep.
“I got thirsty. Why are you up?” You retorted quietly and rubbed your eye.
“Had to piss.”
“Sorry for the hold-up.”
“Whatever, go put a movie on. I’ll join in a sec.”
You nodded and the two of you went your separate ways.
The channels were severely lacking in the movie department so late at night, but you found a western that would knock you out quick and keep Dean occupied for a bit before passing out from exhaustion. While you waited for him the blankets and pillows were shuffled to make a nook to tuck in to. Dean returned and crawled into the fold-out beside you.
“Thought you were gonna go back to your bed.” You mumbled.
“Better view.” He murmured back as he shifted closer to you.
“Sure.”
It most certainly was not a better vantage point, but you weren’t gonna complain. His warmth was welcome in the cold room.
The thump of hooves and twang of barely comprehensive dialogue from the tv quickly melted your brain and pulled at your eyes. You were on the verge of dozing when Dean shifted again. He pulled you close, your back to his side and head on his bicep.
“Dean, why’d you move?” You whined and tried to get comfortable again.
“ ‘m cold.” He mumbled.
“No way, you’re literally scorching.”
“I am so shut up.”
“Whatever.”
“Whatever.” He mocked and turned to spoon you, wrapping his free arm around your stomach.
You rolled your eyes and melted into him. As much shit as you gave him, you rarely ever meant it. Especially when he wanted to initiate any sort of touch. Being a hunter was lonely, and both of you were touch starved, so it was a win-win situation when he did.
You eventually got to the point of dozing again, the movie and Dean’s breathing harmonizing into a gentle rumble that soothed your restlessness. When you reached that space of just barely hanging on to consciousness, you felt the press of warm lips against your shoulder and finally fell back asleep.
for your consideration, Logan calling Trix and or Bruce doll / dollface.
do with that as you will.
Hmm yes, okay.
I gift you a small dabble for your idea
Logan was always one for nicknames. It was a second language to him. Didn’t matter if he liked you or not, didn’t matter if you never had one before, you talk to Logan for more than a minute you ended up with a nickname.
It was even worse when you managed to close to the man. Pet names became second nature to Trix at this point. Baby, babe, hun, honey, sweetie, sweetheart, starlight, star bar, twinkle, short stuff, mama, and her most recurrent baby girl. Everyone made her stomach flutter, especially when he’d wrapped those large arms around her from behind and whispered them into her ear, voice dropping an octave as he did. Drove her crazy.
Bruce on the other hand did not approve of them at first. Mostly because they were used against him for a while. Princey, Princess, baby boy, hot stuff, trust fund, pretty boy. Was all thrown at him in mocking tones for the longest time before he realized that it was not ment to mock but to tease.
So when they gained a new one they both perked up to the sweet words being tossed in their directions from the older man.
Doll.
That was new, Trix thought as she watched Logan pull off his flannel shirt in the hot summer heat leaving him in just his signature white tank top. She caught it with ease when he tossed it to her placing it on the back of her lounge chair.
It rolled off his tongue like all the other ones deep and sharp. Like it was just another word in his vocabulary. This one on the other had a bit of that gravel on it, like he was testing it on his lips.
“Baby doll you heard me?” Logan’s gruff voice cut through her analysis.
Trix ran a hand through her short hair, a style she was still getting used to. “Yeah, yeah.”
“What did I say?” Logan tested seeing straight through her poor lie. Crossing his arms over his chest only drawing more attention to the size of his biceps.
“Something.” She replied with a shrug gesturing to him vaguely as she picked up her cup from the table next to her. Letting the cool liquid hide her for a moment from his gaze.
He let out a chuckle shaking his head before his eyes left her form to something behind her. Trix didn’t have to turn to know what it was when Bruce’s hand came to run over her shoulder as her took his own seat on the matching lounger to her right.
“Missing the party am I?” Bruce’s voice caused her to turn her head. Eyes trailing up toned legs to the lightest dusting of hair across his chest only drawing attention to the happy trail that stopped just before the waistband of his swim trunks. Not just any swim trunks but the short ones, the ones that only came mid thigh and hugged the muscles beneath them.
Oh he’s playing dirty, Trix thought as she caught the eyebrow that shot out above the sunglasses perched on his nose. Logan must have had the same thought because she caught the faintest of growls coming from her left.
“Trying to twist the knife doll face?” Logan spoke up again with a new pet name making Trix glance at Bruce to see if he caught that.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bruce smirked to himself, if he did notice he made no gesture to her for her to tell.
“Really because miss barely a bikini top and jean shorts wasn’t bad enough but now I have to see your naked chest in my peripheral while I work?”
Trix looked down at herself her fixing her top at the mention of it. Okay so maybe she chose the swimsuit that hasn’t really been her size for a couple of years but it was cute and as long as she didn’t jump it fit her well enough. Plus it was hot outside and Logan always decides to do manual labor on the worse days.
“Are you complaining?” Bruce asked as his hand found Trix’s free one interlocking their fingers together his thumb rubbing gently over her knuckles.
Logan didn’t comment as he grumbled under his breath crouching back down to play with the sprinkler head that wasn’t working.
The smallest on snorts came from Bruce as his eyes peeked over the edge of his sunglasses to shoot Trix a wink that made her bite her tongue from a giggle that bubbled in her throat.
So pet names weren’t new to them especially from Logan but sometimes even he could surprise them with something new every once and awhile.
(I was gonna do something about Logan being cowboy coded but ehh I’ll do that later)
And so, the woman dies. The woman dies so the man can be sad about it. The woman dies so the man can suffer. She dies to give him a destiny. Dies so he can fall to the dark side. Dies so he can lament her death. As he stands there, brimming with grief, brimming with life, the woman lies there in silence. The woman dies for him.
- The Woman Dies by Aoko Matsuda
pairing: age-up zuko x fem!reader
summary: he’s the fire lord. he’s faced war, loss and destiny itself. but nothing, nothing, tests his patience like the man who thinks he still has a chance with his fiancée.
warnings: age-up characters (the legend of aang: the last airbender characters), established relationship, jealousy, relationship insecurity, no use of Y/N, third person narration. english is not my first language, i apologize if there are any spelling or grammatical errors. explicit sexual content: oral sex (fem and male receiving) fingering, biting, scratching and marking, p in v sex, unprotected sex, possessive sex, possessive behaviour, let me know if I forgot anything.
word count: 8.2k
a/n: of course i saw that edit and of course i had to write something about it. it's embarrassing how many times i've listen to "jealous type" this week, oh my god, i'm so in love with zuko. i have many more ideas, but not that much time, so i'll see what i come up with next. besides, first i have to do valarr and aerion's parts in the f1 au and a few other things.
The Earth Kingdom always felt different, something Zuko had noticed the times he had accompanied her to visit her family or because he had to make political trips, and he clearly enjoyed those trips where they visited her family much more, knowing that they received him as one of their own. He didn't say it out loud, but it was a feeling that settled in his chest, warm, comforting, as if he were arriving at a second home.
And he clearly wasn't the only one who felt that way, because he could see the effect that returning had on her. She seemed much taller the moment her feet touched the ground on the earth leading to her old home where her family still lived, her shoulders completely relaxing and her gaze softening in the same way it did when she looked at him, filled with affection, love and peace.
Zuko knew she considered the palace home, that he had managed to make it comfortable for her, a place where she wanted to live with him, thrive, and one day start a family while they led the nation together. But there was no place like home, the one that had seen her born, take her first steps, and grow up before joining him and the rest of the group to help Aang years ago. And that was precisely why he tried to make it possible for them to travel there as often as they could amidst their responsibilities, that was why they had postponed all their commitments to attend her father's celebration.
He watched her with a gentle smile, noticing how she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, tilting her face slightly upwards so that the sunlight would hit her fully, illuminating her face with its warm light that made her look ethereal to Zuko, as if she were a deity, a goddess to be worshipped, his goddess.
He took advantage of the moment to observe her clothes once again, she wore deep green silks today, the traditional Earth Kingdom cut, but every hem and cuff was edged with subtle gold threading that caught the light like living flame, his colors, deliberately woven into hers. A small fire lily emblem was embroidered over her heart, a quiet declaration that she belonged to both worlds now.
Her hand slipped into his without looking, fingers lacing tight.
“I missed this,” she murmured, voice soft with memory.
Zuko tightened his grip, thumb brushing her knuckles gently. “I can tell,” he murmured, moving closer to her to place a soft kiss on her cheek that made her smile. “It looks good on you to come back, darling.”
She smiled up at him, soft, warm, entirely his, and for one perfect heartbeat everything felt right.
Until it wasn’t.
The celebration for her father's birthday was going to last for three days, filled with music that spread throughout the place, tables full of food with delicious aromas, and children running and shouting all over the grounds.
Her father, a tall, broad-shouldered man who years before had helped the Avatar and his friends with supplies and a roof over their heads, and who had allowed his daughter to join them to help Aang with earthbending alongside Toph, greeted them as if they were heroes returning from a hard-fought battle. He slapped Zuko's shoulder with a force capable of denting armor and trapped him and his own daughter in a tight hug, lifting them off the ground and causing Zuko to laugh as she whimpered, begging him to please put them down.
"My daughter and my future son-in-law," he said when he had released them from the embrace, gazing affectionately at them both, especially his daughter, before pulling her back into a much gentler hug and placing a kiss on the top of her head. "I was afraid you wouldn't be able to come. I know how busy you are, especially you, Zuko," he said, smiling proudly. "The whole group gathered under my roof once again, and my little girl with her future husband, I couldn't ask for a better birthday present."
Because in that place he wasn't the Fire Lord, the heir, the one who carried the great burden of leading the Fire Nation on his shoulders. He was simply Zuko, the boy she had met a decade ago, the one who over the years had become her friend along with the rest of the group, until officially becoming her partner three years ago, and finally her fiancée months ago.
And if Zuko was honest, he much preferred being referred to as her future husband or fiancée than as the Fire Lord. Because there he could simply be himself, a man in love with the most incredible woman he had ever known.
"We already told you in the letter that we were coming, Dad," she said, smiling as she greeted her mother.
"Nothing is more important than family," Zuko added, receiving a smile from her father, approving of his words, and even after so much time it comforted him that her family received him in that way.
"The rest of your friends are already here, you can go and get them. Leave your things here and I'll have someone put them away in your old room, honey."
The two nodded and headed to the backyard holding hands, from where the laughter and shouts were coming.
Aang was already being mobbed by a crowd of kids demanding airbending tricks, running all over the place with Momo. Her grandmother and aunts had dragged Katara into the kitchens, sleeves rolled up and giggling. Toph was nowhere to be seen, but judging by the sounds of punches, mounds of dirt tumbling down, and cheers in the distance, she'd clearly gone to the training yard and was tearing some of the attendees apart. And then there was Sokka, who, predictably, had claimed an entire tray of moon peach cakes and was hogging the limelight near the food stalls.
Zuko stayed by her side, not because he was embarrassed or nervous, but simply because he wanted to be near her. He loved watching the way she interacted with her family, with old friends, and how she drew him into the conversation, introducing him as her fiancée to those who hadn't yet met him and striking up conversations with those they had seen before. He liked seeing the way they looked at her with pride, some in awe, others even captivated.
He could handle the stares, they didn't bother him at all. He was used to them. She was a beautiful woman, anyone could see that, and not only was she beautiful, but she also had a heart of gold. Countless times he had noticed the looks they both received when they attended events or even when they simply left the palace to explore the city, the market, and the areas surrounding the palace.
Yeah, he could handle the stares.
What he couldn’t handle was the way one particular guest kept finding reasons to step into their orbit.
Ryuun. That was his name.
Zuko learned it within the first hour and immediately wished he could forget it.
Ryuun was everything that made Zuko's scar itch, broad-shouldered, tanned, and boisterous with that Earth Kingdom naturalness that filled the space without inhibition. He moved from side to side as if he owned the ground beneath his feet and as if he still held a piece of her past, as if he still had some right to approach her like that, as if the bond had never been severed.
The greeting took place right after the formal welcome. Ryuun approached with a confident stride, a wide smile, a smile too familiar for Zuko's liking, his arms open as if he expected her to walk right into them, as if he had expected her to come running to him like two lovers separated by time.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite runaway," he said, his voice echoing across the courtyard. "Have you come back for good, finally changed your mind, or are you just showing off your fancy Fire Nation trophy?"
She watched him with a forced smile that never reached her eyes, trying to be cordial. Zuko recognized that it was the same smile she wore in council meetings when one of the other members tried to dismiss one of her ideas. “Don’t start, Ryuun.”
“I’m not starting anything,” he replied lightly, but his gaze slid to Zuko and sharpened. “Though I didn’t expect you to bring… company.”
Zuko felt the temperature in his veins rise slightly. He kept his expression neutral, Fire Lord mask firmly in place. “Zuko,” he murmured, introducing himself, cordial but distant.
Their handshake was brief, firm, and entirely too long. Ryuu tightened his grip even further, testing Zuko's hold, and he answered without problem, giving him a small, victorious smile seeing how Ryuun huffed.
"Yeah, that’s what I heard," he replied dismissively, as if trying to belittle Zuko. "I thought you were coming alone. I assumed the Fire Lord would have more important matters to attend to. I thought we'd be able to make up for lost time."
It was then that she positioned herself next to Zuko, gently intertwining her arm with his, breaking the grip between the two men and preventing the moment from lasting too long as she noticed the tension in her fiancée's shoulders, a tension that lessened at her touch.
She didn’t even glance at Ryuun when she answered. “Zuko cleared his schedule to be here,” she said, her voice calm, steady. “He knows what this means to me and to my family.” There was no room for interpretation in her tone, no apology, no hesitation, just certainty. Then she turned to Zuko, her expression softening instantly, the tension melting into something warm, familiar. “Come on,” she murmured, giving his arm a gentle tug. “My nephews have been waiting all morning. They’re convinced the Avatar and their future uncle the amazing Fire Lord, their words not mine, are going to put on a show for them.”
Future uncle.
Zuko couldn’t help it, a small, fleeting smile tugged at his lips before he could stop it, something lighter breaking through the rigid control he’d been holding onto. It lasted barely a second because then he remembered. Ryuun was still there. The smile faded into something more restrained, more composed. He didn’t bother looking back, just gave a short polite nod in his direction, the kind reserved for people who didn’t matter enough to deserve more, and then he turned away with her. Her fingers slid down from his arm to lace with his hand, fitting perfectly, like they always did. The tension in his shoulders eased almost immediately at the contact, something unspoken settling between both of them.
Behind him, he caught the low murmur of Ryuun’s voice, something under his breath, sharp and unimpressed. Zuko ignored it, completely, because in that moment her thumb was tracing slow, absent circles over the back of his hand, grounding and distracting him at the same time.
“And they’ve been practicing all week,” she was saying, her voice soft with amusement. “You should’ve seen them, they keep arguing over who gets to be you when they play.”
That earned you the faintest huff of a laugh from him. “Is that so?”
“Mhm. Though I think the one pretending to be you keeps trying to cheat by declaring himself the winner before the fight even starts.”
Zuko glanced down at her, something warmer settling in his gaze. “Sounds familiar,” he muttered.
She nudged him lightly with her shoulder, smiling radiantly. And just like that, Ryuun’s voice, his presence, the tension, all of it faded into the background.
At least for the time being.
The first day had been relatively tolerable, mainly because she had made it so.
She kept her hand intertwined with Zuko's, leaning against his side during the long banquet, listening to anecdotes about her father and uncles, chatting with the rest of the group about what they'd been up to lately, and agreeing to embark on another adventure together before the wedding. When Ryuun tried to chime in with another story about ‘that time she and I climbed the western ridge and I had to catch her before she fell,’ she interrupted him with a frown as she poured herself some more salad, ‘I didn't fall. I remember that moment quite differently. And it was over seven years ago, ancient history.’
For Zuko, who knew her perfectly, who knew every tone of her voice, every glance, and every gesture, it was quite obvious that she didn't enjoy the way Ryuun tried to assert himself. He didn't want to be childish, after all he was a mature man in his late twenties, but the satisfaction he derived from seeing how she dismissed each of Ryuun's advances was immense. God, how he loved her.
He couldn't help but smile foolishly when she turned to him instead, her eyes sparkling and her voice warm. “Remember when we faced down those spirit wolves in the Foggy Swamp? You were the one who kept me from falling that night.”
Zuko’s smirk was small but real. “You kept me from burning the whole swamp down, darling.”
He knew he shouldn't worry, that it wasn't worth wasting energy on, but God, the urge he had to pulverize him every time he saw him trying to get her attention, talking louder when she was around, trying to drag her into the conversation even when she had nothing to do with it. It was utterly infuriating.
Later, when the girls—she, Katara, and Toph—marched off to the market stalls to rescue Katara from another round of pairing attempts by the aunts, the boys ended up in the training yard. Aang and Zuko lazily swapped fire and air forms while Sokka leaned against a barrel, munching on a skewer he'd taken from the kitchen.
“You’re doing it again,” Sokka said around a mouthful of grilled meat. “You're looking at him again as if you want to fry him.”
“I am not,” Zuko barked in frustration, then added under his breath, "Although I certainly want to."
“You absolutely are,” Sokka replied cheerfully. “That guy’s been orbiting her like a persistent satellite all day. I’m really impressed you haven’t set his eyebrows on fire yet.”
Zuko crossed his arms, jaw tight. “He’s insufferable.”
Aang landed lightly beside them, staff spinning once before he tucked it away. “He seems… nice? He helped carry all those heavy supply crates for the feast earlier, and the kids like him.”
Zuko turned on him, incredulous. “Nice?”
Aang blinked, ever the peacemaker. “Well, yeah. He’s good with the little ones and he was telling stories about the old days when we were all still kids…”
“He’s trying to impress her,” Zuko cut in, voice low and edged. “On purpose.”
Sokka snorted. “Obviously. Guy’s got the subtlety of a rampaging badgermole.”
Zuko’s glare could have melted steel. “That’s not funny.”
“Oh, it’s a little funny,” Sokka said, grinning. “You’re jealous.”
“I am not jealous.”
“Zuko…” Aang started gently.
"No, it's not like that, I'm not jealous," he hissed, running a hand in frustration over his face and pushing back the strands of hair that had come loose from his updo. "I just find him unbearable, detestable. I trust her completely," he sighed deeply, his gaze shifting to Ryuun in the distance talking to another guest. "It's him I don't trust at all."
Sokka leaned back, smirking like he’d won a bet. “Sure. That’s definitely not jealousy talking.”
Zuko didn't respond, at least not with words, smiling as he heard Sokka scream when the skewer in his hand was completely charred. "Oh, I'm so sorry, the wind blew that one," he shrugged, smiling with amusement.
"That was on purpose!" Sokka complained.
But Zuko ignored him, getting back into fighting stance with Aang. At least it would keep his mind occupied until she returned.
Zuko had a small hope that the situation would improve, but it didn't. It was worse the next day.
Ryuun appeared everywhere. During the morning archery contest he “just happened” to station himself beside her, offering tips on her form even though she outshot him twice. Later, when she and Zuko were learning to make baskets with her aunts, while they were asking them how everything was going at the palace and the council, he would make comments that tried to downplay the importance of it or try to glorify the things he had done during the time she had been away from home. At lunch he regaled the table with tales of their shared childhood adventures, how he’d once carried her three miles after she twisted her ankle, how they’d snuck out to watch the solstice fireworks together. And Zuko wanted to tear off his ears, his head, anything that would help him stop hearing it.
“You remember that night?” Ryuun asked, leaning in a little too close. “We stayed out till dawn. Best night of my life.”
Her smile was polite steel. “I remember being exhausted the next day and my father grounding me for a month.” She reached for Zuko’s hand under the table and squeezed. “Besides, I’ve had better nights since.”
Zuko felt the knot in his chest loosen a fraction in response to those words.
When the younger cousins begged for a bending demonstration that afternoon, she didn’t hesitate. She tugged Zuko toward the training circle, eyes sparkling with mischief and a carefree smile on her lips, lips that Zuko really wanted to kiss, as a kind of reward for everything he had been putting up with from that guy, but he knew it wasn't appropriate in front of the children so he held back, simply leaving a kiss on the top of her head. They would have time for that when they returned.
"We have to show them," she began, tying her hair into a high ponytail. "They've been dying to see the two of us fight, they want to see if you can beat me."
Zuko raised an eyebrow at that. "If I could beat you?"
She giggled. "Hmm, they know I'm the best, they want to see if you're on my level, love."
"Clever of them," he commented, making her smile. "Shall we put on a show?"
"Give me everything you have!" she said, giving him a quick kiss on the lips before running to her position, seeing that all the kids were already seated in their places, waiting expectantly.
Shaking his head, amused by her, Zuko ignited his fist, hearing the excited shouts of the children who screamed again when she stomped hard, shaking the ground as if a small earthquake had hit the training yard.
They sparred together, controlled, beautiful, flames meeting stone in perfect balance. Her earthbending was steady and powerful, and Zuko’s fire danced around it like a promise, while the children cheered wildly.
At that moment, all he could think about was her, her gaze, her laughter, the way she moved, and how she analyzed his every move, waiting for his next attack. The way they coordinated, how they complemented each other, how when she advanced, he retreated and vice versa, as if they were dancing to the same melody that only the two of them were able to hear in their hearts. With each movement they made, Zuko could feel his muscles relax and the tension in his chest lessen, that annoying feeling, which he still couldn't quite define but which he disliked intensely, beginning to fade away.
Until he looked up and saw Ryuun watching from the edge of the circle, arms crossed, expression sour.
He was testing his patience, and yes, Zuko had learned to be patient over the years, but everyone has a breaking point. And he found his that night.
It wasn't just one thing, but an accumulation of several. Like tiny grains of sand that eventually became a mountain that buried him completely.
The way Ryuun leaned in when he spoke to her excessively invading her space even when she walked away, the way he laughed like he still had a claim, the way he looked at her as if he still had the right to do so, the way he touched her shoulder or even her hair and the way he said her name like it belonged to him.
But the final crack came after she had already drawn the line, after she asked him to stop it.
Zuko had stepped away briefly to speak with her father about trade routes between their nations. When he returned, he rounded the corner of the storage tents just in time to hear Ryuun’s voice, low but loud enough to carry on the night breeze.
“She’ll come around,” Ryuun was saying to two of his friends, confidence dripping from every word. “She deserves better than some Fire Nation prince with a scar and a stupid crown. Someone who understands this land, someone from here. Not an outsider who…”
Zuko stepped into view before the man could finish. But Ryuun didn’t even flinch. “Fire Lord,” he said, voice mock-polite. “Eavesdropping now?”
Zuko’s hands curled at his sides. Heat surged up his arms, flame licked at his fingertips for half a second before he forced it down. Not here, not in her childhood home. Not in front of her family who had welcomed him with open arms. He couldn't do that to her, but God, how he wanted to tear him to pieces.
“Careful,” he said, voice dangerously calm. “You’re speaking about my fiancée.”
Ryuun stifled a laugh, as if it were unimportant, as if he didn't care about crossing certain boundaries. “I’m speaking the truth.”
"All I hear coming out of your mouth is pure bullshit,” he scoffed, tilting his head slightly. “I think we have different concepts of truth."
And before he could answer him, Zuko turned to leave, knowing that if he stayed, he might do something he would deeply regret, noticing his fingertips beginning to steam.
She noticed his absence almost immediately.
She had told Ryuun off twenty minutes earlier, quiet, firm and final, while Zuko was still talking with her father. “That's enough, Ryuun. I don't understand what the hell you're trying to achieve with this, but it's not going to work and it's not funny. I'm in love with Zuko, I have been for a long time, and that's not going to change just because I see an old friend again. I'm going to marry him and expand our family. Stop embarrassing yourself like this and stop ruining the atmosphere for everyone, it's fucking awful.”
Now she scanned the crowded courtyard, heart tightening when she didn’t see his combined robes. She knew exactly where he would go when he needed space.
Her old bedroom in the east wing hadn’t changed much. The same low wooden bed, the same woven rugs, the same window overlooking the orchard. Moonlight spilled across the floor. Zuko stood near the sill, back rigid, fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white.
“Hey,” she said gently, closing the door behind her.
He didn’t turn right away. “You shouldn’t be here. I’m not… good company right now.”
She crossed the room anyway, boots soft on the rugs. “That’s exactly why I came,” she murmured, standing next to him, noticing how clouded his gaze was, as if a storm had broken out within it. "We don't have to talk if you don't want to, but I'm not going to leave you here alone, I don't want to be out there alone without you."
Silence stretched between them, thick with everything unsaid.
Finally, Zuko exhaled sharply, trying to calm down, trying to dissipate the tension in his muscles. “He said you deserved better, someone from your own nation. Not me, someone with a scar and a stupid crown.”
She blinked. Then she laughed, soft, genuine, disbelieving.
Zuko turned, eyes burning with something deeper than fire. “You think that’s funny?”
She clicked her tongue before speaking. “I think he’s an idiot, love,” she said plainly. “I already told him that. Twenty minutes ago, while you were with my father. I said I’m in love with you and that I’m marrying you. End of discussion.”
Zuko’s shoulders loosened a fraction, but the storm still lingered in his gaze. “Well, it doesn't seem to have bothered him too much, it seems he has no intention of stopping.”
“I don’t care if he stops Zuko,” she replied softly, stepping closer. “I’ve already chosen. Years ago, when I confessed that I was in love with you, and every day since.”
His golden eyes searched hers, hunting for any flicker of doubt and finding none. “I know you have.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
He hesitated, jaw working, not knowing exactly how to say what he felt. “I don’t like the way he looks at you, like you’re still his to win back. Like I’m just… temporary.”
She cupped his face with both hands, thumbs brushing the edge of his scar the way she always did when she wanted to remind him he was hers. “Zuko. Look at me.”
He did.
“I don’t want someone from my nation,” she whispered, her eyes filled with emotion. “I want the man who stood by me against his own father, the same man who chose peace over power, who chose to do good even when it wasn’t the easiest option. The man who makes me feel like the whole world is steady beneath my feet even when everything is burning, the one who gives meaning to my days. You are the love of my life, and nothing and no one can change that.” She let out, almost as a prayer, love overflowing in each of her words. “I couldn't care less what he thinks or wants, the only thing that matters to me is you, us, together.”
His breath hitched. That ugly feeling, which he refused to name, was still there, raw and honest, but something else, relief, devotion and hunger, flooded in behind it.
"I trust you," he said softly. "Completely, I swear I do. It's him I don't trust."
"You don't have to worry about him," she murmured, smiling slightly. "Because I'm here with you. And I'm not going anywhere. There's no need to get jealous, love.”
Zuko’s hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him. “I’m not jealous,” he insisted, even as his voice dropped into that rough timbre that always made her knees weak.
Her laugh was warm against his lips. “You absolutely are. And it’s fucking adorable.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.” She rose onto her toes, brushing her mouth over his once, twice, teasing. “And it’s okay,” her fingers slid up from his chest to his collar, curling there, holding him in place just enough to make him feel it. “Because I’m yours,” she whispered, her voice soft but unwavering, her lips barely brushing his as she spoke. “And you’re mine.”
That finally broke him.
Whatever restraint Zuko had been clinging to all evening finally snapped. He kissed her like he’d been starving for it, deep, desperate, claiming. His fingers tightened on her hips, backing her toward the wall until her shoulders met cool stone. Laughter spilled between them for a heartbeat before it melted into heat. She tasted like spiced wine and home, and he drank her in like he needed her to breathe.
“I hate him,” he muttered against her mouth, nipping her lower lip.
“I know,” she breathed, hands sliding up his chest slowly.
“I really hate him.”
“I gathered,” she gasped as she felt him press himself against her.
The kiss wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t careful. It was heat and frustration and relief all tangled into one, years of discipline cracking under the weight of how much he wanted her, how much he needed to feel that she was right there, with him, choosing him.
Her breath caught against his mouth, but she didn’t pull away, if anything, she leaned into him, meeting him with equal intensity, her hands gripping his collar, pulling him closer as if there was still too much space between them.
Zuko exhaled sharply through his nose, his forehead pressing briefly against hers before he kissed her again, deeper this time, slower but no less desperate, like he was trying to memorize the feeling. Like he was trying to erase everything else.
Every word Ryuun had said. Every look. Every doubt he refused to admit he’d felt.
All of it burned away under the simple, undeniable truth of her lips against his.
“You drive me insane,” he muttered against her mouth, voice low and rough, completely unguarded now.
Her answering smile brushed his lips. “Good.”
That almost made him laugh, almost. Instead, he kissed her again.
Her fingers worked the ties loose of his formal robes, pushing the heavy fabric off his shoulders. Beneath it he wore a simple green tunic, Earth Kingdom cut, chosen that night as a gesture of respect, but still embroidered with tiny golden flames along the seams. Her colors on him. His colors on her. The sight made something primal uncoil low in his belly.
Her own gown, green silk with fire-lily embroidery, slipped from her shoulders with a whisper of fabric. Moonlight painted her skin silver and gold.
Outside, the celebration roared on, drums, laughter and the distant crackle of fireworks. No one would miss them for a while. It could just be the two of them, lost in each other.
Her back met the edge of the low wooden bed with a soft thud, the familiar quilt bunching beneath her as Zuko followed her down. His mouth claimed hers instantly, hot and urgent, no longer holding back the storm that had been building since the moment Ryuun had opened his mouth. Their kiss was deep and messy, tongues sliding together, teeth grazing lips, the kind of kiss that tasted like relief and raw possession all at once. His hands roamed greedily over the green silk still clinging to her hips, shoving the fabric higher until his palms found the bare warmth of her thighs. He squeezed, fingers digging in just enough to leave faint imprints she would feel tomorrow, a silent claim only he would see.
“Say it again,” he breathed against her mouth, the words breaking slightly, rough with need and something far more fragile beneath it. “Please… just say it again, please darling,” he practically begged.
She didn’t hesitate this time. She felt it, the flicker of doubt still lingering in his golden eyes, the jealousy he tried so hard to bury but that now lay bare between them. And beneath it all… the quiet fear.
Her hands rose to cradle his face, holding him there, steady, like he was something precious and breakable all at once. Her thumbs traced his jaw, then softened as they brushed over the familiar ridge of his scar, lingering there with a tenderness that said more than words ever could.
“I love you,” she whispered, her voice low and warm, each syllable slow, deliberate… meant to be felt, not just heard. “Zuko… I love you.” She leaned closer, her forehead resting against his, her breath mingling with his. “There’s no one else,” she murmured, softer now, but somehow even more certain. “There never was and there never will be. It’s you, it’s always been you.” Her fingers curled slightly against his skin, grounding him. “You’re the one I chose,” she continued, her voice deepening with emotion. “The one I’ll keep choosing. Every day, every lifetime if I have them,” a faint, breathless smile ghosted over her lips. “My love… my future husband,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his again, slower this time, lingering. “The man I belong to… and who belongs to me.” She pulled back just enough for him to see it, every ounce of truth in her eyes. “Completely,” she finished softly. “Only you.”
A low, unsteady groan slipped from his throat, the sound raw, almost helpless. Her words ignited something in him, quick and consuming, like sparks catching on dry tinder.
He didn’t trust himself to speak. Instead, he buried his face in the curve of her neck, breath warm against her skin as his lips found the frantic rhythm of her pulse. He lingered there for a second, feeling it, claiming the moment, before pressing a slow and deliberate kiss just below her ear.
Then another.
And another.
Until it turned into something deeper, his mouth tightening just enough to leave a mark, dark and fleeting, something that would hide beneath her hair come morning, but that he would know was there.
His.
Her breath hitched sharply, fingers tightening against him. Zuko’s teeth grazed the sensitive spot, barely there at first and then a little firmer, enough to draw a soft gasp from her lips, her body arching instinctively into his, closing whatever space remained between them. He exhaled against her skin, low and heated, as if even that small reaction had unraveled what little control he had left.
“Again,” he murmured, voice muffled against her skin, already moving lower. Another bite followed, this one on the soft swell of her breast where only he would ever see it, followed by a soothing lick that made her shiver. “Tell me you are mine.”
Her breath trembled as his words sank into her, sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cool air and everything to do with him. Her fingers found his neck, holding him there, anchoring him, even as she struggled to steady her voice.
“I’m yours,” she whispered, soft at first and then firmer, more certain, like she needed him to feel it. “Zuko… I’m yours.”
He stilled for half a second, just enough to let it settle. Then his grip on her tightened, a quiet, reverent kind of intensity replacing the restless edge from before. His forehead pressed briefly against her, breath uneven, like those words had done something deeper than either of them expected.
“And you’re mine,” she added, quieter now, her thumb brushing along his cheek, grounding, tender in contrast to the heat building between them. Her hands traveled to his hair, her fingers threading into the neat topknot at the crown of his head. She tugged the leather tie free in one smooth pull, letting his thick black hair spill down around his shoulders in a dark curtain. The moment it came loose she fisted it tight and yanked, guiding his mouth exactly where she wanted it. “My love…” she breathed, the words slipping out against his lips like something claimed rather than said.
Her grip tightened in his hair, keeping him right where she wanted him, not letting him pull away even a fraction. “My future husband,” she continued, softer but deeper, heavier, like each word carried weight. Meaning.
Her forehead brushed his for the briefest second before she tilted her head, her voice dropping into something almost reverent, and dangerously certain. “No one else gets this,” she murmured, her lips ghosting over his as she spoke. “No one else gets to have me like this… to feel me, to know me…” Her fingers flexed, anchoring him there. “Like you do. No one else get me, Zuko.”
Zuko moaned, loud, wrecked, the sound vibrating hot against her throat as he kissed and sucked and marked her collarbone, the sensitive dip beneath her breast, the curve of her ribs. The sharp pull on his hair sent a fresh bolt of heat straight down his spine, he pressed harder against her thigh, already aching and straining against the last layers of fabric between them.
Clothes vanished in a frantic tangle of silk and linen. Her gown pooled on the floor beside his green Earth Kingdom tunic, the golden flame embroidery catching the moonlight like a secret promise. Bare skin met bare skin, warm and urgent and perfect. His hands were everywhere, cupping the weight of her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples until they tightened into hard peaks under his touch, sliding down the dip of her waist, gripping her hips hard enough to leave faint fingerprints she would trace later with a secret smile.
She pushed him onto his back, straddling his thighs with a wicked little smile. She leaned down, her hair falling like a curtain around them, and kissed him slow and filthy, rolling her hips just to feel him twitch and throb beneath her. Then she slid lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the center of his chest, over the old scar that crossed his torso, until she reached the sharp cut of his hips. She took her time, licking and nipping at the taut skin there, savoring the way his stomach clenched under her mouth.
Zuko’s head fell back against the pillow the instant she wrapped her lips around him.
“Spirits…” the words dissolved into a broken groan as her tongue swirled around the flushed head, slow and teasing, before she hollowed her cheeks and took him deeper. One of her hands stroked what she couldn’t fit, firm and steady, while the other pressed flat against his lower stomach, pinning him down. He was a complete mess within seconds, hips jerking up despite her hold, fingers twisting desperately in the sheets, incoherent sounds spilling from his lips in a language that wasn’t quite words. Growls, whimpers, half-formed curses and praises all melted together until nothing came out except raw, desperate noises. “Please… fuck yes.”
She hummed around him, the vibration shooting straight through his body and making his thighs tremble violently. Every time she pulled back to lick a long, wet stripe up the underside, dragging her tongue over the sensitive vein there, he lost another thread of control. His chest heaved, hair sticking to his damp forehead, eyes squeezed shut as pleasure overloaded every sense. She was his weakness, always had been and in that moment, she was wrecking him on purpose, sucking harder, taking him deeper, letting her teeth graze just enough to make him see stars.
He couldn’t finish a single coherent thought. His voice cracked on every syllable, reduced to grunts and moans and broken gasps that only grew louder when she sped up, her hand twisting in time with her mouth. He was right on the edge, hips stuttering, when she finally eased off with a wet pop, lips shiny and swollen, eyes dark with satisfaction.
“Still not jealous?” she teased softly, pressing a lingering kiss to the inside of his thigh.
Zuko let out a shaky and breathless laugh that turned into another moan when she sucked him back down for one last teasing swirl.
“I’m not jealous,” he managed again, though his voice came out rough and uneven, completely betraying him.
Her soft laugh brushed against his skin, unconvinced, already forming a reply. But she never got to say it.
In one swift movement, Zuko caught her off guard. His hands were on her in an instant, firm and certain, as he pulled her up and shifted their positions with a controlled, fluid motion. The world seemed to tilt for a second before her back met the mattress, breath catching sharply as he hovered above her. For a moment, all she could do was stare up at him. At the way his hair fell loose around his face now, framing those golden eyes, darker than before, burning with something far more dangerous than jealousy.
Possession. Certainty. Hunger.
“You were saying?” he murmured, voice low, edged with something that made her pulse jump.
Her lips parted but no words came out this time. Because now… He was the one in control.
Zuko didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath. He slid down her body with predatory grace, strong hands parting her thighs wide and hooking them over his shoulders in one smooth motion. The first drag of his tongue over her was slow, deliberate and filthy, broad and wet from entrance to clit, savoring the taste of her like he was starving. A low, guttural groan rumbled out of his chest, vibrating straight through her core, and then the hunger took over completely.
He devoured her.
There was nothing restrained about it. Zuko ate her like a man possessed, messy and desperate, tongue lapping at her with long, greedy strokes that left her slick and shining on his chin. He sealed his lips around her clit and sucked hard, cheeks hollowing, the wet obscene sounds filling the quiet room alongside her sharp gasps. Two thick fingers pushed inside her without warning, curling deep and thrusting in time with every flick of his tongue. He added a third almost immediately, stretching her open, scissoring them while his mouth worked her relentlessly, sucking, licking, devouring like he couldn’t get enough.
Her back arched clean off the bed, hands flying to his hair, fisting the loose black strands and yanking hard. The pull only made him groan louder against her, the vibration sending sparks shooting up her spine. He was a wreck between her thighs with hair wild, face flushed and glistening, eyes half-lidded in pure bliss as he buried himself deeper, nose pressed against her, tongue swirling and lapping without rhythm, just raw need.
He pulled back just enough to look up at her, lips shiny, breath hot against her soaked folds. “Say it,” he rasped, voice wrecked. “Say it again while I taste you.”
Her thighs trembled around his head. “I love you,” she gasped, hips rolling helplessly against his mouth. “I love you, Zuko. I’m yours, just yours,” she stammered, head thrown back, fingers yanking his hair hard enough to sting. “Only you, always you, my future husband. I’m yours, Zuko, I’m yours…”
The words snapped something in him. He dove back in with a desperate sound, tongue working faster, messier, three fingers pumping deep and hard while his lips sucked her clit in tight, rhythmic pulls. His free hand gripped her hip bruisingly, holding her open for him as he feasted, chin dripping, tongue thrusting inside her alongside his fingers, then dragging back up to circle her clit again in sloppy, hungry strokes. The wet, filthy sounds grew louder, slick and obscene, as he ate her like he was trying to drown in her, desperate and messy and utterly devoted.
She came with a broken cry, thighs clamping around his head, back bowing as pleasure tore through her in crashing waves. But he didn’t stop, he kept licking and sucking and fingering her through it, relentlessly, drawing out every last tremor until she was twitching, oversensitive, and tugging desperately at his hair.
Only then did he crawl back up her body, kissing a wet trail up her stomach, between her breasts, along her throat. His mouth found hers in a deep, filthy kiss so she could taste herself on his tongue. He settled between her thighs, the heavy length of him sliding against her soaked folds, teasing for one heartbeat.
"God, how I love you,” he whispered against her lips, voice hoarse with need as he notched himself at her entrance.
Her answer was a soft, breathless sound, half moan and half plea, as she wrapped her legs tighter around his waist and pulled him in. Zuko thrust forward in one smooth, deep stroke, burying himself to the hilt. The stretch, the heat, the perfect fit of her around him drew a low, guttural groan from his chest that vibrated against her mouth. For a heartbeat they stayed like that, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling hot and ragged, simply feeling each other.
Then he began to move.
Slow at first, deliberate, rolling rolls of his hips that dragged every thick inch along her walls, grinding deep so she felt him everywhere. His hands pinned hers above her head, fingers laced tight, while his body covered hers completely, skin slick with sweat sliding together. Each thrust was controlled power, passionate and possessive, the old wooden bed creaking softly beneath them in rhythm with the distant drums outside.
Her head tipped back, lips parted on a silent gasp, and Zuko chased the sound with his mouth, kissing her deep and slow, tongues sliding lazily, tasting the remnants of her pleasure still on his lips. He released her hands only to slide one arm beneath her lower back, arching her up to meet every thrust, the new angle making her tremble and clench around him. His other hand cupped the back of her neck, thumb stroking the marks he’d left earlier, holding her close as if he could fuse them together.
No more words. Just the wet slide of skin, the soft slap of hips meeting, the shared, shaky breaths. Zuko’s mouth never left her, trailing hot, open kisses along her jaw, down the column of her throat, sucking gently at the pulse point beneath her ear before moving lower to lick at the dark bruise blooming on the swell of her breast. He bit down lightly, just enough to make her arch harder into him, then soothed it with his tongue while his hips snapped forward a little sharper, a little deeper.
Her nails dragged down his back, leaving red lines he would wear like badges tomorrow. Her heels dug into the small of his back, urging him on, and Zuko answered with a low growl, picking up the pace. His thrusts turned powerful and relentless, long dragging strokes that hit that perfect spot inside her every single time, grinding on the end of each one so her clit rubbed against his pelvis. Sweat beaded on his brow and dripped onto her collarbone, he licked it away without breaking rhythm, golden eyes locked on hers the entire time, dark and burning with everything he couldn’t say out loud.
The room filled with the sounds of them, soft desperate gasps, the slick rhythm of their bodies, the occasional broken moan when he hit just right and her walls fluttered around him. Zuko shifted again, hooking one of her legs higher over his hip, opening her wider, driving even deeper. The new angle made her cry out, nails digging harder into his shoulders, and he swallowed the sound with another fierce kiss, tongue stroking hers in time with his thrusts. He could feel her tightening, trembling, right on the edge. One hand slipped between them, thumb circling her clit in tight, slick strokes while he kept pounding into her, deep, passionate and relentless. Her back bowed, mouth falling open against his, and she came hard around him, clenching and pulsing, pulling him even deeper as pleasure ripped through her in long, shuddering waves.
Zuko followed right after, hips stuttering, burying himself as deep as he could go with a broken, guttural moan of her name. He spilled inside her in hot, pulsing bursts, forehead pressed to hers, arms locked around her like she was the only solid thing in the world. They stayed locked together through every aftershock, bodies trembling, breaths syncing, hearts hammering against each other.
Only when the last tremor faded did he ease down, careful not to crush her, rolling slightly so she lay draped half across his chest. His arms stayed wrapped around her, one hand stroking slow, soothing lines up and down her spine while the other tangled gently in her sweat-damp hair. Soft, reverent kisses pressed to her temple, her closed eyelids, the corner of her mouth, silent promises in every touch.
For a while, neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to.
Her breathing slowly evened out against him, her fingers lazily tracing patterns over his chest, absent and content. Zuko rested his cheek against the crown of her head, eyes half-lidded, the earlier tension long gone, burned away into something quieter, something steadier, something theirs.
“You’re quiet,” she murmured after a moment, her voice soft, a little drowsy but unmistakably amused.
Zuko huffed faintly. “So are you.”
“Mhm… I’m recovering,” she replied, shifting slightly so she could tilt her head up and look at him, a teasing glint already forming in her eyes. “You, on the other hand… look suspiciously at peace.”
“I am,” he said simply, a pleased smile on his lips.
She studied him for a second longer, then her lips curved. “Still not jealous?”
“No.”
She raised a brow. “Not even a little?” she pressed, clearly enjoying this.
He met her gaze, calm, steady… and entirely unconvincing. “No.”
She let out a soft laugh, dropping her head back against his chest. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m right.”
“You’re the jealous type,” she corrected, nudging him lightly.
Zuko frowned slightly at that, like he was considering arguing, but then his arms tightened around her instead, pulling her closer in a quiet, possessive sort of way that completely gave him away. She didn’t miss it.
“Oh, definitely the jealous type,” she added, satisfied.
He exhaled through his nose, something almost like a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “…Only when it comes to you.”
That softened her instantly. Her fingers curled against his chest, her voice quieter now, warmer.
“Good,” she murmured.
Outside, the celebration still roared faintly in the distance, laughter, music and the echo of a party that hadn’t slowed for a second.
Inside that room, though, it was quiet, steady, safe.
And as she shifted closer, fitting perfectly against him, Zuko pressed one last kiss to her hair, eyes closing briefly.
